Stop What You're Doing

That's it. No preamble. No long-winded story about my childhood. No self-reflection.

Just stop what you're doing RIGHT NOW and make these Salted Brown Butter Crispy Treats from Smitten Kitchen.

They are the lazy person's version of The Best Thing I Ever Made. Only 4 ingredients. And they are extremely delicious.

Not pictured: butter.

That is all.

P.S. This recipe easily doubles which is good because God help you if you only make a single 8x8 pan of this goodness. I could eat an 8x8 pan of them all my myself. Which I may or may not have done for dinner last night.

It's the Little Things

I know I've been away for a really long time. I feel so guilty. What I want to do is prostrate myself in front of you and beg forgiveness while you read this post on whatever screen you're looking at.

But that would be awkward. And I try not to be awkward on purpose.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

But I have the most amazing little thing to share with you. I just read about it on The Kitchn.

Are you ready?

Take the stupid ring off your measuring spoons and keep them out on the counter in their own little jar by your other most-used utensils.

I love this. This has changed my life. Not in a big way, but in a nice, little way.

Now I don't have to go digging in my utensil drawer for my measuring spoons (which are the most often used item in my drawer save for the citrus reamer, and also the smallest item in the drawer, inevitably buried under the garlic press, the can opener, the measuring cups, two thermometers, an ice cream scoop, two cookie scoops...you get the picture).

The small jar hardly takes up any counter space. Now my measuring spoons will not ever accidentally nest in the dishwasher, preventing all of them from getting clean, because they're all being washed individually, no longer tethered to each other by that pesky ring.

And if I need one of the regular round measuring spoons and one of the rectangular "spice jar" spoons for the same recipe, I don't have to wash every single measuring spoon I own. It's so easy to just grab the one or two measures I need for a recipe. The efficiency is mind-boggling.

I am so happy every time I look at this little jar of spoons.You should try it!

Christmas Dog

This post is not like the others. It’s not about things homemade so much as it is about what makes a home.

Rocky, I can’t believe it’s been 15 years since you came home and instantly became our brother and Christmas Dog.  You were, without a doubt, the best dog our family ever could have had. It's hard to express how much you meant to me. All I know is that the hole in my heart is immeasurably huge.

You were an incredible dog.

We knew pretty early on that you were special when we tried to teach you to play “fetch.” One gorgeous summer night, we were out in the backyard with you, throwing a rawhide bone across the grass. You’d happily run after it and pick it up, but then you would not come back. At all. You’d plop down and chew, or wander around the yard a bit, sniffing things, but at no point would you head back to any of us for another throw.

I guess it didn’t bother you that this behavior wasn’t exactly in line with your breed standard. You were born a Labrador Keeper. Champion lineage, be damned.

When we’d be out walking you, people driving by would roll down their car windows to comment on how handsome you were. They were right, but what they didn’t get to see was your snaggletooth. Even when you were being your most salty and insistent about something, it was hard to be stern with you because your upper lip was all caught up at your gum. You looked ridiculous and it didn’t deter you in the slightest.

One of the things I loved, and will always love, most about you is that you had an insatiable taste for butter. I never knew cold butter straight from the fridge had a smell, but you showed me otherwise. You could smell cold butter from clear across the house and you never missed an opportunity to angle for a pat. Foil wrappers were of no consequence to you; you’d swallow those sticks whole, aluminum and all, if given the opportunity. Having done that “chew on a foil gum wrapper” myself when I was a kid, I have no idea how you did this. Your passion for butter specifically and food in general was matched by few. I like to think you would have given Jeffrey Steingarten a run for his money, had you ever had the chance to compete head to head.

I’ll always cherish the photo of you with your head stuck in a cereal box, your butt backed up into the cabinet in a half-sit as you’re trying to extricate your head from the Multi-Grain Cheerios. It’s on my bedside table. 

Sandy and Liz and I knew when getting our breakfast that we always had to select from the rectangular boxes as the rounded ones bore your mark as much as if you’d been able to put pen in paw and sign them.

Of course, you couldn’t. You didn’t have opposable thumbs. Man, we really loved to make fun of you for that.

Is it ridiculous that I’m crying as I type this?

My very favorite memory of you was the week that Mom & Dad left to go to Yellowstone and put me in charge of the house, you, and our sisters. You kicked off that week by snatching half an avocado out of my hand and swallowing it whole. You thanked me for that treat by puking in the middle of the night all over the kitchen floor.

Not to be outdone by yourself, a couple of days later you ate a small box of Godiva truffles. I still can’t figure out how you got them. When we found you, all that was left of your dirty deed was the plastic wrapper and a small bit of cardboard. I guess you didn’t find cellophane to be an appropriate amuse bouche.

I was panicked, Rocky. The parents were unreachable off in the woods and I was so worried the chocolate would kill you. Your bright and cheery demeanor, tail wagging aggressively, did not fool me. I was sure you would die on my watch and I was absolutely terrified. I called the Emergency Vet (because you were thoughtful enough to pull this stunt on a Sunday night, of course), and we assessed your condition. Thankfully, because you were so fat, the Emergency Vet was cautiously optimistic that you’d be fine.

I know that sounds mean, but really, you were seriously fat. At one point you weighed more than me. That’s why we started feeding you baby carrots. I’m sure that for the rest of my life I won’t be able to look at a baby carrot without thinking of you. Because of you, in our house, “the ‘C’ word” took on a whole new meaning that had nothing to do with nasty words for lady parts. 

Anyway, on the Emergency Vet’s advice, I cooked up a large pot of plain boiled rice and ground beef. I fed it to you, and, in your typical manner, you ate as if you were coming off some sort of prolonged hunger strike. You ate every meal that way. I love you for that.

As it turns out, you were fine. You didn’t even get sick. I was amazed, but mostly I was relieved. You were okay. You were happy. You were hoping I might give you some more boiled beef and rice.

While your approach to food endeared you to me early on, I have especially always admired your approach in making new friends. The less someone liked you – and it’s hard to believe anyone would not like you – the harder you tried. You would not leave their side. You would be a constant companion at the foot of their chair. You refused to accept anything less than love from everyone, and you weren’t afraid to work for it if you felt that person needed convincing. You were a very insistent, very persuasive guy. You converted many a dog-hater. You were just that charming.

I love how you were afraid of the floor vents in the kitchen.

I love how when I once accidentally stepped on you in the dark and simultaneously poured a glass of water on your head, all you did was look at me with shock and mild irritation.

I love how you’d grumble from the back of your throat when you wanted to “talk” to us.

I love how you would sit like the Sphinx, with one paw tucked under.

I love how you’d never bark unless someone came to the door, and then you’d let out a single, deep, intensely scary woof.

I love how you’d chase rabbits in your sleep.

I love how you’d walk around a puddle rather than through it.

I love how you’d snatch food tossed in the air as if you were an alligator.

I love how we had a shared passion for fine leather goods. And shearling. Me for wearing, you for eating.

I love how every time one of us would come home, no matter how short the trip, you’d run immediately in search of a toy to bring us.

I love how you brought so much joy to all of us, especially Liz.

All dogs go to heaven, Rocky, and you’re no exception. I hope when you get there, you find a gigantic doorless refrigerator stocked with an unending supply of baby carrots and Plugra butter. You deserve nothing but the best because you really are the best dog who ever lived. 

I love you.

Stockholm, Highbrow and Lowbrow

I guess it's fitting that I spent day two in Stockholm experiencing a mix of highbrow and lowbrow culture. After all, these are the people that gave us Ikea and H&M: high style at low prices. Turns out it's hard to escape Stockholm without being buffeted between the two.

 

Highbrow

I started the day with a walk over to the Stadshuset, which is both Stockholm's City Hall and also where the Nobel Prizes are awarded. I got up at 6am without an alarm (it really doesn't get dark at night) and wandered over there since practically nothing opens until 10am.



I believe this is some kind of symbol of Stockholm. I like it because it reminds me of one of my favorite Matisse line drawings:

(Fata with Hat of Light, Memory of Mallarme, 1933.)

 

Nobel Prizes awarded through these doors.

 

 

Proof I was here.

You can kind of see Gamla Stan (the Old Town) over my right shoulder. You would have been able to see more of it but the stranger who took my picture clearly doesn't know anything about framing a shot.

Here's what the view really looked like:

 



Lowbrow

Then, I walked through the Kungsholmen neighborhood (which is fairly normal and non-touristy) to a supermarket, because I always think it's so interesting to see where the locals buy their food. You can tell a lot about a culture by what's in its grocery stores. The Swedes love cheese, fish, bread, and bulk bin candy.

 

 

 

They do actually have Swedish fish in Sweden. Only they are just called "pastelfisk" and, oddly, they are not all red but are a variety of mixed colors. Unfortunately, my attempts to photograph them failed.

 

Highbrow

Next up was a visit to the Moderna Museet, followed by a jaunt over to the Historiska Museet, i.e. the Viking Museum. Sadly, there were no hats with horns in the Viking museum, although I did see a lot of old gold jewelry and treasures. Very fancy.

 

At this point, I was starving and tired from walking around for the last 5 hours. I was hoping to lunch at an outdoor cafe in Ostermalm but couldn't find one that was crowded enough to probably be good, but not crowded enough that I could get a seat outside

 

Lowbrow

So I caved, and went to McDonald's.

 

I know, I know. Here's the thing.

 

McDonald's in Sweden actually has gluten-free buns for its burgers. I couldn't resist.

 

As you can see by the glop of ketchup on my hand, the Swedes are very into their condiments. I somehow managed to get ketchup in my hair (!) while eating this thing...ketchup that I only discovered the next morning. Classy.

Also, the bun...the bun was spongy. It's hard to get the full effect from this picture, but when I say "spongy," I mean, literally like an object which might absorb soap and clean dishes. It had the kind of texture that causes one to wonder if it is actually digestible. Oh well.

 

Highbrow

 

Post-McDonald's picnic, I did a bit of shopping, including a trip to Marzio which had fabulous shoes and bags but unfortunately not in my size, as most of the store was on sale (a benefit to traveling in July). I also made a trip to NK, which is like Swedish Harrod's. Very cool and lovely.

 

Dinner that evening was at B.A.R., a restaurant I read about in a few places, including in a recent Elle Decor guide to the city.

 

I sat outside and enjoyed the loveliest meal.

 

To start, I chose the Ocean Plate, which featured cavian, smoked char, pickled herring (obviously), a langoustine, and some shrimps.

Also, because this is Sweden, where they don't act like you are a pariah if you can't eat wheat, the restaurant quickly swapped out the normal bread basket for some gluten-free bread THAT WAS DELICIOUS.

 

Seriously, I can't express how good this bread was. It was nutty and wheat-y and multi-grain-ish and awesome. America needs to figure out this bread.

 

After the feast of fishes, I had some reindeer, because when in Scandinavia... and also, I'd never eaten reindeer before.

 

This reindeer was so tender and delicious. Really incredible. Like beef, only less..beefy. You know how sometimes you can taste beef up in your nose? Like that charred beef-ness gets up way up in your palate? Reindeer doesn't do that.

 

Then I realized that the reason that the reindeer was so tender was because this was not a reindeer that had spent any time pulling a sleigh. This was reindeer CALF.

 

Oh my god, I ate baby reindeer.

 

Well anyway, it was delicious.

Posted with Blogsy

A Thing of Beauty

This past weekend, I organized my shoes.

Wait, wait! Don't close the browser window! This story has a good ending.
Bear with me. 

I realize devoting a full day to shoe organization is like one step above (below?) storing them in the oven, Sex-and-the-City-style.

But it was necessary.
My shoes had started to multiply like Gremlins in a kiddie pool.

There were shoes behind the closet door.

And behind the bedroom door.

And in an old, broken bookshelf.

And on another old, broken shelf. 

(Thanks again, movers, for breaking all my stuff!)

And in a basket.

Er...two baskets. 

And in the closet.

And the other closet. 

Some might say I have too many pairs of shoes.
This sentence does not compute.

I clearly just needed some better shoe storage.

Here's what I did:

1. Assembled the large, deep Ikea Billy bookcase. (This one.) Despite my non-love of white laminate, I determined that the white shelves and background would provide the best, most neutral canvas for shoe display.

2. Drilled three extra sets of shelf holes at the top, bottom, and right below the middle door hinges. This was a huge pain in the ass and I wish I'd done it before I assembled the cabinet but I didn't realize that it was necessary until after the shelf frame was together.

3. Added the Billy Olsbo glass doors. Drilled holes and added cabinet knobs.

4. Alternated Billy glass and wood shelves in the cabinet to keep the look light & airy.

It only took about 4 hours.

Ikea seems to have gotten smarter about their instructions. They now feature this drawing to start that bible of exasperation, the Ikea instruction booklet:

Do you see that?

Sad guy with pile of parts = alone
Happy guy with pile of parts = with another person

That's right. Ikea is trying to tell you that you should not assemble their products without a second person around.

Screw you, Ikea. I don't have another person.

Despite their singleton discrimination, I have to admit, they've got a point. If you have ever assembled anything from Ikea that involves door or drawer parts, you know why this drawing is here; namely, for moral support and suicide prevention when you realize you're missing a part. I bet their risk management people made them add this to the instructions to avoid lawsuits.

Approximately 60% of the way through the building process, there is inevitably a moment of utter exhaustion as you look around, surrounded by torn boxes, papers, little metal parts, and rebus instructions. And a half-assembled piece of plywood laminate furniture that you have carefully made sure is NOT TOUCHING THE BARE WOOD FLOOR.

Ugh.

That said, I persevered despite a minor breakdown (proudly, there were no tears) that accompanied attaching the doors. In the end, it was worth it. 

I can now see all my flats, sandals, and heels at once. The only thing that would possibly make this better is a wider shelf (and more wall space) so that my boots could be in there as well. But there's no room for boots. It's ok. I'm still pleased with this solution. It feels like I'm shopping every time I get dressed.

It's a little bit awesome.

Joy. I feel joy every time I look at this thing. It's like Christmas morning EVERY morning.

As Mom said: "Nice! You have room for one more pair!"
Yes. And I'm enacting a strict one-in-one-out policy from here forward. Gremlins begone!

Popeye, The Sailor Man

I bet you can guess what this post is about!  Spinach!

No. Actually it’s about having disproportionately large calves.

Just kidding. I have those, but you were right the first time. It’s about spinach.

Raise your hand if you’re tired of spinach. Personally, I feel like I eat it all the time. In omelets at brunch, in salads at lunch, as a side at dinner, on pizza, etc. And I really, really can’t stand that minerally, nails-on-a-chalkboard feeling I get on my teeth from eating cooked spinach.

Gag.

But spinach is something that my stomach doesn’t get bent out of shape about, and also, I just got a bunch of it (two bunches, to be precise) in the farm box.

Much like I am tired of cooking bok choy with the same flavorings over and over, I’m not sure I can do sautéed spinach with garlic and olive oil any longer. I’m done. After 30ish years of eating spinach prepared that way, it’s time for something new. Surely there’s another way to cook spinach. A way that's not creamed.

Thanks to last year’s 2011 “Learn to Cook Some Indian Food” foray, I pulled Madhur Jaffrey’s Indian Cooking at Home off the shelf and looked up “spinach”.  And there it was. Several of the usual ingredients – garlic, olive oil – but also some new ones – cumin seeds, cayenne.

Intriguing.

Figuring I had nothing to lose, I whipped it up. It honestly couldn’t have been easier. This is not a dish you need “cooking skills” to make. All you really need are tongs.

You have tongs, right? If you don't, go get yourself some, they are the most indispensable kitchen tool I own. Seriously.

Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a large skillet. I used a combo of olive oil and grapeseed oil, and my 12” pan.

When the oil gets hot, add a teaspoon of cumin seeds.

When those little guys start dancing in the pan, add three cloves of garlic that have been, essentially, julienned (cut into thin strips lengthwise).

When the garlic starts to become golden, add the spinach (washed, stemmed, still damp, and coarsely chopped if not the baby variety).

Use tongs to toss/distribute the oil/garlic/cumin and then put a lid on it.

Let it steam/sauté for about 4 minutes or so? I don’t know. Check it.  Toss it with the tongs occasionally. You know what cooked spinach looks like.

When it looks done, add half a teaspoon of salt and a pinch of cayenne. Turn off the heat and toss with the tongs to incorporate.

It’s wild how different this tastes than your typical spinach. I actually stuffed some into a quesadilla I made with Monterey jack cheese (and a spelt tortilla, THANK YOU RUDI’S ORGANIC BAKERY) which was amazing, like some kind of Indian-ish burrito.

Try this sometime. It’s eye-opening, in a good way.

Gobsmacked on Valentine's Day

OMG, you guys. The best thing ever happened to me on Valentine’s Day.  I know that was more than a month ago but bear with me. Ironically, this best-thing-ever had nothing to do with hearts, love, flowers, boys, diamonds, or anything like that. 

No. 

What happened was: I hacked a cupcake recipe and it WORKED.

Yeah. I’m totally, like, a rogue baker.

What. Up.

Maybe I should get a tattoo.

Ok, I’m being completely absurd but I’m not sure I can sufficiently express the feelings of accomplishment and joy that accompanied this particular endeavor. I want to put this on my resume.

I’m serious.

Here’s how it all went down.

Joy the Baker, one of my favorite cooking bloggers, posted a recipe for flourless Strawberry Cupcakes using coconut flour. Intrigued, I bought the cookbook featuring that very recipe.

I made the Strawberry Cupcakes, as directed. Only problem is the author of said cookbook is militantly anti-refined sugar and so uses agave nectar. Well, I’m not exactly pro-refined-anything but let me tell you something about agave: it is off the charts high in fructose. And guess whose belly doesn’t appreciate fructose?

That would be mine.

So first batch, I made by the book. Second batch, I subbed in granulated sugar and a little extra water.

You can see these specimens below. They were fine but a little odd-tasting and the strawberry flavor wasn't coming through as much as I'd hoped. 

Agave on the left, granulated cane sugar on the right.

Meh.

I felt I could do better.

I found a recipe on marthastewart.com (my go to for baking – her recipes always, always come out perfectly) for Strawberry Cupcakes that seemed to be popular among the commenters.

There were just a few problems:

The recipe made 34 cupcakes, which was about three times more than I needed.

The recipe used all-purpose flour and cake flour.

We’re still not totally clear on what my stomach issues are but one thing I know for sure is that common wheat is not my friend. I can’t eat it. Period. If I do, about an hour later, things get ugly. My stomach hurts something awful, my joints ache, and I become exhausted with this overwhelming feeling that I MUST go to bed IMMEDIATELY, at which point I literally cannot think of anything else.

The only thing I can liken this reaction to is:…

You know when you have a long day of day-drinking? You start at maybe 11am or so? And you’ve done a mediocre job drinking water in between? And around about 8 or 9pm, you just crash?

It’s kind of a little bit like that feeling. The feeling that you just HAVE TO go to bed. NOW. You stop talking to other people. You pass out face down with your clothes and makeup on.

Except, also, pretend someone is stabbing you in the gut. And that every movement of your limbs aches.

Those are just the immediate effects. The lingering gut effects sometimes last for a few days.  I’ll spare you the details.

Needless to say, I’m never willingly eating wheat again. The doc thinks it’s fair to say I have a wheat allergy.

Obviously, it’s been hard for me to admit to myself that I can’t eat wheat. Really hard. I’m sure this sounds petty, but I’m not lying when I say it’s been a bit of an emotional battle. I really love croissants. Always have. Always will. And there are times when all I want is a damn burrito. Just a normal, Chipotle burrito for lunch. Is that too much to ask?

Unfortunately, yes. I went through denial and I’m working on acceptance.  It’s getting better.

But it got a lot better on Valentine’s Day. February 14, 2012 will forever be the Day I Realized That All Was Not Lost in My Baking Future. That I could, and would continue to learn to, make delectable treats that even people with normal, non-angry digestive systems would enjoy.

So here’s what I did:

I took the Martha recipe, cut it in one-third, subbed weirdo flours (white spelt and coconut flour) for the normal all-purpose and cake business, tweaked the liquids and the leaveners, and guess what?

THE RESULT WAS DELICIOUS. I actually wish I had a better word than delicious because I say things are delicious all the time and even though I do eat a lot of delicious foods, these cupcakes…they were sublime.

I couldn’t believe it. I am still scarred by the time I was 12 and made a chocolate cake with olive oil because I didn’t understand the flavor the olive oil would impart vs. regular vegetable oil and my entire family refused to eat it. As much as I’d like to think I was being forward-thinking in my culinary ambitions, the truth was, I screwed up and learned that you can’t just substitute things in baking and expect it to work.

It was a good lesson.

And all the more reason why I was absolutely gobsmacked – GOBSMACKED! – by the result of these Strawberry Cupcakes.  

Let me be frank: I’m no cupcake expert. I don’t make cupcakes all the time. Cupcakes, while tasty, are not my “thing.” But I loved the idea of making cupcakes for my friends for the Valentine’s Party I was throwing, and Strawberry Cupcakes seemed just perfect.

And in the end, they were.

Kate's Perfect Strawberry Cupcakes with Strawberry "Ice Cream"  Frosting 

inspired by Martha Stewart Living and The Pastry Queen Christmas

1.  These cupcakes are not gluten-free, just wheat-free. I seem to be able to still tolerate spelt, and by God, I’m going to eat it for as long as I can. But spelt has gluten. Not a lot of gluten, but gluten nonetheless. So be warned.

and 2. It's called Strawberry "Ice Cream" frosting because - you guessed it - it tastes just like strawberry ice cream. Killer.

Makes and frosts 36 cupcakes 

(I'm giving you the full recipe and not the fuzzy-math version as I just made full batch last night for the people at work and the quantities are much, much more normal.)

Ingredients

Cupcakes:

2 3/4 cups white spelt flour (I used Bob’s Red Mill & measure using dip & sweep method)

3/4 cup coconut flour (same deal: used Bob’s and dip & sweep)
1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2 1/4 cups sugar

3 large eggs

2 large egg whites
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups very finely chopped strawberries

3-4 drops red food coloring, optional (you may want to add this as the fresh strawberries have the peculiar quality of turning the batter a bit blue-grayish)

Frosting:

2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature

8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature

2 cups confectioner’s sugar

2 teaspoons Grand Marnier (or you can sub vanilla extract, in a pinch)

3-4 drops red food coloring (optional)

6-8 large strawberries, stemmed, hulled, and pureed

8 ounces mascarpone

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line standard muffin tins with paper liners. Whisk the flours, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. 

 

2. Cream butter and sugar with a mixer until light and fluffy. Add eggs, 1 at a time, followed by the egg yolk, beating after each addition. You may need to scrape down the bowl in between additions.
 

3. Reduce speed to low. Mix wet ingredients (milk and vanilla extract) in a bowl or pyrex liquid measurer. Add dry ingredients to butter mixture in 3 additions, alternating with wet ingredients and ending with dry.
 

4. Add strawberries and food coloring and mix until just combined. Scrape sides of bowl to be sure. 
 

5. Divide batter among muffin cups, filling each 2/3 full.

 

 

6. Bake cupcakes until testers inserted into centers come out clean, about 20 minutes. Let cool in tins on wire racks.
 

7. Once the cupcakes are completely cooled, make the frosting.  Combine the butter, cream cheese, and confectioner's sugar with a hand mixer on high speed until fluffy. Blend in Grand Marnier. Add the strawberry puree and mascarpone and mix on low to medium speed until incorporated. Warning: if you overbeat the mascarpone, you'll cause it to curdle! If you are nervous about this, put the hand mixer down and use a wooden spoon to combine the mascarpone with the frosting mixture.
 

8. Frost the cupcakes using a table knife or pastry bag fitted with a wide tip. Add a strawberry bit on top of each cupcake if you want.
 

Frosted cupcakes will keep in an airtight container in the refrigerator for 2-3 days. 

Twelve Things to Kick Off 2012

Happy New Year!

Thought I'd kick off the 2012 posts with a list of a few of my ambitions for the year and a bunch of things I love right now.

Ambitions

1. Be more generous of spirit.
(Way to throw down the gauntlet right out of the gate, Kate.)
Whatever. Go big or go home, right?

This was a suggestion from someone who is well qualified to provide me with constructive criticism. I've been practicing. It's not that easy. But I am really, really trying.

2. Take better food photography.

Luckily, there's an awesome blog called Taylor Takes a Taste which is filled with great tips along these lines. Thanks Taylor! Have ordered some new equipment and can't wait to try out some new tricks.

3. Every month, cook something from this cookbook.

Je t'aime, Jacques. Seriously, how cute is he?

4. Improve my belly on the inside.

2012 is the year in which I am going to solve this ongoing craziness so I can stop ordering like this in restaurants:

 

I'm serious. That's what I'm like these days. Only even more annoying. It's killing me. Trust me, you don't want to eat out with me right now. I'm a mess.

5. Also, improve it on the outside.

I think it's time for some abs. Visible ones. Maybe not all six, maybe just like, two. Two would be nice. I don't really have the body type to make this easy, and I never previously thought this was attainable, but a couple of months ago, a very wise person challenged my thinking on this. I'm going to try. Game on.

6. FINALLY get my financial house in order.

To be fair, I've been working on this since 2011, but 2012 is going to be a time of major focus for this ambition. It's time to grow up and be an adult. At least about this one thing. Also, getting a dog is partly predicated on achieving this goal and I really want to get a dog.

Loves

7. Fresh greens for January.
Nothing says "fresh start to a new year" more than the very faintest scent of eucalyptus.

Just a touch of smell. It's not good when the dining room smells like someone just shoved a cough drop up your nose.

8. This dinner.
I'll write about it in detail soon. You really should make it. It's so wintry and comforting. And easy. I'm warning you so you are ready to go when I post the recipe. 

9. This cape. 
So soft. So cozy. So impractical. Did I mention I bought this at the Brooks Brothers in the terminal (yes, the terminal) at the Detroit Metro Airport? Because I did. And no, I wasn't drunk. 

I like to think I look less bitchy when I wear this cape...but I'm not sure.

10. Barbara’s Oatmeal Snackimals

Holycraparethesedelicious. I believe these are the first packaged cookie I’ve ever liked in my whole 33 years of life. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that all the ingredients can be found in my own kitchen. I have to negotiate with myself to not eat the whole bag in one sitting. I don't always win.

The discerning reader will notice that the lighting is TERRIBLE in this photograph. That's because I took it in a hotel room with my cell phone. Yeah, I love these cookies so much I took the entire bag to Detroit with me. And ate them all in two days.

11. This cheese. 
It might be the best cheese I've ever eaten. I'm still trying to figure out how to get my hands on more of it because they seem to not sell it online. Perhaps I should add: "Acquiring more Teahive cheese" to the list of aspirations for 2012. 

You'll notice that this is just the wrapper. You wouldn't believe how rapidly I can eat a volume of cheese. I'm like that hot dog competition guy. And I'm not even going to tell you my antics surrounding the acquisition of the remaining cheese at the New Year's party at which I met it. Not my best moment. But. It's. So. Good.

12. Last but not least, this song. 
I love love love it. When I hear it, my heart sings and I feel as though I have found my personal theme song. 

No, that's ok. I'd laugh at me, too, for having just written that. 

All I can tell you is that if we made a movie (a rom com, obviously) about me, this would be the song we play at the turning point when all the pieces come together and everything awesome starts to happen.

I just can't get over this line: 
I'd rather be the one who loves / than to be loved and never even know

And, especially, this one:  
Long time coming but now / the snow is gone

Yes, and yes. 
And for the record, yes, Josh, I will be your darling. (As if you had to ask!)

Finally, to quote a dear friend, "Suck it, 2011."