Pecan Sticky Buns

Ok...so I was supposed to post this on Tuesday, since the project I am in is called Tuesdays with Dorie, but somehow this week it just did not happen.  I did make the pecan sticky buns on Tuesday; that counts for something right?  This may have been the most difficult dessert or sweet recipe I have made thus far.  It took me a couple of tries as well.  Before making the actual sticky buns I had to make the brioche bread the buns were made with--which was the hard part.  Brioche is a french egg bread, very similar to challah.  The bread calls for a sponge, which is the starting point for most breads.  The sponge was supposed to crack.  The crack is an indication that your yeast will work.  My first sponge (there ended up being three...) did not work, so I threw it out.  The second sponge came out perfect, as did the rest of the dough. The dough was doing everything it was supposed to do...I know this from watching the demo of Julia Child and Nancy Silverton making the stuff.  It was silky and glossy; a sight to behold.  As I made the dough I heard it slapping in my kitchen aid, "music to the bread-makers ears," Silverton said.  After the first rise it was all puffy and pretty looking.  I must say I was really proud.  The last step was to let it rest.  I DID NOT read the part that said, "in the refrigerator."  When I woke up the next day my perfect dough was sunken in and fizzy looking.  I had to throw it out.  I felt kind of pathetic.  Erik, my husband, told me to let it go.  It was just dough...I tried and it did not work out...perhaps it was time to give up, but this is not how I operate.  I proceeded to make the dough again.  It came out perfect, but man what a pain in the ass!

The brioche took a day and night and the buns themselves took quite a few hours to make.  There was lots of time needed for dough to stiffen in the fridge and rise once again before going in the oven, but in the end it was worth it.  These suckers were good.  It was the first sugar and gluten that I have eaten in over a month.  The friggin things may have been what kept me up the night I ate them, but no matter---they were GOOD and even better for all the love put in.

On a totally different note last week I got some blood work done.  It ends up I have a type of psoriasis called guttate psoriasis, fabulous right?  This particular type of psoriasis is caused by a strep infection, which I tested positive for.  I am on antibiotics and the have lessened quite a bit, but are still there.  Usually in most cases the psoriasis goes away.  It may take time.  We shall see.  I keep telling myself it is something external.  It is not deadly, just uncomfortable at times.  I have eased up on the cleanse (after I caught myself binge-eating chicken I figured it was due time), but am going to follow what many people say seems to work for them--eating mostly vegetables and fruit with minimal meat products and dairy.  The dairy part is hard.  I really love cheese, and I kinda feel like I have been so restricted all ready, but I really want this stuff to go away.  While doing this I am going to utilize all the skills I teach to others such as staying positive, praying for my higher power to assist me, and to straight up relax because this too shall pass.

Peace Out!

Hungarian Shortbread

This past Tuesdays with Dorie was Hungarian Shortbread. I actually made the short-bread on Tuesday and planned on writing the blog that ver day, but life does not always go as planned. Erik, my husband, got tickets to something (at the time I did not know what), and as the day passed I proceeded to get sicker and sicker. The shortbread came out great, though I could not eat it due to the cleanse. Though I did take a bite, but spit it out, sorry, I know, gross, but it just smelled so good. Why did I spit it out? For the passed month I have had psoriasis all over my body, including my face. It almost looks like hives or the chicken pox. Sugar makes it worst. I am not willing to see what "worst" looks like, because in my mind, worst is kinda where I am right now, and it has been a month. Anyhow, by the time we got to the concert I was ready to turn back around. At this point I knew it was some sort of concert. I felt feverish, boogery, and generally terrible. I was willing to take a cab home, until I discovered what/who we were seeing...Roger Waters doing The Wall. I have always wanted to see Roger Waters and regretted not going when Learning to Fly came out. I have been a huge fan of Pink Floyd, since I was a kid. Sick as hell, feeling like I was about to hurl...I stuck it out, at least for the first set. It was a great show. His voice isn't what it used to be. I did not cry during Goodbye Blue Sky like I thought I would (I really love that song), but it was one of the coolest concert experiences I have had...and I have been to some cool shows (if I do say so myself). The next day was a whole other story. I was sick...not just cold sick, but fever, aching, nose-dripping sick, the kind of sick that lays you up for days. I am better now, but still weak and coughing...thus, my post for Hungarian Shortbread today. Oh, and the psoriasis is still there. It is very, very slowly getting better. Getting psoriasis this bad has been a humbling experience. Psoriasis is not a life threatening disease, but it is uncomfortable as hell. The Hungarian Shortbread came out great. I used a cherry jam as the filling. Shredding the dough made it fluffy and was a cool trick. The girls really like them too. We still have some in the fridge. Usually I give my treats out to people, good karma and all, but this time around, I stayed real close to home. I am looking forward to the next treat from Tuesdays with Dorie, pecan sticky buns. Hopefully by the time I make them, I will be psoriasis-free or at least back to some semblance of normal. Peace out.

Lemon Loaf Cake

For this month I chose to only make one of the Tuesdays with Dorie assigned recipes. I knew that would sometimes happen. Sometimes I become a bit torn. I love to bake. I love the way it makes my house smell. There is nothing better than biting into some type of homemade sweet something or other that comes out of the oven. Baking is meditative and comforting. Baking also is something special to do with my children. I love our baking projects-how excited and proud my two little girls get as they wait for their creation to bake in the oven. The girls completely made these lemon cakes; I just directed and taught them what to do. I say cakes because they made two, well Amara made one cake and Maya made the other. One of the cakes was made to give away at the cake walk their school had at the Spring Carnival this weekend. I was proud because it looked like it was the only simple, homemade cake there (at least that is what I thought...I may be wrong).

I cannot describe the way the lemon loaf cake tastes because I was unable to try it. Four days ago I started a three week cleanse. On the cleanse there is no gluten, sugar of any kind, corn, tomato, nothing white, from a box, no soy products--essentially I am only eating vegetables, brown rice, quinoa, vegetables and fruit with a spattering of fish and olive oil for good measure. The cleanse is for food allergies and my immune system. Two weeks ago my psoriasis got really bad. Well first came a bladder infection, which I have never had before. After the infection I got the flu, and then my psoriasis spread and my scalp itched like crazy. My acupuncturist (whom I love and go to for most ailments) suggested a cleanse, so...here I am. What crazy person goes on a cleanse and then bakes two cakes...me!

It was tempting to take a bite of these cakes though, I must say. I love lemon and when they baked the house smelled lemony, almost clean, yet homey too. The cake is very pound cake like and was super easy to make for two 4 year old girls. My husband said they were the perfect consistency and tasted just like a lemon pound cake should taste--meaning nothing was over-mixed. They are plain and simple, but sometimes plain and simple are best---kinda like the way I am eating right now. I am eating as simply and healthfully as I can to help heal myself within and externally. Did I just compare my cleanse to pound-cake??? So be it.

Homemade Rugelech

The next Baking with Julia recipe is for rugelech. The cookies are perfect for the Jewish holidays, well all aside from Passover. During Rosh Hashanah I bet they'd be great filled with apple butter too. Making the levkar may seem like a hassle, but it is super easy and well worth it, but if you do not feel like making the levkar any kind of fruit butter or jam will suffice. Making your own is a pain in the ass, but well worth it. In our house it will be what we make for the Jewish holidays, or to add some confusion, I may bake them for my annual Holiday Christmas Cookie Swap, so I can "school" all my goyim friends. Rugelech somehow reminds me of home. We never made it, but in Long Island, NY there is rugelech in most bagel stores and Jewish delis.

The rugelech take several stages to make over a three day time span, but doing it this way made it much less overwelming. In fact, they are cooking right now and the end product smells amazing. The dough is a lightly beaten, barely stuck together mash of cream cheese and butter, left in the fridge over night. Meanwhile, apricot and prune levkar is made. Levkar is a Hungarian fruit butter made from either dried apricots or prunes, sugar and some kind of nut. The levkar was super easy to make, all it took was some dried fruits simmered and thrown in to the food processor. The cool part of making the levkar is the left overs. I chose to make both apricot and prune levkar to have two different tastes. Dorie says it is good smeared on bread. The gals usually do not like jellies or jams, but I am going to try it out on them for a snack.

The rugelech had a lot of steps. After letting the dough rest in the fridge and making the levkar I was able to actually make the rolls. Rugelech is made like a jelly roll. First cinnamon, sugar, chopped nuts, dried fruit and the levkar are layered onto the dough. The girls had so much fun adding the layers to the dough and pressing all the yummy ingredients in, though I must say the counter and floor where quite messy when we were done. The cookies are rolled up lengthwise, kinda like a burrito, taking care to make sure you add pieces of the filling in as you go. Then you put the roll in the fridge for a night. The next day before going in the oven they are dipped in a nutty cinnamon sugar mixture. When the cookies bake they smell incredible (did I mention that???). The house smelled like the best cinnamon sugar candle mixed with baking pastry or bread...but better because it was the real thing!

On a side note, currently my face is a blotchy, red mess from eating these delicious cookies, but even so, I cannot stop eating them. Through this baking experience I am realizing that sugar really does not agree with me, no matter how much I want it to. I am wondering if I can make some of the recipes with coconut sugar? Or I need to just eat a little bit of whatever it is that I make, then bake some kind of concoction with coconut sugar or agave nectar to ween myself onto something sweet, but a hell of a lot better for me. The plan with the rugelech was to eat a few of the cookies, then stop, but they are addictive. The mixture of the light cream cheese dough with the not so sweet jammy levkar filling and crunchy, carmelized cinnamon sugar crust just keeps begging to be eaten again and again.

Chocolate Truffle Tartlets

This weekend I made the chocolate truffle tartlet from Baking with Julia Child by Dorie Greenspan. The first part of the recipe was making the chocolate pie crust. Pie crusts and I have a mixed relationship. I am constantly trying to "get it right", but have not figured out how...until now. I only had frozen butter, which was a good thing because it was really, really cold and cold butter is key to making a great pie crust. Initially I tried to make the crust in the food processor, but it was not jiving (the butter was actually too cold!), so I used my hands. I think using my hands helps, so I can FEEL the texture. Pie crust flour mixture should be really crumbly, the crumb the size of peas. I rolled it up, but it in the fridge over night to let the flavors meld and hoped for the best.



I get kinda nervous when I have to roll dough out for crust. I bought some tartlet pans for the occasion and a dough scraper at Amazing Cake Supplies, an everything you need for baking supply store in Bellaire, Houston area. I was not sure how 6 tartlet pans were going to make it to the oven in tact--1 tart or pie is usually hard enough to keep in one piece, at least from a dough rolling perspective...until now. The dough scraper and cold dough are the keys to a good pie crust. I must tell my mom this. She asked me the last time we were talking "dough" how not to make the dough stick to the surface when rolling it out and the answer is a dough scraper. When rolling out the dough use the scraper to get underneath the mixture that way the crust does not stick and get stuck. I was able to use the scraper to push the crust up, getting perfect tartlets crusts---just make sure you flour the surface now and then and if the dough starts to stick, just put it the fridge to get cold again if need be.

This recipe also made me realize I need a kitchen scale. I had to chop up amaretti cookie snaps, milk chocolate and white chocolate for the recipe. Since I did not have a scale I guesstimated 2 oz of each chocolate, and I wonder if I used too much. Either way, this tartlet is cool looking. I whipped up egg yolk until frothy and thick and folded it in with bittersweet chocolate for the filling, then mixed in my chocolates and cookies. The coolest part of this super chocolate tart is that the bits of chocolate do not melt, so when you cut a piece there are little flecks of milk and white chocolate throughout the tart adding texture. The amaretti cookies are also cool. Some of the cookies melted into the tart, but I added some hunks, so it gives some pieces a crunchy almond flavor-yum.



The tart reminds me of an ewy-gooey brownie when it is at room temperature. It requires vanilla ice-cream and a nice glass of milk (or almond or coconut milk if you prefer!). I personally found the tart a bit too rich (if that is possible) at room temperature. When the tart is cold from being in the fridge is when its truffley nature comes about. I like the tartlet better cold. When it is cold it tastes like a pie encrusted truffle...yum.


So...there is a bit of bittersweet irony in this love of mine of sweets and baking. Sugar and gluten both kinda sorta make me itch, no joke. Sugar also gives me a sexy looking red spot on the tip of my nose...it kinda sucks. I take salt baths to alleviate the itchiness. When I bake with sugar I know the red spot soon follows. I have to taste what I make right? The thing is though, I really enjoy baking and the fruits of its labor. My husband thinks I am wacky or perhaps a masochist but it hurts so good...

Next month I am making rugelech,which I am super-excited about. In the meanwhile I am going to lay off the sugar and gluten. Perhaps I will make myself some homemade gluten free bread and muffins, drink me some smoothies, and take a few baths.

PS: This afternoon I made veganish almost gluten free banana muffins (I added grain sweetened chocolate chips...I figure grain is better than sugar and this girl needs some kinda chocolate fix when she is sugar detox mode...). Instead of butter I use coconut oil and there are no eggs. Still yum just in a healthy way!

Baking Bread

The first assignment for Tuesdays with Dorie were the white loaves in Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan. I never made bread before. To be honest, I was a little scared at how the loaves would turn out. Bread always seemed like a lot of work (at least that is what my mom told me), but I have this fantasy of becoming this amazing bread-maker, perhaps it is all that sexualized socialization taking it's toll. Making bread seems so simple. All that is needed is a few ingredients. Plus, the house smells so nice as bread bakes and the idea of making bread just seems to emit feelings of warmth and comfort; perfect for a January winter day (though I am ignoring the 60 something degree weather we have here in Houston as I write this...).

The girls were so excited. Maya, my daughter, LOVES bread, particularly toast with butter. When they heard the timer go off on the oven both Maya and Amara came running to see what delights where about to emerge. They were so excited and wanted to eat the bread as soon as it came out.

After eating all their veggie and protein the gals were permitted their fresh-from-the-oven bread. Maya said, "Wow, this bread is yummy," and I got about 3-4 "really" yummies from Amara. They ate two pieces each. Erik, my husband, gave the bread a 7.8 out of 10. He is a hard critic.

Erik gave it a 7.8 because it had a beautiful, crunchy crust, but it was a little dense. I am not sure if the density was caused by using the dough hook on the Kitchen Aid instead of kneading by hand, or if I did not knead/mix it for quite enough time, or perhaps the dough may have even over-worked it. It does not matter though because density aside it was damn good with and with-out butter. Plus, we have bread for the week, and another loaf in the freezer for the week after. How cool is that?

Baking with Julia, my new creative outlet...maybe.

My life has become incredibly busy with two almost 4 year old children to play with and working part-time writing and much of what I used to do to be creative has gone by the way side. Most of the time when I read a book it is for learning purposes...unless it is a cook-book or my new obsession, The Game of Thrones series. Recently I bought a cook-book for my sister-in-law, Melissa by Dorie Greenspan. I borrowed it from the library over the holidays to make sure it was a good present before buying the gift for her it was, Baking, From My Home to Yours. I loved it, and as I do with most cook-books these days, read it like a novel, salivating over the beautiful pictures. For my cookie-swap this year I made the rugelech, which came out delicious (if I do say so myself), and I made yummy chocolate ginger-bread for Christmas. While researching Dorie's other books I came across Tuesdays with Dorie, a blog network of bakers who actually spent 4 years blogging and baking through Baking. It sounded so cool.

In February the blog network will start all over again baking their way through another cookbook Dorie wrote with one of my all time favorite authors and cooks, Julia Child. So...I am going to sign up. I am not sure I can bake from the book every week, but I believe it is 2 recipes a month starting in February. If it ever becomes stressful or hectic I can stop, but it sounds like fun. It sounds like it could be a possible creative outlet, one in which I will learn a thing or two...I need some fun in my life that is my own. Sometimes life gets busy and I forget what fun was like, what with the running around and crazy schedules. So, I am signing up...God help me, to bake with this community of people who will bake their way through Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan. I will be making all different types of breads, french pastries...perhaps even a wedding cake (maybe I can have a block party for that one!). I am excited, but also want to be aware of taking on too much or having added pressure and stress in order to "do" the recipes for the month. I want to, "be" and breathe my way into baking enlightenment, so I am back. Hello...Again.

Hello again

Life is running smoothly, once again. Now, I am a psychotherapist in training. It usually takes me about a month to get used to a new job (or at least the school year...even though now I am not teaching). The girls are adjusted (more like I am adjusted). Actually, I love what I am doing. It is exciting, rewarding work, though emotionally draining sometimes. When a child hugs me because I helped her in some way...there is nothing like it. Also, Lyle, my boss, is great. Working for someone where I can truly be myself and say how I feel. It is refreshing. We have a great relationship. Since I am working for a psychologist and also being supervised there is a lot of talk about feelings, intentions, and motivation behind action...I LOVE IT, though it is hard at times to look at myself so critically. Growth is something I thrive on, even if sometimes the growth hurts a bit. Looking at oneself is definitely not always so easy. In order to give therapy I am required to analyze my actions. It is important to see what is behind what I say, how I feel in session, and what motivates where I go with clients. Sometimes, they may do something that brings up crap within me. I have to know myself enough to see beyond all the bol shit going through my own mind, so I can truly help the client go through...well their own shit really. In fact many a time I sat down to write on my blog, but what I had to say was so personal, so near to my heart, and perhaps also hurtful to others. I just could not write it. It felt like too much.
There was lots of amazing food to write about like the mint chocolate chip cookie sandwiches I made Erik for his birthday, my kickass apple cream-cheese cake that I made for Rosh Hashanah, or the pomodoro I made tonight, slow roasted tomatos roasted in the oven for three years (heaven surely has garlicky, bright red tomatos flecked with fresh basil), but in light of all the deep thinking, it felt like writing about food would just be an easy way out, and unfortunately I am not one to take that route. I rather sweat it out, or avoid whatever is looming over me all together. Anyhow, I am back.

Work starts...NOW

This week I start my work schedule for the year. I have lots of mixed feelings about the whole thing. On one side I am so excited to truly begin. Working with people invigorates me. Helping them figure out their problems and heal themselves...there is nothing else like it. Plus, my boss is supportive, nurturing, and quite wonderful. I will learn so much from her. I am also scared shitless. Though I put on a good show, and probably seem as if I have it all together. Two years of school, and I feel completely unprepared. There is so much I do not know, and so much that I have forgotten. Plus, I am training to be a therapist. This whole gig is completely new to me. No matter how natural it feels. I got A LOT to learn. It is overwelming. I feel all this passion and excitement for this new change in my life, but my family is my first priority. My family is IT for me. Maya and Amara are still very young; a year and a half is NOTHING. They should be with their mother for most of the time (or father or loved one). The first three years of their life are the most important. It forms how they will be in relationships, their feeling of independence, sense of empathy, and so much more. Working takes me away from them. Three years is a blip in the scheme of things, though everything to them. There is a fine balance between work and family, and I am not quite sure a woman can really have it all. Part of me feels like somewhere something gets sacrificed, whether it be a career suffers, or the children loose their parent only to see them on the weekends or right before bed. I hope I can strike a balance. Perhaps working two to three afternoons to start, than more as they (and mostly I) are able to handle it. As they grow up it is so important that they feel as if I was there for them.

Friends

One of the things I miss the most about the East Coast is friends. I have made some in Houston. In fact, I have met some great people. Friendship takes time though. Time, with kids, is limited. The friends made when I was younger, from college days and soon after, know me differently. Those were the days when there was time. Time and lots and lots of alcohol, plus a dose of a late night or two, three...Now I am lucky if I make it till 11. The precious moments I have on the weekends are spent either going out by myself or relishing in family together time. We try to get together with some of the friends we have made, but coordination, healthy children and nap schedules makes it hard.
A few girl friends and I created a monthly dinner. We all look forward to it so much. For a night I get dressed up, blow dry my hair, and put on some make-up. I slowly get dressed. Throw on heels. We drink wine, taste one another's food, and talk. I love it. I just wish there was more...
Friendship now is different. It must be cultitivated. It's not as easy. I wonder if it would be this way if we lived on the East Coast as well?

Waking Up

Sometimes I forget. I am so caught up in mominess, in lover, in family that the rest of me floats by on the wind. My days are spent cuddling with Maya and Amara, giving them love, and showing them this bright, amazing world we live in. I read to them, walk with them down the street looking at birds, flowers, squirrels, and showing them the wind. I make them their meals. My life has become something else, bigger, more expansive. Today, at Dr. Cubberly's memorial service I remembered. I remembered that I am extraordinary. I have gifts. My extraordinariness expands out beyond my family and into the world. There is so much I want to give, so much more to experience, so much more in store. It is fitting that such an epiphany should occur at Dr. Cubberly's memorial because part of his life was dedicated to helping people see their own greatness. It was as if his spirit was with me, smiling, even chuckling a bit.
My love for my family is the greatest, most wonderful and amazing part of my life, but there is more. I have a gifts. I must remember.
I understand now what I want this blog to be about. It is not necesarily about food, though it comes into play quite often in my life. Many of my most memorable experiences have occured around a great meal, whether it was hippy grilled cheese in a parking lot, or a michelin starred restaurant in the french countryside. The blog is about me and the conversations that occur around my kitchen table. Huh...finally I "got" it.

The garden

This weekend I am going to start creating my vegetable garden. I am kinda pysched, yet kinda scared all at the same time. Oh, and I also think I may be nuts. The garden will not be in the middle of my long like orginally planned. Instead it will be on the side of our house. Since it is on the side of the house instead of being about 5X6 feet it will be about 12X5 (ish), since now it will be a semi-circle. Now, you may be asking yourself why I think I am nuts...because I have dabbled in vegetable gardening, but by no means to I have any KIND OF CLUE what I am doing, but I want to, if that counts for anything. To get myself in the mood for the veggie garden endeavor I bought some...plants. I got two peppers, some suash, cucs, and multiple basils. At the moment I have kolrabi, leeks and a pitiful looking tomato plant in the yard. They are not dead, but not blooming either. The dude at the store said I have to feed them every two weeks. This makes sense. Hey, at least they are not dead, considering the heat.

Today was 93 days, and we went outside twice because we thought it was NICE out. Is that pathetic or what? I am from the Northeast I am not supposed to get used to this HOT ASS SHIT. The sad part is, I am...I really am. The cool thing about living down South is gardening, so I feel like it is my responsibility to "get this".

I am scared of the digging part. 12X5 ish is a lotta dirt, lawn, and stuff to take care of. There is this idea in my head that it will be peaceful, Zen, and incredibly cool to have the gals see the food they are eating. Oh, and how aweseome will it be to eat food that was grown right outside our door. Doesn't get much better than that. Can you tell I am trying to psych myself into this?

Nanny Woes

At the moment I am extremely frustrated. I was supposed to start working tomorow, but have had the hardest time finding a nanny or babysitter. I will only be working two half days, and no one really wants those hours. UGH! When I get pissed off, I cook, furiously. After making three Julia Child dishes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking I actually took out my Baking with Agave Nectar book and started putting ingredients to the side to make rasberry chocolate macaroon bars (sugar-free of course). What the hell is wrong with me??? Initially, I attempted to work out using Excercise TV. Either yoga or some punches seemed like a good idea, but the damn thing did not work, so instead I cooked. What pisses me off the most about the "non-nanny" situation is how READY I am to get in the room. Essentially, this is the start of my new career. I forgot how excited I was to help people heal, the feeling of "getting in there", and helping people figure "it" out.
For the past year and a half I have been mom and wife. Working, though it is only about 8 hours a week, made me remember that other part of myself. Once, before I had Maya and Amara I was (sometimes) hot. I had IT (at least sometimes in the right light, with the right dress). My ass was solid, abs tight from hours in the gym, I was a teacher, a damn good one in fact...There is lots of different sides to me now, but I forgot about them. I have been so wrapped up in being mom and wife, I forgot to...um shave my legs, perhaps tweeze and throw on my contacts. I forgot I did Reiki, I knew a thing or two about wellness, healing, life before children. I must remember that before there mom there was Danna, Gordo, DG, D, the one and only...I wasand am somethin' else! All this because I cannot find a lousy nanny. Shit.

Hears to you Doc

Today I found out my teacher and mentor Dr. Walter Cubberly passed away last night. I am so saddened. He was a remarkable man. I took two of his courses while getting my Master's at U of H. It is rare to meet a human being who lives their life fully and authenticly. Most people just kind of blindly walk, bumping where they may. Living a life of integrity, honesty, and love is painful, scary, but real. He knew people so well. He understood their pain and helped them heal themselves, a remarkable gift. I would leave Dr. Cubberly's classes inspired, looking within myself. He felt that to be a good therapist, first we must know ourselves. Our client's can only go as deep as we have gone. While in his classes I applied all the lessons to my own life. I tried to be honest with myself, look at who I was, question it, over and over again. Needless to say I was also in therapy. In sexual counseling I wrote my paper on love and intimacy, so I could utilize it in my own relationship. Family counseling was extremely poignant because I was about to start a family of my own. I wanted to learn from the mistakes repeated through out the generations by becoming aware of what they were. It was not easy. The last time I saw Dr. Cubberly was after I wrote a paper on my family. It was a novella, 60 pages long. My story was the that of my great grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, and of me. It was scary, sad, and beautiful all at the same time. I went to his office to see what he thought. God, I was so frightened I'd screw up my kids, repeat all the mistakes, be a horrible mother. Our meeting was towards the end of my pregnancy. Of course he allayed all my fears, told me it was going to be OK. He said I have had two years of training (school that is), and that I would be a wonderful mother. We hugged.
When the gals were born I called him to tell him I did it. I really did it. He said, "of course you did." Just last week I was thinking of calling him. In a few weeks I go back to work. I wanted to say hello, keep in touch.
Dr. Cubberly was a kindred spirit. He was a one of those special human beings who touched everyone he met. I hope I can be as honest, as authentic, as healing, as loving and as sensitive as he was. Cheers Doc. May your loving soul find peace and light. Thank you.

Ode: the speech I would have given

Georgia and I met my sophmore year of college in 94? Over 10 years ago. She has been like a sister to me. The first time we hung out it was over a bag of doritos (it always goes back to food). We were pledging AEPhi and a chick wanted us to dance like tool bags in front of the guys at the PhiTau house. The other pledges were doing it, but I was way too cool for that. I asked Georgia if she wanted to grab a beer in my dorm room (which I lovingly called the blue room...it was a box with a rainbow guitar stringed Jimi poster on the wall and a bean bag placed next to the fridge which I used as a table). We talked into the night and decieded to call another pledge, Rosie, to take a road trip to New Hope. The next day the three of us piled into the car, said screw pledging, and left. Back then friendships were created over long car rides, conversations and music. I remember eating at what we thought was a fancy restaurant, baked brie. I think I went to a psychic. It was one of those perfect days. We have been friends ever since.
In college we spent lots of Georgia's nonexistent money. Mostly on what we thought was good wine, nachos at Kates, and the occasional dress up dinner at the Melting Pot. She was my partner in crime. We always just understood one another, even when we did not necesarily agree. Through out the years I have slept in tents...I do not think I would have done so if it was not for her. I've stayed up many a night, eaten many a great meal, and had many an adventure with Georgia.
To this day crab cakes will never be the same. When Georgia found out I never ate one we immediately got in the car and drove from our school in Delaware to her parent's restaurant and where I had what is now and will always be the best crab cake I have ever had. It's funny, but we were both not sorority types at all, but the two of us found one another through it, and have remained sisters ever since (shit I am corny huh?).
Georgia and I come from a big, special group of friends. She has always been the center of it. We had the NOMOACTU book club (which met once at the East End amidst much debauchery), the cook off, so many shows, and pollyanna holiday parties. Georgia was definitely the planner. There are so many wonderful memories that she helped create. Plus, if it was not for her I would never have met "cute Erik", the father of my children and love of my life (though much to her chagrin he moved me to Texas).
Georgia has always given to people. Her generousity is boundless. I think that is why I like Jeff so much, he is the first guy who has not taken...he GIVES to her, making her better than who she is. Plus, they are friends first. Friendship is the foundation of a good relationship (but I will not get preachy). During the ceremony I faced Jeff. When they said their vows I SAW the way he looked at her, and knew that she'd be OK. I am kinda protective of Georgia. I have threatened people, and I think they kinda thought I'd follow through...They love one another. I cannot be happier....so cheers to a great friend and a wonderful, hopeful, happy marriage...

Luv, D

Happy Brithday to me

Today is my birthday. Birthdays for me are kinda like New Years or Yom Kippur. They get me thinkin', well almost everything does, but birthdays do even more than I normal (which if you know me is a lot). I turn 34 today (shhhhh...). 34 is one year away from 35, or better yet 5 years away from 40. Wrinkles, yup, some. Do I look my age. Uh...yeah I think so, especially after two kiddos. Do I act it? On occasion it depends on how adventureous or petulant I feel at a given moment. Any regrets yet? None, thank goodness. Oh, and I still fit in to my Lenny Kravitz, black bell bottom pants with the gold buttons, though they are a bit tight around the middle. I had those suckers since I was in high school.
My 34th year will be a good one. It is the year where I will start working again (though very part-time). The year I will fit back in to a size 6 (though this may be too resolutiony).
This will be the year of the garden. I want to build an organic veggie garden right in the middle of the yard. We will grow green beans, tomatos, okra, eggplants, bright colored chard. Perhaps this willl be the year I can convince Erik to get some chickens. The neighbors may not be so keen on the idea (with roosters and all), but I would love to turn our shed into a chicken coop. Fresh eggs every day. The gals and I can learn about where our food comes from. The chickadees can roam in our small little yard. Ahhhh...has Texas turned me into a hick?
I have this vision of large, red, fruit ripened tomatos falling in to baskets, gals picking lemon balm and sage, crushing basil in their hands. Lemons picked off or trees.
My 34th year will be a year of bursting creativity and life.

Enchiladas

I do not have regular meals that I make each week. Actually, there is not many recipes that I cook a second time, aside from roast chicken time and time again (do vegies count?). I want to be a cook that has certain foods that I know how to make by heart. Ones that I tweak and can call my own. I get so caught up in experimenting, and what looks good in all the different food magazines that I forget about this notion of mine. Lately I have tried to cook what seems easy. Meals that we can eat twice a week, and meals that will stretch our dollars that use seasonal vegetables from the local farmer's market. This week I made some killer enchiladas using this month's recipe from Bon Appetit. I think enchiladas are fabulous comfort food. Plus, you can tweak the recipe (once there is a foundation) to include fresh veggies or different proteins. Enchiladas will be what I make before my cilantro dies, or when it is most plentiful because I need a lot of it. I actually memorized the recipe. Now that I am writing it out I will make it again and again, especially when all we have to eat in hot Houston is different types of summer squashes. This recipe was so good. I cannot wait to eat it again.

Enchiladas: Serves 6
About 2.5 pounds of tomatillos rinsed and husked
4 unpeeled garlics
4 poblano peppers cored and seeded
2 cups of cilantro chopped
1 cup of chopped red onion (or 1 onion)
1 cup of chopped scallions (or about 1 bunch)
2 tablespoons of whatever herb you want (the original called for oregano, but I used sage because it was what I had in my garden)
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 cup of feta or cotija cheese crumbled
a pound of protein (I used flank steak, but you can use shrimp, shredded chicken or even a combo of squash, zucchini, and spinach)
Corn tortillas (or whole wheat if you like)

Foil a rimmed baking pan. Brush pan with oil. Broil tomatillos, poblanos (cut side down), and garlic for about 10 minutes until peppers are charred in places. Let rest for about 15 minutes while you cut the onions, chop the onions and scallions, and herb, and put your protein out to rest or marinade (if you want totally up to you). Peel the charred parts of the peppers off. Coarsely chop the peppers. Add about 1/3 a cup to food processor, along with the tomatillos and the cilantro. Pulse it and add the onions and scallions. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Preheat your oven to 350
Wrap about 8 tortilla in damp paper towel and microwave for about a minute. Meanwhile saute the red onion and peppers for about 2 minutes, add the cumin, herb, and salt and pepper. Prep your protein. I just sauted some flank steak for about 5-6 minutes a side, let it rest for 5 minutes, then sliced it up nice and thin. Make a bowl of the salsa verde that the tortillas can easily fit into. Dip the tortillas in the salsa on each side. Also, spread about a half a cup of salsa verde on the bottom of a lasagna dish or glass baking dish. Lay the tortillas in the dish. Spread the pepper onion mixture, some protein, and about a tablespoon of cheese on each tortilla. Roll it up. Do this with all 8 tortillas. Pour two cups of salsa verde on the enchiladas. Bake for 20 minutes. Garnish with some onions or avocado if you like. Drink margaritas. Yum.

Momma Week

This past week I was on my own with the gals. Erik was on business in Florida. He was away on Mother's Day, which sucked. The first day or so he was gone I became depressed. Being home is amazing, but can be isolating as well. I talk to my daughters, and my other momma friend down the block, but that is it.
I am a talker. I mean if you know me or have known me I am a really big talker. I like being around people. When Erik is home we talk, a lot. Having him be away made me realize how important it is for me to talk, review, discuss the day and everything else under the sun. When Mother's Day hit I was so sad. It only felt like Mother's Day because my neighbor was gleefully sipping a glass of wine during the day as she strolled along with her husband and son. I know, I know Mother's Day is a hallmark holiday created for marketing purposes, and yes I am totally a sucker for it. I want breakfast in bed or a fancy brunch (though I hate pre-fix menus), spa gift certificates, potted plants, and jewelry with my daughters' birth stones. And, yes, I am a total sappy sucker.
Even though Erik was away he still made it special for me. He had me do a Treaure hunt of cards through out the house. I cried. The rest of the time Erik was away I decieded I'd stop being sad and really be with Maya and Amara. Insanely enough it worked. I even enjoyed bath time and was not remotely annoyed when one of them shat in the tub. Really. We fed ducks, went to the park, and strolled our street countless times. The three of us had fun together. It was kinda like I got Mommy Week because I made it that way. It is nice to have a computer back though...and I think Erik can change some diapers while he is home too...

Home Now

I just got back from Philly yesterday. Everyone survived. I had a wonderful time, though at some points it was riddled with guilt. As usual, I ate my way through my vacation. About three pounds later I am currently on detox! My body just ain't made the way it used to be. A hangover usually lasts about a day, now it takes two or three. While in Philly I hit a few great restaurants.
My wonderful friend Keith treated me to a FABULOUS meal at James. James is actually across the street from my old apartment, so going back to the hood was nostalgic and fun. Everything was perfect. James got best new chef 2008 from Food and Wine magazine. It is one of the hottest places in Philly to eat. We had wild ivory salmon poached in olive oil topped with trout caviar. It was silky butter with a hint of salt. I will dream about this dish. We also ate mullet (not Amara's hair, but the fish) which was in a chicken consomme. The outside of the fish was crispy good. The dish reminded me of the ocean, which is what I believe it was supposed to do. We also at ricotta gnudi with braised pork belly. Gnudi is a large, cloudy puff of gnocchi. There was a fresh pea rissotto with bacon ice cream that was a salty, fresh tasting, bite of creamy goodness. My absolute favorite dish was actually a side dish of tortelli topped with crispy chick peas--I wish I knew more, so I could somehow replicate this dish. The pasta was cooked perfectly, the chick peas added great texture. Wow.
My trip has me feeling refreshed. It was not just the sheer laziness, or seeing old friends, but even though it was a short trip, it brought me a new sense of self. I have not been an "I" in a long time. I am a "we" now. I like "we", but it is nice to remember the "me" in all of it...not sure if that made sense, but it sounded good to me.
My trip reminded me of how blessed I am. My trip reminded me of just how much I love Erik, Maya, Amara, Harry, and Leo. My trip also reminded me of my history, of my friends. It is nice to have history, to be loved, and to love. I miss Philly. I miss living in a city, but most of all I miss sharing in my friend's lives. It was so great to be able to be there. I also realize that even though I miss Philly and my dear friends I like the life I lead in Houston. I am creating new stories, new history.

Heading to the place I used to call home

I am going to Philadellphia next week, solo. This will be the first trip I take by myself since I have been married. It has been three years. Erik is taking a few days off to watch the gals, and his parents are coming to help him out. For 4 days it is just me. Sad to say, but I am kinda nervous. I am not scared that Erik will not do a great job. I know he will do fine. Maya and Amara will miss me, but the world will not stop. I just feel...weird, like on some level leaving them is not natural. The idea of being free gives me guilt, as if the idea of being alone has me let go of some kind of burden. Going away for a bit is good for me. Plus, it will be nice seeing friends and catching up. I just feel so different. I mean I am still Danna, my eyes are slightly more crinkly and my hair has some white spots, but underneath my new ass it is the same old me, but somehow it isn't. It is Danna, Erik, Maya and Amara. Danna, plus.
I wonder if I am the mom who talks about my kids all the time. If, because I stay at home, I have become boring. The girls and Erik are the center of my universe, aside from myself of course. I cook, write on this thing, read, eat out when I can, and take care of people, in fact I love taking care of people. I am good at it. Before having kids I was so judgemental (who the hell am I kidding...still am, kinda). I never thought I would be the one who'd stay at home with my kids. Erik and I discussed being home for a year, now it will be two. I enjoy being home with the girls. Today we went to the park. When we got home the girls were exhausted, so the three of us just laid on the floor. Amara was across my chest, in the crook of my arm, and Maya sprawled out on my belly. The three of us just watched the fan curled up, snuggling. Peaceful. My little heavens. So...I guess I am that mom.