note to self

this isnt a real post. more like a reminder to myself to make a recipe I just read about. only there was no recipe so I will have to make some assumptions on how to assemble. the dish is a Scallop BLT, with pancetta, tomato coulis and greens on a baguette. yum! if I make it and it turns out i'll post the recipe i used. stay tuned.. whoever you are :)

Patty Cake Patty Cake

I love cake! I mean really, who doesn't? What is even better is that I have an office full of men that like cake too. Why is this good you ask? Well, because if I baked the cake and ate it all myself I'd be as big as a house. Baking for the people at work gives me a good chance to try out recipes and most of the time work foots the bill for ingredients. Bonus!

Last week was a work friends birthday on that silly Irish holiday. I promised her nothing mint, nothing green and nothing irish like. So.. I baked her a chocolate raspberry mousse devils food layer cake. YUM!




Between the layers was a layer of raspberry jam(seedless) covered by a layer of mousse with fresh raspberries pressed into it. Well, the recipe called it mousse, but from what I know about cream and chocolate it was more of a ganache. Then you cover the whole cake in the fluffy mousssey/ganache. Top it off with fresh raspberries and a dusting of cocoa powder. Voila! Heaven. My 2nd layer cake ever - a success. At least in my mind.

Dear No One

It has been 5 months since my Dad passed away. I miss him a lot. Every single day. Sometimes it hits me so hard that it takes my breath away. Sunday I was walking home from the grocery store when images of that day started flooding my head and it was like he died all over again. It just feels like another life another person was laying in that bed. Not my Dad. It couldn't be.

More and more I think back to that day and wish I could go back, freeze time and stay there forever. It was almost easier when the pain was right at the surface and the reality was right in front of me. I could deal with it. Believe it. If I could just go back and hang on. But I know that is silly and the reality is that it happened, it is over, and life must go on. My life must go on, because his did not and he's part of me so I do it for both of us.

And rather than pay someone $200 odd bucks an hour to say that outloud.. I blog.

I Spell My Name L-A-M-E

As the work winds down to a mere 2.5 hours I am starting to think about the weekend ahead and I realized - eh not much happening lady. I love when I have nothing of consequence going on, but sometimes it can be bad because then the little stuff I have to do doesnt get done. Why you ask? Well, if I think I have an infinite amount of weekend time and no schedule to speak off I put it all off and off until its Sunday afternoon and I dont want to fill what is left with chores. So since it is one of those weekends of nothing - I am going to make a to do list. And share it with you (whoever you are). Perhaps if I feel I'm being held accountable I will get it done.

1. Friday - Wash a load of Darks... otherwise I will be starting a fashion known as "Naked Mondays". I live in Wisconsin so that's just not acceptable. Frost bite.. no thanks.
2. Tidy Up. The kitten has been making a mess of Christmas and I need to fix it. Maybe he is just trying to tell me he doesn't like how I put the ornaments on the tree and this is just his way of telling me. Everyone's a critic.
3. Saturday - Hop in the RAV with the BFF and head to GoodWill and JO-Ann Fabrics in search of Ugly Christmas Sweaters for an Ugly Christmas Sweater party.
4. Drink Vino and watch Cheesy Christmas movies on TV & Perhaps make this red grape and pecorino pizza I saw a recipe for today.
5. Sunday - Make Truffles - I ordered this little bitty dough scoop that will be perfect for this and it arrived today. Using a spoon and trying to roll chocolate is hard. It melts in your hands folks. First up... PB Truffles or perhaps Mint? Can't decide.
6. Finish Reading, "Among the Thugs" so I can return it to the library :)

When did my life get to be so boring. I think perhaps it is time to change the name of my blog to "Knit & Snore."

Eesh.

Should I Call the Fire Department??

The Kitty is in the TREE!!!

F is for Fall. F is for Figs. Coincidence?

I like to think of myself as a bit of a foodie, if you will. I don't pretend to know what I am doing or be able to tell you what's in that sauce, but I like to learn and try new things. And who better to test these things on than my friends??

A very good friend of mine was having a wine & movie girl night so I told her I'd make something yummy. At least I'd hoped it be yummy. Most of the cookbooks I have are not big on appetizers so I wandered over to the Food Network to find something worthy. With so many choices I clicked on In Season Now and thought figs sounded like my best bet. I ended up making Pecorino Romano with Apples and Fig Jam. I even made my own fig jam (which was REALLY easy).


The only difference in mine and the photo below was the color of the jam. Mine was bit more purpley. I used dried black mission figs from Whole Foods. I scored the store for at least 25 minutes before I finally asked someone where they were. I'd found fresh figs and all other sorts of fig things, but no dried figs. Apparently, as the help desk person was so kind to inform me, I'd been staring right at them! All the bulk fruits and nuts and there they were.. alphabetically no doubt. Oh well. Then of course because I was then kinda nervous I dropped one on the floor and before I had a chance to grab it someone walked by and stepped on it. I suppose I could have scraped that up and used it as fig jam.. no? Ok.

Now that I'd gathered all my ingredients I went home to make all the pieces to then assemble later at my friend's house. I was really nervous thinking people would turn up their noses at figs. I mean its not something I know of many people eating everyday, but its not as if they are exotic or anything. Though I do have a very funny side story about a fig tree in Orvieto, Italy, but that is for another day. Anyway.. I toasted the baguettes and put it all together on pretty platter, walked back in to the kitchen to make more, walked back out and half had ben devoured. Success!!! Even more so when I said that I'd made the fig jam myself, but then of course I told them it was absolutely simple.(side note on the hazlenuts: if you cant find roasted... throw some on a pan in the oven and watch them closely until they get a golden brown and then crush them up - the flavor makes a big difference - like 350 degrees for 5minutes maybe).



My favorite part was the cheese. I love cheese. It is very important for these treats that you are sure to get the Pecorino Romano. It has such a great flavor. This particular cheese is quite sharp. So sharp that is actually a bit spicy. Anyway, that was my Fig story. Leave it to Giada De Laurentiis I just love her and her recipes always rock. Another one of hers are the pizzettes with carmelized onions and goat cheese!!!! I love food!

Country Road.. Take Me Home...

I guess it is finally time to write about it. After all, it has been a month since it happened.

My Dad, Jack J Magestro, Born 9-24-53, passed away on 8-21-09 at 10:45pm after a long long battle with liver disease. I was there for the very end. It was the oddest experience I have ever had. One would think I'd say the saddest, but it was just too surreal to be sad.

The nurses tried for days and days to stop the bleeding in his body, but with out being able to pinpoint its location and all the procedures too risky, they said there was nothing more we can do but make him comfortable. A month earlier from then I thought he was on the up and that a liver transplant might just be possible. He fought to the very end just like he promised he would. We moved him down to palliative care and were told it could be hours it could be days. I prayed for hours. I didn't want him to suffer anymore.

My Dad really like 70s music and in his car was a tape (yes a tape) of John Denver. So my Brother ran out to get a CD player and some John Denver to pass the time. Dad wasn't conscious (hadnt been for several days) but somewhere deep down I knew he could hear it. Just like I knew that we were all there. As we sat there laughing, crying and reminiscing I noticed his breathing change. It began to slow and become shallow. This, we were told, was part of the "process." The process of dying of course. So I scooted myself to sit next to him on the bed, held his hand and stroked his lustrous dark chestnut hair (55 not a bit of gray). Everyone around me was crying, but I just whispered in his ear that it was ok to go. He promised me he would fight and he did, as long as he could, but now it was time to let go. To be at peace. Finally. Then, his breathing stopped, his heart beat followed and I just sorta sat there, not really able to comprehend the weight of what had just happened. Even as the Dr came in, declared him and eventually he turned cold, it felt so strange. My Dad was gone. He died right before my eyes.

The weirdest thing of all was the slight feeling of envy I had for him. As he was dying I found myself feeling slightly jealous because he was about to find out what happens next. He would know now and none of us do. As far as my 'faith' goes, I don't really know what I believe. But if he went somewhere or nowhere the mystery has ended for him. With this, I also have found myself no longer afraid of death (I used to be TERRIFIED!!!) because I figure if my Dad can do it, so can I. I know that sounds so weird but its true. Not that I want to die, I certainly have no plans to, but I feel a new freedom. I will live until I die and there's no sense in dwelling on it.

Then we went to the bar and had some Scotch.

The next day was filled with Funeral arrangements, TONS of phone calls and the week that followed was not much different. Wednesday was the service. Over 100 people came (my Dad not one of them as he was off to be cremated and didnt want a service) and it warmed my heart to see a line outside. He was such a private man,but yet he touched the lives of many. Thursday, I did not get out of bed until 6pm, and I ignored all my calls. Me and the kitty just hid under the covers.

Now, a month has passed and things still feel weird. I still don't feel that he is gone and I still haven't really cried. His 56th birthday is this Thursday, perhaps it will hit me then. Or maybe the last year was such a struggle and the fear of him dying was worse than the real thing, that I've already done my grieving. Time will tell.

I love you Dad. I'll always be your little girl.