Pickled Rhubarb and a Couscous Salad

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

-It was too pretty to Instagram since I had light and wasn't cooking in the middle of the night.-

We seem to a be a nation that has no problem pickling anything. We pickle eggs and that seems strange and terrifying until you try one. We pickle asparagus knowing full well it will make your pee even worse that eating it unpickled. String beans which are then renamed to dilly beans. Cauliflower; always with curry. And recently I have discovered pickled cherries, which may very well revolutionize the Manhattan and the martini.

Pickling and preserving books are now all the rage. It seems there's always a new one every few months purporting to be the end-all, be-all cookery book for packing your pickles.

However, this vinegar-fueld enthusiasm seems to have looked over humble rhubarb. Lovingly discarded like a stuffed animal still on your adult bed out of filial duty and not because you sleep with it, rhubarb is and forever will be in most minds the "pie plant".

How I Fight with Family: Spring Quinoa Salad + Giveaway!!!

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

-You are wrong because I am right.-

Heads Up: Giveaway is at the bottom of this post. If you're feeling all TL;DR about it then scroll away!

My family is a family who has passes on an astounding gift through the generations: that of always being right. This often comes with other genetic traits such as blue eyes, nearsightedness, sweating the small stuff, never letting it go, and having the last word in the conversation.

It's fine and dandy if only one person an average family inherits these genes because the other family members can learn to roll it off their backs with a sigh and intimate reminders to each other that "It's just how he is."

However, when every single member of the family is assured by The Universe that his or her opinion (read: authority) is not only the logical one but also, unquestionably, the most right one as decided by said Universe it can only lead to debate. One that often accumulates in wondering how this person could possibly be related to you when they are so utterly wrong. Probably about everything ever.

All this goes without ever realizing that the other person is thinking the exact same thing.

Oh, the family resemblance is more than skin deep.

As such, I've developed unique methods of arguing with each family member. Though methods might not be the best word...

Tactics. Yes. Tactics is appropriate...

Cookbook Tour Advice: Rhubarb Scones

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

-Smile all the time. Even when you are tired of smiling.-

For those aspiring cookbook writers or for those about to go on their first book tour allow me to offer some helpful advice I wish I had been given.

Shit happens. Roll With It.

I had an event where after plenty of email communication it still went to hell.

The venue insisted that they did not want to sell books themselves so I organized a third party bookseller, a locally owned mom-n-pop shop, to come in and sell the books instead.

Unknown?: Port Royal Sugar Cookies

Monday, March 24, 2014

-That thing that apparently no one but me has heard of…-

Years ago when I was traveling through Europe, my brother and I having gotten tired of the hot springs and quaint village scene, which apparently can happen, took a day to ourselves and hopped a dilapidated train under a stainless steel sky from Baden to Vienna.  At 17 and 19 we did what most teenagers in Europe did: went to the museums, toured the architecture, and quoted lines from Faust at the statue of Goethe. Obviously.

Such wild, irresponsible rigamarole characteristic of our heathen-like ages took a toll and we were forced to finally put down our saddlebags and sparkling waters (something that at that age we drank with reluctance as still water cost at least another one of the curious new Euros) and decided that food was in order.

At the time I had little interest in food and if I have a regret it's not treating myself to some truly glorious meals through Europe. A sin, really, but I suppose it's one more reason to visit again someday. Rather than go to a cafe or restaurant where my appalling French and our collective total lack of German would likely embarrass us all into a blush-colored puddle we agreed that a nearby pastry shop would be the best option. Not wanting to appear too terribly American we could easily look through display, point, and then pay without more than a simple, "Danke!"

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