20-some hours in Detroit ... and a little news!

As promised, here's a rundown (in the style of the New York Times' "36 Hours in 'fill-in-the-city-of-your-choice") of how Matt and I spent 20-some hours in downtown Detroit, sans Emery.

Thursday
12:12pm - Lunch at Slow's BBQ. It's become a real Detroit fixture, the restaurant that always appears in newspaper/magazine articles heralding the comeback of Motor City. I'm no BBQ conessiuer, but I think they're doing something right at Slow's. Usually there's a 2 hour wait. Fortunately the Thursday lunch crowd isn't so crazy, and we were able to get a table outside without any wait.

1:42pm - After leaving Slow's, we noticed a new coffee bar right next door, and by new, I mean really new - like not opening until two days after our visit.  Sad. But I had this memory of there being good coffee at Good Girls Go to Paris Crepes, so we hopped on over there after lunch at Slow's ... sadly, my memory deceived me. The coffee was just OK, and though this crepe looks delicious, it actually was not so great. My word of advice for anyone wanting to try one of their dessert crepes is don't get one with their watery chocolate sauce - make sure it's got something more substantial, like melted chocolate chips or Nutella.

2:02pm - After subpar crepes and coffee, we headed over to Belle Isle to check out its arboreteum. I know about as much about arboreteums as I do about BBQ, so I can't really make a fair assessment of this one. It was a nice diversion, though, and I really liked the lily pad pond. As well as the fact that it was then that I realized that if this was a "normal" date for us, it would probably be ending right about now - but we actually had 18 or so hours left!

Here's a picture of me in front of the lily pond.  Notice anything?

How about in this pic?

I have a belly!  And it's not from BBQ and crepes - it's a baby! Due January 17. Does this getaway count as our babymoon? I hope not!!

3:00pm - Checked in at the Westin Book Cadillac Detroit, a historic hotel recently renovated by Westin. At this point our adventures in Detroit came to a finish for the day. We would have been crazy to waste time outside when we could be taking advantage of rare peace and quiet, a toy-free bedroom and the chance to read and nap uninterrupted for a long as we chose!  We also had dinner at the the Spa 1924 Grille, and of course the most enticing items on the menu were off-limits for me - a Caesar salad with raw egg dressing, loads of shellfish offerings, wines, etc. But my wild mushroom ravioli turned out to be pretty amazing:

Friday

6:46am - You call this sleeping in?!  Ugh. But we were awake, since we're normally up even earlier than this, so we accepted it for what it was and took a run along the Detroit Riverwalk, which is in great condition and not crowded at all, which I guess speaks to the downtown population right now, but hopefully things are making a turn for the better, what with the Whole Foods opening downtown! That's major good news.

10:00am - Breakfast at the Russell Street Deli, a favorite spot of ours. At this point we're both feeling so rested and rejuvenated that thoughts of Emery begin creeping back into our head (who am I kidding?  I was thinking about her all the time!!)

We spent the rest of the day outside the city of Detroit, so my travel-log ends here. Though here's a shot of Emery on the boat with Grammie and Grandpa, on her way to see us upon our return. I can't get enough of her in her sunhat and lifejacket!!

So happy to be back in Daddy's arms!

Thank you Grammie and Grandpa Doescher for treating us to such a fabulous getaway, and for taking such great care of Emery!  Want to do it again sometime? (soon?? :) )

What could be better

Than Emery giving up her morning nap and allowing us to do more fun things in the morning, before it gets too hot, like going to the park!

A not-too-hot Saturday last weekend that allowed us to take a family hike at Reflection Riding. Matt had been here several times and I'd never been, but always kind of wondered about the name. Turns out Reflection Riding maps back to old English "ridings," which were places where the scenery progressed in a pleasant and varied way. The trails weren't too steep, very wide, and they did indeed twist and turn in pleasant ways, often opening up into pastures, making very easy for me to picture us returning again and again!

Avocado smeared on whole-grain toast that's been slathered with mayo and mustard, then topped off with a little lemon juice and sea salt.

Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups (how long will it be before Matt notices these in the fridge? I'm not going to tell him they're staring right at him!)

Discovering the source of Emery's bedtime antics ... I heard lots of chatter after I'd put her down, which was a bit unusual. It turns out she'd managed to reach far enough to grab "Goodnight Moon" off the dresser for one more reading. I don't know why, but that just melts my heart.

Attention lovers of garlic and olives

Last week at Publix I tossed a whole chicken in my grocery cart because it was on sale, but had no real plans for what I would do with it. Then, a few days later I watched an episode of America's Test Kitchen in which viewers were basically lambasted for roasting anything but free-range and/or kosher birds, because apparently the general supermarket variety will inevitably turn out dry and tasteless. I've had plenty of dry and poorly roasted chickens, and I'm not sure if that has more to do with the quality of the bird or the skill of whomever is roasting it, but I wasn't about to take my chances.

So, I immediately ran to the fridge to check my bird because I could have sworn the packaging had some "free-range-type" claims on it ... and I was wrong. There was nothing free or kosher about my bird, and after Christopher Kimball's tirade, there was no chance I was throwing my de-feathered friend in the oven.

I turned, then, to my copy of How to Cook Everything and found a recipe for Chicken and Garlic Stew that looked promising, mainly because it required very few ingredients and had one of my favorite foods (not chicken) in the recipe title.

It turned out to be FABULOUS. It was even worth the disgusting endeavor of cutting the raw chicken into parts before poaching. The chicken was so moist and absorbed all the flavors of garlic, parsley and cinnamon and the garlic cloves softened in form and flavor, easily eaten on their own or smeared on a piece of crusty bread.

Then, last night we had Smitten Kitchen's version of pasta puttanesca, bursting with all the splendid saltiness of olives, anchovies and capers. Even better, you wilt arugula into the sauce at the very end, adding just a little bit of pepperiness (is that a word?) to counter all the salty ingredients. YUM.

Sadly I did not photograph either dish, and I don't like blogging without photos, so I suppose a photograph of our happy eater will have to suffice.

Grocery love

I do a lot of grocery shopping. Sometimes I go to Greenlife Grocery three days in a row and in my embarrassment I avoid certain clerks who now know me and Emery well (yesterday one seemed surprised that Emery was wearing pink, because she said "doesn't she always wear green?" ...  as if she sees her every day!) because I don't want them to think I literally visit their store almost every single day.

I think I'm a little embarrassed because I don't want to be perceived as mindless shopper. This isn't just frivolous spending, this is serious work for me! I get a limited amount of cash in an envelope each month for groceries, and when that cash begins to dwindle, well, my visits to the store actually increase in frequency because I'm terribly afraid of the envelope being empty, so I only buy just what I need for the next meal or two, waiting for inspiration to hit me for what Thursday night's budget dinner will be.

But I realize that's only part of the reason why I go so often. Deep down, I think I really just need to own up to the fact that I love grocery stores. Some people like shopping malls, I like supermarkets. I really do. I would be so sad if I didn't get to do my own shopping or peruse sale fliers. I adore wandering around and look at the cheeses, meats, produce and baked goods, even if I have no intention of buying any of it. This means I'll often get a "can I help you with anything?" from whomever is restocking the dairy case, and my answer is always "no, I'm fine!" Can't a girl just window shop?

So I don't know where all this leaves me, which means I'll close with an adorable picture of our little ham (and no, not one I got at the grocery store!)

Now I never have to wonder

In the New York Times this Sunday, there was an article about marital disagreements on whether or not food has gone bad or is safe to eat. Well, the article might just as well have been about me and Matt, because I am that woman and he is that man.

I like rules, so I like expiration dates.  I know, I know, I know that the milk doesn't go bad as soon as the clock hits midnight on whatever date the carton reads it's expired. But, we have to draw the line in the sand somewhere, so why not just follow the rule on the package?

I was thrilled to see that the article included a link to a site that has all the answers to any food safety questions you could ever have.

Is the site's advice a bit extreme and overly cautious?  Yes, so I'll try to use common sense, too.  But I'm extremely happy that now I have a go-to resource whenever I'm wondering whether I should pitch or dig into whatever item of food is in question.

PS:  Matt, you would be proud, though, that I have been flirting with danger on a carton of half and half that said "Sell by 3/5/11."  It's now March 9 and I might even just put it in my coffee tomorrow, too.

Recipes worth repeating

When it comes to cooking, I like a lot of variety, almost to a fault. Instead of pulling out tried and true recipes on a regular basis, usually the latest (insert food blogger) post or Wednesday food section in the paper distracts and tempts me to save boring old turkey meatloaf for another night. This method often can produce good results, but there are plenty of nights when I know it would have been better for everyone involved if I had just stuck with what I know works and tastes great.

One way I'm remedying this is by keeping a dinner journal. The rewards are two-fold - we can take a trip down memory lane anytime we want to remember what happened at the dinner table, and I have an on-the-ready assortment of recipes worth going back to over and over again.

Here are a few keepers from 2010!

Quick and Easy Ciopinno - this fish stew is affordable, nutritious and truly doesn't taste like it was quick and easy
Yukon Gold Potatoes - Jacques Pepin Style - Crispy, flavorful and so simple
Toasted Marshmallow Milkshakes - I don't even care much for marshmallows, but these just hit the spot
Pasta with Peas, Prosciutto and Lettuce - the soft, salty, and crunchy tastes of spring, right in your pasta bowl!
Baked Sausages with Apples and Onions - a super supper you probably already have in the pantry, provided you keep some sausages in the freezer for last minute meals
Salted Caramel Brownie - a lot of work, but sublime
Flatbread with Roasted Apple, Butternut Squash and Caramelized Onion - if you're a vegan, you've hit the jackpot with this one; if you're not a vegan, well, you just might become one after this

What does it mean when kefir is a "new item" at the store?

It's been interesting getting to know the food culture of Chattanooga. The city has some fabulous restaurants with inventive menus that make the most of local ingredients, yet the daily newspaper regularly reviews chains restaurants like Chili's and Panera. Not that there's anything wrong with these restaurants, but do their cookie cutter menus really warrant culinary reviews?

We've got a few great organic/natural foods grocery stores like Greenlife and Earthfare, yet Trader Joe's is reluctant to join the party, hinting that our population might not be well educated enough. And I had to laugh - today I made a quick run to Bi-Lo (the standard, run-of-the-mill, don't expect anything too special and probably shouldn't buy the meat) grocery chain in town and said a quick prayer that they would have kefir. And lo and behold, they did! But, it was featured as a "new item."

I really don't know where this leaves me or what the point of this post exactly is. Perhaps just to say that whatever your appetite, Chattanooga can satisfy it.

P.S. And Trader Joe's, puhlease try to look past our Bi-Lo shoppers and Applebee eating diners and come as quickly as you can!

Thanksgiving mishap #2 and more

(in case you were wondering, the "and more" doesn't mean there were additional mishaps) However, the second mishap occurred when I punctured a hole in the disposable roasting pan, an accident that turned into such a terrible mess I don't even need to write a note to myself to splurge on a real roasting pan next year. After spending waaay too much time yesterday cleaning the oven, there is no way I would forget.



Despite this mishap, though, the dinner turned out to be pretty delicious if I do say so myself, and the turkey thankfully tasted nothing like a pickle. I went with a brine made with orange peels, apple cider and rosemary, and while it was a huge pain in the neck to soak a 17lb bird in more than 2 gallons of brine, not having dry, flaky white meat made it worth it in the end.



Emery was our little pilgrim and behaved beautifully during dinner, despite the fact that she ate what she eats practically every other night of the week and didn't get to dip her little fingers into creamed onions, confetti brussel sprouts with bacon, sweet potato strudel, mashed potatoes and mushroom leek stuffing.





She also humored everyone at the table with one of her latest tricks, sticking out her tongue.



How will we ever be able to chide her for this when it's just so darn cute?! I suppose it won't be so cute one day, though, when it comes along with a little attitude ... so for now I'm just going to enjoy the innocence of it all.

Thanksgiving mishap #1

In the midst of making a chocolate pecan pie, I set the chocolate/butter mixture in the freezer to cool. A halfway open Ziploc bag of Emery's baby food tipped over and into the chocolate.

So, the pie is going to be a little less chocolatey, and while I debated giving Emery chocolate covered sweet potatoes for dinner tonight, I don't think they are in her future. I fear she'd never go back to the way they used to be.

The house smells like a pickle jar

Let"s hope the turkey doesn't taste like one in the end. Let the brining begin!

"You can't get enough of this place, can you?"

"No!" I said, almost apologetically, but on the other hand, why was I apologizing for patronizing this gentleman's produce market nearly every other day? I went on to say that there is a grocery store problem in Chattanooga, with no place you can go to get everything on your list at a decent price, and be able to walk away with confidence that your produce isn't going to wilt or spoil in a New York minute. He heartily agreed.

A friend here clued me into this market, P&P Produce, which has become my life vest in meal planning. It's close to home, affordable, carries lots of local produce and ... need I say more?

I was wondering when someone there was going to comment on how often I make an appearance. Emery and I, we're sort of hard to miss in a market that's 1/8 of the size of your average grocery store and doesn't even have full sized shopping carts. We've learned how not to topple over cups of peaches, how to angle our cart in by the cash register to keep it from rolling away so I can scurry around front and snag a $2 canteloupe and how to smile apologetically at other patrons who can barely squeeze past us to grab a carton of tomatoes.

The cashiers, they love Emery, so I hope that makes up for the hassle of managing all my reusable grocery bags that spill out of the miniature shopping cart (which, by the way, is also known as a "buggy" down south - who knew?) as I try to pass off bananas for weighing, cherry tomatoes for dumping out of their reusable carton and into a new bag, etc.

So no, I can't get enough of this place. Thank you Mr. & Mr. (or Ms. or Mrs. I suppose), whoever you are. I'll be back on Monday!

From fried pickles to hand-dipped ricotta

Thanks to our parents' visits this month, Matt and I have been able to enjoy two dates made possible by free babysitting. The first was to Public House Chattanooga, which "plays to the comforts of good, solid food, while applying the principles of premium food products to a more casual setting." (their words, not mine, but nicely put, I think!)

We went there in December, actually, but just ordered dessert while our friends ordered dinner and a starter of fried pickles accompanied by bruschetta and housemade pimiento cheese. At the time I was pregnant, and what pregnant woman can resist a pickle, let alone one that's fried?! This dish has been on my mind ever since, so of course I ordered it on our date and since then have been mildly obsessed with the fried pickle as well as concerned that if the restaurant ever closes or takes this off the menu, what in the world will I do?

Lo and behold, on my way to the grocery store this weekend I happened to notice a restaurant much more casual than Public House, more like a diner, and it actually has a drive thru ... as well as a sign out front indicating they serve fried dill pickles.

You can imagine my relief and elation in learning that I could indulge myself without even getting out of the car (a true bonus with a baby) on an outing I make at least once a week?! God bless the South and its deep fryers.

Just this past weekend we dined at Alleia, one of Chattanooga's most popular new restaurants. An Italian restaurant, it has a very urban, yet rustic feel to it. Beautiful inside. And the appetizer we had there has gotten my mind off fried pickles on bruschetta (for the meantime), and onto hand-dipped ricotta on bruschetta with local honey and fresh thyme. Amazing. All I want to do is recreate this, as I have thyme growing like crazy outside, but I hesitate to do so with my Walmart honey and Publix ricotta that's verging on expiration.

Not sure hand-dipped ricotta (whatever that really is!) is in the grocery budget this month, but a fried dill pickle at the drive-thru? That I can spring for. Whew!

Anniversary week

Our two-year anniversary was this Tuesday and Matt surprised me with dinner at a restaurant I've been wanting to go to for a long time - Mind, Body & Spirits. Not the greatest name for a restaurant; someone even pointed out to me that it sounds more like a spa than a place you'd go to to eat. However, it's an organic restaurant that uses as many local ingredients as possible, maintains a seasonal menu and has a great atmosphere. Not quite spa-like, but relaxing.

The highlight of the meal? Our appetizer of french fries dusted with pink Himalayan salt. Piping hot, crispy but not crunchy, served in a cone of parchment paper. Absolutely delicious.

The rest of the meal was great, too, but I'm beginning to learn that my 33-week pregnant body can only handle so much food at once, so the beginnings of meals are generally the better parts. The fries, plus one and a half of a homemade rootbeer, half of a chicken puttanesca flatbread pizza, and some vanilla bean ice cream totally put me over the edge.

We continued the anniversary celebrations this weekend with a one-night stay at the Westin Book Cadillac Detroit. This is an historic hotel in Detroit that recently went through some major renovations. It was once the tallest building in Detroit and the world's tallest hotels at its completion in 1924.

Since we're not going to be doing too much hotel hopping in the near future, we made the most of our waning days of freedom and lazed around, watched TV, used the fitness center ... and of course made time to eat! We'd been wanting to go to Slows BBQ for a long time, but with threats of four-hour waits at dinnertime, were never sure when to go.

3:30 seemed like a pretty safe time to give it a shot, though, and I guess it was, even though we still had to wait an hour and fifteen minutes! It was worth it though, although, I have to confess, I'm not much of a barbeque connoisseur. I mean, I know when I'm eating really subpar barbeque, but beyond that, don't have much of a palate for what is truly amazing.

Case in point, I went to a baby shower this afternoon for a friend from Texas, so the meal was bbq. And I could have sworn it tasted just as good as Slows.

All in all, a great anniversary week! I feel like I should end this post with something sweet and sappy, something about the baby or our growing love for each other to sum it all up ... but what I really want to say is that I'm just glad I didn't ruin any of our dinners out. I have a tendency to do so whenever there's a lot of buildup for a nice night out. It's like I jinx myself and choose that very moment to let my emotions get out of control. It's quite the slippery slope.

But, perhaps my pregnant hormones have put me very much in balance, because I stayed on my best behavior. Perhaps that was the best anniversary present I could have given Matt.

Ice cream!

I adore ice cream. And it's my good fortune that we live within walking distance of three ice cream shops ... all well-suited to satisfy three different moods. When I have an appetite for serious ice cream, the kind you can scoop, the kind that can handle big chunks of chocolate and big bites as it totters on top of a sugar cone, we can walk to Clark's.

When I want predictable, we can walk to Dairy Queen and enjoy smooth vanilla ice cream and precise portion control.

Almost always, though, I'm in the mood for soft ice cream and for supporting the mom and pop shops of our town, which is why we headed to the Frosty Freeze tonight.

There's just something sweet and old-fashioned about the Frosty Freeze. Even its name makes you think of the "good ol' days." The menus taped to the window are a bit haphazard and rattle off almost every kind of ice cream concoction you can imagine. Case in point - Matt got his usual Boston Cooler tonight (a smooth blend of ginger ale and vanilla ice cream).

I don't think I've ever seen anyone over the age of 15 working at the Frosty Freeze and there's almost always a line-up of cars at its drive through, and a pile of kids at the walk-up window.

I nearly always get a vanilla or chocolate dip, because it just sounds sooo good, and often regret it when it means I finish my treat faster than Matt finishes his. There's really no way to lick and leisurely relish a dipped cone.

I love that even in this recession, even in Detroit, people are still enjoying simple treats like ice cream. Maybe even enjoying them more than they ordinarily would. I think we are!

Asparagus!

Have any of you ever seen the moving Waiting for Guffman? For those of you who haven't, it's a mock documentary (or mockumentary). It chronicles a community theater in Blaine, Missouri that is putting on a musical called Red, White and Blaine. If you enjoy parody, it's worth watching.

If you enjoy unintentional parody as well as asparagus, then Asparagus! Stalking the American Life is a documentary you won't want to miss. Matt taped the movie and we just watched about 20 minutes of it. We couldn't believe how similar it was to Waiting for Guffman, except for one important detail - it's for real.

There really is a Mrs. Asparagus. There is an asparagus song and everyone knows it. The ladies in the town are seriously excited about asparagus dishware, sweatshirts and other spear-headed paraphernalia.

The documentary takes place in Oceana County, MI, the asparagus capital of the world. However, this could all change very soon due to the U.S. war on drugs, free trade and a fast food nation.

I'm not a huge fan of asparagus, but I think by the time I finish this movie, I'll be just a little more passionate about the green spears that our state depends on.

For more information, check out the documentary's Web site http://www.asparagusthemovie.com/

And as they say in Oceana County, "Our tips are tops," so buy Michigan asparagus!

No, I did not eat a paczki today

Do you even know what one is? Or how to say it? (try POONCH-key) Unless you're from Michigan or Poland, I'm won't be surprised if you don't.

Paczkis originated in Poland, where Catholics made the doughnuts with the lard, eggs and fruit that they were trying to clear out of their cupboards before the start of Lent.

There's a fairly significant Polish population in Detroit and there was gridlock today in the Polish section of the city, as paczki fans were clamoring for their fill before the Wednesday fast (although will all today's paczki eaters really be fasting tomorrow?)

Now I'm all for a little Fat Tuesday indulging, but this just isn't my style - a gigantic slab of deepfried dough filled with jelly? Oh, and nearly 500 calories and 25 grams of fat.

Give me a slab of chocolate any day over that. Or at least a chocolate-filled paczki.

Ironically, I'm abstaining from chocolate for Lent, but am so not in the mood for it right now, just as my window of opportunity is narrowing. If only this would last for the next six weeks.

Saturdays are just the best

I had a teacher in high school who, on Fridays, would often say, "Tonight we sleep the sleep of death." Nothing morbid insinuated ... she just meant that we tend to sleep the hardest and the best on Friday nights.

Well, that's not always the case with me, but it sure was last night. I mean I slept HARD, deep and long. (well, long for me that is - 9 hours).

So I woke up cheerfully and moseyed on downstairs to check out the temperature. I knew it was supposed to be warm this weekend, but I was cautiously optimistic about just how warm it might be.

The thermometer read 41 degrees. At 8 am.

I might have been beyond cheerful at this point. Not exactly giddy, but somewhere in between the two. Not having to put on two layers of running tights, three layers on top and a face mask to shield me from sub-zero wind chill on my morning run definitely warrants rejoicing.

And even better, the day progressed so nicely! For the first time in a while, I had a wide open Saturday in front of me, with nothing I had to do.

So Matt and I ran errands, I experimented with spare ribs in the slow cooker, cleaned the house a little - just enough to feel a little better about how things look around here, but not so much that I feel exhausted, and even just sat on the couch soaking in the silence and looking out the window at the warm weather. (yes, it even looked warm outside)

There might be a three-way tie for the day's high point, because I can't decide if the good night's sleep, the warm weather or our excursion downtown was the best part of the day. We had lunch at Good Girls go to Paris Crepes, which is literally a hole in the wall in downtown Detroit. Like in Paris, you order your crepes at a little window, and can watch them being made in a kitchen that's just a little bit larger than my not so large bedroom closet.

After lunch, we made a quick trip to Detroit's Eastern Market. While the offerings are much slimmer in the winter months, it's actually kind of nice and not as overwhelming.

I could go on and on, but I think you're getting the picture. Saturdays, well, at least this one, are just the best.

Thawed out

Well, as I was falling to sleep on Thursday night, I was beginning to believe we were headed to Portland, Ore. Not for any particular reason, other than that I couldn't think of any other place in the country that might be experiencing a high of 50 degrees, and I was forcing myself to think out of the box, since Matt said I would NEVER figure out where we were headed.

When we jumped in the car on Friday morning, though, we began heading in exactly the opposite direction of the airport. So that eliminated Oregon. Matt pulled over at the Donut Cutter up the street from our house, because "we need snacks for the trip." How could I protest? I'll have a honey-dipped chocolate donut, please.

As we continued on our way, Matt asked me to pull out the U.S. atlas, as apparently he needed help navigating. His home state? That sounds suspicious. Then he said "What's that piece of paper," which lay on top of the state of South Carolina. Well, it happened to be my boarding pass for a flight to Charleston, SC.

Interestingly, over the past few weeks, Matt had listened to me moan over these photos of Charleston. I tried to not want to go, tried to be content with all the wonderful trips and things I have gotten to do this year, but that didn't get me very far. So I just tried to forget about what I had seen. After all, I had been to Charleston when I was young. I didn't need to go again, right?

Wrong! It was most certainly where we needed to go. Despite the fact that Charleston was experiencing record cold temperatures, we turned on the optimism switch and declared that we were quite fortunate to be skipping out on record cold temperatures in metro Detroit, where the weekend low was -15 degrees.

Plus, record cold temperatures in Charleston affords visitors like us plenty of time to walk a little, eat, eat, run, eat, eat, drive a little, eat, eat, run ... eat. That basically how the weekend played out. Oh, and we shopped.

Matt's coworkers told him he was setting the bar high when he planned a first anniversary trip to one of America's most romantic cities. They're right. But is that really such a bad thing?

(We didn't get too many good pictures, but I'll try posting a few more this week.)