Last week I mentioned I’d be preparing a fancy new recipe with my new 2 week food planning guide. (By the way, that guide is changing my life. I no longer do a dozen market runs for odd ingredients, or worry if I’m going to have the right items on hand for a meal. The mystery is gone, and I love it. It’s planned, working and yummy. Booyah.)

That fancy new recipe was this month’s cover for Bon Appetit: prosciutto-wrapped stuffed pork loin, over apples.

Pros:

Beautiful presentation

Kale. Any time I can use kale, for humor’s sake, I do. Adam hates kale and thinks I’m insane for regularly finding ways to include it in my diet. And so, as our friendship goes, I find ways to add kale to breakfast. And cocktails.

I learned a new cooking technique: butterflying a loin. Who knew it was so easy? (And here I thought butterflying a loin was pulling a muscle in the 200 meter.)

I got to use a meat thermometer I didn’t even know I owned. Score one for the gadget gods!

Did I already mention beautiful presentation, with cooking twine and all? Such fun to put together. 

The baked apples. Propping up the loins to cook over halved apples is genius. And the result is savory, sweet deliciousness. The meat with the cooked, tart, green apples is nothing short of delightful.

Cons:

A dozen expensive ingredients, including $10 worth of mushrooms that ended up being indistinguishable

Not a recipe for a single cook. If Alma hadn’t been visiting, there was no way I could have tied the pork together alone. It was not a hard job, but one that certainly required 4 hands.

DRY. The cook time is totally off. Comments on the recipe show that I’m not the only one to be disappointed with how dry the meat came out of the oven. Come to find out 100 minutes at 400 degrees is a MOTHER LOAD OF HEAT for one little 2.5 pound loin. Some 45 minutes would suffice. (Use yer trusty thermometer to judge.)

And perhaps most “con:” gross leftovers. I tried having this for lunch today and it just wasn’t good. Chances are I will not make this recipe again. The meal cost more than $50 to cook for the 3 of us, with ample leftovers. Sadly, I was counting on those for lunch and dinner today.

~K

There are nights I dream of Gallo Blanco’s tacos.

Just kidding about the sex. But since you’re here…

One of my goals for 2011 was to be better about tracking expenses. I spent September intentionally using only debit, and Mint to categorize where my expenses landed.

Needless to say the dining slice of the pie was ala mode.

hi! I’m unfashionable pie. Somebody give me a scoop already.

Nothing makes me feel more disgusted than throwing food away. It’s disgraceful. In an attempt to be better about both controlling silly food related spending and reducing food waste, I requested the advice of friends on Facebook/Twitter.

There were a variety of clever ideas, with one central theme: make soup. Save what you don’t use and throw it in a pot and clean up your fridge regularly with a hodgepodge soup. Also, plan. My friend Stacey provided an ideal solution. Her two-week food planning Google doc tracks groceries and meals. It makes you sit down, look at your calendar and appropriately schedule meals, and related shopping.

mmmm… soup. Likely to use this roasted squash recipe to clean up what’s left of the gourds in the garden.

I love it.

Earlier this week I set up 2.5 weeks worth of meals, leaving ample room for eating out (with friends in town, this is a certainty), and the chance to cook one fancy new recipe that requires speciality ingredients. These will both help me stick to the plan. Then I cut coupons. For less than $150, I purchased enough food to cook 8 large dinners (to feed 4+), breakfast and lunch. I also restocked my trifecta of bad habits: Diet Coke/coffee/chardonnay. There are leftovers scheduled too. (Those who say “I don’t eat leftovers” make me crabby. There are 7 million children starving in the horn of Africa. Shut up and take the to-go box.)

The next couple of weeks include: Mexican meatloaf, arroz con pollo, BBQ, chicken enchiladas, prosciutto wrapped roasted pork loin, crock pot green chile and chicken pot pie.

So, here I am. The coupon-cutting meal planner who revels in Type A organization and budgets to the penny. In other words, I’m a raspberry beret away from becoming this woman.

The kind you buy at a second-hand store,

~K

I try not to buy copies of magazines while I’m waiting at the grocery store. I canceled several subscriptions when I moved because I just couldn’t keep up.* But when I saw the October issue of Bon Appetit, I couldn’t resist. I so love finding a magazine recipe for something I’ve never even considered making, heading off to the grocery with a list of ingredients and watching it come to life. Rarely do I get out of my normal BBQ-meatloaf-casserole routine. Red wine braised short ribs, thankfully, shook up the schedule. Soon enough I was introducing myself to the local butcher and walking out with pounds of 2-inch ribs, vegetables and bottles of cabernet.

Worse case scenario, you open the bottle of wine and order a pizza. Best case scenario: the recipe worked. And oh, sweet heavens, it was one of the best meals I’ve ever made.

I paired the ribs with my friend Juliann’s mashed sweet potatoes and whipped up a peach cobbler for dessert, using up the last of my bushel from Palisade, CO.

I’m adding this recipe to mine for rack of lamb. So incredibly easy to prepare for such great results. The key is to find a good butcher who will trim the fat and cut the ribs for you. Otherwise, buy an extra bottle of wine to sip while these cook away.

Winner, winner spare rib dinner. (With left overs, if you are lucky!)

~K

*Come to find out after a month of careful budgeting, it’s these little expenses that kill me softly.

I know. The title sounds nuts. Bacon is the cliche ingredient in far too many recipes these days. But let me assure you, for those who love a bit of sweet and salt and are willing to try an unconventional dessert — the reviews are astounding. Folks love these cookies.

Ingredients:

Your traditional chocolate chip cookie recipe (I’m a fan of Nestle Toll House’s. Why mess with what works?)

1 pound of bacon, cooked until crispy, drained and broken into dime-sized pieces

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon maple extract

Combine, cook for 8-10 minutes, serve with milk or bourbon. As breakfast or a post-dinner surprise.

~K

Rainah’s first birthday cake — a reminder that my ambition and ability rarely match. That said, if there was ever a time for a sloppy, obviously homemade birthday cake, better now than when she can remember it!

~K

I’ve been playing in a weekend co-ed kickball league. The game is sloshball, meaning each team gets a full keg to finish during five meager innings. There are two rules to sloshball:

1. You must always have a league cup in your hand including some liquid, and

2. You cannot be a jerk. Competitive, drunk, take your version thereof. No jerks.

As a non-beer drinker, I’m there for the fun. And fun, it is. This is such a rowdy crowd of 20 and 30 somethings. Our team captain decided last week each game will now have a costume element too. This week’s theme is “hawaiian,” code for the men want the women to play in bikinis. I’m no prude, but running bases in a bikini, holding a cup of beer, isn’t at the top of my bucket list.

In lieu of being leid, I’m attending another party. In my place, I sent treats: kahlua buttercream chocolate coconut cupcakes.

So much sweeter than my flesh on public display.

~K

Fast forward 14 years {sidenote: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD AND BURRITOS! 14 years? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?}, and I’m just getting a chance to do that bakery gig. I’m training under a culinary school grad on the proper method of whipping up scones, muffins, cake, quick breads, cookies, cinnamon rolls and quiche. The very part-time weekend shift starts around 5 am, so that training part starts with me sticking my head in a bucket of espresso. Thankfully, they also serve such beverages and I get to drink as much as I fancy on the clock.

Brilliant productivity decision by management.

I’m considering this latest life experience great training and research for another book. It always comes back to the writing, which makes me realize this is yet another example of the grass always being greener. You know how you have this vision of what your life would be like professionally if you did something like, say, work at Disneyland, play a professional sport or run a bakery? Well. I am extra thankful my parents didn’t let me ditch traditional schooling. I’m a confident writer. I’m a meager pastry chef. (Plus, I’d be the Cinderella who’d run off with Snow White, Ariel and Jasmine to create our own fairy tale: the Empowered Super Heroine League — capable of saving our own asses!)

Professional baking: crossed off the bucket list.

~K

Other than my lame attempts at poetry and my very public screaming about the weather for the last week (see: Twitter) — I’ve been thinking about this new little home I’m building. Technically, I’m renting. But let me get carried away, will you?

The creation of a home is something that requires magic. How many have visited a house that felt homey? Or maybe you better remember those that didn’t? It is strange to be in a house that is so perfect it resembles a Stepford scene/Pottery Barn catalog. On the contrary, my favorite homes are interesting for the same reasons my friends are — quirks, flaws and wild senses of both humor and creativity.

Not my childhood home

The home I grew up in was immaculate. Homemade quilts on the backs of couches and tucked in tidy linen closets, rows of homemade preserves and pickled vegetables in the pantry, a riot of roses in deep planters overlooking the living room window. My mother was a domestic queen who thoroughly enjoyed keeping house, including a penny-perfect budget.

My mother, I’m sadly not. But she did provide great encouragement for her children to be artsy dreamers. The house of my dreams is similar in design to that of Frida’s childhood home in Mexico. Adobe walled bedrooms, with French doors leading to a central courtyard — where giant, old trees are wrapped in tiny white lights, and a kitchen full of pottery and a warm meal awaits any visitor. I was closer to recreating this vision living in the desert southwest. And by “closer,” I mean a long-shot.

Also, not my childhood home

Alas, my dream home isn’t a log cabin in some remote up-canyon community. (Lovely to vacation, but my social heart would die a sad, lonely death up in them there hills.)  Instead, my Colorado homestead blueprints include:

• A rustic farm table with benches for the kitchen — rumor has it my carpenter grandfather is working on this for me. Spoiled? Slightly. I hope to host many community dinners and eventually feed a family at this table. I am so very, very thankful my grandfather is creating this heirloom for my new home.
• A kitchen window where I can hang the Japanese curtain panel I purchased and tucked away years ago, knowing the day would eventually come when, indeed, I could look out over my
• kitchen garden. Have you heard of a potager? Frida and Diego had one of these too. In theory, you should be no farther than arm’s length from the kitchen to harvest herbs. For this home, this garden will be one of pots. While I timed my escape of Arizona’s heat just right, I underestimated the time it would take to get settled to plant my own garden in time. A few potted tomatoes, basil and other herbs will be just outside of that window, next to the compost bin — also handy to have near the kitchen sink. Grandpa already built the compost bin. I know. A carpenter and a quilter in the family? I’m lucky.
• My own pantry lined with Mason jars full of food I’ve grown and preserved
• A proper guest room with plenty of clean linens for the many visitors I’ve have scheduled for summer get-aways
• A stack of board games and a wine fridge; I’d rather entertain with these than a television
• A large dog bed in the living room, a large coop full of fowl in the yard, and a porch with a bench, pots of flowers and a wind chime
• Framed photos of the many I love
• A basket over-flowing with yarn, needles and projects to share with visitors
• Another basket for cards and correspondence — what a treat to have the postman come to my door!
• A chalk board where I can list my prayer for the week

This is all coming together; it really is such a dream to be in the mountains, at this phase of life. I wish more than anything I could be surrounded by those I love from Arizona. Until then, here I will be an urban homesteader — a title I will take with pride.

-k

How to move these small items without causing a kinky, knotty nightmare?

It is far from glamourous, but a couple of these tool drill bit boxes from the local hardware store worked beautifully. Plus, they stack nicely and can slide under a bed if necessary.

This move is feeding the very type A, over-organized happy side of me. If I was a superhero, my scream for forward march would not be “Onward Ho!,” but “To the Container Store!”

~K

There is something rather awesome about coming home to a pot of wonder bubbling on the stove (I prepped, Matt put it in the oven), a fridge full of locally grown vegetables and a patio begging for some attention. Throw in a handful of people I consider family, a sky full of stars and two of the sweetest dogs on earth at our feet? Simply perfect.

I’m making the same pot of pork for Adam’s birthday tomorrow. I’ll modify the recipe with a can of diced pineapple too. Shredded on tortillas with a bit of avocado? Divine.

~K

\ \

167 calories per slice with this Cooking Light recipe. And oh man, is it good. Having time to bake like this is such an indulgent luxury. I love the weighing and measuring and I want to dance around the house as it fills with the warm smell of baking spices.

Happiness, at times, comes in a loaf.

Tonight, this is to be shared with friends after dinner. I’m bringing together friends new and old for a small dinner party on the patio. Another joy — November weather in Arizona.

~K

Delicioso!

This was actually so much fun, it almost made me reconsider my superstitious notions of owning a KitchenAid pre-marriage. Almost.

~K

Dark chocolate almond brownies for Cody’s birthday dinner. The recipe would be a Betty Crocker mix + a handful of almonds + the high altitude instructions on the box. Voila!

~K

More pesto with basil fresh and warm from the garden — for portabello pesto pizza

Strawberries fresh from the market — for my sweet tooth

Double chocolate chunk cookies — as bribes for good behavior with the gardening kids

Yesterday, a friend on Facebook posted she was having Slimfast for dinner. I cringed. I’ve had such things for dinner before and probably will again, but ew. The chalkiness, the complete lack of satisfaction, the nonsense behind such products that make us think they make us healtheir. I cannot pronounce the majority of the ingredients.

I simply feel incredibly fortunate to have this hunger for real, whole foods. You know, with ingredients such as strawberries. Basil. Garlic. Walnuts. Olive Oil. No fine print required.  It hasn’t always been this way. There was a time I very happily lived on $.69 bean burritos from Taco Bell. I honestly cannot tell you the last time I ate fast food, other than the occasional Rubio’s splurge. I’m no where near the sustainability and domestic creativity of that Finny, but I’m hopeful those meal-in-a-can/bar days are behind me.

~K

I hosted a small birthday party last night for my friend Shoshana. She loves all things French and having never spent time there, I did what I could to accommodate her francophone ways with a bit of cliche food: croissants, cheese, bread, wine, chocolate, nuts, and of course girly pink wine.

She was tickled rose.

By the end of the night, I had a gaggle of girls laughing hysterically and listening to stories about everything from Costa Rican adventures to living as an Orthodox Jew in college and what we really think of the statue David. Ahem. It was a breath of fresh air and I felt my hostess spirits renewed.

~K