Category Archives: Events

Riches & Wonders

Happy Thanksgiving Eve, y’all! That is my smiling, tired face — smiling because I’m stoked for all the cooking I’ll be doing, and tired because I was too excited to sleep last night (that, and I was way too warm — damn you, fleece lounge pants).

Alex and I have a pretty badass menu planned. Yes, I am tooting my own horn. I’ll be making the following dishes:

  • Cranberry-orange relish
  • Pumpkin pie (mom’s recipe — Alex is making the pie dough because he is a sweetheart and because I have a fear of making pie dough)
  • Traditional stuffing (mom’s recipe)
  • Corn bake (General Midwestern recipe)
  • Gingerbread cake (from this month’s Bon Appetit)

[Photo source: Bon Appetit website]

The Gingerbread Cake was a last-minute menu addition. Sunday, as I was waiting to give my tour, I flipped through the December issue of BA and I was bowled over by the above picture — that frosting looks killer. True, I have a lot on my plate (hardy har har), but I’ll also have the kitchen to myself tomorrow and I’m on-track with my food prep plan. Beer me luck.

Alex has perhaps a more ambitious menu than I do. He started brining the turkey last night using his own brine recipe and a spice blend from Drewes. In addition to roasting the bird, Alex will be making:

  • Stuffing
  • Brussels sprouts
  • Gravy
  • Mashed potatoes
  • Vegetable terrine
  • Cocktail weenies

And, of course, our pals will bring their own specialties; projected contributions include green beans, dinner rolls, a charcuterie plate, vegetable bisque, walnut bread, kale, guacamole, pecan pie, and martinis. It’s gonna be sick. Have an enjoyable Pre-T, all! I’m at the office, but I’m hoping that we’re allowed to leave early — have to let those bread cubes breathe.

Scenes from a Weekend

Lots of  food-y (and foodless) goings on this weekend. Sadly, I didn’t have my camera for many of them. The biggest event of the weekend, Pre-T Dinner, was held outside, in the late evening, on a not-so-well lit patio. Noting the absence of external lights, I didn’t even fiddle with my iPhone.

Pre-T stands for Pre-Thanksgiving, and may I just say, Wow, what a spread. Omid deep fried the turkeys, and though I wasn’t able to snag any meat, I did try a bit of the skin. Full disclosure: Alex cajoled me to try the skin, and I am very glad I did. It had a texture similar to jerky (not-quite-jerkified jerky) and a taste like buttery heaven.

A. & I brought two dishes to Pre-T — well, three. We made two Tortillas, which turned out beautifully: potatoey, symmetric, and just golden brown. In the buffet line, I heard murmurs of “Is that Tortilla? Who made Tortilla?” And I experienced swells of pride, even though I had nothing to do with the slicing of vegetables.

Joey and Pat’s Italian Bakery & Cafe, a quick two blocks from my house, opened last week. The few times I’ve walked past, I’ve given a curious eye to the pastry trays: croissants sprinkled with delicate almonds, crumb cakes, danishes. On a whim, I picked up a pound of assorted cookies to bring to Pre-T. The woman who took my order (Pat, is that you?) was supremely friendly; we talked bus routes and intersections. The cookies were dynamite; I say this because I ate six or seven yesterday, the turkey having been devoured before I could get to it. The Mexican wedding cookies had a beautiful crumb, teetering between crumbly and sticky. Soft & almondy biscotti, sugar-encrusted rugelach, sugar cookies dashed with candy-colored sprinkles. Oh, yes: I’ll be back. Saturday afternoon, pre-Pre-T, Alex and I strolled through the Ferry Building Farmers Market. I could not resist the grapes, purple-black and dusted with yeast, or the dinosaur kale. A. & I each got a bunch of organic carrots, knobbier than their city cousins, and shorter. They’re built like peasants. I can’t wait to try them in tomorrow’s dinner.

We stopped by Prather Ranch, where Stu was working. Bought some bacon from Stu (because Prather Ranch’s bacon is BEYOND ALL OTHER BACONS) and learned about the shop’s heritage turkeys, raised by one Frank Reese. “Frank saved heritage turkeys from extinction,” Stu told us, leaning against the bacon cooler. “It’s a great story — too long for Saturday afternoon at the Ferry Building, but there was a great piece on NPR about it.”

And so there was: the story is here, if you care to listen to it.Though muesli has reigned supreme for months as my top breakfast choice, peanut butter toast is gaining favor. Saturday morning, when I woke up after the deepest, most prehistoric sleep, I made two slices, to which I added cinnamon. Cinnamon sugar would have been better, but cinnamon was good. I find myself lately making my coffee a little too strong — on purpose, though. I’ve gotten my milk-to-coffee ratio down pat. Strong coffee with more milk tastes better than moderate coffee with moderate milk. Extremes in all circumstances, as they say.

Treasure Island and Party at the Poop Dock

Ahoy! I’m back after a weekend of music, mischief, and bottomless garlic fries. Alex, Sarah, Brent, and I joined our pals for the Treasure Island Music Festival this weekend. Saturday morning, we set sail from Pier 39, black licorice and rhythm instruments in tow; after a placid trip, the Owl’s motor died. We drifted in to the Treasure Island Marina, only to be sent to the pump-out dock. That’s right: we spent the weekend next to the poop vacuum. That tiny snafu aside, we enjoyed the bands (Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks! Battles!) and the profusion of fair food.

My favorite festival food was Saturday night’s gyro, which, after a day of light meals and heavy dancing, seemed like a gift from the heavens. Creamy tzatziki, pillowy pita, and wax-paper thin cucumbers: oh, yes! Gyros are a sandwich I enjoy in moderation — I haven’t found a stellar neighborhood gyro joint — but when I get a good one, the memory of it stays with me for days. Nevermind that this one featured beef instead of lamb; if I’m feeling ambitious, I may mix a batch of tzatziki to ensure the continued good [meal]times. Our best meal was Sunday morning’s brunch on the boat. We woke late to a foggy sky, all of us craving carbs and fresh water. While Alex and Brent tinkered with the motor, Sarah and I put together a meal fit for a band of sleepy festivalgoers: strawberries, sweet and cold from their ice nest; peasant bread in thick slices; manchego, brie, and apricot Stilton; and the crumbs of the cinnamon-sugar pita chips we’d so voraciously consumed the previous evening. I made eggs on the camp stove, balancing the skillet on the narrow burner, leaving the yolks runny to allow for maximum dipping. My lack of a spatula didn’t derail my camp-kitchen efforts. Cooking on the Owl made me miss outdoor cooking and its attendant joys: using a stick to knock foil packets from the embers, the scorched scent of flaming marshmallows, getting dirt on every available utensil. If any of you all want to take a camping trip, let me know: we’ll have s’mores and omelets for days.

I’M BA-ACK!

Back and better than ever, now that I’m not living in a fever haze! The past two weeks were not great, healthwise. I had a 101.8-degree fever as I boarded the plane for Mexico, and thank god Alex shepherded me through the airport because I was heavily sedated (#trauma). I have a foggy memory of eating a Dunkin’ Donuts doughnut (chocolate) as I sat in the Ft. Lauderdale airport; after that, my mind is a blank. A week in the sun set me right, though, and before long I regained the appetite that had vanished a week prior.

Alex and I spent the bulk of our trip at Cabanas Tulum in a cabana just feet from the beach. Freaking bliss! When I was younger — sixteen, say — I eschewed sunny vaca locales, thinking them “too pedestrian” or something. I can safely say that, as a 16-year-old, I didn’t know my ass from my elbow. Tropical vacations rule. (I suppose the pressures of Adult Lyfe inure one to holidays whose main selling points are lack of internet connectivity, good weather, and free-flowing rum.)My favorite meal of the trip was also the simplest, w/r/t preparation and setting. We’d spent the morning exploring (by car) the area just beyond Tulum; with the AC cranked up, we rattled past bus shelters constructed of corrugated tin, primary-hued shacks, and “Highway Maize” — my ueberscientific classification of the cornlike plant growing along the road. Was it maize? I had no way of knowing, my iPhone being locked in Airplane Mode. Back in Tulum, we stopped at Carnitas Merchant for a quick, late lunch.Our tacos were strikingly simple, nothing more than carnitas on pillow-soft corn tortillas. The proprietor brought us a tray of salsa verde (fairly hot), limes, and chopped white onions with cilantro. I relished squeezing the last bit of juice from the limes, letting the fruit’s pulp dot the meat. A. and I sat at a dusty plastic table — the sort you might find poolside at a run-down Days Inn — and drank sun-heated bottled water. Not the most glamorous environment, certainly, but the tortillas were so fresh and the pork so juicy (without being overtly fatty) that I wouldn’t have minded sitting on the curb. Pork, lime juice, and snappy white onions: it was a beautiful meal.In that heat, my hair was a damp pelt. Sweat sheened the bridge of my nose. I polished off the rest of my water and hit the gelateria — I’d make several return trips — where I got a coneful of cookies & cream: lush and drippy and full of intact, softened cookies. The entire lunch cost about $5 USD.

***

El Tabano! occupies a different spot on the formality spectrum. Set back from the road, the restaurant boasts scattered votives, mismatched chairs (vintage, all), and tables crafted from repurposed signs. Featuring Caribbean-influenced Mexican cuisine, the menu has offerings for vegetarians and carnivores alike, as well as a full bar.

On a previous trip to Tulum, Alex ate at El Tabano! several times, primarily for the stuffed jalapeno. The pepper, cleaned of seeds and veins, is filled with a spicy beef mixture, then breaded and deep-fried, then gently drizzled with sour cream and flecked with black sesame seeds. Unlike fried jalapenos here, this pepper was soft — mushy, even. Mushy in the best possible way.

I was a fan of the stuffed pepper, but I enjoyed the stuffed, fried plantains even more. Plantains are a rarity in my diet, despite their prevalence here (and in most places with decent supermarkets). Why the scarcity? Most likely because I didn’t grow up with plantains — didn’t try them until college, perhaps? — and because I’d never had them in their stuffed form.

What were they stuffed with, you ask? CHEESE. That’s right: the plantains were slit, filled, and deep fried, their exteriors a coffee brown, their texture puddinglike. They were served alongside rice and rich black beans. I enjoyed them, sliced into uniform rounds, with a glass of white wine.

Honesty strikes: not all dishes at El Tabano! were so delectable. The gazpacho, though a vibrant rusty color, was saddeningly bland. The “veggie lasagna” — sautéed veggies + cheese sandwiched between layers of tortilla, the whole mess of which was baked — was likewise bland. Why did I order that damnable lasagna? I didn’t feel like fish, I think. Despite these misfires, El Tabano! has my vote for best non-taqueria restaurant of the trip. (Note: I didn’t take any photos at either of our El Tabano! dinners — it was dark out, and had I used flash, every photo would have been all shitty and overexposed.)Next up: my review of the puketastic food at our all-inclusive resort.

Christopher Elbow: Fall Flavors

Christopher Elbow’s San Francisco shop — his only brick & mortar store outside Kansas City — is easy to breeze by if you’re in a hurry. At the corner of Hayes and Gough, situated kitty-corner from Absinthe, the store is far sparer than its neighbors. From the outside, it looks like a gallery: the sales counter is absent unnecessary decor, and the seating area — with its leather couchbenches and cubic lamp-tables — doesn’t invite one to sit and linger.

If you equate visual minimalism with a seriousness about one’s craft, then you’d agree that the shop’s look-and-feel accurately represents Elbow’s approach to chocolate making.

Elbow himself is much warmer than the shop’s appearance might have you believe, however. Last night, my fellow Gourmet Walks guides and I joined a small group of chocolate enthusiasts to sample Christopher Elbow’s fall offerings. Much like a clothing designer, Elbow changes his stock several times yearly, producing confections in tune with what’s in season. He also uses ingredients attitudinally representative of the season. “I don’t know if you know, but Kansas City has some cold winters,” Elbow said last night. “It’s the perfect time for whiskeys, nuts, that sort of thing.”

Having flown in from Kansas City especially for this event, Elbow spent yesterday evening introducing new truffles, ice creams, and beer to a small group (myself and my Gourmet Walks compatriots included). The chocolatier spent just over an hour introducing his creations, fielding questions, and discussing the finer points of his craft. The tasting was completed in three phases. Phase one featured three truffles (pumpkin, brown butter molasses, and bananas curry). Phase two featured four ice creams and a sorbet. Phase three focused on — you guessed it — Elbow’s chocolate ale.

I’ve had several occasions to try Elbow’s chocolates, and I’ve always been pleased with the delicately crafted truffles. Their crisp exteriors easily give way to expertly blended fillings: caramel spiked with rosemary essence, lemon cream, champagne so crisp you swear it has bubbles. Before opening his own shop, Elbow worked as Emeril’s executive pastry chef; the chef’s meticulousness is evident in each handmade piece.

My favorite of the three we sampled was, perhaps coincidentally, Elbow’s personal favorite: bananas curry (pictured above). Elbow had long wanted to incorporate curry into his confections, but he had difficulty finding the right filling with which to infuse the spice. His eureka moment came as he prepared a batch of the bananas foster truffles — he knew the sweet, round banana flavor would stand up to the curry’s strong flavor. “It’s not our bestselling piece,” Elbow admitted, “but it’s my favorite.” It’s easy to understand why: the banana filling, so creamy and true you’d swear the fruit had just been mashed, overlays a judiciously blended dash of curry — a delayed undercurrent of spice.

In recent months, Elbow has developed a line of ice creams sold at two Kansas City locations. Every day, 24 flavors are offered; Elbow plans to introduce ice cream at his Hayes Valley shop within the next month or so. We previewed four flavors of ice cream (mint chocolate chip, goat cheese and honey, rosemary caramel, and Venezuelan spice), as well as a pineapple-cilantro sorbet.

San Franciscans are notoriously hard to please, particularly when it comes to ice cream. Despite its moderate climate, the city is host to a number of cultworthy ice cream shops; Bi-Rite Creamery, Three Twins, Smitten, Humphry Slocombe, and Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous are the best known. Flavorwise, Elbow’s ice creams are killer, but texturally, they leave something to be desired. One of my fellow guides described the ice creams as “grainy.” I’m not sure I’d go that far, but when I’m eating something that’s 16% butterfat, I expect more smoothness: max smoothness. The Venezuelan spice, in particular, was so dense that it was tough to spoon into — a preventative measure against overindulgence, perhaps?

This isn’t to say I disliked the ice creams. The goat cheese and honey was positively dreamy; had I not had to save room for the following samples, I’d have eaten my entire dish. What hits you first is the texture, the lushness of the ice cream on your tongue, followed by the pungent flavor of goat cheese. Each bite finishes with a dainty note of honey, so faint that it’s nearly imperceptible.

The pineapple-cilantro sorbet was also spot-on. Not too sweet, as so many pineapple-flavored confections are, the flavor gains credibility from the touch of cilantro that forms the tail. One of our group joked that the sorbet would make a great cocktail, and Elbow suggested putting “a scoop or two” in a pour of tequila. I’ll keep that in mind for our coming summer months. What would a party be without beer? Not much of a party, some might say, and Elbow is clearly of this mindset; he finished the tasting with small pours of his Chocolate Ale (9.1% ABV). With a base blend of a Scottish-style ale. the brew carries the flavor of the nibs with which it was infused during brewing — a flavor that intensifies as the beverage warms. Infusing the beer was quite a difficult process; the nibs must be heated before they’ll release their flavor, but heating also releases the nibs’ fat, which compromises the final product. Elbow’s solution was to limit the heating time to five minutes, and to add unheated nibs later in the production process.

At present, Elbow doesn’t have plans to develop another beer — he’s dividing nearly all of his time between his KC chocolate and ice-cream shops — but the reputed popularity of this brew is enough to garner Elbow clout in the spirits world. I’m not well-versed enough to speak about the beer with authority, though I’ll note that the cocoa infusion became noticeably more pronounced as time progressed; what began as a hint blossomed into a full flavor. Curious about what to pair with such a beer? Elbow recommends sipping it alone, in place of a dessert wine. Of course, if the beer doesn’t sate your sweet tooth, there’s always chocolate (and ice cream).

First Meals + International Bacon Day at OtG

It’s amazing what 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep will do for you: I feel ALIVE!

Yesterday, I shared with y’all my last meal in the Sunset; now, you’ll have the pleasure of reading about my first meal in the Mission.* Hint: it involves bacon.

After spending hours unpacking, then wandering to the grocery store, then taking a lovely, furtive nap, I biked with Alex to Off the Grid (McCoppin) to get breakfast for dinner. BfD is a recurring theme in my kitchen; omelets, with their heft and savory ingredients, are equally well suited to morning and evening meals, and toast is perfect at any old time of day.You know me: I totally researched menu options ahead of time so I wouldn’t make an ill-informed BACON decision. Bacon Bacon’s Bacon Bouquet — in effect, a fistful of bacon tied up like its floral namesake — was cute, but I didn’t want cute for dinner. ArKi’s fried chicken looked/smelled/tasted delicious, but I wasn’t in a fried chicken mood. (Note: I did try a patch of batter from Alex’s chicken: total deep-fried goodness. Couldn’t have handled more than a bite.)

True to form, I chose the Brunch Box’s B.E.A.T: a fried egg with heirloom tomato rounds, bacon, macerated shallots, garlic aioli, and avocado. The bacon/fried egg sandwich wins any mealtime showdown; bonus points are awarded for creative add-ons (in this case, the shallots, which added a necessary sharpness of flavor). The B.E.A.T was pretty damn tasty, though I’d have subbed the arugula for the avocado. Nevermind that avocado isn’t my fave veggie — arugula would have added beneficial pepperiness. But that’s just my preference. Cholula was available and I declined to use it, so I can’t kvetch about a lack of sandwich spice.

Related: the Brunch Box ladies know how to perfectly fry an egg. Solid whites, just-barely-runny yolk, no brown spots. You done good, BBs.

Unrelated: Biking. I’m so stoked to bike everywhere: you have no idea.

***

*No, that ginormo cinnamon roll I had for “lunch” doesn’t count as a meal.

Glad Tidings!

I have never been so glad for a Friday (#forreal). When I got home today, after the longest K ride/walk of ma damn life, I though I was going to collapse; for a minute there, it felt like a real possibility. Fortunately, I didn’t pass out. I mean, I wouldn’t be writing this if I’d collapsed. Logic, y’all.

Life is crazy these days, and it just got crazier: last week, I accepted an internship with Eater SF, and this week, I began my duties(!!!) What do my duties entail, you ask? Oh, a little of this and a little of that — research, mostly, and monitoring Twitter (which, as we all know, is one of my top skills, right up there with rationalizing late-nite J.Crew.com purchases and slashing errant adverbs with my trusty red pen). Anyway, if you read Eater and see posts by Eater Intern, c’est moi! Maybe someday, you’ll see posts with my real name.

That’s the good word — that, and I’m finally starting to like Campari. Ah, Campari, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

There’s more news, of course, but my eyes are weary and my possessions aren’t packing themselves. Happy weekend, Garkyfriends!

This is what I look like when I drink Campari.

SF Street Food Festival Recapped!

Ahoyyyyyy, mateys, and happy Tuesday! My weekend was swell, filled as it was with good company, restorative sleep, and street food. That’s right: I spent most of my Saturday wandering Folsom, eking through masses of people, and waiting in line to try some of the city’s tastiest morsels.

Confession: I miss the Minnesota State Fair. I don’t miss too much about living in Minnesota — my family, thunderstorms, and the megamall are notable exceptions — but I do miss our annual trek to the fair. Weeks before our trip, I’d consider the foods I had to try: Ben & Jerry’s ice cream was always on the list*, as were the cream cheese wontons served at the International Bazaar. Sometimes I’d get a Pronto Pup; sometimes I wouldn’t. Ali would inevitably wander to Sweet Martha’s, where she’d purchase a plastic pail of baked-on-the-premises chocolate chip cookies. As we wound our way through the barns (which were sharp with the odors of livestock), we’d swing the cookie pail, nimbly sidestepping cow pies.

Cow pies! Good times.

Now, instead of looking forward to the State Fair, I look forward to the San Francisco Street Food Festival. It’s like the MN State Fair, minus the livestock, John Deere equipment, Midway, grade-C early-2000s pop stars, and flocks of grandmas wearing khaki shorts/white New Balances.

A trip to the SFSFF requires some prep: you’ve got to review the list of vendors, determine which foods you’d most like to try (because you can’t try ‘em all), and arrive early. EARLY. Like, right at 11:00. Alex and I got there at 11:05, and already the booths were crowded. San Franciscans are serious about their food.

I won’t recount every item I tried, because 1) the rest of this entry would just be a list, and sometimes lists are boring**; and 2) you’d consider me a glutton if you got the full recounting of everything I ate. (Seriously: I had to take a nap before making a second trip to Folsom.) Highlights it is!

First, NO, I did not try the wax-moth-larvae tacos (or the mealworm ice cream). Jasper tried the former, closing his eyes for the first bite or two, then realizing that moth larvae don’t taste like much. This absence of strong flavor isn’t enough to get me excited about eating insects, though. Cultural bias? Sure. I also dislike bugs in a way that I don’t dislike cows, pigs, chickens, or tofu blocks.

Prior to the fest, I decided that I’d only try foods that I couldn’t get anywhere else (or that would be difficult to get). That stipulation ended quickly. The first bite Alex & I tried was A16′s Duroc pork meatball, pictured above. A bit larger than a plum and smothered in sauce, the ‘ball was tasty — but not tasty enough that I can recall specifics three days later. (Sorry, A16!)

In direct rebuttal of my “no everyday foods” rule, I had a cup of Three Twins’ lemon cookie ice cream, which was divine. With Smitten now on the scene, I’ve gotten spoiled; rarely am I awed by plain-old, non-liquid-nitrogen-produced ice cream, but this scoop was different. After so many heavy foods, the delicate lemon flavor was a necessary palate-cleanser. I am, admittedly, a sucker for ice cream with cookie bits: I love how the cookies soften, retaining a semblance of their shape. Mark my words: I’ll be back for another cone.

Around 1:30, deep into round one of sampling, Alex and decided we needed to nap. The sun was high; we were full of pork and tequila. Nap we did, and once we awoke, we were ready for round two.

Round two was much tamer than round one, this owing to the denser crowds and the fact that we’d eaten a goodly amount. Still, I had a mild hunger: hunger enough to justify a 20-minute wait for Kung Fu’s Nunchuck Chicken Tacos. Confession: I wasn’t super stoked about these tacos — I almost always prefer carnitas or carne asada. As in the Three Twins Ice Cream Incident, Kung Fu’s tacos unraveled my loose-constructed bias. Oh, man: the chicken was soooooo savory: umami savory (#marinatedfordaze). It had a depth of flavor I normally associate with beef. Garnished with diced red onions, brilliantly dotted with sriracha, these tacos were a hit. I only wish I’d eaten two instead of one.

Against all odds, Endless Summer Sweets’ funnel cake was my favorite item of the day. Seemingly brainless, the funnel cake is a true marvel of food engineering; the intricacy with which the dough coils and solidifies is, frankly, pretty badass. So many cakemakers smother their goods with powdered sugar, but not Endless Summer Sweets — the cooks dusted just a few shakes of sugar, followed by a spatula’s worth of fresh whipped cream and quartered, late-season strawberries. Those berries? Those were what did me in. Mercilessly sweet and bright as lacquer: oh, strawberries! I wish I had some of them now.

At one point, twenty minutes into the wait for my funnel cake, I asked myself, “Is this worth it?” The jostling, the cost, the empty calories: so worth it.

***

*When I was ten, B&J’s seemed hella gourmet. Remember the time before artisan ice creameries popped up on every corner? I do.

**Not always, though. The Awl usually has good lists.

One Year Old!

Happy birthday to Garky Eats! It was one year ago today that I made public my first post on this blog, formalizing my ramblings about my dining out, cooking experiments, and gastro nostalgia. It’s an indicator of my age to say this, I know, but damn, did that past year seem to go quickly: I barely blinked and it was gone. Oy! All downhill from here, I gather.

Because I’m totally one to dwell on the past, I’ve whipped up this list of my favorite posts from the last year. In case you’re wondering how I selected these posts, well, there’s no easy answer. Some are favorites for personal reasons — I was having an inexplicably good day, or I liked the quality of light in the living room, or a certain breakfast inspired nostalgia even deeper than that expressed in my writing. Some recount the best meals of the year. And some are wild cards, representations of the fickleness of preference & choice. He-yo!

Garky’s Best: 2010 Edition

That’s enough light reading to last you the afternoon, isn’t it? (Don’t answer that.)

If you’re willing, able, and in possession of champagne, raise a glass to Garky Eats! I’ll be doing the selfsame thing in T-6 hours. Cheers!

Accidental Curry Chili

Oh, the weekend! Ah, the weekend. I didn’t give a tour Sunday and so I had a glorious three-day span to do absolutely nothing. Well, that’s not true: I was out & about every day and when, late Sunday evening, I got back to my house, I collapsed into bed and slept like a small child. What I meant to say is do absolutely nothing related to work. These past few months, I’ve honed my leisure skills and now lounge like a pro. Don’t believe me? I’ve got references.

My social schedule is directly linked to my tendency to eat like a frat dude, and this weekend, my fratty diet hit an all-time low (high?). Friday, I met Emily for lunch at The Little Chihuahua, where we sampled all the salsas and where I had a beautiful tostada salad of mixed greens, queso fresco, mixed greens, cukes & tomatoes, black beans, mango salsa and — best of all — carnitas! (I love nothing like I love carnitas: fact.*)

I had carnitas again Saturday evening, this time around in an amazing dorado-style taco, gobbled down ten minutes before guests arrived. I ate peanut M&Ms, jalapeno Cheetos, and mediocre Ethiopian food. At Sunday’s brunch, I had Shakshouka, roasted fingerling potatoes, baked bacon, and mimosas (made with fresh juice: y’all should be #jealz). Sunday afternoon, I munched pizza from Arizmendi** and sucked down coconut water like my life depended on it (it did). I drank enough champagne to render debt ceiling news irrelevant.

(Note: If you’re wondering how I didn’t emerge from the weekend eight to ten pounds heavier, wonder on. I’m in the same befuddled boat. Buuuut, I’m not going to question the magic of my metabolism, lest my questioning change things.)

You know you’ve had a good weekend when, during your Saturday night*** walk home, you see the Chronicle being delivered. But such indulgence — gastronomic and recreational alike — isn’t sustainable. By Monday morning, I was craving healthier offerings.

When I got home from work last night, I immediately changed into pajamas and got to cooking. I’d spent most of my 80-minute commute pondering what to make — stir fry? pancakes in a lake of grade-A syrup? — and decided on chili. Hearty, warm, and comparatively nutritious, chili is what my weary body craved.

As with most things I now like, I detested chili growing up. I’d dump enough shredded cheddar and oyster crackers on my portion to obscure the rusty surface, and I’d chase each spoonful with a glug of milk. (Note: I still don’t like drinking milk with meals.) My tastes have evolved enough to foster a love of chili, and I make a batch every few months.

As I cooked, sis called. She and I rehashed our weekends, swapped facebook gossip, and bemoaned our respective living situations. In short, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. As I shook spices into the pot, I remember thinking, “Hmm, this cumin doesn’t smell like cumin!” Of course, I didn’t stop to assess what I was doing; I forged ahead.

It was too late to correct my mistake once I’d realized what my mistake was: I’d added curry powder instead of cumin. Ooops. Rather than chuck the whole batch of chili, I added cumin (and a bit of Tabasco) and carried on. Yes, I felt like a dumbass. No, I wouldn’t let dumbassery ruin my night.

Today at lunch I sampled my creation. Verdict: I like it more than regular chili. To be fair, I’m fond of really spicy things, and this chili is really spicy. Accounting for my bias, this chili is still pretty damn good; the curry powder adds depth to what can be a flat flavor profile. If you care to replicate my stumbled-upon results, see the recipe below.

Cheers to a healthy week, friends. Come Friday, I’ll once again raise a glass of champagne. Until then, it’s tofu, tea, and thoughts of yoga.

Accidental Curry Chili

Ingredients

  • One package (1.25 pounds) ground turkey (or ground beef, if you prefer)
  • Approximately two tablespoons olive oil
  • One medium onion, diced
  • Two bell peppers, seeded and diced
  • Two (15-ounce) cans tomato sauce
  • One (15-ounce) can whole tomatoes
  • One can kidney beans, rinsed and drained
  • Salt and pepper (to taste)
  • Red pepper flakes — a few hearty shakes
  • Cumin — a few hearty shakes
  • Curry powder — one scant tablespoon
  • Tabasco sauce — one scant tablespoon

Method

  1. In a large, nonstick skillet (sprayed with cooking spray), brown turkey. Once turkey is cooked through, remove from heat and set aside.
  2. To a Dutch oven, add approximately two tablespoons of olive oil. Add diced onion and peppers and cook for several minutes (until onions are translucent). Add cooked turkey, tomato sauce, tomatoes, and kidney beans. Stir to incorporate all ingredients.
  3. Here’s where things get fuzzy: add your spices. Yes, I realize that my measurements are hella imprecise, but that was deliberate — I don’t know how spicy you like your chili! If you’re like me, add several hearty shakes of everything. If you’re more timid, take it easy with the red pepper flakes and omit the Tabasco. The world is your oyster! Add as much spice (or as little) as you prefer!
  4. Simmer your chili until much of the liquid has absorbed, about half an hour.
  5. Serve warm with sour cream and cornbread. (I used this recipe by Mark Bittman and was wholly satisfied.)

***

*Exaggeration. Mom, I love you more than I love pork! I can think of a few other people and things I love more, but for the sake of argument (and continued enjoyment of lunch), I’ll leave the above statement as is.

**Which is completely deserving of the hype, reluctant as I am to admit it. I’m a bit of a curmudgeon and things that truly deserve hype make me cranky, then happy — after all, if the food really is that good, I’m not going to be a jerkface for long.

***Using the term loosely here.