Coconut Butter Thins and an Extremely Hot Vampire. And f'ing karaoke.

I mentioned that I was in Brooklyn over the weekend for my friend's birthday. We had a great time, and truth be told, I read it. There's really not a whole lot more to this post, besides my unabashed love for Mormon vampire romance. But there was baking involved, so let's talk about that.

As I said, I got into town late Friday night to a New Moon-stricken Susan. And on Saturday, basically all she could talk about was how much she loved Edward Cullen, how she could spend the entire day all curled up with the book, and how she had much better friends than I who actually appreciated and even encouraged this new habit of hers. For her birthday, they gave her books two and three.

So I did it. I sat down and started reading it. And Internet, I was immediately bitten.

We spent most of Saturday sitting on the couch reading. And I loved every minute of it.

Because I was so busy reading about Mormon vampire romances, I forgot about the second batch of cookies I put in the oven. But let me tell you something: these cookies taste ridiculously good even when they're extra crispy. On the one hand, you have luxurious shortbread tinted with lime (lime!) and golden macadamia nuts. On the other hand, you have buttery shortbread crackers with toasted coconut. You can't go wrong. I twittered Dorie (AND SHE RESPONDED!) that her face really needs to be painted on the Sistine Chapel. Instead of God's hand reaching down to touch Adam, there needs to be Dorie Greenspan standing there, holding a plate of Coconut Butter thins. And God wants a coconut butter thin...bad. But needless to say, they are perfect when you want to curl up with a good book. Like Twilight.


I didn't finish the book that afternoon, mainly because we decided we really should eat something, so we went to dinner in the East Village with some of her friends. Susan's cake was actually baked by Alexis Stewart, and after she told me that I was all AW HELLS NO I'M NOT BAKING YOU A CAKE IF YOU'VE ALREADY EATEN ONE MADE BY MARTHA STEWART'S DAUGHTER. So I got out of that diaper duty, you know? But while we were at dinner, some of her friends mentioned that there was karaoke going on a few blocks away with other friends, and we should go over.



Ugggggggghhhhhhhhh.........

I know many of you love karaoke, and then some of you have never done karaoke. So listen, I'm going to sum this up as the experience of a person who hates karaoke, so all you who love it can at the very least understand why we would rather eat glass, wrestle gators, discuss the redemptive qualities of Jesus Christ with Donny Osmond, or get our hair stuck in a box fan than sing karaoke. I know better than to tell a bunch of karaoke-lovers that I hate karaoke and not expect to be ostracized. I might as well walk outside wearing a sandwich board that reads: ASK ME ABOUT MY FREEZER FULL OF HUMAN BODY PARTS.


First of all, it's the room. If you ever said to someone "Let's go hang out in a really small room with a bunch of strangers with superior qualities than you" and had them jump at the chance, then you send me an email and tell me I'm nutso. And the room is the least of your worries. Because then you have bad, bad music to sing to along to. The best you can hope for is that they'll have "Sister Christian" on the books, otherwise you're going to be stuck with some early Journey and the Pointer Sisters. Ask anyone under the age of 25 about the Pointer Sisters, and I'll bet they say it's the band Tina Turner was in before she met Ike. Just ask.

In my case, we had three professional singers, and professional not in the sense that they could just sing, but that they could sing in bands, in front of people. And when they sang karaoke, they sounded exactly like the guy from the B-52s, exactly like Celine Dion, exactly like Elvis, and exactly like Gwen Stefani. Dude, imitating Gwen is hard. I have spent countless mornings in my shower trying to imitate Gwen, and it is f'ing HARD. I sound more like diseased hyena in excruciating pain. And if you don't believe me, ask my roommate, because that's exactly what she called me yesterday. A diseased hyena. In excruciating pain.

Ok. I made it through. But it turns out Susan loves loves loves karaoke. I mean, trying to get the mic out of her hand was not unlike trying to take a meaty bone out of the jaws of a grizzly bear. She was territorial, and my only job that night was to keep the En Vogue coming!

We got home at 3:45 am.

IT WAS TIME TO FINISH TWILIGHT!!!!!

I'm tired today. Honestly, I am. But I'm starting a book club of people who read the books in less than 24 hours - not a club for bragging, but a club for support. Because now, Internet, I need a hug. I stayed up all night long reading. I finally slept on the bus ride home, when I was next to a woman I'm sure was hooked on methodone and I swallowed my gum during a gigantic snore. At work, I was less than exemplary. Meaning: I fell asleep at my desk. I doodled "Duffy Cullen" on a manuscript. I told my assistant that the mole on my neck was actually a Mormon vampire love bite. I told her she smelled ridiculously delicious.


I love New York. AND SHIRTLESS ROBERT PATTINSON!!!!!

Springtime in Brooklyn

Good Morning! I have taken the Lonely Sidecar on the road this weekend, going all the way down to Brooklyn, New York, for some R&R with the BFF. Susan's birthday is this weekend, so we're running around Brooklyn, doing some shopping, drinking some coffees, and just doing the things one does when one is fabulous.

Ok, so that is the PLAN. However, when I got in last night, I found Susan in a state of strangeness. Honestly, she looked distracted, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was just really tired. I thought maybe a boy was to blame, or a few too many pre-Duffy cocktails. But we said goodnight and she went to bed.

But her light stayed on. Until really, really late.

So this morning, while she was in the shower, I snuck upstairs to see what was going on.

AND VIEW YOU THE CULPRIT, INTERNET.


Yes, another adult has fallen victim to The Twilight Series.

I'm hoping we get out of the apartment at some point today. So far, it's not looking good.

Every time I'm here, I try to make Susan something to eat. Generally it's something sweet, because she is so incredibly thin and the inner grandma in me comes out and starts saying things like "You need to put some meat on your bones, sweetie!" when inwardly I'm wondering what the hell it is she does to maintain the perfect shape while never seeing the inside of a gym. She doesn't even own tennis shoes, I'm pretty sure.

So I decided to check out her fridge, as a glimpse of the inner sanctuary of a Thin Girl.


Let's break this down. Your initial impression may be that Susan does not eat anything. The only real edible "food" in the fridge is a package of older celery, last night's leftovers, and a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery. However, that is the pessimist's view.

Susan's choice of beverages is revelatory. The cranberry juice provides her with much-needed antioxidants for her power mornings. And speaking of power mornings, there's a protein shaking hiding in here, which she informs me she means to drink, but is deathly afraid of drinking. There is also a Bloody Mary mix that goes well with the contents of the freezer, but more on that in a minute.


Regarding her cupcakes, you can see that Susan is a much-loved person because her friends were thoughtful enough to take her out to the Magnolia Bakery for her birthday. Now I know, you can debate this left and right: who has the best cupcakes in New York...have at it. But I love Magnolia Cupcakes and everything they stand for, from the fact that Amy Sedaris once worked there, to the World's Best Banana Pudding. Just looking at this box makes me all happy inside.


Ok, now to the elephant in the room. The empty 6-pack of beer. I actually asked Susan about this, because the psychological insight I could attempt to draw from my armchair are just so massively extensive. And when asked about it, all Susan did was run to the fridge, look at it, and then shout: OH THAT ASS...THAT JACK...I CAN'T BELIEVE HE DRANK ALL...WHAT A SON OF A....dammit!

At that point, she rushed back to her chair and curled up again with her book. Apparently there's a man involved, but that's really all I could get from the story. Honestly, ever since starting New Moon, she hasn't spoken in a single complete sentence.


So let's move on to the freezer, shall we? We have some TJ's cheesecake bites, assorted alcohols, a bar of white chocolate, and some frozen peas. Honestly, of everything, the peas are what make me scratch my head the most. However, let it be known that I think that every single woman in the world should have a bottle of Jagermeister chilling in her freezer. Nothing says LIVING ON THE EDGE better than a good old Jagerbomb.

There's a silver bowl to the left there, and I have to say, I've seen this before. It's been here for a while. Let's just look and see what's in it...


My guesses are:
1. Frozen sunny-side up egg
2. Leftover sorbet
3. Facial peel

So I'm going to try to drag Susan away from her book for some Brooklyn Fun. I hope everyone has a great weekend, despite the torrential downpour that seems to be hitting everyone. BUILD YOUR ARK NOW, PEOPLE. Dixie and I aren't the strongest swimmers!

Rehab: The Bartender Song

Over Thanksgiving, I heard this song on the radio that had me screaming in laughter. Part of it was because I was driving through rural Maine, past "The Wake'n Bacon Grill: Pancakes and Glassware" and countless yards that just seemed to collect cars from the early 90s. It just sounded like the kind of thing you'd expect to hear on the radio in rural Maine.

It took me four months, but I found the song. And as it's Friday, I like to bring you videos to help start your weekend on the right foot. Or the wrong foot. But just remember to step away.

Rehab - Bartender Song

TWD: Blueberry Crumb Cake

In moving into the new apartment, Dixie and I moved in with a one-year old Portuguese Water Dog. Sometimes they're mistaken for Labradoodles, often they're mistaken for THE DEVIL OF THE FIFTH RING OF HELL, THE SHOE EATER NAMED NEMISTOCLES WHOSE DESPAIR OVER LOSING HIS TESTICLES MAKES HIM WHIMPER LOUDLY FOR ALL ETERNITY AND EAT MY ITALIAN HEELS.

He's pretty cute when he's not accidentally spraying me in a stream of dog pee.

Dixie is handling this transition quite well. Dixie is, to put it nicest, an alpha female. She doesn't really like toys (she'd prefer a nice pinot grigio and a Six Feet Under marathon), but if there is a toy anywhere near her and you think you're going to play with it, she'll find a shenk saved from her time inside, cut you, hit you repeatedly in the face with your own hand, and then tear up the toy right in your face. Don't think you're going to get away with playing around her.


Seriously.

Although I am not a toy, I am valuable property to Dixie right about now. Which don't get me wrong, I love. Tell me it's not a great feeling to come home after a long day of work and put your feet up only to have a 40-lb mutt curl up right underneath your feet. It's awesome. Then, enter Brady, the loveable puppy who wants to cuddle, too. Dixie has this way of doing what I'll call The Warning Bark that will take you from comfy couch time with a cup of coffee and the crossword to HOLY SHIT DIXIE JEEZIE CREEZIE DON'T DO THAT LOOK AT ME DON'T YOU HOW THE HELL DO I GET COFFEE OFF THE CEILING? in about a sixth of a second.

It's honestly not even a bark. It's like half a bark, but even as a human I can understand it to mean "Get the F away from me or else I will feed your tail to you" whenever he comes in the room.


So Monday night I got home after a ridiculously long day of work to do some baking. I've had some massive projects lately, so I've been staying late, working at home, doing everything I can to meet my deadlines. I'm not very good at meeting deadlines, but my production manager is very good at giving me stearn lectures about responsibility and obligation and the subtle idea that I may be personally killing our printer. But whatev.


So I started baking, thinking about all the things I was going to do differently. I decided against the crumb just to save myself the butter, but I still wanted a good "crust" on the cake. I went with dark brown sugar, envisioning a velvety brown batter that would yield a crunchy-on-the-outside-chewy-on-the-inside cake. The dogs were in the living room playing with what was once a stuffed cow and is now a pink piece of plastic attached to the fabric that once made up the nose. They seemed happy.

But then someone must have told Dixie about blueberries, because all of a sudden she became a blueberry fiend. Blueberries are better than rawhide and belly rubs. Blueberries are the most delicious things in the entire universe, and Mommy has blueberries RIGHT THERE. Protect them with your life.


I didn't get any pictures of it, but honestly, Dixie set up a blockade to the kitchen. She taped black garbage bags to the windows, found her stash of guns in the basement and screamed "DO YOU REALLY WANT TO PUSH ME? PUSH ME! GO AHEAD AND PUSH ME BECAUSE I AM CRAAAAAAAAAAZY!!!!!!!!!" at poor Brady.


The end result was that both dogs got to lick the spoon, and then Dixie took the spoon out of my hand and bludgeoned Brady with it for five minutes. They call it Puppy Love for a reason, I think, because all Brady wants to do is get more from Dixie, and if she's too tired, just let him sniff her butt for a while. He follows her around and you can just see him asking her "Are you PMS-ing super hard today? Really? Is that why you look fat?"

I love the cake. I wanted something less crumbly and more coffee cakey, so as I said I skipped the crumbs and instead topped it with a little honey for my breakfast this morning. Excellent choice, I'll be making this again, and making more and more substitutions. The whole house smelled delicious. I would, however, never use frozen blueberries again. They lacked the flavor I think the cake really needed.

Check out the other bakers to see how it's supposed to be done!

Bikini Meal #1

I hate dieting. I honestly do. I think I would prefer to eat shards of glass than go on any grapefruit-only, rice cake-noshing, no carbs diet. Parsley is a garnish, not a meal.

However, it's mid-March. And that means that within a month and a half, we're going to be in our bathing suits. The nights of eating beef stew and lasagne are numbered. With the community pool right down the street, my roommate and I know this all too well. Tick tock, tick tock.

So there is a fine line that needs to be stepped in preparing for the coming summer months. If you're like me and a) you love to eat and b) you hate to diet, you want to keep feeding yourself real food while simultaneously watching the caloric intake. Most "diets" keep you at about 1200 calories per day, and if you live a regular life with running to and from work, chasing children, or even, egad, working out, that's far, far too low. So I've started "fooling" myself a little, finding ways to get the stuff I really want (salt, meat, carbs) without eating crap (salt, meat, carbs).

This dish is perfect in that regard. Fresh tuna from the North End fishmonger, a light salad of arugula and shaved pecorino, and a delicious stirfry of onions, red peppers, and zucchini. The long strips of zucchini will give you the impression of pasta, while the soy sauce and wasabi marinade on the tuna will give you the salty kick you need.

Tuna cooks ridiculously fast. Keep it on for no more than two minutes per side, otherwise you'll be stuck with something dry and pastey.

Bikini Prep Tuna Dinner

2 Tuna Steaks
1 1/2C soy sauce
1T powdered wasabi (or to taste, depending on your comfort level with hot sauce)

Marinade tuna for at least an hour. You're going to side-step covering your tuna in water-retaining salt by doing this. If you are serving this with a stir fry, get the vegetables going ahead of time. You can substitute vegetable broth for olive oil if you really want to watch your calories, and throw in some red pepper flakes for extra kick.

For the salad, my tip is to go very easy on the olive oil Dressing recipes always call for way too much olive oil in my opinion. For a tarter, more refreshing dressing, go easy on the oil and add in some dijon mustard, brown sugar, and lemon juice.

Healthy Option Eggplant Stacks

I'm very sorry, but I am going to rub this in your face. From my new apartment, I am only one block away from a whole grocery store stocked with San Marizano tomatoes, real Italian olive oil, and get this: the $7 bottle of Montepulciano. I'm this close to Eden simply because I moved into Boston's North End, right around the corner from Paul Revere's house and the real Italian deal. It doesn't hurt that the weather is improving, and so Jon and I have been wandering around the North End, exploring little cafes just big enough for two tables and a plate of bolognaise, markets that cure their own proscuitto and will let you sample all the sopressata you like, dog parks that happen under statues of our nation's founding militia members. It's pretty awesome.

So I had actually checked out Spork and Foon's website and caught her idea of the deconstructed eggplant parmesan. And I thought about that for a few days, letting the idea simmer around a little. Jon makes a great eggplant parmesan, but I wanted to make an eggplant parmesan that was a lighter option, and packed with things I really need in my diet: vegetables, anti oxidants, red wine. So instead of parmesan cheese, I went with a gorgeous pecorino with black peppercorns that we bought at our favorite market. I shaved that on top, a process that allows you to go from the "spoon and dump" version with parmesan to "Wow, that actually is only 1T of cheese" method. I recommend you cut off a piece of cheese the size of a quarter, then shave that on top. Pecorino is just as pungent as parmesan, and it melts even better.

I made a very simple tomato sauce on the stovetop using fresh herbs and 2T of red wine. Those tomatoes, wow. I now know what Martha's been talking about all these years. There's nothing too revelatory about this dish, but I guarantee you that if you try it, you'll love it. It doesn't really take the place of Grandma's eggplant parmesan, but when you can fit in your skinny jeans the next morning, you'll email me.


Healthy Eggplant Mozzarella Stacks

1 large eggplant
1/4lb fresh mozzarella
2T olive oil
Rock salt to taste
1T pecorino cheese
Tomato sauce of your choice
1 Spaghetti Squash

To begin, roast the spaghetti squash in an oven at 450 degrees for 30 minutes. Slice eggplant into thicker slices, about 3/4 inch, and brush with olive oil. Sprinkle with rock salt and put in the oven after squash has been roasting for 20 minutes. Roast until soft to the touch.

Pull out the eggplant and make stacks using 3 slices of eggplant and two slices of fresh mozzarella cheese. Remove the spaghetti squash from the oven, but stick the eggplant back in. Scrape the spaghetti squash with a fork until you have the desired amount of squash to plate. Pull out the eggplant, the cheese should have melted all buttery, giving you a moment to remember the best slice of pizza you've ever had in your life.

Plate the eggplant on top of the squash and top with tomato sauce of your choosing, and perhaps a bit more rock salt. Shave pecorino cheese on top and enjoy.

TWD: French Yogurt Lemon Cake

On Sunday night, I had a very interesting dream that involved the actor Aaron Eckhart.


Hi, Aaron Eckhart. Nice to see you again.

You may remember Aaron Eckhart from the latest Batman movie, although unfortunately Heath Ledger kind of stole that entire movie out from under the feet of any of the other actors. Aaron Eckhart was also in Erin Brocovich, although Julia Roberts' cleavage stole that show, I think we can all say. He was also in the movie Paycheck, starring Uma Thurman and Ben Affleck, and I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I actually saw that in the theatres. Aaron Eckhart basically carried that movie, you can imagine.


In my dream, I was at this huge party with hundreds of people. And Aaron Eckhart was there! Can you believe that? We know some of the same people! I was like, whoa, I should just go up and introduce myself to Aaron Eckhart! So I went up and said to him, "Hi Aaron, I'm MacDuff. I loved your last movie!!!" And Old Aaron was all thankful, and said to me, "Which movie was that?" And at that point, I couldn't remember. The funny one? Where you were, like, you know, a funny character? A comedian?

It kind of annoys me that Dream Duffy is not quite as sharp as Reality Duffy. She can, in her defense, fly. So I guess she should just focus on her positives.

Later in the dream, the party decided to play a huge game of wiffle ball. And Dream Duffy was all, AWESOME!!! WIFFLE BALL!!! MY CHANCE TO GET AARON ECKHART'S ATTENTION WITH MY MAD WIFFLE BALL SKILLS!!!!!

I have never played wiffle ball in my life. I honestly don't even really know what a wiffle is. Is it like a pawn?

So herein the dilemma lay. Dream Duffy was now faced with the problem of whether she could get Dream Aaron Eckhart's attention better if she were on the same team or the opposing team. Should she focus on sitting next to him in the dugout and having a deep conversation about their families? Or should she have the wiffle ball game-winning play and get his attention for being such an awesome athlete? Would getting the game-winning play in wiffle ball be difficult? Is there any way I could do it while looking totally fabulous, with un-frizzy hair and great legs? Would Aaron Eckhart notice me and then say "Hey, who's that totally fabulous girl with the great hair and legs making the game-winning play? I've always wanted to marry a wiffle ball champion. Find out her telephone number and give it to me so I can fly away with her and have really deep conversations about stuff. Maybe see 'Dirty Dancing: The Musical,' if it's still playing in Boston."

Probably not. I decided to give up and dream about being late for a math test I hadn't studied for.


So all of this taught me a couple of really awesome things. First of all, Dream Aaron Eckhart is as nice in dreams as people say he is. Really down to earth. And second, dreaming about Aaron Eckhart is GREAT for the rest of your day. Seriously. I was a production machine, and I felt great about myself and my budding relationship with Dream Aaron Eckhart. I got in a good workout, had a productive day at work, and at night, I was READY to make some French Yogurt Cake.

Well, not really. See, I didn't have two necessary ingredients: yogurt or lemon. So I compensated and made this cake using sour cream and orange rind, which I actually prefer to lemon half the time. And I went the Rivera route, throwing in some rosemary and olive oil.

Oh.My.God. Hello, just let me be in love with something savory for a moment, ok? Because it had the lovelies crust to it, and the texture was made so much more enjoyable due to the almonds? It's something that will work as a coffee cake and an after-lunch pick me up. The orange marmalade glaze gave it just the little bit of sweetness it needed. I am bookmarking this to make again at Christmastime, with a little crushed ginger in the batter, along with maybe some coriander or clove.

But it is St. Patrick's Day. And I know most of you are already drunk on green beer, so I'll celebrate with you and show you some Irish Car Bomb Cupcakes that I made to celebrate the day St. Patrick led all those rats out of town and saved Joan of Arc from being burned at the stake. The cupcakes have a cup of Guinness in them, along with a Bailey's Cream frosting. They're the f'ing whip, as we say around LSHQ.

Hello, cupcake!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone!

Skate Wing with Roasted Vegetables

For Mother's Day two years ago, my brother, mom and I went to Gertrude's, an adorable and wonderful restaurant in the Baltimore Museum of Art. The reservation was hard to come by, due partially to the holiday, but mainly due to John Shields' work as Executive Chef. The menu reflects the best of Maryland cuisine, without going overboard on the Old Bay, as most Maryland-style restaurants generally do. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love Old Bay, and put it in all sorts of things: chili, tuna salad, even pizza. But if you hang out in some of the more local Baltimore hot spots late at night, you have a good chance of seeing someone do a shot of Old Bay. That's all I'm saying. I'm sure you could find someone who will admit to snorting it once.



ANYWAYS...I remember the dinner distinctly because my mom ordered the rockfish. It was in season, and there's a big push on the Chesapeake to eat in-season fish to help support local fisheries. And it turned out to be the big hit of the night, and if you ever meet my mom and ask her to recreate the meal, she'll have a diagram, power point presentation, even one of those gastronomic eye droppers of some fish essence to give you the full picture.


And I ordered the special that night - something I NEVER do. Look, I spent two summers running around an oyster bar. Take it from me: don't order the seafood special. Ever. It's "special" because it's about to go bad, and this is probably the last day the cook has to put it on a plate before someone complains about the smell. However, John Shields is not that kind of chef, and his special was a skate wing, something I had never had before in my life. And since I was one pinot into the evening, I was feeling adventurous.

It was one of the best meals of my life, and I've ordered it every time I could since then (only once). But the last time my friend Susan was in town, we were in the local market and I saw that they had skate wing. This prompted SEVERAL text messages to Jon, all overly excited, all ending with exclamation points: SKATE!!!!! WING!!!!!!! The clock was ticking, it was only a matter of time before we were searching the internet for a decent recipe. When this didn't turn up easily, we took matters into our hands and decided to test unchartered waters.


Skate wing is much like a ray, and have a rhomboidal (a word I'm picking up from Wikipedia) body shape to them. They're bottom dwellers, and apparently have a tough, thorny skin. The flavor of the fish could be confused with a scallop. If you have someone in your family who doesn't like fish because "it's too fishy," first slap them, then make them some skate wing. The texture is that of chicken, and it works best to dredge it in some flour before cooking. And yes, you can undercook skate wing. Feel free to keep that baby on there for a few minutes.


We took a play from the Spanish restaurant I work at and rubbed some olive oil and rosemary on the grill pan before putting the fish on it. This gives you the sublest of flavors but makes your kitchen smell like a dream. I hardly flavored the flour - since the skate has such a distinct flavor, you don't want to go overboard with the spices (or Old Bay). A little goes a long way.


We paired this with some vegetables braised in a bit of balsamic vinegar and Canadian bacon, and then roasted. His shallots carmelized and sweetened up while the leeks drank up all the tartness of the vinegar and garlic. We piled the skate on top of thinly peeled strips of zucchini and yellow squash, mimicking linguini but taking on a juicier role and healthier plate. It's the perfect almost-exotic meal for a late dinner on a Friday night, when you have the time to get around to the fish monger and the Spanish wine shop.

Really, who needs a Snuggie?

For full ordering info, visit here.