This is Forty.

It's a new year. Happy New Year. I've never been one to make resolutions. I don't like to have hard and fast rules for myself. And yet I seem to constantly make hard and fast rules for myself. But never with food or wine; the ones that usually end up on a lot of people's resolution list. I did do that cleanseonce...

But this year is a little different. Between the move, the pregnancy, the having of the baby, and the life of one who has a baby, I have not exercised much at all. I bought a bike a few days before I found out I was pregnant and I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've ridden it in over a year. And now it's Winter again. And though I eat well – fresh, local, organic - I haven't practiced a lot of control with portions and cravings. I've craved a lot of red meat. I've craved a lot of cake.

Oh, and in the middle of all of this I turned forty.

So in this new year I am resolved to reclaim control of my body as much as I can while still nursing and caring pretty much full time for a six-month old *teething* baby. My dad set Fred, Emerson and I up with a family membership at a gym (with salt water pools and daycare!), and Fred and I are changing our diet for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. We're doing a type of a cleanse, but it doesn't really have any hard and fast rules. My cup of coffee, fine. A glass or two of wine, that's okay. And we eat three squares a day, with an afternoon snack. It's just all very healthy and balanced. With portion control.

BUT. Over the holiday I went a little cookie-making crazy (just take a look at my Instagram feed). I kept trying to make the perfect shortbread Christmas cookies. I never quite got them right. And I don't like not getting something right. I'm very competitive with myself. So I had to get them right. Even with all my resolutions. Those damn hard and fast rules I keep making for myself.

On day two of the cleanse, of course, I saw the recipe that seemed perfect. It was very simple, had what looked like just the right amount of butter (considerably more than two parts to the one part sugar) and added a great little twist of dipping the cookies halfway into tempered chocolate. So yesterday, after our breakfast of Steel-Cut Oats with Cacao Nibs and Figs, while Fred (who has a flu-like situation going on) and Emerson (again, teething) grabbed a mid-morning nap, I put on my apron and some Ahmad Jamal and got to it. It felt good. To be alone, in relative quiet, no one needinganything from me at all. With the house beginning to smell buttery and snuggly I had a horrible realization: I CAN'T EAT THE COOKIES. Well, I really shouldn't eat the cookies. I mean, I needed to save my appetite for my exciting lunch of Watercress Salad with Snapper and Kimchi and the possibility of some apple and almond butter later.

I ate exactly two. 

And they were indeed perfect.

As luck would have it, Paz had a Downton Abbey party to attend this evening and nothing to take (let's not try to think too hard about that sentence). The recipe made about fifty of the little domino-sized cookies. Shortbread is super British and great with tea. That just seems so, so, very Downton Abbey, right?

And like a whisper in the wind, all of my beautiful, delicious, perfect shortbread cookies disappeared into the night. Never to ruin my resolutions, and probably killing it at Paz's dumb party. And best of all, I simultaneously broke and kept a hard and fast rule.

Now, I must run off to enjoy my dinner of Brussels Sprouts and Tofu Stir Fry over Aromatic Red Rice and call back Parker, my trainer, to set up my first session.

Chocolate-Dipped Shortbread

Recipe from Epicurious, December 2005

Developed by Tracey Seaman

With its cloak of pure chocolate, this buttery cookie is sublime. For the best flavor, use a high-quality pure vanilla extract and the best chocolate you can find — preferably Valrhona. Melting the chocolate in two stages helps keep it at an even temperature — insuring that it will set evenly.

Makes about 3 dozen cookies

Ingredients

2 sticks (1/2 pound) unsalted butter, at room temperature

     2/3 cup sugar

     2 teaspoons vanilla extract

     1/2 teaspoon salt

     2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

     8 ounces high-quality semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

Directions

Arrange racks in upper and lower thirds of oven and preheat to 325°F. Line 2 large cookie sheets with parchment paper.

In electric mixer, beat butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt at medium speed just until smooth. Add flour and mix at low speed until combined. Divide dough in half and shape into 2 disks.

On lightly floured work surface, roll out 1 piece dough to 1/4-inch-thick rectangle. Using fluted pastry wheel or large knife, cut into 2- by 1-inch rectangles. Transfer cookies to baking sheets, spacing 1 1/2 inches apart. Repeat with remaining dough.

Prick each cookie several times with tines of fork, then chill 10 minutes. Bake until edges are golden, about 15 minutes. Cool on pans 5 minutes, then transfer to racks and cool completely.

To decorate: Line baking sheet with clean parchment or wax paper. In medium heatproof bowl set over saucepan of simmering water, melt half chocolate. Add remaining chocolate, remove bowl from heat, and stir occasionally until smooth. Pour into small bowl.

Dip each cookie halfway into chocolate, let excess drip off, and place on baking sheet. Let stand until chocolate is set, about 1 hour. Store in airtight container at room temperature. (Do not refrigerate.)

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Butter Croissants

Two years ago: Buttermilk Vichyssoise with Fennel

Three years ago: Cheebo

Four years ago: Vinegar-Braised Chicken with Garlic & Clery Leaves

Five years ago: Carrot Soup with Ginger & Cumin

Seven years ago: Mozza & Dominick's

Reading, Tweeting & Eating

I was smack in the middle of a really fun book: Blood, Bones & Butter, by Gabrielle Hamilton. She is the chef/owner of Prune in New York and it is her memoir. While, unfortunately, I have not yet dined at Prune, I was having a blast eating up her words. And, lamentably, it’s been too long since I’ve really delved hungrily into a good book.

Last Monday evening Maggie and I were sitting in the living room, happily plotting our lazy night in with the pups and our jammies as we were plum tuckered out from a slightly, ahem, indulgent weekend. This conversation was happening through me reading my book and Maggie compulsively Tweeting on her iPhone. It was about 7:30-ish, I’d say.

Then suddenly Maggie nonchalantly asks me to remind her of the name of the book I’m reading. “Blood, Bones & Butter”, I tell her. To which she replied, “So I guess you know about this thing at Lucques tonight?” 

What?

Turns out Suzanne Goin was hosting a dinner in honor of Hamilton’s book with a four-course prix fixe menu, with a copy of the book for $95. Oh yeah, and Gabrielle Hamilton was going to be in the house, dining, drinking, mingling and signing copies for the guests.

Er…

Well and so – after a panicked phone call, a string or two pulled (thanks Matt!), and the two of us paint-over-rust-style getting ready, Maggie and I managed to get to Lucques by 8:15pm for our two saved seats at the bar on that sold-out night.

The restaurant was as full as I had seen it since their annual rib roundup and the menu was simply beautiful. I couldn’t help but notice all of the dishes were not only seasonal (of course), but were all dishes and/or ingredients that had prominence in the book. They were even roasting lambs and potatoes on a spit on the dining patio.

Suzanne Goin and Lamby

Beauty.

We took a few moments to enjoy our wonderful house-made bread and fresh butter, Lucques olives, roasty, oily almonds and coarse salt and our glasses of 2009 Nikolaihof, Gruner Vetliner from Hefeabzug, Austria (selected by Caroline Styne) before our first course arrived. I needed to soak it all in for a moment. I mean, Hell, a mere forty-five minutes ago I was in my jammies in the big, brown chair, curled up with my book. Now I’m sitting in my dearest restaurant (still clutching my book) about to eat gorgeous food in the same room with the author of my book and the chef of my chosen food.

It’s true. I haven’t written much about Suzanne’s restaurants over the years, though I eat at them all regularly and mention her often (just put her name in the search engine of this blog and see). But it’s certainly no secret that she’s kind of my culinary hero.

So let us begin with the Asparagus vinaigrette with Dijon mustard, eggs mimosa and American proscuitto. This dish was served somewhere between room temperature and ever so slightly chilled. The asparagus was perfectly and delicately blanched with a succinct, little snap. The dish was fresh and light and was perfect in waking up the palate, getting it all prepped for what was to come.

And what was to come was the Roast Windrose Farms’ lamb with potatoes from the coals and a salad of English peas, pea shoots, Meyer lemon and chanterelles. Seeing both of these dishes transported me immediately back into the book. The first chapter of the book was all about the ornate lamb roasts Hamilton’s family hosted in her childhood. She described the process with such love and nostalgia that I could almost smell the lamb and feel the chill of the cold water in the stream behind the house while grabbing a cold drink from it’s bed. The pea salad took me instantly to her story of hiding on the floor of her childhood butcher shop having absconded with a handful of the fresh peas the butcher and his family grew – Gabrielle eating them raw, right then and there.

And Suzanne did it all a beautiful and savory justice.

The lamb and potatoes were simply without equal. Faultless.  Suzanne accomplished the perfect, simple – and seminal - potatoes Gabrielle spoke of that changed her world in Greece. The salad, which was reportedly the crowd’s favorite, was also Maggie’s preferred dish as well. And it was sublime. It was refreshing, vibrant, and in contrast to the soft and almost sultry lamb, crisp and bright. The chanterelles added that bit of Earthiness and the Meyer lemon provided the perfect touch of sweet citrus to round it all out.

We paired the lamb, et al with the 2005 Domaine Gallety, Cote du Vivarais from France (also Styne’s pick). We both loved this choice.The wine was big and confident without dominating the food.

And finally we were served the Cornmeal shortcakes with strawberries, mint and crème fråiche. I don’t recall this dish from Blood, Bones & Butter but from Sunday Suppers at Lucques served instead with peaches. Interestingly enough my mom served this dish at our first Dinner at Eight. And it was amazing. Suzanne’s cornmeal shortcakes are heavenly. I, obviously, would have liked to have seen considerably less strawberry goo. With this we opted for a glass of the rosé champagne.

What a night. I was able to say hi to Suzanne, get a hug in, met and briefly chatted with Gabrielle and a few of her friends. I ate the food I was reading. I ate the food I love. I got my book signed by the author.  All in my favorite restaurant. Yes. It’s true.

I finished the book just last night. A week after the dinner. Suzanne’s food lingers on my palate and Gabrielle’s words linger on my mind.

I feel happy. 

                      

With My Feet In the Air and My Head On the Ground.

This all began last night, the Saturday before Halloween. Basically, the night the city is celebrating. At least the grown-ups do. Except me. I made a big, beautiful chili (yes, chili can be beautiful), opened a lovely bottle of Zinfandel, built a fire, and watched What Ever Happened to Baby Jane. Sure, all my friends were dressed to the nines and out partying. My night was wonderful - just the way I like to celebrate.

It’s not that I’m a Halloween party pooper. Obviously I loved it as a kid. I would get dressed up, go Trick-or-Treating, eat too much candy - all that good stuff. I remember there were quite a few years, while my mom would help me get into my costume, the doorbell would ring suddenly; a little too early for the onslaught of Trick-or-Treaters. I knew who it was. I would race to the front door, swing it open wildly, to find The Secret Pumpkin: a beautifully illuminated and carved pumpkin, facing towards the door, looking squarely at me. Turns out my dad was behind the whole happening. The same man, mind you, who now celebrates Halloween by buying a bag of Snickers bars, turning out his lights, and sipping wine (or rum), while watching movies and eating said Snickers bars while costumed kids ring his doorbell to no avail.

These days I don’t have much of a sweet tooth and hardly eat any candy. I haven’t dressed up in a costume in well over a decade. I don’t really get many any Trick-or-Treaters up in the hills (I imagine the walking would be tough on the little buggers). I love scary movies, though. Love them. In fact, Halloween is one of my all-time favorites. I’ve even been on the Dearly Departed Tour here in Los Angeles and am obsessed with Find-A-Death. So, I guess it’s kind of a mystery - me and my ambivalence towards Halloween.

And so tonight is the night: All Hallows Eve. Yes, Halloween is upon us, and I find myself in my cozies, listening to Tortoise, with the TV on the Cooking Channel (muted) with a head full of thoughts of food and cooking. I spent the early part of the day at the Farmers’ Market and then the swap meet. I bought my usual whole chicken at the former and six vintage cookbooks at the latter. My mom gave me a clay pot last year for Christmas that I have yet to use. So I figured I’d find some way to dig up an old recipe, like Coq Au Vin, and reinvent it using the clay pot. Then I realized I had to soak the pot in water overnight prior to using it for the first time. I also realized that the chicken needed to “marinate” in its herbs and whatnot overnight as well.

So I uncorked a bottle of Bordeaux and heated up the chili from the night before.

But I was restless. I really wanted to play around in the kitchen. So I dug around in the cupboards to find something to inspire me. I also wanted to find something that had been around for a while to exorcize my kitchen of.

Pecans.

I didn’t have enough to do any major pecanification and I had already conceded to chili again for dinner. So I rifled through the sweets-ish section of one of my new-old cookbooks and bumped into a pretty – and fairly simple – recipe for pecan shortbread. Now, I know I said I don’t have a sweet tooth… but hells bells, I do so love some buttery, rich, decadent shortbread.

And so, without even meaning to, I feel like I sort of did something Halloweeny. Upon this realization, I decided to submit. In the final stretch of making my shortbread I switched the music to Goblin. And while I ate my shortbread I turned on Halloween.

Pecan Shortbread

Makes 4 to 6 Bars

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature, plus more for pan

1/4 cup packed dark-brown sugar

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour, sifted

1/2 cup finely ground pecans (2 ounces)

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 300 degrees with a rack in the center. Butter a 5 x 9-inch loaf pan.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and both sugars until light and fluffy, about three minutes.

Add the flour, pecans, salt and vanilla; beat on low speed for five minutes.

Transfer the dough to the prepared pan, and spread evenly. Score the dough into bars, and prick the surface decoratively with a fork.

Bake until the shortbread looks dry, about an hour. Transfer the pan to a wire rack to cool. Turn the shortbread out of the pan, and cut along the scored lines.