Pickling Phobias + Fender Benders

Pickling intimidates me. I'm fearful that I'll screw it up and be forever linked to a botulism epidemic ala Typhoid Mary. Except I'd be Botulism Erica. But with last weekend's Farm and Fleet purchase (jar grabber, pint and quart jars, and a few other tools), I will conquer my fear. As god is my witness, I shall never be pickle-less again. :) I've enlisted a few friends, and we might try beets and dilly beans next weekend.

And now a small recap of last weekend: On Friday night, I attended a Cock Party at the Inferno. We knew one of the four bands (The Type), so we went to see them perform. There was also an art show gravitating around....you guessed it, male genitalia. The reasoning behind the show was that male erotic parts are generally ignored in art. Well, that may be the case (with some notable exceptions such as Mapplethorpe and Michelangelo), but it's also true that you could throw a stone and hit a guy who'd be more than happy to regale you with a description of his junk.

On Saturday morning, I went to Macy's to get a bachelorette party gift. As I was waiting behind a parked SUV for another car to leave, the SUV proceeded to back right into my passenger-side door. The driver was very nice about it, though. He first asked if I was alright and then apologized, saying he's not used to driving his wife's car. He was using the camera viewer thingy to back up, but apparently something wasn't functioning correctly. "It usually beeps," he said. I didn't ask why he didn't also look in the rearview mirror. He gave me his insurance and contact info., and I've already filed a claim. So not a big deal, although I must admit that I was shaken up for awhile that day.

Purple Things That Are Way Cooler Than Barney

Howdy. I just got out of the shower after watching episode 1 of season 2 of True Blood. I love it when a shockingly gruesome scene ending an episode is immediately followed by incongruent music. In this case, a horrible murder scene transferred over into a perky country song.

Last Thursday night, I made purple carrots braised in a red wine sauce with garlic mashed potatoes and black beluga lentils with spinach and garlic scapes. As many of you already know (I've been yapping about it ever since ;)), it was a divine version of a bastardized, separated shepherd's pie. And they said I couldn't cook comfort food!

Garlic mashed potatoes are simple. I use butter and soymilk or real dairy of some sort if I have it on hand. For the lentils, just cover them with a bit of water and add some vegetable or chicken broth for flavor. I don't measure or time it. You just do it a few times until you've gotten the hang of it, and it depends if you like your lentils a little soupy or not. The carrots were braised in a sauce of onions, garlic, mushrooms (recipe called for porcini, but I used shiitake because it's what I had), red wine, rosemary, thyme, a smidge of flour, and a dash of tamari. You could also add tomato paste to thicken it. There's a great recipe for it in Deborah Madison's Local Flavors: Cooking and Eating from America's Farmers' Markets.)

Asparagus Tart + Chocolate Beet Cake

On Sunday, I made an asparagus tart and a chocolate beet cake. Let's attack the tart first. Since the Willy St. Co-op didn't have ricotta salata or creme fraiche (damn you, keyboard; I want a circonflexe and an accent aigu), I had to employ some creative substitutions. Thinking ricotta salata was similar to ricotta, I grabbed a tub of it, and in lieu of the creme fraiche, I snagged half and half. I wanted to get the tart started, so I didn't look up the definitions of ricotta salata and creme fraiche (I'd never used either in my cooking) in my food dictionary until after the tart was in the oven. Alas, I am woefully ignorant about these two ingredients apparently because half and half is a far cry from creme fraiche and ricotta salata is an entirely different animal from  ricotta. I was beginning to suspect it wouldn't set well, and when I took the tart out of the oven, my fears were confirmed. I managed to salvage it by beating two eggs and baking them on top of the tart. It turned out pretty well, but next time I'll abide by the recipe. Oh, and my wrists have forbidden me to type up the longish recipe for the tart, so if you want it, let me know.

The chocolate beet cake was less successful in my mind. A colleague graciously said it tasted "earthy," not "like dirt," which is how I'd described it. (A.H., I stole that descriptor from your take on spring mix.) If there's another bunch of beets in this week's CSA share, I'm going to either pickle them or roast them and make a salad with goat cheese or shaved Parmesan, arugula, and maybe some balsamic vinegar. Beets might be one of those things that, for me, are best served in a more traditional mode. (Never fear, though. I shan't become traditional anytime soon; I've been called eccentric or quirky so many times that I probably couldn't become traditional if I tried.) The cake wasn't my favorite, but it might appeal to other palates, so here's the recipe (from MADSAC's From Asparagus to Zucchini: A Guide to Cooking Farm-Fresh, Seasonal Produce):

• 2 cups sugar
• 2 cups flour
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 3-4 oz. unsweetened chocolate
• 4 eggs
• 1/4 c. oil
• 3 c. shredded beets

Heat oven to 325. Grease 2 9-inch cake pans. Whisk dry ingredients together. Melt chocolate very slowly over low heat or in a double boiler. Cool chocolate; blend thoroughly with eggs and oil. Combine flour mixture with chocolate mixture, alternating with the beets. Pour into pans. Bake until fork can be removed from center cleanly, 40-50 mins.

Skechers

I have a new pair of Skechers Shape-Ups, and I love them. They do nothing to downplay my skinny chicken legs, but since I won't be developing the gams of Serena Williams anytime soon, I'm just gotta deal with it. They're uber-cushy, which is heavenly for those with flat feet. I probably won't attend any workout classes in them for fear of people thinking I'd downed an array of cocktails prior to class, but I'll wear them for walking and on the elliptical or the bike at the gym. It's really the standing still that is problematic because you're constantly trying to correct for the fact that you are somewhat imbalanced by the rocking of the shoe. For instance, while I was waiting for the light at a curb the other day, a stiff wind kicked up, further messing with my already precarious balance. So I pretended that I had a sudden urge to step and turn to look at something over to the left. Otherwise, I imagine I would've looked like I was doing a mini line-dancing routine.

Blogger just erased a lengthy post about the asparagus tart and chocolate beet cake I made last night. Grr. And it's now past my bedtime, so you'll have to wait for me to re-create that post tomorrow.

Bon nuit, dear readers (all 3 of you ;)).

Yin Yoga + Grilled Cheese

Tonight, I had my second yin yoga class, and I think I'm hooked. I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to deeply stretch their fascia and thoroughly relax.

Upon arriving home, my nose met with the intoxicating smell of grilled cheese. Following my roommate's lead, I made a delectable version with pepper-crusted parmesan cheese and green peppers (from my CSA share) on sprouted wheat bread. It gave me the opportunity to use my brand-spankin'-new panini press (thank you, T.J. Maxx), and cut into four tiny little triangles, it provided a satisfying, but light late-night dinner. I would provide a photo, but the camera's broken, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Reasons Why I'm Not Allowed to Drink Espresso Often

I got back into town last Saturday. After enduring the red-eye flight, I was greeted by a pretty sunrise and a rainbow in Minneapolis. Thanks to B. for picking me up at the airport.

This week, I was tired. Just plain tired. I guess I'm still realigning my sleep patterns because I only got about 4-6 hours of sleep each night. On Wednesday, in an espresso-fueled haze, I noticed a full-sized phone book living on the roof outside my office window. It was rain-bloated, forlorn, and splayed open, its pages fluttering in the breeze. How did it get there? Did some inebriated person launch it up there?* Was someone having a privately perusing the White Pages on my rooftop? Was it abandoned by a family of phone books who couldn't afford to raise it? Poor, poor cast-off phone book. The next day, a beer bottle had been added to the rooftop, and my friend S. said it looked like an art installation. I'll keep you guys posted about the opening night for our little installation. :)

*I admit that this is the most likely explanation, although even when drunk, it has never occurred to me to propel a big-ass phone book onto a local office building.

Yoga al Fresco, Flashlight Tour at DBG, Lola's, the Suns, Bats, and Postino

Today for my last lunch in Phoenix, we tried the Blue Nile Cafe, which is an Ethiopian restaurant in Tempe. I had the kik alitcha, kik misir watt, and inguday over injera, and M. had the meat lover's combo. Afterward, we trolled around Sunset Clothing Exchange and Buffalo Exchange for a little shopping. The latter has a great program: In exchange for not taking a bag for your purchase, you can donate five cents to different causes.

Last night, I went to a free outdoor yoga class in Old Town. The class was a marvelous workout and great stress (you know, all of that dreadful vacation stress ;)) reliever. The 1.25- to 1.5-hour asana was followed by a luxurious half-hour of savasana, and afterward, there were treats (little bites and roasted apricot sorbet) from Crudo. We ended the night with sushi at Kyoto.

On Tuesday night, we went to Postino for bruschetta and wine. On Monday and Tuesday nights, you can get four different kinds of bruschetta and a bottle of wine for $20. We had the brie and apples with fig spread, prosciutto with figs and mascarpone, warm artichoke spread, and albacore tuna with gaeta olives and a bottle of Damilano Nebbiolo.

On Wednesday night, we watched a bat colony that roosts in a tunnel at 40th and Camelback leave for their evening insect hunt. Just after sunset, several thousand Mexican free-tailed bats and western pipistrelle bats emerged. Although not as dramatic as I'd expected (I imaged an Indian Jones-style blanket of screeching bats), it was cool to see their wacky, erratic flight patterns. (I suppose that's a result of echolocation.)

Last week, we did a flashlight tour at the Desert Botanical Gardens. We'd been to the DBG before, but never at night. Stations throughout the garden taught us about tarantulas and scorpions, snakes, mesquite, geckos and lizards, saguaro, frogs and toads, agave, birds and bats, and tortoises. Afterward, we met K. + J. for tapas (house marinated olives, tortilla de patatas, garbanzos con espinacas a la Andaluza, and the paella of the day), delicious sangria, and tres leches cake at Lola's.

What else? On Saturday, we went to a barbeque at F. + S.'s house and then onto R.'s house to watch the Suns game (or, in our case, to pretend to watch the Sun's game). Most people left after the game was over, but the few of us remaining played Trivial Pursuit.

On Sunday, we saw Metalhead play at Martini Ranch. Normally, this is a hoot, but the holiday weekend made it way too crowded. It was like being repeatedly mauled for 2 hours. And on Monday, people came over to hang out by the pool and shove food in their faces. (Holiday weekend!)

Okay, enough sitting in front of the computer. It's my last day here, so I'm going to enjoy the pool for a bit before we go to the First Friday Art Walk tonight.

Sedona and Drive-in Movie

Last Sunday, we loaded up the rental car with snacks, a thermos of coffee, lots of water, blankets, wine, and sunscreen and set out for Sedona.

On the way, we spontaneously stopped at Montezuma Castle, which is the ruin of a pueblo built by the Southern Sinagua (Spanish for without water) people. The Southern Sinagua inhabited the Verde Valley from about 700 AD to the early 1400s and were skilled farmers. Situated in a cliff recess 100 feet above the valley, the original pueblo was five stories tall and consisted of 20 rooms. Early settlers who thought the ruin was of Aztec origin mistakenly assigned the name Montezuma to it.

In Sedona, we hiked the Boynton Canyon Trail in the Coconino National Forest and the Red Rock Ranger District. The trail was mild, which I appreciated because the backs of my knees and legs are still injured. Parts of the trail were positively beach-like with thick white sand, and I was amazed at the extent of the forest.

Afterward, we had a snack at the Enchantment Resort's Tii Gavo restaurant. The restaurant has a stunning view, and the prickly pear mojito was marvy, but the cactus fries resembled mushy green peppers. The cornmeal crust offset the texture somewhat, but they were still rather bland and greasy.
For dinner at the Heartline Cafe, we shared pecan-crusted trout with grain mustard sauce, seared polenta and braised pork with roasted pepper sauce, and quail in a port wine demi-glace.

After dinner, we drove up Airport Road to watch the sunset and then walked around the Tlaquepaque shopping district before getting back on the road.

On Tuesday night, we went to Scottsdale 6, a drive-in movie theater, to see Shrek 3 and How to Train Your Dragon. I'd never been before, so it was a hoot.

Just Deserts?

There's lots to love about Phoenix: funky architecture; geography, flora, and fauna vastly different from the Midwest; a vibrant vibe; marvelous restaurants; great hiking; and tons more. One thing that concerns me, though, are the lawns and the golf courses. Lush, artificial environments requiring lots of maintenance and resources (read: water) should not be plunked in the middle of the desert.

Water has always been a major issue in Phoenix, but massive population growth (one figure said the city has grown 77% since 1980) and a persistent drought over the past two decades has made it even more pertinent. Phoenix receives its water from four sources: the Colorado River (34.5%), surface water (from lakes, streams, and rivers other than the Colorado)(17.2%), groundwater (35.8%), and effluent water (water mixed with waste that can be reused (12.3%). The drought particularly affects the surface water levels. To sustain surface water, the area relies on precipitation. Melted snow from the northern part of the state and rain feed surface water suppliers such as the Salt River and the Verde River.

And where is the water being used? According to the Phoenix Department of Water, the majority of usage is not for drinking. Instead, 2/3 of water is used for residential purposes, including landscape irrigation, and more than 60% of Phoenix' overall demand is for outdoor water uses, mainly landscape irrigation.

Doesn't xeriscaping make more sense? Xeriscaping is a portmanteau of xeros (Greek for dry) and landscaping. It's defined as utilizing plants that require less water, especially in arid ecosystems. Here, that means rocks and sand as filler instead of grass and plants like yucca, cacti, agave, and a host of others.

Why do people insist on having grassy golf courses and green lawns? My guess is status. As in temperate climes, a manicured lawn is a marker of status among certain groups. And using an inordinate amount of resources is also a way that many groups express social dominance.

Read It and Weep

I've landed in Phoenix and am settling into the desert sun and heat, and the relative languor of vacation. This morning, I picked oranges, grapefruits, and lemons from the backyard and did my physical therapy exercises and some strength work on my legs and abs.

I've spent most of the rest of the day reading Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief outside (in the shade, of course) and consuming massive quantities of sun tea and water. Riordan's book is an entertaining young adult read that postulates that titans, gods, and demigods walk among us in the contemporary world.

After the pool cools down (we washed and removed the insulating cover a bit ago), I'll take a swim.

Let's see. What else? Last night we went to RA, a sushi joint up the street, for happy hour, played with the Wii (according to which, by the way, I suck at most physical tasks :)), and watched a movie.

I also wanted to mentioned the book I read right before this one. It's called The Help by Kathryn Stockett, and I was so enthralled that I burned through it in about four days. It's set in 1962 Jackson, Mississippi and is told through the voice of two African-American maids and one white woman. The white woman is writing a book about the maids' experiences, which was a dangerous and subversive act during this volatile period. Read it and weep, literally. It will make you cry, it will make you laugh, and above all, it will make you think.

Happy Cinco de Mayo + The Green Owl Cafe

Happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone! I did nothing to celebrate. Not a damn thing. But I don't think I've ever celebrated Cinco de Mayo. Maybe next year.

Last Saturday was the state event for history day, so I spent a chunk of my day asking kidbots about their historical research process and such. It was a good day, but I was tuckered out by the end of it.

The night before, L. and I went to dinner at The Green Owl Cafe, which is a funky, newish vegetarian restaurant at Schenk's Corners. I had the barbequed jackfruit* sandwich with kale crisps, and L. had the Middle Eastern platter with hummus, muhammara, and baba ganoush served with toasted pita wedges, olives, and pickled vegetables. The jackfruit sandwich is their take on a pulled pork sandwich and was surprisingly successful. I must admit that I was a little skeptical about jackfruit. I'd never had it before, and the notion of a fruit even approaching the texture and taste of pork seemed doubtful. I mean, it didn't taste like pork, but it was a satisfying substitute, and the vegan slaw on top of the sandwich was a delicious contrast. Oh, and the kale crisps rocked, too. L. was also pleased with her platter. After dinner, we shared a slice of spectacular lemon-poppyseed cake. I'm a lemon-poppyseed fan to begin with, but this defied expectations. The cake itself had the consistency of a delicious pound cake, and the glaze was citrusy and rich. We were both quietly moaning at our table, and the cake vanished way too rapidly.

Afterward, we saw Broom Street Theater's production of Multiple O: Women on Top, for which I wrote a review for the Isthmus (http://bit.ly/dpO5io).

*I was curious about jackfruit, so I looked it up. Here are a few highlights:
     -species of tree in the mulberry family
     -national fruit of Bangladesh
     -native to southern and southeast Asia
    -its fruit is largest tree-borne fruit in world
    -fruit can reach up to 80 lbs. in weight