Paraskevidekatriaphobia

Before we can all go happily off to Valentine's Day and declare victory and love and chocolate tomorrow, we have to survive today.  I'm not a superstitious person, but even I get a little nervous about Friday the 13th.

And that was before I looked it up.

This thing is a problem, and not just for Kevin Bacon.

Per Wikipedia, according to the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, North Carolina, an estimated 17 to 21 million people in the United States are affected by a fear of this day, making it the most feared day and date in history.  They even have a name for this debilitating situation:

Paraskevidekatriaphobia.

The word alone is terrifying*.

So here's the plan. Let's hunker down, stay in, read a good book, and have some super safe soup today.

Book ideas**:

All The Light We Cannot See - Anthony Doerr

The tale of a blind refugee from Paris and a young German radio operator during WWII. Magical.

 

Everything I Never Told You - Celeste Ng

Heartbreaking story about the weight of things unsaid in a family.  The writing will grab you and make you weep.

We are All Completely Beside Ourselves - Karen Joy Fowler

Don't read anything about this book.  Just read it.  Wow!

 

 The Martian - Andy Weir

Pure, sci-fi fun.  I listened to this one and enjoyed every minute.

Ready Player One - Ernest Kline

One massive global live video game for all the marbles.  With Monty Python and Rush references.  What more can you ask for?

 The Silkworm  - Robert Galbraith (actually JK Rowling)

The PI at the heart of this book, along with the very good first one in the series, The Cuckoo's Calling, is a fascinating character, and the mystery keeps you guessing. 

 The Storied Life of AJ Fikry - Gabreille Zevin

I'm a sucker for a good book about a bookstore.  This is one.

 Not My Father's Son: A Memoir - Alan Cumming 

Holy shit what a story!  If, like me, you only know him from Masterpiece Theater on PBS or as Eli Gold, this is an eye opener.  He narrates the Audible version...highly recommended!

A Tale for the Time Being - Ruth Ozeki

I loved loved loved this book.  Clever, funny, tragic, and above all unique.  The voice of the main character will stay with me always.

The Narrow Road to the Deep North - Richard Flanagan

A harrowing story of a POW in Japan, stunningly well told.

Big Little Lies - Liane Moriarty

If you've ever hung out with a group of gossipy parents in kindergarden, this is the book for you. Is it great literature? No. Is it a little heavy handed at times? Sure. Is it damn entertaining? You bet.

Soup idea:

Creamy, slightly spicy soup full of turkey sausage meatballs, kale and a little bit of nubby rice. Enriched with white beans and incredibly good for you.  Even if the rest of your day is unsettling, this should be 100% risk free.

Let's read, eat this soup, and if we make it through the night, we defy the gods and shout about love from the rooftops tomorrow.

With some crazy delicious dessert after.***

Go easy

Breathe.

Thanksgiving, in all its oven-hogging, prep-for-days, button-busting glory, is over. You did, or didn't, shop yourself silly for 72 hours straight. The pile of emails waiting for you when you got back to work is (barely) manageable again. Yes, Christmas is coming, but not just yet.

Breathe.

You can think about that later. Now is the time be with a friend who found cancer in her body. Now is the time to clasp her lightly about the shoulders, because there are tubes in her chest where her breasts used to be. Now is the time to imagine how much fear she has carried alone.

They got it, she says, with hope and a little awe at the odds of it having been found at all.  Her mouth twists and she holds her thick black hair in her hands. It is not over yet. 

You breathe, together.
Then you both breathe a little more easily and begin to talk again while you eat.

Now is the time, the perfect time, for a gentle lentil salad and some peace.

Sausage and Kale...for Days!

-- From UrbanDictionary.

I'm not normally a "for days" kind of person, especially when it comes to food*.  But once I stumbled onto this combination?

I was hooked.

It's this crazy, easy mix of spicy, hearty sausage and quickly braised kale.  I literally eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  With eggs, rice, pasta, soup or just in a bowl for a snack.  It's scarily healthy, since you use lean turkey sausage and cook out nearly all of the fat.  Then there's kale, the perfect slightly bitter foil for the salty warm sausage.  Kale is ridiculously good for you of course, but you'll forget all that once it soaks up the lemon juice and all those spices and becomes tender and delicious and perfect.

Yep. I got killer meals FOR DAYS, people!

Of course, it may last that long because my husband won't touch the stuff**.

Tomatomania makes even me look good

I am such a crappy gardener that last year I actually paid a farmer to grow vegetables in my own back yard for me.

My farmer's name was Anthony, and he was awesome.  I had beautifully tended raised beds of exotic produce, and bumper crops of squash and eggplant.  I also had a husband who informed me that I needed to stop hanging out with my girlfriends who were doing things like hiring farmers.  

So this year, I was on my own.  

Consequently, my carefully selected* baby heirlooms from the good people at Tomatomania, planted lovingly back in April in neat rows and tied up with string, are now a massive jungle of crazy ass tangled up tomato plants.  Plus, there's a scraggly patch of sage and some sad, leggy basil bushes with holes in all the leaves, probably from some kind of icky bug.  Anthony would know, but I'm not allowed to call him anymore**.

Amazingly, the tomatoes are thriving under my policy of complete and utter neglect, and the thicket is spewing out fruit like there's no tomorrow.

I can't take any credit for the crop, but I will take credit for all the delicious food we've been having as a result***.

Heirloom Tomato Pie

Pulled pork: The opposite of being made to look like an idiot in 19th century Scotland

Per my two minutes of online research, this is the origin of the phrase "Pull One's Leg":

"When you pull a person's leg you are spoofing or making fun of him, usually in a good-humored way. But that wasn't always the meaning of the expression. When the expression first turned up in Scotland about a hundred years ago, it was lacking the lighthearted touch it has today. In those days 'pull one's leg' meant to make of fool of him, often by outright cheating. The best theory of the origin of the phrase is that by tripping a person -- pulling his leg -- you can throw him into a state of confusion and make him look very foolish indeed." From "Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins" by William and Mary Morris (HarperCollinsPublishers)." - phrases.org.UK

Fortunately, when you have pulled pork instead of a pulled leg, something very different happens. You look very wise indeed, and people are way too busy eating to even think about laughing at you.  Lightheartedly or not.

Easter Egg Sandwich

I'm an Easter egg underachiever.

Instead of decoupage, decals, natural hues from bark or moss or tea, pastel glitter dips, add-on beaks or wings or butterflies, hand-drawn stencils, google-y eyes, fuzzy feet, elaborate swirls, polka dots, tartan plaids, embossed golden curlicues, or anything in this slideshow, when we bother to decorate eggs, we go with Paas. The stinky, completely chemical stuff from the drug store that stains everything but the eggs, because the dorky loop egg holders never work.

It makes a big mess, the eggs stick to the carton because somebody put them back in there before they were dry, and then you have dozens of uneaten, mis-matched hard-boiled eggs in the fridge.  When you peel one to make your eighth egg salad sandwich of the week, inevitably there are tiny veins of residual color running through the egg, which are visually interesting but definitely tend to dampen the appetite.

Plus, they do not contain sour jelly beans, Skittles, or M&Ms.  The plastic eggs from the drugstore, on the other hand, do contain candy, and are already colored.  Guess which ones everybody likes better?

No contest*.

Why put your eggs through all that?

Fry (or scramble!) 'em up and put them in a sandwich instead.

Cook My Mailbox - Weekend V, Part II

French onion soup, to me, is one of those dishes that you can judge a restaurant by.  Is the broth the right combination of rich and clean?  Are the onions meltingly soft and sweet, but not disintegrated? Most of all, is that layer of broiled cheese and toasted bread so delicious when spooned up with the soup that you want to weep tears of gratitude?

I have had many, many bowls of disappointing onion soup*, and three that were truly memorable.  The classic French version from La Bonne Soupe, one of my favorite spots in NYC, is awesome, and I still go back for it any chance I get.  I savored an impeccably done bowl one night at Daniel Bouloud's now closed Brasserie in the Wynn, Las Vegas, while swans floated by outside the window.  Finally, one rainy afternoon, years ago, on my own for a business trip,  I went down to the restaurant at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge and ordered the onion soup. Instead of the traditional version, theirs had apple cider in it, and a bubbling layer of sharp cheddar cheese on top.  It was so surprisingly great that the memory of it still haunts me to this day**.

I normally don't even bother making onion soup at home, because my husband can't stand the stuff***.  This weekend, though, I used the occasion of the blogger meeting soup theme to give it a shot****.  Partially I was drawn in by the moutwatering photo in "Onion Love" section of the Feb/March issue of Fine Cooking, but mostly I was trying to bring back that rainy afternoon in Cambridge.

I have to say, this came awfully close.

Cook My Mailbox - Weekend V - Part I

As I quoted Steve Martin a while back:  "I can do this act alone.  I often do."  Even when I've taken baby steps towards linking up with other bloggers, it's been totally virtual:  Everybody make tiramisu!  Send a dozen cookies UPS!  Right up my alley. But I've never actually met any other bloggers in real life, at least not intentionally*.  Sure, I'd enviously read posts from conferences and seminars and clubby trips to the Mexican Riviera with cocktails.  Lived vicariously on tours of wine country and retreats with notable luminaries from around the web.  I felt a pang when I saw the groaning tables of food from the community potlucks.  "Maybe, someday, not now of course"...I'd say to my cat, doing my best Steve Martin imitation**.  He'd twitch his tail, then leave me alone at the keyboard again.

But yesterday, that all changed.  It turns out that you can just...go!  And learn stuff***!  And eat really good food and everyone will be nice to you and invite you back the next time. Who knew?

Fine Cooking, that's who.  When I learned that the upcoming meeting of Los Angeles Food Bloggers had a "Soups and Stews" theme, this had just landed on my kitchen table:

If there ever was a time to cook my mailbox and brave a roomful of perfect strangers in the interest of blogger bonding, this was it.

 There really was a groaning table. Our gracious hostess was Kate, from Savour Fare.

 Vintage Cheese Straws, from Leslie of Bake This Cake

 Our hostess' Mushroom Soup with Parmesan 

 My Sausage & Fennel Chowder

 Crusty Oatmeal Bread, from one of the founders of the group, Erika, of In Erika's Kitchen

 Tomato Bisque with Bacon, from Stephen and Art of Latino Foodie

Sampling the Scottish Lentil and Farro Soup, by Christina of Christina's Cucina

I got lucky this time, but maybe everyone is not quite as warm and welcoming as the Los Angeles Food Bloggers.  I'd hate to have gone all the way to Mexico and been shunned, you know?

Baby steps.