The Gift of Food: A Squash Surprise

There is nothing more heart-warming then the offer of food from a friend, especially when one is feeling sickly, as I have been. Stuffed nose, achy head, green boogers and the like have been plaguing me for the last few days, a nasty bug that Izzy passed on to me. I sat home today bemoaning my fate when the offer of a friend brightened my day.

My friend C. , was not only kind enough to pick up some cat food for me but also she brought along some of her roasted vegetables for me to nibble. I must let you know that C. seems to roast a never-ending supply of vegetables, as she is always offering to bring some over. I have marveled at her prolific vegetable-roasting talents and wondered why I never get around to all of that roasting myself. At the same time, I have also marveled over C.'s general health. She is rarely sick. She attributes part of her sturdy constitution to all of her vegetable eating (hence all of that roasting)...

Today I discovered C.'s secrets..


Secret #1. Vegetable Roasting Proclivity

I opened the small container of roasted squash chunks and stuck a forkful in my mouth, only to be met with unwieldy outer skin. I crunched down a bit and then decided to take a closer look.. I noted that the chunks had been roasted with the skin. It all became clear. C. was able to go around roasting squashes like there was no tomorrow, because she didn't go through the painstaking work of peeling them, something I am none to keen on doing. What I wondered was if she then cut around the skin before eating it or indeed did eat the entire chunk, skin and all. I had to find out.

Secret # 2: Exceptional Good Health

I sent C. a message innocently asking if she ate the skin on that particular variety of squash (Hubbard ). I was stunned to learn that not only did she purposely eat the skin of that squash but of all others as well!!! Now the only edible winter squash skin I have ever heard of is the delicata variety. The others are far too tough and chewy for my tastes. To each his own they say. Why does my friend C. enjoy veggies with their skins on? Who can say but I do know that eating vegetable skins must be C.'s secret to good health. After all, they do say that most of the vitamins in many vegetables are found in the skin. C. also mentioned eating other skins, like those of sweet potatoes (which I do eat myself). And come to think of it, my grandfather was a big believer in eating the skins of his potatoes too so perhaps that is one of the secrets to his longevity.

Now I am not sure what to make of all of this skin eating but I do know this.
As much as I envy C.'s good health, I am not sure I am willing to eat a bunch of squash skins to achieve it. Instead I will try her recommendation of a multi-vitamin and fish oil and see if that does the trick.

Meanwhile C. wonders if there are any other squash skin eaters out there....

New Jersey La Leche League Conference 2009: To Listen But Not To Eat...

Ina May Gaskin...recounting "Little-known facts about breastfeeding"
at the NJ area LLL conference, April 25, 2009

Attending La Leche League conferences is always a joy. It is heartwarming to be surrounded by such a large group of like-minded mothers, women devoted to nurturing their children and to helping others do the same. The conferences are also a great opportunity to hear the voices of wisdom speak and this year was a stellar one in that respect. Marian Tompson (one of the founding mothers of LLL) and Ina May Gaskin (a midwifery guru) were both on hand to share their latest ponderings with us.

This year, as in years past, Izzy has joined me at the conference, playing in the children's activity room while I "go to Mama school". I don't ordinarily choose to sleep over because I would rather not subject myself to a freezing cold impersonal hotel with less than mediocre food. I opted to stay over for one night this year because our group won the privilege of having breakfast with Ina May Gaskin and Marian Thompson. I couldn't pass up the opportunity so on Friday evening, we drove down with M. and her family. I packed a picnic dinner for us, along with loads of snacks.

We arrived at dinnertime and Izzy and were able to partake of the crudites offered at the hotel, which we supplemented with our truffled chicken sandwich. The food only deteriorated from there, as the next morning I paid around $25 for a bagel, some sliced fruit, a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. Lunch was not much better. Izzy had spaghetti with tomato sauce (I wouldn't allow the meatballs) and I had some vegetarian dish with vegetables, pasta and cheese.

This year, as in every other year at the conference, I lamented the food served. Some years I have even opted out of lunch. I chose not to go that route this year since not having a seat with the others is less than convivial. So it was that Izzy and I sat eating the unappealing offerings, listening while other moms complained about them too. Granted we are there to listen and learn and not to eat but even so, why does the hotel food have to be so abysmal?

Lunching With Rapscallions On A Cold Winter's Day

Izzy and his friend T., tagged along with us (their moms) to Pilates this morning. As they whizzed about the studio, making mischief of one kind or another, C., our instructor referred to them as monkeys, then elves. Upon hearing the word elves, T. said, "No, monkeys" and Izzy said, no "Rapscallions." Fitting enough, I might add. And as the day wore on, even more so.

As it was too cold to even think of strolling about in the pre-Christmas rush of NYC, we ended up at Baumgart's, in Edgewater, for a rather late lunch. Baumgart's in Edgewater, though not as wonderful as the original in Englewood, is still a fine place to dine with kids (or grown-ups). In fact we bumped into two teachers from Izzy's school, enjoying their first day of winter break.

Izzy and T. were giddy with delight as they frolicked in the booth. They both attacked a large platter of edamame and were then served warm sesame noodles, soft, thick and nutty. T. ignored hers for fries and ketchup while Izzy twirled his and commented upon how he first tried them with Papa.


S. and I were just happy to be sitting across from two happy, non-complaining children (oops I mean rapscallions), our accomplishment for the day.

Melting Potluck: An Obama Victory Party

If ever there were a cause for celebration, this election was it. I had to do something and since I haven't hosted a party in ages I decided it was now or never. The idea simmered in my head throughout the week and on Friday evening I sent out the Evite..There was no turning back.

Response was overwhelming and with kids and adults there were over 30 guests. Whenever I throw a party I go overboard, intending to prepare everything, which is why I chose potluck this time, hoping to relieve myself of some of the work. And I kept it fairly simple on my end with herbed popcorn, sliced olive breads, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and chocolate-banana cake.

The beauty and terror of potluck is you are never quite sure what you'll end up with. In this case I'd venture to say we were fairly potlucky..There was plenty to eat, from a vegetarian lasagne to an Israeli couscous salad. There were two kinds of salads, a few chicken dishes, a pear cobbler, a chocolate layer cake, biscotti and some booze.

In the aftermath, popcorn was ground into the carpeting, I have a hole in my foot from a toothpick and I am left with cake I don't want to eat. The wisest move I made was sending the guests home with their dishes, eaten or otherwise so that I didn't have extra dishes to wash, as I still haven't finished.

Potluck or no, I am exhausted and what I really wanted to talk about was my buffalo meatloaf and the mashed potatoes, but that will have to wait.

Yes it will...

Bagels For Break-Fast

Izzy rejoices in bagel decadence: butter and cream cheese together.

A Rosh Hashana Sans Rugelach: A Kitten Calls

Blame it on the kitten emergency. Not much else would keep me from baking one of my favorite New Year treats. I had the cream cheese dough all ready and waiting in the refrigerator, all set to roll and fill after lunch and then..


There I was in the back yard, hanging Izzy's wash out on the line, when I heard a whistling, almost bird-like sound. I looked up and saw nothing. I looked around and listened again. The sound was coming from the ground and it was more like a high pitched cry of sorts. Something was rustling in the leaves and I peered through the chain link fence to see a tiny gray and white creature mewling away, its fur matted down and wet, its tiny eyes glued shut. It took a moment for it to sink in. Mama cat had given birth and this was one of the litter. Where was Mama anyway? I hadn't seen her for a couple of days and had been wondering if her time had come. I pondered all of this and then became frantic. I had to save that kitten, that was a lovely gray and white with tortoise in between.


Who would I enlist to help? First was Y., friend and cat lover who lives nearby. We spoke and agreed to reconvene later. Then the landlord of the house next door. He said he would let me into the backyard if need be. Then was L., neighbor and cat person. I knew she would spring to action. She arrived at my door within seconds, leaped over the fence and picked up the poor kitty and immediately nestled it in her chest. She warmed it and held it while I ran off to purchase kitten formula and pet nursers.


When I returned, she and a friend of hers arrived to assist in the feeding. So there we were, a La Leche League Leader with no bottle feeding experience whatsoever and two childless women, none of whom could get those rubber nipples to work. It must have taken a half an hour to finally get something into the kitten's mouth. Meanwhile it pooed all over L. (better her than me, right?) and I turned my kitchen upside down looking for sharp objects with which to pierce those annoying nipples. Mission finally accomplished, feeding somewhat done, I placed the tender creature on a pair of old p.j.'s, inside a box and went to pick up Izzy.


I told him I had a surprise for him, a crying surprise at that. He came home to find the little ball of fur nestled in the box . He asked in wonderment, "Do you think that came from Mama cat?" Indeed I did.

We both couldn't keep our eyes off of her. Just then, Y. arrived to check out the scene. We attempted to feed the kitty again but were not very successful. It was then I decided a trip to the vet was in order. Y. ferried us there and ended up coming in.


As soon as they took a look, she was whisked away, with hushed voices murmuring how the kitty was not looking so well. Her vitals were going and they said we had two choices. Leave her there and they would put her to sleep or take her. We opted with the former. The vet assured us that it was quite possible that Mama cat left the unhealthy one purposely and there was not much we could have done.


I felt a loss, having already grown attached to her, imagining nursing her back to health. Izzy didn't quite understand what happened. It did put a damper on our day but now we are both on a quest to find Mama and the rest of the litter.

The Wonder Of A Blue Egg: Local Eggs, At Their Best

Imagine the wonder and surprise in my little boy's eyes when he opens a carton of eggs to find that they are all just a little bit different, with one blue egg and one speckled egg nestled in amongst the others, each a different size.

Intrigued by the prospect of a blue egg, Izzy immediately reserved it for himself. I told him we would save it for a "fried egg day", to savor its goodness.



Today turned out to be the day Izzy requested his egg for breakfast, heretofore unheard of. He happily burst the bright shining yolk with his bread, dunking it in, savoring its flavor as it dripped down his chin.




Egg bliss.

These Upper Meadows Farm eggs (from the Hamilton Park Farmers' Market) were a delight to behold, even for me. I imagined a diverse bunch of hens clucking around, contentedly laying them. It is for that image and many other reasons as well, that I will only purchase eggs from a farmer I know and trust, which sometimes means a trip to Union Square, in the freezing cold, with eggs on my brain.

I have been buying local farm eggs for the past 10 years or so and often hesitate at the idea of buying eggs at the supermarket, even when desperate times call for desperate measures. When I have no choice, I look for organic, free-roaming eggs that are as local as possible (say Pennsylvania instead of Wisconsin for example). For more in-depth egg-selection criteria, check out this article in today's New York Times. And keep in mind that eggs are most incredible when fresh from the farm.

A little egg poetry...

Carton Surprise

Different sizes.
Different colors.

One blue.
One speckled.

One brown.
One freckled.

What have the hens gone and done.
Magic is within each one.

Bright yellow yolk.
Smooth white

True eggy taste
in every bite.

La Festa Italiana: Holy Rosary Church Festival 2008

Jewish I may be but that does not keep me from being a devotee of the "Italian feast." Living in Jersey City allows me to indulge in the bright lights and greasy fare on a small scale, without having to brave the harsh lights and crowds of nyc. This year's feast began on Wednesday and continues thru the weekend.

Attending thhis summer event has become a tradition for Izzy and friends. This year the rides were the draw, with a moon walk and blow up "obstacle course" causing a sensation amongst the five and under set. Izzy and friends completely wore themselves out racing back and forth between these attractions, sipping lemonade in between.

As far as the food, the line for "Aunt Mary's" rice balls is always the longest. Even though she keeps about four or five deep fryers going, she still can't meet the demand, churning out 400-500 balls on a good day. I'd have to say the novelty is the lure. They're not something you come across on a regular basis, nor or they something most would prepare at home. Still and all, though I might add a bit of oomph to them if I made them myself, I find myself waiting on that line, knowing full well this is the only place I will find myself eating them.


Oh and this year there is some better than average pizza from the Hamilton Park Pizza Cafe(corner 7th and Brunswick). Great news if you live in the Hamilton Park neighborhood.

This year, with the help of A., I discovered the "Wine with Peaches" which was perfect for washing down the rice balls. I somehow missed it in the past but won't forget it in the future. It was definitely a hit with the ladies in our crowd, as friends from near and far gathered around a table with the oldsters in the back, sipping away. Izzy tried to snitch a peach chunk from my glass; uh one thing I won't be sharing with him.

Overall a great time to be had with the kiddies or without, if you simply enjoy the kitsch of it all. We didn't get home until 9:30 and I vowed that would be our only night at the feast this year.


But wait, I forgot to tell you about Rosalie's cheesecakeand the zeppole...to be continued...

67 Oranges: My Brother Hosts Grandpa's 99th Birthday Brunch

Let it be known that my brother squeezed 67 oranges for the juice he served at the impeccably prepared birthday brunch that he and his Sweetie S. served to celebrate our grandfather's 99th birthday.

This was the first time (well actually second but I prepared that meal) he hosted and prepared a meal at his home for a family event. I was a bit wistful since I was looking forward to doing it myself but after Izzy's birthday it was good to have a respite from the kitchen.

When Izzy and I arrived, calm reigned overall as everything was incredibly well-organized, down to the last detail of lovely flowers on the table. In a way, this came as a surprise because for years my brother E. has lived in his neat old house with decor consisting of his childhood desk and our old kitchen table and chairs, with other manner of bachelor-style furnishings.

What I hadn't noticed was that little by little, he has been working (along with great encouragement from his lady-friend, I imagine) to transform his house into an elegantly styled show-place.


From the kitchen to the living room, everything was immaculate.
Guests arrived to a table set with artfully arranged platters of grilled vegetables, bowls of fruit,home baked breads, bagels and two kinds of quiche. There were also was also the smoked fish delivered from Zabar's, awaiting my arrival. I was immediately put in charge of the lox, whitefish and cream cheese display which was laid out in the kitchen.

All was well orchestrated and neatness was maintained, save for a bit of madness that Izzy and I introduced to the party (details to follow). After the brunch time buffet, I brought out the Strawberry Cheesecake, my one contribution to the celebration.


All in all, it all worked out for the best. Evidently the guest of honor had a swell time. He didn't even have to eat his vegetables before having dessert. In fact, he only ate the dessert.

Venison Version Two: Mario Batali's Way

Way back in the autumn, I was the lucky recipient of several cuts of venison. I cooked some stew meat the first time around and I thought I would try something else this time. Then I found I had two more packages of stew meat. Since spring is already here, I thought it best to use those long-simmering cuts now before it gets too hot.

This time I adapted a Mario Batali recipe for Venison Goulash. I had to make do without a couple of key ingredients which I am sure would have improved the flavor but even without them, the dish was a success. Of course my taste buds aren't their usual quite yet but Izzy and his Papa managed to finish at least three pounds of the stuff.


Venison Goulash: Gulgas di Capriolo
Recipe copyright 2001, Mario Batali. All rights reserved
Show:
Molto Mario
Episode:
A Casa A Cormons

4 pounds venison shoulder
1 carrot, cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 ribs celery,
cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 Spanish onions, cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 sprig fresh rosemary
1 sprig fresh thyme
6 sage leaves
6 cloves garlic
6 peppercorns
6 juniper berries (I left out)
1 bottle dry red wine
1/4 cup lard (I used olive oil)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
4 ounces speck, cut into 1/4-inch dice (I used bacon)
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
4 cloves
1 cup sour cream (I left out)
2 tablespoons roughly chopped flat-leaf parsley
Grated Montasio, for garnish

Trim the venison of any connective tissue, and cut it into 2 by 1-inch cubes. In a 6-quart pot, combine the carrot, celery, onions, rosemary, thyme, sage, garlic, peppercorns, juniper berries, and red wine and bring to a boil.

Remove from the heat, allow the marinade to cool, and submerge the venison pieces. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

Remove the meat from the marinade and pat dry with towels, reserving marinade. In a heavy-bottomed Dutch oven, heat the lard until smoking.

Season the venison with salt and pepper and place 4 to 5 pieces at a time in the pan. Sear until deep golden brown all over, then remove to a plate. Repeat the process until all the meat is done.

Add the flour and speck to the pan and bring to boil. Add the cinnamon, cloves, remaining marinade and meat, including juices exuded onto the plate, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook slowly for 1 1/4 hours, or until the meat is very tender. Remove from the heat, stir in the sour cream, sprinkle with parsley, check for seasoning, and serve immediately.

I served this over a bed of wide noodles. It would also be great with boiled potatoes.

I've Tried Everything

I truly want to believe that my body will heal itself. I have been trying my best to steer clear of antibiotics unless I really need them. My grandfather is going to be 99 this year and has probably not ever taken antibiotics. He has certainly had his share of colds and the like but he restores his health the old-fashioned way. His remedy? Bufferin, tea and sleep.

Since last Monday, I've been battling this rotten flu. I have drunk all sorts of teas sweetened with gobs of honey. Homemade ginger tea with lemon, Lemongrass tea, Peppermint tea, Biga Deep Defense Tea. I have sipped soups and steamed myself with eucalyptus. I subsist on a diet of mainly vegetables and no sweets. In fact I am rarely hungry and often thirsty.

I have humidfied and detoxified and still I ache and cannot talk without coughing. My head is full of icky phlegm. It seemed time to finally buy a Neti-pot. It has to be the way to clear my body of impurities.



In case you don't know much about them, you will find this video especially enlightening..I surely did! (Warning, the ending contains VULGAR language)




I have used mine twice, water only. Surely an odd sensation but will it help? I can only hope. Meanwhile, Izzy is itching to use it and we may just make an attempt shortly. Meanwhile, if there are any remedies I may have left out or should use, let me know.

Today's Brunch: Waiting Patiently

We had invited friends for brunch at noon. Come 12:15, Izzy was restless and looking for eats. I told him his friends would be arriving shortly. He did not want to eat without them and he was sad because he was hungry. They arrived just in time and suddenly, his hunger was forgotten for a few minutes. Eventually, he and his friend T. made their way to the table.

Izzy and his friend T., feasted upon Belgian waffles (I tweaked the recipe yet again) and fruit salad. Waffles make good finger food although Izzy preferred to use his fingers for the fruit and his fork for the waffles. They both cleaned their plates!

Belgian Buttermilk Waffles ( Inspired by Epicurious)

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup wheat germ

2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon salt

2 cups well-shaken buttermilk

3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled to room temperature

2 large eggs, separated, egg whites whipped to soft peaks

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Vegetable oil for waffle iron

Directions

Put oven rack in middle position and put a large metal cooling rack directly on it.

Preheat oven to 250°F and preheat waffle iron.

Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl.

Whisk together buttermilk, melted butter, egg yolks and vanilla extract in another bowl, then whisk into flour mixture until just combined. Fold in egg whites.

Brush hot waffle iron lightly with vegetable oil and pour a slightly rounded 1/2 cup of batter into each waffle mold (see cooks' note, below).

Cook waffles according to manufacturer's instructions until golden and cooked through, about 3 minutes. Transfer as cooked to rack in oven to keep warm, keeping waffles in 1 layer to stay crisp. Make more waffles in same manner.

Makes 8 squares, depending upon size of waffle-iron.

Eating Pizza: Ordinary For Some, Extraordinary For O.

Today was a momentous occasion for Izzy's friend O... You must understand that O. has been on a dairy, gluten and wheat-free diet for nearly three years. Lately, much to my great pleasure, his parents have been loosening the restrictions, hoping for no ill effects.

I was beside myself with joy to see O., at his very own birthday party, with a piece of pizza set before him. He seemed a tad bewildered and seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time nibbling gingerly at it. This is a boy who gobbles down cold ice cream in a flash so perhaps he realized the magnitude of the moment and was savoring his pizza, bit by bit.



Not only did he have pizza but he also was able to indulge in an ordinary birthday cake. So far so good, no ill effects were noted.

I am enthralled for so many reasons. For one, his mom will no longer have to stay up creating all manner of meals just for him, or have to agonize over what to prepare for his lunches. Best of all, it will be easier for O. to participate in parties and outings, without having to worry about what he can or cannot eat!

Nevermind birthday, I want to throw an "O. Eats Wheat" party!

Pease Porridge Hot: Warm Wintry Weekday Breakfast

How is it that I've gone through my whole life not knowing that porridge was just another name for oatmeal? To me, porridge is the stuff of Oliver and fairy tales and sounds far more fun to eat. I still don't know what "pease porridge" means but that won't keep me from eating it

.

I don't really know much about oats because I was raised as a Farina girl, lapping up soupy bowls of it, doused with milk. Only later it life have I have discovered the pleasures of a hearty bowl of oatmeal.

As it turns out, oats can be quite enticing, provided they are gussied up a bit. The best way to do this is by adding frozen berries. Izzy loves to add blueberries, raspberries and blackberries to his porridge, sweetened with a touch of maple syrup and a touch of heavy cream. The berries not only serve to sweeten, they also cool down the steaming porridge so that a child can eat it without waiting.

There is nothing I like more than the idea of sending Izzy off to school with his belly full and warm. So each morning I have taken to preparing a different type of porridge. This week we have been eating Scottish Style Porridge Oats (too chewy for my tastes) and last week we were having Whole Foods Organic Oats (much softer and more pleasing to our palates). Whichever oats you choose make sure they are not instant. Surprisingly, most regular oats (barring McCann's) cook in about six minutes.

Aside from frozen berries, there are many other welcome additions to oatmeal. You can play around with all sorts of fruits, including dried, creating an entire porridge repertoire.

Thanks and No Thanks

Izzy and I were up early and just about on our way to pick up our turkey from Union Square yesterday when the phone rang. It was my friend and neighbor H., who so kindly offered to take Izzy along with her children, to the Liberty Science Center. I couldn't have been more thrilled since frankly I had no idea how I would drag Izzy with me, the granny cart and no stroller. He wasn't keen on the idea but I had no choice. I had no other way of getting that turkey, plus all of the other missing ingredients home.

After sending him off with her and her children. I rolled my granny cart along to the train station, filled with thoughts of gratitude for my friends and neighbors who seem to come through in a pinch, when I least expect it. They are deserving of more than thanks (in fact a whole post devoted to the subject) but that will have to come later. Until then, I send my Thanksgiving wishes. And the good fortune they had, of not having to sit at my Thanksgiving table. Why? Take a look...

Yes, this may have been my work area but it is still indicative of the kitchen chaos that characterized my evening. From undercooked turkey to a of frenzy of fried chickpeas and oil spattered walls, it was not a pretty sight. I am still cleaning up..to be continued...

Where's My Thanksgiving Menu? (Thanksgiving Angst)

Is it in a magazine or is it in a blog I've seen?
Is it in my recipe file or hiding underneath this pile?

Each night before I go to bed,
A turkey lurks inside my head.

What shall I cook? What shall I bake.
It had better taste good, for goodness sake!

I'm still not sure. I still don't know.
There's not much time left, Oh NO!


This is what I have so far...

Finger Foods

Spiced Nuts (Nigella Lawson)
Fried Chickpeas
Sheep Dip and Crackers (3 Corner-Field Farm)

Main Course and Sides

Buttermilk Biscuits

Roasted Turkey (Brined)
Stuffing? Cornbread/Apples/Chestnuts Sage?
Gravy ?

Pumpkin, White Bean and Kale Ragout (The Vegetarian Option)

Cranberry Port Mold (Gourmet)

Brussels Sprouts (tba)

Sweet Potatoes (tba)

Salad (tba)


Desserts

Pumpkin Cheesecake (Epicurious)

Apple Tarte Tatin (Patricia Wells)

I beseech you, if you can fill in any of the blanks I will sleep better tonight.Or be prepared for more Thanksgiving angst to follow!

Surprise 50th: Musings on Mules and More

Surprise! Today my sister-in-law, M., threw a party for my eldest brother, G.'s, 50th birthday. They live in a rural area of New Jersey where apparently people shop for mules. In order to facilitate the surprise, a neighbor invited my brother to go mule-shopping. At first I thought that a 'mule' was the new name for a piece of farming equipment. Alas, no, they were talking live animals.

All of the guests awaited my brother's arrival on his endless expanse of front-lawn. We stood outside in the nippy air for what seemed like ages because something went awry in the mule-shopping plans. Not only that but just as they were making their way back my brother decided to chase a trespassing car through his many acres of woods, bypassing our surprise set-up. We all looked in shock as the car, instead of curving around the corner and toward our group, instead came speeding out of the woods, landing several yards away. I am not sure who was more surprised, him or us... It all ended well and he was indeed surprised. Izzy was relieved because by this time he had begun to whine for food. It was four o'clock, sort of the snack hour so we quickly made our way inside to begin eating. There was plenty of food which began with baguette slices spread with various toppings. These were followed by platters and platters of sandwiches, pastas, salads and cake. And, lest I forget, the brownies and homemade oreos that I prepared for the party. All in all, an ample spread, with something for everyone. And to be sure, plenty of vegetarian fare.

Izzy partook of all that was offered, eating sandwiches, salad and some desserts. In my mind we had eaten so much that dinner would not be in order. We had a longish trip back and left my brother's house around 6:45. We would be back just in time for bed, around 8. When we got inside, Izzy sat to remove his shoes and asked, "What are we having for dinner?"

I told him that we had already eaten dinner and I took him up to get ready for bed. He was clearly tired and somewhat confused but in some way I understood, for I too could have eaten something else.

Why you wonder? I will explain shortly.

This Is What You MIssed Last Night

When you turned down my invitation for dinner...you know who you are. And you weren't the only one.

Roast Chicken, Braised Red Cabbage Apples, Boiled Fingerling Potatoes, Green Beans Vinaigrette and let's not forget the Challah and Chocolate-Chip Cherry Rugelach for dessert.

Must Stop Eating These: Chocolate-Chip, Cherry Rugelach

And everything else that I bake, for that matter. It would be nice to stop at just one or two but these Chocolate-Chip, Cherry Rugelach are irresistible.
Even A. had one and we know he never eats sweets. But back to the subject of portion control. Baking for Izzy(and he has me as his portion controller) and friends is a favorite pastime, yet after he goes to bed, I am left with a whole pile of leftover sweets from the day. How will I ever manage to keep on baking and stop nibbling?

You try baking these and watch what happens...

Dough

2 cups all purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
6 ounces chilled cream cheese, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Filling

1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
12 tablespoons cherry preserves
8 tablespoons dried tart cherries
8 tablespoons miniature semisweet chocolate chips
8 tablespoons finely chopped walnuts
1/3 cup (about) whipping cream

Preparation for dough

Blend first 3 ingredients in processor.
Add butter and cream cheese and cut in using on/off turns until dough begins to clump together.
Gather dough into ball.
Divide dough into 4 equal pieces; flatten into disks.
Wrap each in waxed paper and refrigerate 2 hours. (Can be prepared 2 days ahead. Keep refrigerated.
Let soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out.)

Filling preparation

Line large baking sheet with parchment paper.
Mix sugar and cinnamon in small bowl.
Roll out 1 dough disk on waxed paper, with paper on top too, to 9-inch round.
Spread 3 tablespoons cherry preserves over dough, leaving 1-inch border. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons dried cherries, then 2 tablespoons chocolate chips, 2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar.
Press filling firmly to adhere to dough.
Cut dough round into 8 equal wedges.
Starting at wide end of each wedge, roll up tightly.
Arrange cookies, tip side down, on prepared baking sheet, spacing 1 1/2 inches apart and bending slightly to form crescents. Repeat 3 more times with remaining dough disks, preserves, dried cherries, chocolate chips, cinnamon sugar.
Place baking sheet in freezer 30 minutes.
Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 375°F. Brush cookies lightly with whipping cream. Bake frozen cookies until golden brown, about 40 minutes. Transfer cookies to racks and cool completely. (Can be made ahead. Store in airtight container at room temperature up to 1 week or freeze up to 1 month.)

Makes 32.

GO Gone Kaput

GO: Gourmet Organic, our neighborhood's attempt at providing bread, cheese, produce and other upscale comestibles, has finally thrown in the towel. Probably not much of a surprise to many locals who according to jclist, had not been great fans of the place.

I suspected something was amiss when I saw that they had a sign that read, "Closed For Two Weeks Starting July 23"..yet it was well past that date and there was still no sign of life inside. I saw one of the owners today who confirmed that they had indeed sold. Sad news that GO failed but let's face it, it needed work.

The good news is that the owners of La Rustique, which many consider to be the best pizzeria in Jersey City (which may not be such a high accolade considering how dire our pizza situation is) have bought it and have some plans to turn into more of a deli/pizzeria..

I can only hope that the bring an affordable and tasty new eating option to the Hamilton Park neighborhood, for we could truly use one.

p.s. Despite its many faults, I will always hold fond memories of Izzy sampling cheese at GO and craving the ficelles they used to get from Hudson Breads...alas, it wasn't meant to be.