Romance, Chicken, and the Pacific Northwest

In the summer of 1993, I saw a movie in the theater that was probably one of the first of many to give me a false sense of everything a romance should be. (Thanks a lot, Hollywood.) It tells the story of a man whose wife has just passed away and about how he finds love again with the help of his son, a radio show, and, well, fate. The film takes place partly in a famous city in the Pacific Northwest whose name appears in the title, and the man, who apparently seems to have a lot of sleepless nights, lives in a floating house that has a view just like this:

Ever since I saw above-mentioned film, I've been a little fascinated by--or shall I say obsessed with?--this city. I've always associated this place with love, dreams, happiness, romance--I'm such a sap! And maybe since it's known to rain a whole bunch here, I've also always had a thing for rain--standing in it, walking in it, smelling it.

So I finally went! And this is the view I had each morning as I awoke:

Sadly, it never rained once while I was here. The weather was actually really beautiful every single day. Go figure. Still, I would've liked to see the rain.

The first night, we went to this lovely restaurant in the quaint little town of Langley on Whidbey Island in the middle of Puget Sound. I opted for the roasted free range chicken breast with polenta, braised endive, and rosemary-gorgonzola pan jus. The chicken was fabulously succulent, and the polenta crispy on the outside and perfectly not-too-mushy on the inside. My dinner companions, two people I lovingly refer to as Mom and Dad, shared the steak frites served with sauteed local greens, which were to die for--no kidding! I could have eaten an entire dinner plate of those. The skinny frites were fried to golden perfection; I almost wish I had gotten the steak frites, too. (See website for pics.)

And as it goes, a superb evening meal must be followed by a lazy evening stroll through a tiny tranquil town...

...At sunset.

Ah (that's an ah of contentment)... Almost makes me think that maybe the stuff in the movies isn't far off. For pretty soon after this, I was, myself, Sleepless in Seattle...

Kind of.

Teaser

Guess where I've been...

Nope. Not the Big Apple.

Wrong again. Not back to DC. (Although I wouldn't have complained.)

And no, no, no. Definitely not South Texas.

Need a hint? Okay, but this is a dead giveaway:

Did you miss it? Look again closely...

...And pull up a seat. There's more to come. And yes, there will be food.

...And we're back! (or I love this town!)

Have you ever visited a brand new place and felt as if you were at home, or at least in a very familiar place--sort of like deja vu, except you know you've never been there before, even in another life, and you wonder why it took you so long to finally get to that place?

Well, having traveled to remote areas of the Far East and the tiniest villages in the Old World, I find it absolutely astonishing that it's taken me more than thirty years to get to my nation's capital.

When views like this are everywhere you turn. Views that even George and Martha enjoyed.

And where you can take pictures from way up high like this FOR FREE.

And where you can get this close to where the President lives.

And then you can literally walk down the street to a farmer's market in the middle of the week at the end of the workday (or after a long day of exploring FREE museums and monuments and beautifully clean streets where you don't feel afraid to walk) and buy this delicious and refreshing organic drinkable yogurt with honey made from the milk of grass-fed cows and with probiotic and live cultures from Clear Spring Creamery.

And nibble on these cute little mildly spicy beef and chicken empanadas from Chris' Marketplace (apparently known for their amazing jumbo lump crabcakes).

And then top it all off with this incredibly craveable pastry filled with a layer of chocolaty goodness and a dollop of luscious, velvety pistachio cream. Oh my, oh my.

Then, of course, you've got to grab a couple of these scrumptious cookies (namely, lemon drop, lemon ginger, and double chocolate) from Praline Bakery (same place where the pistachio chocolate pastry can be found) to mischievously nosh on after midnight (without feeling guilty, of course, because, hey, they're from the FRESHFARM Market, by the White House!).

What a magnificent town.

What a magnificent country.

I'm proud to call it mine.

Hold on...

...just a little bit longer. I haven't forgotten about you.

Moved

Hello, everyone...if there is anyone out there reading this. I just wanted to let you all know that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I've been in the time-consuming process of moving. I've missed blogging and can't wait to get back to it. So, please stay tuned!

Simple and fresh

I recently went to a wonderful cooking demonstration at Central Market taught by Virginia Willis, a lovely French-trained chef from the South who is also a culinary television producer. The title of the demonstration was "The Flavors of Fresh Herbs," and it was absolutely delightful in that it tantalized every one of my senses. Luckily, I got to partake of all the food Virginia prepared using lots and lots of fresh herbs, and, oh!, what a party in my mouth! Virginia says she mostly uses fresh herbs in all her cooking, and now I am a firm believer that fresh herbs make all the difference.

Take these potatoes, for example. Regular, old little red potatoes. But stick a fresh bay leaf or two inside and roast them for a while and you've got the most perfect little almost sweet-scented potatoes ever. I never knew what bay leaves really tasted like until I stuck these in the oven only to find the smell of bay permeating the rest of my little apartment.

Before:

Think those leaves in the jar can do that??? Virginia noted that "even a semi-fresh bay leaf several weeks old from the fridge will have more flavor" than those "brown, tasteless dried bay leaves" you've had sitting in your spice cabinet for--what, 3 or 4 years now? Duh! How can they be good?!

After:

(Imagine: the smell of bright little bay leaves wafting through your house...)

Indeed, I have learned my lesson well. Make no mistake about it: fresh is ALWAYS best. Just try and see for yourself.

Bay Roasted Potatoes

Adapted from a recipe by Virginia Willis from Bon Appetit, Y'all

8 medium red-skinned or Yukon gold potatoes (or double that number if you're using small ones like I did)

16 to 20 fresh bay leaves (again, double the number if using small potatoes)

1/2 cup olive oil

kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

sea salt, for finishing

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Using a sharp knife, thinly slice each potato, stopping each cut 1/4 of an inch from the bottom, so the potato is sliced, but still intact. Insert 1 to 2 bay leaves into each potato.

Place the potatoes in a large roasting pan. Drizzle oil over the potatoes and toss to coat. Season the potatoes with kosher salt and pepper.

Roast the potatoes until tender when pierced with the point of a knife, about 1 hour. Season with sea salt and additional freshly ground black pepper. Serve hot.

Serves 4 to 6.

After the feast

The worst part about having a party? No, it's not all the dirty dishes in the sink that you're going to put off until later in the week when you're finally feeling up to it. No, no, I think it's the quiet after the storm. You know, when everybody leaves and you realize that the room is no longer buzzing with delightful chatter and polite raves about the food. And then you get all depressed wishing your company would've stayed longer.

But then you think to yourself, "I should do this more often," and that all the stressing and fussing was unnecessary. And then you start dreaming of the next time you're going to have a gathering. So you get all excited just thinking about and planning the menu you might put together.

And you realize, once again, that's what it's all about. That's what's most important. The people and the chatting and the memories and the sharing and the laughs. So you have stuff to talk about later. Which keeps you connected to the people in your life.

And yes, of course, the food is important, too. I'll be the first one to tell you that. Good food is important. It gives you something to talk about, especially when it's interesting and fresh and new. And it makes you feel joy. It makes you happy because it nourishes you, both physically and emotionally. We're really lucky that something God meant for us to do every day is also something that can be pleasurable, amusing, and fun, too.

Today I cooked up a couple of new dishes for my friends. I'll share one of the recipes with you today and save the rest for later. It's an easy one, and appropriate for an Easter feast or for any time of year, especially suited for the Easter bunnies in your life. And it won't stress you out, promise. It's a snap: Honey glazed carrots. Deliciously sticky and buttery and slightly sweet. EnJOY! And Happy Easter, too.

Honey Glazed Carrots

Adapted from a recipe by Sunny Anderson from Cooking for Real

kosher salt

1 pound baby carrots

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons honey

1 tablespoon lemon juice

freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, for garnish

In a medium saucepan, bring water to a boil. Salt the water, and then add the carrots. Cook until tender, about 5 to 6 minutes (pulling one out and eating it, or stabbing one with a fork is a good test). Drain the carrots and return to pan over medium heat. Add butter, honey and lemon juice and stir to combine, making sure to coat all the carrots. Cook about 5 minutes, until a glaze forms over the carrots. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Garnish with parsley. Serve hot or warm.