Silk & Shadows

Currently working on: Freaking out
Mood: Freaking out (Hey, it’s good to be consistent)

So I’m writing this Sunday night (due to the fact that I like to wait until the last minute; it’s not procrastination when I call it “time-lock inspiration”) and earlier today I tweeted: “2 parties last night and still home by midnight. We’re not getting older, we’re partying more efficiently.”

My oh-so-supportive twit friends laughed heartily.

And it’s true.  Oh, not just that I’m getting older.  That seems inevitable, more or less.  Worse, I’M GROWING UP!

How sad!  I actually ORDERED A SALAD for myself when I was at the last writers conference.  At home, XY always forces me to eat a salad because “it’s good for me.”  So I usually reserve vacation for an excuse not to eat salad.  But this time, I voluntarily ordered a salad.  And ate it.  And kinda liked it.

If that isn’t a symptom of growing up…

So appropriately enough this week our topic is BBQ cooking.  I went through my Cake Mix Doctors Cookbook, my box mix brownie recipes, my 8 lb. bucket o’ cookie dough options… and decided to share XY’s salad recipe.

Am I hanging my head in shame or because I suddenly fell into an age-induced nap?  Oh well, it’s a tasty salad and always gets rave reviews at BBQs.

Jessa’s XY’s “It’s Good For You” Salad

(This will feed about six people if mixed all at once. XY preps this amount but keeps the ingredients separate and mixes just enough each night for fresh salad. Yes, I know this isn’t a picture of a salad, but it’s a picture of XY and Christmas lights and the moon, which — if you squint — bears a not insignificant resemblance to the salad, honestly.)

Lettuce prep: Get a small/medium head of romaine, or equal that amount of romaine, red leaf, spinach, some arugula, or other fun greenery.

Clean the lettuce thusly (this technique will preserve the greens for a week or more if you keep it all for yourself):

1. Fill the sink with cold water and a cup of salt.  (Weird, I know.) Swish all the leaves through the water.  Pick out wilted and excessively bruised leaves.  (This is usually my job; I am not allowed to play with the knives.)

2. Empty the sink. Refill with fresh cold water.  Continue to pick out the bad leaves.

3. Empty the sink. Refill with fresh cold water and ice cubes.  Let the lettuce chill for about five minutes.

4. Drain the leaves and put them in a salad spinner.  This is crucial. Patting dry could bruise the leaves and hasten spoilage.  Plus, the salad spinner is one of the coolest technologies to come out of the space program, so use it and think of Mars.

Go through the garden. Or your local farmers market. Or the organic section at your local grocery.  Pick the good stuff, pretty stuff, or fun stuff.  But definitely get:

Scallions, one bunch
One cucumber
One carrot
Half-head of red cabbage

Also fun:
One tomato
Red pepper
Chick peas (garbanzo beans) — I don’t even like beans and these are good
Pine nuts
Edible flowers especially nasturtium — and they look nice in the garden

Extra extras:
Cheese
Olives

Chopping time:
Thin slice the lettuce and about quarter of the half cabbage into small strips, like confetti.  For lazy home salads, you can chop it however you want; but for public consumption, the confetti cut looks pretty

Finely chop the scallions. Peel and grate the carrot. Partly peel the cucumber (some of the dark green skin adds color), scoop out the seeds, slice and quarter.

Halve and slice the tomato. Dice the red pepper. Drain and pat dry the chick peas. Roast the pine nuts. (Good heavens, there are a lot of verbs in this salad.  I swear, it’s worth the work for a party, or will feed you all week.)  Shred the flowers.

Pre-party storage:
Refrigerate the lettuce separately.  The other ingredients can be grouped into sealed containers for convenience to take to the party or store in your fridge for assembly at each night’s dinner.

Dressing:
This is a “it’s good for me” salad as well as a tastes good salad, so XY does an oil and vinegar dressing.  The ratio is as follows:

1 part vinegar to 3 parts oil
XY estimates 1 second of oil poured (from a spout, not from the open bottle) for each person.  So a 6-person salad gets 6 seconds of oil (extra virgin olive oil) and 2 splashes of vinegar (red wine, balsamic, etc.).

1 pinch of salt per 2 seconds of oil
So a 6-person salad gets 3 pinches of salt

Fresh ground pepper to taste
XY is adamant the pepper must be fresh ground.  And he says don’t be shy with the pepper.

Assembly:
When the burgers are almost ready to come off the BBQ, put the lettuce in a big bowl.  Toss in the scallions and handfuls of the cabbage, carrot and cucumber until it looks pretty.  Throw in the chick peas and red pepper for visual appeal. Pour the dressing, salt and pepper, and toss well — very well to incorporate the oil and vinegar and dissolve the salt.

Decorate:
All the extras — the sliced tomato, pine nuts, cheese, olives, flower petals, etc. — can be sprinkled on top.

Yes, this is the salad that made me like salads.  Huh.  Now that I think about it, go eat cookie dough.

Do you have a favorite salad ingredient, a must-have dressing, or is lettuce merely for rabbits in your book?

Currently working on: Freedom from cocoa tyranny
Mood: Libre!

So I’m giving up chocolate for Lent.  As I’ve mentioned on this blog once or twice before, I’m addicted to buckets of double chocolate cookie dough. 

Eight pounds of cookie dough every month was starting to seem a little… excessive, which is not to say OBSESSIVE.  And, really, what better time of year to give up chocolate than the Easter season?

I mean, I have a perfectly fine imagination on my own.  It’s not like romance writers NEED chocolate to be inspired.

There are lots of ways to say “I love you” that don’t include theobromine.

Sure, Godiva has furnite made of chocolate.  But I didn’t make that bed, so I won’t lie in it.  Even if it would be awfully convenient from a snacking standpoint.

Think of all the time I’ll save not mixing up incredibly difficult desserts that are huge hits at picnics like the following:

• Cheap box of brownie mix (recommend Duncan Hines family size prepared to “fudgy” directions in 13×9 pan)
• Minty middle: Beat together 3 Tbl soft butter, 1 1/2 cups of powdered sugar, 1/2 tsp pure mint extract, 2 Tbl milk
• Chocolate top: 2 Tbl butter & 3/4 cup decent chocolate (recommend Trader Joe’s 1 pound bittersweet block — did I mention that buying chocolate by the pound is probably an indication of a problem?)

Nope, instead, I can sleep well knowing I’ve beaten my chocolate addiction.  Maybe it’ll be a bed of chocolate.  Yum….

Speaking as someone who turned out a book called RAVENOUS, it’s pretty clear I have a welcoming attitude toward food. I’m not a picky eater. I like it all.

One of the things catching my interest right now is the slow food movement. No, this has nothing to do with lazy vampires, geriatric werewolves, or zombies in need of arch supports.

In case you haven’t heard of it, slow food is the opposite of fast food: fresh, locally grown, home cooked, and enjoyed for its quality rather than its convenience. It exists alongside ideas like the hundred mile diet, organic food philosophies, and supporting the small local producers and community markets. I’m fortunate enough to live in an area of the Pacific Northwest that’s rich in farmland and wineries and that has a selection of world-class restaurants invested in promoting agri-tourism—which could be defined as “come visit and stuff your face till you drop”.

What does this have to do with writing?  Slow food makes a better author.  While I’m right in there with the “loves chocolate” brigade, for me there’s a price attached to that sweet indulgence:  word count.

This is a sad state of affairs for someone addicted to Hawkins Cheezies and who loves her glass of chardonnay, but garbage in, garbage out. When production counts, I have to avoid the junk snack aisle because sugar, salt, and preservatives make me groggy and (even more) stupid. It’s a hard-won lesson, but if I want to indulge in a not-so-virtuous treat, I have to wait until I’ve done my work for the day.

How very boring. Of course, nothing prevents me from eating well except my own unwillingness to tear my fingers from the keyboard and rejoin planet earth. I love to cook, so I really have no excuse. Here’s a recipe I’ve had for years that I absolutely love. For “slow food” it takes hardly any time to prepare:

Bunny soup (no, we’re not cooking Bugs)

Cook until soft:

2 lbs carrots, scrubbed and chopped

1 potato

Pinch salt

4 cups of stock or water

Saute in olive oil:

1 small chopped onion

Crush garlic (about a teaspoon)

1 tsp grated ginger

Handful of chopped cashews

Add sauted mixture to carrots and put the whole thing through a blender (or use a hand blender) to make a smooth texture. Whisk in

one cup of yogurt

dash of sherry

 and heat through. Garnish with more cashews.

Enjoy!

Favorite writing foods. Hmmm.

Let’s be really clear: I don’t cook. For many years there was a running joke in my house that I could burn Jello. I’ve certainly ruined Kraft Dinner. Yeah, don’t ask. Just put it down to a mind that can bury itself so deep in a story that the real world ceases to exist for a while. Long enough, apparently, for food to burn and KD to turn into gray mush.

Right. Now that I’ve instilled you with confidence, I’m going to share my favorite recipes.

I’ll point out, for the sake of the faint-hearted, that these are my mother’s recipes, which I follow to the letter. Creativity with words? Got that. Creativity with spices? Uh, no. I learned early on not to experiment.

My all-time favorite food for Thanksgiving is pumpkin pie. Here’s how my mom makes hers:

2 nine-inch unbaked pie shells (my mom made her own pastry, but I skip that part and go right to the frozen food section of the grocery store)
1 large can of pumpkin puree
1 ¼ cups of brown sugar (packed)
2 tsp cinnamon
2/3 tsp ginger
2/3 tsp mace
2/3 tsp nutmeg
2/3 tsp salt
4 eggs (separated)

In large bowl, beat the egg yolks; blend in the pumpkin, sugar, cinnamon, salt, mace, ginger and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until fluffy, then fold them into the pumpkin mixture. Pour into pie shells.

Bake in a preheated oven at 425 degrees for 10 minutes, then 350 degrees for about 50 minutes. Bake until the pastry is golden and a knife inserted into centre comes out clean. Let them cool on a rack.

Then dig in. Smother your piece of pie in whipped cream or eat it plain. Whatever works for you. The best part of this recipe is how light and fluffy the egg whites make the pie. Yum.

My other favorite recipe for cool autumn weather is rice pudding. Try this one:

½ cup of short grain rice
1 cup of boiling water
1/3 cup of sugar
1 tsp cornstarch
pinch of salt
4 cups of milk
1 cup 18% table cream (what, you thought this was low cal?)
½ tsp nutmeg
½ cup of raisins
2 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp cinnamon

In a large saucepan, cook the rice in the boiling water until the water is absorbed. Feel free to cook yours in a steamer if you prefer, but you’ll need to transfer the rice to a saucepan to complete the recipe.

In a medium bowl, mix the sugar, cornstarch and salt. Then whisk in a cup of the milk and stir until smooth. Add the sugar mixture, along with the rest of the milk and the cream to the saucepan with the rice. Mix well. Add the nutmeg and the raisins.

Stirring steadily, bring the mixture to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to the barest simmer and stir occasionally. Cook 1 to 1 ½ hours, or until very creamy.

Beat the egg yolks in a small bowl. Remove the pudding from the heat. Whisk a little of the pudding into the egg yolks, then add the egg yolk mixture to the rest of the pudding. Put the pudding back on the stove and cook for an additional minute. Remove from heat, stir in the vanilla and butter. Transfer to a serving dish and sprinkle with cinnamon.

I swear, even if you don’t usually like rice pudding, you’ll love this. You can eat it hot or cold.

Enjoy!

Currently working on: Book 2
Wherein our heroine refers somewhat rudely to the hero’s “little dragon.”
Mood: Snickery

In honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving feast day and the more-or-less middle of National Novel Writing Month, our topic this week is “Favorite Writing Foods: The Recipes That Get Us Through “That Time” of the Month.” (That time meaning, first drafts, revisions, holidays, copy edits or other public events where we are expected to perform like fuctioning members of society.)

So here’s my writing recipe:

• Open bucket.
• Heft spoon.
• Bake if desired.

Yes, it is here, for the first time, that I will publicly reveal the secret of writing 50,000 words in a month: Bucket o’ cookie dough.

The small heart symbol on the label doesn’t actually say “perfect for romance writers”; it says zero grams of trans-fats. So bucket o’ cookie dough is good for you. Also I am in no way implying that the authors whose book spines appear beside this bucket are similarly inspired by chocolate. But I wouldn’t doubt it.

Preparing for my first NaNo years ago, I realized 1666.666 repeating words wouldn’t get written every day on inspiration alone. No, to achieve such a monumental goal I’d need chocolate. In a quick, convenient and plentitudinous form.

In loving support of my writing dream, my sweetie brought me English Bay Double Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough from a restaurant supply company he frequents for work. He has since come to regret introducing me to the bucket o’ cookie dough.

The 8 lb. bucket (they call it a pail, as if that somehow negates the mental image of a mid-NaNo writer with her head buried shoulder-deep in said bucket) provides enough cookies for breakfast  a writing session pick-me-up for the entire month. If you do the math (and I have), it comes to about ½ ounce of cookie dough per page. A mere .003 oz per word. Which, according to Yahoo Answers, is the weight of the average raindrop. (Not in the Pacific Northwest, of course, where the average raindrop weighs about the same as the entire bucket o’ cookie dough.)

Considering that my understanding of ounces in the English measurement system is based primarily upon an ounce of cocaine from the ‘80s TV show Miami Vice, I don’t think that four ounces of cookie dough to achieve my required eight pages per day is an unreasonable evil. At least addiction to cookie dough doesn’t somehow force me to wear pastels, boat shoes and oversized sunglasses.

Based on its weight of approximately one ounce and my average word count of 210 words per page, this cookie represents 420 words, my dears. To continue the drug references.

Wait? What do you mean opening a bucket o’ cookie dough doesn’t count as a recipe? Fine. If you MUST bake something for Thanksgiving just to prove to your friends and family that you are a Superwoman who can pull off 50K words PLUS a tasty baked good, I recommend The Cake Mix Doctor.  Frost any of her creations with melted Dagoba chips, and I promise you will sucker those friends and relatives into believing you actually dirtied measuring cups and spoons and such to grace them with your creation this Thanksgiving.

What? Lying about your baking mastery isn’t cool? We’re fiction writers, people. We’re EXPECTED to exaggerate. All right already. Here’s a real recipe. But it contains raw eggs. So if your friends and family who couldn’t be satisfied with buckets and box mixes get salmonella and ends up confined to bed while you finish your 50,000 words, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

French Silk Chocolate Pie
Ingredients
1 cup butter
1½ cups sugar
4 oz unsweeted chocolate (Dagoba!), melted and cooled
2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs
1 baked 9-inch pie shell, cooled
Whipped cream

Directions
1. Beat the butter with the sugar until very well blended. The mixture should be smooth, fluffy and pale yellow. (Jessa’s note: No really, follow the directions. Crunchy sugar butter is very yummy, but you want this smooth. Using super-fine baking sugar can help this process and then just keep beating. Hmm, kinda like revisions).
2. Blend in the chocolate and the vanilla. (Lick the chocolate bowl. That Dagoba isn’t cheap.)
3. Using an electric mixer at medium speed, beat in the eggs, on at a time, taking 5 minutes to incorporate each. (5 minutes is longer than you think so use an egg timer. Unless you’re doing timed writing, and then 5 minutes takes for flippin’ ever.)
4. Turn the mixture into the pie shell and chill for several hours. (Do I have to remind you to lick the bowl?)
5. Decorate with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. (Dagoba!)

Meanwhile, if English Bay would like to be my corporate sponsor (I’m imagining a banner waving gently behind me at book signings… or possibly a sweeeet zippy sportscar in a rich two-toned bronze tricked out with a built-in toaster oven and emblazoned with my name, my latest book cover, and the image of a mystery-eyed bare-chested man holding out a plate of three cookies) I can be reached here at Silk And Shadows every Monday.