Hit the road, Jack

Vail exit off I-70, Feb 2008 ~ by Katie

I'm heading up into the mountains tomorrow morning for a big work conference. Hubby Love is going to be the one having all the playtime, however, as the speakers are booked too solid for me to have much ski fun.  {Mr. Lucky-Pants.} On the flip side, at least I know I'll be coming back to a great roommate at night! Back late next week, folks. 

You're gonna shoot your eye out!

Just like Ralphie I admit that things that should not be done are always the most fun. When I saw the video I thought "What's wrong with that".



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And this is why I might become a Darwin Award.

Almost here...

Only a few more weeks until I become even less usefull.

Compliments, creations

Primitive  hiking loop above Double O Arch, Arches Nat'l Park, December 2008 ~ by Katie

In December, Hubby Love and I took off to Arches National Park. This afternoon I'm daydreaming about all the awesome hikes and wishing we could go get moderately lost in those back-of-beyond slot canyons. Something beautiful is around every corner.  As my girl Becca would say, 

"Two thumbs up, God. Nice job."

Anthropologie hack

Boyer Cream Cardi, via Anthropologie

I love me a good deal. I also love me some Anthropologie purchases. As the wiles of retail fate would have it, the two can often be mutually exclusive unless one is really on the sales rack game. : (  

When I clicked over today's post at one of my blog-friend-of-a-blog-friends {would that make us blends?}, I was mightily pleased to find some visual treats and a splash of inspiration. Behold:

Kathleen's creation, via Grosgrain Fabulous blog

Inspired by an Anthropologie sweater, Kathleen over at Grosgrain Fabulous went all thrifty and creative, and she fabricated a doggone fine knockoff for $6. Good grief, the last $6 clothing purchase I made was a solitary pair of tights at T@rget; certainly nothing to write home about! 

At any rate, here's a tad of fine ingenuity in the face of belt-tightening times.  Go visit Kathleen and get your dose of pretty. 

Waiting for spring

It's been vacillating between balmy and blustery here in Denver. February can be so indecisive. Last year around this time, we were planning a trip to Seattle. {One of my favorite places ever.}

While there in the throes of spring, I spent a day buzzing around the Skagit Valley tulip festival. 

Sheer magic.

Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, April 2008 ~ by Katie

Even with a thorough dunking after I fell in the mud, the day was still awesome. 

Is anyone else hankering for some springtime yet?

Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, April 2008 ~ by Katie

Weekend recap: Chili Cookoff

Hubby Love and I hosted a chili cookoff this weekend. A few friends, some good-natured competition, lots of cold tasty beverages, and we had a delicious soiree on our hands. We sent out e-vites about 1 month in advance. The day of the party, Bart made his signature cornbread, I whipped up some outrageous brownies, and we set up several long tables and some seating in the den.

Food and utensils were lined up buffet-style in the kitchen, and it was a night of smooth sailing from the hostess standpoint.

We cooked up this.

And munched on these.

These make for yummy sips.

Once again, our local party supply store came through with fabulous prizes. Each attendee received a super-secret ballot on which to cast their vote. Unlike last year's chili challenge champ, our winner this year received an actual non-booby prize in addition to their rad ribbon...a gift card to our favorite house of sweet eats.

{I was tempted to vote for myself, just so I could win.}

I scratched a creative itch over the past week by assembling a looong party garland. {Decorating the ceiling always makes things a little more festive.} See here for directions on how to make your very own.

To all you chili-loving folks out there, I highly recommend hosting one of these get-togethers. The very casual-ness of chili lends itself to a laid-back night and some cozy good times during this cold snap.

I even went so far last year as to find us chili cookoff t-shirts...

Why yes, that IS the chemical structure of capsaicin on the front. So we're nerds. Nerds who happen to like chili.

As if there aren't enough eyesores in the world

Dear Design Folks at Vickie's Secret,

Your new spring swimsuit catalog landed in my mailbox this week. 

After perusing it, I'd like to share my initial impression.

No. 

Just.....NO.

It's a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. {And not a very cute one, at that.}

Sincerely, 

Me

Deadlines, Anyone?

Between revamping my resume, jamming out job applications, doing a hazardous materials inventory at work (SO not covered in nurs!ng school), filling out annual evaluations, and getting the house ready for the chili cook-off we are hosting this weekend, I feel like I am running on adrenaline and fumes. I keep reminding myself that there are far worse things in life than staying out of trouble. (Not that I object to getting in a judiciously placed bit of trouble here and there, mind you.) 

What keeps you going when you are running a quart low on energy?

I shouldn't have asked

Every morning I ask the residents I work with to read a chest x-ray.  We go over how to properly diagnose all the problems that are seen.  In order to do this we do it systematically so that nothing is missed.  As a joke one morning I used my own chest x-ray.

The first diagnosis, "a large amount of subcutaneous tissue".  Loosely translated this means REALLY fat.  

I guess the joke was on me.

What the world needs

This is awesome. Be sure to watch it with the sound on.

Watch CBS Videos Online

How I Know

"Sensual" in red quasar, by Stuart Weitzman Shoes

There are some things in life that are fact. No ifs, ands, or buts. No need to question. No doubts. Fact #1: I adore shoes. I won't go into the depth of my feelings, but rest assured ~ they run hot and deep.

At a point about two years ago, one of life's curveballs had me struggling in a lot of doubt and sadness. I lost my head a little one day, and in an unforseen fit of self pity and impromptu indulgence, I ordered myself a pair of red shoes. Red satin, three-inch-heels, peeptoes, with little sparkly crystals on the vamp. 

They were perfect. They were sexy. They fit like a glove. 

They were $250.00

No, that is not a typo. Two hundred and fifty smackeroos. And though the economy then wasn't quite the abysmal mess it is today, that is still a heck of a lot of money to spend on shoes, perfect or not. I plead temporary selfish insanity. The shoes came, and I opened them. Hubby Love took one look at the invoice and would have swallowed his tonsils if he still had them. I tried them on, stroked the gorgeousness longingly, and promptly packed them back up for the return trip to sender. 

And that is when the remarkable thing happened. My frugal, practical, level-headed husband put his hand on mine and said, "Keep them. They make you happy." {I was back in my right mind by this time, so I overrode him and sent the shoes back for a refund, but that is not the point.} It took a seismic wave of compassion for him to say what he said. He tried to understand what I was experiencing and where I was coming from, and he stretched completely out of his own comfort zone to do it. This is only one of the actions that firmly cement how I know Bart is the one for me.

Fact #2: That man loves me far more than I understand or can ever quite reciprocate. But I am elated to have the rest of my life to try and match his love. 

He is perfect for me. He is sexy. Our lives fit one another like a hand to a glove. 

Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I love you even more than shoes. 

Dreamin'

"Colette" bed, from Crate & Barrel

My beau and I like to cruise furniture stores now and then, playing the "If I Had $1,000,000" Game. We take turns picking out furniture for the Someday House, our pocketbooks remain intact, and we have a bit of fun learning about each other's tastes. Everyone wins {except for the poor salesguy}. I recently went to visit this lovely bed in person at its retail residence. It meets many of our criteria: no foot board (ever the one to rebel quietly, Hubby Love hates the thought of constrained feet), clean styling, padded for cozy propping-up and reading in bed, and nickel accents. She is a Goldilocks of a bed--juuuust right. 

Sigh. I think if she lived at my house, I would become a hermit. Drape her out in puffy white comforters and call in well to work for a month. Heavenly. For a super-tasty, non-husband-approved vision in pink, check her out below. Mmmmmm.

Let Them Eat Cake

To quote my Hubby Love, we made a Mell of a Hess out of the kitchen last night. In honor of our friend's un-birthday, there were small indoor explosives, a huge pot of chili, and a psychedelic cake. As we cut into the goodness and joked about letting all folks eat a good dose of cake, I thought to myself:

"Self, if you post photos of this on the heels of your last baking binge, people out in Blogdom are going to think you eat nothing but cake."

And You People might be right. Or it might be that we all just really like to talk about cake around here. Maybe. Sorta. At any rate, I might be temporarily grounding myself from baking. {Just to let my pancreas recuperate and my one-track mind get off the cake train...or until I need to buy more friends with bribes of baked goods.} In the meantime, check out the oh-so-happy results of our Mell of a Hess...

Psychedelic Un-Birthday Cake, February 2009 ~ by Bart

Brought To You By the Letter C

There are good cakes, and then there are good cakes. This is a story of the latter.

Setting the scene: prep work for this confectionary experiment found me in a liquor store on a snowy day, searching for a particularly unfamiliar ingredient. Hubby Love and I are from teetotaling families, the both of us, and neither one of us imbibes Adult Beverages. Don't know much about them either. I was, therefore, at the mercy of the barely-English-speaking lady behind the counter.

Me: I'd like a small bottle of bourbon, please.

Liquor Store Lady: Here you go {handing me a teensy vessel labeled "Whisky"}.

Me: Umm, thanks, but I need bourbon.

LSL: Yep.

Me: This says it's whisky.

LSL: {Looking at me like I am an idiot} Yep.

Me: {Feeling truly lost} I really just need some bourbon, and I'll be out of your hair.

LSL: {Sounding exasperated} Bourbon IS whisky.

Me: Ooooo-kay. {Still confused}

End of scene.

I later consulted friends who are far more well-versed in the world of boozedom than I. Turns out, there is a particular distilling/refining process that turns some kinds of whisky into bourbon. I still don't quite have a handle on it, but bottoms up to all you aficionados out there.

So I forked over my $1.62 and got on my way to bake my Cake of Sin {Clarification: Sinful as in hella big calories, since science tells us that all the ethanol of bakes out. Riiiight. Feel free to enlighten me as to where I am headed and why I am in this handbasket, but only after you have sampled the fabulosity described below. I'm fairly sure the folks Down Below already have a seat warming for me anyway.}

The consensus: this recipe is ridiculously amazing. It is very nearly a flourless cake, and is so dense and velvety that it almost melts in your mouth--no exaggeration. There is no need to frost this little beauty. If true love has a flavor, I just found it--very dark, rich, complex, silky, and not too sweet. For the chocolate devotee in your life, make them oh so happy by serving up a sliver of this. Make it for Valentine's Day. Or for Tuesday. Or for I'm Making An Impressive Dinner Day. Just make it.

We are liquor lightweights, and neither Hubby Love nor I could taste the bourbon. {Of course, we didn't know what we were looking for either, so we may not be the best judges.} A taste-testing friend swore she could feel it "burning on the way down", but I call Drama Princess on that count. Next time around, I don't plan to bother with the bourbon, and you shouldn't feel the need to use it if that's not your style. It didn't add anything special to the palatal experience, and it tends to be an out-of-the-way ingredient. If you do roll the way of the hard stuff, though, rum or even a dash of rum extract might play a good flavoring substitution. So grandma says.

Tip: If you don't have a 9 x 3 inch cake pan, use a standard 9 x 2 inch pan and line the sides with a collar of upright 3-inch-wide strips of greased wax paper or parchment paper.

Bourbon Chocolate Cake

From The Best of Fine Cooking, Chocolate Edition, Winter 2006

Bourbon Chocolate Cake, January 2009 ~ by Katie

11 oz. semisweet baking chocolate, chopped {Use best quality possible ~ Callebaut or Valrhona are excellent. Baker's brand is quite affordable, easy to find and did the job.}

6 oz. (12 Tbs.) unsalted butter

6 large eggs, separated, at room temperature

3/4 cup packed light brown sugar

1 oz. (1/4 cup) all-purpose flour

1/4 cup bourbon

1 tsp. pure vanilla extract {I like almond extract for a different kick}

1/2 tsp kosher salt

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and heat to 350. Butter a 9 x 3-inch cake pan {or line a shallower one on the sides}. Line the bottom of the pan with a round of parchment paper and butter the parchment. Set the cake pan in a roasting pan large enough to accommodate it.

Melt the chocolate and butter together, either in a double boiler over medium heat or in the microwave in 30-second bursts, stirring between each heating. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

With an electric mixer {a stand mixer with whip attachment or a hand mixer}, beat the egg yolks with the brown sugar on medium speed until very pale, thick, and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce the speed, add the chocolate mixture, and mix just to combine. Add the flour, mixing just to combine and scraping the bowl as needed. Blend in the bourbon and vanilla. Transfer to a large bowl and set aside.

In a clean, dry mixing bowl with clean, dry beaters, beat the egg whites with the salt on high until they hold soft peaks, 1 to 2 minutes. With a rubber spatula, fold one-third of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then gently fold in the remaining whites. Scrape the batter into the prepared cake pan.

Set the roasting pan on the oven rack and add enough warm tap water to come halfway up the sides of the pan. Bake until the top feels set, 40-45 minutes. Remove the cake pan from the water bath and run a paring knife around the inside of the pan {or the inside of the parchment collar} to loosen the cake and then let cool completely in the cake pan on a rack. When cake is completely cool, loosen the sides once more with a paring knife. Cover the cake with a serving plate and invert the cake onto the plate. The bottom of the cake is now the top. Peel off the parchment. {Don't worry if the surface looks a little ragged; you'll be dusting with confectioners' sugar.}

To serve: Top with sweetened whipped cream and dust with confectioners' sugar. Accompany with a large glass of milk.

Land of a Thousand Cakes

In our house, we are big proponents of scientific method: hypothesize, formulate a plan, test and re-test the theories, and evaluate the outcomes. A good experiment should be able to be replicated for later study. A great experiment yields consistent results. One of my co-workers just had a birthday, and when I asked what sort of cake she wanted, she said, "Chocolate!". (Stay with me here, folks--this comes full circle.) When I realized that I didn't have a go-to chocolate cake recipe, there was only one thing to do: start some full-on kitchen experimentation. We have been in test kitchen mode for several weeks now, churning out various chocolate-laced confections. Testing for texture, flavor, crumb consistency, presentation, and the all-important ease of the recipe. I know. Hard-core science. A tough task, but someone had to do it! (And several other someones cordially helped us out by taking the taste-testing very seriously, then dispatching the remaining baked goods to willing palates. Waste not, want not, good people.)

We found some real gems along the way, but two beauties in particular stood out. My criteria required a performer that was dark chocolate flavored, not too sweet, densely & smoothly textured, and nowhere near dry. This recipe may read a little long, but it is easy as proverbial pie to mix up. Presenting for your consideration:

Fastest Fudge Cake

From Best of Fine Cooking, Chocolate Edition, Winter 2006

Fudge cake, Jan 2009 ~ by Bart

4 1/2 oz. (1 cup) all-purpose flour

1 oz. (1/4 cup plus 2 Tbs.) unsweetened natural cocoa powder (not Dutch-processed)

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. table salt

1/4 lb. (1/2 cup, or 1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

1 1/4 cups packed light brown sugar

2 large eggs, lightly whisked

1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup hot water

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and heat the oven to 350. Grease the bottom of an 8 x 2 or 9 x 2-inch round cake pan or line it with parchment. (Lining with parchment paper will make life so much easier when you unmold your cakes. I say do it! Just trace the outline of your pan on parchment paper--found near foil and plastic wrap in the store--cut it out, and place in the bottom of your pan. Spray well with baking spray.)

In a small bowl, whisk the flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Sift only if the cocoa remains lumpy after whisking. In a large bowl, combine the melted butter and brown sugar with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula. (The butter shouldn't be too hot, or your egg whites will solidify when you follow the next step.) Add the eggs and vanilla; stir until well blended.

Add the flour mixture all at once and stir just until the flour is moistened. Pour the hot water over the batter; stir just until it's incorporated and the batter is smooth. (I did all mixing by hand with a whisk and a wooden spoon. While a hand or stand mixer can be used, take care to avoid beating too much air into the batter. If overbeaten, the cake will rise too quickly and sink on itself while baking.)

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 30 minutes for a 9-inch pan; 35-40 minutes for an 8-inch pan. (I routinely set the timer for 5 minutes less than called for and then check for doneness. It's much easier to add time if needed than to un-bake that extra few minutes, and results are usually a bit more moist if baked on the low end of the timing scale.) Let cool in the pan on a rack for 10 minutes. Run a thin knife around the edge and invert the cake. Peel off parchment paper if necessary. Invert again onto the rack and let cool completely.

Once cool, set the rack over a baking pan or sheet of foil. Pour warm ganache (recipe follows) over the cake and use an icing spatula to spread it over the top of the cake and down the sides. Let set for about an hour before serving. (We like a little extra goo, and we're not patient when it comes to dessert. Seemed a waste to let all that perfectly good ganache run off, so we just drizzled the cake on its serving plate and ate up.)

Ganache

Yields 1 1/2 cups

1/2 lb. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

1 cup heavy cream; more as needed

Granulated sugar (optional)

Put chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl. In a small saucepan, bring the cream to a boil. Pour the hot cream over the chocolate and whisk gently until the chocolate is completely melted and smooth. (If using 70% bittersweet chocolate, the ganache might be a bit thick; add more cream, a tablespoon at a time, to thin it. You may also want to add several teaspoons of sugar as desired when adding the hot cream.)

So. Let's discuss amongst ourselves. The evaluation step of the scientific process yields this conclusion: If you are not a dark chocolate fan, you may want to lay off the ganache. Or sweeten it up with some granulated sugar. Or pick a different topping, like buttercream or cream cheese frosting. Or ice cream. Or your sweet, sweet love muffin. However you roll, it's all good. (Myself, I would shoot dark chocolate through my very veins if I could do it, and this cake is a perfect venue to ingest some deep, dark goodness.)

For my birthday girl friend, I did a variation on the above recipe. I wanted a layer cake, and I wanted it tall. You know, the fancy, glass-case-worthy sort of cake. I prepped three 8-inch round cake pans and doubled the batter recipe, dividing it evenly between the three pans. Baking temps were the same, and I gave the cakes 20 minutes in the oven. After a thorough cooling, I stacked them, frosting between the layers and over the whole cake with pink-tinted cream cheese frosting. I think Martha would be proud. Have you ever engaged in kitchen experiments, serial or otherwise? What did you make?

Tomorrow: The Cake That Will Make You Want To Cry With Happiness, as seen below. Buckle your seatbelts, chickadees.

Bourbon Chocolate Cake, January 2009 ~ by Katie

Take one & call me in the morning...

Today was Tuesday, and that is generally a good thing.

Wanna know why?

Tuesday nights are rehearsal nights.

The night I get to pretend I am artistique while I go make music.

The night I enjoy because it lets me work next to some really amazing, talented people.

The night that lets me pretend I am a diva, because if I had time to squeeze in

another life, it

would involve a career in music.

Tuesday is also the night that I don't get home until 10:30. I usually have to cruise around the house a little bit so I can wind down before bed. (Rehearsal gets me a little wound up. Actually, a lot of things get me a little wound up.) And tonight...oooohh tonight.

On this particular Tuesday after rehearsal, I sat at a busy intersection waiting for the red light to change. A beat-up minivan pulled up next to me, and the passenger waved. I waved back. The van leaned, lurched, and rocked with three active, busy people.

Three active, busy people who sprayed my windshield

with silly string, threw the can at my car,

and then drove and wove like maniacs, endangering

me and the drivers around us.

My happy Tuesday night?

Out the window, along with a few

choice comments about

Little Reprobates and Calling the Authorities.

Cue:

My ensuing flood of rage.

(I am my father's daughter in some measure, it seems.)

And a pointless call to Denver's Finest.

("Umm, okay...do you want me to let the officers know when they check in?")

And a self-contained diatribe on Young Whippersnappers and Little Craps.

(Because nobody else was there to listen. Lucky for them.)

I really just wanted to pop those kids.

Right-left, one-two, give 'em a pop in the nose.

Or on the behind.

Gaaaahh. Tonight, I am in need of a little hypertension control. Lower blood pressure = calmer people and all around better quality of life for most of us. I have heard that being around a pet can lower one's blood pressure, so in an effort to put away my angry eyes, I've been experimenting on that theory.

Meet Sallie.

sal, january 2009 ~ by katie

This is my pet, my pal, my bossy little fur-person. (Actually, sometimes I'm not too clear on who belongs to whom.) She has been there through my first job, my first apartment, our wedding, several moves, a huge career change, family meltdowns, and all the other curve balls life has seen fit to throw. I try to be a good owner. I provide the tummy rubs, catnip, and the toys that she dutifully ignores. Even so, I'm sure there are times when her feline blood pressure gets elevated and she would like to pop me. Like during a recent visit to the vet that resulted in the ultimate kitty ignominy:

sallie, december 2008 ~ by katie

Yup, that is indeed a nekkid little belly on my kitteh.

She had an abdominal ultrasound.

(To hear Sallie tell it, it was actually abominable.)

By a real, live, $$feline radiologist$$. (Who knew?)

And she required stem-to-stern "grooming".

(Our friend suggested a series of teeny bikin!s.*)

Sallie has been a trooper. She has shown patience and forbearance, and she hasn't misbehaved one bit with all the vet visits as of late. She's been a supportive companion to me and I am trying to be a supportive owner for her. Here I sit, still a little riled up at the punk kids from this evening, and she lets me pet her while I iron out the mental kinks and try to settle my blood pressure and my indignant rage. She is soothing my savage beast. I don't mean to wax cheesy, but this little animal makes me a better person. So, in light of a recent beautiful admonition given my friend's father-in-law (our Denver dad), I wish those Whippersnappers some of what graces my life.

I hope that after the Little Craps are finished driving around and

terrorizing/vandalizing,

they go home to someone or something that loves them,

and that they love in return.

I hope they can have the opportunity to learn empathy and responsibility,

and that maybe they can earn the satisfaction of being trusted,

whether by a friend or their family, or even

a pet.

Most of all, I hope they have good mothers who will deliver the solid pop on the behind that I cannot.

* I am in fact capable of spelling; I just choose to engage in a little creative typing to avoid having creepy searches happen on to our innocent little blog.

Football injury

Several friends and youth in our church gather for flag football every Saturday. On those rare occasions when I am not working or skiing on Saturday I will go show off my mad skillz (yes, I am being sarcastic). A couple of weeks ago I leaned to catch a pass, however I forgot that my legs were not fast enough to keep up. Note to self: The ground is HARD. Since then my left knee has been growing in size until last night.

If you don't like needles STOP reading now!!!

Supplies were obtained and a small procedure performed on myself. Pictures speak louder than words.

The before ~ all sterile

Making sure I feel no pain

What am I doing?

No more pressure!