Don't call it a comeback

Welcome readers! Much has happened in our absence. First of all, Pinterest was invented, ruining or enhancing the lives of cubicle drones everywhere with beautiful pictures of food, fashion, home goods, beautiful places... like we don't get enough visual stimulation by looking at computers for hours a day, we now have envy over those perfectly executed cupcakes, "easy freezer meals", the World's Best Macaroni and Cheese, and swoon worthy cocktails. But we can't look away. So thus it's time to throw our hats into the ring yet again and breathe some life into this creaky url. Thanks, Pinterest, for keeping the pilot light of cooking alive in our hearts. And just in time too, as Google Reader is slowly being phased out over the next few months...

But this is not a tech blog! You came to eat. And eat I did last night, at my first outing at Girl and the Goat. Wow guys. This place is the real deal. First of all, it's gorgeous on the inside, and was totally packed but not too loud at all. The space didn't feel cramped, the servers were attentive, and the wide front windows allow a perfect view of Randolph Street in all of its pre-Spring glory. The food was wonderful, small plates but everything cooked with care and attention. My dining companion and I shared:

• Wheat bread with peanut butter butter (not a typo, freakin' delicious) and honey
• Chickpea fritters (at the recommendation of Martha)
• Broccoli with bleu cheese (tasted like some kind of smoked meat, amazing and taste-bud befuddling)
• Diver scallops and of course
• Goat belly with crab and lobster

All in all, fantastic! I think the chickpea fritters were the most filling, the broccoli the most surprising, and the goat belly was  tender and crispy and amazing all at once.

The only odd part was our reservations were for 4:30. And they had been made in January.  We were totally done by 6 pm, which was great ... but a little strange. What's a girl to do?

...Wander down to the first annual Fete Market, of course! I had gotten an email from my old pals at Tasting Table a while back about this event but had not planned on attending due to my work schedule. Thankfully things got shifted around and I was able to attend. Holy guacamole. I've never seen so many people crammed into such a small space. After paying a $5 entrance fee I hung up my coat and took it all in.  The first floor had a few food stands such as Mama's Nuts, Co-Op Hot Sauce, 5 Rabbit beer, Maria's Packaged Goods, etc, as well as some clothing, dinner ware, and a book store. (Marcel the Shell!)  But upstairs was rockin' and rollin' beyond belief!  It was tons of restaurants and bars and everything all crammed into the upstairs floor of the warehouse with me and 1000 of my non-closest friends in super close-friend territory, aka "all up in my biz."

I did happen to find my friend who was bartending at Longman & Eagle and we shout-chatted at each other a bit. I started to feel overwhelmed after a while by the madness and escaped to Firecakes where, inspired by Miss Fats (click to see pictures), I picked out a butterscotch praline filled doughnut. I cradled it all the way home, the long way down the Ashland bus, and ate it with a delicious mug of milk.  Perfect end to the night.... foodie heaven.

The perks of being a cubicle drone

I started a new job about a month and a half ago. (Egads, it's almost been two months, but let's pretend that time is not passing ever so rapidly even thought that's technologically impossible...!) It's at an office downtown and I have never been more excited about an office building. The layout is nice and open and I have a wonderful view of the river when I walk down the hall. The sun comes in even when I'm far away from any windows and I have delightful "cube buddies" in my little quadrant. I've started to put up pictures and I'm nesting in quite nicely if I do say so myself. The workload is getting easier as time goes on and I'm getting more and more confident every day.

One of the most awesome things about working downtown is the access to all of the culinary delights Chicago has to offer, in particular food trucks! My coworkers are obsessed with food trucks, and with good reason. In the past two weeks we have had: tamales from the Tamalli Space Ship, empanadas from 5411 Empanadas, and today we had macaroni and cheese from The Southern Mac.

Additionally, there is a delightful little French-style market in the basement of the train station, and I am able to get quite a lot of chicken for four dollars, fresh produce, and a big ol' heap of Belgian frites (fries). These frites have awakened a dormant love for mayonnaise in me, and I don't know if I feel excited or ashamed.

Today I followed the wrappers until I found that USA Network was handing out free mini Häagen-Dazs cones for whatever reason. So fancy, they even had toasted walnuts on top!

I used to think the best part about working downtown would be to be close to all of my friends who've been working down here for the last few years. I imagined them all to be lunching together, laughing and having a grand old time. In reality, one of them goes to Wendy's "1.5 x per week" (when I asked how, he said he goes 1 time 1 week and 2 times the next week), another usually brings her lunch, and still another favors sandwiches over elaborate lunches with friends. Anyway, they're all far enough apart that it doesn't really work to meet up after all. But as long as I've got my free ice cream, I think I'm okay with that.

We're moving forward but holding ourselves back

Image courtesy of http://www.littlegooselakehaus.com

It was less than a year ago that I wrote about Zebra Cakes and my Grandma's strange fixation. Tonight as I prepare for Easter at my Aunt's, I am focusing my energies on a different kind of cake, the lamb cake.

Origins of this tasty treat are unclear, but I feel like I've been eating it forever. Grandma's best friend since forever had a really fancy, really heavy, cast iron lamb-shaped mold that was loaned to us every so often until Helen passed away several years ago. More recently, a cheaper, aluminum mold has had to make do, and it produced, at least last year, delicious results.

My personal experience with the cake has spanned three years. Two years ago I made it myself at my old abode, Chez Magnolia. As awesome as Magnolia was, we lacked quite a few major appliances including a hand mixer. No matter! thought I, ever intrepid baker. I will use a whisk. So I whisked and whisked and poured it in the mold. (Please note, mold is 3D). After baking it the allotted time, I removed it from the oven to find that the cake had not risen a whit. No matter! thought I again, and plopped it on a plate. It seemed a bit... heavy, but I didn't dwell on it. I took it safely to my Uncle's house and anxiously awaited dinner to be over so everyone could eat the deliciousness.

After dinner the cake was brought out. Everyone was a bit puzzled why it was flat instead of standing. I tried to assure them it was still quite delicious. We all took a slice and began to chew. A moment of silence passed... then another... then another. I looked up from my plate and around the table and everyone burst out laughing. It was the worst. cake. ever. Instead of a pound cake I had made a 5 pound cake. I kept a good game face on but I was crushed. Grandma took the mold back and assured me things would be better next year...

Last year I went to Grandma's a few days early. Being (mostly) unemployed had it's perks, after all. She showed me the essential trick: Crisco-ing the inside of the pan, both sides. I was super grossed out but watched her fill each nook and cranny with the nasty old pastry brush. We put the greased up little lamb in the oven, crossed our fingers, and waited.

The cake came out beautifully. It helped that we had a real live mixer, none of this silly whisking business. I think Grandma would be pleased to know that J replaced my frantic, only speed being freaky fast mixer with a more respectable Hamilton Beach model for Valentine's Day. (Boy knows the key to my heart!)

I don't really miss her as hard as I used to but Easter brings with it a slew of memories: Easter Vigil mass on Saturday night, lamb caking it up, watching the Golden Girls all weekend, showing off my Easter dress and sweater combo that I got for less than 12 bucks at the Salvation Army. It was only a few short days after Easter last year that she got sick for the first time, and things were downhill from there. This year I'll be remembering her laughing at me for being so squeamish about the Crisco, telling me stories about her past lamb cakes, and sending up to her all the love my heart can handle... hoping to make her proud with my solo attempt lamb cake.

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements? --Adele

I've been running for about two full months now, having started at the end of January. The first week was pretty awesome. I was exhausted, but I felt good. I had tons of energy, and was startled by the amount of time I could give over to the pursuit of... whatever it was I was pursuing. Previous hours spent looking at Facebook, blogging, or whatever-ing were now spent at the gym. And with good reason, winter in Chicago is brutal with a capital B. So I was happy to get endorphins at a time when I normally consume every sweet in site and turn into a mini Jabba the Hutt. Tasty.

Yet after that first week I didn't really get any kind of "high" like I was anticipating. I wasn't as sore, which is a plus, don't get me wrong, but running is hard. Hard like, I always feel like I'm going to fall off the treadmill (this did happen). Hard like, I really hate this. Hard like, omg am I even older than I anticipated, I can hardly run a mile!

Last week I ran two miles straight every day that I ran. And I feel better than I did before, as long as I keep my pace. This week I was supposed to up it to three. But then Spring Break happened, my running buddies all went home, and I can't seem to get out of bed in the morning to save my life, and I just kinda stopped. This morning I went to the gym, but only for a shower. I'm hoping this week off will jump start the feelings I had when I first started and keep me going strong until the date of the Shuffle (April 10, eek!). I know I can do this, it's just keeping motivated is really hard. And when I feel like crap all the time even though I've been going to bed at about 10:30 every night for the last three weeks (high school all over again!) and not eating sweets at all, minus one day, for my birthday, where I had a piece of cake. And yesterday, where I had a mini cupcake, but that was to support the kids, all right??

So we'll see. A small break. Maybe it's a sign. If I start feeling better I'll know I have made the right choice. Here's to next Monday and new beginnings.

Meanwhile, here's a picture of something I cannot have:

Tricks and Treats

M: so how are you going to eat birthday cake during lent

me: omg, nina asked me the same thing

i usually make an exception for my birthday

if it's just one time

M: ah

that's what jesus did, too, i think

because his birthday fell in the middle of the 40 days

me: ...

M: so he got drunk and ate

Yes, it's true. I used to be one of those sad children who had to bring bagels in to class for a birthday treat because my birthday ALWAYS falls within Lent. This year I'm giving up sweets, even though my roommate laughed at me, saying I could give up something else if I wanted, but seriously guys, my sweet tooth is the size of Texas. I need to cut back. So we begin.

Last night I went out with a friend to celebrate the end of her last job. We went to Margie's and it was magical. In fact, M and I had already visited the location nearer to us on Monday, in anticipation of this Lent thing. Margie's has MASSIVE amounts of ice cream and home made hot fudge, and candy, and basically it's like Willa Wonka's sweet shop plopped down in the middle of Chicago. And last night I discovered you can get "swiss fudge" which means they swirl marshmallow fluff into your fudge before they serve it to you and pretty much what all this means is that it was a terrible place to spend Ash Wednesday.

But I'll be back, Margie. With a vengeance! 39 days to go.

On the tricks side of this post we have a few contenders.

1) M sent me this video today and it is not only disturbing but made me down right hate America...

http://news.yahoo.com/video/us-15749625/the-heart-attack-grill-24471051

2) Chartwells, provider of food for my Alma Mater and current employer, has often incurred the wrath of not only me but many colleagues. Students recently organized and won a "living wage campaign" because Chartwells workers were not being paid living wages and had no health insurance, despite working full time at the University, some of them for several years. The students rallied with the workers and helped them unionize, and things are fine now, health insurance and the whole nine yards.

Sadly, Chartwells' shenanigans run much deeper. As I found out first hand, ordering from them can be ... an experience. With a capital "E", no less! They have questionable descriptions for their food menus, for example:

The Bronzeville: Ribs, Fried Chicken, and Watermelon (seriously?!)
The Pilsen: Fajitas, Rice and Beans
The Wentworth Avenue: Dim Sum and Chinese food

Why don't they just call it "soul food", "taco bar", or "asian cuisine"? In trying to be "cute", they're just being offensive. My supervisor sent off this email tonight (yes, after 5 pm sh*t does hit the fan over here):

"This is absurd and demeaning!! It sounds like the Jim Crow menu. This is wrong on sooo many levels (e.g. so they don’t eat tacos, chicken, and ribs in Lincoln Park??). Should we (Steans & Egan) continue to order from Chartwells and sit by while they spend our money and spit in our face at the same time? Do we refuse to purchase from them until they change names for their menu options? Do we bring this to the larger university administration’s attention and demand that they make Chartwells change this non-sense?

What is the proper course of action here? Do we even care? What say the rest of the village on this one?"

Well village, let's talk about this :)