On Being Thankful

Without getting too carried away, I'd like to share with you a few (ok, a lot) of the things I'm feeling particularly grateful for right now. It's been a fortunate year for me in many ways, and my happiest moments have all been accompanied by some good taste, or smell, or both.

So in no particular order, here we go:

- My mother, for her faith, love, and impossibly perfect pie crust
- My dad, for his love of life, food, and literature
- My siblings (plus John, Emily, Justine, and Kristen), for their friendship, solidarity, brilliant senses of humor, and all-around excellence
- My extended family, because it's huge and fun and full of great stories
- My best friends, who I laugh with every day, and who supply me with so much excellent material, I'll always have something to write about
- My boyfriend, who beyond being just a wonderful human being, is also a fantastic cook and has taught me more about food--and life--than he even knows
- My job, which is so much fun because of certain colleagues. You know who you are!
- My laptop, of course
- David Chang, for his pork buns
- Mario Batali, for Otto
- David Barron, for taking me to Otto and for being so gorgeous on the inside
- My nephew, niece, and soon-to-be second nephew, because they have made these last two years full of new life, little smiles, tiny kisses, and hope
- My readers!
- New York, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Virginia, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Oregon, DC, Maryland, Vermont, Florida, and France, because that's where many of my favorite things are found

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Eat well, and savor everything.

Restaurant Wednesday: French Bistro Edition

For a girl who loves France so much, I sure have been writing a lot about Italy lately. I think clearly it's time for another trip to Paris...or Burgundy for oeufs en meurette. The problem is, Christmas is coming and I must save some money. I'm sure I'll go back to France eventually (I always do), but in the meantime, I can at least trick my taste buds into thinking they're there, when really I'm just having a fantastic meal at West End Bistro in Washington, DC.

Located inside the Ritz-Carlton, this restaurant is the least hotel-y feeling one I believe I've ever encountered. It's at once sleek and cozy, with big booths and low lights. Naturally, the service is flawless and the scene is sophisticated. But it's what comes out of the kitchen that interests me most. I've eaten at West End Bistro twice now--once for dinner on my birthday and another time for a special lunch--and on both occasions I left feeling like Paris had just whispered in my ear.

Chef Eric Ripert, who also owns the famed Le Bernardin in New York, is one of my heroes. First of all, he's a nice person. This is evident in his new cooking show, "Avec Eric," which airs on PBS. And second, he's a culinary master. There is simply no other way to state it. Try the tuna carpaccio with lemon and chives at West End Bistro, and then try to disagree with me. Or order the pristine skate with brown butter sauce, and do your best not to weep when it's gone. If you don't fancy fish, you might consider braised short ribs. It's a decadent dish, but it won't ruin the rest of your day, stomach-wise, the way that a lesser version would. The meat is luscious, the mashed potatoes rich, and the glossy sauce totally absent of grease. I love it.

Much of the food at West End is generally not light, but portions are properly sized. So while plates and bowls may not be overflowing, it is for this reason that I love Ripert's food, and why it reminds me so much of France. Plenty of butter, absolutely fresh ingredients, and no small measure of attention to detail. In other words, c'est formidable.

The Chicken Liver Challenge of Thanksgiving 2009

When invited to Thanksgiving dinner at another person's home, most will offer a contribution to the meal. A bottle of wine, perhaps. Or extra cranberry sauce or maybe even pie. Me? I volunteer to bring chicken liver crostinis. Yep.

What was I thinking? I'm not exactly sure. All I can tell you is that I've eaten these toasted bread rounds spread with chicken liver pate in Tuscany and well, you know how I feel about that place! But I've never even thought about making them, so when I discussed the conundrum with my Jewish boyfriend, he suggested we turn to the recipes of Joan Nathan or his own grandmother for help. But the days are ticking by, my friends, and as I type this early Tuesday morning, I'm still without a solid plan, yet my family is talking about this the way they talk about my mother's chocolate chip cookies. In other words, they're excited.

So, I'm turning to you. I am positive that some of you have experience with turning chicken livers into mouth-watering, spreadable goodness. Please! Send me your recipes, tips, and suggestions, and I will love you forever and possibly buy you a Christmas present.

Where There's a Mill, There's a Way

I'm a girl who grew up thinking chicken hearts were a totally normal afternoon snack and that fall is when your dad chops wood and your mom makes applesauce with the food mill. It wasn't until college that I fully understood--and appreciated--the beauty in all of this. Of course, college was also when I didn't get a "Jack and Chrissy" reference and my friends howled with laughter and I realized just how little television I was allowed to watch as a kid.

But let's get back to my mother and her applesauce. She made it all the time for us, and it was just the most wonderful thing. Warm, sweet, and pink. The smell of apples cooking in the kitchen on a cold fall day must be one of the best in the world. I liked everything about my mother's applesauce, including helping her make it. I'd stand on a chair in front of the sink and crank the food mill, mesmerized by the fruit swirling round and round.

I'm not sure how many people make their own applesauce these days, or if anybody even has a food mill in the kitchen anymore. But I do, and so the other day I called my mom and asked her for her recipe. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: So, how do you make applesauce?
Her: Do you have a food mill? Ellen (my sister) doesn't, so I told her to use a potato masher. But you really need a food mill.
Me: I have one.
Her: Good. So first you cook some apples in a pot on the stove, but don't use too much water.
Me: Um, wait, "too much?"
Her: Right. Just enough. You know, the way you'd do potatoes, Cath.
Me: Hm. Ok, so, like enough water to cover?
Her: Yes, and then cook them until they're soft, but not too soft.
Me: Huh. What kind of apples?
Her: Macintosh
Me: Why?
Her: Because that's what my mother used.
Me: OK. Then you run them through the food mill, and...
Her: Yes, and put the skins in, too, because you want the applesauce to be pink. Remember?
Me: Yes. I remember. And what about the sugar?
Her: Oh, just enough so it tastes right, honey. Not too sweet, though.
Me: But, like, how much would that be?
Her: It depends. Just put some in and then taste it. You always have to taste it so you know it's right.
Me: Sigh

My mother's recipes are the best. If you try this one, email me or drop a note in the comments. In honor of her, I'll be making applesauce all through the fall, trying to get the measurements right and hoping that someday I'll have a daughter who appreciates food made with love, and with a mill. I love you, Mom!