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Chef Lane

But Mama, It’s Green!

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I made my Sneaky Sliders tonight. Because I had pre-made the Green Puree, prep time was next to nothing. I just had to mix my ground beef with the other ingredients, and cook the patties. What I learned:

Lesson, the first: The puree must be entirely smooth, or else your son will bite into his Sneaky Slider and howl with horror and outrage at the sight of the green pea shell, visible within his tiny burger patty.

Lesson, the second: Add more ketchup than the recipe requires, and less Green Puree, or else your husband will wrinkle his nose at you and say he tastes vegetables.

Lesson, the third: You can’t please everyone, and if you do say so yourself, those were mighty tasty little burgers!

So I failed at fully camouflaging the vegetables, but Thor did eat two burgers (the second one under duress, as he found the peas), and B went back for seconds, eating six, so I didn’t fail entirely. If I had, B would have pulled out the leftover Chinese from yesterday, or made a ham sandwich. I had four patties left over, so two of them are going to school with Thor tomorrow for lunch (we’ll see if he remembers there are peas in them after recess and he’s good and hungry), and I’ll eat the other two for breakfast.

Chef Lane

Sneaky Chef Lane

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I have been concerned about my family’s eating habits for a while now, but have felt powerless to effect any change because of some very rigid ideas about what is disgusting and inedible. I’ve done my best with fish and chicken, and done everything but stand on my head to get vegetables in their mouths, but I feel like I have fallen well short of the mark. Strangely, since we’ve moved, along with sleeping better, feeling more secure, feeling like I am getting a handle on daily domestic routines, and feeling empowered to manage my kitchen, I am suddenly optimistic about getting these men to eat things that are good for them.

Today, I bought a couple of cookbooks that had been suggested to me a while back. Emily had told me about The Sneaky Chef, by Missy Chase Lapine, and I had heard about Jessica Seinfeld’s Deceptively Delicious when the Sneaky Chef sued the Master of Jerry Seinfeld’s Domain over similarities between their cooking camouflage. I figured I should have both. I mean, if there’s a food fight on, I want to see why!

I also bought Gourmet Meals in Crappy Little Kitchens. I love my tiny space, and don’t think it is crappy at all, though B might beg to differ. I thought I might give something interesting a try once or twice a month. As far as I know, Jennifer Schaertl isn’t being sued by anyone, and she is a fellow Dallasite, so I am game to try out her recipes.

Tonight, I spent about an hour making four of the purees from the Sneaky Chef book. I liked her purees better than Seinfeld’s, but I like Seinfeld’s recipes more. I’ll be mixing and matching from both of their suggestions, and we’ll see what my family likes. Of course I won’t be posting the recipes–copyright laws and all that–but I will let you know which ones I cook, and how they go over.

All of the purees I made tasted nice to me. There’s a sweet potato/carrot one (orange puree), a broccoli/sweet pea/baby spinach one (green puree), a zucchini/cauliflower one (white puree), and a Great Northern Bean one (white bean puree). I wouldn’t want to eat them by the spoonful, but I think they will add great flavor to cooking. I’m looking forward to trying them out.

I made Thor’s lunch already, and I used half a tablespoon of white bean puree on his usual ham and cheese sandwich. We’ll see if he a) notices, b) rejects it. Tomorrow night we’re having Sneaky Sliders, and I’ll be getting vegetables into B that he wouldn’t normally eat if he was paid to do it.

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It’s a Helluva Town

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Back from my whirlwind visit to Manhattan–and I am totally a Muppet when it comes to the taking of that city. Big eyes, doofy grin, giggling, and the at-intervals comedic gaffe. The only thing I hate worse than being laughed at, is being laughed at by a server because I have committed some social sacrilege. Only two servers laughed at me, this trip. Oh well. Only one was terribly irritated by me. (Who knew you weren’t supposed to ask for a minute to consider the menu? I’m sorry! I’ve never been here before!)

I brought a head cold home as a souvenir, that and a ridiculously expensive nightie from the Betsey Johnson collection at Bloomingdale’s. But that was the one thing I had on my agenda: Buy ridiculously expensive underwear at Bloomingdale’s.

Amy was a brilliant tour guide, feeding me at some of the best places I’ve ever been to eat. And for my belated birthday celebration, feted me at Fontainebleau Day Spa with a mani/pedi/mini-massage that left me drooling with delight (and I have a new favorite nail color: Essie’s Tomboy No More red. Gorgeous!), and lunch at Ed’s Chowder House in the Empire Hotel, across the street from Lincoln Center. Would you believe I never made it to Lincoln Center in my previous NYC experience? And ever since reading Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret when I was 8, I’ve wanted to stand on those steps.

We also managed to get a few hours of adults-only conversation when Amy’s eldest took over babysitting duties for our wee bairn. It is the first time B and I have gotten to have drinks together in a public setting, with just another couple since Thor was born! We’re always going out one at a time, or only meeting up with groups of people in party settings–and that rarely enough–or one of us is the driver. We go out with other couples maybe once a year? Our last outing with another couple was with Karen and Jim, NYE 2009. Amy and I took advantage of the situation, and inundated B and Matt with stories of our checkered past employment.

To top of my birthday fun, Amy and I went to Tiffany’s. We did not eat breakfast at the window. No, we went shopping. Sadly, they were slap out of what we wanted to buy (read that with a thick southern accent, will you?) We had this very, Tiffany’s is not Target, ladies, moment. Pfft. No, it isn’t. Pleather coin purses at Target are only $8, and come in colors that will match my bag. Undaunted, we just watched ladies giving salesgirls a hard time, and gentlemen schlepping around their spouses’ designer dogs while the spouses shopped for jewelry. Amy snapped a shot of me trying to find a pricetag on a teacup. Honey, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it. No teacup for Lane. No teacup, and no pleather coin purse in Tiffany’s blue. Oh well. I’ll always have Bloomingdale’s!

B and I had his party Saturday night, and it was so cold I didn’t even want to get dressed to go. I ended up in 2 pairs of thick tights, the FoH version of Mormon underpants (seen here in the SkyMall magazine, which made me laugh so hard, I disturbed Thor’s PSP playing), my dress (a black and white number) under a wool sweater. I didn’t wear my foxy green dress because it was just that cold. I chose wisely. Even indoors, I was just barely comfortable. I was freezing my tuckus off when we went up to the heated rooftop portion of the party. Fortunately, the club provided red, hooded Snuggies for all guests. We looked like a scene out of Eyes Wide Shut. I threw some gang signs and mine became a Thuggie.

I love New York. I sleep like a baby there. And, since Amy is there, I love it even more.

2the9s, Style

Lashing Out

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I have been gabbling about getting eyelash extensions since I knew such a thing existed, but who has $250 to spend on fake lashes? Other than the cast of True Blood, whose ladies’ lashes look like they might be wearing four or five sets a piece. Last month, Groupon ran a coupon I couldn’t resist, and I snapped up a full set of extensions, plus a lash tint for $89.

In the wild, my lashes are a very good length, but they are so blonde they might as well be transparent. See:

I very rarely leave the house without mascara. Nothing against rabbits–I just don’t like looking like one.

The lash tint took about 10 minutes, and was fine. My technician, Vanessa at the Lash Lounge, daubed my lower lids with vaseline and stuck eyepads to them to keep tint from staining my skin. I closed my eyes onto the eyepads, and she went to work painting tint onto my lashes. I blinked and got a little tint in my eye, and it burned like the dickens, but she rinsed me out with saline solution and all was well with the world.

Once my lashes had some color, eyepads replaced with fresh ones, I closed my eyes and chatted with Vanessa while she laid in lashes one at a time. It was comfortable and pleasant, and I dozed off a couple of times. If the client across from me hadn’t had an unhappy dog in her purse (what puppy wants to sit in a purse at a lash salon for two hours?), I might have gotten a nap.

Some of the lashes going in tickled. Once or twice I felt a poke, as if being pricked by a tiny broomstick, but otherwise, it just felt like someone was playing in my eyelashes.

The result? Definitely worth the Groupon and most likely worth follow up appointments.

Chef Lane, guest article, Women Worth Knowing

Tarts

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Used by permission, copyright Julie Anne Rhodes.
You will remember the remarkable and charming Julie Anne Rhodes from her Women Worth Knowing profile, or from her blog Jewels from the Roving Stove, or from her photos on the social pages. However, you should remember her–because she is remarkable and charming.

She asked for restaurant spies to share about hidden gems in their eating adventures, and I passed along this bijou about Lavendou, a lovely French bistro in Dallas.
Check out her blog. She shares wonderful recipes, information on preparation and kitchen tips, and dishes up just as much wit as wisdom. I have her on my blogroll. You should, too!