Recessionary Commissary: Pizza Two Ways

I must be losing my good senses in the heat because tonight I thought I'd thaw pizza dough and chicken from the freezer and make pizza. It sounded great, thawing dinner. But once it was thawed it had to be cooked. And since I was aiming for barbecue chicken pizza with caramelized onions that meant cooking on the stove AND in the oven. And it is 8pm and my thermometer says it's 85 degrees outside. Lunatic.

But I cooked my chicken and onions and shaped two pizza crusts. Then I spied goat cheese in the fridge with a fairly recent (ahem) expiration date and slices of tomato left over from last night's turkey tacos and our goat cheese and tomato pizza came together. I par baked each crust because nothing on this planet is worse than burnt toppings on raw dough.

We will now spend the next 24 hours trying to get the indoor temp back down to livable levels. Next time I will not buy a house made of Swiss cheese. It's tasty but HOT.

But dinner was "free" (fallacy of sunk costs be damned) once again!

Recessionary Commissary: With a Dash of Urban Decadence

It so happens that some of the meals on the Recession Special are not that exciting and/or photogenic. Like the other day when we had a BLT and a grilled cheese. So I spared you. Tonight Jac is cooking up a fairly weekly obsession, turkey tacos. (Teaching that man how to open a packet of seasoning and toss it on turkey cooking in a pan is one of my life's great achievements.)

We met up with friends this weekend at Eatonville, the new outing from the creators of Busboys & Poets. I wanted to explore the neighborhood a bit, since it's changed a lot since I used to frequent the Vegas Lounge back around the turn of the millennium. Suddenly Vegas Lounge shares a block or two with the likes of Logan Tavern and Whole Foods. Around the corner and up the street, we took in the rest of the U Street Corridor.

I'd heard of Home Rule, an eclectic and functional kitchen and housewares store. Jac went off to find the comic book store I'd promised him. Home Rule was pretty and precisely packed with all manner of kitchen goods. I got a little keychain for our river house keys. I don't know why but I always imagine handing the keys off to a visitor even though "keys" are sort of a foreign notion in that part of the region. I also got some Bar Keeper's Friend. Man that stuff is my friend. I've only done one pot with the latest batch, but it is gleaming!

I stopped in a furniture store that at once attracted and repulsed me. It was stacked from floor to ceiling with furniture and affordable antiques. I can't imagine there is a fire code left the place is not violating, yet, were there no other customers, I could imagine myself shoehorning in there to explore the vintage glassware (which hello I totally do not need).

The Southern brunch at Eatonville was a perfect match for the sweltering Sunday afternoon. We met up with friends and checked out the new place. I had an Eatonville Sunset which had rum, gin and pineapple juice and now I'm a fan. I passed on the Mint Julep but I see one in my future. We sampled the crab burgers, steak and eggs and I had the Texas (French) toast with blueberry compote. It was delicious. The music was lively and set the perfect mood. We all had a good time, so good that we ordered more drinks and split the chocolate pie four ways. The chocolate pie was well-beyond my expectations. Mostly, the whole Eatonville vibe was just pleasant and both "happening" and relaxed. It was an ideal diversion from the Sunday countdown.

I do wish the menu had a few more approachable items for those of us who avoid seafood or meat. I'm sure that will evolve as Busboys & Poets has a menu that is more accommodating.

Recessionary Commissary: Dates with Bleu Cheese

At our favorite restaurant (yes, I'm going to talk about Founding Farmers, again) there is an appetizer of bleu cheese stuffed dates wrapped in bacon. I ordered them on one particularly hedonistic outing and Jac marveled for days over the sculptural quality of the bacon.

It enveloped the stuffed dates and held together in perfect caramelized circles. The date filling was so yummy I knew I'd have to try to make it myself soon. Unfortunately there has been a lot of "purchase with intent to prepare" happening in this house lately. Two pints of dates passed their prime waiting for me to make this tasty morsel.

The bleu cheese I'd acquired for the that purpose was about to meet the same fate when I put my foot down and made some frilly sweet and savory mouthfuls! This is going to be one of those times when I just tell you the technique and just use your noodle and you'll get it to taste fabulous.

I let the dates come to room temperature. If they'd still been firm I would have given them a quick trip to the microwave. I took 1/3 bleu cheese and mixed it with 2/3 mascarpone cheese and mixed them together. Then I pitted the dates and smeared the creamy cheesy mixture inside the date. Then we ate them, rapidly and decadently until they were gone gone gone.

So as extravagant as these little bites are, they were most definitely fit for the Recessionary Commissary because they salvaged food headed for the Great Compost Pile (in the backyard).

Recessionary Commissary: Garlic Brutons

I made the mistake of buying a "baguette" (trust me it really needs the scare quotes) at Giant again. I thought I was doing so well too, because I passed up the ridiculous doughy mess with Eiffel Towers all over it that also claimed to be baguette for the Giant bakery one. But lo, it's basically a giant white bread hot dog bun.

So how to get this bread up to par (it's really tragic to even consider)? I had a couple cloves of garlic in dire need of use. I split off a couple of cloves and put them in a pan with olive oil, a dash of salt and a dab (or soooo) of butter and let each side toast in the mixture. The result was a crisp garlic bread in the crouton family, bruton? They were delicious. I don't think I'll ever make garlic bread the oven baked way again. And I'm delighted for salvaging the lousy bread and using up garlic cloves.

Recessionary Commissary: Angel Hair Pomodoro with Pesto

Jac and I each bought tomatoes late last week. (One of us probably could have looked before leaping and seen half a dozen vine ripened tomatoes on the counter, but don't mess with Jac and the farmers market.) They languished on the counter after a couple of BLTs. Yesterday I knew something had to be done.

I chopped the tomatoes and wished for some basil to magically appear. I thought about making a plea on the neighborhood listserv. I even contemplated going all the way to the grocery store. (Our neighborhood Giant is currently demolished and being rebuilt which means a haul to my preferred Harris Teeter but I digress.) The thought of the Recessionary Commissary weighed heavily on my mind so I moved some random jars around in the fridge for a while until a jar of pesto materialized. I decided the tomatoes would be well-served by a long night spent with the swarthy pesto so I introduced them, gave them a little A/C and turned out the light.

Today I let that tomato pesto sauce come to room temperature and cooked a box of the wrong brand of angel hair pasta bought out of desperation one day. I warmed the tomato pesto sauce briefly and topped the angel hair. A little salt and shaved parmesan cheese and I swear I heard that pomodoro start to sing. New out of pocket cost for today's dinner: $2.61 for the parmesan and $0.75 for half a baguette.

Recessionary Commissary: Chicken Philly

The recession's not new, to be sure, but around this house we've been exploring a little city I like to call Denial. Denial is a beautiful place with full online shopping carts and wild clearance shopping at Old Navy's $5 sale, running in the air conditioner like it's 1999.

But a little bird dropped a load of news during our vacation that means the recession has found its way to my business. My poor little business. So while I am pounding the pavement getting a bit more work for us, we're at least peeking out the doors of Denial to see the apocalyptic mayhem unfolding, you know, everywhere.

Today I returned a bottle of shampoo to Rite Aid because I'd purchased the wrong one and used coupons for the things I couldn't really avoid buying. But, we've been through lean (ahem shut up) times before and when we tiptoe into the real world I think perhaps this time we'll do it with a touch of flair.

So dinner tonight was made entirely from things already in the house that were on the verge of not being something a person would want to eat. Jac had picked up sub rolls sometime last week and there was nothin' funky growing on them so they became our platform for chicken Philly gruyere cheese steaks. These tasty treats were topped with leftover onion from taco night and canned mushrooms briefly marinated in an open single-serve bottle of red wine. Those Survivor cooks have nothing on Elle Kasey. I'm turning into a regular wild-eyed Robin Miller with her crayyyyyzeee life. No I swear, it will never be that inedible.

I have a pantry/fridge week of meals all planned out. I must warn you there are some real doozies in there like the night we're having dates stuffed with creamy bleu cheese for an appetizer. We have three bags of romaine lettuce so I am guessing there is going to be a heck of a dull salad around here imminently.

Oh just wait my people, wait for cereal week! Hang in there everyone.

Scallion Pancakes and Chicken Fried Rice

I anticipated making these scallion pancakes for so long that I thought I'd go bonkers if I didn't actually put flour and water together this weekend. I'd bought scallions days and days ago and it was do or die.

Here is the recipe I used for the pancakes and sauce from Brown Eyed Baker. I happened upon a Martha Stewart recipe I'd torn out for the same thing some time back and it is very similar. Essentially it's flour and hot water so it's a recipe for the masses.

I have adored Chinese pancakes since I was little. I am sort of a Chinese pancake snob though. No I am a full-on Chinese pancake aficionado. I have been known to skip dinner altogether when someone forgets to include the pancakes I add to pretty much every Chinese take out order. "Can I get the pancakes that come with Mu Shu, but no Mu Shu?" A high crime in Chinese Pancake World is the substitution of FRICKING TORTILLAS for Chinese pancakes. OMG. I mean, tortillas have their place and I adore them there, but I don't want a tortilla within 5 feet of my cashew chicken! Sadly, there are also the bulk order pancakes from the restaurants that don't make them in house. PF Chang's is guilty of this Chinese pancake crime. They are ultra-thin, dry and lifeless. They are the Communion wafers of the Chinese pancake world. I always hope that some focus group somewhere will give PF Chang's a big thumbs down on their pancakes and they'll decide to start making them fresh. I can see them with a Chevy's Fresh Mex (See what I did there? I said the full name of the restaurant. Last week my mom asked me if I wanted anything from "Ross Dress for Less". We become our mothers.) El Machino (the tortilla making monster at Chevy's) for Chinese pancakes. Oh wouldn't it be heavenly?

For me, Chinese pancakes are best when they're freshly made, hot, slightly uneven in texture with just the tiniest hint of chewiness. What can I say, it's the gluten that makes me feel human. I always wondered how they made Chinese pancakes so freaking tasty. I speculated there might be some rice flour, but no, my plain old all-purpose flour turned out a perfectly respectable pancake. I'll add that this is in spite of the fact that out city kitchen is lacking a rolling pin for some crazy reason so I pounded out the pancakes with a freaking mallet!

And then, about a year ago or so I stumbled across the notion of Chinese Scallion Pancakes. Oh man. You see, in addition to wrapping every chinese dish from Kung Pao to (yes, we've done it) sweet and sour chicken in a pancake, my sister and I have a very unusual (I think) food fetish.

We are nuts about the dumpling skin dipped in that special soy sauce. And Chinese scallion pancakes, displayed solo with special soy sauce are basically our empty dumpling skin heaven on a plate. No need to eat a few bites of the filling or casually chuck an odd bundle of filling across the table to a willing accomplice. Chinese scallion pancakes require no special table preparation whatsoever. Unless you are my sister Banana, in which case you're probably trying to figure out how to pick out scallion bits right now.

Oh yeah, and I made chicken fried rice too. It had scallions and chopped up snow peas in it and used up some of my brown basmati rice. It was quite fine. You know, for not being a pancake.

Dinner at Fogo de Chao

Last night we took my sister Banana to Fogo de Chao to celebrate her thirty-hurnuh birthday. She and her husband had been to the one in Baltimore and had been yearning for a rematch against the meat-wielding gauchos ever since. So, for her birthday, we indulged her.

You start your meal at Fogo de Chao (let's go with FDC so I don't go nuts writing it out) with a trip to a large salad bar. There were a host of salad ingredients and composed salads.

I have to confess that since college luncheons at "Mrs. Greens" and since a Spring Break trip to Colorado where we went to the most amazing salad bar in the world, I have been searching for a salad bar to soothe the green-eater's soul. FDC did not have it. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was a nice salad bar, but I can't get lyrical about it.

We flipped our green/red service disks to green and before you can say "I'll have the beef." a procession of men with meats were headed to our table.

There were cuts I'd never heard of. Since I abstained from red meat all together for a good hmm, 16+ years I hadn't had many of them. I incorrectly guessed what temperature I would like constantly. As a French cooking devotee I was sadly disappointed that the Mother Sauces or any given sauce had no place in this restaurant. Yes, the beef was good, but everything's better with Bearnaise sauce!

Considering the menu prices, I was surprised to find that Coke is served in a little 10 oz bottle suggesting no free refills available here. I mean come on.

Somehow I managed to miss photographing my limeade drink. It was pretty and refreshing. It did have free refills, I learned late in the meal, and it had a frothy goodness that I'd love to recreate.

When it came to remembering Banana's birthday, FDC did not disappoint. They brought her the chocolate molten cake she'd requested.

I ordered a chocolate mousse cake which was far beyond my expectation. It had two kinds of mousse and even Jac tried a couple of bites. He also had a Fragile Baby - Bailey's Irish Cream, Frangelico and coffee with whipped cream on top. It was delish.

After all the food, we needed a hearty post-meal walk to aid digestion (as though anything could at that point) so we walked from FDC to the Verizon Center and poked around. Then we headed back to the restaurant and made a stop at Barnes & Noble.

We had a really fantastic evening, due in large part to the company and the exceptional weather. I enjoyed our walk at least as much as I enjoyed our dinner. Did I just write that? I mean, the meal was good, and I'm glad we tried it but it's not going on the regular rotation.

We did pass a ton of restaurants I read about all the time on the web and it just reminded me that DC is 5 minutes away (okay at 10pm it is) and we should explore more DC restaurants, especially those with valet parking.

Happy Birthday Banana!

Scottish Conan Stole My Sleep

If I haven't made this clear before, I have developed an affinity for Craig Ferguson, despite constantly calling him Colin Ferguson, that is completely capable of easily overpowering an Ambien sleep suggestion. He is different and it is refreshing. I am kind of glad to keep him under my hat because a) he can whisper funny jokes to me and me alone!!!! and b) someone somewhere would make him less funny if he were on earlier or filling bigger shoes.

Dogmestic Bliss

When Kirby is not running down to the dock to bark at dogs in China, these two dogs are killing me with there mooshableness this week.

This is Why I Don't Do This Type of Chore

We are on a two-weekend run of time spent at our house in the country. I love it here, but after the Great Sicknesses of 2007-2008 I'd let a few thinks slip around the house. Like the spice jar I threw out that expired in 2004. The year we built the house.

We are unofficially developing a caste system for adirondack chairs and I felt bad about that and wanted to do something positive to help the chairs on the lowest rung - the purely decorative because they're somewhat uncomfortable recycled milk bottle adirondacks covered in mold from the front porch. That's when I engaged in a Ramona Quimby style adventure that involved me doing a lot of uncharacteristic things.

Like carrying two moldy, unwieldy adirondack chairs from the front porch to the back deck, setting up the hose, locating and applying a spray bottle of Patio Furniture Cleaner. Something in my pea-brain said to put the chairs on an angle by the edge of the deck, I dunno, to get the deck less wet? Well, I took one step backwards and flung myself off of the deck taking a chair with me.

My left knee got a good whack on a step (because I insisted on having steps all around the deck so that code would not require us to have--you know--guard rails). Then my pride, my moldy wet adirondack, and my whole self crashed down onto my right knee. Lemme tell you. The left knee got all the glory with this big fancy bruise but my right got the future orthopedic surgery which if I am not mistaken still comes with a trip to La-La Land.

Decadent Dinner in Atlantic City

Wherever we go, I like to try to find down the best matches for us in dining. I wouldn't say the best meal in town because we're really not caramelized ox marrow on a bed of beetles brined in Jagermeister kind of people. We want foods that are a bit upscale, but recognizable. I want a place where the chef has been creative but not tried to reinvent the wheel - have I told you how I feel about garlic mashed potatoes for Pete's sakes? And I like to get more ambiance than I'm necessarily paying for.

And then I found Trattoria Il Mulino, the cafe side of Il Mulino NY at Atlantic City. It was dressed down food at affordable prices. They brought us a delicious amuse bouche to start. It was an eggplant caponata with slices of sausage and a breadbasket handed down from the Gods. Jac ordered oysters as an appetizer. We each had a cocktail. For once my order was exactly what was written on the menu - Ricotta Ravioli. On the other hand, for Jac I suggested Shrimp Fra Diavolo with linguini which wasn't on the menu but they were happy to make it. Everything was superb.

I spurred Jac on to dessert and could not believe the flourless chocolate cake placed before me. It was absolutely sinful. Jac got coconut sorbet in a coconut shell and we purged from our memories Alexis Stewart chiding that "you know they reuse these things ALL NIGHT LONG" about a lemon cup of sorbet.

We were charmed by dinner and Jac proceeded out to the casino floor to win a little more.

(Sorry for the photos I'm not about to whip out a flash in the middle of the posh restaurant.)

More Time in Atlantic City

"If we leave a day early, that's it, we just lose our hotel room fee, right?"

Yes, right. It's not that there's nothing to do in Atlantic City, it's just that we really did the heck out of it and my husband was quickly embracing the notion of planting his behind in a cozy leather chair and making out with Tivo. We went to all of the AC Casinos.

The Good: Borgata, Harrah's, Caesar's Palace, meh Trump Taj Mahal

The Bad: Tropicana, Bally's, Resorts

The Bad: Showboat, Trump Plaza, Trump Marina

As I said, if there's a next time, it's Borgata or Bust.

We walked the boardwalk and had a refresher in people-watching. We walked and walked to The Walk Outlets which are as oddly configured as the streets of AC. We bought underwear, the practical kind. That was it.

We had a great breakfast at Bread & Butter in the Borgata, a good burger at Gallagher's Burger Bar in Resorts, an okay brunch at Sonsie's in Caesar's Palace Pier Shops.

JAC in the AC

As Atlantic City virgins (okay born again virgin on my part) we had a lot to learn. I scoured the internet before our trip to cram as many little tidbits into my brain before we went. As you can imagine the things we actually needed to know were often not among those tidbits, but that is why God gave us the iPhone 3G.

We stayed at the Trump Taj Mahal. It was the nicest option on the Boardwalk (arguably). We stayed in the new Chairman's Tower. It opened last year. That I like, the notion that fewer people have laid where I will: GOOD. However, when they built this tower they managed to isolate it as far from every other thing in the city and hotel so that each return to trip to the room had like three or four EZ Pass tolls to navigate. As you know from my previous travels, my Last Room on the Wing winning streak was maintained so our 1/4 mi walk from the elevators would be our daily warm up.

Sunday, Day One, we were starrrrrving after arriving, checking in and getting our bearings. We found Dynasty the Chinese restaurant at Taj and I had a perfectly lovely "sad little American only eats white meat chicken" dish that I devoured. Andy was more adventurous and finally we were both fed.

We like to play slots. We discovered this in Las Vegas. I discovered it when I started winning crazy little sums in Vegas. That luck apparently does not apply for me on the east coast. I was solidly down for the trip. Fortunately we were playing the penny slots, but a gal can still do some damage there. Jac had better luck than I and would often cancel out my losses with wins in a single session. We like the newest, noisiest, "most free spins" machines, preferably located near a waitress with a penchant for speed walking.

Our room at the Taj was very nice. We were pleased to find and empty and cold refrigerator which we filled with our own beer and soda. Internet isn't included and you know that won't do for Elle Kasey, so we got daily access. I haven't seen the bill yet, but I suspect it will involve selling a cat and possibly renting a room.

The image in this post is of the Borgata in Atlantic City. Hear me now and believe me later. If you are not a 70 y.o. hardened gambler who smokes three cigs at a time and orders the prune juice with Grey Goose then you want to stay at the Borgata or its sister property the Water Club. They transport you - to Vegas or somewhere with a fine resort. They are breathtaking and make you wonder if you really have to go back to your other hotel. The Borgata is located in the Marina district. I don't care what the map looks like getting from the Marina district to the boardwalk is not unlike the Von Trapp journey out of Austria. It's all circles and interstates and just take a damn taxi already. Because sure, go visit the Boardwalk, but make the Borgata home.

Vacation from Blogging and Everything Else

After our adventure at Ray's the Steaks, we didn't fall off the map. I just smashed smack dab into the WALL. Work was work craziness. Life was piling on plenty of its own craziness. FInally I figured we were really due for a real break from the routine.

I set out researching anywhere we could go without a passport. We both have passports, but they've expired, which means we have to renew them which was just one more administrative task that could not be tackled before someone was handing me a frilly drink on a beach somewhere. I looked all over from the Virgin Islands to Last Vegas. Flirted with the idea of visiting dear friends on the West Coast. Toyed with the notion of a Southern road trip. But ultimately, a place we could get to in about 3 hours, that would have a right-pamperin' hotel, might have some Hot Hot Super Jackpot slot machines for Jac, and that had a lovely view.

I settled on Atlantic City. Hey, we'd never been there. Well not reallllly. I was there for about 4 hours one morning when my friends and I had driven like 11 hours to get there... Long story.

So we went to Atlantic City!