The Logic of Two Ovens…or a Thanksgiving Cooking Manifesto

It’s 8:00am and I’m awake in bed, trying to plot out in my coffee-deprived brain how to most efficiently stage my Thanksgiving cooking. I do this every year (at least the years when I’m responsible for more than one dish) and it strikes me that today, of all days, two ovens is a must-have.

I’m as disturbed (and secretly exhilarated) by American excess, our multi-colored and advertising-drenched aisles of toothpastes and dental floss (whitening, tartar control, pro-enamel, sensitive gums, etc.), the unending shelves of cereal for the sugar junkies and health nuts alike, the thrumming rows of frozen vegetables, microwave meals and bagel pizzas.

But two ovens? Man, you won’t know how much you covet them until a day like today. And I’m not even cooking a turkey this year. Reheating a cooked one for several hours – yes. But starting from scratch – no. Nonetheless, Turkey Day requires copious preparation, the will of a field army general, and the absolute confidence to kick people the hell out of your kitchen (this means you, CityBoy, get your own damn kitchen).

Our motley assortment of serving dishes prepped and ready to go

So far, my Thanksgiving day cooking consist of:

Eggplant caponata (done and chilling in the fridge)

Sweet potato casserole (prepped and ready to go into the oven for 30 minutes)

Mashed potatoes

Roasted Brussel sprouts

Green beans pancetta

First, an Announcement…

So something extraordinary happened a few months ago, in April, to be precise.

CityBoy asked me to marry him.

Out of the blue. On a cold, rainy evening. Surrounded by candles and flowers and Filipino eggrolls. (I told you he was a good man.)

this is a proposal dinner, people!

After I stopped laughing (It was the nerves, I tell you! The nerves!), I said, “yes.”

And then there was a ring. And a book, since it’s CityBoy.

isn't it pretty?

Here we are, as illustrated by my niece Sophia.

it's scary how well this captures us

I’m one lucky lady.

I’m Alive…and Have Been to Europe!

[First off, my sincere apologies! A draft of this post has been sitting around in cyberspace since June 12th. June 12th! "Joder!" as the Madrilenos like to say. Some important things have changed in my life - more on that later - but for now, I give you this old, but still pertinent, blog post.]

Yes, faithful readers (if there are any of you still out there). Jho In The City lives. And she’s experienced Europe firsthand (Madrid, Spain to be precise).

Back in May, I visited one of my favorite people in the world, Ms. D, in her happy new home of Embajadores, Madrid for a blissful week of overeating, overdrinking and oversleeping. I wish I could go back right now and do it all over again.

I’m super backed up on things to tell you about, so I’m going to be snappy here.

First, a few things I learned in Madrid:

- Lisping is sexy. Especially when done by very beautiful Madrid boys. Hello, boys.

- Madrileños have a special relationship to ham, or jámon as they call it. I don’t know what pact with God they’ve made, but it was a good deal. If you go to Spain, eat the jámon, as much of it as you and your salt-craving palate can stomach. Then wash it all down with a local beer. Deeeee-licious.

Bellying up to the bar at Museo del Jamon

Jamon-flavored Ruffles?? I think I've found my homeland!

- Tapas cannot be fully appreciated outside of Spain. These people have got afternoon drinking down to a decadent science. Order a cold, frothy cerveza at any sidewalk cafe and they will give you free nibbles. Sometimes lots of free nibbles.

- Did I mention the free nibbles? Baskets of homemade potato chips, olives, chunks of ham or salami, bread with olive oil. It goes on and on and on. These are good people, my friends. Good, good people.

It should go without saying that we saw some beautiful things in lovely museums – the Goya room at Museo del Prado is a visual stunner I will carry with me forever – and laughed at many ridiculous things on both Spanish TV and YouTube (I now have even less reason to trust ducks).

But most of all, I’ll miss the impossibly long talks with my friend. There are people in this world who just get you, you know. They’re like your sisters but better, because they didn’t try to steal your clothes when you were young or get you in trouble for picking on them. Time with these people, these fabulous go-to-the-end-of-the-world, help-you-bury-a-body people, is so precious, you have to just forgo sleep and reasonableness and saving your voice in the name of soaking up all that good time, all those amazing stories, all that laughter, and bottling them up for the next time.

God help us, let there always be a next time.

Hasta luego,

Jho

Turkey Leftovers = Pot Pie Heaven

[Be forewarned: this should have been posted sometime soon after Thanksgiving, but I'm a lazy slob, so here it is. Pretend it's November 27th.]

At first I thought I was going to make some funky turkey soup with olio nuovo (the latest thing in olive oil supposedly) with my turkey leftovers. But then Giada interceded, with a perfectly timed Day-After-Thanksgiving appearance on the Today Show. The poor thing had to deal with the twin horror show that is Hoda and Kathie Lee, but she managed to impress upon this amateur cook how easy it would be to turn Thanksgiving leftovers into individual pot pies.

Which gave me a reason to pick up these totally cute mini soup crocks at my local Crate & Barrel.

All ready for pot pie goodness

Lights, Camera, 2011!

Fireworks over Central Park

Happy New Year, folks! We made it. This holiday season was a doozy – CityBoy and I spent an unexpected extra week (well I did; CityBoy had ants in his pants…more on that later) in Orange County, celebrating with my family and our friends and eating entirely too much good, good food.

Thankful…for a City that Appreciates a Good Bagel

Shmear Heaven

And knows of lots of ways to smother it in creamy goodness, courtesy of the fine people at Pick A Bagel, where every weekend morning there is a line through the store and out the door. Delish.

Thankful…

In the mail today, wedged in between the junk mail and the seemingly endless number of magazines to which I now subscribe, was this welcome bit of “real” mail:

Special props to my Tita Lou for this super cute, and super homemade, Thanksgiving card. It elicited a smile and a comment (“cute card”) from one of my normally sullen neighbors during a painfully silent elevator ride. So good job, Tita Lou, and thank you.

And in the spirit of thankfulness, I’ve decided to share with you a few things that brighten my day:

1) The Starbucks Morning Bun – it’s like a cross between a croissant and a cinnamon roll, but only better. Way, way, way better. I don’t always luck out at the ‘Bucks because these babies go fast. But when they’re there, watch out – that’s my Morning Bun, not yours.

it's the one in the middle

2) My Land’s End JHO bag – cuz it’s big, it’s orange, and it says my name in big BLOCK letters. Oh, and it’s got pockets up the ying-yang.

so geek chic, right?

And lastly, 3) a certain forty-something Andrew McCarthy. Because he’s reinvented himself as a travel writer, and a pretty good one at that. Because he’s still so damn hot.

oh, Blaine!

And because I got to hear him read at Strand Books, where I was [thiiiiiiiiiiis] close to him.

giving Patrick Dempsey a run for his money in the hair department

It was a reach-out-and-touch-someone moment, though I controlled myself, being a good New Yorker (our motto is “celebrity, schmallebrity”), and also because CityBoy was with me and ready to lunge out and pin my arms to my sides so I didn’t get arrested for fondling a grown man’s hair.

So in a world of nearly endless crappy news, let’s focus on the positives…our family and friends, our health, our ability to create, and the knowledge that Blaine, that blue-blooded charmer, still has it. In spades.

Rock on, people.

- Jho

Staten Island and Enoteca Maria

To commemorate our three-year anniversary, I surprised CityBoy with a trip out to Staten Island this July. We’d been talking about taking the Staten Island Ferry for months, which affords amazing views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty for free.

Ferry ride - woo hoo!

I don’t really understand how they do it, considering it costs me $2.50 to go anywhere via the MTA (which is still a colossal deal, don’t get me wrong), but it is fantastic.

Hi Lady Liberty!

And gorgeous.

And hello, Sky.

But the true highlight of the evening was our dinner at Enoteca Maria. Featured by the Wall Street Journal here, Joe Scaravella runs a fantastic little restaurant not far from the ferry terminal. Joe reminded me a lot of Frank Zappa, with his little soul patch and his rebel spirit, and he’s definitely a guy who enjoys good food.

The menu is a little overwhelming, with tons of daily appetizers and specials, and a huge variety of wines. But here’s what you do: ask Joe what to get. We were seated right at the bar, in this cozy corner (the restaurant stays busy all night long and can get loud), so we could pester him for his opinion. And boy, did he steer us right.

The menu changes every day, depending on which nonna is cooking, but the night we were there we had these amazing stuffed zucchini blossoms (which CityBoy had never had) and this mind-blowingly rich dish of oxtail:

Totally heart attack worthy

I can’t even tell you what our entree dishes were (I had some sort of pasta and CityBoy had rabbit) because I was so stupefied by the time they came.

You should make the trek because the views and the food are totally worth it. And if that doesn’t sway you, you get to pretend, coming back to The City under that glorious sky, to be Melanie Griffith in Working Girl:

Oh yeah!

Sing with me now: “Let the river run / Let all the dreamers / Wake the nation…” (Damn, I gotta find that on Netflix now.)

Rock on, people.

- Jho

Food is Love. Enjoy the Love.

I was in Southern California for a two-week visit recently, spending time with family and friends and generally stuffing my face with every tasty thing that was offered.  These included back-to-back lunch/dinner get-togethers, where I consumed almost 3,000 calories in one day (not recommended for someone who is 5’2″), and multiple visits to my parents’ house, where “no, thanks, I’m not hungry” is considered one of the most inhospitable things you can say.  In our family, food is love, and I certainly felt it this visit.

My brother-in-law scored major points by buying what seemed like 10 tons of dungeness crabs and steaming them for my uncle’s 70th birthday.  Here’s a photo:

My niece Sophia and I having a battle of the crabs. That's her little hand holding her monster up for inspection.

Springbreak for Adults, or A & M Visit

I’ve been dying for visitors, pretty much since Day 1 of moving here, so I was delighted to play ambassador to the Misses A & M during their recent stay.  Much research and looking about online preceded their arrival, mostly by CityBoy, who would have excelled as a travel planner in another life.

I know he was distressed by the lack of “historical substance”to our plans, which, if left to us, mainly involved eating, shopping, eating some more, and lots of gabbing all the while.  What about the famous landmarks, the honored museums, the ages-old transformation of old neighborhoods into the new, CityBoy asked.

their room with a view

I admit I have absorbed very little of CityBoy’s vast knowledge of the underpinnings of New York culture and history.  My version goes something like this:  “Oh, that (pointing left) is a famous building.  Something to do with insurance or banks, I think.  That (pointing right) is the restaurant Charlotte was in when she yelled at Big in the Sex and the City movie.”  My knowledge of SATC is pretty bang-on.  The rise of the mercantile class and the founding of New Amsterdam?  Not so much.