Happy Birthday!

With today being my father's birthday, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few keys tips to make any birthday party a smash success.

• 
  
  Once the birthday boy/girl reaches the age of 30, have a fire extinguisher on standby, just in case the candles get out of control.
  
  
• 
  
  Once the birthday boy/girl reaches the age of 60, have the fire department on standby, just in case the candles get out of control.
  
  
• 
  
  Always regift that painting of Elvis on velvet – it's such a... classic piece of artwork. It would be a shame not to share it with others.
  
  
• 
  
  If the birthday boy/girl is at all sensitive about his/her age, be sure to take that into consideration when planning the menu. Prune juice, yogurt, and oatmeal are just some of the foods that the sensitive birthday boy/girl will appreciate. After all, nothing makes the pain of depression worse than irregularity.
  
  
• 
  
  And remember, only the birthday boy/girl is permitted to show up to the party in a birthday suit. Excluding, of course, porn stars who didn't have time to go home and change after work.

And now that you know the basics of birthday entertaining, why not volunteer to host that next birthday party? You, your guests, and the birthday boy/girl will be very glad you did.  

Scott's Catering, Etc.

The other day, my brother (who, as you may remember, I've decided to refer to as Sally – in the interest of protecting the innocent) asked me what I would do if my cookbook became a bestseller. And I must admit, I've intentionally avoided such thoughts, preferring instead to set a more modest and realistic level of expectations. But the question certainly did get me thinking. What would I do? What would I purchase with that first royalty check (aside from health insurance, that is)?

Luckily, Sally had his fair share of ideas. Of course, at the top of his wish list was a backhoe. Now why my brother thinks he needs a backhoe is beyond me. I have an image of him getting bored and digging a moat around the house or some form of hobbit hole in the backyard. But whatever his true reason. He tried to convince me it was a good investment, stating, “You never know when you might run out of cooking ideas and need to fall back onto an illustrious sewer digging career.” Gee... thanks Sally.

Well anyway, he and I went on like this for some time, until finally developing a foolproof business model that we named – Scott's Catering, Etc. The business would work something like this: I would serve as head chef and caterer for the catering department, while my brother would handle the septic and sewer digging and installation aspect of the business. (You now see where the backhoe is coming into the picture.) And of course, this line of thought eventually led to the creation of a company motto – Scott's Catering, Etc., we take care of both your ends. How's that for a motto? It's clear, concise, and to the point to say the least.

Now, I'm not entirely sure where this company would be listed in the Yellow Pages. Nor am I certain that anyone would ever contact a septic installation company to cater a wedding, but at the very least, it is an idea. And should this whole cookbook gig not work out, I have the satisfaction of knowing I could always have an illustrious career at Scott's Catering, Etc.

A Querying Quandary

With my book proposal drafted, it is finally time to start sending out query letters to literary agencies across the country. My hope (a hope that is shared by all aspiring authors) is to attract the attention (or at the very least, the charity) of one of those well-connected literary agents. You know the type of agent I mean – that friendly person with a network of people in places both high and low. That energetic agent who is ready and able to chat up every publisher and get my cookbook, CELEBRATE: Food for Life's Special Occasions, printed. It seems like quite a straightforward process. Or at least it does at first glance. Upon closer inspection, one finds a menagerie of subtle complications that can give even the bestselling of authors a blinding headache.

What information do I include in the query letter? How do I write it – my cookbook is funny, should I write a funny query or is that unprofessional? Who do I address it to? Is this Kris Smith, Literary Agent a boy or a girl? How do I know if anyone has even read my letter? What happens if the agent likes it? What happens if he/she doesn't like it? What is an SASE? How do I send an SASE via email? (Seriously, this one literary agency expected me to send a SASE – that's a Self-Addressed, Stamped Envelope – with my email query...) And the list goes on...

Suffice it to say, this whole querying literary agents is anything but easy. And in many respects it is quite futile – the vast majority of my query letters will be answered with rejections written in choppy, incomplete sentences by overworked literary agents. (Please note that I said “overworked” literary agents. I'm sure they are very polite people, however, their hectic schedules sometimes preclude the possibility of pleasantries and proper grammar.)

But in the end, this is all just part of the process. And as I start to get wave after wave of rejection letters, I calmly remind myself that tomorrow is a new day, and every rejection letter brings me closer to that one literary agent willing to take the chance and say, “Yes, I will represent your cookbook.”  

Duchess Turnips

Duchess Turnips

It's often said that we eat with our eyes. Well, if that holds true, then perhaps the best way to get the kids to eat turnip is to simply change their appearance - a sort of vegetable masquerade with everything in disguise. And that's exactly what I have done here. With only the addition of some egg and a tiny bit of re-seasoning, I can pass off some turnip purée as these delightful little bites.

serves 4

2 pounds turnip, peeled, steamed, and puréed

2-3 large egg yolks, plus 1 whole large egg

pinch nutmeg

Kosher salt, plus more for sprinkling

Freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon heavy cream

Fresh thyme leaves, for garnishing

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside. In a large mixing bowl, combine the turnip purée and 2 of the egg yolks, mixing well the thoroughly combine. Stir in the nutmeg and season to taste with salt and black pepper. The resulting mixture should be easily pipe-able. If it is too stiff, add the remaining egg yolk.

Transfer the mixture to a piping bag fitted with a large star tip. Pipe the turnip mixture out onto the prepared baking sheet into mounds, rotating the piping bag as you pipe to create a decorative swirling effect. Each mound should measure approximately 1½ inches wide and 1½ inches tall.

In a small bowl, beat together the remaining whole egg and the heavy cream. Carefully brush this mixture over the surface of each mound of turnip, being especially careful not to damage the decorative pattern created by the piping back.

Place in the preheated oven and bake until cooked through and lightly golden brown, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool slightly before sprinkling with additional salt and fresh thyme leaves.

T.G.I.F.

After a long week of [insert your occupation here], it is quite nice to spend Friday evening doing something fun with friends and family. Unless, of course, you are of the more antisocial persuasion. In which case, a quiet glass of wine and a personal ad in the local newspaper will be more to your liking. But assuming that you are like me – that is to say, a shameless ham with a home entertaining fixation – Friday night is a time to open up your home, mix up a large batch of cocktails, and kick back with those you love to share your workplace war stories, spread the town gossip, and laugh quite hysterically about your bosses hideous new toupee.

The Friday night party is a fun and easy way to kick off any relaxing weekend at home. But before you call up all your buddies for that next T.G.I.F.-aplooza, let me give you a few brief tips to help make the most of your Friday night:

• 
  
  Make one cash withdrawal from the ATM early in the evening (preferably while sober), and then lock up your debit card in a safe location. This will ensure your bank account will not be drained in some Friday night, alcohol-induced, Oreo-buying, shopping spree.
  
  
• 
  
  I've said it before, and I'll say it again – stock up on ketchup, beer, and toilet paper.
  
  
• 
  
  Set the bar up next to the front door and serve guests immediately as they arrive. This will save you the time and energy of cleaning the house before the party. Let's be honest here, if the guests get tipsy in the entryway, they're never going to notice the clutter in the living room.
  
  
• 
  
  Buy plenty of disposable painter's drop clothes and use them to cover - the carpets, the furniture, the pets... pretty much anything that red wine can stain.
  
  
• 
  
  And if you can't pawn the children off on the grandparents for the night, then be sure to set up a kid-friendly room. Pitching a tent underneath the dining room table and stocking it up with fun games, noisy foods, and a greased up piglet should keep them entertained for the evening - while also preventing them from seeing/hearing any of your Friday night indiscretions.

And now that you know the basics of Friday night partying, feel free to pick up the phone and invite some buddies over tonight. You'll be glad you did. Err... Well... You'll be glad you did until you Saturday morning - when you start to scrape the slices of pizza off the ceiling, roll your still intoxicated friend, Jerry, out onto the curb, and shampoo the merlot out of your cat's fur.   

Candy, Candy, Candy

Halloween is perhaps my favorite holiday. And though I realize it is still over a month away, I cannot help but discuss my admiration for Halloween in today's blog posting. You see, after a recent visit to my local grocery store, I discovered that this year's Halloween candy has already hit the store shelves. And if there is one thing I love more than the annual Halloween party, it is the annual Halloween candy binge.

You see, I'm resolute in my belief that Halloween should be a month-long celebration of teeth-rotting proportions. And though I'm sure that statement just sent shivers up the backbones of every dentist in the country through some almost Luke Skywalker-ian disturbance in the dental Force, it is my belief that consuming almost gluttonous amounts of candy at this time of year is not only preferable, but necessary.

The candy companies are doing their best to come up with the most gruesome, delicious, teeth-rotting candies possible to make everyone's Halloween an epic night of sugar-induced ADHD and chocolate-fueled trickery. So it seems only proper to reward those company's hard work by purchasing the chocolate bats, the gummy spiders, and the blood-centered jaw breakers, and start the festivities early. After all, Halloween does only come once every year, so why not enjoy it? Besides, if all your teeth fall out from the excessive candy consumption, you can always stop by the local drug store and pick up a festive pair of vampiric dentures to replace the teeth you've lost.

Just a Spoonful of Vinegar Makes the Medicine Go Down

It's rather ironic that yesterday I rambled on about the numerous positive attributes of a good moldy cheese, and today I find myself scrubbing everything down with a stiff-bristled brush and vinegar for fear of mildew. I guess alluding to less than appealing bathroom sanitation yesterday has given me a temporary case of mycophobia (or the fear of mushrooms, mold, and the like). But no matter the reason for my irrational fit of shower scrubbing, I found inspiration for today's blog post on the back of a bottle of disinfecting cider vinegar.

You see, cider vinegar has been used for thousands of years as an all-natural cure-all, treating everything from upset stomach to arthritis. And though I think I'll probably consult my doctor first before bathing in the stuff to treat that next sunburn, I think it is fascinating to see all the uses cider vinegar producers have found for their product over the years. In fact, just to share some of the list with you, cider vinegar has been used to treat: leg cramps, control appetite, relieve coughing, reduce sore throat pain, improve memory, remove corns, treat burns, cure the common cold, and prevent foreign accent syndrome (a medical condition in which the sufferer's accent changes to that of another language). Ok, so I made that last one up. But it is interesting nonetheless.

Of course, I wouldn't advise you to start chugging bottles of cider vinegar to clear up that acne. But I must admit, I have a new respect for that tart little bottle of vinegar. And perhaps it deserves a more prominent spot in my refrigerator, as a reminder of its medicinal properties. After all, one can never tell when one will develop a case of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome (a medical condition in which the sufferer perceives his or her surroundings to be shrinking or growing) and need a quick swig of vinegar to bring everything back down to size. 

Have You Had Your Mold Today?

Did you know that September is National Mold Awareness Month? Ok, so probably not. Somehow I doubt your shower mildew does much celebrating. (Or at least, I would hope not. It might prove difficult to shampoo your hair with the shower fungus partying like frat boys.) But poor bathroom sanitation aside, I choose to celebrate this great month by enjoying some of life's moldiest foods - blue cheeses.

Blue cheeses can be made of cow's, sheep's, or goat's milk, range in color from moldy blue to... moldy bluish-green, and are known for their distinctly delicious aroma. Some of my particular favorites are Gorgonzola, Blue Castello, and Maytag Blue (from the same Maytags who brought us the washing machines and dryers). But in all honestly, I'll probably eat just about any intentionally moldy cheese. (Please note the use of the word “intentionally.” Though I must admit to the occasional ingestion of subpar dairy product, I would only recommend eating intentionally moldy cheeses. It's just safer that way. After all, the mold used in most blue cheeses is actually a variant of Penicillin.)

I like to serve blue cheeses with slices of pear, candied walnuts, and a drizzle of honey. It is great sprinkled on top of basically any form of beef. And most blue cheeses can easily be mashed up into a delightful toast-point-topping smear for the fancier National Mold Awareness Month shindigs. But no matter your preferred culinary usage, I hope you will join me this month in celebrating Cheddar's ugly stepsisters - the blue cheeses.

Leftover Chili

Leftover Chili

Whenever I'm served Leftover Chili, or leftover casserole or parfait for that matter, a wave of suspicion inevitably passes through my stomach. With all those pungent spices muddling up the mix, one has to ask if a bit of culinary foul play is afoot. It appears to be chili with beans and leftover beef, but what other leftovers have found their way in under the mask of chipotle chilies, coriander, and cumin? Perhaps a few Brussels sprouts, a dash of turnip, and a pinch of roasted potatoes? Who knows.

Serves 6 to 8

1 cup dried black beans, picked over and rinsed

1 cup dried red kidney beans, picked over and rinsed

2-4 dry chipotle chilies, seeds removed and coarsely chopped

2-4 chipotle chilies en adobo sauce, coarsely chopped

2 cups Homemade Beef Stock (see page #)

1 large white onion, peeled and chopped

2 tablespoons olive oil

6 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced

1½ pounds leftover roast beef, or other cooked beef, cut into ½-inch cubes

1 tablespoon cumin

1 tablespoon dried epizote, or dried oregano

1 teaspoon coriander

1 teaspoon kosher salt

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 15-ounce cans diced tomatoes

Avocado, peeled, stone removed, and diced, for garnish

Fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish

Monterey Jack cheese, grated, for garnish

Sour cream, for garnish

Combine the beans in a stockpot. Fill the pot with water, covering the beans by at least 2 inches. Set the pot on the stove and bring to a boil over high heat. Then, remove from the heat and cover, allowing to set for at least 2 hours, or until the beans have absorbed some of the water and swelled.

Meanwhile, toast the dry chipotle chilies in a dry sauté pan over high heat until very hot and lightly browned, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer the chilies to a blender and combine with the chipotle chilies en adobo sauce and the beef stock. Purée in the blender. Generally, small bits of the chilies will remain in the purée. You can leave them in if you like or strain them out. Set aside.

In a stockpot set over medium-high heat, sweat the onions in the olive oil until translucent, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook an additional minute. Toss in the beef and cook, stirring occasionally, until the beef is browned on all sides. Then, add the cumin, epizote, coriander, salt, and pepper. Toast the spices for a minute before stirring in the tomatoes. Using a wooden spoon, scrape up any bits that are stuck to the bottom of the pan. Then, add the reserved chipotle and stock mixture, as well as the soaked beans. If necessary, add water to the pot to cover. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Partially cover the pot and continue to simmer, stirring occasionally and adding water if necessary, until the beans are soft and the beef is falling apart, about 1½ hours. Then, remove from the heat and cool slightly.

To serve, divide into bowls and garnish with some avocado, cilantro, cheese, and sour cream.

Spatchcock-ing Time

The other day, I had a friend (who shall be known from here on as... Anita Bath – purely in the interest of protecting the innocent, of course) ask me how to properly grill a chicken. So I set off a ramblin' about seasoning mixtures, grill temperatures, and the like before nonchalantly instructing Anita to “spatchcock the bird.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anita asked with an expression best described as disgustedly intrigued.

Now, I'll admit, I may have played innocent for a moment out of curiosity for what she would say next. But let me be honest here - I'm well aware of the connotations that the word “spatchcock” brings to mind. I did just finish cooking school, after all – a place where having one's mind in the gutter is not only helpful, but often requisite. In fact, I don't really remember a class when a culinary student didn't shove something inappropriate up a chicken's... cavity? (Yeah, let's just stick with cavity for the purposes of this blog.) But I digress.

“You want me to... spatchcock... the chicken? How do I... I mean... Is that... sanitary?” Anita Bath whispered to me.

“Oh, it's quite sanitary. I do it all the time,” I replied, drowning my laughter with a sip of water.

Well... long story, short, we went on like this for a few moments until I finally told her the true definition of “spatchcock-ing.” You see, the word “spatchcock” is believed to have originated in Ireland, and is a corruption of the phrase “dispatch the cock,” meaning to butcher a rooster and prepare it for dinner.

But for the purposes of chicken grilling, when a chef of cookbook instructs you to “spatchcock the bird,” what he/she/it really means is to cut out the chicken's backbone with a sturdy pair of kitchen shears, flip the bird over so it rests breast-side-up, and then press down on the bird to break the sternum and squash the bird flat. It helps reduce cooking time, as well as allows the entire bird to get beautifully golden, grill-marked, and crispy skin.

Of course, if you have an aversion to dissecting your dinner in such a way, most butchers will be happy to “spatchcock” a chicken or two for you. Just be careful when requesting this of your butcher. “Spatchcock” is a relatively old and unused word. And I take no responsibility should the relationship between you and your butcher become awkward because of someone's dirty mind.

Going to the Dogs

Once again, I find myself with little time to write. It is one of those days occupied by my honey-do list - much to my disappointment. But the laundry does need to be done, the groceries do need to be bought, and the dog desperately needs to be bathed. So I shall keep today's posting brief. (I wouldn't want you to think that I forgot about you, after all.) And since I brought up the topic of dogs, I think it's only appropriate to provide you with these few brief tips to help you successfully entertain man's best friend:

• Never feed a dog: chocolate, raisins or grapes, avocados, onions, garlic, or mushrooms.
  
  
• Hide everything breakable, chewable, stainable, or otherwise resembling grass, fire hydrants, or your neighbor's newspaper.
  
  
• Don't invite any poodles to the party – they are always prima donnas.
  
  
• Remind all the great danes that toy dog breeds (such as yorkies and maltese) are not actual chew toys.
  
  
• And if you need a moment to yourself, put the dogs outside with a big ol' bowl of peanut butter – that'll keep them silently occupied for a quite a while.

And now that you know these key tips, feel free to celebrate Butch's birthday, Spike's sweet sixteen, and Sir Barksalot's bar mitzvah. I promise you, it will be a lot of fun.

A Little Fruity

I'm surprised to find myself talking about the same subject again today (my mind rarely works quite so linearly). But as I began my research into the vegan diet, I discovered a... unique subset of people. This group, which refers to itself as the fruitarians, believes that humans should return to a diet of fruits, nuts, and seeds. Which is a diet that some fruitarians believe to be the original menu at Chez Garden of Eden.

Now don't get me wrong – I'm a resolute believer in the live and let live philosophy of life. Yet, the idea of this fruitarian diet does make my head and stomach hurt. Imagine a world without wheat or rice, without potatoes or lettuce. It sends shivers up my spine. But then again the thought of a world without bacon makes me hyperventilate, so perhaps I'm not the best person to talk to about this matter.

Now, all my personal beliefs aside, I've learned that some fruitarians believe that eating an apple that didn't fall naturally from the tree is tantamount to murder in the first degree. Others say that eating seeds is the horticultural equivalent of abortion – killing the yet unhatched offspring of a plant. And some others refuse to consume honey, calling it the subjugation and exploitation of honey bees.

I suppose such questions of morality are up to each of us to decide for ourselves. All I can really say on this matter is – I don't care if eating the seeds of the cacao tree is comparable to horticultural abortion, exploitation, murder, or some form of fruit-slaughter. Nothing is ever going to stop me from eating my chocolate bars.

Class Five Fennel Chompers

I once worked in a restaurant where vegan customers were referred to as Class Five Fennel Chompers. (Of course, nobody ever said that to their faces – that would just be rude. It was more of a joke among the restaurant's service staff.) But all the joking aside, I often wondered why vegans are often looked down upon by culinarians. You would think that a kitchen-full of people passionate about food would take the vegan diet as a great and interesting challenge. How many things can I do with this head of lettuce? What new recipe can I develop using only radishes? How do I substitute green grapes for roast beef? Maybe it is just me, but those are quite interesting questions.

So I am still left with the question – why do chefs avoid vegans? Where does this phobia come from? And I think the answer lies in how a chef is trained. I do not recall being formally trained in cooking à la vegan. (Note that I said – I do not recall. It might have happened, and I just missed it along with that lecture on rice cakes and the somewhat tipsy endings of pretty much every wine-tasting class.) But in the end, chefs are not genuine vegan-bashers. We (in many cases) simple do not possess the necessary information to accommodate the needs of our vegan clientele.

And so having learned this about myself and the industry, I do believe I will now set out to learn what I can about the vegan diet. I'm not going to say I will necessarily try it (let's face it, I love meat way too much for that). But I do believe I have the time to read a cookbook or two on the topic. And with a little luck, the next time a vegan sits down at my dinner table, I'll have something better to serve him/her than steamed cabbage.

Turkey Italian Wedding Soup

Turkey Italian Wedding Soup

I imagine you're looking at the lengthy list of ingredients below and thinking this recipe is pretty involved, but really it's surprisingly simple. Thanks to the food processor, the meatballs can be thrown together quite quickly, and aside from some time spent simmering, the soup goes together even faster. These Italians really know how to simplify wedding catering.

serves 6 to 8

MEATBALLS

8 ounces ground turkey

8 ounces sweet Italian sausage, casings removed and coarsely chopped

½ cup breadcrumbs

¼ cup Parmesan cheese, finely grated

¼ cup Pecorino Romano cheese, finely grated

¼ cup yellow onion, peeled and minced

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

¾ teaspoon ground sage

½ teaspoon kosher salt

pinch freshly ground black pepper

¼ cup olive oil

ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP

1 cup yellow onion, peeled and chopped

1 cup carrot, peeled and cut into ¼-inch rounds

1 cup leek, washed, white and light-green parts thinly sliced

½ cup celery, cut into ¼-inch pieces

¼ cup olive oil

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

2½ quarts Homemade Turkey Stock, or low-sodium, canned chicken broth

3 cups soaked and drained white cannellini beans, or two 15-ounce cans

3 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped

2 bay leaves

8 ounces (about 1 small bunch) escarole, large stems removed and leaves coarsely chopped

1 cup, dried tubetini pasta

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

To make the meatballs, pulse the ground turkey and sausage together in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade attachment until well mixed. Still pulsing the food processor, incorporate the breadcrumbs, cheeses, onion, and garlic. Add the egg, followed by the parsley and sage, pulsing to combine. Season with salt and black pepper.

Form the meatballs by taking 1 tablespoon of the turkey mixture and rolling it between your hands into a firm ball. Continue to form the meatballs until all the turkey mixture is used. You should have about 2 dozen meatballs.

In a large skillet, heat the ¼ cup of olive oil over medium-high heat. Add some of the meatballs to the skillet, being sure not to crowd the meatballs into the skillet. Allow the meatballs to brown, turning them so they brown evenly on all sides, about 4 to 5 minutes. Then, remove the meatballs to a separate container. The meatballs will not be cooked through. Continue to brown the remaining meatballs in batches.

To make the soup, combine the onion, carrots, leek, and celery with the olive oil in a large stockpot. Set the pot over medium heat and cook, stirring often, until the onions are translucent, about 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and continue to cook for 1 minute. Add the stock, beans, parsley, and bay leaves and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and add the prepared turkey meatballs. Allow the soup to simmer until the meatballs are cooked through.

Once the meatballs have cooked, add the escarole to the simmering soup. Cover the pot and allow the escarole to wilt into the soup, 4 to 5 minutes. Then, uncover the soup and add the pasta. Continue to simmer until the pasta is tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Remove the bay leaves and discard. Then, season the soup with salt and black pepper.

Cracking Eggs

Needing to run out the door quite early this morning, I will keep today's posting brief. What is up with that EZ Cracker? Have you seen that infomercial yet? It's that newfangled kitchen gadget that costs about $20 and solves that age old question – how to safely crack an egg.

Yeah... Don't get me wrong - I love kitchen gadgets. But I do believe every child learns that particular skill (with much relish) at a very young age. And though the result might not always be pretty or clean, I hardly think anyone really needs to spend $20 for a mechanical egg cracker.

But if there are any readers out there who haven't quite mastered the art of egg cracking, let me offer you this advice: if all else fails, toss the eggs into a bowl, smash them up with a potato masher, and strain out the shells.

A Pickle Predicament

As anyone who gardens can tell you, fresh vegetables wait for no man. When they have matured, you must harvest them and proceed with one of the following three options:

• consume or preserve
• give away or attempt to sell
• unceremoniously toss into the compost pile to feed next year's crop of gargantuan zucchini

Preferring the first option (not that I have a problem with sharing the crop with friends, family, and the worms/bacteria/and occasional raccoons that rummage about the compost pile), I decided to tackle the cucumbers this morning. And with several baskets of the watery gourds (and yes, cucumbers actually are a member of the gourd family) sitting on the porch for the past few days, I decided to make pickles.

My family happens to love pickles in most (if not all) of their forms. And yet, we seem to be rather alone in that regard. Most people curl their noses up at the sight of the briny spears, preferring to eat a fresh cucumber or nothing at all. Which I think is rather a shame. With so many types of pickles being made from an even larger number of cucumber varieties, it is difficult to believe that a person can feel such a vehement disregard for the pickled treats. And yet, so many do.

Upon further consideration of this question of pickle prejudice, I am left with only one conclusion – it's not that people don't like the pickle, it's that people don't trust the pickler. Who are these people, after all? How can they transform a soon-to-spoil cucumber into a shelf-stable pickle? Why should I trust them? And perhaps even more to the point – what are these people really putting into that vinegary brine (be it intentionally or otherwise)? Let's face it, that listing of “herbs and spices” on the label hardly tells you the information you really want to know. Just ask any college student and he or she will tell you that a variety of potentially dangerous “herbs” have a nasty tendency of sneaking into... special - brownie, cupcake, and even taco recipes.

Unfortunately, I do not have a solution for this apparent distrust for the lowly pickler. And the only advice I can offer is to prepare your own pickled cucumbers. At least in that way, you can trust the pickler and give the vinegary delights, a second chance.

Pardon Me

Did you know that September 8^th is National Pardon Me Day? Well, it is, and has been since September 8^th, 1974. Which if you remember back to high school history class that was the day President Ford pardoned President Nixon. (But then again, I don't really expect you to remember such details. To be honest, most of my high school memories revolve around my desire to grow a beard and some rather awkward pep band moments.)

Regardless of the history behind today's holiday, it is a day to say pardon me for all the inappropriate things you have done &/or will be doing. And since for many of us that list of indiscretions is despairingly long (and I mean - shaving the cat and dabbing Tabasco Sauce on your younger brother's lips while he slept - long), I composed a simple and straightforward greeting card that should suffice.

All you need to do is purchase a blank greeting card (or cards, depending upon your level of guilt), inscribe the simple message provided below, and hand deliver it to all those you have wronged this year.

Pardon Me

Oh, pardon me for impaling you that one time with my car key.

Pardon me for feeding my pet goat your favorite fig tree.

Pardon me for passing gas at your daughter's birthday party.

Oh pardon me, pardon me.

Oh, pardon me for kicking you in the back of your bad knee.

Pardon me for comparing your voice to that of a banshee.

Pardon me for that time at your aunt's funeral when I yelled out whoopee!

Oh pardon me, pardon me.

Oh, pardon me for that time I burnt down your Christmas tree.

Pardon me for serving you that steaming cup of mustard tee.

Pardon me for laughing when you got stung by that killer bee.

Oh pardon me, pardon me, pardon me.

Back-to-Work Time

Despite Hurricane Earl's best efforts, my family and I had a rather delightful (albeit windy) Labor Day weekend. And like most Americans returning to work today after a relaxing weekend of rain-drenched barbeques, hail-sprinkled ice cream sundaes, and the requisite science-fiction movie marathon, I find myself dragging. I have a pile of reading to do (more research for my cookbook proposal) and no ambition to do any of it. And so in the interest of motivating myself and others like me, I drafted the following list. Consider it a guide to post-Labor Day entertaining (or at the very least, post-Labor Day working). So here goes:

• Prepare for the coming winter by sweeping your chimney, installing your storm windows, cleaning out your gutters, reshingling your roof, insulating your attic, sealing your patio/deck/driveway/etc. with an appropriate sealant, bringing your farm animals inside, releasing your pet parrakeet to migrate south, and purchasing a giant poster of a sandy beach to help you maintain your sanity through the snowy winter months.
  
  
• Ask yourself what hobbies you will adopt this winter. Purchase and read any necessary books on the topic. Then, stock up on whatever equipment or materials you may need, such as satin sheets, massage oils, and that new sewing machine you've had your eye on.
  
  
• Ignore anyone who tells you not to wear white after Labor Day. Sure that white faux fur parka might make you look somewhat like a yeti, but that is no reason to succumb to peer pressure.
  
  
• Stock up on beer, ketchup, and toilet paper – they're still quite necessary despite the cooling temperatures.

• And again - don't forget about the children. Even though they are back in school, they still need to be entertained from time to time. And though the summertime beach balls and kites have little place in the frozen wasteland of winter, a greased-up piglet is still as much fun no matter the time of year.

And now that you know the basics of post-Labor Day entertaining/working – get back to work!

Labor Day Entertaining

With Labor Day just around the corner, I couldn't rightly go into the weekend without providing you with just a few tips to make your holiday entertaining a great success. (My cookbook - CELEBRATE: Food for Life's Special Occasions - is, after all, a book about holiday entertaining, including Labor Day.) So, here we go:

• Always make sure your mussels, clams, and crabs are well scrubbed. Nothing ruins that Labor Day clambake more than sandy clams.
  
  
• Don't forget to provide some form of entertainment for any children who might be attending your holiday party. Beach balls, kites, and even a greased-up piglet will entertain the children for hours.
  
  
• Stock up on beer, ketchup, and toilet paper.
  
  
• If you are a guest of a Labor Day party, be sure to bring your host/hostess a small gift, to thank him/her for inviting you. Beer, ketchup, and toilet paper make great and practical gifts.
  
  
• And finally, if you are playing the part of The Bride this holiday weekend, be sure to dress appropriately. (This is particularly true if you are marrying somewhere along the Eastern Seaboard.) A pair of shorts, long johns, or even a wetsuit worn underneath your wedding dress can help avoid that embarrassing moment when Hurricane Earl's strong winds blow your dress up around your head.

Now that you know the basics of Labor Day entertaining, enjoy your weekend. I'll see you back here on Tuesday.

Checkmate?

Perhaps the greatest challenge of any wannabe author is the mind games we must play. (And I'm not talking about those memory games we all play when we go to the grocery store. “Ok... I need Milk, Ugli fruit, and Depends - M.U.D. That's easy enough to remember. I'm going to the grocery store to buy mud.”) The mind games that I am referring to are those inner conflicts between your passion for writing and your better judgment. It's a battle of wills, and to the victor go the spoils (the spoils of course being - the right to choose what direction your life takes). And most days the fighting is silenced by diving head-first into the craft of writing. But other days, the conflict consumes your thoughts. Unfortunately today is the latter.

This morning (like every morning), I woke up, turned on my computer, and said to myself – I like my cookbook. I truly believe the recipes are well conceived, the writing is entertaining, and the photos are beautiful (even with their realistic flaws). And yet as I watched my family go off to their more traditional jobs, I couldn't help but think – what am I doing with my life?!?! Volunteer firemen make more money than this! Perhaps I should just go and find a nice quiet job at some bakery and... make the donuts. That always seemed to work for Dunkin' Donuts fellow. What was his name? Fred the Baker?

Days like today, can be difficult. But then again, every job has its challenges, every employee has his bad days, and every writer has his faith that tomorrow will be the day. Tomorrow will be the day my name will be in print.

Cookbooks, Bringing Singles Together Since 100AD.

Being rather preoccupied with drafting my book proposal, I suppose I shall keep tonight's posting brief.

Did you know that a recent (recent as in sometime during the past decade) American Express survey of 1,003 New Yorkers between the ages of 25 and 35 identified Barnes & Noble as one of the city's best places to pick up chicks/studs? It's true! Apparently, a bookstore is a nonthreatening place, where single people of at least reasonable education can meet, make small talk (most likely over a cup of coffee provided at one of the convenient in-store cafes), swap contact information, and kick off that something special (be it longterm or otherwise).

And it is my belief that the best place to meet that special someone à la bookstore is in the cookbook aisle. Let's face it, everyone likes a partner who can cook. So why not find her/him while she/he shops for cookbooks (or at the very least, pretends to shop for cookbooks in the hopes of attracting you)? Really, I think bookstores could stand to benefit from this trend. Perhaps they could create a sort of singles bar and serve cocktails while people flirt over copies of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I would certainly go to a place like that. I think lots of people would.

But before any of you singles rush out to your local bookseller in search of that next hot date, let me first give you this word of warning: Be sure to look at the titles of the books before picking any of them up. Nothing kills the mood of love at first sight like The Guide to Cooking with Irritable Bowel Syndrome.