Flying solo

The husband is traveling on business this week, leaving me to my own devices. Cooking isn't quite as interesting for one person, it turns out. So I've been eating strange dinners.

The first night, I ate some leftover roast chicken, along with the last piece of Paradise Pizza from over the weekend, and a scruffy little salad made up of some borderline butter lettuce and a questionable carrot. What's up with that?

Then, last night, I made chicken salad. Now you know I love chicken salad, but it's generally more of a lunch thing for me. But last night I mixed it up and put it on toast. Unfortunately, the bread fell apart and so I chucked the toast altogether and just dumped the salad in a bowl and ate it like that. With some tortilla chips on the side. And two glasses of wine. And my last Valentine chocolate.

I also have to mention that on top of missing the husband, work has been crummy this week. I try to keep work out of this blog because who wants to read about someone else's job? But, today was a little traumatic. The place I work is going to undergo some major changes immediately and my job may not remain intact. Even if it remains intact, I'm not sure I'd want to work there anymore.

So, while still technically employed for the short-term, I need to find a new job ASAP.

On the one hand, it's not good to have to look for another job. I've only been there a year and a half, and I wasn't planning on leaving yet.

On the other hand, it might be time for a change. Maybe a new career, and possibly a new place. I think the three of us would be very happy in Los Angeles. I'm picturing a little bungalow in Venice Beach or a garden apartment in Santa Monica. I wouldn't mind trading the hills and fog for flat streets and year-round sunshine, at least for awhile.

I ran the idea by Frances as I put my dinner together tonight. She seemed to be listening intently to every word, or maybe she was just staring at my piece of fish.

Pan-roasted salmon with arugula, radish, and mango salad. Doesn't that look sunny?

Making dinner put me in a slightly better mood. I put on some music while I cooked and shared some mango with Frances, who found it to her liking. Instead of feeling bad, I started to feel a little bit excited.  I wonder what the future will hold.

Spring is in the air

Today was 65 degrees and sunny. All of a sudden, the dim, slanted light of winter has softened to the broad, embracing light of spring. The grass up on Tank Hill near our house is bright green and sweet from all the recent rain, and at any given time you'll see little herds of dogs (including Frances) standing around and chewing it like baby cows. People are wearing shorts and flipflops.

Now, before anyone who lives somewhere where it's season-appropriately cold gets upset, keep in mind that we get no summer. From June through August, San Francisco is cold and foggy. When people all over the country are getting suntans and cooling off at the local pool, we're wearing wool sweaters and down vests, turning up the heat, and soothing chapped lips against the wind. When you're grilling burgers in July, I'm making beef stew. Instead of a normal summer, we get odd little heat waves throughout the year. Usually one comes in February, and this year is no different.

With the advent of spring in mind, last night I made a pasta I've made many times before, one I've adapted to my own tastes. For one thing, I rarely have white wine around, so I always use red. For another, the recipe calls for artichoke hearts. The first few times, that's what I used, too. But then it hit me, after decades of eating artichoke hearts: I don't really like them very much. They're often kind of tangy and fibrous and not nearly as great as I always think they're going to be. I don't know why it took me 36 years to come to this realization. I guess I'm a slow learner.

I now substitute peas for the artichokes, which add sweetness and take less time to cook. Last night I also noticed too late that I didn't have any chicken broth so I skipped the simmering step altogether. What emerged was a lighter, brighter version of a favorite winter dish: a springier version if you will.

This recipe has a nice balance of saltiness from the sausage, chewiness from the sundried tomatoes, sweetness from the peas, richness from the fresh mozzarella that you fold in at the end, and fresh herbiness from the basil and parsley.

Don't you think the colors are cheerful? They make you want to dive in! Kind of the way spring makes me feel: happy, and full of possibility.

Dulce de leche brownies

Today I'm honored to be part of a special Valentine's Day blogging event, Chocolate Valentines!

Kate over at Serendipity contacted me a few weeks back and asked if I'd like to participate in this fabulous intercontinental event. The idea was for a little crew of us to each make something featuring chocolate and then link back to Kate's blog, who would in turn link to all of ours.  If you're not familiar with Kate's wonderful blog, you're really missing out. She's an American living in Belgium, and her beautiful blog describes her fascinating (and delicious!) life abroad. I couldn't say yes fast enough, especially when she added that she'd be happy to send me some chocolate from her local artisan chocolate maker.

About two weeks later, a little package arrived at my door from Belgium, containing two kinds of chocolate: chocolate for eating (which turned out to be some of the most fabulous chocolate I've ever had) and chocolate for baking. 

I had a few ideas about what to make with this special chocolate and came very close to making enchiladas in mole. But in the end, I chose the dulce du leche brownies from David Lebovitz's great book, The Sweet Life in Paris. I briefly considered making dulce de leche from scratch like Jessica did over at Apples and Butter. But in the end I took the lazy way out.

The brownies turned out highly chocolatey and laced with gooey, molten dulce de leche.

 Let's get a little closer.

I liked these brownies, but they were a tad sweet. The husband felt they were too much, although let it show for the record that he ate a rather large piece without fussing about it until afterward. I would make them again--but they are definitely the kind of brownies that need to be toted along to a picnic or party. No household of two should be consuming an 8-inch pan of these.

Thank you, Kate for organizing this fun event. I can't wait to check out what everyone else did with their Belgian chocolate. And to all of you readers, Happy Valentine's Day!

Dulce de Leche Brownies
From David Lebovitz's The Sweet Life in Paris

8 T. salted or unsalted butter, cut into pieces, plus more for greasing the pan
6 oz. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
1/4 c. unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla extract
1 c. flour
1 c. toasted pecans or walnuts, coarsely chopped, optional (I skipped)
1 c. confiture de lait (dulce de leche)

Preheat oven to 350 and generously grease an 8" square pan and line the bottom with a square of parchment or wax paper.

Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Add chocolate and stir constantly over very low heat until melted. Remove from heat and whisk in cocoa powder until smooth.

Add eggs one at a time, then stir in the sugar, vanilla, and flour (and nuts, if using).

Scrape half of batter into prepared pan. Drop one-third of the dulce de leche in prune-sized dollops, evenly spaced, over the brownie batter, then drag a knife through it to swirl it slightly. Spread the remaining brownie batter over the top, then drop spoonfuls of the remaining dulce de leche over the batter. Use a knife to swirl the dulce de leche ever so slightly. (If you overdo it, the whole thing will bake into a bubbly mess. Just drag a knife once or twice through the batter and leave it at that.)

Bake for 40-45 minutes (mine was done in 40), or until the center feels just slightly firm. Remove from the oven and cool completely. Cut the brownies and wrap individually, then distribute freely.


DL notes that the brownies actually become better the second day, which I found to be true.