Big Plans

This is always a big week for us: Valentine's Day, our birthdays, then this year throw in the Chinese New Year, Mardi Gras, and the beginning of Lent. There is epic culinary potential in it, and generally I plan out this corridor to staged perfection. However, this year, given several factors, planning consisted of more ad hoc arrangements. My dumplings were a day late for the New Year, Mardi Gras was celebrated over Claire's gumbo a couple days before the holiday, and I had no idea what to make on the morning of Valentine's Day.

Drawing on inspiration from a comment Peter made earlier in the week about wanting to take a beer tour of Belgium, I ended up creating a scenic, savory journey through Belgium on Thursday. I knew we weren't going to be able to fit international travel into our 2013 agenda, so I brought it to our dining room table instead.

The thing is, my spontaneity didn't ruin a thing. In fact, I think the meals tasted a little better, the conversation was more lively, and based on the success of the fried cod last night, we just might open up our own Western Suburban fish fry during Lent.  

It made me start to think about planning and the over and under of it. When I was young, it happened the week, maybe even the day of. Sure, there were certain things etched on the calendar - black out dates per se: birthdays, holidays, dance recitals, family vacations. But besides that, I had a wide open agenda; so did everyone else.

What was in store for the weekend was the topic of conversation late in the day on Thursday and the destination of Friday's sleepover might not be decided till the morning of. Menus, games, outfits, prank call lists, bedtimes (to my dismay) were flexible and fluid up until the hours that they were executed. No one stressed. No one cared. All that mattered was the guarantee of a good time in the decisions that were made. 

However, somewhere in between my first wedding season and the arrival of the first baby to my inner circle, planning became essential and extensive. This year in particular, some sort of subliminal memo went out, prompting everyone to get out their calendars and start blocking off dates, early. Within the first week of the year, a good third of my agenda was already chiseled in: weddings, work events, vacations, reunions, races, and of course the big birth date were entered into Outlook.

I capped it there though and ceased making arrangements. Mostly, because 2/3 of my little family couldn't commit at this time. The very idea of calendar-marking makes my husband cringe; he still prefers the week-of plan. And the little lady, who everyone keeps telling me will change my life, might have a totally different set of plans come March 6.

While growing up, I loved the thrill of the question mark attached to every weekend, and today, I love the spontaneity which Peter wants in our life, there is something very different about then and now. Sure, there's the fact that you are an adult - and you have a little one on the way - and you have all these grown-up priorities to balance - blah, blah, blah. But the biggest difference is that your best friends aren't a couple blocks or even the PA turnpike away. They aren't down the hall or across the quad. And you can't just be over in a sec. Instead, they are scattered, hundreds of miles apart - plane tickets, cab rides, hotel rooms away. And to see them at least on a yearly basis, you have to make some big plans. Sure, you can relive the memories of gossiping on the school's heaters, stealing erasers, jumping on the trampoline, watching romantic comedies, going stag to dances, Boat Clubbing, and tailgating on the phone or even over emails. But to make new memories, you have to be together.  

In thinking about this, I've been anxious to book tickets to New York, Boston, San Diego, Seattle, Denver, North Carolina, and DC - to lock in spending quality time with my girl friends who I miss so much. But plan-making is no longer just about me. And something tells me that under-planning this spring and summer, might just work better for Mary.

Like this week though, I believe there is a lot of potential in the last minute arrangement that in our household always seems to translate into the best kind of fun.  Now to plan my play-it-by-ear birthday ... GO!

Lo.

Frisee Salad with Poached Eggs
Serves 2  

Ingredients

Mixture of Frisee, Radicchio, and sweeter green lettuces
Green beans 
Two eggs
Honey vinaigrette (recipe below)

Honey Vinaigrette
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons champagne vinegar
1/2 teaspoon diced shallot
Sprinkle of diced thyme 
1/2 teaspoon tarragon, chopped  
1 teaspoon honey
Salt, pepper

Directions: 
Blanche the green beans and let cool. In a medium bowl, combine lettuces and green beans. In a small bowl, mix together dressing ingredients. Toss over the salad mixture and divide onto two plates.

Poach the eggs, Peter style: In a medium pot, bring water to a boil. Reduce heat, so not at a rolling boil anymore. Using a spoon swirl water, so its churning around the pot. Let it slow to a gently swirl. Crack one egg into a very small bowl and gently release the egg into the water. It should sink to the bottom and the water's motion should keep it together in a beautiful rounded form with the white on the outside, and the yellow on the inside. Cook for 3-4 minutes, remove and repeat the process with the other egg. Serve warm over the salad.

A Winter Pairing

Last week, winter finally came to Naperville. We had been experiencing global warming's version of the season throughout December and even into January, but finally, just as the 'we all need a snow day from work,' mentality set it, it snowed. And snowed. Over the past ten days or so, we've had a little bit more than a foot of the white stuff, and Naperville has officially turned into a winter wonderland. The sledders and skaters have returned to their frozen playgrounds. My running routes have become a little more challenging. The bundling up has reached the three and four layer mark. And finally, FINALLY, the geese that I so love to hate, have started to fly South.

Besides the snow, ice and lengthy commutes, there are other signs of winter being in full effect. Peter's dopplebock - the one that we brewed back in the early fall - finished its final fermentation, was carbonated, and then tapped. It's a rich, dark beer, with an almost Scotch-like after taste. And it's amazing - my favorite I think - the perfect antidote for the frigid temperatures.  

The food being produced in our retro kitchen has gone from holiday comfy to completely insulating. Seemingly, I'm in the mood to make and eat something that doesn't just stick to your ribs, but to your hips and thighs every evening. 

And the silence and solitude that tends to settle over the world during a snow storm or during the coldest, dreariest days of winter has arrived. It's the time of year when everyone, including us, has set up camp in their living room, saying, 'I'll see you in the Spring.'

Throughout these winter months it's helpful to have friends and family around to combat the quiet. B.P. (before Peter), when I lived alone in a small South Side apartment and the winters seemed particularly lonely, I would often walk down the street to my sister's apartment to watch a movie with her, or cross the Birmingham Bridge to have dinner with my parents, or snuggle up next to the fire at Soba, equipped with a French Martini and my best friends to fend off the cold. The buddy system helped, but there were still nights when the winter seemed particularly depressing.  

This year I have a roommate again. And more than that, I have family, a best friend, and a bartender in house. And I feel like I'm part of a perfect winter pairing. It took a while to find, and it took some failed attempts. But in the end, just as the Dopplebock made it through several mismatches and finally found the perfect pairing in a plate of Moules et Frites last night, I found mine in Peter. Et il sera merveilleux et chaleur.

Lo. 

La Recette. 
Moules
1 1/2 pounds mussels
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large shallot minced
3 cloves garlic minced
1/2 cup shaved fennel
Sprig of thyme
2 1/2 cups dry white wine
Salt, pepper

In large soup pot, melt butter with olive oil. Add shallot, garlic and fennel and saute for three minutes. Add white wine, lemon juice and thyme. Bring to a boil and cook for 5-7 minutes until liquid is slightly reduced. Add mussels and steam for 3-5 minutes or until the shells open. Discard any mussels whose shells have not opened. Serve with crusty bread.

Et Frites
2 Russet Potatoes
Oil
Salt

Heat three to four inches of oil in Dutch Oven. Slice potatoes into french fry shaped slices. Working in batches, fry for 7-10 minutes or until golden brown in oil. Set on paper towel to drain. Salt. Serve immediately.