And I Can't Even Bake It Off ...

Bad day at work. One of those days where you run from one thing to the other, trying to anticipate all the things that are falling from the sky, and I made two mistakes. I wish I were the kind of person who could focus on the 27 things that I made happen smoothly, but I can't. I don't. I got a 95% on the test I feel like I failed. And I usually don't sleep for thinking about what slipped through the cracks. Even though it's cable TV, not brain surgery and nobody died. (Although my self-esteem is withering on the floor like a houseplant watered with Draino.) And my boss who's good at the technical part of his job, is pretty bad at his job as a manager. Even though we've worked together for a year and a half, and he's been in my home and met my friends, he has no clue about who I am. And what he does know he ignores or dismisses. He thinks chastising and poking and prodding and humiliating are reasonable techniques for motivating me and other staff. There have been lots of changes in the short time I've been there, one intern disappeared, one PA actually left the industry, an associate producer opted to teach so she wouldn't have to work for him, (she was having ulcers) and a scheduler opted for employment than come to work. Nobody leaves with a sense of accomplishment. Everyone slogs through. He's actually made people cry. I haven't cried, but I have sat up late at night trying to figure out why I keep trying to fit my round peg creative brain into the square corporate hole. All this, and I get to look at Paris Hilton footage all day. Make sense to you? Me either. And I'm trying to figure out what to do when the pear is here. Because it's hard enough to leave the dogs and drive to work on a lovely day when dog park is calling, much less walk away from the baby pear to blow smoke rings in the world of entertainment. Pretty, but silly and as temporary as you can get.

On the other hand, I have new representation for my book. Someone who wasn't initially excited about repping a YA novel, but read it and became excited. I think that's better than if she were in love with it based on the idea. And you would think that this would be the kind of news that cause me to shrug off everyone who annoyed me. Or at least come up with colorful retorts that would amuse or confound. But no.

And usually I bake my way through this feeling. Because I can't wear a hairshirt and flog myself when I make pie crust, or cookie dough. But I can't even do that tonight, because I'm having a glucose test for the pear tomorrow morning. (sigh) So I'm just going to have to lay on the floor with my dogs and feel all these crappy feelings and try to stop feeling like a failure.

Memorial Day

There's a guy who works in the bowels of the parking lot in my building. Not a great place to spend your entire day. No windows. Lots of exhaust and some mysterious fluid that leaks up and around the cracks of the pavement. He parks cars and moves cars so people can get in and out. And he has to wear a shirt and tie to do it. I've seen people be pretty crappy to him, late for a meeting, or just because they can. He's not from this country. I have more respect for him than any of the people I work for. He hustles, swallows whatever snide comment he could make and just keeps working. He reads constantly, when he does get to sit down. The other day I had to leave in the middle of the day for a doctor's appointment and he was reading aloud from a Nancy Drew mystery. You know the books, they were old when I was in junior high. But you know it's probably what he could find at the library. It knocked the wind out of me. He is trying so hard to learn the language, striving for something else, a dream he's held onto and works for just to be here. I hate it that the Governor's ratings are slipping so he starts tossing the red meat line around about the "protecting the borders", appealing to the lowest of the low. Let them come. Let them dream and work and climb out of the parking lots and on to greatness. That's what my father-in-law fought for. I wish I could hug him one more time. And make him ice cream.

I made Mint Chocolate Chip on Friday night. And Cinnamon on Saturday to go with this amazing apple pie my mom made. The key is to make it and give it away, get it out of the house as soon as possible. Otherwise, I'll be in real trouble. But this stuff is so amazing, so rich in flavor and texture, you really can't eat alot of it. I'm thinking about cardamom and almond with vanilla bean next. Got any suggestions?

I'm Thinking About Getting a Fava Bean Tattoo

But maybe it will just look like a lima bean and I'll spend my whole life explaining the difference to knuckleheads.

Saturday night we went to Campanile and had a wonderful dinner; app was a fava bean puree, cherry tomatoes and sauteed bitter greens and the main course was a fabulous salmon over a bed of morrels. Dessert was one of their chocolate pot de creme. The food exceeded expectations and the staff were wonderful, warm, without being too effusive.

Then today, my mouth started watering when I got an email from their staff all about their new tasting menu, which includes Agretti, Purslane and Fava Bean Salad with guanciale and tarragon. Now while I'm a girl who knows the inate difference between pate sucre and pate brisee, I'd never heard of agretti, purslane or guanciale. I had to look up all three... a green, an herb and bacon from hog's jowls. This is the way to explore the world.

Meet the Newest Member of the Family

Meet the Newest Member of the Family
Originally uploaded by view from the kitchen.

My new ice cream maker attachment for the Kitchen Aid mixer. Only t-minus two hours until I can embark on ice cream making. I'm starting with this recipe from the 1979 Betty Crocker cookbook.

French Vanilla Ice Cream
1 cup milk
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 egg yolks, beaten
1 tablespoon vanilla
2 cups chilled whipping cream

Mix milk, sugar, and egg yolks in saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, just until bubbles appear around edge. Cool to room temperature. Stir in vanilla and whipping cream.

Poor into freezer can, put dasher in place (gotta love appliances with names like dasher!) . Place can in freezer tub. Let stand to riped several hours.

It's my birthday and I usually have a little birthday anxiety, too much attention makes me a little squirmy. But after a lovely evening of Thai food with some of my oldest friends, easy conversation, and ice cream from Busters watching the trains pass in South Pas, I'm feeling really loved. Going to dinner tonight with my mom and G, and the Dodger game tomorrow with a huge gaggle of wonderful friends. Life is good.

A Life Well Lived

Paul Keene, considered the father of organic farming and the founder of Walnut Acres has died. The man met Ghandi and founded the first farm in the country to be certified organic. Pretty cool.

Aunt Liz's Cherry Pie

DSC00857
Originally uploaded by view from the kitchen.

This is what you get when you take someone in my family to the airport. A homemade cherry pie. My aunt actually apologized, saying, "Well, it's not as pretty as the last one...it was early and I got the lattice confused and then it bubbled up a little." It looks lovely to me. And her pie crust is wonderful. Lucky for me there's a new debate raging in my family about which pie recipe was actually my grandmother's favorite, so there's lots of baking and taste testing.

Guess what I'm having for breakfast?

Baby Pear Likes What She Likes

Here's what I know about the bean that I'm carrying around. (We're almost six months, she and I.) She digs Indian, Vietnamese, Korean, and pasta. Toast in the morning, dark chocolate before bed. Big glasses of organic milk. None of those, nay-saying, finger wagging ladies who told me, "Be careful, you're not going to get to eat like that anymore..." warning of indigestion, and worse, have been on the money. I've never been sorry for digging into soon tofu, or bibimbop for lunch and a huge salad with goat cheese and almonds, drenched in balsamic. And yep, I have sushi once a week, limited not by the sushi, but by the mercury levels pumped into the fish.

I like a girl who can hold her own at the table.

I think we're going to get along really well.

Forget What You Think You Know About Fava Beans

fava
Originally uploaded by view from the kitchen.

These are not the red-headed-step-cousin of the much maligned lima. They are wonderful. Good and good for you. And delish when dished the right way. Meaty in flavor. Great with mint and lemon, basil and pasta. They are high in folate, protein and thought to control the symptoms on Parkinsons. Of course, you'll have to hunt them down since they are usually parked on the floor in a heap next to the brussel sprouts and old eggplants. But the search will be worth it.