Out Damn Spot

Kerry Washington and the costume designer from Scandal are on a full-court press to bring back opera-length gloves.

On a date with an open container ? Gloves.

President woke up from his coma? Gloves.

OLIVIA POPE (this is how everyone addresses and refers to Washington's character) is the most immaculately dressed character on television. She lives in cream-colored cashmere shawl coats and a variety of tailored white pantsuits that reveal she must never drink coffee because how else do they never have stains? Anyway, I used to think that the opera-length gloves were just another indication of her chicness, but I now realize she wears them because her hands are so dirty. Oh my God, EVERYONE ON THIS SHOW has committed at least three felonies. The president (spoiler) (I'm putting a line break here in case you want to catch up) --

I Love New York Dinner

I'm about to go out of town for a week and wanted to have a nice meal at home with Dan before I left, so I went to Chelsea Market to pick up ingredients. I stopped by Dickson's Farmstand Meats for an overpriced free-roaming chicken, and then wandered over to Buon Italia, and bought two balls of burrata. I resupplied my stores of ras al hanout and za'atar from a stand in the hallway, and snagged some dill seed and sunchokes at Manhattan Fruit Exchange. I LOVE NEW YORK, GUYS. Where else can you find all that pretentious, semi-obscure shit originally seen on Top Chef within the confines of one city block?

Anyway, this shopping made a great dinner that was very easy to prepare. The hardest part was slicing the beets.

Behold: appetizer of burrata cheese, sliced marinated beets, and crunchy sunchokes:

Oh, and pecans, which I forgot to add before I took the photo. Burrata is mozzarella injected with cream. It's the best cheese there is, and both Dan and I are powerless against it.

But the CHICKEN. Ok. To make the perfect, burnished roast chicken you see below, you spend $17.50 on a three and a half pound chicken from the nice bearded butcher at Dickson's Farmstand Meats.

Then you go home, crank your oven to 400 degrees, rub the whole chicken with salt and pepper and olive oil, stuff some lemon and onion wedges and an uncomfortable amount of salt into the cavity, dump grapeseed oil and the rest of the onion into the pan, plop in the chicken, and roast for twenty minutes. Then you flip the chicken so it's breast side up, and roast for 20ish minutes more. Then you take it out, check the temperature with your meat thermometer, and let it sit for 10-15 minutes while you make a pan sauce, because you'll notice that I cooked it in a PAN.

This was by far the best chicken I've ever made. The skin was crunchy and crackly, the meat perfectly tender and flavorful, and the pan sauce didn't hurt things (pan sauce: pour off most of the fat, add glugs of a flavorful liquid - here, xiao xing rice wine - plus two tablespoons of butter; whisk; decant into a defatter if you have one or a bowl if you don't). I attribute this roast chicken perfection 10% to my cooking skills and 90% to the bird itself, because it was a) fresh, b) fatty, and c) came from an actual farm. I don't know why, but supermarket chickens, even the Bell & Evans ones I usually buy, have no yellow fat, and I'm pretty sure that's what kept the breast meat nice and moist. And because this chicken was super fresh, it didn't have time to sit around in its own juices - when I took it out of the bag, the skin was bone dry, which allowed it to get potato-chip crunchy in the oven.

I will make this again.

Anyway, I'm calling this an "I Love New York Dinner" because it's so... New York. The "oh it's like, local and sustainable and organic" part; the "burrata is available at three stores within a block of my office" part; the "I cooked it in Brooklyn, New York" part. Unfortunately, Chelsea Market, Raffetto's Pasta, and Murray's Cheese are going to be way less convenient in a little over a week, because I got a new job in midtown. My new office is convenient to American Girl Place, the theater that houses Wicked, and Guy's American Kitchen. I'm psyched about the job, even if it wipes out my burrata options. But I'll figure it out. I always do.

Phishters

People can know me for years when this conversation happens, and question if we were ever actually friends:

Me: "Yeah, I'm going to Colorado to visit my sister and her family."

Friend: "Your sister?"
Me: "Yeah, my sister, her husband, and their kids."

Friend: "... BIZ?! HOW OLD IS BIZ???"

Me: "No, not Biz! I mean Christina."

Friend: "What?"

Yes, due to multiple marriages in my family, I have seven siblings, a bunch of whom aren't even related to each other. Just go with it. ANYWAY, my older sisters came to town for the annual New Year's Eve Phish show at the end of December, I went to the show with them, and we had a great time head-bobbing, staring at the light show, and drinking vodka sodas out of sippy cups.

Because I was a loser in high school, this was my first Phish show. I have NEVER seen the Garden like this - the staff, usually fairly strict about checking seats and tickets, stood with their backs against the stadium walls, ignoring the pot smoke wafting out of every row and allowing 25 people to cram into 12-person rows. It felt like we were in some kind of trance-pod in an intergalactic cruise liner. It was great.

We all bought tour tees and wore them to brunch the next day.

I should mention that brunch was with our dad and ANOTHER sister my friends learn about 2-6 years into knowing me. Yay, girls!

Happy Heart Day

My dear friend Kate moved to Ohio recently. I'll be pretending she's on a very long vacation until she comes to her senses and hightails it back. Unfortunately, she already gave up her apartment, "Sheffield," a reasonably-priced, spacious two-bedroom in one of those Park Slope brownstones from the background of Bored to Death. 

Maybe she really did move.

Anyway, I already miss Kate very much, but at least I have a little piece of her on Valentine's Day, because she SENT ME COOKIES!!!!!

Also, I never posted pictures from her going away party. Here they are. 

NBC Page start group!

Food Group, including the Baltimore-dwelling, newly engaged-by-flashmob Hallie F.

Beirut got competitive. Hallie H. trash talks, above. 

Kate & Jenny 4vr

Dan patiently waiting in the corner. 

Salted Caramel Brownies

I was feeling PRODUCTIVE this morning. I woke up early, went for a run, and baked a batch of salted caramel brownies.

I let them cool over the course of the day.

Then I got some good news, and savored it with some oysters and a cocktail at Allswell.

That picture's from last week's Treating Myself, but same deal.

Then I got home and saw the brownie pan. I got the recipe from Deb at Smitten Kitchen, who stamped her brownies into oozing heart shapes, so I figured - in for a penny...

Happy Almost-Valentine's Day! Dan and I are celebrating with tickets to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which is very inappropriate.

Self Treated

I don't know why I call my mother when I'm wondering if I should get something. Actually, I know exactly why - because she'll tell me to get it.

Treat Mah Self?

I've been treating myself lately.

I like to do this when Dan's out of town working, as going home to an empty apartment is no fun. So on Monday I stopped by Mermaid Oyster Bar and slammed back a dozen oysters and a champagne cocktail. TREAT YO SELF.

I then treated myself to a new dress and blazer from J. Crew, in a twenty-minute shopping spree that I'll hopefully be able to explain more next week.

I got a manicure.

But you can't JUST treat yourself with clothes, massages, and mimosas, or approximations thereof. You need "fine leather goods."

So... do I buy this?

It's so pretty! It's not even that expensive. I don't need it... but...

Treat myself?

Odes to Sayulita and the Canon S100

Dan and I recently spent a week in Sayulita, Mexico. We hit on it a few months ago in a Facebook post - Dan asked the Internet where we could go that's warm, beachy, and tourist-friendly but not overrun with resorts. Husein and Carly, who live and teach in Sayulita and who had invited us to visit in the past, were like, "...guys?" And the decision was made.

It was a perfect vacation spot. The town is a little bit crunchy, filled with Mexicans who run family businesses and work in or out of the tourist industry. It's their town, they want you to love it, and they want it to stay a community. There's one large hotel, and no resorts. We rented a condo on the beach and were upgraded to a villa upon arrival.

Its size was wasted on us, but not the view. We woke up to this every morning:

Ladies would come by with pastries and tamales, and Dan and I would sit on the balcony, staring at the ocean as we munched away.

I brought my new camera, which takes fantastic, idiot-proof photos. Why have I been spending $150 on basic point-and-shoots when I could have had this one for a hundred more? After borrowing Scott's fancy SLR for our trip to Paris and having it on the wrong setting the whole time (the pictures are fine, but a point-and-shoot would have done just as well), I wanted something little and automatic. Carrying an SLR around creates a sense of obligation - you feel like you need to be taking photos constantly, and that they should be photographs rather than pictures. I found in Paris that it took me out of the experience a little. So in Sayulita, I didn't take as many, and there were days I just left the camera at home. How many pictures of the beach do you really need? Anyway, if you're in the market for a fancy point-and-shoot, I recommend the Canon S100.

I also recommend Sayulita. We met people who'd been going there for 10-15 years, loving the vibe and the beach. It's not for everyone - there are no resorts, and it's a little bit crunchy and rustic - but we loved it. We swam, drank, biked, boated, and saw about a thousand whales.

Poqueta! (Hus & Carly's cat-dog)

And ATE. It was a 70% fish taco diet, and I had to wear stretch pants on the plane ride home. Worth it.

Chilequiles, aka nachos for breakfast.

Quesadilla purchased from a lady making the tortillas in front of you.

Great vacation.