recipe | prosciutto wrapped mozzarella

 d

Zan suggested that we stay in and cook for a date night this past Friday. At first, I nixed that idea and suggested we try to get into Rose's Luxury - the restaurant de jour in DC. By Thursday night, we were both worn out from the week and the thought of making our way across town, joining a 2-3 hour long waiting list (for real) and sipping drinks at a bar until we got a table seemed daunting, at best. I circled back to his original idea to stay in, offered to cook, and asked him politely to bring at least one bottle of bubbles from his wine fridge because, you know, it's a day that ends in a "y." And - if you ask me, every Friday should be celebrated with the sound of a pop and fizz.

I came across this unbelievably simple recipe for prosciutto wrapped mozzarella a few months ago. It got buried on my Pinterest board, and I am kicking myself because I could have been enjoying this incredible appetizer/lunch/breakfast/any meal/every meal for months. But at least now I've righted my wrong, right? This is the easiest appetizer I've ever made. It requires two ingredients, an oven, a frying pan, and enough will power not to devour the entire ball in one sitting. Alone.

Fortunately, I had Zan to help me.

ingredients
fresh mozzarella ball
4-6 slices of prosciutto (i say get the real, imported stuff - go big or go home!)

steps
warm up your oven to 350 degrees
use paper towels to dry off the mozzarella ball as best you can. don't worry - they don't stick!
wrap the ball in the prosciutto. it'll stick on its own.
sear the ball on both sides for 1 minute on each in a small frying pan over medium heat
set the ball on a baking sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes. keep an eye on it - when it starts to melt on the sides, it's close to done. much longer, and it will become a melted mess (but that's delicious, too)

i drizzed olive oil on small italian bread slices and toasted them on the same baking sheet
we used a knife our fingers to cut tear off chunks of the ball onto our bread
it pairs delightfully well with bubbles, just saying!
enjoy!

easy breezy baked buffalo wings

When I lived in Japan, I missed foods I didn't expect: buffalo chicken wings, lettuce that wasn't shredded, Raisin Bran cereal, and mostly - pizza and french fries. A friend lovingly mailed me two giant boxes of Raisin Bran, the Marines that my girlfriend Callie and I were kinda sorta dating took us on base for real honest-to-god American fast food (and I learned that in desperate times, I will eat and enjoy Pizza Hut), and I discovered that my little market carried fresh chicken wings, from time to time. (I learned to live with shredded lettuce.)

I'd search the fresh meat like a fiend every day in the market and always - if there was a package of wings - I'd snag them. I finally had the meat to scratch the itch of my craving, but like most Japanese, I didn't have an oven. So I created my own buffalo wings recipe that needed nothing more than boiling water and a toaster oven. I liked them so much (and ate them so often!) that I brought the recipe home with me. Now every time I make wings, I'm homesick for the smell of rice fields and tatami in the summer, and my apartment in Yamaguchi, Japan. Life is funny that way.

easy breezy baked buffalo wings 
wings! (1 pound, half a pound, however many you want to cook)
a pat of butter
buffalo sauce (of your own making or bottled, whatever you prefer - i used sriracha in japan because it's what i had, but here in the state's i rely on good 'ole frank's red when i'm keeping it simple)
salt, pepper, garlic, old bay, other seasonings you love

steps 
heat your oven to 400-450 degrees (i "wing" this recipe every time so forgive my lack of exactness!)
fill a medium-sized pot (or larger for more wings) 2/3 with hot water and bring to a boil
submerge the  wings and boil for, ohhh 5-7 minutes
drain & place the wings on a greased pan
sprinkle the wings generously with your seasonings of choice (i go big on the pepper & garlic, and if i'm feeling crazy, old bay)
bake for about 6-7 minutes to get them nice and crispy
turn the oven to broil and continue to cook them for another 6-8 minutes
while they're broiling, melt a pat of butter and mix it with your buffalo sauce of choice in a bowl that has a fitted lid (a sriracha-honey mix would also be delicious here)
pull the wings out and stick them straight into the sauce - put on the lid and shake to fully coat

let cool just enough to handle and enjoy!

(you might also love dipping the wings in this simple, homemade ranch dressing. i substitute greek yogurt for the sour cream and mayo. it's delicious!)

where to eat in dc | roofers union

Roofers Union, the newest restaurant to grace 18th Street in Adams Morgan, takes elevated food and makes it approachable - in portion sizes, taste, and price point. For instance, Zan loves sweetbreads, and I shudder at the very thought. But at Roofers Union, they've taken the fancy schmancy food and made it into a po'boy sandwich. And you know what? It's delicious! The $12 price-tag doesn't make me cringe, either.

It's the sort of restaurant that falls right into my comfort zone. It feels blue-collar with the old union uniforms hung on the walls, refurbished wood, a bar with standing room only, and a few TVs playing the sporting event of the day. But it has the careful, thoughtful finishes of an upscale restaurant, too - like the wine list curated by someone in the know, a beer list that's even better than the wine list, dishes like the sweetbread po'boy that poke fun of fancy but embrace it, too, and floor-to-ceiling bay windows that create an ambiance of romance, if that's what you want to find.

Roofers Union is under the same owners as Zan's and my neighborhood wine bar, Ripple. My favorite part of the connection to Ripple is that the two restaurants share a chef - Marjorie Meek-Bradley. When she first arrived at Ripple, she offered a bar menu with options like a chicken sandwich and a lamb burger. While Ripple is our go-to spot for wine, we rarely eat there because of the food prices and options (upscale). I was so excited to see a new bar menu that appealed to my tastes, but before we even had a chance to try it, it disappeared. I've only met the chef very casually once or twice in Ripple, and while I don't know her, I have a hunch that the Roofers Union menu is really her style. And if so, I love her style.

The standout dishes for us were the crispy brussels sprouts - fried just to perfection, the sausage trio (the chicken sausage with a pretzel roll was absolute, total heaven, and I will become a regular for that sandwich alone!), and the sriracha-honey glazed chicken thigh sandwich. They offer the same glaze on chicken wings. That sandwich is money, the glaze is crack, and I can only imagine that if I try the wings, I'll never be the same again.

If I had to pick one thing for Roofers Union to work on - it'd be the fries. Ripple's fries have been rumored to be fried in duck fat, truffle oil, and all sorts of other, wonderful things. They are, hands down, some of the best fries in the city. If Roofers Union brought those over, too, it would - without a doubt - be my new favorite restaurant in DC.

where to eat in dc | the red hen

Zan and I spent the afternoon in Georgetown. We didn’t get out of bed until 11, and then we lounged in sweatpants on the couch until 12:30, when Zan went back to bed for a nap. By 2:00pm we were finally dressed and ready to escape cabin fever before it set in. We found parking on a side street right off of Wisconsin Avenue – and somehow, I’m going to jinx us by saying this – we always find parking right there, at just about the same spot, every time we go to Georgetown. It’s a small huge Saturday gift.

We wandered through Frye and Patagonia with no place to be – sipping hot drinks and breathing in the smell of possibilities. Every time I’m in a Patagonia, I feel more adventurous, more sporty, more fit. That’s incredible branding.

Eventually, we made our way to the movie theater (but not without stopping first at the Spice and Tea Exchange for fresh thyme and garlic). We saw Her and talked endlessly after about the beautiful, sticks-with-you script. After, we debated where to go for dinner, but it was never really a question. So we drove all the way across town to my old neighborhood, Bloomingdale, for dinner at the newest “it” spot: The Red Hen.

We got there after 8:30 – a late dinner – and still there was a 2 hour wait for a table. We opted to sit at the bar instead and still waited 40 minutes for seats. I sipped on Prosecco as Zan rotated through nearly their entire list of orange wines. I’ve never seen a wine list with so many orange options. It’s such a funky wine – every one I’ve ever tried – but I dig it.

When we finally got seats, we didn’t waste time putting in our order. We shared a bottle of our favorite of the orange wines and started the meal with a beet salad for him and the Brussels sprouts for me. I don’t usually like beet salads, but the mint and caper vinaigrette kept me coming back for a few more bites. The Brussels were crispy with dill and an anchovy aioli. I wasn’t sure what to think when I read the description, but it goes to show I should think less and try more. They were delicious.

For our main courses, I was torn between several but had to try the much-raved about rigatoni with fennel sausage. I’ve seen it listed as one of the best dishes in DC on several local sites. After my first bite, I described it to Zan as, “better than I could make at home!” Reading that back now, I’m laughing, but I make homemade sauces and cook with Italian sausage so often that I have it down to an art form (for my taste buds at least!). I struggle ordering pasta at restaurants because I always think I could recreate it and should try something I can’t cook on my own. This dish blew anything I could even attempt out of the water.

Zan tried the grilled short ribs with “potato puree.” So he had ribs and mashed potatoes. It was beautifully presented and so deep with flavor that it deserves the fancier name. We finished our bottle of wine for dessert.

It was such a fun dinner. Lately, with so much stress from studying for the GRE and applying to grad school, traveling, and getting his place ready to rent behind us, we’ve been having so much fun together. Fun like we don’t have a care in the world. We may not get many times in life to feel so care-free, and I’m relishing every second of it.

It didn’t hurt that The Red Hen is completely beautiful with an atmosphere that demands care-free fun. The bar is a wide, open arc. The wood fire stove is visible from any spot in the whole place. It smells of homemade sauces and rich meats. It’s romantic without trying too hard to be so. It feels organic, just like the Saturdays we’ve been having lately.

bearnaise | where to eat in dc

"I figured it out!" Zander and I yelled in unison as we walked out of Bearnaise, a new steak frites restaurant from celebrity chef Spike Mendelsohn in Capitol Hill.

We talked over each other with our theories, laughing, hurriedly walking and shivering to the car. It went from an everlasting summer to an intemperate fall in DC in a matter of seconds, it seems.

We were talking about the table next to us at dinner - two women chatting up a storm, and a man scarfing down his food - and wine even faster - and barely saying a word. The two women seemed like friends who were still getting to know each other at times, and at others like long lost soulmates, finding their way back to one another.

As we received our soup or salad course - the first of three in the prix fixe menu - the group next to us were finishing theirs. The older of the two women, dressed fashionably in a black shawl and boots with sleek, straight hair, flirted with the server just enough to get the extra touches: "try this sauce," and "maybe I should get you soup instead of a salad."

Zan and I communicated verbally about our soups - I savored every bit of the salty cheese and carmelized onions in my French Onion, and he lauded the unique balance of flavors in the creamy fall vegetable soup he tried. And we talked nonverbally about the interesting table next to us... They were fairly loud and boisterous - an excited energy about them.

"What's their story?" we silently asked each other.

We got a few clues throughout the meal.

We observed the table order mussels and banter over whose sauce was best while we chowed down on 14 ounce ribeyes. I couldn't finish mine, but I made a valiant attempt that left me over-the-top (of my jeans) full. But it was seasoned just right, and the server was weirdly brusque when I asked his opinion about the four sauces offered with the steak frites, "I don't know. I just don't like it." But he was wrong about the spicy bearnaise, and it was delectable.

Meanwhile, the younger woman got up to use the restroom, and the older woman engaged the guy - it seemed like she wanted to get to know him. And she referenced a flight in the morning - was she here for work, or specifically to see these two?

The server swerved around to the mystery table, who were enjoying two desserts, and the older woman - I think she was a city woman through and through - maybe from New York? - she said the spices were strange in the apple tart, and that brusque server turned smiley and sweet and wouldn't take no for an answer and brought them mousse instead. 

For the record, we had the apple tart, and the pumpkin spice in it was unique but it worked and it tasted like apple and fall and Halloween and Thanksgiving all rolled into one.

By the time we left, they were still chatting - the two women that is - and the lone ranger braving it alone at the far end of the table. As we put on our coats, we saw the older woman put down a credit card for the entire table.

"The guy is definitely the younger girl's boyfriend," I said as we neared the car. "But was he an awkward third wheel, or was he there to specifically meet the older woman?"

"I think they are sisters, and the older one is in town to meet the younger woman's new boyfriend," Zan finished his theory as we opened the doors.

I nodded. I had a hunch he might be right.

Sometimes, I'm not sure if my favorite part of trying a new restaurant is the food or the people watching. At Bearnaise, both were spectacular.

if you go...

Bearnaise

price range: $23-50/person

side dish pick: bearnaise sauce drizzled brussels sprouts

tip: all wine bottles are $40, including sparkling!

chipotle-style salad bowl with homemade pico de gallo

Here's something about me that most people don't know: I worked at Chipotle my first semester in college. That used to really embarrass me. I served tables from the age of 16, and that never bothered me - that felt cool and like a Waite rite of passage because my mom and brother both worked in the restaurant industry for long periods of time. Getting off track for a minute, my earliest memories of eating out are at McDonalds. I can picture the exact McDonalds in Newnan, Georgia - it's still there today. My mom would pay the cashier, and my brother and I - no older than 10 and 6, respectively, would calculate what the 15% tip would be if it were our check at a full-service restaurant. My mom, she's serious about tipping and treating service professionals with respect, as we should all be. But back to Chipotle.

I desperately needed a job. I learned the hard way - after packing my stuff and moving to Nebraska and into a dorm room and starting a full class load fall semester - that just because you get an anticipated financial aid package doesn't mean it's going to cover all the costs. Mine didn't. So I searched for a serving job, but they were all taken. My last option, with heavy feet, I walked into Chipotle and filled out an application. I got hired on the spot. For the next three months, I wore my black visor and embossed shirt, heated tortillas, filled bowls, and desperately avoided eye contact with anyone who might recognize me.

I felt like fast-casual service was less than a step away from flipping burgers, and I was young and entitled and thought it was beneath me. I found a serving job the next semester and a position on campus, and I quit Chipotle. But it was a humbling experience, and I'm glad I went through it. (Another life lesson from my mom, "A paycheck is a paycheck.")

They treated me well. I liked my coworkers and my boss, my shifts were enjoyable, and I totally dug becoming a pro at wrapping those gigantic burritos. That said, it was years after I quit before I ever entered another Chipotle.

Man, I was missing out. I am the first to say that authentic, hole-in-the-wall Mexican joints are some of my favorite places on the planet. I have a favorite in DC (Dulcinea), and I will vouch on my life that it's the best Mexican in the city. But there are days when I don't want to trek to the restaurant, and all I can see when I close my eyes are visions of a bowl layered with lettuce, brown rice, pepper & onion, steak, pico de gallo, corn salsa, the hot salsa, and a small dollop of sour cream and pinch of cheese. Perfect. It is truly delicious. And truly fattening. And truly pricey, when you start craving it 249 times a week.

So I make my own.

When I do go to Chipotle now, I resist jumping behind the counter to roll one of those beasts. It takes skill to not break the tortilla, I'm telling you. And then I mentally calculate a tip and throw it in the tip jar because that's what my mom taught me to do and because sometimes Chipotle is how a kid from Georgia pays her way through school.

diy chipotle-style salad bowl (makes 3 bowls)
head of romaine lettuce, chopped
1 cup brown rice, cooked (on the stove or in a rice cooker - add fresh-squeezed lime juice and a dash of cilantro to get all the flavor chipotle's has)
1 small onion, sliced into half moons
1 red pepper, sliced into strips
1 green pepper, sliced into strips
1 large clove garlic, minced
3 links hot mexican chorizo, skin off
pico de gallo & any other salsas of choice
cheese, sour cream, avocado (optional)

heat a skillet on medium-high heat and begin cooking your chorizo. when it's about halfway done, add onion, pepper, and minced garlic to the skillet. cook the vegetables in the grease from the chorizo. my chorizo yieled little to no fat/grease, so i added a teaspoon of olive oil to cook the vegetables. when the vegetables are slightly softened and aromatic, and the meat is cooked through, pull off the heat and drain on paper towels (if needed). layer your bowl!

pico de gallo (about 1-1.5 cups)
2 roma tomatoes, chopped
1/2 diced red onion
1 diced jalapeno
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 lime, juiced
2 teaspoons chopped cilantro
pinch of salt

de-seed your tomatoes (i use a knife and scrape out the innards to keep it simple) and dice. combine with all other ingredients in a medium-sized mixing bowl. use more jalapeno and garlic per your taste. squeeze the lime juice into the mixture. mix and chill for 30 minutes to an hour before scooping onto your bowl and digging into with tortilla chips.

red hook winery might be brooklyn's best kept secret

When I was six, I begged my mom to take me to church. We'd just moved to Newnan, Georgia, and all the new friends I'd made went to church. All of them. But we didn't. My mom didn't seem too keen on the idea. My brother joined the begging, too. We didn't beg like normal kids, though - with "please, please, please" pleading. We were calculated. We listed reasons it would serve our emotional growth and help us adjust to life in a brand new city. We made moral arguments. We went as far as to convince Mom that she, too, needed friends and what better place to make them than in God's House? 

We tried out a Catholic church, and it was the actual worst. My Mom was raised Catholic, so it was a natural first attempt for her. We were forced to dress up, and there wasn't a kid's oriented class so we suffered through what I suppose was a Mass? I don't know - ever since I nearly died of boredom that day, I've subconsciously blocked out Catholicism entirely. 

The second try was a charm. My brother's buddy Joseph said we had to try Crossroads, a laid back place of worship that was fun. (Our friends really had us convinced that church was practically a dance club it was so cool. Peer pressure is very weird in Southern Baptist Georgia.)

The next Sunday, we drove less than a mile from our house and turned left down a quarter mile dirt and gravel road. As we wound through a lane of trees, a concrete warehouse came into view. Surely we were lost. We looked for an address or a sign on the gray building. It wasn't until we hit a makeshift parking lot and saw smiling faces on dressed down in jeans church-goers that we knew we were right at home. 

Fast forward 22 years later (holy shit when did I age that fast?), and I experienced the same wholly happy and perfectly-at-home feeling when Zan's, Andy's, and my cab turned down a street that started off Brooklyn chic and dead-ended into warehouses, small urban gardens, a grungy pier, and makeshift signs with giant arrows pointing to various small businesses.We'd found our way - a no easy feat - to Red Hook, Brooklyn, home of Red Hook Winery, my new religion in this very strange church-winery comparison. 

Zan has been an urban winery enthusiast for some time now. He's such a big city guy - down to his very core - and sees the genius in bringing grapes and wine-making to concrete patches and small garden swaths. After taking in Red Hook Winery - located on a pier in an old warehouse, I fully agree. While the winery grows its grapes in Long Island, wine-making happens on the premise. The open space feels like a loft with urban chic influences, tons of cork, and a barrel room in plain sight. The wines are reminiscent of the Finger Lakes and even the ones we tasted in Niagara - regions where cold-weather grapes do well. 

Red Hook opened in 2008 and has cultivated a loyal following. Two Napa wine makers run the show - Abe Schoener and Robert Foley, both really interested in eclectic, unique wines. But they don't run it in tandem... instead, each makes his own wines with separate labels. It's like two wineries in one. It'd be so rad to be trained and experienced enough to do a blind tasting and be able to pick their wines apart - is that just me? 

I thoroughly enjoyed the Reserve Tasting of 6 wines. It was laid back - just the three of us with the general manager and one of the wine-makers coming in and out telling us tidbits about one wine or another. After, we wanted to continue to enjoy the view and the day on their comfortable pillows and couches with a full glass, but they aren't allowed to serve full pours, only tasting. It's interesting - and a bit strange. But they are generous about allowing you to re-taste wines until you figure out just the ones you might want to purchase.

The entire Red Hook neighborhood experienced significant damage from Hurricane Sandy over a year ago. Impressively, the entire place felt rejuvenated, nearly completely rebuilt, and ready to keep growing. We wandered into a handmade chocolate shop and distillery, where tours are offered, and tastings are up for grabs. After, we grabbed sandwiches at Defontes, one of Brooklyn's best. 

Industrial neighborhoods with character and style get me every time- from a warehouse church when I was 6 to Red Hook - Brooklyn's best kept secret. 

if you go...

red hook winery

regular tasting: $5 (3 wines)

reserve tasting: $12 (6 wines)

my pick: 2010 seneca reisling (dry, fruity nose, complex)

get there: ikea ferry from manhattan

cab, bike, or bus B61 from brooklyn heights/downtown brooklyn

recipe | matt's onion rings

I thoroughly enjoy watching my roommate and one of my closest friends, Matt, make dinner. He gets these intense cravings (like the rest of us), and he finds a way to make them happen. No matter how limited our ingredient selection may be, he finds a way - it puts a whole new spin on "where there's a will..." Last night he wanted chocolate chip cookies. We didn't have chocolate chips, and he didn't want to take the time to bake cookies. So he found a single serving recipe for cookie dough... that worked mostly fine without the chocolate. 

Last week he wanted onion rings one night something fierce. He opined the quintessential steakhouse "blooming onion" and the way diners perfect big, fat onion rings. He said all this as he tossed an onion from hand to hand, his mind working through the possibilities. I piped up and suggested an egg mixture and rolling it in flour. He nodded; he'd already gotten there. 10 minutes later, he set this heaping plate of lightly battered and fried thin onion rings in front of me, and I couldn't resist trying one... or two... or three. 

Damn him, now I'll be making onion rings on the regular. 

Matt's Onion Rings 

one medium-large onion cut into rings

1/2 cup flour 

a pinch of salt & pepper

a teaspoon Creole or Old Bay seasoning (or chili powder) 

1-2 eggs

2 cups canola oil (or oil of choice) 

1/2 cup panko or breadcrumbs of choice (may use more or less)

saucepan 

how to make them

heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat - drop a bit of flour into it - if it sizzles, it's hot enough

crack your egg(s) into a wide bowl and beat well

mix together flour + seasonings (creole optional but yummm) and lay out on a large plate

on a second plate, lay out your bread crumbs

dredge your raw onion rings through the egg mixture, evenly coat with flour, and lightly bread with the crumbs

using a fork or tongs, place the coated rings into the saucepan (don't overcrowd but place as many as comfortably fits in at one time) 

cook for 1-2 minutes, until golden brown

drain excess oil on paper towels

enjoy!

other things by me...

tokyo summer festivals on viator

cookies and cream cupcakes with oreo cream cheese frosting

When I volunteered to make cupcakes for two colleagues' birthdays today, I don't know what I was thinking. I ran the Capitol Hill Classic 10k yesterday morning, and then needed to get ingredients and make homemade cupcakes. I was too tired to stand, let alone think through a recipe.

Zander came to my rescue when he suggested cookies and cream cupcakes. I'll let you in on a little secret about Zander: he loves Oreos. I knew I wanted a simple recipe, one that uses Oreos, and I wanted to top it off with a new take on cream cheese frosting. I couldn't find a recipe that met all of those wants, so I smushed a bunch of them together to come up with this one.

These guys are so good I'm almost tempted to have a second. And they're so simple to make, you can do it after running a 10k.

ingredients for cookies and cream cupcakes (adapted from Brown Eyed Baker)
makes 24 cupcakes
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
16 tablespoons unsalted butter (2 sticks) at room temperature
1 cup buttermilk (or sour cream)*
2 large eggs at room temperature
2 large egg yolks at room temperature
3 teaspoons vanilla + a few drops
12-18 crushed Oreos 

ingredients for Oreo cream cheese frosting  (adapted from Foodess)
8 oz cream cheese (1 block) at room temperature
4-5 tablespoons butter at room temperature
1 tablespoon vanilla
1.5-2 cups confectioners sugar
12-18 crushed Oreos
12 Oreo halves for decorating

cupcake steps 
1. preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a muffin pan with liners.
2. using a large bowl for a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt (dry ingredients)
3. beat in butter (softened), buttermilk (or sour cream if you prefer, but I think the buttermilk adds to the "cookies and cream" texture and taste), egg and egg yolks, and vanilla. Beat these at medium speed until smooth and creamy - about 30 seconds. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl with a rubber spatula.
4. fold in the crushed oreos until evenly distributed
5. bake for 20-24 minutes until the tops are pale gold and an inserted toothpick comes out nearly clean. let cool completely

frosting steps 
1. make sure your butter and cream cheese are soft. you can use a microwave to help in this process, but it's best to let them come to room temperature naturally. mix together on medium speed in a small bowl using a stand mixer until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes) mix in vanilla for 30 seconds
2. with speed turned to low, incorporate the confectioners sugar 1/2 cup or so at a time
3. with mixer still set to low, add in the crushed oreos until fully beat in. you will still have some oreo chunks - that's okay! if you want a crunchier outcome, fold in the cookies by hand instead of beating them
4. chill the frosting to thicken it
5. ice the cupcakes and serve with half an Oreo on top

*Baking with buttermilk: I'm new to it, and it's... interesting. It creates a heartier, thicker cupcake with a distinct texture and flavor. Some people die for them... It's growing on me. I liked it in this recipe to help create a cookies and cream effect.

Do you bake with buttermilk? What's your favorite recipe that incorporates buttermilk?

where to eat in dc | le diplomate

I took French in high school because my Mom spoke near fluent Spanish, and I was too contrary for my own good. My brother smartly took Spanish when he was in high school, four years ahead of me. He and my mom would stand out on our back porch swatting at mosquitos as twilight neared, laughing and jabbering in Spanish. It sounds like I took French because I was jealous, but I just wanted to be different.

My french teacher, Ms. White, wore color as well as Washington politicians wear black and navy blue. She gave us extra credit on tests for using phrases like, "j'ai oublié tout mon français" - I forgot all my French - in lieu of answers we didn't know. Every semester, our class threw a petite fête that celebrated French food, music, and cinema. I haven't been as excited by and curious about French culture as I was during those parties since then.

Until I ate at Le Diplomate, the new French restaurant in Logan Circle here in DC.

Zander had reservations for three weeks. It's the "in" spot right now, and it deserves that accolade. House wine is served in carafes and half-carafes, in true European fashion. One long booth brings patrons together, and only a small separation of the tables keeps parties intimate and apart.

I raved all night long. I loved the large, open bar space that feels communal, and I loved the simple touches - a frosty cool glass of dry French rose, the bread table that I wanted to reach out and touch, the impeccable service, and mouth-watering menu. Zan started with the beet salad (poorly pictured above), while I opted for the hot asparagus soup (also poorly pictured above). He loved the beet salad, but I swear to you Scout's Honor style that the asparagus soup is one of the single best courses I have ever tasted. I think he had first course remorse, personally.

Zan chose the duck breast with duck confit and a farro salad for his main course. I've had great duck, but this takes the blue ribbon. The thinly sliced duck breast is succulent, a perfect medium rare, and flavored so nicely I wonder if they couldn't make a savory candy out of it. 

I chose a traditional dish: steak frites. The pat of garlic butter melts instantly on the seared steak and drizzles down the sides. Some may think it's too garlicky, but I say that's impossible. The fries, delicious as they were, may have been the meal's only bite short of perfection; they were over-salted. I would eat this meal every day if our hearts were built for it.

Stuffed to overflowing, we couldn't imagine ordering dessert. And then we did. It took us three weeks to get into this place, who knows when we might be able to do it again! The dark chocolate Napoleon is a beautiful, slightly complicated sight. It marries a dark chocolate ice cream with a cookie crunch and places it beside paper thin sheets of dark chocolate sandwiching milk and dark chocolate mousse all on top of a cookie. Zander licked the plate. He beat me to it.

Ms. White introduced me to France, and Le Diplomate took me there for an evening. Next step, a plane ticket straight to Paris.

where to eat in atlanta | brunch at rosebud

Let's get the bad news out of the way: By Atlanta law, restaurants cannot serve alcohol until noon. That's an improvement over my years serving tables in Newnan, Georgia back when Coweta County was dry on Sundays. But it's a disappointment coming from DC, where brunch isn't complete if it isn't preceded by the words "bottomless mimosas." The food at Rosebud in the hip Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta far makes up for its champagne deficit.

I'm fortunate to have two friends from high school middle school that I still call my closest. Melanie is one, of course, and the other is Randall. I wrote about our mud hike and delicious lunch at Thai Square after his last visit to DC. I have a picture of Randall and me hanging in my room from a 7th grade science nighttime "trip" outside of school to look at the stars, or an eclipse, or something in the sky. We both have braces, and we're happy, typical 13-year-olds. I smile every time I catch a glance of us back then.

The three of us are rarely in the same city at the same time, so we took advantage of us all being in Atlanta a few weekends ago to catch up over brunch. Randall, the only one of us who lives in the city, suggested Rosebud and got us reservations. Rosebud serves a twist on a traditional southern-style brunch, complete with cheese grits and bread pudding french toast, and fried chicken so good I'd have just about eaten it off the floor.

We decided on sharing the bread pudding french toast as a "starter." Spoiler alert: we never finished it. We tried our hardest, though, and we did make a substantial dent in it. The portion sizes are generous, to say the least. It was, hands down, some of the best french toast I've ever had. In fact, I'll just say it - it was the best. The texture of the bread pudding made the dish creamier than it is traditionally, and the rich, warm real maple syrup had me sticking my fork back in for "just one more bite" more times than I needed. I loved the addition of the fried egg on top, the yolk adding another level of flavor that I've craved ever since leaving the poor remains on that table.

I'd like to be able to tell you about the various other brunch dishes Rosebud serves, but we all ordered the same thing. Great minds think alike, and all that. But honestly, when there's an option for fried chicken on homemade biscuits with sausage gravy and a fried egg to top it off, who sees anything else?

We would have done well to order two of these monsters instead of three. Melanie and I barely made it through half of ours (Randall didn't have a problem finishing his). It was so good Melanie and I took our leftovers to our hotel for Ashley's wedding and snacked on them while we got ready. We couldn't stop. It's no surprise that an Atlanta restaurant has mastered fried chicken, but it doesn't mean I appreciate it any less. This chicken was decadent - juicy on the inside, crispy on the outside, and the key - flavorful. It's so easy for fried chicken to come out bland or tasting like the oil in which it was fried. Rosebud's take on it is moist without being greasy and seasoned to perfection.

The dish is served with grits or potatoes, and as true Georgians, we all went for the grits. Randall and I opted for cheese on ours. I've ordered grits at every brunch I've been to in DC that offers them, and I've been disappointed every single time. I grew up on Mom-made, homemade grits. I know the real deal. It should be bursting with flavor - peppery and savory, the cheese adding a punch of saltiness. The grits at Rosebud reminded me that they can be done right.

We finished eating at 11:50. Don't worry, we saved room for a round... or two... of mimosas for dessert.

if you go... 

rosebud

1397 n. highland ave ne atlanta

price range: $10-$15/entree

$7 mimosas or a $27 for a carafe of oj & a bottle of bubbly

menu highlights: fried chicken, "big nasty" (fried chicken sandwich)

mi queso, su queso | real mexican cheese queso dip recipe

I beg of you -- please reconsider before you make a Velveeta-based dip for your Cinco de Mayo festivities. There's a better way. It's simple! And really, really delicious. I can't stress that part enough. Trust me on this.

My office is having an early Cinco celebration with a dip-off. I get crazed about these competitions. I search high and low for the perfect recipes, I go so far overboard I can't even see the ship, and I win. Every time. Knock on wood, because the competition doesn't start for another few hours!

I planned to make Queso Fundido con Chorizo (a baked, sizzling, smoldering dish of melted cheese, flavored with chorizo, jalapenos, peppers, and onions), but logistically, how could I get that to work still sizzling? I couldn't figure out a way so I decided to go with queso dip. I took a trip to El Progresso, a Mexican market in Mt. Plesant, and picked up some Crema, or Mexican sour cream, and a variety of Queso Fresco cheeses.

I searched recipes for blanco (white) queso dip using real cheese, and they were few and far between. The ones I did find had questionable reviews - multiple people said it turned out gloppy, and the cheese separated, creating an unappetizing mess. After finally finding half a dozen similar recipes with nice-looking results, I adapted what I liked from each to make my own.

I made a simple roux - melted better, milk, and flour to start. I sauteed onion, jalapeno peppers, and garlic next - my house smelled like a Mexican restaurant (my version of heaven, I think). I stirred in tomatoes and cilantro, then slowly mixed in cheese on low heat- half of which I grated from a block, the other half was shredded. I mixed in half a cup of Mexican crema to finish, testing for taste, and then I swooned. It's spicy, cheese, rich in flavor, and fragrant. This is the real (Tex-Mex) deal.

real cheese queso, adapted from Gourmet Veggie Mama and Homesick Texan

ingredients
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup milk (whole milk or a mixture of any with half and half is best)
1/2 medium white onion (mine measured 1 cup)
2 finely diced jalapenos
4-5 cloves garlic, minced (i use a cheese grater to do this)
2-3 tomatoes, diced
5 cups cheese in total -- i used mexican queso fresco (asadero) - you can use monterrey jack or cheddar
1/2 cup chopped cilantro (to taste)
1/2 cup crema or sour cream

steps 

1. melt the butter n a large saucepan over medium or medium-low heat (my burners are HOT so i used medium-low)
2. saute the onion and jalapenos until fragrant (3 minutes) + add the garlic and saute for 1 more minute
3. add flour and mix until it bubbles (it may seem too dry, but get the flour completely mixed in, it will even out)
4. stir in the milk a little at a time, breaking up lumps as you go. keep stirring until the mixture thickens (this won't take very long) 
5. add the tomatoes and stir well
6. lower the heat to very low 
7. add the cheese 1/4-1/2 cup at a time, stirring until it is completely melted each time before adding the next batch. 
8. once all the cheese has been mixed in, mix in the crema
9. serve!  

brunch at boundary stone | where to eat in dc

You know those brunches when two hours pass in a matter of seconds, it seems, and the food is just right, and the mimosa glasses are never empty, and you're laughing too hard to remember to take pictures to document every sip and bite on your blog? Man, they don't happen often enough. But I relish them when they do. I relish every moment like that - so present and alive and buzzing with energy and friendship. I live for that.

I had one of those brunches a few weekends ago at Boundary Stone in Bloomingdale. I've been a fan of the whiskey bar since it opened a few years back. It arguably has the best wings in the District, the entrance is through an old barn door, the beer is local, they always have bubbly on hand, and it's in one of my favorite neighborhoods. For the too-short time that I lived in Bloomingdale, I frequented their happy hour ($4 wings), and Zander and I occasionally stopped in for a night cap. It's a neighborhood bar that welcomes you home, even if it's your first time there.

When my girlfriends Clare and Sara and I met up to try their new full-service brunch with a bottomless drink option, I didn't know what to expect. The food has always been great, but I couldn't put my mind around exactly how brunch would work. It works well.

I arrived at noon, and the restaurant was full but not overflowing. I waited, looking like a wallflower, for five minutes as a couple sitting at a booth inside paid. A friendly server noticed me eying the table and quickly cleared and cleaned it for me to sit. I ordered bottomless mimosas while I waited for my girlfriends to arrive. And they. are. strong. I'd expect nothing less from the Stone. If they're going to charge $12 for bottomless mimosas, they're not going to hand you a glass of orange juice with a splash of champagne - they care about quality too much. They also used fresh orange juice, and the difference it makes is huge.

Sara and Clare and I ordered seitan wings to share, and I discovered that vegetarian "meat" isn't as scary as it looks. Then again, I'd probably gnaw on a tree trunk if it were covered in their wing sauce. At some point - oh, 30, 45 minutes, maybe an hour later - we finally got around to looking at the brunch menu and ordering. I tried the chorizo sandwich ($13). It's served with a fried egg and green salsa on top and roasted breakfast potatoes on the side. If I could have fit another sandwich in my full stomach, I would have ordered a second. Clare had the vegetable quiche and gave it rave reviews. Sara ordered off the lunch menu and tried the half smoke - also delicious.

We drank and talked for so long that when Zander came to pick me up (sweet boyfriend!), he ended up joining us for a little bit.

Sometimes I forget that having brunch isn't just about the newest restaurant or the hottest scene or the best chef in town. It's really easy to get caught up in wanting to try everything and photograph it all along the way. Having brunch with Clare and Sara was my favorite brunch I've had in ages. It was about sharing an experience more than experiencing the food. Though, it doesn't hurt that the food was damn good, too. And those mimosas. I'm still rehydrating after those.

if you go...

boundary stone

116 rhode island ave nw

@boundarystonedc

fiola | where to eat in dc

 the bar at Fiola

Every once in a while, you need to shut down your inner voice saying, "It costs how much?" and experience decadence. It's an incredibly difficult thing for me to do. I'm hopelessly reasonable when it comes to finances. (If only I could transfer some of that reasonableness to, say, any other area of my life!) When it comes to money, Zander and I complement each other. He appreciates good food and good wine and the beauty of occasional indulgences. He appreciates the restorative - emotionally, physically, and mentally - powers of a good meal. He knows that romance lies beyond a glass (or two) of Prosecco at an intimate bar. All the while, I keep him grounded - sometimes you have to find that romance in things far more practical and light on the wallet. 

But this blog post isn't about practical. It's about that romance and indulgence at an intimate bar. It's about Fiola Da Fabio Trabocchi, one of D.C.'s most sough after, romantic, delicious dining experiences. 

For our first visit we opted to sit at the bar. We started with a few glasses of wine; we just barely missed the happy hour that ends at 6:00. We started with the bar menu, comprised of elevated takes on typical bar food. We tried most of the menu, starting with the Mozzarella - Neapolitan buffalo mozzarella fritters. The salty Parmesan, the crispy breading, the flavorful mozzarella, the light marina sauce spooned in the bottom of the bowl all came together to form one of the best appetizers I've ever tasted. I almost ordered another serving.

Next, we tried La Piadina - grilled flatbread with proscuitto and stracchino cheese. I really enjoy Italian cheeses, is what I've discovered. The above-average sized portion was filling - I had to wait a while to order the next bite. To say this wasn't our favorite dish of the evening should hold no credence - it's great, it just didn't pack as much flavor as the others.

Our final appetizer was the veal meatballs. These succulent, moist meatballs are covered with tomato and a sunny side up egg. I kissed my fingers and threw them in the air with appreciation. Zander would come back to Fiola just for these. I would, too.

If you're wondering just how much food two people can eat in the course of one evening looking at these pictures, so am I. Apparently, it's a lot. Zander ordered the oysters before his entree. From the sound of him throwing them back, they're a winner, too.

For his entree, Zan tried the Tortellini of Cotechino Sausage with oyster mushrooms, veal sweetbreads, and green asparagus. I tried a bite of the broth and a tortellini, and even I - who am squeamish about sweetbreads, truly enjoyed it. The tortellini is rich and filling, the sweetbreads not overpowering, and the asparagus adds a great crunch to round off the dish. He loved it.

Now let's talk about this burger. It might odd that I went to a fine-dining Italian restaurant and ordered a burger, but would it be as strange if I told you it's quite possibly the best burger I've ever had? It really was. I have daydreamed about that burger. The $22 behemoth is a tenderloin patty topped with smoked provolone cheese, pancetta (swoon), and con fit tomato, and is served with rosemary fries. After all the food we'd had over the course of a few hours, I couldn't eat more than half of it, but Zan was more than happy to help me polish it off. The rosemary adds a nice flavor to the fries, though they were just a tad too salty.

Zan and I left with a tab that nearly made me faint, but a meal like this - that transports you to Italy for an evening, and lavishes you with flavor and decadence that make you close your eyes to savor each bite, it's worth it every once in a while.

if you go... 

fiola

601 pennsylvania ave nw

bar menu

happy hour: 4-6

dinner menu