Pink of Perfection

The bad news is, I killed a plant. A couple weeks ago, I went on a plant buying spree. Green plastic pots filled with pink polka dotted leaves and viney tendrils were two for $5 at the farmer’s market. Then later, walking home from a cafe, a flower shop had a tray of long-armed, spiny aloe plants for sale, and a tall, proud looking green thing. Of course, I had to have them all.

Ever since I visited my friend in Los Angeles in the spring, I have realized that my dream life has a lot more green things in it than my actual life. Jenny had plants hanging from the rail of her balcony, and a terracotta pot filled with succulents and a bed of stones. At night, she might have snipped buds from white rosebushes and slipped then into the narrow neck of a tall bottle back in her apartment.

I came home wanting more green on my windowsills and fire escape. And it’s why, when I ran into a jade plant at Trader Joe’s, I swooned. There’s something about jade plants that so speaks to me––they don’t need much, and they hold what they need, in reserves, inside of them. Yet despite the lovely symbolism and my ability to instantly make reality an element of my dream life right there in the grocery store aisle, I had to stand, weighing the pecuniary ramifications of a $10 plant for several minutes. Then finally it hit me: I’ll spend $10 on a sushi lunch but I can’t drop the same amount to make my ideal life vision a reality? So I got my priorities straight and happily carried that jade plant home, where it greets me every morning from my bedroom windowsill. An important lesson: it’s always worth it to spring for the things that really bring you deep delight, especially when they cost less than $20.

I killed the pink polka dotted thing. I think, perhaps, it was more delicate than it looked. It might have been the rain or the wilting heat. But I still have the jade plant, the aloe plant next to it, and two unidentified green things in the living room: one low and long-armed, one tall and proud.

Here’s the good news: I’m pretty into these cookies. In fact, would it be wrong to say my favorite thing about these cookies was the raw dough? It was the best I’ve ever tasted. Some of their magic seemed a little lost in the baking, but they came out of the oven soft and have stayed that way for days. Plus, while I would not go so far as to call these cookies “healthy,” they do have a number of good-for-you items in them, like whole wheat and oat flours, canola oil, and agave nectar. This is not reason enough to eat them for breakfast, but all the same, I did. Let’s just call that my other piece of bad news.

Continue reading “Chocolate Chunk Cookies with Almonds” »

Y’all know I like to tipple from time to time. That’s why, when I heard about a book called Booze Cakes, I pretty much knew it would be something you lovely readers would like for a giveaway (especially Sara Rose, am I right?). Quirk Books is raffling off one copy of this gorgeous cookbook to a lucky Pink of Perfection reader. Enter to win by leaving a comment about your favorite boozy recipe by midnight EST Friday, July 9. US mailing addresses only.

Update 7/12: And the winner is Amy! Thanks everyone for entering. Loved reading about your recipes!

I don’t feel like waxing poetic today, so I’ll come right out with it. These are amazing. They are simple and quick to throw together with no need for a bowl or mixer, no beaters to clean (or lick). I was looking for a sweet treat to bring to book club, and these was perfect.

Granted, perhaps they were not the perfect item to sit in the sun for five hours on a warm day, but then again, neither am I. Arriving home red-faced and with one sunburned arm (cute, right?), I was comforted to find last summer’s bottle of aloe vera still stashed in the refrigerator door. But for the company, and the lazy day, and the lemonade, it was certainly worth it.

And these were indeed the perfect treat to send packing with my husband to the office on a Sunday afternoon. Who works on a Sunday, you ask? A man who is trying to square away the final details of his first feature film. I like to think these sweet and salty and rich treats saw him through. (In fact, there’s internet proof they did.)

Continue reading “Salted Toffee-Chocolate Graham Cracker Squares” »

All the seasons have their signifiers — the arrival of tomatoes in August, the emergence of pumpkins in the fall — but none seem quite so ecstatic as the harbingers of spring. We get pumped for the arrival of spinach, strawberries, asparagus, and artichokes, and this year, for the first time, I got to know another spring debutante: rhubarb.

Here’s the story: I’ve been eyeing my Grand Diplôme books on the book shelf, knowing its high time for a lesson. But when I pulled out week 7 (oh boy, is it going to take a lifetime to get through all 72 books), the lessons seemed woefully out of season. Who wants to make crème caramel or Bavarian cream in late April, I thought?

But the particularly gorgeous and inspiring May issue of Martha Stewart put everything right again. There were not one but two recipes for custards, which looked perfect and sounded delicious. And that’s when it hit me. The lessons in the Grand Diplôme lessons rarely seem appealing or seasonal, but I think it’s a matter of bad packaging and poor lighting (the photography, as previously established, is vile and a true testament to its age). In other words, from now on, as soon as a lesson rubs me the wrong way or seems stodgy or just plain blah, I’m turning elsewhere for a little inspiration.

And then I’ll turn back to the el grosso ’70s pictures for “the lesson.”

Have you ever had raw rhubarb? I snagged a piece as I was chopping up the stalks and found myself floored at its complex flavors. It’s tart with a citrusy zing that reminded me of lemongrass, which got me thinking about all the wonderful ways in which rhubarb could be used in savory dishes. But as for the recipe at hand, this is perfect spring comfort food. The custard is rich, but each bite is punctuated with the bright pink tartness of rhubarb. The milky caramel wards off the chill in the air and the rhubarb braces you for warmer days ahead.

Continue reading “Grand Diplôme Book 7: Rhubarb Custards” »

In addition to cozy, my love (and yours) of which we’ve discussed at length, I have a thing for wholesomeness. This is why, I think, I find myself so drawn to My Antonia, Anne of Green Gables, and fresh baked cookies. There’s something about them that just seems so guileless and innocent, how could there really be anything wrong with them? Who cares about the loneliness, Matthew’s death, or all that butter?

This is also how I feel about a certain sort of cake. It’s a cake with fruit it in and a dense crumb. The kind of cake that goes magically with a cup of tea on a dreary afternoon. The kind of cake that a mother — real or imagined — ought to bake. And the kind of cake that is just right after a rich and boozy dinner. It will soak up all the wine and cream sauce, brighten the air with citrus, and set things right again. Oh, how I wish at this moment there were still a slice in the kitchen.

Continue reading “Orange Walnut Cake with Greek Yogurt” »

As soon as I saw the page titled “How to Fry” in my Grand Diplôme books, I knew this lesson would really just be an excuse to make beignets. Ever since I sat in the French Quarter late one Friday night in March, my black dress dusted with tell-tale powdered sugar, I’ve collected recipes for these airy pillows of dough. But frying isn’t a cooking technique that gets much play in my repertoire. And so the recipes sat in my delicious account gathering internet dust. That is, they languished there until Super Bowl Sunday, when suddenly I had the gumption and urge to make these. My bravery fueled by coffee, I put on my apron and dug in the cabinets for the splatter guard.

This recipe makes a lot of beignets. As in, you will certainly be tired of flipping dough balls in oil before the dough is all gone. But you should soldier on, cause who wants to waste 7 cups of bread flour? These would be great to make at a brunch party where you could hand off the frying job. What I learned about frying is that it takes no real skill. It’s just a matter of keeping a close eye out for a deepening golden color, and then flipping.

Because I’m not a regular fryer, I didn’t have a thermometer to hang on the side of the pan. This proved to be no big deal and please don’t let it stop you from trying these. I remembered the advice of a Southern friend and kept the gas at medium or medium-low. I decided the oil was hot enough to start frying when a flick of flour sizzled when it hit the surface. I didn’t crowd the pan, and if things seemed like they were getting too intensely sizzly, I dropped the heat a touch more.

All I have to say is, thank heavens for book club. If I hadn’t been able to send six women home with a grease-stained paper lunch sacks filled with these powdered sugar stomach bombs, I don’t know what might have happened. Frankly, I might not be here today.

Continue reading “How To Fry: French Quarter-Style Beignets” »

Since we began the week with cookies, it seems only fitting that we should continue on to ice cream. No, I am not single-handedly trying to wreck any resolutions you have for healthy eating. I think of myself more as the Ambassador of Pleasure, reminding you that every day should have its moments of unadulterated delight, whether that should come in the form of a quiet snowy walk, a tea date with a friend, or, you know, ice cream.

And what’s better than a bowl of ice cream following supper? Since you ask, I can say with the utmost certainty the answer is ice cream drowned in espresso and topped with whipped cream. My better half and I ate this on New Year’s Eve when we knew our energy reserves would be running dangerously low for the ball-drop. (Little did I know then that J. Lo’s sheery spangly catsuit would jolt me right awake.)  Coffee fiend that I am, I expected something delicious. But I did not suspect that I would be struck dumb, awash in the saporous delight of my absolute new favorite dessert. The espresso tempers the sweetness of the ice cream and the whipped cream is just to be ridiculous. It play its part well.

Continue reading “Chocolate Hazelnut Affogato” »

Can we talk about cookies yet?

I know you’re all eating tofu and baby bok choy and feeling like lean, virtuous tigers of unbounded energy, but consider the cookie. So perfectly portioned, sweet, buttery, a little salty. The perfect nibble, really, with an afternoon cup of tea when you feel your will to look at another spreadsheet flagging. And even though I can’t think of a way to convince you that a cookie is the gold standard in nutrition, you can’t deny how utterly wholesome these devils are. What do you think Laura Ingalls Wilder ate on the grassy plains when she sat cooling her heels in a cold brook? What did Jane Austen use to fortify her mind while considering the proper twist to bring Elizabeth and Darcy back together? I cannot prove that it was cookies, but I feel quite certain that the chances are good it was.

Necessity inspired a revelation with this particular recipe. All I happened to have in the freezer was salted butter, undoubtedly something my mom sent me home with in a “your not eating well enough” care package. Here, take four sticks of butter. Anyway, I followed the recipe to a t, using the salted butter and then absentmindedly stirring in additional salt as well. The results were addictive: flat, rich cookies, crisp on the edges, soft in the middle, studded with saltiness. A cure for the Mondays? I won’t make any promises, but it’s worth a shot.

Continue reading “Peanut Butter Cup Cookies” »