Saturday was the coziest, happiest day. Alex made us brunch — scrambled eggs with gouda, Josey’s toast, and fresh blackberries — and afterward, properly fueled, I hit a thrift store that I’d never before visited but had always been curious about. So many finds! I picked up a rad, polka-dotted dress (totally 90s), an off-white capelet (totally 60s), and Supertramp’s Breakfast in America. I’m most stoked about the capelet, I think — I’m gonna have the warmest shoulders on the block.
Later, I continued my Massive Recipe Organization Project, which is one phase away from completion(!) When I needed a break, I headed kitchenward.
Last week, Brett Bara posted a recipe for Savory Rosemary Shortbread on her blog, and I experienced instant fascination. Only five ingredients, four of which I have in my cupboard? A guaranteed crowd-pleaser that can be made with the smallest bit of effort? Sign me the hell up, baby!
This was my inaugural foray into shortbread baking; consequently, I followed the recipe exactly, except for my substitution of lavender salt for regular. (The substitution seemed, to my palate, only natural, and the final product substantiates this impulse.) On the whole, I’m pleased with the end result, though next time I may add just the tiniest smidge more butter — or maybe I won’t. I much prefer the sandy texture of homemade shortbread to the chemical crispness of OTC varieties — the softness hints at the dessert’s sources, which themselves are soft and sandy.
Shortbread represents my favorite type of baking project: one that is straightforward, relies on only a few ingredients, and yields a result that tastes far more complex than its components. Bonus: I hear that shortbread freezes well — a good thing, because it’s very rich. As many pieces as I’ll likely nibble today, it’s good to have a backup stash in case of dessert emergency.
If you have a free hour today or tomorrow, do yourself a favor and make this shortbread. Come teatime/snacktime/desserttime, you will thank yourselves (and maybe me, for the encouragement).
As Alex prepared the mac, I took over salad prep. Above, you’ll see the salad (undressed): a simple assemblage of butter lettuce, English cucumber, halved tiny tomatoes, and paper-thin radish slices for pepperiness. In an old jar, I mixed a simple vinaigrette: oil and vinegar and Maldon salt and fresh pepper and lemon juice and a wee bit of fresh maple syrup, for the tiniest hint of sweetness. Fresh vinaigrette — so easy and so satisfying — is one of my current favorite things. In fact, I think I’ll make some this evening, just because.
Bloody Marys, because they are the spiciest — cough & sputter spicy — and because they have the saltiest olives. Burgers with homefries because I recently discovered that I like mayonnaise (WHAT?), and because a burger sounded good. I’ll tell ya, Zeitgeist does homefries right. I don’t know their secret (though I suspect it’s rooted in oil), but their fries are golden-orange-and-crunchy on the outside, pillowy within — a rare find.
After our weekend o’ revelry, I felt it necessary to scale back my indulgences just a wee bit: not as much bacon, not as much champagne, more veggies, more tea. Vitamins to the max. My plan followed thusly: I wouldn’t stop eating the foods I loved, I’d just add a bunch of healthy stuff to them to get some nutrition alongside my grease. Dig?
For this event, MP opened their kitchen space to guests — a rare treat. Many is the time that I’ve walked by and wondered what it would be like to chill near the stand mixer, and now, my question has been answered. (Answer: such chilling is just as cool as expected.)
Moving through the kitchen, we ran into 
Before leaving, Alex decorated a section of the prayer flag to be hung outside the shop. Looking through the flags already decorated, I couldn’t help but feel buoyed by the optimism of the messages — responses to the question, “What do you wish for?” A few people expressed wishes for personal gain (“to be prosperous!” was one person’s response), but most expressed desire for a larger good — for everyone to have enough to eat, for peace in the community and worldwide. Even I, normally a bit of a snarkmeister, felt warm and cozy.
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Perhaps this fluidity — climatic, geographical, emotional — is what allowed for my full acceptance of a non-traditional Xmas breakfast. Rather than bake a Dutch Baby as we’ve done every year (literally every year), my mom, sis, and I opted out. Our breakfast was simpler: ready-made cinnamon rolls drizzled with shockingly sweet frosting; Pannetone spread thick with butter; bacon and hard-boiled eggs; fruit salad; and cup after cup of coffee, its bitterness mitigated with soy milk and stevia.
