I’ve been doing a lot of tinkering lately, with great success.  Inspired by a recipe for baklava with cherries and chocolate, I turned my traditional baklava into a Thanksgiving-worthy delight by adding dried cranberries to the nut mixture and drizzling cranberry-infused syrup on top.  Not only did it turn the baklava a rich ruby, it provided a welcome tang to offset the sweetness.

Next up was a sweet strata with panettone, Granny Smith apples, walnuts and cranberries for my monthly “Guinea Pig” gathering.  Each month a group of chefs gathers to test out recipes on one another based upon a theme.  In keeping with Christmas, we chose red and green food.  However, salads were verboten (we had to show more creativity).  I originally signed up for a savory dish, but all I could think of was quiche or crépes — both of which I’ve made several times.  I then remembered the panettone French toast I prepared for a Christmas brunch last year and decided to give the strata a try.  I added a bit of maple syrup to the custard (milk and eggs), tossed it with the cubed panettone, fruit and nuts and baked it for about 45 minutes.

But my greatest achievement?  The Elvis ice cream.

When a couple of my friends announced they were preparing a vegetarian meal for our bi-monthly dinner, I thought I’d be funny and try out David Lebovitz’ candied bacon ice cream for dessert (we’re all meat eaters, but apparently they thought a vegetarian meal would be healthier).  I bought some thick-sliced Applewood bacon from Whole Foods and followed David’s directions for candying it.  No, that’s not entirely true.  I overlooked his suggestion to place the bacon on a rack considering American bacon tends to be much fattier than the stuff he gets in Paris.  Much of the brown sugar melted off along with the fat.  I also left it in too long, resulting in charred sticks of slightly sweet bacon.  Mind you, my darling and I still ate it, but it wasn’t good enough to go into the ice cream.  I’d have to try again.

Since I had all the ingredients for the custard I started preparing it first thing in the morning to give it plenty of time to chill.  As per David’s instructions, I poured half of the half & half in a pan with the butter and sugar, and the rest in a bowl sitting in an ice bath.  As I grabbed my ice cube tray out of the freezer I spied my bag of frozen ripe bananas for smoothies.  My mind started whirling: bacon and bananas — isn’t that what Elvis liked to eat on his sandwiches?  A quick Google search revealed he preferred peanut butter and bananas, but he’d often add bacon as well.  I now had my recipe.

I thought about adding dollops of peanut butter to the ice cream toward the end (along with the diced candied bacon and banana bits), but decided to make it a peanut butter ice cream base with the bacon and bananas added in.  I stirred in about a half cup of creamy peanut butter to the hot custard until it melted, then whisked that mixture into the half & half in the ice bath.  I then let that cool while I went for a run.

As I ran I thought of ways to present the dessert to my friends.  I pictured a scoop of ice cream in either a martini or margarita glass, topped with a cookie or sweet wafer to carry out the sandwich theme.  But then phyllo came to mind, specifically, large phyllo cups baked in muffin tins.  I thought the crisp, buttery phyllo sheets would provide a nice textural contrast to the creamy ice cream.  But then it hit me — ice cream sandwiches; duh!

I wanted something rather neutral so the flavors of the ice cream would shine, and I found the perfect foil in butter waffles (they’re basically flat waffle cones).  I’ve since tried Nabisco’s Famous Chocolate Wafers with equal success (they provide a rich chocolaty flavor without overpowering the ice cream).  The true star, of course, is the ice cream.

For my second attempt at candying the bacon, I placed it on a rack and rendered off most of the fat before adding the brown sugar.  I also turned the bacon every 4-5 minutes until it was crisp and a deep mahogany.  I added both the bacon and the chopped banana at the very end of churning the ice cream (just enough to let it incorporate).  After letting the ice cream harden for about a half hour I spread it on the butter waffles and put them back in the freezer until ready to serve.

I loved how each flavor revealed itself.  First came the subtle peanut butter, followed by the banana.  Then came the smoky bacon with just a hint of saltiness.  It was an incredible combination eliciting several “oohs” and “ahs” from my friends.

Of course, just when I was patting my creative bad-ass self on the back I stumbled across two other takes on Elvis ice cream: one with peanut butter, bananas and bacon mixed into chocolate ice cream, and another — from a Seattle ice cream shop, no less — that tops peanut butter and banana ice cream with chocolate-covered bacon.

sigh

Some of the claims are outright absurd: drink a concoction of maple syrup, cayenne and lemon juice for 10 days straight? Puh-leaze! And don’t even get me started on the multitude of “supplements” being peddled, promising everything from detoxification to weight loss to increased sexual drive. I’m probably more turned off by the fact these are sold through multi-level marketing schemes (Amway, anyone?) than by the absurdity of their supposed health claims.

However, there’s something to be said for eating “clean.” As a marathoner I’ve become much more aware of how certain foods affect my performance. When I first started running, my long runs were an excuse to splurge on burgers, beer, fries and potato chips. No more; while I still allow myself certain indulgences, I aim for moderation.

That is, until September comes along.

I’ve written about this before — my holiday orgy that starts with the caramel apples and ends with popping champagne corks on New Year’s Eve. It happens without fail, despite my best intentions. I’m not sure which is worse: the inevitable weight gain, or the lethargy brought on by rich foods and far too much alcohol.

This year I swore I wouldn’t succumb. Sure, when I spied the Honey Crisps in the grocery store I soon was swaddling them in a gooey layer of caramel, but I thought I dodged the Halloween candy bullet. I resisted the urge to buy a bagful of candy corn, only to find a dish taunting me at one of my clients’. Since my darling and I spent All Hallow’s Eve at the Herbfarm, there was no need to buy candy to hand out to the neighborhood urchins; alas, the same client had purchased far too much and pleaded with me to take some off of their hands.

sigh

So as my 45th birthday approached, I knew I had to take some defensive action. While at my sister’s place on Vashon the weekend before I perused one of her cookbooks on whole foods cooking. It included a 10-day “detox” regimen, but this one seemed more reasonable given its reliance on “real” food, albeit in smoothie form. I knew there was no way I could follow it for 10 days (I’m in perpetual training, after all), but perhaps a couple of days’ of smoothies for breakfast and lunch, coupled with a lowfat dinner of lean protein, would be just the thing to cleanse my system of the holiday sugar.

I made my first smoothie from what I had on hand: frozen berries, vanilla soy milk and bananas. But for lunch I wanted to add some greens, so I picked up a bunch of organic kale at the market. Knowing I’d be “dining” on these for a couple of days, I decided to make a starter batch that I’d simply add to. While I’d recommend buying the freshest of ingredients, I figured this would be a great way to empty the contents of my crisper. A wilted bunch of cilantro? Why not? A couple of flaccid stalks of celery? What else am I going to do with them? A few carrot sticks? They’d provide a nice balance of sweetness. The dregs of the organic carrot juice? Ditto! They all went into the blender, along with a cup of kale, some ginger, orange juice and a handful of almonds.

I knew I’d be adding more fruit to this concoction, but I was curious to see how it tasted as is. It was quite vegetal, but not bad (the carrots and orange juice provided much-needed sweetness). The almonds were rather chunky still, but I didn’t mind the texture too much (I’ve now decided eating the almonds separately is the way to go). I Dinner that evening was herbed chicken en papillote with lemon. I continued to add to the concoction each day until it resembled swamp muck. But what tasty muck it was! My energy returned and I was thrilled to see I lost a couple of pounds to boot.

Of course, once my birthday rolled around and I started hitting the lemon drops, I was back to square 1.

But what to do with my newfound freedom? Do I lace up my running shoes for my scheduled 13-mile run? Do I continue yesterday’s cleaning streak and tackle the kitchen? Do I get a jump on my quarterly taxes and enter my bookkeeping for the past two months?

Nah. Where’s the fun in that?

While the weather was more reminiscent of late fall, my darling and I decided to break out the bikes for a long ride. Given our crazy-ass marathon schedule our feet and legs have been crying uncle. We figured a bit of cross-training would not only give our tired bodies a reprieve, it would be a fun diversion from our rigid plan.

Of course, what’s a bike ride without food? We toyed with packing a picnic lunch and heading to Chateau Ste. Michelle, but at 40+ miles roundtrip, the ride seemed daunting. Turning around at Tracy Owens Park trimmed it to a more reasonable 30 miles, but it also eliminated a scenic picnic spot.

My thoughts then turned to the ribeye steak in our fridge. Sprinkled with alder-smoked salt, grilled, sliced and placed on top of thick toasted whole grain bread with melted blue cheese and fresh arugula, it would be a perfect lunch after a long ride. What a decadent way to celebrate the last (unofficial) day of summer!

Restaurant reviewing enthralls me; I envision feasting night after night on tantalizing comestibles, paid with someone else’s dime, at tony bistros tucked into quaint pockets of the city.  Most likely the reality, while certainly not mundane, is far less glamorous.  (And call me shallow, I’m sure I would quickly tire of the inevitable weight gain).

Reviewing is a tricky business; your goal is to help the general public decide if they’ll enjoy the experience, but you’re also dealing with someone’s livelihood.  Good reviews can catapult a restaurant into the “hot spot” realm, while a bad review can signal its demise.  I ask myself, do I want that responsibility?

Restaurant reviews have proliferated thanks to blogging, yet the medium introduces another point of contention — is the review fair and balanced?  While traditional reviewers will visit a restaurant a minimum of two times before writing it up (and will never review it within the first few weeks of opening, unless it’s for a “first looks” write-up), many bloggers base their opinions on merely one visit (I’m guilty).  Not only is this practice unfair to the establishment, it’s a disservice to the readers.

Ethics aside, the craft of restaurant reviewing is much harder than it appears.  Describing the halibut as “delicious” offers little insight; you want your reader to feel they were dining with you.  Better to say, “the halibut — marinated in a zesty soy-chile marinade and flash-seared on the grill — was a perfect balance of crispy, golden brown exterior and melt-in-your-mouth interior.”  (Although I’m sure an editor would call out “melt-in-your mouth” as cliché).

You need to be an expert at noticing the details.  What’s the atmosphere like?  Was the waitstaff attentive?  Is parking accessible?  Are children welcomed or shunned? Are prices in line with the value?  Now imagine encapsulating this into a 300-word review.  Believe me, it ain’t easy.  (Of course, if you’re writing for your own blog, you have much more leeway).

As part of the food writing seminar, Kathleen Flinn tasked us with writing a review of our lunch spot on the second day.  Due to time constraints we merely wrote the first and last two sentences of our review, but our homework was to write one in full, keeping to the 300-word minimum.  My review of Boom Noodle follows.

Boom Noodle – 2 1/2 stars, $
1121 East Pike Street
Seattle, WA  98122
(206) 701-9130

Hours:
12-10 p.m. Sunday-Thursday
12 p.m.-2 a.m. Friday and Saturday

Slurping one’s noodles is the highest compliment in Japan, but staring into the steaming bowl of Shio Ramen at Boom Noodle, I resisted the urge.  More upscale than a typical noodle joint, Boom calls for decorum.

The interior’s open, clean lines feature dark wood veneered panels, tables and chairs contrasting with Granny Smith walls – Northwest meets Japan.  Most tables are communal seating for 10, although introverts can opt for the 2-seaters around the perimeter.  Service is swift, with knowledgeable servers who decipher the Asian ingredients.

We started with the edamame purée – a creamy dip served with unbelievably crisp Okinawa sweet potato chips and slices of cucumber and Japanese eggplant, and the curry potato korokke – crisp potato croquettes lightly infused with curry and served with ginger crème frâiche.  Each dish was visually stunning, with fresh, subtle flavors.

Boom offers a wide assortment of teas and adult beverages, as well as five non-alcoholic specialty drinks.  The Cucumber Mint Fizz is light and refreshing with a hue as verdant as the walls, while the Madison Sunrise blends freshly squeezed orange, carrot and beet juices with a hint of ginger and shiso.  With its deep, sultry layers of red and orange, perhaps “sunset” is more apropos.

But oh, the ramen!  I breathed in the earthy broth with heady anticipation, delighted with the fresh bay scallops – plump and plentiful – swimming alongside brilliant green wakame seaweed, fork tender chunks of chicken confit and custom-made ramen noodles.  It was a masterful symphony in a bowl, with no ingredient overpowering another.  Dessert was mango mousse, a velvety flan-like custard topped with diced fresh mango on a sea of bright green shiso syrup.

While parking’s a challenge, Boom Noodle is sure to become one of our Asian comfort food staples.  (As for slurping, turns out they encourage it!)

While I’m happy with my effort, I don’t think it’s stellar.  I don’t mention prices other than to include a dollar sign in the summary.  I did visit a second time with my husband, making sure to order dessert (that’s another cardinal rule; ALWAYS order dessert).  I would have liked to mention more of the dishes we tasted, but was limited by the word count.

Kathleen’s felt I provided good nuggets of information, offering a clear feel for the place.  However, she agreed I should have touched more on price.  Don’t assume your readers are familiar with exotic ingredients such as shiso; provide a description. Also, if mentioning parking in a review, you should offer options to the reader.

Slipping into passive voice is one of my style issues (as illustrated by this sentence!), as well as using exclamation points (ditto!!!)  A writer can better illustrate enthusiasm with clear writing than relying on hackneyed punctuation.  While she liked the visualization of the “Granny Smith walls,” it should be “Granny Smith-colored walls” as they obviously weren’t made of apples.  Stating the restaurant “is sure to become one of our staples” not only is cliché, it shifts the review from commentary to personal opinion.

This exercise not only deepened my respect for food writing, it’s motivated me to revisit my Strunk and White.

So, um, yeah. It’s been a while. I’d be surprised if anyone stops by any more (heck, even my sister bailed months ago). I have at least one good excuse — I’ve run another marathon since last we spoke (shaved 52 minutes off my best time, thankyouverymuch) — but I can’t chalk it all up to that.

I wouldn’t say it’s a matter of writer’s block; I’ve composed a slew of posts in my mind. Nor have I succumbed to culinary mediocrity (okay, perhaps on occasion). Despite limited time and energy, we’ve eaten well. I’ve perfected a recipe for zesty, moist turkey burgers; concocted a nourishing post-run recovery drink incorporating frozen fruit and vanilla soy milk; tested the quality of “cheater” aioli over the real deal (both were delectable); whipped up not one, but two rhubarb pies (one baked, one fresh); hatched my own version of “A Man, A Can, a Plan” (”A woMan, A Few Cans, Not Much of a Plan,” if you will) and in what could be hailed as the ultimate blasphemy for this New England-bred gal, prepared a MANHATTAN clam chowder that’s irresistible (sorry Mom; I’ll turn in my Yankee card forthwith).

No, the real culprit is epistolary lethargy. I just haven’t had it in me.

I’ve had no problem posting on Eat Drink Run Woman (I’ve penned more than 30 posts since March 26), yet when it comes to food blogging, my readers deserve more. There’s an inherent intimidation in food writing; if you can’t measure up to the quality that currently exists, why bother?

Yet for me it goes deeper. What do I have to say that hasn’t been said before? How can I best illustrate my post to make it interesting? Take all those factors in mind and you’re looking at 3-4 hours a day at a minimum before anything is published. With my running musings, I can crank out a pithy entry in less than an hour.

So why the turnabout?

For starters, I’ve been mulling over my career. I absolutely love what I do, but inevitably I’ll tire of the same routine. Variety stimulates me. So as I near the 7-year anniversary of Ovens to Betsy, I’m pondering other opportunities to pique my passion and keep my mind fresh. Given my background in public relations, I’m naturally drawn toward food writing; hence, it’s time to dust off my blog.

During a recent trip to Maine I read Kathleen Flinn’s memoir, “The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry.” Not only did she inspire me to consider moving to France for a year to attend Le Cordon Bleu, she motivated me to write. Upon returning to Seattle I was thrilled to see she was offering a food writing seminar at the Richard Hugo House, which I attended a couple of weeks ago. The course was jam-packed with advice, from writing recipes to cookbooks to restaurant reviews, to crafting compelling book proposals and magazine query letters, to how to develop a portfolio of clips.

I’m not going to hazard a guess as to how often I’ll post. I’d rather produce quality than quantity. But I certainly hope you check back and let me know what you think.

(By the way, the photo is a parody of a Runner’s World cover used for an interview for Runner’s Lounge. Ovens to Betsy does not condone running with knives. Please do not try this at home).

It’s time once again for Easter decadence. As I wrote last year, I love to make desserts this time of year since there’s always plenty of people to help rid me of leftovers.

While contemplating this year’s concoction, I became inspired when I tried Tom Douglas‘ coconut cream pie at Etta’s. It’s loaded with coconut — in the crust, the pastry cream and in the garnish. The recipe is in his “Seattle Kitchen” cookbook, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. But as always, my brain started revving in overdrive. How could I make it my own?

I then remembered I had a half a bag of almond meal flour in my fridge, left over from a recipe for brown butter rhubarb-almond cake that Bill Gates’ pastry chef prepared when the premier of China came to town. Let’s see, what has almond and coconut? An Almond Joy candy bar, of course!

I figured I could incorporate the almond meal into the crust, along with shredded coconut. I’d then spread chocolate ganache onto the pre-baked crust before filling it with the pastry cream. Tom’s filling calls for regular milk, but I wanted to boost the coconut flavor by using coconut milk. I also added some almond extract to both the crust and the filling. In addition to the toasted shaved coconut, I garnished the top with toasted almond slices and dark chocolate (I found one with coconut bits, but you could certainly use plain).

I think this is about as decadent as it gets!

Almond Joy Pie
Serves 6-8

Coconut-Almond Crust
(Note: if you can’t find or don’t want to purchase almond meal flour — it’s pretty pricey — you can just use regular flour and increase the amount of almond extract, if desired).

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 cup almond meal flour
1/2 cup shredded coconut (I used unsweetened, but you could also use sweetened)
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch dice
2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons water, or more as needed
1 teaspoon almond extract (or more to taste)

Combine flour, coconut, butter, sugar and salt in a food processor. Pulse to form coarse crumbs. Ad the almond extract, then the water, 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing after each addition. Add only as much water as needed for the dough to hold together when pressed between your fingers. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Unwrap dough and place on a lightly floured work surface. Roll out to 1/8″ thick and place into a glass pie pan. Trim edges to a 1/2″ overhang. Turn edges of dough under and flute. Place in the freezer for 1/2 hour (this will help keep it from shrinking when baked).

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place a piece of parchment onto the dough and fill with pie weights or beans. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until edges begin to brown. Remove weights and parchment and continue to bake until bottom has golden-brown patches, about 8-12 minutes more.

Ganache:
1/2 cup whipping cream
6 ounces bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate

Bring cream just to the boil, remove from heat and stir in chocolate. Continue to stir until chocolate is smooth. Let cool slightly. When crust is cool pour ganache over it and spread up the sides with a spatula. Let cool in the fridge.

Pastry Cream:
2 cups coconut milk
2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
1 vanilla bean, split in half lengthwise
2 teaspoons almond extract
2 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup butter, softened

Combine coconut milk and coconut in a saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds and pod to the milk mixture. Heat over medium-high until the mixture almost comes to a boil.

Whisk eggs, sugar and cornstarch together in a bowl. Temper the eggs by whisking in a bit of the milk mixture, then add back into the pan with the rest of the coconut milk. Continue to heat, whisking constantly, until milk mixture becomes very thick. Remove from heat and whisk in butter. Remove vanilla bean pod and place mixture into a bowl. Set bowl over ice and whisk until cool.

Whipped Cream:
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (can also use 1/2 vanilla, 1/2 almond)

Mix all ingredients in a chilled bowl and whisk with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form.

Garnish:
1/2 cup toasted shaved coconut
1/3 cup toasted sliced almond
Shaved dark chocolate, to taste

To assemble pie, pour chilled pastry cream into shell and top with dollops of whipped cream. Sprinkle with garnishes and serve!

I’ve never made popovers before (although I did try my hand at individual Yorkshire puddings one year), but they didn’t seem too terribly difficult: mix milk, flour, eggs, salt and melted butter, pour into prepared popover tins, top with shredded gruyere and bake until puffed and golden brown. Normally I’d practice beforehand, but I didn’t have a popover pan, nor did I have much extra time given my marathon training. I’d just have to hope for the best.

When I downloaded the recipe off of Martha’s site I decided to check out the reviews. Practically all of them were negative; most people said the popovers turned out doughy and didn’t rise that much. This wouldn’t do! I then compared that recipe to others, including one in Baking Illustrated (I always trust the folks at Cook’s Illustrated). Martha’s recipe was for 12 popovers and called for 4 cups each of flour and milk and 8 eggs. The BI recipe called for just 1 cup each of flour and milk and 2 eggs for 6 popovers. Given the disastrous results so many people had with Martha’s recipe, I decided I’d take a chance and prepare the BI one, doubling the recipe.

As I was in the thick of things during the brunch I started to get nervous. I know how important my client’s Christmas Eve brunch with her family is, so I didn’t want to disappoint. I had considered fessing up to using a different recipe, but decided against it. I just prayed everything worked out.

Martha’s chef had you pour the batter to the top of the popover cup, so I did the same (even though BI said to divide the batter evenly). I knew I was in trouble as I filled up the 8th cup: I had barely enough batter left for one more. D’oh! Fortunately I’d only be serving 5 adults and 2 kids, so I thought I could get away with it (there was so much food, I didn’t think people would want seconds on the popovers). I sprinkled the gruyere over the batter and placed the tins back in the oven.

When the timer rang I looked in to see some rather lopsided popovers. They rose, but I think the gruyere kept them from rising straight up. I took them out of the pans and placed them on a rack, where they deflated slightly. I began to panic; have I just ruined my client’s brunch? Fortunately everyone seemed thrilled and no one said a word about the less-than-perfect popovers. I dodged a bullet.

Or so I thought.

When I arrived the following week for their regular service my client mentioned she wanted to get her oven checked since the popovers didn’t rise like they were supposed to. Now I’m REALLY on a guilt trip. Here I was the one to mess with her popovers and she’s blaming her oven. You’d think I’d take that opportunity to fess up, but NOOOOO. We just made plans to try the popovers again to see if they would come out better the next time. (I’m such a wuss).

However, I then came up with a plan: a white lie, if you will. The next week I told her I had looked through the comments on the site and said that many others had the same problem — basically the truth, although I neglected to say it wasn’t Martha’s recipe in the first place. So I prepared the popovers using the BI recipe again, eliminating the gruyere and making the called-for number of servings. They baked up beautifully! I did, however, neglect to divvy up the batter evenly among the cups, so I ended up with 4 very large popovers and one medium-size. But my client was happy, so all’s well that ends.

Of course, this whole ordeal got me on a popover kick, so for Valentine’s Day I asked my darling for a pan (with the promise of fresh hot popovers for him for dinner). I’ve made them several times since, and even tried them with the gruyere. Indeed, they don’t rise quite as much, but the cheese gets nicely browned and chewy on top (similar to the cheese crust that forms on the bowl of French onion soup).

Gruyere Popovers
(adapted from Baking Illustrated)

1 cup whole milk
2 eggs
1 cup (5 ounces) all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups gruyere, finely shredded

Whisk eggs and milk until well combined. Mix in flour and salt until the flour is just incorporated (the batter will be lumpy). Add the melted butter and whisk until batter is bubbly and smooth. Let batter rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 450. Place 1/2 teaspoon oil in the bottom of 6 popover cups. Adjust an oven rack to the lowest position and place popover pan in oven (let heat for at least 15 minutes). When hot, remove pan from oven and quickly distribute evenly among the 6 cups. Top with the gruyere and place back in the oven. Bake for 20 minutes without opening the oven door. Lower the heat to 350 and bake until puffed and golden brown all over, approximately 15-18 minutes. Remove popovers from pan and let cool for about 5 minutes.

At Christmas we received a bottle of White Zinfindel. This normally is not a wine we enjoy — we’re more partial to dry reds — but we decided to give it a go. As expected, it was far too sweet, but worse, it lacked any character. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to pour it down the sink. There MUST be some way to salvage it.

With New Year’s now upon us — which brought a renewed commitment to eating healthier — I picked up some salmon and kale. I love both sweet and savory preparations for salmon, so I thought the White Zinfindel might make for an interesting sauce. I first seared the salmon on one side and finished it off in the oven. I then sautéed some shallots in the same skillet and deglazed with about a cup and a half of the wine. I let that reduce to about half a cup, then swirled in some Moutarde de Violette (a violet mustard I picked up in Paris) and a bit of butter. I was quite pleased with myself!

I can never show up to Christmas Eve festivities empty-handed, but considering I typically have to work that day I’m always looking for recipes that can easily be made ahead. Deviled eggs to the rescue! I made the eggs and filling the day before, then assembled them at our cousin’s place. They were a HUGE hit.

As with most things, I don’t really have a specific recipe. For 18 eggs I mixed the yolks with about 3/4 cup mayonnaise and 1/2 cup sour cream. I then added salt, pepper and chipotle chiles en adobo to taste. You can mash with a fork or potato masher, but I like to whip everything up in a food processor for a nice creamy consistency. Enjoy!

I managed to get a three-day weekend just before Christmas, so we took the opportunity to relax (well, after our 11-mile run on Friday and 22-mile run on Saturday, that is) and catch up with some out-of-town friends at a local pub. We shared spiked eggnog and wine with our neighbor and gorged ourselves silly with my darling’s relatives Christmas Eve (I’m looking forward to the marathon to help work off all those calories).

On Christmas Eve morning I prepared a decadent brunch for a client: caviar on potato pancakes with crème fraîche, seared foie gras on brioche toast points (with homemade brioche), baked eggs with truffles, popovers with strawberry butter, fresh fruit salad and pigs in a blanket (the latter was requested by the grandkids, but the adults enjoyed them too). As I was cleaning up my client told me to take the remaining foie gras — almost 3/4 pound! She also gave me almost an ounce of the truffles. How incredibly generous.

One of my favorite snack indulgences is truffled popcorn — air-popped corn tossed with a mixture of truffle oil and butter and sprinkled with truffle salt. My darling has never cared for it — he can’t stand the smell of truffle oil — but when he tried the version with real truffle butter he was hooked (the truffle scent in most truffle oil is chemically produced, so that’s what had been turning him off). For the butter I minced up some of the truffle and let it steep in melted butter. I then tossed that with the popcorn. The rest of the truffle was mixed in with a wild mushroom risotto.

For the foie gras, I was inspired by a dish my darling had at Chez Dumonet in Paris: seared foie gras with grapes. I sautéed some minced shallot in some duck fat, along with a couple of handfuls of halved black seedless grapes. I let them sauté until rather soft and beginning to brown, then deglazed with about a cup and a half of tawny port and a couple of tablespoons of fresh lemon juice. I reduced that down until syrupy and set aside.

Meanwhile, I sliced the foie gras into 3/4″ slices and seasoned with salt and pepper. I preheated a skillet until very hot and added the slices. They cook VERY fast; you have to be careful or you’ll end up with a skillet-ful of very expensive fat. After about 45 seconds I flipped them and seared on the other side. I then placed the slices on the brioche toast points and poured the sauce on top. The sauce provided a wonderfully tangy balance to the richness of the foie gras and brioche.

What a way to celebrate Christmas!