russian dessert blinis

My roommate Matt, who blogs over at 27aday, moved to D.C. from L.A. last June. He and his former roommates in L.A. started a weekly tradition of homemade "family" dinners - each meal inspired by different countries drawn out of a hat. An appetizer from Poland, an entree from Namibia and a dessert from New Zealand, for example. A few weeks ago he pitched the idea for our house, and I jumped right up on the culinary tour bandwagon. Instead of each course from a different country, we're doing one meal per. Matt's doing most of the cooking, as he's using it for a new blog project of his that I won't reveal until he unveils it, but I'm more than pleased to be a tasting guinea pig.

We drew Russia for week one. Matt chose to make the popular dish Beef Straganoff. The traditional version of this dish is very different than what we see in American kitchens and restaurants. My first thought when he chose it was, "meh." It brought to mind images of canned mushroom soup, limp mushrooms, egg noodles, and that soppy creamy texture that needs a lot of work to be considered even edible, in my book. The real version, as he found out, involves no canned soup, arguably no mushrooms (there's a serious culinary debate over that one!), is served with pan fried potatoes, and the beef tenderloin is sauteed or flash fried. The real version? It's great.

Matt opted to serve our beef stroganoff with Russian blinis. Blinis, not bellinis - which got me really excited (mmm prosecco!), are flat pancake-like dough fried with onion. They're served with savory items - like stroganoff! or caviar, beef strips, etc. They've also been traditionally served with honey or jam.

I'm glad I had my narrow opinion on beef stroganoff challenged. You'll never find egg noodles on my dinner table in this dish again. Side note: we also made fried potatoes to try them, as well, and unanimously voted the beef better with them than the blinis.

Many cultures have these pancake-like dishes. I imagine they come from peasant roots, don't you? They're simple, cheap and can feed quite a few people. And for Russia's purposes, they're warm and filling. 

As I ate them with the warm beef, I immediately thought of crêpes and imagined ways to make them sweet, instead of savory (of course I did...). Luckily, we had quite a bit of batter left - enough for 4-5 more blinis, and two ended up being more than enough.

We were out of Nutella - my first choice for a quick dessert blini, so I scavenged some more. I skipped the onion on the skillet and used a pat of butter instead to fry the batter. After letting it brown on one side, I flipped it to brown on the other. I dusted brown sugar on top, added a few drops of vanilla, and sprinkled on a small handful of chocolate chips. I folded over a third of the blini on top of itself, then rolled it the rest of the way. Voila! An American-Russian-French inspired dessert. That's what America's all about, right?

Russian Blinis

you'll need...

• 1 cup flour (be prepared! these will be runny. for a heartier blini, add more flour, up to an addl cup)
• 3 cups milk
• 2-3 eggs, mixed in one at a time
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil (for frying) *you can substitute cooking spray or butter
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• half an onion, peeled

here's how...

• beat eggs with milk. 
• add salt & flour and stir, stir, stir (mix well)! 
• beat out the lumps or drain, if lumps persist. 
• spear your onion with a fork and dip it in oil (or skip this step and use cooking spray/butter). rub the onion along the pan to grease it every time you make a new blini. 
• pour a thin layer of batter into the pan (we used a little less than 1/2 cup for each blini). 
• cook until lightly browned - about 2 minutes, flip & brown the other side.

dessert blini...

• skip the onion & use butter instead to grease the pan 
• brown on one side & flip
• dust with brown sugar (a large pinch, more by taste)
• add a few drops of vanilla (no more than 1/2 teaspoon)
• sprinkle with chocolate chips
• roll and serve with milk (mmmmm I want another now!)

run the world & other new year's resolutions

 

How indulgent and narcissistic is it of me to post gigantic photos of Theo sleeping in black and white? It's pretty awful. I kind of hate myself for it. If it helps at all (spoiler: it will only make it worse), they're only in black and white to disguise how bad the exposure was on them. Look at me using words like "exposure" to mean things other than "indecent!" So anyway...

2013 New Year's Resolutions (it's in caps. it must be serious. let's all be serious now.)

• run 365 miles (I now have "run this town" stuck in my head.)
• run a half marathon (i'm eying this race. running 5 miles straight is a physical impossibility - fact, so naturally i'm prepared for my life to end come 13.1!)
• two passport stamps (Mexico is locked and loaded for February. the world is my oyster that fits in the narrow margins of my checking account for the other!)
• hike 100 miles (Zander is reading this and groaning, LOUDLY, right now. Yippeee!)
• try a new fitness activity (read: an excuse to take a Bollywood class. as though anyone needs one.)
• try one new restaurant & recipe per month (drunken noodles in 12 variations is acceptable.)
• blog it all

I'll be tracking my rather lofty goal of running 365 miles and hiking 100 miles this year here on the blog. I'll hopefully have that set up here in the next week. Until then - I'll just tell you every day. So far, I've run 1.6 miles and hiked 0. I know, you're impressed. #run365

Tomorrow: how I turned Russian pancakes into crepes. Hey, I never said "resolution: eat less dessert." I'm not insane (completely)!

I'd love to hear about your resolutions. Do you believe in them? Why or why not? If not, do you set broad goals in other ways?

welcome! to a new blog and 2013! + a holidays recap

Pinch me! Someone pinch me! It's 2013, and I have a new blog design and URL! This space is cleaner, prettier, and reflective of me. Don't be fooled, I'm not that talented! It's all because of the great Bobbi over at ready to blog. I can't wait to watch this little blog that could grow into a real steam engine in 2013.

This year is going to be big with an italicized big. I hope so, you know? I hope this year drives me to the brink of insanity with all its surprises and wonders and miles on trails and in running shoes and on frequent flyer accounts. I can only dream I'll be overwhelmed with choices in my career and personal life, tested to see how much I can grow and stretch (in character, not pants size, eh?), and given multiple opportunities to present my passport for stamping. (Side bar: I know stamps are all the rage now - making your own and being crafty, but my favorite kind are still Vintage Any Airport, Circa the Advent of Air Travel.) I am forward-looking, filled with hope and really freaking pumped for 2013. It doesn't hurt one little bit that 2012 ended like the party won't stop - with my lovin' man, the funniest roommate ever (try to challenge it!), friends, family and LOBSTAH killing. That last one is awkward, but it happened! I have photographic evidence to prove it, albeit blurry proof! I'm dating my very own Dexter, serial crustacean killer.

I spent Christmas in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware with Zander's family. I'll tell ya what... "We're not in Newnan, GA anymore, Theo!" was my refrain. If you follow me on twitter, perchance you witnessed the smorgasbord of intoxicated tweets, hashtagged, wait for it, #bourgiexmas (no, no, I will not storify this. Okay, I will consider it.). And by intoxicated, I mean wasted, y'all. With. His. Parents. My family doesn't drink. I mean, my mom will get drunk on a single frozen strawberry daquiri like nobody's business, but that doesn't count, does it? Probably not. Zan's parents put all parents to shame. Hell, they put us to shame. We went through approximately 18,000 bottles of wine on Christmas Eve. Zan and I were on our hungover deathbeds pretty much all day Christmas. The 'rents? Nothin' to it! Up and at 'em like kids on, well, Christmas morning! His parents spoiled me silly. Their generosity blew me away. I've never had a Christmas like this one, and I'll never, ever, not ever, forget it. I love my family, and I missed them terribly (the proof is in the drunken hour long phone call to my mother at 1:00am Christmas Eve... wooooops! More like #trainwreckmas!), but it was so special to be welcomed so warmly into Zan's family for this one. 

And then the Redskins won the NFC East title and are going to the playoffs.

And Zander and I saw the second movie in a theater of our entire relationship, and Skyfall was the best Bond movie. Ever. (Resolution: sit on our rumps in dark places and sip on $5 colas more in 2013!)

And Theo behaved himself, all of the time. It was so weird. I wanted to freeze frame all the sitting and lying down and listening he did. He listened! 

And then New Year's. Oh New Year's. I love you so! I think NYE is a magical night, that tells the tales of your year past and the one you're entering. All really drunkenly. What's more awesome than that? Only one thing. CARDS AGAINST HUMANITY. Zander let me talk him into hosting dinner at his condo (it's itty bitty, but it was perfect!). I cooked up a storm, and the guest list was short and sweet. Zan's sister-in-law and I wore the same shirt, so there was double the sparkle, double the fun, and somehow, someway, I don't have a picture of it (gasp!). Six of us ate just about every last bite, drank red and white and sparkling wines and played CAH, the game for horrible people, and we were horrible, and we rang in 2013 at one of our favorite wine bars, cheersing and kissing cheeks and lips and being so merry my cheeks are still rosy.

Here are some of the (not so great) photographic highlights of this joyfully long winter break. Tomorrow? Resolutions. I got 'em a plenty! 2013 is going to be big. 

I'm on bloglovin'! Related, I'll be back blogging regularly soon, so you'll have updates to read. Now get on over to bloglovin' and follow me!

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sweet somethings

This month my office has been a never-ending parade of baked goods and chocolates. I scope out the kitchen every morning, wondering what goodies await. The other day, after stuffing myself on at least three of these dark chocolate babies, I went home thinking I couldn’t possibly feel more decadent and indulgent. Zander walked in right about then and placed a dozen roses in my arms. So I was wrong. I buried my nose in them, my whole nose – half my head, really, to take in their sweet smell. This is my color palette this season – chocolates and roses – reds and whites and browns of all shades. I’m loved and cocooned in the warmth of the season. Or maybe that’s the sugar high talking.

in the stacks | billy lynn's long halftime walk

A couple of years ago, I got pretty close to a group of Marines stationed in Iwakuni, Japan. My girlfriend was talking to one of them, you know, romantically, and he asked her to the annual Marine Corps Ball. She accepted, and he set me up on a blind date to the same ball with his best friend. The ball turned into an after party, and the after party turned into all night dancing in Hiroshima, and all night dancing turned into a 7am train ride back home. In this one night, Callie and I spent 12 hours with these guys. I learned more about the men behind the uniforms than I ever expected.

In between celebratory drinks and boys cutting in for another dance, these guys opened up to me about their fears, mindsets on America's wars, duty to their country, and what I mean to them as an American citizen. Every one of these guys, alone, away from their friends, told me in their own words that their life is less than mine, that they exist so I can teach safely in Japan, so I can go home to America and feel safe in my house and neighborhood. They had their own opinions on the Marine Corps - it's harsh, brutal, but a brotherhood stronger than blood. The ferocity in their eyes when they told me, over and over, they'd die for each other and would never leave a brother's side, no matter what they faced - well, it scared me a little, but it also humbled me. These men and women, our troops, are soldiers. And that means something to them.

I was reminded of this experience while reading Ben Fountain's bestselling novel, Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk, a novel about the heroic Bravo Squad, back in the US from Iraq for a short media-intensive tour after a video of them in a ferocious firefight goes viral. The entire novel takes place in the Dallas Cowboys stadium, where the Bravos are invited to attend a game. Billy Lynn is 19-years-old, and has a massive hangover from partying the night before. As the novel opens, all he wants is some Advil that everyone is too busy to get for him.

As his headache wears on, exacerbated by the lights and sounds in the stadium, we're taken back in short snippets to the firefight that brought him here. We experience Billy's PTSD terror alongside him - the lights are being ambushed in Iraq, the sound of the players warming up kicking are shots that he can't stop, the frenzy of the pre-game activity is him on a battlefield, moving through the chaos without thought, relying on his training.

In the time span of one Dallas Cowboys game, Billy hobnobs with the team's wealthy owner and his colleagues, a Hollywood producer that's determined to make the Bravos's story into a mega-hit at the box office, and in the midst of it all, falls hopelessly in love.

Like the Marine friends I made, Billy's thoughts are complicated and nuanced and intense. He questions the Army, America's role in Iraq, his life and existence, what he could be when, or if, he returns. He's thoughtful and bright. Above all else, he always comes back to what it means to be a soldier. To be a soldier, a brother, a member of the Bravo Squad means something to Billy. Being a soldier is an intrinsic part of his identity, and his search to understand what that means is why the novel and the Marines left such an impact on me.

here's why | blyde river canyon, south africa

There are places I've traveled that I wish I could do over. Have a do-over. Can't we all be granted a few of those? Mostly, that's everywhere and everything I've seen, with few exceptions - like the time everything I had was stolen in Ko Phi Phi or when I threw up for two straight hours on a small fishing boat headed to snorkel with whale sharks in Mozambique (both are wildly embarrassing. Moving on...). But there are some places that with age, developed interests and whatnot, I desperately wish I could transport myself back in an instant and experience it through my eyes now, as the person I am now.



(What am I blathering about? Does anyone ever know?)

Anyway. Today, at least, the blabbering is about the Blyde River Canyon in South Africa. It's one of those places that I'd use one of my three genie in a bottle wishes to get a do-over. It's pretty special.



Blyde River is one of the largest canyons in the world. As I remember my history lesson when I visited back in the ancient year of 2008, it's smaller only than the Grand Canyon here in the US of A and the Fish River Canyon in Namibia. It's vibrant - green with lush growth and made of red sandstone. The river runs through the cracks and crevices, spiraling around towering boulders, and the cliff edges jut out precariously - natural benches on which to take it all in. I mean, no amount of photoshopping could enhance this place or beautify it. It's naturally awe-inspiring, breathtaking and spectacular.





Blyde sits along the so-named Panorama Route, a stretch of land in the southeastern part of the country - near to the city of  Durban and Kruger National Park, dotted with natural landmarks. I made my way to Blyde on an overlanding trip the semester I studied abroad in South Africa. We hit the road running in Cape Town and criss-crossed the country - through Swaziland, down along the coast of KwaZulu-Natal, up through Kruger National Park and back through the Panorama Route. While we pitched tents every night in the abundant campgrounds that dot the countryside, there are hostels, inns and hotels in all of the towns and major cities. To access the destinations along the Route, you need to rent a car or join an organized overlanding tour.



The Canyon and other destinations along the Panorama Route are certainly set up for tourists. They're well-maintained and marked. So few people go, though. You have to want to go there, plan that to be a destination. It has to be purposeful, and not many people make Blyde a purposeful visit. In my humble, modest opinion, that's a HUGE mistake. But, I mean, less crowds and more beauty for us, right?



In the past few years, I've settled into myself, into my hobbies and passions and found this endless, abounding love and deep appreciation for being in and exploring nature. If I could go back to Blyde, I'd spend the most time there I possibly could. Maybe I'd never come back! I'd hike, camp and devour it whole.

This final picture is courtesy of GraniteNet. The other images are my own.

Here's why you should visit Blyde River Canyon:

1. Natural playground (hiker's daydream)


2. On of the three largest canyons in the world


3. Proximity to Kruger National Park, Durban and the rest of the Panorama Route


4. Off the beaten path


5. Spectacular views (photographer's daydream)

If a genie granted you three travel wishes, what would they be?