Back to Basics. Making crepes.

-Pastry perfection.-

I tend to be wary of crepes. I love them, but I just happen to have a habit of burning them as if I were knitting tissue paper over an open flame. Dodgy business these crepes.

Admittedly, at times I have a tendency to simply skirt away from certain challenges as if stealing away from disapproving parents in the middle of the night, not bothering to even leave a note. Most of my life I'm happy to meet a challenge. Yet there are always those lesser confrontations; ones where neither your future nor your reputation on the line. Some of them don't even bother to address you, instead happy to lay a deck chair out in the middle of the road and wait for you to drive around them simply because, let's face it, it's easier for both of you that way.

Stupid Raccoon: Earl Grey & Kumquat Marmalade

-The perfect cure for the busy mind.-

We took down the Christmas tree today, an event that has as much joy as getting your bits waxed. Down came the teddy bear advent calendar I grew up with. The mistletoe - which didn't see nearly enough action - was removed from the foyer. The mantelpiece was de-garlaned. The tree's bobbles and strings were delicately removed and tucked into boxes with a throw-n-go method. The tree itself, a marvelous Martha Stewart fake that could fool even the most scrutinous botanist if not for the lights miraculously growing from its branches, was packed away.

Once stored and shelved for the next eleven months the husband and I went out to the garage for the comfy sack - a large beanbag chair of sorts. It's filled with foam pellets instead of those crappy polyurethane beads that exploded over many a living room in the 80s, and upholstered in a chocolate microsuede cover. Quite fun. Extremely comfortable. I highly recommend it if you want a touch of whimsy in your home.

It was also, apparently, very peed on.

A Simple List: Celery, Almond, Blue Cheese Salad

-The first meal of 2014. Some French blue cheese called Fourme d'Ambert and a bit of fresh celery from the Asian farmers' market in downtown Sacramento.-

I like to wrap up the years on this blog by going through resolutions for the coming year and reflecting on ones that we're about to nail up in the coffin. I usually make a list of resolutions and try to hold myself publicly accountable because, well, someone god damn has to.

However, this year was a rather busy year. There was the hunt, purchase, and complete remodel of the house down to the studs and then building it back up. That consisted of a lot of work with a contractor, hosing down asbestos, hammering in floors, painting every surface, and moving (which, I'm pretty sure is God's way of proving that he's not always going to help so much as sit back and laugh). Not to mention the process had a few extra surprises like having to mug my bank account to buy a new furnace and having homeless people break in and jerk off on the wall. 

Then there was the book. Two and half years of pregnancy defined by a constant craving for carbs and dairy followed by a well-publisized birth defined by excellent reviews and a minor bit of critique. After that, Melt's mother and I paraded him up and down the West Coast like the proud parents we are. Admittedly, he's all grown up and while we love him I feel Melt is like a high school grad: it's time for him to move the fuck out of my house and get a job or go to college. 

Not that we won't support him. We still have more events coming in 2014. Woo!

So what's this year?

Well, I'd like to keep it simple to be honest.

When You Hit the Christmas Party Scene: Cocoa Graham Corgis

-Cutest cookies ever.-

I don't care much for office Christmas parties. Half the time they're too tame and boring as you play an all too obvious game of Secret Santa where you likely get paired with the one person who wraps up a corn dog from the AM-PM in an old expense report. The other half of the time they're bacchanalian sinfests that would put Caligula to shame, which is saying a lot for a man who had sex with his consul, Incitatus (who, by the way, was also his horse).

It feels like a bit of a lose-lose situation. One you want to shoot yourself in the head because it won't end, and the other ends up with pictures of you on Tumblr and becoming an overnight meme because you thought wearing a Santa beard and mistletoe pasties was such an awesome idea. There generally doesn't seem to be a whole lot of joy at these parties or in the morning after should you be conscious.

This is probably just my opinion.

I'm not grinchy. Far from it. I'm the person who loves to celebrate Christmas, but I just have a thing against drinking heavily with co-workers or even hanging out with them outside of work. I feel that my day job professional sphere and my personal sphere are two very different spaces that should remain separate by both miles and personal connections. As Doctor Egon Spengler once said, "Don't cross the streams." I simply feel that though my life is very public what with book, blog, and social media the more intimate details of my life best left unknown to the people I have to borrow files from.

Plans This Winter: Roasted Garlic

-Garlic is an important part of every meal. Every meal.-

I'm finally back from my West Coast torture that I've been genially calling the Book Tour.

Touring is a strange affair. For years I had in my head I this Carrie Bradshaw-esque image of flitting across the nation. I would be reading to packed rooms, staying in quaint hotels that have a better than average continental breakfast (the kind where loose leaf tea and scones from the bakery down the street are served), and meeting people who love food and books and who want to talk to me about both as I scrawl illegible messages in their just-purchased copies. All of this, of course, on the publisher's dollar and in a private car.

I'm sad to report that this is all only about half true. Unless you're Ina Garten or J.K. Rowling you are on your own. The publisher may help with some event logistics at best and when you get to Seattle the publisher will happily email you a link to the city's bus system website so you can putter around town all the better. (That dollar-fifteen bus fare is on you, though.) Many events you go to the author had to craft together his-or-herself from far away and totally over the phone. It is tough so be forgiving next time you see a cookbook author trying to smile through the chaos.

To be frank the entirety of it rests on you.

Not to say there aren't great events or wonderful perks to it all. Some events are planned by others and all I had to do was show up. Recipes from the book were prepared by eager volunteers who had an excitement for cheese, the kind where they likely had a wheel of Brie at home in the fridge. These events were packed with cheese connoisseurs, readers of this blog or Stephanie's, or perhaps had just heard about it through the many various foodie networks that buzz underneath society like bees dancing a map to the next food truck party or restaurant opening.