Surprise Me

There's not much of a story here. Actually, the story is that sometimes taking a chance on the unknown can result in the most pleasant of surprises. And sometimes not.

Exhibit A: Husband and I (read: husband) kept revisiting the idea of bringing an animal into our apartment. Our options have been whittled down to two, maybe three, as there are no dogs allowed in our building: fish, hamster, cat. The hamster idea never stood a chance, and I wanted something more fluffy to cuddle up to than a fishbowl. So, cat, it was.

One visit to the local shelter later, and I arrive home with not one, but two kittens in tow. Did I mention that I'm not a cat person? However, these two lovelies were sitting in the window, half-scared and half-lethargic. The owner let me know that they had been rescued together, were scared of everything, and were each other's only comfort. Going once, going twice, SOLD to the softy who doesn't like cats.

Wilma's distrustful stare.

I keep convincing myself that this will work out by using phrases like "they're coming around" and "making strides". The truth is, it's been two weeks, and I still can't touch them without a frenzy breaking out.

A friend recently summed the situation up perfectly: "So let me get this straight: you paid for them, bought them toys and blankets, feed them, clean up their crap and you're getting nothing out of the relationship?"
Hmm, yes, that sounds about right. Time will tell whether this story turns into a pleasant surprise.

Exhibit B: What is pleasantly surprising is this dish I threw together earlier this week. It made sense when I was thinking about what I have at home versus what would actually be a satisfying dinner. I had tons of shittake mushrooms, avocados and some lemons. I was in the mood for scallops and what resulted was the perfect meal to pull me out of my kitty stupor. The contrast in textures from the crisp, sauteed mushrooms and the creamy avocado was enticing and the sauce was amazing. I'm not just saying that. It was I'm-embarrassed-to-be-using-a-scallop-to-consume-every-last-drop amazing. Here you go:

Scallops with Shittake Mushrooms, Avocado Puree, Lemon Cream Sauce

Serves 2

For the Avocado Puree:

1 avocado, diced

1/4 tsp. fresh serrano chile, minced

1 garlic clove, sliced

2 T. sour cream

1 lime, juiced

salt to taste

Combine all ingredients into a food processor and process until smooth. Cover and set aside.

For the Shittake Mushrooms:

1.5 cups Shittake Mushrooms, stems removed, sliced

2 T. vegetable oil

1 shallot, minced

2 tsp. fresh lemon juice

salt and pepper to taste

In a skillet over a medium flame, heat oil and and add the shallot, cooking until translucent, about 3 minutes. Raise the heat to medium-high and add the mushrooms, salt and pepper. Saute until well-browned and cooked through, about 5 minutes. Stir occasionally to cook evenly. Right before they are finished, squeeze the lemon juice over the top and cook for about 15 seconds. Remove from heat and set aside.

For the Scallops:

1 T. vegetable oil

6 Large Sea Scallops

1 lemon, juiced

1/4 cup creme fraiche

2 T. cilantro, chopped

salt and pepper

Season the scallops and pat dry. In the same pan used for the mushrooms, heat oil until hot, nearly smoking.

Add the scallops and sear on high heat until a crust forms, about 2 minutes. Turn to cook other side briefly, about 2 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside. Lower to medium flame and add lemon juice, stirring the juice with a wooden spoon to scrape up browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Add the creme fraiche and continue to stir until the sauce is homogenized and reduced to a thicker consistency. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Assemble: Create a bed of mushrooms on the bottom of each plate and place three scallops on each.

Top each one with a dollop of avocado puree and finish with sauce and cilantro.

You say granola like it's a bad thing.

Last weekend, my husband and I went out for brunch. There is a great little restaurant in our neighborhood, and while their dinner menu leaves something to be desired, their brunch is on. the. money.
Brian gets weak in the knees for their fried chicken (yes, for breakfast), and the truffle scrambled eggs are at once light in texture while filled with the dense, earthy flavor of the truffle.

It doesn't matter where I go for breakfast, my first instinct is to scope out the granola bowl. Whether served with yogurt, fruit or plain, it's the granola itself that gets me swooning. Many breakfast companions, past and present, not-so-subtly hint that this takes away from my credibility as a cook and food lover. I passionately disagree. When I find a good bowl of granola, the world is on my side. It should have a nice crunch. It shouldn't taste too sweet. I like to include dried fruit to bring something chewy to the table.

Pretzels, bits of candy, well-done oats: These are tell-tale signs that you should've ordered the omelet.

I have tested and re-tested so many versions of this granola, that I've actually converted a few nonbelievers. Will the fried chicken/eggs Benedict/blueberry pancakes still be ordered? Absolutely. But the granola prejudices now have every reason to cease and desist.

Hippie Granola

(Makes 3 cups) 

2 c. Rolled Oats

½ c. sliced almonds

½ c. pecans (or substitute your favorite nut)

¼ c. unsalted sunflower seeds

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

¼ tsp. ground nutmeg

Pinch of salt

¼ c. vegetable oil

¼ c. maple syrup

½. tsp. vanilla extract

½ c. unsweetened shaved coconut

½ c. dried cranberries

1.) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

2.) Combine the first seven ingredients in a large skillet, and stir over medium-low heat until oats begin to toast and nuts become fragrant, stirring occasionally, about 4 minutes.

3.) Add the vegetable oil and stir to coat the mixture. Add maple syrup and vanilla extract, stirring to coat evenly.

4.) Transfer skillet to the oven and bake for 20 minutes. Remove pan from oven, stir the mixture for even cooking, and add the coconut. Return to oven to bake for an additional 20 minutes.

5.) Remove from oven, fold in dried cranberries and spread the granola evenly on a cookie sheet to cool down completely before serving.

Pip and Dip

I was fortunate enough to land my first job the day I graduated from college. Immediately, I began working for a big, sparkly publishing company as an assistant to the editor. Green in every sense of the word, the first few months were filled with small victories and huge doubts, as I second-guessed my way through my to-do list.

I was desperately trying to fake it to make it.

Across the hall—the shiny, tiled hall, reverberating with the clackety-clack of designer heels—was another assistant in the same rocky boat as I. Neely, a friendly face with a Tennessean drawl and a can-do attitude, became a fast friend and partner-in-crime. Ever opportunists, we would try to grab lunch at the same time, try to simultaneously run errands for our bosses, dial the other’s extension during a crisis, and occasionally take a car service home, stopping to pick up late-night dinner along the way. During my third month there, our relationship status was official: We became roommates.

A recent graduate working as an assistant is code for “I’m barely breaking even". So when Neely proposed that I join her and her other roommate, Dori, as the third Musketeer for a crazy-low price, I jumped at the opportunity. Never mind that my room was a glorified closet, or that I slept on a cot for a year with no closet to house my wardrobe (strewn across the floor). This was bliss.

We three hit it off right away. As is expected in a 600-square foot apartment, we got to know each other quickly—our quirks and favorite TV shows and hobbies were understood almost immediately. My favorite pastime then, a luxury I refused to shirk because my money should be better spent, was getting a good manicure. Or pedicure. Or massage. I didn’t go out for expensive dinners—heck, Tasti D’Lite was my go-to for any meal on the run—and we didn’t party (too often). The nails must be polished. Neely took to lovingly chiding me when I would come home after my most recent spa excursion. “Excuuuse me, the little pampered pipsqueak has arrived!” she would say, laughing. At twenty-one, fresh out of school, with all of the opportunities in the world ready to be seized, I was a pipsqueak. And the name, which shortened to pippa, pippy, pip, never left.

Once in a while, Neely, Dori and I would cook dinner together. I remember one such night I was excited to try out a simple guacamole recipe I'd come across. This might be the easiest thing to make on the fly, a quick dish to throw together to happily feed a small party. Perhaps I was drawn to the recipe for reasons that went unnoticed.

Green as could be, bright with personality and a little too spicy, the guac and I were more alike than I realized.  

1-2-3 Guacamole

This is as easy as it sounds.

4 Haas Avocados, seeded and chopped

3 Roma Tomatoes, seeded and diced

1 garlic clove, minced

1/2 jalapeno, seeded and minced

1/3 cup cilantro, chopped

1 lime, juiced

salt and pepper to taste

1) Mix together until ingredients are evenly blended and guacamole takes on a creamy consistency.

2) Stir in lime juice, salt and pepper, to taste.

Note: If you're making this in advance, slice an extra lime and place slices over the guacamole to avoid oxidation. Cover and refrigerate.

Serves 4-6