Child's Play

Thanks to some very hospitable friends, Paul and I spent most of Saturday floating in a pool overlooking an expanse of green fields and forests adjacent to a very beautiful country house.  It was one of the more rejuvenating experiences I've had in quite some time.

Aside from the good company, I believe that the aqua noodles we all were hanging on to were a key contributor to the extreme relaxation that ensued.

For the uninitiated, the aqua noodle allows one to float in a variety of configurations (sitting side saddle, sitting straddling the thing, arms draped over, noodle wrapped around the waist, the permutations are endless).  You can bob along for hours on end, virtually weightless.  The experience on Saturday reminded me of a time 20 years ago or so when my sister and I were floating aimlessly in a lake in the Sierra Nevadas on some sort of device, singing the song "Bobbing Along" from Bedknobs and Broomsticks.  I recall being blissfully happy, not unlike I was on Saturday.  

Now I ask you, why is it that once we become adults we abandon these sorts of simple, inexpensive toys which have the capacity to bring such joy?  And only reclaim them in old age when we need them for an afternoon aquacize class?  In the middle of life we trade them in for more expensive yet less fun pool toys such as the floating chair.  What, may I ask, is the point of those?  It's virtually no different than sitting in a patio chair! 

I say that this summer we take back the noodles.  Spend $2.99 and grab yourself one, you'll thank me once pool season starts in earnest.

Kimchi Time

I was on a mad tear yesterday, cleaning out various corners of my apartment and organizing the odd cubbyhole that had fallen into chaos. Mid-afternoon I collapsed, spent from the effort, on my couch. After watching a bit of Suze Orman (I love her, and for all the haters out there, how many of you were profiled in the New York Times this weekend?) I realized that I was ravenous. As I was engaged in a spring cleaning, it seemed that, rather than run out for new food, I should attempt to use up any remnants in my refrigerator.

Admittedly, as Paul and I had been out of town for the majority of the weekend and I had thus missed my usual Saturday morning greenmarket run, the pickings were a bit slim. But I did have one lone vacuum packed bag of fresh udon noodles (left over from my last run to Katagiri) and a small container of kimchi, purchased from the Korean/Japanese lunch place across the street from my office, for what purpose I cannot recall. And of course, there were the scraggly old veggies kicking around in the crisper, among them the garlic chives that I had used for my butter potatoes a couple of weeks back which had held up surprisingly well.

Inspired by the Amateur Gourmet's recent post about kimchi rice, I decided to try to make something of these items...and, as my creative juices were a bit stagnant, I came up with the very unimaginative idea of kimchi and noodles. Unimaginative, but surprisingly delicious, and a wonderful meal for an overcast, unseasonably cold afternoon.

Udon Noodles With Kimchi

Serves 1

one package of fresh udon noodles (approximately 7 ounces)

1 tablespoon safflower oil

1 garlic glove, minced

1/2 cup kimchi, chopped (use more if you prefer)

1 tablespoon dark sesame oil

1 tablespoon garlic chives (optional, scallions would be great here as well)

pinch of sugar

1 teaspoon rice vinegar

Bring medium pot of water to a boil, salt lightly. As water is coming to a boil, heat safflower oil in a skillet over medium-high heat, and when heated, add garlic clove. Tip pan such that oil pools and the garlic is in the oil. This allows the garlic to cook evenly without burning. Once garlic has turned a very light gold brown, add kimchi.

Water should be boiling at this point, so add the udon noodles, separating them from one another as they begin to heat through.

Saute the kimchi, stirring occasionally. Add the sesame oil, chives and sugar. Cook further, until you see the kimchi begin to brown. The noodles should be done at this point. Drain them, and add to the kimchi. Saute for a minute or so, until the noodles begin to brown. Add the vinegar, stir through, and serve.

What I Liked This Week

Smitten Kitchen has me craving brocolli with buttermilk dressing.

I have never before though of grilling fava beans, but I'm sort of convinced that the idea has merit!

A Bloomsbury Life waxes poetic about one of my favorite books, Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries. I have been checking it out of the library for ages...it may actually be time for me to buy it.

English Muse is really making me wish I had a garden with all of her talk of her roses.

And Chateau de Lu has made me wish I was in the market for a sink.

They're HUGE!

I'm not sure when I became such a fan of peonies.  They are considerably more frilly than I am after all, a totally incompatible match for me.  And yet, I find them strangely compelling.  They are bright, effusive, like that over the top, vaguely annoying yet totally entertaining and fiercely loyal friend that you love to be irritated by.

So when I saw that my dear Mr. James Durr had them last week I nearly fainted in rapture.  When I took them home they were tight little buds, and I had no idea how idiotically huge they would become upon opening.

But after a day or two, they were like exuberant pom poms sitting on my bathroom sink, and made me smile each time I walked by.

But I walked in the door this evening and saw the saddest sight.

Peony petals in my sink.  And my one pink one is wilting. 

Which means that my giant fluff balls are not long for this world.  Such is life I suppose.  Thank goodness that there are more where they came from.

How The Other Half Lives

My family has always teased me about my "champagne tastes".  When we went on family outings to grand old historic houses I invariably would ask my parents why we didn't live there...it would be so nice to have all that room!  Fancy hotels thrilled me (we generally did not stay in them but often would go to them for brunch or otherwise get the experience on the cheap), and I looked forward to the Christmas season with great anticipation because December meant that I got to pick out a fancy taffeta dress to wear to the various family parties. 

Now it's not that I long to be rich per se.  I don't want seven houses, I'm not all that bothered about a closet full of $700 shoes (although a pair or two would not be unwelcome) and I'm perfectly content to stay in charmingly modest accommodations when I travel.  It's more that I want the easy life.  Not a life of leisure, not a life where working is inessential, just a life where things run smoothly.  

I would like an unending supply of clean, thick towels.  I would like to never run out of toilet paper and thus avoid the last resort that is the napkins that come with takeout orders.  I would like for my clothes to be clean at all times and for them to be ironed when I want to wear them.  And I would like to have a consistently well-stocked refrigerator.

Now all of these wants could be accomplished with a couple of good housekeepers.  But then that would require a higher paycheck than the one I receive every two weeks.

However, a year or so back I came across a short interview with some sort of rich hostess type and she shared her secret for a well run household:  have duplicates of all vital items.  Her vital items included high quality tea cookies so that she could prepare an inviting offering for the odd guest who drops by for afternoon tea.  This is not the type of guest I tend to have, but her basic lesson did not go unheeded.

My truly vital items are almost all of the culinary sort, but I actually enjoy food shopping (particularly my weekly farmers market run) so I rarely run low on these types of items unless Paul has a particularly cereal heavy week and drinks all of the milk before Saturday rolls around.  

However, I like a clean house and a clean person, so my second most vital items all have to do with personal grooming and various housekeeping tasks.  The problem is I really hate going to the drugstore.  The ones in New York are invariably badly lit, cramped, disorganized, grimy and half the time they don't have my brand of choice.  This is not an ordeal that the head of a well run and prosperous household would endure, and hence, as I am trying to fake it till I make it in this respect, neither shall I.

Instead, I have drugstore.com do the work for me.  I don't have to set foot in the hell that is Duane Reed, they always have the exact item that I'm looking for, the shipping is free on orders over $50 and my merchandise arrives within two or three days of me placing it.  

My ordering method is as follows:  every item that I buy on the site I keep at least one extra of around the house (contact lens solution, toothpaste, Paul's deodorant, dishwashing soap, laundry soap, you get the idea).  As soon as I am down to no extra items (i.e. I have just opened the last one) I put the item in my online drugstore.com cart.  They let you keep the contents of your cart for quite some time so it functions as a running shopping list.  As soon as you have either hit $50 or run out of your most vital household item (for me it is my Charmin Ultra Soft), you place your order.  

I find that I feel much less low rent operating this way than I do when I am scrounging around for tiny tubes of toothpaste from airline hospitality bags or various paper products that are not too rough on the plumbing (or backside).  It's a long way from being an Upper East Side grand hostess, but it's a start.

Feeling Covetous

I've had a minor obsession with weekend bags lately, I suppose because the season of weekend trips will be upon us shortly.  Here is my current crush.

A bit androgynous I suppose, probably even verging on masculine, but I love the menswear look on a woman.  The first fragrance I ever wore (I must have been about fifteen) was the men's cologne Egoiste, and I guess my sensibilities haven't changed much over the years.

First Fruit of the Season (sort of)

Now I realize that rhubarb is actually a vegetable, not a fruit, but for my purposes, during this cruel period of warm weather and limited fruit (of the non-apple variety, anyway), it's a fruit to me. I suppose the fact that something that looks like a blushing bunch of celery is my one bright spot on the sweet end of the harvest spectrum is a little depressing, but the darkest moment is always before the dawn I suppose.


Anyway, I picked up a ruby-tinted bunch the other day and have been debating about what to do with it ever since. I was inspired by Smitten Kitchen's rhubarb cobbler recipe, but on a Sunday afternoon following a weekend trip making biscuit dough seemed like more than I could handle.


I have been seeing loads of rhubarb compote recipes lately (I guess I'm not the only one on a rhubarb kick these days), but I felt my first rhubarb concoction of the season should be a little less austere than a compote. Although I have to say that it does sound as though it could be a fortifying breakfast food, perhaps a nice accompaniment to yogurt. And now that I've mastered the yogurt making process, well, it sounds like compote will be my next rhubarb recipe of the season.


But back to my first. As I was flipping through my trusted Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, I came across a recipe for rhubarb tart with orange custard that appealed immensely. As I mentioned before, dough production was out of the question for me, but I amended the recipe to suit my lazy mood. And thus, rhubarb baked in custard was born.



I swapped out a few ingredients that I didn't have for ones that I did, and I must say the result was quite satisfying. Light, tart, sweet, bright...every positive adjective that you could come up with to describe a summer dessert. And yes, I realize that it is not yet summer, but today I wanted it to be, so in my kitchen it was.




Rhubarb and Custard
Adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison


one bunch of rhubarb (once trimmed and diced, mine weighed about 9 ounces)
1/3 cup sugar
two big pinches of ground cloves
zest of half of a Valencia orange
1 egg
1/4 cup full fat plain yogurt
1/4 cup whole milk or cream
1 tablespoons orange liqueur


Preheat oven to 375 degrees.


Lightly butter a 9-inch cake pan (you could use any baking dish you want of this approximate size). Wash the rhubarb, peel if it is tough and stringy, and cut into 1/2 inch pieces. Toss with sugar, cloves and orange zest and let sit for 20 minutes.


Beat the egg in a measuring cup, add the juices that the rhubarb has released. Whisk in the yogurt and then add enough of the milk or cream to make 1 cup of liquid. Add orange liqueur.


Distribute the rhubarb in a single layer in the baking dish, and then pour the custard over the top. Bake until set and slightly brown around the edges, about 45 minutes. Serve at room temperature.