Thursday, September 29, 2011
It's the Fig's Fault
It all started with a fig. And a recipe I saw on design*sponge. It sounded so yummy, and cozy and it's Indian Summer and it's going to be cold soon.
Anyone that really knows me can testify to the fact that I can not for the life of me follow a recipe. Maybe it's the early influence of chef Andy Schloss, who took me under his wing in the kitchen at Philadelphia's renaissance restaurant In Season and taught my naive recently-graduated-from-Miss-Porter's-School-lily-white-ass a few things about life and how to get my hands dirty. Lessons having nothing to do with following a recipe. Maybe I am a rebel that does not like to comply with anything.
Plus, I am getting really sick of seeing everything so perfectly styled and unreal. I mean when I cook I make a mess and it involves dishes and the licking of spoons and drips on the silk dress I should've taken off. I mean, cooking is messy, like life is messy. Houses get messy too and I am sick of seeing perfectly styled houses too, and then the ones that are supposed to be imperfectly messy, but are over- styled as well. It's all too Perfect Home Perfect Life for me.
I am deviating...so the figs and design*sponge and my quest to follow a recipe all coalesced in my tiny little very messy kitchen and then Hallie got home, tired and ravenously hungry, so I thought, hmm, steak would be good. At the end of the day here is what I served for dinner. It didn't look chic after I cooked it, but it sure tasted good. And best of all, I got props from my peeps!
courge soup with shallots and creme fraîche
figs roasted with rosemary in honey and maple syrup
Nairns mini oatcakes
steak, medium rare with salt and pepper
Rhone tap water