You know what was even better than participating in the April Pink of Perfection Project? Reading about everyone else's dates! I learned many of us share a love for charming bakeries (and the chocolate chip cookies and cupcakes therein), a big ole glass of wine, staying in bed, and enjoying the outdoors (even if it's by way of a city park). But what we all really seemed to have in common is an appreciation for a bit of quiet time with ourselves. I mean, no one took themselves out to da club. So please, stop by each of these blogs to read the juicy details of their dates alone:

EB at Spice Dish decided that in light of an 80 hour work week, her idea of a date was a little more low-key (and a lot more restorative) than hauling her ass across town for a fancy cocktail and dinner.

Sarah at geek + nerd had an entire day of her favorite things, including cookies and cupcakes, and a long walk on the beach.

Christie of The Sweet Beat savored the spring weather on the winding paths of Prospect Park before winding her way to her very favorite patisserie for a cupcake. And her date has a steamy ending!

Lindsay at If I Only Had a Blog fretted about what to wear before taking her new bike on a whirl of a date, including a stop at -- you guessed it -- a super charming bakery (she even bought her date a little token of her affection, which made me swoon!).

L at Sisters of the White Rose climbed into her 500 thread count sheets (!) for a vintage moviefest (!!).

Likewise, Rae at Idle Bohemian decided a quiet night at home with a little Lloyd Dobbler action was just what she needed it.

Faith at Faith Accompli bought herself a bouquet of tulips and enjoyed the underrated pleasure of spending time alone.

As for me, I took a long walk on a sunny Saturday, stopping for an iced latte. Then I window shopped junk at a flea market before heading to the farmer's market to admire all those geraniums and daffodils.

Big thanks again to everyone else who signed up with good intentions: Anita at anita's world, Ann at Annplified, Rachael at Bond Girls and Peach Pits, erosophy, Shauna at Movies with Grandma Joy, and Vic at Vic's Recipes

Tune in tomorrow for May's project!

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The Sunday meal, taken together, is a time-honored tradition I'm especially fond of. Growing up we sat around the Irish wake table in chinoiserie-papered dining room for a multi-course meal at the punctuating holidays. Our ritual on a ordinary Sunday evening was a drive downtown to a nondescript Mexican restaurant across the street from a toweringly fancy hotel. I remember gold foil-wrapped pats of soft butter spread on hot corn tortillas that were pulled out of plastic containers like rabbits out of a hat and the ketchup my dad ordered for the kids to dip their chips in. Sunday nights can be achingly sad -- the work week looms, the fun is over, and somehow, it seems the sun sets earlier than any other night of the week. But in the Mexican restaurant where old-fashioned vaquero music played on the juke box, traditional striped blankets hung on the wall, and each meal ended with the ceremonial choosing of a Dum-Dum from the bowl at the cash register, we were happy, and the week seemed held at bay for awhile longer.

Later, when I was in Italy for a few months during college, my board did not include Sunday dinner. This was especially inconvenient given that Sundays saw the rattling metal grates firmly shut over the front doors of cafes and trattorias, barring the way to wild boar sausage and cannellini bean soup. At the breakfast table that first Sunday, over the strong coffee that made me happier than any other part of the morning spread, my host mother invited my roommate and I for dinner that afternoon. She made it clear that the meal was not one we had paid for (ahem), but that she would be happy to have us join her family. Their table, a long wooden farmhouse table with a fruit bowl at one end, was in the kitchen. During that meal, the 2 o'clock sunshine would slant through the window and we ate homemade pasta excitedly, its one appearance for the week. For me, aching with a loneliness for what (or rather, who) I'd left behind in Minnesota, Sunday dinner at that table with the sealed pockets of ravioli and a surrogate family was heaven.

Soon after I came back from Florence, my dear friend hosted a Sunday dinner of her own. I sat on the green bar stool at the high ledge in her kitchen alternately sipping coffee and wine as she made a great Caesar salad and two fat roast chickens. She fed eight of us that day, and we crowded around a table pulled out into the middle of her living room floor. I remember being happy then, too, and also, feeling at home.

If I had more pals in this neighborhood I love so much, I'd like to think I'd be cooking up Sunday dinner with them to stave off the Sunday blues. Then again, maybe there's a bit of Field of Dreams at play here: if I cook, will they come? Because there is no better day than Sunday, especially when you do not have a couple hundred pages of Hawthorne to read, or are not walking around a foreign city, addicted to your own melancholy, or are not still heartbreakingly young, completely at the whims of the adults in your life, to sit down with some people you happen to like, even just a bit, and toast one last time to the weekend.



Chicken Provençal
Serves 4, adapted from Gourmet March 2008

1 1/2 pound tomatoes, cut into wedges
2 large onion, cut into wedges, leaving root ends intact
1/2 cup drained brine-cured black olives, pitted if desired
5 large garlic cloves, sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons herbes de Provence, divided
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 whole chicken (about 3 1/2 pound), washed and patted dry

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Toss the tomatoes, onion, olives, garlic, fennel, and 1 teaspoon herbes de Provence with the olive oil. Push to one side of roasting pan. Nestle the chicken in next to the vegetables and season with the remaining teaspoon herbes de Provence, as well as plenty of salt and pepper. Roast in oven until the juices from the chicken run clear with no traces of pink, about 1 1/2 hours. Let the chicken rest for 10-15 minutes. Serve chicken with vegetables, pan juices, and some crusty bread to soak up every bit of juice.

Posted by sarah at 8:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Ultimate creative happiness was waking up early yesterday to act out my writerly fantasies -- there was hot coffee in teacup at my side and the sun was shining through the windows on my geraniums -- type, type, typing away and feeling so virtuous and productive.

I trotted off to work feeling as if I were finally living my longed-for secret life of morning creative work, before heading out to my jobby mcjob. I was so excited, most of all because I had something new to share with all of you for the third time in a week. And for a girl who once went the entire month of August posting once, this is a major improvement.

But ultimate frustration was getting home that evening and realizing the dumb and sour truth: I had forgotten to hit save. It was the most profound dope moment I'd had in awhile, and I was in such a funk about it I had to walk away from the computer, sink on to the couch, and watch Rick Steves for the rest of the night. And now, this morning, I think I'm finally over it.

So let's begin again: The story I had written that morning was about my friend Alison. She has a way of putting a sunny spin on even the most treacherous of times with her unfailing humor and affection for the absurd. And so I knew she was the person to call one afternoon last summer when I was acting desperate and dramatic (not unlike how I was behaving last night when my computer woes struck, frankly) about something I now have no recollection of (funny how that works, isn't it?).

Right when I wanted to throw myself on my bed and wail wildly, Alison chirped in with her sweet voice: "If your life were a movie, what would the heroine do?" Like other romantic types, Alison and I wish our time here on earth more often came complete with a score and some choreographed dance numbers. Despite my desire to gulp some NyQuil and call it a night, that's not exactly heroine behavior. A heroine would put on a flippy little skirt, a red and white striped top, and go out into the world for a fresh perspective. And so I did.

I think my heroine would also eat these tartines for dinner. She would click into her little apartment at evening's end wearing shiny red flats, a little weary, and make these quick, toasted open-faced sandwiches in an ancient, creaky oven with the odd bits of this and that rolling around in her icebox. The results, of course, would be miraculously delicious.

And that is the beauty of the tartine. Some good bread and a few tasty nibbles toasted together are all you need to feel sustained again. And I should mention, of course, that I got the idea from all of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The Tartine Way

Toast a slice of country bread, and then spread with a moist ingredient like aioli, pesto, tapenade, or the cheese of your choice, such as goat, gruyère, or comté. If you're craving some real heft, add leftover roast chicken, prosciutto, smoked fish, or a poached egg. Be sure to also add delicious veggies like roasted red pepper, arugula, and tomatoes. If you want your tartine hot and melty, pop in a 425 degree F oven for 15 minutes. If you prefer a cold tartine, just pop into your mouth. The tartine pictured here is a union of goat cheese, tomatoes, and artichoke hearts. The next night we had pesto, roasted red pepper, and these Alfonso olives I'm having a love affair with. There are limitless combinations for your tartines, and that's really half the fun. The other half, of course, is eating.

Posted by sarah at 10:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

This is my very favorite time of year, and if you blink, you just might miss it.

Oh, and by the way, you now have exactly one week to complete the April POP Project! This is a gentle reminder to all you lovelies. And if you haven't signed up but want to participate in monthly POP Projects, it's not too late!

And another thing: I've been tagged! I don't usually do memes because they make me feel bizarrely bashful, but Allison of Pincurls and Peacoats is so darn sweet, I couldn't say no.

7 Things About Me
I had chicken pox twice, once at Christmas.
Sometimes I pretend I'm a heroine in a French film.
I can be a terrible homebody.
My favorite evening activity is reading magazines in the bathtub.
I secretly love getting Rick Roll'd.
I use a lot of salt on pretty much everything. I also have low blood pressure. Related? I think so.

I'm tagging:
Lucy at Lucy's Kitchen Notebook
Homesick Texan
PBG
Angela M. at Shelterrific
Elisabeth at fine little day
Gala at iCiNG
Rebekkah at Maple Sugar

The rules:
1. Once you are tagged, link back to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Post 7 weird or random facts about yourself on your blog.
4. Tag 7 people and link to them.
5. Comment on their blog to let them know they have been tagged.

Posted by sarah at 7:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

This guest post is by a lady who makes me swoon. Sonya Nimri is the wonderfully creative author of Just for the Frill of It and hot off the presses Beadalicious. If you are looking for books with projects that will add pretty, one of a kind details to your life, search no more. Here, Sonya shares her project for the prettiest gardening boots I've ever seen. Getting dirty never looked so good.



Daisies have such pretty connotations. The Irish say that dreaming of daisies at the beginning of spring brings months of good luck. They also say that to dream of your love, place your shoes (or rubber boots in this case) outside the door to your room and put daisy roots under your pillow. This sounds a bit dirty, but I tried it and it actually worked!

Daisy Gardening Boots

What You'll Need

• 1 pair rubber boots (available at most hardware stores)
• 16 fabric daisy appliqués
• Approx 60 3mm yellow seed beads
• Green ric-rac ribbon, 1 yard long
• 1 can pink spray paint (I used Krylon H20 paint in Rhine River Red)
• Mustard yellow craft paint
• E6000 glue
• Small brush or sponge
• Fabric glue
• Toothpick
• Scissors

Directions

1. Spray-paint the boots following directions on the can. Be sure to do this outside or in a well-ventilated area.

2. Use fabric glue to attach 8 daisy appliqués onto each boot, making sure to cover the back of the daisies entirely with glue.

3. Place a generous dab of glue in the center of each daisy and pour seed beads onto the glue, pressing them down so they sink into the glue.

4. Paint the toe and the top trim of each boot with yellow paint.

5. Glue the green ribbon around the top edge of each boot and along the toe line, as shown.

Delish Delight: Daisy-chain Wreath

To make a daisy chain, pick a bunch of daisies and use your fingernail to pierce a hole in each stem, toward the base of the flower. Thread one stem through the hole in another until stopped by the head of the flower. Repeat until you have a long chain for a simple bracelets, wreaths, and necklaces. Put on and dance in the fields like Isadora Duncan.

If you're interested in sharing a project, recipe, or that amazing DIY thing that you do on Pink of Perfection, just email me: sarah@pinkofperfection.com.

Posted by sarah at 7:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

This sickness came on hard, fast, and out of nowhere. My sister says the dipping sauces we shared a week back might be the culprit. Damn that fresh spring roll, even if it did have lobster and strawberries, because since last Friday, I've been talking like Kathleen Turner and not wanting to eat a thing. Except maybe ice cream which, in addition to cinnamon rolls, is the only thing that sounds at all appealing.

Which brings me to this: when I am lucky enough to be healthy, I sometimes I get annoyed by my endless love of grocery lists, imaginary dinner party menus, and stash of online recipes. Why aren't I using that energy to write a book? Sew a dress? Cure something?! But when you are sick and food loses all its appeal so, to some extent, does life. Let's face it: living just isn't as much fun without meals you can get excited about punctuating your days. You start settling: oh sure, I'll eat that overripe banana. Whatever. Takeout again? That's fine. I don't care much about food. And that does not sound like me at all.

Soon, my taste buds will poke out from behind their sickly veil. Until then, the only way to get through to them is with fiery hot foods like chips and salsa, red curry, and this turkey soup.



Mexican Turkey Soup
Serves 6-8

This recipe marks my maiden voyage into dry-roasting, which imparts lots of deep, smoky flavor. It also leaves a pot with char marks to be reckoned with, so bring your elbow grease.

10 ounce package frozen corn, thawed
1 pint cherry tomatoes
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
1 pound lean ground turkey
1/2 cup sliced scallions
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 15 ounce can cannellini beans
2-3 finely minced canned chipotle pepper, depending on your fondness for heat
6 cups chicken stock (this stuff is changing my soup life)

In a large pot, dry-roast corn over high heat until lightly charred. Set aside in a small bowl, and then repeat process with tomatoes, removing to a separate bowl. If your pot is super charred and black as the sky on campout (mine was), give it a wash.

Heat 2 teaspoons of oil in the pot over medium-high heat. Cook turkey until white and opaque, breaking apart into small pieces. Add scallions, garlic, chipotle pepper and sauté until garlic is aromatic, a minute or so. Meanwhile, roughly chop tomatoes.

Add chicken stock, corn, tomatoes (along with the juices), and beans to pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until flavors have mingled and gotten to know each other, about 10-15 minutes.

Posted by sarah at 7:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

I have a new love. And by love, I mean a place to go to wile away the hours that captures my imagination, that is filled with pretty colors, oddities, and cheerful patterns. And by new, I mean a store that everyone but me has apparently known about for years. Late to the party again, McColl! Oh well, better late than never to find an online shop owned by the dearest couple living one of my fantasy lives (they fled New York and now live in the rolling green hills of Virginia taking library trips with their too cute for words little girl). Three Potato Four just may be the perfect online store for me, filled as it is with Danish ceramics, whimsical dish cloths, retro style journals, and oh, it's all just too pretty for words.

Psst! Don't forget to check out April's POP Project and to join in on the fun.

Posted by sarah at 7:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I think spring cocktails can be confusing. It's not yet time to bust out the basil and mint, but maybe you, like me, want something a little more fun and fizzy than a glass of wine. As the temperatures begin to rise ever so slightly, I suppose the most you can ask from your cocktail is that it suggest warmer days. This homemade limoncello is just the right sort of thing.

The first time I had limoncello was in a gilded, rococo-style restaurant in a villa outside Florence. And I know that sounds like the beginning of a story a baroness would tell, but it's the truth. I was on study abroad, and my dad and stepmother had come to visit me and spoil me rotten. I remember feeling quite proud at dinner; my Italian was finally getting passable, so I selected the wine, and posed as a language conduit between my parents and the deft, tucked-in servers. At dessert, our waiter -- a cute, young, sweet sort of Italian boy -- described limoncello to us. It sounded irresistible, and tasted even better: sweet, tart, puckery, fresh. And then, when this charming waiter smiled at the end of the meal and called my accent flawless, well, I was pretty much over the moon that night.

This homemade version is sweet and a perfect foil to spicy, salty snacks. Bottoms up!



Limoncello
makes about 4 cups (and a lot of drinks)

1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 1/2 cup fresh lemon juice, from about 10-12 lemons
1 1/2 cup vodka
club soda

In a small saucepan, bring water and sugar to a boil and stir until sugar dissolves to make a simple syrup. Let cool, then pour into a pitcher. Stir in lemon juice and vodka. Serve over and ice and top with club soda.

Note: Commenter Ben pointed out this isn't really limoncello, which is made from steeping vodka with the lemon rinds, rather than the juice. I probably should have called this Super Lazy Instant Gratification Limoncello. In any event, if you're interested in checking out the real deal, Ben's blog, LimoncelloQuest is a must-see.

Posted by sarah at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

I know I've mentioned this before, but I have a bit of a girly crush on Kimberly Wilson. One of the many reasons I admire her is because of her great book in which she helps readers hone in on the driving aesthetics of their life by creating a vision statement. You're given a list of words which you fly through, willy-nilly, responding with pure gut and gusto, until you're left with only the words that speak to you. Then comes the hard part: you must narrow that list down to five words only. While I had some trouble tossing out "adventure," the rest came totally naturally, and then there they were, staring me in the face, all the things I care about: beauty, pleasure, creativity, love, community.

So if you want to know, in a nutshell, what makes me tick, that's it. I try to make Pink of Perfection a place to express and revel in those values. But when I got to thinking about community, which I crave so much in my life, I thought, hell, why not push it a little more?

And so, inspired by these women, and also this woman, and, of course, Shauna and Joy, let's give Pink of Perfection Projects a whirl, shall we? This will be a monthly project that hopefully will add some pleasure, beauty, or creativity to our lives. And us all writing about it? That's where the community (and, if we're really lucky, maybe even a little love, awwww) comes in.

April's Pink of Perfection Project is to take yourself out on a date, to court yourself a little bit. Interpret this as you will, but make it a true date, something worthy of a paramour, only the one you're wooing is you.

Here's how to participate:

• E-mail me and say you're on board (remember to include a link to your blog!): sarah@pinkofperfection.com
  
• Complete (or attempt to complete) the project.
  
• Write about the project on your website or blog by April 30.
  
• Link back to the original assignment.
  
  

At the end of the month, I'll post an update on the POP Project, linking back out to all of you lovely participants who want to join me in making life a little more special and sparkly. Who's with me?

Posted by sarah at 3:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

I can't tell you why exactly (not because I'm being coy, but just because I am clueless myself), but I have been craving peanut butter like crazy lately. Do I need more nuttiness in my life? Whatever the reason, it's a bit of a problem. Peanut butter is one of the things I don't usually keep in the house because when it's there I will find any opportunity to swing by fridge, pry off the lid, and drag a spoon through the creamy stuff to lick like a lollipop.

The funny thing is, peanut butter is not even something I'm wild about. My current state of uncontrollable love for it is just a freak occurrence that happens every once in a while where I inexplicably flip for the stuff. It's like the rare night when, a few times a year, I cannot sleep and instead pretend that I am a terribly deep poetess insomniac, pacing the wooden floors in a long nightgown and thinking grand thoughts.

In any event, you can only eat so many spoonfuls of peanut butter before you want to do something more substantive with the stuff. Enter these cookies. I'd been eyeing them for a while over at Deb's place, and when I found myself in happy possession of a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon, I knew just what to do.



Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies
Makes about 3 dozen
adapted from Smitten Kitchen's adaptation of The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook (it's like the geneaology of a cookie!)

I learned a really important life lesson in the course of this recipe: brown sugar as hard as a murder weapon is not beyond repair. If you microwave about a cup at a time for 20-30 seconds, it becomes soft and you can break apart the granules with your fingers. Then store in a ziploc bag in the freezer, and you are officially a domestic goddess not to be messed with.

1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup natural creamy peanut butter at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 large egg, at room temperature
1 tablespoon milk
3/4 cup chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a medium-sized bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt, then set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the butter and the peanut butter together until fluffy. Next, plop in both sugars and beat until smooth. Crack in the egg and mix well. Stir in the milk. Now fetch the dry ingredients and mix in completely with the peanut butter mixture. Stir in the peanut butter chips.

Scoop up rounded teaspoons and roll between your palms into balls before placing on an ungreased cookie sheet. Gently press each cookie with the back of of a fork before popping in the oven to bake for 10 to 12 minutes. Let cool slightly, then eat.

Posted by sarah at 7:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)