"Rendezvous at Williams Junction"

Ten-thirty at night and already an hour behind schedule. All outside the car was inky black, save for a few punctuations from passing streetlights. A frantic, steady click-clack from underneath as the train strived to make up time. As I scrunched up in my seat trying to rest and stave off panic, there came a soft knock at our cabin door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Buck? Will you need help with your luggage?"

"Erm, no, we should manage," my husband replied.

"We should arrive at the junction in about ten minutes. Gather your things and meet down by the entrance door."

Most peculiar.

Was this a sort of secret stop, unknown to the other passengers? No announcement made. No public preparations demonstrated.

We gathered our things, as directed, and found ourselves in the fluorescent-lit common way, fumes from the locomotive swirling about as we wondered if we were obeying a dream.

Slowly the train came to a stop, and we were ushered onto the ground. An unmarked white van awaited, highlighted by a single pole light, eerily blue in the midst of a gravel field. We stumbled forward, weary and exhausted from the previous days' travel.

We did not trust the situation.

Here in the middle of no where, in what we could only presume was Arizona, delivered to an unknown person…

More travelers emerged from other cars, bolstering our confidence for a bit. So we boarded the van, which seemed at least to be in manageable mechanical condition. Though it was dark - very dark - inside.

"Welcome to Williams Junction!" said the jolly man behind the wheel. He might have been Santa's more sinister cousin. "That there's our only train stop - we used to have a depot, but it burned down."

We drove down roads in ill repair, bordered by forests so dark and thick that only the nearest trunks stood out in white silhouettes against the overwhelming blackness. There was nervous laughter amongst the passengers. And jokes concerning The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Which didn't help.

"There's our Bear amusement park," our driver announced as he turned a corner, "They're planning on getting a couple o' grizzlies here soon, and they have some browns and blacks already… And this here's ol' Route Sixty-Six."

And, as disconcerting as the rest of the trip and narrative had been, I was immediately struck with a sense of wonder. Forget the ominous conditions and the amusement park centered around live bears for some reason - we were traveling down Route 66. I looked to the sides of the road - the two-lane road that was much too narrow for today's cars, pock-marked by today's heavy loads and neglect - and I saw diners and old gas stations and pool halls tiny enough to fit into our coat closet at home.

I blame the resulting tears on lack of sleep.

Then the van made another turn and we were in front of a warmly lit lodge, in which awaited modern conveniences and the most comfortable beds on the planet. We curled up, safe at last, and fell dead asleep.

A Very Matt & Mia Christmas to you!

Hallo.

Hope your holiday - whichever you do or don't celebrate - was a good one.

We had fun having a day or two off work and getting getting better acquainted with addicted to our brand new Wii gaming system. A game of tennis or a bowling match in the afternoons is now a foregone conclusion.

The Wii was my gift to my darling Matt.
That I also kinda wanted.
A lot.

Shhhhhh.

But my favorite gift that I received has to be a toss-up between:

A Shun 8-inch chef's knife

OR

CANELE MOLDS!
(omgwtfbbq!!1!)

The molds are lovely and fun to play with. Also heavy, which I somehow didn't anticipate. Haven't tried cooking with them yet - a bit intimidated.

And the KNIFE. The knife is a thing of beauty. Classic marbled steel that Shun is famous for, good heft, and sharper than a freakin' razor. Don't worry - the bandage on my thumb in the picture above is from a mandolin slicer accident, not the knife.

... So that should put your mind at ease.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Now that we're a week away from Christmas, with the first snowfall firmly on the ground and the next on its way, I'd like to take the opportunity to talk turkey.

Or, as the case may be, pumpkin.

oooooooooooh....

I found this beauty at a local farmer's market a while back. It was $.39 a pound, and absolutely gorgeous. I brought it home, set it on my kitchen table, and for nearly a month gazed at it, petteded it, and took pictures of it, until finally:

I had to kill it.

Brutally.

It took 6 hours of constant chopping and multiple trips the oven, but eventually I diced and roasted the whole damned thing. And later made the most fantastic roasted pumpkin seeds ever.

Words cannot describe how sore I was the next day. I had bruises on my palms, and my arms and thighs thought I had been cross-country skiing. It took me a full week to recover.

But it was totally worth it.

I'm amazed at how flavorful this pumpkin is. We've made several dishes with it (risottos, pastas, and cookies spring to mind) and still have a ton in the freezer. It is sweet and nicely textured, and adds amazing depth to anything I use it in. I wish I knew for sure what the variety was... I want to say it's a Cinderella, but the sign at the market just said "Old Fashioned Pumpkin."

Keep them that way, please!

I've saved some seeds for planting next year.

(Tiny Turkey Day for Two: Pasta in a nutmeg bechamel sauce with roasted pumpkin and parmesan cheese. Delicious! Thought I had a pic of the finished dish, but apparently I do not. Next time I make it, I'll take a picture and post it as a pic-only entry. Then you will feel like a true Insider.)

caneles!!

Wow - I told you I made batter for these yummy french pastries, then left you hanging for over two weeks.

Sorry about that.

I did make the things, and the results were okay by the second batch, tho I've yet to experience the custardy center that is the stuff of legend. Aside from winging it with the mini muffin tins, I also preheated the tins as noted in the traditional recipe, tho this step wasn't mentioned in the recipe I was using. So perhaps they cooked quicker than they ordinarily would, and so the timer was ultimately useless.

The first batch had an aroma not unlike toasted marshmallows. And a similar appearance, too:

A little too dark, and definitely overdone, though Matt was certainly not complaining. I think this might be one case where he preferred the mistake.

I had enough batter left to try again, so I did:

The color was better this time around, and the center was definitely softer than the surrounding crust, but it was still firmly in "cake" category. Very good, nonetheless, but I don't think it's quite what French pastry chefs would call successful.

Third time's the charm?

We shall see.

I think it mainly comes down to the molds, or possibly to tweaking the recipe to work with the tools available to me.

Alternately, if anyone's wanting gift ideas for the coming holiday season, the traditional molds are only $20.00 a piece!

I need eighteen of them.

Get on that, will you?

Terrified.

Yesterday I made batter for caneles (can-eh-lay. alternate spelling: canneles.).

They are a French pastry with a dark brown, crispy, caramelized crust, and a custard-like interior.

Traditionally they are made in copper molds coated with food-grade beeswax.

Copper molds and beeswax!!!
Am I out of my mind???

I do not have copper molds (available for around $20.00 a piece - for one 1 1/2 inch mold) or beeswax (because I don't know any local honey farmers) so I am using mini muffin tins and clarified butter.

And praying.

A lot.

The batter is simple - simmered milk,butter, and vanilla combined with flour, sugar, eggs, and rum. Then it has to sit for at least twenty-four hours.

Then you have to cook them at all these varying temps for like two hours, and hope you can get them out of the molds and they're actually edible.

I keep reading comments like, "On my fifth batch, I got results I was satisfied with."

I'm freaking out.
Why am I doing this?

...Because they sound delicious.

I've been obsessing about them ever since I found out about their existence four days ago, and apparently I've decided to take the plunge. I'll let you know what happens.

anecdote.

I have always loved brussels sprouts.

The first time I tried them - I would've been about seven years old - I loved them so much that I attempted to shove a whole one into my tiny mouth and eat it all at once. The resulting gagging fit was enough to convince my mother that what she'd heard her whole life was true - all children hate brussels sprouts.

And why shouldn't they?

And what was she thinking giving such vile vegetables to her child?

Remorseful, she never made brussels sprouts again. I had to wait until I could buy and make my own food before I ever tasted another.

[end scene]

So sad!!!!

I probably have 20 different brussels sprouts recipes in my collection. I've one recipe that calls for a brown sugar butter sauce that is amazingly delicious, and know a great (if work-intensive) technique for a warm salad that involves separating the leaves of the heads.

We were turned on to a new technique recently:

Grilled Brussels Sprouts

Have you ever??

The recipe called for skewering the heads before throwing them on the grill, but it didn't take long to determine that this was a dangerous and difficult approach that would most likely end with the skewering of ourselves. So we just halved them and used my metal cooling rack as a guard against any of the sprouts falling into the fire.

I tossed them with olive oil [as directed], then added a splash of serrano-infused vodka I happen to have (I'm preserving the chiles from my garden), and some salt and pepper, and put them over the hot coals for about five minutes per side. After I took them off the heat I tossed them with some crushed red pepper flakes and some blue cheese crumbles.

Delicious!!

Important Note.

I've been down for most of a week with food poisoning resulting from a cup of clam chowder purchased from Cafe 251 located at 251 N. Illinois Street in Indianapolis, Indiana. I ate there for lunch on Tuesday, missed work Wednesday and Thursday, attempted to go back Friday, but only lasted until noon.

I am now aware that at least six people from my company alone have gotten sick from eating at that establishment in the less than two years since we have been at this location.

If you are in the area and the idea should arise, DO NOT EAT THERE.

I will be contacting the Board of Health.

... So, after sleeping for the majority of what remained of Friday, and sleeping until 11:00 AM or so yesterday, I attempted a grocery shopping trip. It went reasonably well, though I did take a nap afterwards, and I actually ended up cooking last night.

And eating!
A lot!

I made Indian-spiced pork chops. :-)

I got the recipe from a suburb addition of our local paper, which regularly provides five easy week-night recipes. This week's were from a recently updated edition of a 1972 cookbook titled "The Rodale Whole Foods Cookbook."

Here's what it says to do:

(serves four)

2 tsp garam masala
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
4 boneless pork chops (5 oz each)
4 tsp vegetable oil

It says to mix all the spices together, pat the mix on both sides of the pork chops, then brush them with the oil and stick them under a pre-heated broiled for 3 minutes per side.

The garam masala I have is already in an oil-based paste form, so I just added a couple of tsp of oil to the whole mix and smeared it on 3 bone-in chops. There's only two of us, after all.

I cooked as suggested, flipping and adjusting cooking time slightly until the part near the bone measured 140 Fahrenheit.

No pics, unfortunately.
Sorry. I'm better, but not THAT better. :-/

Anyway, this was delicious. Despite what newspaper reviewer Joanie Fuson says. (And I quote: "The flavor was a bit overbearing for the kids. Consider cutting the rub ingredients in half.")

What the hell, lady? Maybe you should just teach your kids to use their taste buds. I know we're in Indiana, but you could at least pretend to have a cultural palette. If this had been any more mild, it would've just been salted pork chops. It had a lovely flavor - unique and very fragrant. If your kids don't like it, make them try it some other time.

I served it with baked sweet potatoes, Indian whole milk yogurt, and spicy cilantro relish. We had galub jamun for dessert. And coffee! I hadn't had coffee since Tuesday morning!

Tonight is either spaghetti squash or risotto, depending on what I feel up to doing.

(I actually got hungry around lunchtime today! I had asian soup!)

... and I promise to update you on how we came across all of these Indian ingredients in the first place. But seriously, DO NOT EAT AT CAFE 251.