I can’t blame it on the gray skies, because we had a string of beautifully clear (but very cold) days last week. And I can’t blame it on work, which has been full of wonderful new challenges and opportunities of late. (No, I can’t blog about that. At least not yet. But soon, I hope.) I’m not sure what to blame it on, really, but I’ve been in an awfully crabby mood for the past few days.
Actually, I probably do know what to blame it on—I’ve just been loathe to admit it. Last week, right after I posted about “staying the course,” I veered off the track. I think all those carbs in my Valentine’s night meal set off a series of cravings, and the really cold weather caused me to avoid our garage-based weight bench for a couple of mornings in a row. So I ended up with three days of no exercise and an unbalanced diet. That, combined with normal hormonal swings, was a very bad thing.
Like Weez, I took a 4-weeks-later photo this week. Unlike her, I didn’t see a significant difference in the images. But, to quote one of my favorite movies from childhood, it’s often the case that “you see what you want to see.” And given where my head was at the time, it’s not surprising that I didn’t see positive change. Today I weighed myself at the gym, and discovered that I’ve lost 8 pounds since she left town in January. That’s just over a pound a week, which is pretty respectable. And I know I’m stronger, as well.
So yes, it appears undeniably true that not only is this approach to eating and activity having an effect on my physical appearance, it’s having an equally significant effect on my state of mind. That’s a good thing to remember when the ice cream looks tempting—is it really worth feeling this out of sorts for several days for that fleeting sensory treat?
So I’m climbing back out of the (carb-induced?) funk, and back into a positive mindset. I have so much to be happy about, and I’m working hard at shifting my focus back to that.
My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision of the everchanging view
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold.
—Carole King
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays—I associate it with family and warmth and food and laughter. Amazingly, I’ve never had to make my own Thanksgiving dinner. Most years I’ve eaten at my mother’s house (where I wish I could be this year, as well), and there have been a few wonderful and memorable Thanskgivings with Gerald’s family in Alabama. (The contrast between the two is fodder for another post at some point…)
This year we’re far away from both of those gatherings, but we’ll still be celebrating with family. We had planned to go up to Marysville to spend the day with my uncle and aunt in their house on the sound. Plans changed, however, when my 93-year-old grandmother took a bad fall in Rochester and had to be hospitalized for fractures of her pelvis. My uncle headed to Rochester, and my aunt changed her plans to have dinner with her stepsister in Olympia—so we’re tagging along for that dinner.
I toyed with just staying here and cooking our own Thanksgiving dinner for the first time, but events conspired against me. On Monday morning we woke up to find that the compressor had gone out on our refrigerator (well, our landlords’ fridge), and Sears won’t be able to get a repair person out until next week. No fridge makes any kind of serious cooking a whole lot harder, since you can’t do any prep in advance.
So no maple pecan pumpkin pie this year. No sweet potato and turnip gratin (the yummiest dish I’ve ever made for a Thanksgiving dinner). No sweet potato casserole. We’ll be toting a couple of store-bought pies instead…
We’ll have to make up for this over the winter holidays—we’ll have a big latke dinner, of course. But maybe we’ll also have a Thanksgiving-style dinner that we make ourselves, complete with all of those favorite recipes, and some friends over to share in the bounty.
In the meantime, we’re off to Olympia for the day. May your day be a rich tapestry full of warmth and love and gratitude.
I’ve had a few requests for that latke recipe (we pronounce it as “laht-kuh,” Jack, but I’ve definitely heard “lot-key” used as well). This recipe comes from my father’s side of the family—his mother made them for him when he was a child in Germany, and he in turn made them for me and my sister every winter when we were growing up. When I left home, he gave me the recipe, and I’m now the official latke-cooker in my house.
Here’s it is, as I learned it. This is not a Joy of Cooking recipe with exact proportions…you’ll have to use the rule of thumb guidelines provided.
Ingredients
Instructions
Peel and grate the potatoes (to a “mush” consistency, using the fine tooth side of the grater; not the side that makes shreds). Grate the onions the same way, and mix into the potato mixture. Use a ladle or large spoon to remove excess moisture…we put a heavy metal ladle onto the mixture, and the liquid drains into the ladle over the edges. Keep this up for as long as you have the patience for it; removing the water helps the pancakes stay together better when cooking.
After removing the water, add in the eggs and salt.
Heat ~1” of oil (preferably peanut oil, but vegetable or canola oil will work) in a large skillet (preferably cast iron) until water “pops” when dropped into oil. Pour some of the mixture in with a ladle. If it falls apart, it means that either the oil is too hot, or the mixture is too watery and needs more egg. Experiment with temperature first, because it’s easier to undo than adding eggs.
Latkes should float above the bottom of the pan, not stick to the bottom. Use a spatula (metal, not plastic!) to dislodge them if they stick. When edges start to brown, flip.
When latkes are crispy around edges and brown on both sides, place on paper towels. We rip up a full roll of paper towels, and just layer the latkes and paper towels; 2 paper towels, 3-4 latkes, then 2 more paper towels over that, more latkes, etc. Keep the plate with latkes and paper towels in a slightly warm oven while you’re making more, so that you can bring out a lot at a time, reducing family warfare over who gets them. :-)
I’m writing to express to you our disappointment with the dinner we had at Alex Patout’s Louisiana Restaurant in the French Quarter on June 3rd. We chose your restaurant to celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary because we had fond memories of the excellent food and service we’d enjoyed there a decade ago—it appears, however, that over time both have suffered declines in quality.
The service was friendly and fast—but a bit too fast. We felt quite rushed, and had no sense of a leisurely, well-paced meal. Although we ordered both appetizers and dessert, the time from our seating to our departure was slightly under one hour; this is good for turnover and revenue enhancement, I’m sure, but it’s less than ideal for diners wishing to relax and enjoy their meal. We don’t often spend $100 on a meal, and when we do, we generally look forward to the entire dining experience, not just a quick succession of plates.
Our food was good, but not spectacular, and most certainly not of a quality commensurate with the cost. The crab and corn bisque was bland, and my lump crabmeat dish had an alarming number of shell fragments. We had substantially better (though comparably priced) meals at other restaurants in town during our stay—particularly Emeril’s and Dante’s Kitchen—which made the shortcomings of our meal at your restaurant all the more apparent.
I hope that we simply caught your staff and your kitchen on a bad night, and that our experience wasn’t indicative of the current overall quality of your restaurant. I suspect, however, that on future visits to New Orleans we will find other places to celebrate special occasions.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Lawley—
When we booked our reservation online, we received a confirmation email from “Alex Patout <info@patout.com>”—which may or may not have actually come from the chef himself. That’s the address to which I sent the above message. If I receive a reply, I’ll post an update.
—
Update, 6/17
Since I had not received a response, I followed up with another email yesterday. In it, I pointed out that I’d posted the letter on my site and that it was now showing up in the top ten results for “Alex Patout.” I received this response today:
Dear Ms. Lawley,
I apologize that we did not write to you at your email address. We, instead, wrote a letter to your New York address. We hope that you have it by tomorrow. I will check back with you then. We have had so many problems with our server that we don’t leave anything to chance anymore.
Thanks for your patience.
Marcia Patout
Alex Patout’s Louisiana Restaurant
I’ll update again when I get their answer.
I had a lovely dinner last night with Allan Karl, at an excellent restaurant here in San Diego called Rainwater’s on Kettner. No laptops or electronic devices of any kind were involved, which was a huge relief.
One of the things I’ve found most disconcerting about this conference has been the unwillingness of so many of the participants to shift their mode from the keyboard and screen to the real world of face-to-face communication. There’s great value to the backchannel, especially in conference presentations where you can’t speak out loud with your neighbors to discuss what’s being said. But in the hotel lobby? In the restaurants? In the participant breakout sections? I remember when Steven Johnson posted about Clay Shirky’s social software gathering last year—he noted that the backchannel seemed to suck the humor out of the room and into the chat. But at this conference, the backchannel seems to be sucking everything out of the room and into the chat, which I find depressing.
So, anyway, dinner. It was a great reminder of the real-world rewards of this new electronic community I’ve become a part of. Allan and I had a great time talking, laughing, eating, and sharing a bottle of wine. That kind of experience cements a friendship in a way that instant messenger just can’t do. I don’t use technology for the sake of using technology—at least, I try not to. I use it to enhance the things that I care about in my life—friends, family, my research. Yesterday afternoon I spoke to my kids over iChat audio. I arranged to meet Allan using email and IM. And I participated in great discussions about my areas of research interest during presentations. But all of those spill over into the real world, and I use them to enhance the real world, not replace it.
Here’s what I wish I’d brought to dinner, George. I’ve made it the past two Thanksgivings, and just didn’t have time to shop and prep this year. But it’s truly awesome, and as far from heart-healthy as anything I’ve ever made. :)
Sweet Potato and Turnip Gratin
(From Nathalie Dupree’s Comfortable Entertaining)
This gratin is particularly welcomed on the holiday table by those who love sweet potatoes and hate marshmallows. The cream and butter make this so delicious your guests will lie in bed and remember it happily all year long. You only serve this kind of dish once in a very long while, so the caloric intake is moderated. If your meal has too many sweet potatoes, see the variation for turnip gratin.
2 to 3 pounds white turnips, peeled and sliced 1/4 inch thick
2 to 3 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/4 pound (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 to 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh tarragon leaves
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup grated imported Parmesan cheese
1 cup bread crumbs
2 cups heavy cream
Preheat the oven to 350∞F. Butter a 3-quart casserole.
To blanch the turnips, bring a large pot of water to the boil. Add the sliced turnips and cook 5 minutes. Remove them and drain thoroughly in a strainer.
Gently combine the turnips and sweet potatoes. Place a layer of the vegetables in the casserole and dot with half the butter. Sprinkle generously with tarragon, salt, and pepper, and cover with half of the Parmesan. Make another layer. Top with the bread crumbs and pour the cream around the sides. Dot with the remaining butter and Parmesan. Bake until the vegetables are soft but not mushy, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
The gratin can be made ahead several days, or frozen for up to 3 months. Let defrost in the refrigerator and reheat for 30 to 45 minutes in the oven, or reheat in the microwave.
Variation
Omit the sweet potatoes and double the amount of turnips.
Makes 10 to 12 servings.
A little after the fact, here’s what I actually brought to Thanksgiving dinner. (Inspired by George’s “Carrots and Turnips” post…)
Aunt Deb’s Infamous Sweet Potato Casserole
3 c cooked, mashed sweet potato
1 tsp cinnamon
1 stick butter (or margarine)
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
Combine above ingredients and put in well greased casserole dish
Topping:
1 c brown sugar
1/3 c butter (or margarine)
1/3 c flour
1 c chopped pecans
Sprinkle topping over casserole. Bake 350 for about 30 min. (Can bake ahead
and reheat, but it doesn’t really save any time …)
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