Under Construction

It's certainly been a while, but I'm happy to report that I'm working on a web site revamp and will soon return to Biscotti and Blahniks. See you soon!

More to come

Peanut butter and jelly. Sonny and Cher. Carrie Bradshaw and Manolo Blahnik. Ashley and GPS.

I will admit that I have never been good with directions. My boyfriend always joked that he was going to get me GPS for my birthday until my parents actually did. Driving from my home to pick up contacts at Costco was suddenly easier. I could get from Royal Oak to West Bloomfield without getting lost. I didn't take the wrong Indiana toll road on my way to Chicago. GPS and I had the perfect relationship until I moved to Chicago. Suddenly I'm car-less and trying to navigate the El and bus routes on my own. Let's just say one of my proudest Chicago moments was giving my aunt and cousin legitimate directions back to their hotel...

It's been a learning process, but I have to say I'm slowly getting better. I took a cab to Halsted and Armitage last weekend and made it to my friend's place without getting lost. It might sound like a small feat, but to me it was the ultimate accomplishment. I felt it necessary to reward myself with a shopping trip, which brings me to my latest post... Lincoln Park shopping destinations!

I promise a longer post in the next day or so, but I have to take a moment to acknowledge Colorlab Custom Cosmetics. I will have more to report on this soon, but in the meantime, look this cosmetic company up! They are fabulous and I can proudly say I can find my way to their Lincoln Park store without a map.

Be it ever so humble...

Life in Chicago has been rather exciting. So far I've successfully navigated an Irish couple to the Sears Tower, caught up on the latest issues of CS, visited a green river and had Guinness poured in my eye on Saint Patrick's Day, not to mention I've eaten WAY too many Fox and Obel cupcakes. All and all it's been a delightful move, if a little harried.

I might still be living out of a suitcase, but that hasn’t stopped me from fantasizing about my yet to be found new apartment. After flipping through the latest issue of Domino, I can’t wait to decorate! I’m curious about grey painted walls (are they everywhere now?) and am ready to embrace pattern and reupholster vintage furniture. So before I go all Kelly Wearstler on you, are there any great Chicago home stores that I need to check out?

I know normally I come here with recommendations, but today I figure I'll shake things up a bit. If you know of anything fabulous and preferably fabu-less (remember I'm a writer) please let me know.

If I were your significant other, there would have been fights, wine induced phone calls and screaming matches by now. I bypassed them all and went straight to silence. I am sorry. I've been absent. I've been neglectful. But in my defense, I do have exciting news. In my long time away from biscottiandblahniks, I've been out of the country, accepted a new job, officially moved across state lines, and have been dealing with an extremely temperamental internet connection. Ok, so that last one isn't exactly exciting, but it seemed a key factor in my lack of posting. With that, I'm sorry. Let's get back on track.

On the Radar

What I'm reading this February...

Book
Around this time of the year, it’s easy to suffer from sugar shock. Chocolate in heart shaped boxes crowd window displays, Hallmark cards beckon, and Meg Ryan’s greatest hits seem to take over my television. I’m not saying down with romance; in fact, I love romance, I just tend to like mine with a grain of salt. Hear me out. Salt, in food terms, serves to intensify flavors. It brings out all the nuances and makes you appreciate the food more. Ok before this thought gets out from under me, I’d like to address a collection of love stories written for those who like their romance with a little salt. My Mistress’s Sparrow is Dead: Great Love Stories, from Chekov to Munro is a collection of 27 short stories edited by Jeffrey Eugenides. I think it can best be described in the editor’s own words:

When it comes to love, there are a million theories to explain it. But when it comes to love stories, things are simpler. A love story can never be about full possession. Love stories depend on disappointment, on unequal births, feuding families, on matrimonial boredom and at least one cold heart. Love stories, nearly without exception, give love a bad name… It is perhaps only in reading a love story (or in writing one) that we can simultaneously partake of the ecstasy and agony of being in love without paying a crippling emotion price.

Included in this anthology are works by Joyce, Faulkner, Kundera, Chekhov and many others. It is the literary equivalent of dark chocolate or straight espresso—bittersweet and satisfyingly good. But for those that like their romance sweet and their chocolate sweeter, you can feel good about purchasing this collection because all proceeds go directly to fund nationwide free youth writing programs offered by 826 Chicago.

A Mascara Snob No More

I admit it. I've been a snob. From the moment I tried my first Clinique mascara in high school there was no turning back. It's only been onward and upward since then. YSL, Lancôme, Chanel, I have been content to spend $26.50 on mascara. So when Cover Girl's Lash Blast mascara appeared on the market I was skeptical. How could this mascara possibly compare to my current Chanel Inimitable obsession? Determined to break through all the hype and forge my own conclusion, I ventured into my local Walgreens and came out brandishing a bright orange tube of mascara. Every day for the past month or so, I pull out the pleasantly plump wand and coat my lashes in Very Black. The formula is light and never clumpy or flaky and the secret, I believe, is in the brush. It's many bristles pull my lashes up and out, resulting in both gloriously full lashes and a change of heart. I have finally seen the light and it's plump and orange and available at the drugstore.

"I'm in love! I'm in love and I don't care who knows it!"

I apologize for quoting Elf, but it was the first phrase that popped into my head after seeing Marion Cotillard at the SAG Awards. I love how understated and elegant her dress is and how she exudes European charm while shying away from typical American excess. The color is unique and the fit is incredible. If La Vie En Rose made me want to run off to Paris and sing in the streets, then Marion Cotillard's Nina Ricci dress makes me want to swirl down a red carpet.

Bad gnocchi is like (fill in the blank)

According to my boyfriend, bad gnocchi is like Play Doh at the bottom of a pool. I don't even know what that means, but it certainly sounds disgusting, slippery and heavy. And yet it is an apt description of the gnocchi I had the other night at a restaurant that shall remain nameless. Venturing off the regular menu, I took a chance and ordered the special; never before have I been so deceived by a chalkboard! Expecting a pillowy plate of potato dumplings in a light sauce of wine and mushrooms, I was presented with a plate drenched in chunky tomato sauce. Ignoring my initial reaction, I thought perhaps this was one of those dishes that made up in flavor what it lacked in looks. Sigh. Sadly the presentation spoke volumes about the dish. The gnocchi themselves were large and perfectly formed, yet glutinous and chewy on the tongue. The sauce was way too heavy and seemed to be the kitchen's admonition, "Yes this dish sucks, but we hope you won't be able to tell." Adding to the general heaviness, was a large portobello cap placed lackadaisically on top of the meal.

One bite of this sad large gnocchi had me instantly wishing for a certain Italian kitchen and a bowl of its chef's pillowy soft gnocchi. Claudio's gnocchi was the stuff of dreams; supple potato-ey and tiny. He wasn't focused on size or aesthetics so much as taste. There would be no drowning of his dumplings in red sauce, no sirree. Melting a stick of butter infused with sage, Claudio served up a delicious and delicate sauce. After coating the gnocchi in the sage butter, the Italian chef then added a generous helping of Parmesan and announced with childlike wonder, "No cream!" Smiling, Claudio handed out the finished gnocchi to his eager pupils. It was easily dispatched.

Back in the States, staring at the offensive red gnocchi plate, I longed for Claudio and his potato dumplings. Then and there I decided if revenge is a dish best served cold, well then gnocchi is a dish best served with butter. And serve it I shall in all its buttery sage glory.

gnocchi with butter sage sauce
Adapted from Claudio's Figline Valdarno Kitchen

Boil 9 small potatoes in their skins for 45 minutes or until soft. (You can use golden or white but do not mix; white takes longer to cook.) Peel off skins and place potatoes in bowl. Mash with fork until smooth. Add 150 grams (3/4 cup) flour, 2 egg yolks and a pinch of salt. Incorporate with fork. Continue to mix dough by hand. Flour a hard surface as well as your hands. Roll dough into log & chop into gnocchi. Boil in salted water for 30 seconds. Remove and place on oiled surface.

Butter-Sage Sauce
Add ½ stick butter, ½ c. water and a few sage leaves to pot. Add gnocchi and cook until butter melts. Boil down until creamy and add a big helping of Parmesan cheese at the end.