Food, Fast and Slow

Last week, I spent 48 hours touring the Fast Food belts of Greenville and Spartanburg, South Carolina. While the small Southern cities are beautiful excerpts of America, quaintly nestled under the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, I spent most of my time getting to know strips of the South that looked a lot like their counterparts up North: landscapes, congested with fuel stations and more quick service food choices than ever.

I was there to scope out my Burger and current project at work. The sandwich, boasting preservative free, fresh toppings is being tested in two regions to find out if it merits national launch next year. On my visit to region #1, I ordered, investigated, tasted, and photographed the Burger dozens of times. I cross referenced a thick corridor of competition. And I watched customers in action - how they ordered, paid, ate, and went on their frenzied way.

Just when I thought I couldn't look at or taste another burger, I found myself calling Peter and asking him to pick up some ground beef at the Elburn Meat Market on his way home. I wanted to try something. I wondered how much better a Burger could taste in slow motion - when I wasn't in a hurry; when the job was done.

Theory confirmed. The best Burger I had all week.

The weekend progressed in a similar manner: I continued studying food, fast and slow, focusing on paced preparation while reflecting on the haste my restaurant group is known for. It was a weekend where I didn't feel the need to hurry. Sure, there was stuff to do - closets to organize, floors to clean, beds to weed, errands to run - but I kept turning a blind eye to my chores. This weekend was about the pool, bike rides, long runs, good books, bubbles, pin wheels, folks, fun, and really good food. 

It all worked because I was serving customers in a similar mindset. They had time, so the food could go as slow as I wanted it.

In contrast, last week I witnessed hundreds of people that had big, hard jobs to do - construction, road work, landscaping, hair styling, nursing, teaching, studying, and parenting. I saw people who had a couple minutes and couple dollars to spare. And I saw them trade in their time and treasure for meals that produced a whole lot of satisfied smiles.

There's no doubt that food tends to taste better on holiday weekends - when life hands you time to spare. But when the weekend ends and America starts its engine again, the nation's workforce can count on the consistent quality, value, speed of service, and perfect French Fries available under the Golden Arches.    

Lo.

Grilled Zucchini Caprese Salad

Ingredients: 
3 medium zucchinis, thinly sliced length wise
Olive oil
Red wine vinegar
Fresh Mozzarella, thinly sliced
Two big leaves of Basil, chopped
Salt, pepper

Directions: 
Drizzle olive oil over zucchini. Season with salt and pepper. Grill over charcoal until tender and starting to char. Let cool.

On a small platter, layer grilled zucchini with mozzarella. Drizzle olive oil and red wine vinegar over the platter. Sprinkle with basil and finish seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.

Dinner for One

As of right .... now ... Peter is wearing a white shirt with a pirate patch emblazoned on his chest, he's off the coast of Martha's Vineyard, and his line is in the Atlantic Ocean, waiting with baited breath to catch the big one. He told me that this is the year they will catch the monster shark. I'm just praying, as I do every year, that Jaws isn't biting.

Peter left for his mancation on Wednesday morning, right after sewing a pirate patch onto his shirt. And I've had the house to myself for the past couple days. There has been ample time to revisit and reconnect with single, apartment dwelling Lo, and while that can turn depressing, I didn't let it. Instead I turned my party of one into something a little more fun.  

On Wednesday night, I went to see the girliest, Peter-would-refuse-to-go, chick-flick out there. I got two tickets for Magic Mike - one for me and one for Claire - and we had an evening of laughs. My review: Channing Tatum looks amazing; the plot is terrible; I'm highly certain that Matthew McConaughey is as in love with himself in real life; I prescribe a two cocktail minimum prior to stepping into the theater and a one drink minimum during the show to keep the buzz going; Sober, the movie wasn't as good. (Meghan, correct me if I'm wrong.)

Last night, I went where few women go. Where honestly, I haven't even gone many times in the past. I made myself a romantic dinner for one, sat down at the head of my big table to eat it, and read a little Olive Twist while I slowly enjoyed the single serving that I had prepared, wanting 'more' when I took the last bite. 

After going to the effort of making dinner, I thought about the alternative. Earlier in the day, I had planned to get a salad from Whole Foods on the way home. I know other singles who similarly would have come home to pour themselves a drink and order take-out. Worse, others would have cozied up in front of the television with a bowl of cereal. But I believe there is no reason why single women or men for that matter shouldn't enjoy homemade, nutritious food. The biggest problem is that there are few if any recipes for one out there. So based on my experimentation last night, I've given you a head start below.

One can be a lonely number, but it should never be bland or unoriginal.

Still missing my hubby, but the arrival of my sister and the commencement of the 2012 family reunion in Quincy, Illinois this evening will make it okay. Spring Lake, here I come!

Lo.

***

Roasted Chicken and Tomatoes (for 1)
Adapted from Bon Appetit



1 Boneless, skinless chicken breast
2 tablespoons olive oil 
4 campari or plum tomatoes (they are about double the size of a cherry tomato and I think they have more flavor)
1 tablespoon herbs de provence
1 teaspoon worchester
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 small shallot minced
Fresh tarragon, basil and Italian parsley chopped
Salt, pepper

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. In a small dutch oven, toss tomatoes, herbs de provence, olive oil, salt and pepper. Heat over medium heat for 3 minutes or so. Cover, move to the oven and let roast at 450 degrees for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, season chicken breast with salt and pepper. Brown in olive oil in a small saute pan about 3 minutes per side. Transfer the chicken from the pan to the dutch oven. Nestle the chicken in the tomatoes and let the chicken continue cooking with the tomatoes until they are done. This should be about 8 more minutes.

Meanwhile, deglaze the small saute pan with the red wine vinegar and worchester sauce. Add the shallots and saute for 3 or 4 minutes, until transparent. Remove from heat.

Remove the chicken and tomatoes from the oven. Remove the chicken from the pot and set aside for a couple minutes. Heat the tomatoes over medium high heat on the stove until the sauce thickens - about 2 minutes. Add the shallots and stir to combine. Cut the chicken, serve over tomatoes, top with herbs.

Let Us Eat Cake

On Friday, Peter and I watched Marie Antoinette. I had told him about it when we were walking through the Tuilleries in Paris a couple weeks ago. "We should definitely watch it when we get back!"  I alluded that it would be able to provide an accurate historical representation of 18th century Paris and would be fun for us to learn from together.

Honestly, this was mostly a selfish act as I had seen it countless times before and knew it was Sofia Coppola's artsy adaptation of the youthful, beautiful, party-going queen. I also knew it was in Peter's terms, "a girl movie." I first saw the film when it came out in theaters in 2006 - a year when the theme and, as Peter put it, "plotless story line," seemed to hit home. When I felt like I was more or less in Marie Antoinette's pointy-toed, courtly shoes leading a life of shopping, dining, and drinking in fancy long gloves (yes, I wore gloves on a couple occasions) with no real goals in sight. As MA said, "it's fun!" And that was the sole explanation I was looking for.

This time around, on Peter's first viewing and my 10th perhaps, I had a different sentiment. I still loved the costumes and the modern music and Jason Schwartzman's awkward portrayal of Louis Auguste and the Swedish captain with the dark eyes who fought valiantly in America. But instead of opening up my own closet after the film, getting dressed, calling my ladies in waiting and Mini Coopering over to SOBA for French martinis a la Rob Hirst, I had a bedtime of 9:30 and alarm clock set to 5:30 to look forward to.

There were no French fetes to attend this weekend, and I found myself more or less among the common masses, incredulously ogling the behavior at Versailles, dismissing any desire to be a part of it, but simultaneously disappointed that we weren't invited. I became one of the people who was supposed to eat cake while Marie Antoinette and the Contesse and the Dukes and Duchesses were partying.

So I did.

The next morning I made and ate old fashioned sour cream cake donuts - recipe courtesy of the one and only and totally amazing Jess Thompson who just published her first cookbook about what else, mmmmmmm, doughnuts. (Rolling pin made by her equally amazing husband Jim.)

And I made some petites madeleines - perfect little French sponge cakes.

And in an effort to make sure no one in this house went hungry and revolted against Naperville's own revelers, the cougars at Jilly's, I went all out last night and made an entire stuffed, roasted chicken, which we will be eating tonight as well.

At which point my mind was really off going to court, because I wouldn't have been able to fit into any of my ruffly dresses.

It was the first weekend in a long time when Peter and I had nothing planned and no parties to attend, and I've got to say, it felt weird at first. So I spent a significant amount of time making a scrap book about all the places we'd been over the past year, all the people we had partied with, and all the times we had said, because it's fun!  

And then I realized something while showing off my weekend's worth of work to Peter last night, I had a lot of pages left to fill. My scrap book was far from finished.

Sometimes though, you need a time out and a whole weekend when it's just you and me (and Roscoe), to reflect on where you've been, to confirm that the future of your life in your little ranch house is far rosier than that of those living at Versailles, and to make sure that life together will always be happy and the kind of private party that everyone wants to emulate. And that's really fun. 

Now, I'm off for a morning jog with my new running partner.

Lo.