Ma P-P's Jewish Penicillin

Passover's coming up. This is the holiday where everything delicious (i.e. carby) is banned for a week. I have a history of fainting and/or becoming unbearable to be around during these eight sundowns, to the point where my coworker made note of the dates in her calendar so she knows not to get up in my grill.

Much of my crabbiness stems from feeling like there's nothing I can eat, and thus I don't eat and thus my blood sugar drops and thus the fainting and the biting off of people's heads.

This isn't true though; unlike people on the Paleo diet I don't have to eat like a dinosaur. I could snack on a sugar packet. Or a butter sandwich without the bread. SO MANY OPTIONS.

One of my favorites is my mom's matzo ball soup. In addition to being K for P (Kosher for Passover), it has mysterious healing powers. In my experience, this magic potion has the ability to cure at least 97.3% of what ails you. (The remaining 2.7% can be cured with a few Freddy snuggles.)

Ma P-P happened to be in town this weekend, and when we got the news that a very dear girl in our lives had been admitted to the hospital, our natural inclination was to set to work making matzo ball soup and other goodies to get her back up to snuff.

Without further ado, here is the recipe for Ma P-P's Jewish Penicillin:

1 cut-up chicken, plus an extra thigh and leg
1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into chunks
2 leeks, cleaned, root side sliced off.  Be careful--these guys can be seriously muddy. Use the whole leek--white and green parts.
2 carrots, scraped and chunked.  Remember, you will use these for the soup later on--cut into one- or two-inch chunks.
1 whole onion, paper skin removed, scored. 
1 small turnip, peeled and chunked.
2 parsnips, peeled and chunked.
fresh dill (enough for the preparation of the broth and then later as garnish)

fresh parsley for broth

salt, pepper to taste
Matzo ball soup mix

Wash and dry chicken parts, place in stock pot and cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil.  Skim off scum.  Add the broth powder from the chicken soup mix.  Stir well.  Add veggies and herbs.  Bring to a boil and then simmer for a few hours.

Make matzo balls and keep in fridge until ready to cook.

After soup is finished, strain off all the meat and veggies, reserving carrots. Following the instructions on the package, drop the matzah balls into the broth, cover, and boil.

Slice carrots into coin shaped pieces and add to broth.  Add dill for garnish.

 A bonus is that you can eat the mushy glop you used to make the broth for days afterwards. It's especially great if you have no teeth.

Progress report: Living Room, Bedroom and Bookcases

Our week has closely mirrored that of Justin Bieber's, except that instead of dealing with Lil' Twist crashing an expensive car, the ire of Britain's parents after starting concerts many hours late, and paparazzi picking fights with us, we dealt with ice dams, a sick dog, and a gas leak. Unlike the Biebs, however, we do not make an estimated $6,500/hr. Mint is having a cow.

Havoc aside, we've been quite busy making the hizzy not quite so bare. The couch, chair, and and bed we ordered from Slumberland arrived last week. allowing us to retire the all-purpose air mattress. The living room now actually looks like a place where people live, and not a site where vagrants have decided to set up camp. Please enjoy the following pics in which Dude is studiously ignoring me and Freddy is photo-bombing like a boss.

Living Room To-Dos:

• Buy a couch
• Buy armchairs
• Buy an area rug
• Mount the TV above the fireplace
• Make a painting/picture mural above the couch
• Make curtains

*****

We got our new Posturpedic mattress along with the couch and a chair, but the foundation didn't fit around the tight corners going up the stairway to the master suite. We floor-slept for another week while we waited for them to deliver a lower-profile model. This mattress is a dream. A life-changer.  As long as you don't have a snuggly puppy hacking up a lung in the middle of the night, you will sleep through the night like a baby. 

Bedroom to-dos:

• Paint an accent wall
• Get new lampshades/ spray paint bases
• Get a desk and/or chair for the half-wall by the stairs
• Get an area rug

*****

Last night I was seized by the need to ROY-G-BIV our bookcases. This was right around the time I called the gas company to check out the odor I'd smelled near the dryer. If we're going to get all psychological, I was clearly desperate to assert some control over our living space. Hence: RAINBOWS!

Here is your lesson of the day: if you think you smell gas, call the gas company right away. The benefits are many:

• The visit is free. There's no reason not to put safety first, friends.
• If you call at 8 on a Saturday night, you get to hear the night shift guy's many, many war stories. He might be incredibly racist. He might give you lots of tips on what all the pipes in your basement are for. The morning after he leaves you might discover a mysterious liquid spilled on your washer. These are just a few of the examples of things that can happen.
• The stress of imagining the death by explosion you narrowly avoided can be funneled into some really valuable home projects.

Now that the living room, kitchen, guest room and master are more or less acceptable, I will be focusing my energies on our pretty pink office and the basement, where we've been stashing all the stuff I don't know where to put yet.

You can come visit now. We have at least four places for you to sit. 

Shakshuka

I've had Israel on the brain for awhile now. Brother Bear went there for a conference in December, and I used the occasion to regale him of all the delectable breakfasts I had scarfed up when I went on a trip for college journalists circa 2007. Everything else I stuffed down my gullet was also quite excellent, but the breakfasts at our hotel in Jerusalem were just insanely fresh and good. Fish. Cheeses. Fruit. Toubouleh. Oy!

I've been seeing Kat's instagrammed pics from her Birthright trip to the motherland last month, and my girl Lo returned just days ago from the Land of Milk and Honey. The subsequent social media blitz of camels and deserts and holies of holy set my heart a-achin'.

Then I happened upon Kat's blog entry on her shakshuka foray, and came across David Lebovitz's version but days later. The universe was clearly telling me I needed to make this spicy tomato-and-eggs dish, stat.

Here's the recipe from David's blog, which he adapted from Jerusalem by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi and Secrets of the Best Chefs by Adam Roberts. Smitten Kitchen also has a version on her site. You should probably make different versions of this every day. Because if you can't get yourself to the other side of the world, you have to bring the other side of the world to you.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, peeled and diced
3 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
1/2 – 1 chile pepper (or to taste), stemmed, sliced in half and deseeded, finely diced/minced
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon paprika, smoked or sweet
1 teaspoon caraway seeds, crushed
1 teaspoon cumin seeds, crushed, or 3/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
2 pounds (1kg) ripe tomatoes, cored and diced, or two 14-ounce cans of diced or crushed tomatoes
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 teaspoons honey
1 teaspoon red wine or cider vinegar
1 cup (20g) loosely packed greens, such as radish greens, watercress, kale, Swiss chard, or spinach, coarsely chopped
4 ounces (about 1 cup, 115g) feta cheese, cut in generous, bite-sized cubes
4 to 6 eggs


1. In a wide skillet, heat the olive oil over medium high heat. Add the onions and the garlic and cook for 5 minutes, until soft and wilted. Add the chile pepper, the salt, pepper, and spices. Cook for a minute, stirring constantly, to release their fragrance.

2. Add the fresh or canned tomatoes, tomato paste, honey, and vinegar, reduce the heat to medium, and cook for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened somewhat but is still loose enough so that when you shake the pan it sloshes around. (Fresh tomatoes may take a little longer to cook than canned.) Stir in the chopped greens.

3. If you want to finish the Shakshuka on the stovetop, turn off the heat and press the cubes of feta into the tomato sauce. With the back of a spoon, make 6 indentations in the sauce. Crack an egg into each indentation, then drag a spatula gently through the egg whites so it mingles a bit with the tomato sauce, being careful not to disturb the yolks.
Turn the heat back on so the sauce is at a gentle simmer, and cook for about 10 minutes, taking some of the tomato sauce and basting the egg whites from time-to-time. Cover, and cook 3 to 5 minutes, until the eggs are cooked to your liking.

4. To finish them individually, preheat the oven to 375ºF (180ºC.) Divide the sauce into 6 baking dishes and press the feta cubes into the sauce. Set the baking dishes on a baking sheet, make an indentation in each, and crack and egg into the center. Bake until the eggs are cooked to your liking, basting the whites with some of the sauce midway during baking, which will take anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes – but begin checking them sooner to get them just right. If the yolks begin to get a little firm on top before the whites are cooked, drape a sheet of foil over them, but avoid having it touch the yolks.
Serve with lots of crusty bread for scraping up the sauce.

February: The Month Mint Wouldn't Stop Yelling at Me

Do you guys use Mint? It's a website and app that let you budget and track your spending. If Mint doesn't think you're making very good decisions, like incurring an ATM fee or spending $12 at  coffee shops for the month when you specifically told it you were only going to spend $10, you'll receive an email alert to guilt you into being more responsible.

Sometimes Mint nags you so much that you have to ignore it or risk constantly feeling like a failure of a human.

Mint totally hated me in February. I would get emails that were like, "You just spent tens of thousands of dollars on housing! You usually spend $600. What's wrong with you?!?! Don't go buying any furniture now. Don't do it. I'm serious. Don-- DAG NABIT!"

"Why on earth are you spending money on pets??? Have I taught you nothing???"

"Do you FREAKING REALIZE that you just spent $4 more on groceries than you said you would?! You are going to end up a homeless pauper, with nothing to your name, no one to love and nowhere to live. IDIOT."

You know what, Master Mint? #Hidontevencurr. These groceries are delicious. This house is a palace. And this dog, now officially named Ellis Alfred Swearengen, is the coolest sentient being on the planet. I can save money when I'm dead.

This Damn Dog Stole My Heart

Internet, meet Dino.

Dino is a 4.5-year-old Pomeranian mix. He has little wormies in his heart. But if I was a worm I'd want to be in his heart too.

We met him at the Golden Valley Humane Society. One of the volunteers hooked a leash to his collar and led him to a friendship room so we could get to know him. The whole walk over he kept trying to paw off his snout restraint. It was adorable.

After thoroughly investigating all the alien smells, he felt like maybe it was OK for  us to pet him. He had a hard time looking us in the eye but slumped to the floor and nearly fell asleep while Matt pet his very soft silky puppy fur. Sometimes he looked up at us like this and we died a little bit inside:

Matt scooted back toward the door and Dino was all like, "No no no! More!" and he crawled right into Matt's lap and begged us to be his best friends for ever and always.

We said OK.

Dino (which is apparently pronounced /DEE-no/ and not /DY-no/ as I had assumed) is coming home with us tomorrow and needs a new name. Here are some of our ideas:

Pawlie
Cat
Francois
Barry
Silly
Pickle
Photocopier
Porcelain Cup
Kleenex
Pawnee
Ron Swanson
Mr. Neil Young
The Distinguished Senator from Mississippi
Willenium
Sinkhole
Lamb Chop
Snerf
America
Pamplemousse
Theodore/Teddy (Graham)
Rinkarooroobooboobear
Crinkle
Cruckle

Thoughts?

Sigh... Young Amour: Part 2

One of my fellow English teachers from Franceland Class of '11 sent over a priceless gift today. Her former students have created a Facebook page devoted to gossip and some very interesting anonymous love poetry (according to their mission statement they are looking for students to "declare their flame" or "give us crusty bits of gossip.") Below are translations from French by yours truly of some of the best.

*****

For you, handsome little brunet, I send you a thought
Do you remember last year, a few minutes were enough for us
Like the first letter of your first name, I dream of it still
Of your mouth on mine, of our silhouettes that make one
It was in early morning, you offered me a divine pleasure
Know that I haven't forgotten you, I still can't believe it
That you and me, perhaps, we could take up where we left off
--From a former student of the high school, to a student in 11th grade

*****

Oh you who lights up my days
With your cartoon nickname
I liked so much
The time when you kissed me
Even if you gave in return
A potato in the nose*
Oh my little slip of a woman
You think of me as an ass (kind of like one of your cinematic comrades)
Even if one equates me with a green man*
I wrote you this poem to confess
That I have loved you since last Saturday
Since I say you jiggling
After drinking a bit too much alcoholic beverages

*I may be horribly mistranslating an idiom here

*****  

In our history, our connection have dissolved to a point where today you hate me.
I never dared to tell you this in 10th grade, but today I have a profound desire to snuggle my head between your breasts!
Oh you and your long and curly hair make my heart pulse, when I run into you in the foyer, I would really love to kiss you so languidly

Read Part 1 of Sigh... Young Amour here.

Bus stories

My old bus to work had this guy name George who would get on about 5 minutes into my ride. He was probably in his late 70s, and always had a newspaper and a shock of pomaded white hair that stuck up in the back. The moment he got on he would start regaling the driver in an outside voice with everything that was wrong in the world. Most of his sentences either started or ended with "I tell ya..." and he had lots of theories about President Obama. Like how the reason he wants to take all our guns away is so he can round up all the Jews and send them to Siberia without any citizen resistance.

George was pretty sure most people were out to fleece him most of the time. He was also pretty sure our country and our world was going to hell in a handbasket and would tell anyone who would listen. Everyone on the bus wanted to listen; George was pretty sure of that.

I always wondered if George had an actual destination in downtown or if riding the bus was what he did to socialize.

The bus driver of my old bus to work would respond to George, but Driver never acknowledged my "Good morning!" or my friendly smile or my "Thank you!" when I got off. He just stared at me. Poker-faced. When I returned from France with a broken foot, I hobbled up to the bus with my walking boot and my crutches and looked up at him hopefully, expecting him to lower the ramp. Instead he regarded me icily. I gritted my teeth and hopped up the steps as best I could.

My old bus to work had a stop across the street from a Salvation Army center, which brought an infusion of colorful characters for the last six minutes of the ride. One time a couple of guys had been fighting at the stop, and when the bus arrived one of them managed to punch the other into the bus while Driver yelled, "Hey! Hey! Hey!" but did nothing to stop it. We had to sit there for another 10 minutes post-altercation while he phoned in a report. I don't think George was there that day.

There is nothing interesting about my new bus to work.

Progress Report: Living Room, Guest Room, Office

Since we closed on the hizzy a week and a half ago, we've been in a near constant state of schlepping, organizing and improving upon. I have today off, and I spent a good portion of my morning ROY-G-BIV'ing my dresses and Matt's shirts, if that gives you any indication of the nesting bug that has gripped my very soul. 

We're nowhere near completion, but the masses have cried out for photographic evidence of our housedom, and to them I say: I hear you clucking, big chickens.

Let us start in the living room, which until Saturday doubled as our sleeping quarters with the help of an outrageously comfortable air mattress on loan from Matt's parentals. We still have quite a way go to here, but we've painted it in the soothing tones of April Mist (and by we I mean I taped everything and MIL came over while we were at work and did the rest) and purchased a cute little lamp from Target. 

Here's the before picture, from the previous owners:

And here's what it looks like now:

Living Room To-Dos:

• Buy a couch
• Buy armchairs
• Buy an area rug
• Mount the TV above the fireplace
• Make a painting/picture mural above the couch
• Make curtains

*****

On Saturday we got a moving van and picked up our furniture from the apartment, and thus we were able to sleep in an honest-to-goodness bed once more. The previous owners had two little girls, the older of whom was named Sofia and had a purple princess room with a princess princess princess pink chandelier. We decided this would be our guest room, and since the queen box spring won't make it around the tight corners to the master suite upstairs, our bed is parked here for now. We definitely need to leave the chandy up because it's awesome, but the purple's got to go. Depending one the color scheme we go for, I might want to refinish the furniture and paint it a different color. 

Before :

This is how I know her name is Sofia, BTW; it's not because I'm a master creeper. The paint color in that picture is closer to real life to mine:

 Guest Room To-Dos:

• Re-paint
• Get new bedding
• Get lamp for night table
• Hang map canvases so guests can pin where they're from
• Make curtains
• Refinish/paint furniture

*****

I spent a good chunk of the weekend building things with my bare hands. The Ikea bookcases we bought were snap and a half, but this desk. My god, this desk. It nearly killed me. I'm spectacularly bad at all things that involve hand-eye coordination, and you should probably put hammering at the top of that list. I'm pretty durn lucky not to be writing this from the hospital.

Anyhow. This room had been used as a nursery, but we'll be using it as a home office. Depending on how ambitious we get, we'll probably be doing away with the pale pink walls and the frou frou switch plates, but I continue to find them charming.

Here's a before (again, their fancy real estate photography does a better job picking up the true paint color):

And here is the evil Ikea furniture that I'm going to have to not look at for awhile because we're in a fight:

Office To-Dos:

• Paint
• Buy a chair for the desk
• Buy an area rug
• Buy a lamp for the desk
• Get some binders full of women so it looks real profesh

*****

Sometime this week I'll show you my incredibly organized kitchen cupboards and the book explosion that happened in the basement. Maybe I'll even give you a peek at the ROY-G-BIV'ed closets. If you're good.

On learning to compromise

I was having lunch with Anna, telling her about my Woes of the Week.

"He wants a sectional," I said. "A big, fatty, leather sectional. It will totally overwhelm the space. And I stick to leather in the summer. If there's one thing I know, it's that I didn't buy a house just to stick to the gigantic leather couch in the summer."

This wasn't the only design disagreement we'd been having. I pinned long and hard to come up with a color scheme I was totally in love with for what I'm calling Salon Neenuh. It involves light blue-green walls, neutral fabric furniture and blue and coral accents. He would prefer dark colors, like gray and brown and navy.

This really shouldn't surprise me any more, after nearly six years of being together. I first learned of our taste gulf when we were registering for wedding presents, and I was head over heels for a teal china pattern with BIRDS on it, and he wanted white with a single silver circle. I wanted the bold apple green mixer and he was adamant that we stick to the classic red or white. I wanted bright-bright-bright linens and he wanted brown. I married a monster.

And, I told Anna, he's desperate for a dog. I ticked off the reasons I don't want one:

• The vet bills. Dogs inevitably get ring worm and then cancer and then you have to pay for dog chemo and we just bought a house and how could we possibly afford that.
• The poop. Once you buy a dog you are then responsible for every piece of poop that comes out of its body.
• The shedding. I just spent an entire evening vacuum up the little white hairs the previous owners' best friend left EVERYWHERE-- like, they were even in the bathtub. 
• The noise. What if Pup decides my brother smells weird and it yaps its head off every time he comes over? Sam is related by blood (at least that's what we've been told); I can't just ban him from our house.
• The jealousy. What if we have a baby and then the dog gets jealous because we're not giving it enough attention and then it climbs into baby's crib and sits on baby's face AND KILLS OUR BABY?
• The poop. What if it's a fraidy-dog and I drop something because dropsy and it makes a loud noise and then the dog poops itself on our huge leather sectional?

Anna patiently refuted all my points and told me that I would love being a pet mama and that it would be great practice for being a real mama and that she would be our dog-sitter forever and always amen. And then she had a stroke of genius. I care about the furniture. Matt cares about the dog. I should use dog ownership as a bargaining chip to get him to cede decision-making capabilities.

Reader, that's what I did. And it totally worked. I look forward to inviting you to our humble abode this summer, where the yard will be poop-filled and the couches will be stick-free.

Home Wish List

Must have:
-Three bedrooms
-Two bathrooms
-Medium back yard
-Garage
-Finished basement
-New windows

Would like to have:
-Turrets
-Stained glass windows in every room
-Secret passages
-Treehouse
-Absurd amount of cupboard space in the kitchen (like enough to store several small children in (for hide and seek purposes))
-Window seats
-Treasures from times gone by hidden away in the attic
-Claw-foot bathtub

Must not have:*
-Vagrant men who pee in the backyard
-Ripped-out crown molding
-Haunted basement/attic
-A pervasive odor of cat pee
-Cast iron boiler circa 1903
-A store called "Liquor Barrel" around the corner

*All things present in houses we looked at today

Things people will no longer say to me

Das Boot: 8/14/12-9/12/12

• What'd you do?
• You should be more careful!
• Bet you won't be dancing for awhile!
• Were you dancing too much?
• You should stop kicking your husband so hard!
• (Stare)
• Nice boot!
• Your shoes don't match!
• Look at your peg leg! 
• (Stare)
• You broke it in Paris? I bet there's a good story behind that!
• At least it happened on the last day of your trip and not the first day!
• At least it didn't happen in winter!
• (Stare)
• (Laugh)
• (Stare)
• Does it hurt?
• Are you on drugs?
• Can you drive?
• (Stare)
• I broke my foot once. It was way worse.
• I broke my arm once.
• You're going to get arthritis!

I'd like to thank the people of Paris, Icelandair Flights 543 and 657, Louisville and, most of all, Saint Paul for the all their concern during the past month. You can stop staring at me now.

Ways I wish I'd broken my foot

I broke my foot in Paris.

That line, which I've repeated ad naseum all week in response to the countless queries of "Wha hoppon?", would lead you to believe there's a really good story behind it. There isn't. There's basically no reason for me to have broken my foot. I was stepping off a sidewalk and my foot slipped. C'est tout.

Here's what I wish I could say:

• I was chasing pigeons
• I slipped in dog merde. Damn French people who don't clean up after their dogs...
• I was helping an old blind man cross the street à la Amélie and a speeding moped ran me over
• I was attacked near Pigalle and stomped on my aggressor's steel-booted instep like I learned in self-defense
• I was so inspired by the American Women's Gymastics Team's success that I decided to cartwheel down the Champs de Mars
• I was running to catch a train in the métro and the door closed on my hoof
• I was taking one of my signature jumping-in-front-of-monument pictures

Le sigh. 

You'll come for the Troglodytes but you'll stay for the geese

French websites seldom disappoint. On the English translations of even classy hotel sites, you'll often find delightful turns of phrase like:

For a little break between all those sights seeing, why not relaxing with a wellness stay ?... To that we propose you a stay for two, including a double room in the Manor with breakfasts and a massage package (for 2 hours) at the Jardin de Valentine at the Jardin de Valentine, beauty center in the heart of Amboise (15 min. walk).

Why not relaxing, I demand you? Propose me all you got. I'll takes it.

A wonderful gem I found yesterday was the site for the Troglodyte village outside of Saumur. On the photos and videos page, there were several short videos that one would think would take one on a tour of the cave dwellers' lair. But mostly, there is this. And this. And then there's this one, which started off so promising...

I just conquered the Loire

I'm going back to Franceland in but four short weeks, and it wasn't until yesterday that my maniacal planning tendencies kicked in. I tend toward exhaustive, pages-long itineraries that cover every option and ticket price for anything you might find interesting in a specific city, complete with a to-the-minute train timetable. 

The plan for next month is that take the train from Paris to Digoin immediately after I arrive, and the next day I'll enjoy the delights of the Escargot Festival. Amanda gets in two days later, and we will go wine-tasting and gourmet dinner-eating to our hearts' delight. After four days and five nights of glorious Diggy, we will make our way to the Loire Valley region and all its pretty pretty princess chateaux, then Monet's gardens in Giverny, then Paris, then home. 

That's where I got stuck. There was not a good way to see everything sans voiture, and I was at my wits' end on how to squeeze in a trip to see troglodyte awesomeness in Saumur. I spent hours on the SNCF website testing the viability of various routes and home bases. This afternoon I finally settled upon the Most Perfect Itinerary. Feast your eyes, francophiles:

WEDNESDAY: DIGOIN-->AMBOISE-->CHENONCEAUX

Chateau Royal d'Amboise

Chateau de Clos Luce (final home of Leonardo da Vinci)

Chateau de Chenonceau

WEDNESDAY: AMBOISE-->SAUMUR

Chateau de Saumur

Musée du Champignon

Troglodyte home

FRIDAY: AMBOISE-->BLOIS-->CHAMBORD-->CHEVERNY-->VERNON

Chambord

Cheverny

SATURDAY: VERNON-->GIVERNY-->PARIS

Giverny

Giverny

Everything delicious in my life comes from Pinterest

There are a few technological advances in this world that I can say have legitimately changed my life. One is digital cameras. Another is Netflix streaming. The latest, and greatest, is Pinterest.

Lots of people I follow use it to plan their weddings or babies' birthdays or what their next home decor project should be. I mostly use it to plan what goes into my mouth.

Exhibits A and B are the two dishes I assembled at a raucous barbecue chez Parsley last night: Fig Gorgonzola Honey Tartines and Grilled Peach Salad with Mozzarella and Arugula. Nom factor: through the roof. Here's some Instagrammed photographic evidence:

 

 

In no particular order, here are some other delicious dishes that have graced my table recently:


Springtime Honey Garlic Roast Chicken Skillet:

With this guy you roast entire heads of garlic and then mush it up with honey for a Flavor Paste of the Gods to schmear on your chicken and veggies. Plus, the ingredients only came to around $20, and we ate it for at least six meals. Score. 


The Loaded Bowl: 

Dude and I are still trying valiantly to battle the Marriage Fifteen, and this dish is a nice low-cal but filling option. Just don't eat it for lunch on a day where you have important meetings, if you know what I mean...

Spicy Roasted Broccolini Quinoia Salad:

My coworkers are crazy about the quinoia these days, and this dish was my first foray into that trendy grain. The lemony roasted and slightly spicy broccolini are what really make this sing. I'm drooling a little bit right now. So grood.

Rosemary Olive Oil Cake:

I made this for a Downton Abbey viewing party and it was just perfection on a plate. The rosemary provides an unusual but pleasant element, and the pinch of salt goes a long way in making this an almost-savory delight. Perfect for tea parties, brunches, and viewings of House-In-A-Teacup-type shows.

Please share with the class, Francey Pantsers: what are your favorite new delicacies, pinned or otherwise?