New Orleans Dreamin...

We started watching HBO's Treme before we left for New Orleans. And now we're addicted. Something about having been there, seeing places (mainly music clubs) we danced in til 4am...makes us both really miss our kick ass time in NOLA. Which I was thinking about while catching up on last week's episode last night. Which, in turn, reminded me I never shared the details of our awesome, first night dinner at Emeril's NOLA.

When we briefly met Emeril at Publican in March, we connected with his culinary assistant, Alain. Alain was incredibly helpful in giving us a list of places to try and hit while in New Orleans, as well as being amazing and getting us a reservation at NOLA for our first night (and only night alone) in the Crescent City. Located in the French Quarter, NOLA is completely inconspicuous from the outside. You'd never know you were about to walk into a large, two-story, industrially constructed restaurant. The decor is a lot of steel, with tasteful touches of bright, New Orleans, flavor thrown in. It's very, very large...but the way the staff took care of us, from check-in through exiting, makes you feel like you're dining in a 4-top tiny restaurant.

Drinks? J went with Abita Turbodog (remember, this was the beginning of the trip, when Turbodog was still exciting) and I had two glasses of a delicious Albariño that I can't remember the name of. We ordered the lobster cake with tropical salsa and plantain chip (incredible) and the bbq shrimp (unreal) for appetizers. Both were prepared with an elegance of fine dining, while maintaining the down home GREATNESS of New Orleans' food.

Entrees were the shrimp and grits (which everyone and their mother, including Alain told us we HAD to order) and the prosciutto wrapped grouper, topped with fried basil. Again, everything was beautifully presented, but at the bottom of that bowl of grits, there was nothing but good, southern love. It was delicious.

Dessert rounded out the meal with the banana pudding cake, which honestly, rocked my world six ways from Sunday. Our servers were incredibly instrumental in helping us decide between the insanity of the dessert menu, and we eventually went with the banana cake because of the awesome description of one of them. (Plus, it had banana in it. Which is healthy.) :)

We left NOLA feeling full, happy, slightly spoiled, and blissed out. Though we had to make a stop at the room so I could change into slightly less constricting jeans before venturing out to happen upon a fantastic home-grown second line jamming in the quarter, that meal was such a highlight of our trip to NOLA. It was our first night, my first night in New Orleans, and absolutely a meal I would recommend to anyone venturing into the quarter for a night of debauchery.

After all, you will want to be well fed before you pound those Hurricanes, right?

*No, we did NOT ever have a Hurricane!

"If You Come Back to the Barre..."

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"If you come back to the barre, you'll always be home." Or something like that. It's from a really, really bad ballet movie, "Center Stage," one of Zoe Saldana's first roles. (Yep, before that other really, really bad movie with Britney Spears.) It's the story of the American Ballet Theater School in NYC, and the struggles and triumphs of the first year of students. Blah blah blah...the acting is awful, the writing horrendous, but the dancing is enough to make you watch every single time it's on WE. And one of the lines, when Zoe's character is struggling to "get good enough," her teacher takes her aside and tells her that as long as she remembers to always come back to the barre, to class, yada yada, she will always feel like she's home. (Cheesy, yes, I know.)

That's how I just felt, moments ago. I hadn't planned on writing this today, though I've been incredibly spotty about posting this week. I was going to post something I wrote something over the weekend about the joys of tuna fish (which I'll share some other day.) But I just had a "come back to the barre" moment, in my kitchen, wooden spoon in hand, standing over my large All-Clad sauce pot. 

I've had a really long, really exhausting week, both physically and mentally. No need to share the details, just a lot of work and a little play.  My back is wrecked, my head is pounding, and I'm quite certain I no longer fit into my jeans.  My house is a total mess, and I literally have not cooked for my husband in days. And it's not just me. J has had a very similarly trying week. And so I (probably stupidly) promised to cook him his favorite meal tonight, while he continues working..."Nanny's meatballs and sauce." 

It's not the recipe I'm sharing, mainly because I can't. It's someone else's secret family recipe that was shared with me in the throws of some serious pinky swearing. But this has nothing to do with the actual recipe. It has to do with me, dragging my ass downstairs after trying hard to unpack (and failing miserably by passing out into a quick nap) and starting to cook. I emptied the dish drain, made sure the ingredients were out, and started chopping. I heated the olive oil, chopped the onions and garlic, ripped off some parsley...you get the picture. And all of a sudden, the stress and exhaustion and all other not so fun emotions starting seeming kind of far away and less important. I literally started stirring it away, so to speak. Or at least stirring it into somewhere far enough away to allow me to get through it enough to continue on with the day.

I found my "barre" at the bottom of a pot of Nanny's sauce. What's your "ballet barre" place? The place where all of a sudden, when you least expect it, has you calm, serene, and feeling like a (slightly messy, no-makeup, maybe better off in sweatpants) new person.

Israeli Salad Farmer's Market Garden Deliciousness

When this "recipe" first came into my life, it was 1,000 years ago, at a Passover seder at my parent's house. And it was called Israeli salad. Which, in our house, is how it will always be referred to. But for some reason, it wasn't until I hosted Passover this year that I realized I should be making this salad all the time. (And kind of do, in one form or another.)

Basically, it's just a bevy of chopped raw vegetables and herbs, dressed lightly with salt, black pepper, lemon juice and olive oil. I add a splash of champagne vinegar here and then, but it just depends on the time of year, and the season you're pushing. The "official recipe" is below, and trust me when I say it's exactly that easy and that delicious!

But for real, if most of you aren't already making something that looks and tastes like this, you don't need to follow this recipe to have an amazing farm fresh dish. Go to the garden/farmer's market/store and get whatever looks great! Cucumber, tomato, peppers...if you like it spicy, throw in a seeded serrano. Add in some scallions...I've done this with raw onion, and it can be a bit pungent, but shallot would be great.

Don't like cilantro? Use basil and parsley, or dill and mint. You're not limited by anything here--there are no rules. Chop the veggies as small or big as you like. This salad is rustic and gorgeous. Bright, colorful, refreshing and full of flavor.

Which is all we really want most of the time, right? Something easy, that makes us look like rockstars? Just go for it!


Israeli Salad

8 med tomatoes cut into small dice (you can also use roma tomatoes but when able, use anything you want. I loved heirloom tomatoes in this.)
1 seedless cucumber, diced
2-3 peppers red, green, yellow, orange (whatever you like)
1 C Chopped flat parsley
1/2 C Chopped cilantro
3-4 scallions chopped
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
2-3 T olive oil
Salt and pepper

Mix everything together and put in fridge.  Serve at cool room temp.

Makes 8 servings

**If salad produces too much liquid in fridge, just scoop out of mixing bowl with slotted spoon when serving.**

A Post-Birthday Cinco de Mayo Bite

Apparently, I can plan a good surprise. Incredibly difficult in our household. The only surprise I've ever seen done was his proposal, which somehow he arranged, plotted, and managed to achieve without a single ounce of knowledge from me. While his birthday surprise was not as high profile, it was well-received.

Our destination? Holland, MI, about 1 hour north of us. We have both been here before. But we've never come up to just hang, and it's a very cute little beach town, as far as our Western Michigan cute beach towns go. There is also this amazingly cool, LEED Certified hotel here, that is the first of its kind in the midwest, and I've really wanted to check it out since it opened 2 years ago. CityFlats, and one of the most well-known (and great) MI breweries, New Holland. A massage (for J), a beer (for me) and a bit of walking around, and then we went to dinner at this charming, old school, super cute Italian restaurant. The wine was perfect, the food comforting and delicious. It was a great, chill, easy birthday, "the best yet," or so he told me over a cannoli.

Anyway, on our way back to reality today, it was apparent that we were going to need some Cinco de Mayo activity before my husband went POOF and turned into a rockstar for his gig tonight.  We stopped at this newish, seemingly authentic Mexican joint that opened close to home. It was pretty good...at least, authentic enough to make decent Al Pastor, and the bite of salsa and guac made it seem like some kind of celebration. I am now back in sweats, totally stuffed, and crazy nauseated. Seems like Cinco de Mayo to me!

I am not partaking in any other festivities today, which is the first time in almost five years that has happened. But I'm loving hearing about everyone else's! I can tell you, if you have the chance, try a Cucapa (Mexican craft beer) tonight with your shot of tequila and burrito grande.

What about you, do you go tequila or beer for this particular festiveness?

The Birthday Surprise

Today is J's birthday. As I think I've told you, his birthday is making me insane. See, every year since we've been together, I've thrown J a pretty rocking party at our house. Cinco de Mayo is his FAVORITE holiday, and luckily he shares his birthday so closely with this day. So we've always done a big, Mexican-themed bash for his birthday, and played off his "I hate parties that are all about me"angst with a taco bar and tequila shots.

This year, because of our trip to Jazz Fest and more, we (meaning he) decided he really didn't want a party. You can imagine this threw me for a major loop--not to mention some friends who were actually disappointed in our lack of a Mexican-themed fete this year. I promised him a low-key birthday, and have spent the last 10 days trying to figure out how to get over my undying issues about not doing anything for this monumental occasion.

I decided to throw in the spatula and do something. Against my knowledge that a home-cooked dinner of Chicken Cordon Bleu and chocolate cake would be just fine with J, I've planned a romantic, low-key, surprise day/evening away. He gets home-cooked meals all the time. Mostly delicious, and almost always in front of the tv. Knowing us, we'd fall into that habit post-dining room table meal, and I don't feel like sharing J with Simon, Kara, Ellen and Randy on this particular birhday!

I promise to give you all the details when we return, but I can tell you the following (since I know he reads this.) It involves old-school cooking, eco-friendly beauty, and me turning off my iPhone at 4pm.

Let the guessing begin!

Spring Dreaming...

Apparently, while J and I were in NOLA, spring literally sprung here. Meaning our lawn is now as high as my knee, and my garden is nowhere NEAR being ready. The sounds of birds humming outside my sliding glass door are rivaled with the hum of the neighbors weed wacking.

It also means allergies and spring colds, apparently.

(My iPhone camera just isn't cutting it today...time to get an actual camera!)

J came home from his gig Saturday night with a "bug." Which has turned into something more than a bug. Given that his big birthday is tomorrow, I am doing everything I can to whip that boy back into shape before tomorrow. Translation: his favorite cure. Matzoh ball soup.

Yes, I know you've already heard me wax poetic about my rocking matzoh ball soup. So I won't bore you. But I will tell you that just because someone has a warm-weather cold doesn't mean you have to stay true to what you'd do in the winter. Visit the farm stand/farmers market and stock up on everything gorgeous that's in season right now. Or, hopefully, you're better than me and have actually planted your garden by now and can pull herbs and greens from your ground! Me, my herbs came from a potted plant outside, which counts in this house. That's garden-light for me.

Tonight's soup of choice has more than just onion, carrot and celery in it. We've got zucchini, squash, asparagus, three different peppers, and tons of herbs. There's a vat of garlic and a sprinkle of turmeric, to make J feel better STAT. And since it's apparently National Herb Week, I threw in the usual suspects (sage, thyme and rosemary) and spiced up the balls themselves with some finely chopped dill. The smells in my house are phenomenal right now, I tell you.

And if anyone wants to swing by and get my garden poppin' for me, I'll save you a bowl.

Cures and Remedies...Everyone Has Them

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Friday I regaled you with stories of just how much I LOVE dry rosé. And I kept that love going through a post-work drink and dinner with friends who believe that your wine glass should never be empty--I love them for this, I swear. Without sharing the hazy details of my evening, let's just say that I woke up Saturday morning with a nauseated belly, pounding head, and spinning eyes. It was a rough one.

Given that I had a huge day at the shop yesterday, with an art opening, chocolate tasting and more, I kept desperately trying to find a way to play through. I ate bread for breakfast, drank a huge bottle of Pellegrino and then ginger ale. Went through several other ritualistic cures in my kitchen, and nothing was really working. I was at the shop, lightheaded, and beat down. Yes, finally I got through it, with the help of finally opening a beer around 2pm. Not too much, just enough to mellow out the shaking.

The older I get, the worse the hangover seems. Mostly because it a) lasts for MUCH longer than it did when I was 22 and didn't care and b) because apparently, turning 30 and then 31 meant a hangover was inevitable from 2 glasses of wine, not 2 bottles!

I don't always get hungover. Most often I remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food and be aware that a glass of wine actually does have a bottom. But sometimes, like Friday night, it just creeps up on you, like a bad case of seasonal allergies!

It got me thinking about cures and remedies, hoping to learn something from the dehydration. I turned to facebook and twitter to find out other people's tried and true cures. The answers ranged from "pooping" to a fascinating cocktail concoction with Campbell's tomato soup and malt liquor. (No thank you!) One of my favorites was from a friend who is barely old enough to be able to experience hangovers, let alone the ones that sneak up on you in your 30s. She reminded me that I taught her about a nice, cold glass of chocolate milk--almost always a sure fire cure. There's Menudo (the soup, not the band that launched Ricky Martin.) People swear by the old gatorade and advil cure, or a great greasy breakfast. Don't even get me started on the old "Prairie Oyster."

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So, fantastically fabulous readers and friends, what do YOU do on days when staying in bed isn't an option, the hair of the dog isn't on your morning agenda and you're feeling less than your "post-evening out" best.