For the record, I'm not a miracle worker

In a list of referring urls (how people come to this blog), I found this today:

"http://www.google.com/m/search/...o make pennis bigger n thicker"

Google clearly thinks pretty darn highly of this website's capabilities, and they're the experts. So, if I have helped any reader out in this regard, I'm glad to have been of service.

10 things I loved about camp (a photo collection without footnotes)

1. Tie dying my shoes

2. High altitude basketball (where my kids teamed up to claim the championship and the free milkshakes that came with it)


3. Hikes with nice lunch stops


4. Disco Bingo

5. Omelets on the deck

6. Watching my children rise out of the lake in a shining spray of sheer delight


7. The annual Capture the Flag swearing-in ceremony

8. Making a spitting image of my dog out of a few balls of wool


9. A persuasive argument for getting up at dawn to catch the sunrise


10. The face of someone who told me today that camp is better than grilled cheese sandwiches AND Disneyland.


photo credits shared with my sister

6,600 tiny evacuees

T-minus 6 days until my mom's birthday. The subtle campaign continues.

When my sister picked her up to go grocery shopping, they could see the huge plumes of gray smoke from the 42,500 acre station fire directly out of the car windows in front of them.

My mom: My goodness! I had no idea the fire was so big! It looks so tiny on my little 13 inch TV.

The road we travelled

A few highlights from our road trip en route to our annual week at family camp.

The plan: Hit the road by 8 am, pick up my son from his camp right after lunch, and arrive triumphantly at Fallen Leaf Lake just in time for the nonsensical welcome skit-o-rama that officially kicks off the week up here. ETA: 8pm at the latest.

9:15 am: We pull out of the driveway. We have loaded up the car with luggage for a week, snacks, DVDs, headphones, 2 laptops, 5 tennis rackets, several pillows, one car seat, 2 kids and 4 adults*. Incredibly, we are all comfortable and can see out of our windows.
9:17 am: We pull into the shopping center across the street for Starbucks and Jamba Juice.
9:40 am: We pull onto the freeway. Every cup holder is full.
12:50 pm: In N Out stop in Fresno**
2 pm: Begin circling Bass Lake, looking for a pack of dirty children and some camp vans. Our directions are bad, and it turns out that every twist of the road unveils another herd of kids who are definitely filthy but not related to us. Debate picking one of them up to try and salvage schedule. Decide against it.***
2:20 pm: Stop for bathroom break and to ask directions. We have been going the wrong way around the lake for several miles, but no one has to pee any more. We consider the stop a draw.
2:45 pm: Arrive at campsite. Find long lost son fuming at a picnic table because we are nearly two hours late, but make up for it by embarrassing him with big sloppy hug in front of his newly formed peer group. Tour lakeside dust bowl that has been their home for the past few days, then stuff his enormous duffle, sleeping bag, and smelly body into the car. We are now significantly less comfortable.
3:10 pm: Depart Bass Lake.
4:00 pm: Our route will take us right through Yosemite, into the valley floor. It is a magnificent sunny day. Most people in our car have never had the opportunity to see this awe inspiring natural wonder. Most people in our car are thrilled to have the chance to stop, stretch their legs, and marvel at Half Dome and El Cap and the falls that appear as we first emerge into the park. My daughter has this to say:

Us: Wow! Isn't this incredible?
Her: Jeez, Mom. It's just some mountains. We're GOING to the mountains. These are not the right mountains. And we're going to miss the skits. I can't BELIEVE we stopped for this.
My niece: (tearing up) We're going to miss the skits?
Her mom: (taking photo for posterity anyway) Smile!
My son: Did you charge my PSP?

4:45 pm: Snack and drink stop at Village Store. All is momentarily forgiven for candy.
5:45 pm: Leave Yosemite. Google maps is estimating an additional 139 miles, mostly over winding mountain roads. When you add in a dinner stop we are dead meat, skit-wise, candy or no candy.
6:01 pm: We round a curve and my niece pipes up, "Mommy? My belly hurts." This is five year old code for, "I'm gonna blow." Damn candy. We speed up. If the gods are with us, we can outrun her.
7:10 pm: Like an oasis rising out of the desert, we descend the final mile of the Tioga Pass to find the neon lights of the Mobil Mart shining like a beacon. The entire car**** breaks out in cheers, "The Whoa Nellie Deli! The Whoa Nellie Deli! It's open! It's open! Hooray!"
7:45 pm: We eat happily*****, grab a couple of bottles of wine****** and a snow globe to go, then pile in for the home stretch to camp.
9:35 pm: Tire pressure warning light comes on. We are in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. By some miracle, we find a shuttered gas station and pump the tire back up.
9:39 pm: Tire flat as a pancake. We have left any form of civilization back at the shuttered gas station. We do find a gravel turnout with a lone streetlight. No cell service. Menfolk deal with situation: One begins reading the car manual with curiosity. The other calls OnStar.

OnStar Lady: Hello, Mr. X! How may I be of service to you this evening?
My brother-in-law: We have a flat tire. Our cell phones don't work, and we are stranded in the middle of the mountains at night.
OSL: That's no problem, Mr. X! I'd be happy to connect you to roadside assistance. Please hold!
[Long pause]
Mr. X? I have roadside assistance on the line! Have a great evening and thanks for using OnStar!
Roadside Assistance Lady: Hi Mr. X! How are you tonight?
My brother-in-law: Not great. I have a flat tire.
RAL: No problem! Where are you located?
MBIL: In the middle of nowhere, just past the intersection of two deserted mountain highways, in a gravel turnout with a lone streetlight. I think I just heard a pack of wolves nearby.
RAL: No problem! I'm just going to put you on hold while I contact a service provider.
[20 minutes pass. Other male in the car has found relevant section of the manual, and is completely unpacking the car to reach the toolbox hidden in the back. Luggage now covers most of the turnout. Children have taken turns peeing in the woods and are now either a) hiding their face in a pillow and trying to sleep, b) watching a Scooby Doo video or c) asking with great enthusiasm, "Can I change the tire? This is so exciting! I love this! Can I? Can I? Wait! I need to go pee again! Yay!" Yosemite is apparently a waste of time, but this is a great plan.]
RAL: Mr. X? I just called [name of shuttered gas station we just passed] and there's no answer.
MBIL: This is probably because they are closed. Please try someone in an actual town.
RAL: No problem! Please hold!
[Another extended pause. Those meddling kids foil another plot. My daughter contentedly throws rocks into the darkness. No luck sleeping for pillow kid.]
RAL: Mr X? I reached a service provider who will be there in 30 minutes. What is your phone number so I can have them contact you?
MBIL: Did I mention that our cell phones don't work?
RAL: No problem!

10:40 pm: The tow truck shows up. And there was much rejoicing.
11:20 pm: We pull into camp. Amen.

* Two of whom (the females) are pretty darn grumpy because they stayed up until an ungodly hour getting all the stuff packed and ready for this @#%?& vacation. I asked myself at 1 am, in a panic, "Did I forget to charge the PSP?" I did not. I also thankfully remembered around 2 am to throw in the sand toys, laundry detergent, and a large afro wig. My sister decides, shortly thereafter, that she needs to pay all of her bills before we go, and asks if I have any stamps and is the fax machine working so she can submit a few expense reports.
** 1. It's Saturday. We always have In N Out for lunch on Saturdays. 2. It's a road trip. We always have In N Out for lunch on a road trip. Cha ching! We get a 2-fer!
*** They really are dirty, and several of them have actual parents with them.
**** My silent thanks go out as well to the gods who have delivered us from car sickness.
***** Homemade carnitas tacos, Caesar salad with marinated skirt steak, seared Ahi tuna, porterhouse steak with mashed potatoes, 2 hot dogs, and a burger.
***** Why? Because we need it. The camp wine steward does not work past 10.

Do I dare?

Begin strange intro now:

The August 2009 Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Angela of A Spoonful of Sugar and Lorraine of Not Quite Nigella. They chose the spectacular Dobos Torte based on a recipe from Rick Rodgers' cookbook Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Caffés of Vienna, Budapest, and Prague.

Explain strange intro now:

As Steve Martin so famously said, "I can do this act alone. I often do." But apparently, that doesn't have to be the case. All over the web, bloggers have bonded into net-wide coalitions, posting en masse in a frenzied outpouring of prose and photos and general togetherness on various topics. In the cooking world alone one could be busy almost daily, between Tuesdays with Dorie and Thursday's Barefoot Bloggers. I’m sure there’s Wolfgang Puck Wednesdays and a Morimoto Monday if I just looked hard enough. I have decided to dip my toe into this thing from the fringes of Cheesy Pennies Land by joining The Daring Bakers*. From what I can tell, it's a bit like Fight Club**.

1. There is an uber secret recipe challenge every month.
2. You must make the uber secret recipe in secret.
3. On a pre-determined day, everybody "reveals" the challenge and how it came out***.
4. If you don't keep the secret, I think something very bad happens****.

And so, with a big drum roll, here is my first production as a Daring Baker:


Pretty darn impressive, huh? (pause for applause)

But here's the thing. It was a lot of work. Totally doable, but a lot of work*****. I hand form thin layers of sponge cake. I whip up an intensely rich butter cream frosting. I decide the recipe's version is cloyingly sweet, and improvise by adding both a pinch of salt and some coffee for flavor. I rock! I make caramel. It's way too lemony for my taste or to suit the rest of the flavors in this cake, but there's no way to fix that. I add a pinch of salt anyway to make myself feel better. I coat a layer of cake with said caramel, and then swear a lot as I try to cut that sticky stuff into decorative wedges. I chop Marcona almonds and macadamia nuts. And then I'm still facing this step called "assembly"******.


But I did it, and the torte looked amazing. My sister and I cut into it with anticipation. And were underwhelmed. It tasted fine. Good even. But after all that? I wanted to be blown away. Only one part of this monumental effort did live up to the hype, and that was the frosting. That stuff was silky, smooth, buttery bliss on a spoon. Made the whole thing worth it, just to lick that mixing bowl.

Will I be baking again? I can't tell you, or I'd have to kill you.

Rich Mocha Buttercream
the best part of the Dobos Torte

4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 cup bakers sugar (superfine white sugar)
4oz bakers semi-sweet chocolate or your favorite dark chocolate, finely chopped (I used Trader Joe's Organic Dark Bars)
1 Tbs. finely ground (like to a powder) instant coffee
2 sticks plus 2 tablespoons butter, at room temperature.

Note: This can be prepared in advance and kept chilled until required. Allow to come to room temp before using.
1. Prepare a double-boiler: quarter-fill a large saucepan with water and bring it to a boil.
2. Meanwhile, whisk the eggs with the sugar until pale and thickened, about five minutes. You can use a balloon whisk or electric hand mixer for this.
3. Fit bowl over the boiling water in the saucepan (water should not touch bowl) and lower the heat to a brisk simmer. Cook the egg mixture, whisking constantly, for 2-3 minutes until you see it starting to thicken a bit. Whisk in the finely chopped chocolate and cook, stirring, for a further 2-3 minutes. Add the coffee powder.
4. Scrape the chocolate mixture into a medium bowl and leave to cool to room temperature. It should be quite thick and sticky in consistency.
5. When cool, beat in the soft butter, a small piece (about 2 tablespoons) at a time. An electric hand mixer is great here, but it is possible to beat the butter in with a spatula if it is soft enough. You should end up with a thick, velvety mocha buttercream. It would be fantastic on cupcakes, chocolate cake, vanilla cake, or just by itself. DIG IN!
If anyone would like the full recipe, let me know and I'll pass it along!

* Main attractions: Monthly activity, not weekly. Involves baking.
** "The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club."
*** I am so following these rules! Go me! For example, not only did I use the "club" intro text properly (I hope!) I actually wrote this post like a week ago, but kept it uber secret until today!
**** Just kidding. I think they just kick you out of the blogroll.
***** Perhaps a clue for me in the name "challenge."
****** If you haven't noticed, very few of the recipes I talk about have this as part of the process. Usually, it's straight from the oven to "dig in."

Foodie Girls Lunch Brigade – Episode 4

The brigade hit the streets again last week, and simultaneously managed to stick with our short lived traditions (we were drawn in to this latest spot by reports of an outstanding dish that featured pork*) and break with them (we brought along our kids). Let's see how it went.

Episode 4 - The slow food movement

The scene is Little Dom's, a quiet, cozy spot in Los Feliz, on a bright and sunny Thursday afternoon. The door to the restaurant swings open, once, twice, and then a third time. It is suddenly a bit less quiet. Four women, seven children under the age of 12, and a camera have come for lunch. They have come here based on this e-mail from FG2:

"Either of you been to Little Dom's? Have I gone completely ape s***, or does this place look amazing? I know it's far, but we should really put it on the list. Wait, do we even have a list?"

The group settles at an improvised table, peruses the menu, and orders with abandon: Cheese pizza, arugula salad with roasted grapes, fried Fontina cheese, and aged balsamic, risotto balls, a meatball sandwich, a side of potatoes (more on those in a minute) egg white frittata with wild boar bacon, fresh made pasta carbonara, pepperoni and sausage pizza, fried oyster sandwich, Little Dom's chopped salad, and the dish we've all heard about: pizza with a sunny side up egg, speck, mozzarella and tomato sauce. It becomes evident that the benefit of bringing kids is that we can order way more food without being embarrassed. It also becomes evident that the kids don't find that nearly as exciting as we do.

The food arrives. The pizzas were terrific. They arrive on a wooden plank, the edges puffy and crisp, the crust almost impossibly thin. The sauce was zesty without being overpowering, and the ingredients were absolutely fresh. Everyone loved them. The famous breakfast pizza was excellent. The risotto balls were tasty, too. The other winner was the potatoes that came as a side. According to our waiter, these were basically potatoes five ways: boiled, then pan seared, then roasted, then fried, then scattered with lemon juice, salt, and parsley. [You can see them in the photo of the meatball sandwich, above.] They were so good we ordered a side of them on their own. Delectable! The rest ranged from fine (the meatball sandwich, frittata, and pasta) to not so great (the grape salad and the oyster sandwich were pretty awful). And the service was super slooooow.

On the plus side, they had a great mirror to allow our little ballerinas to watch themselves dance around while they were waiting for their food. You can't put a price on that.

Foodie Girls Final Verdict: Little Dom's stays on the list...so long as you order pizza and potatoes, and aren't in any rush when you go.

* On an episode of the Food Network show "The Best Thing I Ever Ate", this pizza was top of the list.

My sister's keeper

Since early January, my brother-in-law has been a member of our nutty household. He himself is the opposite of nutty. He’s a calm, matter-of fact guy, with a taste for tennis, mixed nuts, a glass of red wine on occasion. I think the exposure to our maniac ways has been both eye-opening and amusing to him, although he does often seem perplexed by the effusive greetings from the 100 lb. dog when he returns from a business trip, or my daughter’s high-pitched squeals from the pool outside his room. He is one of the most level headed people I know, and it’s been an unexpected pleasure to have had this time to get to know him better*.

That’s why it’s been so gut wrenching to watch the twisted, ridiculous, torturous tale of his California adventure unfold. Originally transferred here by GM to start what was supposed to be a three year tour of duty, our collective excitement dimmed as the strain of living out of boxes and with a mother-in-law in Michigan began to take a serious toll on his wife and child. Every weekend here was full of fruitless rounds of open houses and real estate tours And the new job consisted of helping decide which GM dealerships were on the chopping block, and then being the bearer of bad news, day after day.

When my sister and niece arrived, you could almost see the burdens he’d been carrying simultaneously lift and shift. The drive to find a home for the people he loved consumed him, but every house hunting outing became a Goldilocks situation:

“Too small”
“No pool”
“Too old”
“Wrong schools”
“Too cold”
“Not cool”

And then, on the day they finally found the perfect house (a delighted chorus of “Just Right!!!” from the entire displaced Michigan clan, and a huge sigh of relief from their incredibly patient but increasingly baffled real estate agent), the news broke. And he did, too. His job, tough as it was, had been eliminated. The whole, precarious plan, the months of upheaval, the push towards normalcy, had all been derailed with the stroke of a pen. Worse still, they put him in a kind of crazy limbo that only a company like GM would be capable of: he was on a list of people to be reassigned, but no specific job was available. If he did not get a “reassignment” within two weeks, he’d be laid off. And the reassignment was completely out of his control.

No amount of tennis, wine, nuts, or support from all of us could make this better**. You could see, writ large all over his face, the savage self-criticism of a person whose role as provider for his family was on shaky ground.

Although this story is repeating itself all over the country, with as many small painful variations are there are people losing their jobs every day, the blow is deeply and intensely personal, and it reverberates down to the very foundations of a family.

On one of the dark days of limbo, I came home to find my sister cutting into a bubbling pan of the cheesiest, most luscious sausage and spinach lasagna. Clearly, the urge to cook people into feeling better runs strong in our family. Everyone gathered around the dinner table and dug in, and the lasagna did indeed work its magic. Laughter and chatter flowed across the circle of warm light, as we savored both the food and the pleasure of having the people we loved all around us. The dog was at our feet, vacuuming up every crumb that dropped. That dinner reminded us that no matter what, our foundations were intact**.

Now, we are counting ourselves lucky, and deeply thankful, that we heard this week that he is likely to get one of the coveted reassignments, to a position that not only preserves his stature at the company but actually interests him. He’s cautiously excited, and immensely relieved. And the hunt for the perfect house will resume, in Washington D.C.***


My Sister's Magic Lasagna
Also known as Get Several Pounds of Everything at the Store Lasagna or “Really? You put THAT much cheese in here?” Lasagna

1 box of lasagna noodles
2 lbs. ground beef
1 lb. Italian sausage
1 Vidalia or other sweet onion, chopped
¼ c. chopped garlic
1 lb. mushrooms, chopped (optional)
2 ½ large jars of hearty marinara sauce, preferably Mids, preferably with sausage (!)
1 large can chopped tomatoes
Some tomato paste, on standby
Italian spices, on standby
Salt
Pepper
1 container of ricotta cheese
4 c. grated or shredded mozzarella cheese (one package, if you buy it pre-grated)
4 1/2 c. grated or shredded cheddar cheese
1 ½ c. grated Parmesan cheese
about 2 Tbs. chopped parsley or other fresh herbs
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and completely drained of excess water (optional)

Preheat to oven to 350. Oil a 9x13 pan with cooking spray, and get out a cookie sheet to hold the pan.

Boil water and cook most of a package lasagna noodles according to directions, then rinse in cold water.

Brown the meats together, and drain of fat.

Cook up the onion and garlic in some of the meat fat until softened. Take ½ of the onion mixture and put it in with the meat, along with some salt & pepper. Take other half, sauté in the mushrooms if you are using them, and add that mixture to the marinara sauce in a large pot. You need a lot of sauce. Add the chopped tomatoes. Season to taste with the herbs to make it yummy. Use your standby tomato paste if you want to intensify the flavor. Allow sauce to simmer on low while you make the cheese part.

Combine in a large mixing bowl the tub of ricotta cheese, the mozzarella cheese, 2 c. of the cheddar cheese, the Parmesan cheese, chopped parsley, a little salt and pepper, and the eggs. Mush with your hands ‘til its nice and goopy.

Now you are ready to assemble your lasagna. Start with a layer of sauce. Then add noodles, covering the whole thing. You can cut the noodles to make them fit if you need to. Then cheese. Be generous. Layer on some meat. Sauce. Noodles. Cheese. Meat. (Insert layer of spinach here, if you are using it.) Sauce. Noodles. Cheese. Meat. Sauce. (Spinach) Noodles. Sauce. Finish with 1 ½ c. of cheddar cheese.

Put the completely stuffed pan on top of the cookie sheet, and bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Cover with foil about 30 minutes in. You should see some drips and bubbling over happening. Add another cup of cheddar cheese (!), then bake for 5 more minutes. Allow to set for at least 10 minutes, but preferably 20. This tastes even better the next day.

* Between my sister and my niece, it’s pretty hard for him to make much of an impression when they are in the room.
** It was powerful stuff. The good news came through just a few days later.
*** Selfishly, and oh so quietly, this Goldilocks is saying, “Too far.” I don’t want to jinx anything, but man!