After running into pretty much everyone I know at Saint-Ex last night, I might have stayed there a bit too long and am a bit too hungover for a decent food-related post. I will be attempting Red Velvet Cake for my grandfather’s birthday over the weekend though, which should be entertaining.

That being said, BE HERE TONIGHT. You’ll still have time to go out afterwards, and can do so knowing that you’ve done your good deed for the day.

In my case, it will be a little hair of the dog for a good cause.


Hate to bury the fundraiser post, but this is worth mentioning:


I repeat,


What the fuck?

highlights include:
– one in every 36 Hispanic adults
– one in every 15 black adults
– one in every 9 black men between 20 and 34

*American adults, not Americans in general. According to the Justice Department, one of every 130 Americans is in jail.

mmm, pierogies




I bought some pierogies at the farmer’s market last week. And I finally got around to eating them last night, while watching “Who’s that Girl?” (best 80’s/Madonna movie EVER). And I have to say, not only are they delicious, but I might have invented the best pierogi eating recipe ever.

Please hold your applause.

So, these pierogies are not like the Mrs. T’s variety. the pasta itself is much thinner, and the’re massive (slightly smaller than a clementine). The guy who sold them to me said they wouldn’t hold up well to boiling, but that I could sautée them. So, I dumped them in my trusty cast-iron skillet with some olive oil and butter.

Then I got worried. The pierogies were frozen, and it soon became obvious that I was going to burn them before the insides thawed. What to do, what to do…

(/struck by lightening) I know! Potatoes+beer+cheese= yum. I’ll dump some beer into the pan and cover it and steam the suckers.

Only the only beer I had on hand was some Kasteel Rouge, a Belgian beer with cherries. It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong, but a little on the sweet side. I figured I’d take my chances though. If nothing else, it would help steam the pierogies, taste better than water (I didn’t even have any stock in the house…I know, I’m sad), and if all else failed, I still had doughy pockets of goat cheese and garlic potato-y goodness to eat in front of my favorite 80’s movie. So in it went.

After about 15 minutes of covered bubbling, I lifted my improvised lid, and fished out the pierogies, which left me with a significant amount of warm beer with bits of cheese and browned pierogies plus the butter/olive oil from earlier. Again, I went out on a lark, and decided to scrape up all the browned bits, add some balsamic to temper the sweetness, and reduce the crap out of it and dump it on my pierogies.

Sweet mother of Elmo, was it good.

I don’t know what happened in that pan, but everything combined into this glorious gravy like substance, with just a hint of cherry. I could have ingested a gravy boat full. I could have bathed in it. If I wanted kids, I would have named one of them “AccidentalPierogiCherryGravy.”

Now, photogenic, this dish is not.

But in case you couldn’t tell, I enjoyed the HELL out of it.

Wednesday Food Round-up

Frank Bruni gives Central Michel Richard some love [New York Times]
I have a crippling meatball obsession. This recipe will not help [New York Times]
A memoir about English food? Sounds better than you’d think. [New York Times]
Georgetown Cupcake…they’re right, Cakelove’s cupcakes are dry [Washington Post]
D’Vine Bakery in Shaw…”lemony sweet potato pie” baked by a woman from South Carolina? Count me in. [Washington Post]
Day of the Pig! [San Francisco Chronicle]
Am I the only one in the world who LOVES beans? Guess not. [San Francisco Chronicle]

Also, this is enough to make you lose your appetite. Boy, we are a fat, fat country.

one quick note- fundraiser!

Not that there are lots of people reading, by any means, but for those of you that are, I wanted to link to Shmee’s blog again, in support of her Wilson High Hockey fundraiser this Friday at Clyde’s in Gallery Place. I’ll be there, and you should be too. If you’re nice to me, I might even buy you a drink. And it’s all for a good cause.

Plus, there’s a good chance Shmee and I will end up tanked and be terribly entertaining.

this week at the market

No pictures this time kids, and thanks to some serious drama at my abode, I wasn’t able to eat a lot of the food from last weekend

Things I have left:
– 2 lamb and feta patties
– majority of the feta
– little bit of yogurt (but it lives in the fridge at work for breakfast)
– about 1/4 lb mesclun, arugula, and spinach
– sundried tomato pasta and sweet potato ravioli
– pierogies
– new potatoes

Things I picked up this weekend
– pear-blueberry tart, almond croissant, and chocolate almond croissant (for my mom and grandparents)
– carrots (for my mom’s Louisiana Stewed Chicken)
– Smith Meadows farms basil garlic fettuccine
– Smith Meadows farms herbs de Provence ravioli

I ate the ravioli yesterday afternoon with some olive oil, fresh basil, and pepper (much to my grandmother’s chagrin- she wanted to know where the sauce was)

If you’d like to see what the market looked like, Ed at the Slow Cook has a great post with pictures.

why didn’t you call me: german edition

Okay, so this isn’t really “why didn’t you call me?” Mainly because (being the good friend he is) VT actually invited me over for dinner.

A bit of background- his mom is from Germany, (Berlin, I believe) and as such, he’s fluent in German, and has a distinct love (read: obsession) with German food, German soccer, German/German-speaking girls, etc. In another bit of trivia, as it turns out, my mom, aunt, and uncle grew up in Germany, a result of my grandfather’s army post there. As a result, I grew up noshing on German food, thanks to my mom and grandmother. In fact, I distinctly remember a 2 week period of my life where I came home from AM kindergarten and my grandmother made me schnitzel every day for lunch. After 2 weeks of that, she rebelled, not that I blame her.

Back to the story. I showed up at VT’s condo (blessedly only a few blocks from my abode) with a bottle of Riesling and some Russian black rye bread in tow. Not that we needed wine. I got a Hefeweizen out of the fridge, plopped on the couch, and let him go to work.

The results? DELICIOUS
We had the bread, and some half pork-half veal sausages known colloquially in Berlin as currywurst. Traditionally, the sausages are served with some sort of cumin/chili spiked ketchup, which VT attempted to recreate. I was not impressed, but only because I loathe ketchup. He really came through on the spicy horseradish mustard though…

(Apologies for the poor photo quality, all I had was my camera phone.) When that says “extra hot,” Inglehoffer is NOT lying. I think we were both coughing and possibly tearing a little through dinner. (Although in my case, it might have had something to do with the fact that Duke lost to Miami and the game was NOWHERE to be found, because we had to watch a vomiting VA Tech team beat the Terps instead. But I digress)

Clearly we’re going to have to break out the schnitzel-pounding mallet for the next round.


Shmee’s out of town, and asked me to guest post.

I should also throw out that I went to my first ever hockey/Caps game with her a few Fridays ago. They played the ‘Canes and lost. However, I discovered that hockey has all the violence of football, but on skates, and with more fights! Excellent.