#@!%&#!

No, that's not the name of the Ikea desk we ordered.  It's one of the sounds emanating from the apartment windows after the 'put it together guys' didn't come when they said they would and told us, when we called, that there was no record of our appointment, and the earliest they could schedule us would be July 5th.  
Faced with the prospect of sleeping, eating, and worse still, checking email on the hard floor, we looked the massive boxes and each other square in the eyes, and set to work.  We made a silent pact to go easy on ourselves.  I reminded C of my age several times before we started, and suggested that if we felt ourselves lapsing into vulgarities to aim them heavenward, not at each other.  I've been master carpenter on enough Ikea construction projects to know that they're not pretty. Putting together a toddler's trundle bed can strain a marriage to the breaking point...imagine what a JOKKMOKK dining set can do to a mother and daughter.
Armed with the Ikea's helpful pictorial instructions, one of C's new pans for a hammer, and a pair of scissors for a screwdriver, we set to work.  

A couple of days and a few mojitos later, we're just putting the final screws into the JOKKMOKK.  The bed, couch, and coffee table (minus the lower shelf...long story) are all done. We've decided to pay ourselves the $189 that we saved and have already set our sights on the local J Crew. 
C starts her job tomorrow, so we have to get some sleep.  Now...who gets the VERKSAM and who gets the FLYGEL?

The land of DUKTIG, KASSETT, EKTORP and PELLO

IKEA is quite a place. I haven't been in years, I guess that's because it's the kind of place you only find yourself at out of necessity. I mostly remember the Swedish meatballs and ligonberry jam, so we were looking forward to having dinner after we finished furniture shopping for C's new apartment. It's a bit overwhelming at first, but we fell in love with all the beautiful room vignettes set up along the winding path painted with little blue arrows that lead you throughout the store. The IKEA aesthetic can be really nice---so clean and fresh---just perfect for someone starting out on their own. We grabbed our cart, list and teeny pencils and started hyperventilating...the more we looked, the cheaper and better things seemed to get. C tested out a couple of mattresses and made a quick decision...wrote down the endless numbers and crazy names on her order sheet and kept moving along the path.

She spotted an adorable bed frame and decided to get it even though it wasn't on her list of necessities. But for $129 it seemed like a good idea to start a new life from an actual bed rather than a mattress on the floor.  It was surprisingly solid and I think when she saw it made up with a fluffy duvet and pillows, she started getting into the swing of things.
She went on to efficiently picked a couch, dining set and coffee table ($19!?).  There was hardly any backtracking or dithering along the path.  A couple of standing lamps, throw rugs, baskets, and pillows later and we were done.
We felt pretty good about ourselves as we rounded the final bend, list in hand, and smaller items neatly piled on the cart.  With home delivery and installation service, it was going to be a breeze. All we had to do was find someone to take our list...we were getting hungry, and it might have been my imagination, but I think the little arrows took us past the meatballs more than once. 

Hmmmmm.
Did you know that they expect you, in our case that's two women 5'2" and under, to actually go into the warehouse and physically move large, no, humongous, boxes of furniture from the stacks onto the cart and then wheel the (now 3) towering carts over to pay for them and then maneuver the *3* carts over to another part of the store to set up home delivery? Oh, and you have to do all this without harming yourself, each other, or, more disturbingly, the stray kid who is whizzing around the cavernous aisles while mom shops for his big boy bed.  And no, they don't have a put it together for you service, you have to contact another company for all that.  I was beginning to see how they could sell that coffee table for $19. By the time we were relieved of our carts we couldn't dive into that DC rush hour traffic fast enough.  No cute little meatballs for us.

Even so, we're actually planning to go back...for some smaller items.  We're pretty sure we saw arrows pointing in directions we didn't have time to get to. But we'll be staying way clear of the "self-service" warehouse. And this time we'll start with the meatballs.

Breakfast at Tiffany's?

We drove the whole way to DC yesterday.  C really wanted to do it, and I don't blame her.  Starting out in a new job and apartment is so momentous, and it seemed a bit anticlimactic to stay in a roadside motel somewhere in Pennsylvania, just hours from our destination.  
Our Courtyard hotel is in Chevy Chase MD, just a few blocks from DC and on the same street as C's apartment building.  We were astounded by the neighborhood...just outside the hotel is a Tiffany's, Cartier, Bulgari, Jimmy Choo, Louis Vuitton, not to mention J Crew, and scads more!  We're off to Starbucks to grab a couple of venti lattes and do some quick window shopping before our day of grunt work begins...

Storms, blueberry muffins and a rental car

We woke up to a thunderstorm this morning.  Waking up to wild weather on a weekend when you don't have anywhere you have to be is one of life's great pleasures, and after two trembling Bichons were fed, walked, and towel dried within an inch of their lives, I sat down to enjoy it.  I love the serendipitous quality of coastal storms.  It's black as night one minute, and then rays of light break through the clouds the next.  Pounding rain alternates with a silent drizzle.

We're out of Thomas's English Muffins, our go-to breakfast. That, combined with the dark cozy ambiance of the storm, and the fact that there is a pint of blueberries sitting in a colander next to the sink made me think of blueberry muffins.  Muffins are possibly one of my top ten favorite foods.  I have been searching for the perfect recipe for years...the kind I would be able to call up at a moment's notice on a morning like this and whip up with whatever's at hand.  They would be light, fluffy, moist and full of fruit and nuts.  But for some reason the perfect muffin has always eluded me.
This morning I did a quick Internet search for---not particularly imaginative, but it's early---the best blueberry muffins.  I figure confidence is a good marker here...I want to quickly get passed all the mediocre muffins and head right for the winners.  I went with To Die For Blueberry Muffins,  A good title, and almost 5,000 reviews.  A promising starting point. 
When I'm looking for a basic recipe I usually bypass my cookbooks.  Cookbook recipes tend to be complex and quirky, as if the authors feel like they have to justify themselves by being super creative. Ironically I won't turn to my beloved Fannie Farmer for this either, because vintage muffin recipes don't yield the super-sized, fluffy, chocked full of stuff kind of 21st century muffin that I crave.  There's definitely a muffin generation gap going on here.  
The recipe below reflects my changes...I added almonds, and almond and vanilla extracts for crunch and flavor, and substituted buttermilk for the milk.  I omitted the crumb topping and just sprinkled sugar on them.  They turned out great.

Blueberry Almond Muffins
Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/3 cup vegetable oil
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 tsp almond extract
• 1/4 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 heaping cup fresh blueberries
• 3/4 cup sliced almonds
• sugar for dusting

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Grease muffin cups or line with muffin liners.
2. Combine 1 1/2 cups flour, 3/4 cup sugar, salt, baking powder and almonds. Place vegetable oil into a 1 cup measuring cup; add the egg and enough buttermilk to fill the cup. Add the extracts. Mix this with flour mixture. Fold in blueberries. Fill 6 muffin cups, (they will be heaping) and sprinkle with sugar.
3. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven, or until done

 
Off to pick up the rental car and pack it to the hilt.

DC bound

C and I are getting ready to leave early Sunday for our drive to DC.  I'm bringing my computer and camera so I'm hoping to keep posting while we set up her apartment and explore the area.

We're going to be in the Glover Park neighborhood, and since neither of us have ever been to DC, it will be an adventure.  We'll begin our grand tour at the Ikea in College Park Maryland. 
Wish us luck!

Salmon cakes over greens with mango salsa

I made mango salsa yesterday and the unthinkable happened---the chips ran out before the salsa did.  Never mind that the logical progression of this dish would involve using leftover cooked salmon.  I bought fresh salmon and poached it in the afternoon so that I would have an excuse to use up the last luscious bit of salsa.  This is an adaptation of a family favorite: crab cakes served on top of spring greens dressed with balsamic vinegar.  You can use canned or fresh crab, fresh shrimp, lobster, salmon or cod for these simple cakes. 
The basis for a fish cake is cooked fish, bread or cracker crumbs, egg, mayonnaise*, seasonings, herbs, and sometimes green or red onion, and bell peppers. These are simple to make and can be made ahead.  In fact they do best when they've had a little while to chill before frying.  This makes for an incredibly easy and elegant spring dinner, and in our house we all agree that these homemade cakes are better than any we've had even in the fanciest restaurants---they always turn out lighter and fresher tasting than commercially made ones.  

Salmon Cakes
1 pound cooked salmon
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup cracker or bread crumbs, I used crushed Ritz crackers
extra crumbs for coating the cakes (I used panko bread crumbs)
1/3 cup minced red onion
1/3 cup minced red bell pepper
juice of 1/2 lime (or lemon)
1/2 tsp dried dill
a palm-full of fresh chives, if you have them
salt and pepper
* I usually make crab cakes with the addition of mayo, but for the salmon I added a second egg and omitted the mayo.

Roughly break apart the cooked salmon, and combine all the ingredients well in a mixing bowl.  Form into 8 balls.  Roll the balls in the bread crumbs, and slightly flatten into a disk shape.  Place them on a plate, cover with plastic wrap and chill until ready to cook.  (To make 8 even cakes, divide the bowl in quarters, then make two cakes from each quarter.)

Saute the cakes in olive oil until golden brown on each side. Keep the first batch warm in the oven while you finish the others.  Serve on top of a pile of greens dressed with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar.  Spoon the mango salsa on the side.

Prep your plates ahead and you'll have plenty of time to raise a glass or two of wine to the summer solstice.

These cakes aren't cakey at all.  They're filled with big chunks of moist salmon and they fall apart in your mouth.  The bits of onion and pepper give a nice crunch and sweet tangy bite.  You could serve these as salmon burgers on buns as well---just make 4 larger burgers instead of 8.

painted ladies

They're everywhere---

dallying along side streets,

on porch steps

peeking out from behind stone walls

at the beach,

leaning up against fence posts

alone 

and in groups,

even in front of Town Hall!

Happy Father's Day

to all the great dad's in the world...but especially mine!

My letter to the world

Do you blog?  Microblog?  Read blogs?  Blog surf?  Lurk?  Plurk?  Tumble?  Digg?  Stumbleupon?  Chatroulette?  Omegle?
I've been wondering lately what separates the blogger from the non-blogger.  Are we an anti social bunch, hiding behind our keyboards, or are we seeking connections with our fellow humans on a far grander scale than most?  Do we have more to say than the ordinary person, or were we the kids that never spoke up in class and are overcompensating for it now?  
I suspect one thing that bloggers have in common is they get a thrill out of saying something to the world and an even bigger thrill when complete strangers, sometimes from halfway across the globe, answer back.  It seems to me that it takes a certain amount of confidence to speak out to the world. Every blogger knows the slightly creepy feeling of putting out a great post and getting no comments. You can sometimes feel like a crazy person on the street corner shouting nonsense into the air, or one of the whos in Whoville frantically trying to be heard from the tip of that clover.
I've been surprised by the wonderful writing and strong personal voices that I've discovered in blogs.  I'm picking up precious communication skills as I explore the variety of styles and techniques in the blogosphere.  I enjoy the stories behind what someone cooks for dinner as well as the more lofty philosophical posts.  I'm understanding a little more about what connects us as humans as I read about people like me who live on the other side of the planet, and I'm learning to appreciate the subtleties of my own life as I write my daily post.  And yes, I was definitely one of those kids who slumped way down in the chair trying desperately not to be called on.
Why do you blog?
Why do you read blogs?

When life gives you lemons...

I've been on a fierce lemon kick lately.  Must be I'm missing the lemon tree that grew in my backyard in California. It produced fruit throughout the year and all I had to do was step outside the kitchen door, reach up, and I'd have a bright yellow juicy lemon. The tree was a scraggly thing.  It leaned over awkwardly trying to grab the sun that was blocked by the unpruned ficus trees behind it. Its foliage was sparse and kind of a sickly greenish yellow, but even on bare limbs it produced lemons.  There were so many lemons that the branches were perpetually bent.  Whenever I plucked one a few extra would rain down so the bowl on my kitchen counter was always full.  It never let me down except for a brief period mid summer when all the old fruit had fallen and the new green lemons weren't quite ripe. Of course it was in spring, with the running of the salmon, and the new asparagus that the tree came into its own. It was my idea of paradise.

For these Lemon Coconut scones I filled a plastic bag at the market. I had to pay 69 cents each and peel off little blue stickers. But it'll be worth it.  

Lemon Coconut Scones

1 cup old fashioned oats
1 1/2 cups flour
2/3 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp baking powder
4 tbsp cold butter, cut in pieces
1 large egg
2/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 tsp lemon extract
zest of 1 lemon
juice of 1/2 lemon
Glaze
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
juice of 1 lemon
Pulse the oats in a food processor for a minute to chop them.  Add the flour, sugar, coconut, salt and baking powder and pulse to mix.  Drop in the pieces of butter and pulse the machine enough to mix in the butter.  In a bowl whisk the egg, buttermilk, lemon juice, extract and zest together.  Pour into the processor and process briefly until the dough comes together.  This will be a sticky dough.  Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and form into an 8 inch disk.  You may need to add a little flour to be able to work with this dough.  Cut the dough into 6 wedges.  Carefully place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.  Bake at 400 degrees for about 15-17 minutes until light golden.  Cool completely on a rack.
For the glaze mix the sugar and enough lemon juice to make a thick glaze.  Spoon it heavily on the scones.  Let set.

Since I just ate one of yesterday's scones for breakfast I can attest that they are great the next day.  Microwave for 20 seconds and it will taste like it just came out of the oven. 

I am missing my backyard lemon tree miserably.  New England has many many natural wonders, but lemon trees aren't among them.   

Crack pie

This pie comes from the Momofuku Milk Bar, a NYC destination milk, coffee and dessert lounge for the ultra-hip and in-the-know.  They're famous for their Crack Pie, a dessert supposedly so deliciously addicting that you can't say no.  Over and over again.  
One of C's goals for the one month that she's home between graduating college and starting her job is to cook as much and as often as she can---four years without a kitchen is hard on the soul.  This week she got around to making Crack Pie.  I'm not going to spoil the fun...watch her make it and then you'll hear what we think. 
For the actual recipe, click on the link above.
The pie starts with a homemade oatmeal cookie crust.  You bake the cookie dough in one large piece, then break it up and process it with more butter and sugar and then press it into a pie pan.

I'm drawing this out for effect...;)
Then a filling reminiscent of pecan pie without the pecans goes in the crust and gets baked.

It's supposed to chill overnight.

We couldn't wait...after all, with a name like Crack Pie, who in their right mind is going to wait for it to chill?

We also couldn't be bothered to dust it with powdered sugar; I'm guessing that's just there as a cute reference to its namesake.  Sorry to say this pie was underwhelming in all departments. As you can see it's downright homely looking.  And as for taste, well, it was good, but not...you know.  Part of it must be the chutzpah factor...with a name like that you have a lot to live up to.

After chilling overnight it was indeed a bit better.  It had a chewy salty/caramel texture which was delightful.  But still not addictive.  Although, to be perfectly honest, you can see from the above photo that the pie was disturbed several times during its overnight chill.  And those gouge marks on the pan do look suspiciously desperate.
I'm guessing that the addictive reputation of this pie has to do with the intense combination of sweet, salt, fat and chewy/crunchy mouth texture, which basically covers all the junk food cravings of humankind rolled into one slice of pie.  Personally I think it could have done with a bit of chocolate. 
But there is hard science to back up the similarity between the effects of junk food and drugs on our brains.  In The End of Overeating David Kessler says that food manufacturers use precise combinations of triggers like fat, salt and sugar, to create "hyper-palatable" foods that leave us wanting more.  They actually stimulate primitive parts of our brains that urge us to seek more of the target food.
For me, it's thick moist brownies, or a certain Tollhouse cookie pie that leaves me weak at the knees.  While the Crack Pie was good, it wasn't addictive.  In fact there's still half a pie left in the fridge, if you want a taste.
Verdict:  Crack Pie?  Just a sliver, please.

 What are your trigger foods?

The thrill of the hunt

Thrift stores can be the best of places or the worst of places depending on your attitude and what you are there for.  I've always loved them, and one of the first things I did when we moved here last fall was to scout out a few good ones.  Now that C is moving into her own apartment we have a reason to haunt them in earnest.

In the 1970's, thrift stores were literally gold mines. You could find such amazing things that I still have the occasional thrift store dream where I've scored some unbelievable Victorian lace dress or diamond brooch.  Nowadays vintage has become mainstream and Goodwill and others skim off the 'good stuff' to sell on ebay.  The key is to be looking for stuff that other people aren't necessarily looking for.  Stay ahead of the pack and you can still find great buys.

I'm looking for 20th century glass and dishware, which is still around in abundance.  Just glancing down the dishware aisle at one of these places instantly conjures up a multitude of holidays and family meals through the generations.  I have a collection (in storage at the moment) of matte creamy white vases and pitchers in all kinds of shapes and sizes from the 1920s to about the 1960s.  I found one more for my collection, and I can't wait to get them out and display them again.

C was overwhelmed at first, but quickly began piecing together a cheerful mismatched group of solid colored plates and dishes.  Once we knew what we were looking for, we could train our eyes to pick out pieces that would fit nicely within her theme. 

We were exhausted after our day of visiting thrift shops.  For one thing, they tend to be few and far between.  And once there you really have to get down on your knees and paw through the merchandise.   It's not for everyone...but the rewards are worth it.