JAZ

Here's the misunderstanding. I wasn't flouring multiple pans, I was flouring one pan with 12 molds. Like 12 really intricate cupcake molds. Trying to get the flour up the sides and inside tube of each little mold was virtually impossible, and that's why I'm willing to risk the spray.

Last night's dinner: As I mentioned earlier, since I'd bought some fabulous smoked salmon at a farmers' market on Thursday, I decided to make Sara Moulton's salmon chowder. Because I rarely follow recipes exactly, I made a few changes. I'd also bought some leeks, so I used them instead of onions. The leeks, sauteeing in butter. I used a combination of red potatoes and russets, because that's what I had. The potatoes, ready to go in. Because I was snacking on some of the smoked salmon and crackers while I was prepping, I decided I had to have a martini to go with it (martinis go really well with smoked salmon, if you didn't know). This glass is part of a set my parents got ages ago and, as far as I know, never used. They're from a time when glasses were designed for a one-shot drink -- they're just under three ounces to the rim. I love martinis, but for me, a little martini goes a long way -- and I don't like them warm. So these glasses are perfect. Back to the chowder. I added a quarter cup each dry vermouth and dry sherry along with the milk, because it seemed to need something, and both of those go well with salmon. I also seasoned it with white pepper, celery salt and dry mustard. The fresh salmon, ready for "poaching." It was pretty thick, so it didn't cook all the way through in five minutes, as I found out when I cut into it. So back in went into the chowder to finish cooking. Meanwhile, the smoked salmon and dill were awaiting their turn (sorry for the blurry photo). With the sherry and vermouth, I didn't think the chowder needed the acid of the lemon juice for balance, and wanted to avoid the curdling problem that Sara mentioned. So I simply added a little lemon zest for flavor. The finished chowder. And a caesar salad. I'm not crazy about the dressing recipe I used for the caesar. The consistency was good -- I hate really thick caesar dressings -- but it was too lemony and tasted of raw garlic. I know caesar dressing is supposed to be garlicky, but I don't usually use raw minced garlic in my dressings -- I find it too harsh. Ordinarily I macerate the garlic in the acid, but that doesn't result in enough garlic flavor for caesar, I don't think. Maybe poaching the garlic first would mellow it? Does anyone have a really great recipe for caesar salad or dressing?

Most of the commercially available spray "release" products will leave a gummy residue on your cookware and bakeware over time. If you have to, melt the butter, brush it into the mold, let it cool, and then sprinkle the flour. SB (has trouble spelling raisins, but likes to eat them) ← I know that about Pam and similar sprays, but didn't know it about the combination products. I could have sworn that Cook's Illustrated recommended them for bundt pans, but maybe the staff hadn't looked at prolonged use. In any case, I did use melted butter brushed into the molds. That wasn't the problem -- the problem was trying to get the flour evenly distributed in each of the molds without making a complete mess. Mybe if I'd filled each of them completely with flour and then flipped the pan over a sheet pan or something to catch the excess it would have worked.

I think maybe a pastry bag would work. I thought of that as I was trying to fill them. I also think the next time I use the pan I'll get that Bakers Secret or whatever it's called -- the combination oil and flour spray. It was really hard to get the little forms buttered and floured evenly.

Great idea. I've always meant to use more recipes from that book, so this will be a good start. Thanks!

With the storms this year, it hasn't been a great crab season. If I can make it down to a place that sells live crabs and they have any, I'll pick one up. But the last time I tried that after a series of storms, it was a lost cause. I hate raisins. Here's how much I hate raisins. That's it for today. I was going to post about dinner, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow.

When I was still working in the office job (I was the marketing director for a regional commercial real estate company), I started volunteering as an assistant for the cooking classes at Sur La Table. We didn't get paid, but we did get a discount on merchandise and a free class once in a while. Over a couple of years, I assisted with classes by Anne Willan, Shirley Corriher, Alice Medrich, Pamela Sheldon Johns, and Hubert Keller, to name a few. I really enjoyed it and learned an amazing amount about both cooking and teaching. I got laid off from the real estate job and decided to try to find a job in a food-related business. I interviewed for several positions, including one as the internal communications manager for Dreyer's (the ice cream company). It seemed like the ideal job -- great company, easy commute, nice boss -- but during the interview it struck me that there was just no way I could stand to write another employee newsletter, even if it meant free ice cream. So I freelanced a little, and worked with some of the instructors I'd met through the store, and I also started working for real in the culinary program at SLT, assisting the program manager. I probably would have stayed with it, but the program at the time was going through a lot of upheaval, and it didn't seem like it would be the kind of job I wanted -- it was getting much more administrative. But I liked the store, and I wanted to stay there in hopes that I'd be able to start teaching some classes of my own (which I did eventually). I also wanted to spend more time working on my own (food-related) writing projects, so it was nice to have the flexible hours. I didn't expect to stay so long, but it's worked out well. Oh, except for the huge salary cut I took. But I got a lot of free and discounted cookware, so maybe it evened out.

I realized that with confessing my gingerbread mishap, I neglected to mention the rest of lunch. It turned out to be a beautiful day here and it was even fairly warm over in Berkeley, so we had lunch outside (yesteday, it hailed; today, a picnic. Gotta love the Bay Area.) Our book club hostess grilled chicken thighs and served a curried rice salad with cashews. The chicken was done perfectly, and the salad was good, despite the presence of raisins. At the BART station in Berkeley, there's a big flea market every Saturday -- not primarily food vendors, but there are a few take-out trucks and a small produce stand. When I got back to the city, I had to stop for cat food for the boys -- there's a pet store on my way home. I also stopped in the cheese store/deli next door. This is one of the places I shop on the Glen Park side of the hill -- I can usually make it before closing unless I get off work really late. I've been going there long enough that I know the owner, who's really nice about staying open a few extra minutes for me, if necessary. This shop has a huge jam selection, for some reason (this is about a third of the collection). Not that I buy a lot of jam, but I think it's great. I was going to stop for a bottle of wine at the corner store (this one really is on the corner), but the bus was coming, and since I wasn't crazy about the prospect of walking up the hill with eight pounds of cat food, my cheese store purchases, and the dry cleaning I'd picked up, I skipped the wine. This bus comes so seldom, I consider it a minor miracle if I can actually catch it.

Okay, it looks like marrow bones are on the schedule. Safran, here's a shot of some of them. I'll photograph the rest tomorrow.

Ghostrider, I'm in the Noe Valley area, close to Glen Park, which is in the southern part of the city -- sort of out toward City College, if you know that area. Cali -- I have been to Savor a couple of times for brunch, but not in a while. I'll have to go back sometime when I'm up there with some extra time. I remember having a southwestern version of eggs benedict that was great.

. . . and now those as unobservant as me come to realize what was missing in your kitchen tour: a dishwasher. ← Right. I've had kitchens with and without dishwashers, and with is definitely better. But as any big city apartment dweller can probably attest, they're few and far between, especially in older places. And I have that other coveted city appliance -- a washer (and dryer too) -- right outside my kitchen door in the laundry room. Overall, if I had to choose, I'd take the washer/dryer over the dishwasher any day. But I have to say that doing dishes sometimes seems endless -- I just get the kitchen clean, and it's time to start the next cooking project. I need kitchen elves.

Backing up a little bit: I don't know why more people don't use this technique, because it's fabulous. Janet was part of the kitchen crew that hot-smoked short ribs for staff meal at Varmint's Pig Pickin'. Here's what ronnie_suburban had to say: ← Dave and Ronnie are right. Don't get me wrong -- I love braised short ribs. But roasted (or grilled/smoked) ribs are, like, the essence of beef. And as Ronnie said, the texture is great.

I have to go start dinner, but in the mean time, here's tonight's cocktail. When I got home today, I found that my new copy of Dr. Cocktail's Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails had arrived (I had a copy that disappeared, so I finally got around to replacing it). I opened it at random, and found the "Communist" -- gin, orange juice, cherry brandy and lemon juice. I had everything, it sounded good, and I'd never heard of it. All good reasons to make it. It's not something I could make very often -- it kind of tasted like tart Hawaiian punch when made according to the recipe. I added some Carpano Antica and increased the gin, which made it better (I think) -- a little more complex. But it's beautiful, isn't it? I used blood orange juice, which accounts for the color.

Oh, I noticed in telling my gingerbread story, I forgot to include the link to the recipe: Grammercy Tavern gingerbread. It really is great -- I'll definitely try it again with the correct amount of baking powder, and in a bigger pan to start. Then if that works, maybe I'll try the small ones again. I just have this vision of the little cakes, topped with pear or apple compote. Perhaps it will remain one of my dream recipes. So, some responses to comments and questions: I used to live with a wine and spirits broker; when we met he was also bartending. I know it seems as if I got interested in cocktails because of him, but it's really not the whole story. At the time, I liked wine although I didn't know much about it; I knew a lot about beer and Scotches, but not much about cocktails. I drank martinis, gimlets and scotch on the rocks. One day at the bookstore I got a copy of Cocktail by Paul Harrington, which, sadly, is out of print. I just started mixing the things I could with what I had on hand -- also started buying more products. At the time, I had no idea that the cocktails in the book were not things (usually) you could just walk into the neighborhood bar and order, but I found that out pretty quick. I also discovered that with a few exceptions, I could make better drinks than most bartenders at the places I went to. I guess the rest was history. I talked my way into teaching a couple of classes at Sur La Table -- fortunately they were popular. Last year I moderated a panel discussion on the history of the American cocktail with Robert Hess (drinkboy) and Dave Wondrich (Splificator) as my panelists. That was great. I like cocktails because it's so easy to experiment, and if you screw up, you only have to toss a couple ounces of alcohol -- it's not like messing up a foie gras terrine, or lobster thermidor.

So: the Gingerbread Saga. The idea began a few weeks ago, when I realized that my book club meeting would take place during this blog -- I offered to bring dessert so I'd could bake something for it. With various allergies and dislikes to take into account, I decided on gingerbread. One of the factors was that I had a couple of pears that were way past their peak, and I thought I could make a pear compote to go with the gingerbread. But I wanted to find a new recipe because although I like the one I've always made (my mom's recipe -- pretty standard molasses-and-oil-based dense, moist cake) I was hoping to find something a little more exotic. A quick search unearthed the recipe from Gramercy Tavern, which was similar to mine (also oil based) but also included stout and a more interesting combination of spices. It was supposed to be made in a 10-cup bundt pan, but I had this new mini bundt pan that I wanted to use. So, I thought I'd give it a trial run before the real thing, but when I started getting everything together for it I realized I only had two eggs instead of the three called for. I decided against cutting the recipe down, because I'm not great at that, so I went down to the closest corner store the next morning and bought eggs. Then I discovered that my baking powder was too ancient to use, and since none of the close stores carry that, I had to wait for a trip to Safeway. By the time the next weekend rolled around, though, the momentum was gone, and one day after another went by without my making the recipe. Pretty soon, the blog was about to start, and I still hadn't made it. I planned to make it yesterday, but, well, I didn't. (Who knew how long it would take to resize and upload all those photos?) A sane person would have just bought tarts from the really great bakery and relaxed this morning, but not me. I got up early and started. First step: boil the beer and molasses together. (You can see here what I explained earlier about being able to rest the lid in the handle.) It turns out that this doesn't take very long to reach a boil, and when it does, it expands a lot in volume. Looking back on this, I can see that I should have given up at that point. The recipe was cursed. Because after that I mismeasured both the flour, which I caught (I just read it wrong), and the baking powder, which I didn't. I'd grabbed the teaspoon measure when I thought I had the half-teaspoon and simply didn't realize it until I was spooning in the spices. Most of the baking powder was still on top, so I scooped some (half, I hoped) off. Again, I don't know why I just didn't stop. I guess I hate to waste beer. So I mixed everything up and ladled it into the little mini bundt pan. It turns out to be very difficult to get batter into the little mini bundt pan, but I did it and got them into the oven. Did I mention that I had no idea how full to fill them? I didn't have a clue. So I just guessed. I guessed wrong. I could have left them, but I was too stubborn. I tried to get one out, but it crumbled -- what a surprise. And of course all of this took much longer than I thought, so I was getting to the point where I had to decide what to do. Despite the terrible appearance, the cakes tasted really great, so I figured I could do some kind of layered dessert with the chunks of cake. I packed up the whole pan, grabbed the pear compote and picked up some whipping cream on the way to the BART station. But after all that, dessert was great. Chunks of gingerbread and pear compote. Topped with whipped cream. Now I have to clean the kitchen, and then I'll answer a few questions before dinner.

Sorry I haven't had time to get to everyone's questions and comments. Abra, take a look at this Absinthe topic from the Spirits and Cocktails forum, and I'll get back to you with some specific suggestions later. Chris, I promise I'll have some cocktail book suggestions too, but in the meantime, you could check out this topic. I was planning to post about making gingerbread this morning, but a series of, um, difficulties arose, and now I'm running really late for my book club, to which I'm supposed to be bringing the little mini-bundt gingerbread cakes. We'll see if they turn out, and if not, well, thank god there's a really great bakery on the way to BART that makes wonderful individual tarts. I will explain, in detail, with photos, the disastrous morning I had when I get back this afternoon. While I'm gone, I wonder if I could ask everyone for some suggestions about the rest of the week. I've got the ingredients for Sara Moulton's Smoky Salmon Chowder, which she mentions here in the Chowder Cook-Off, so I'm planning on that tonight. I'm also planning to try Russ Parson's "Cowboy Cassoulet" (discussed here). But I still have a few extra days to account for. I have a Hearthkit insert in my oven, and I keep swearing that I'm going to work on perfecting pizza crust, so that's one possibility. I just got a Kitchenaid pasta attachment, although I'm not sure I can make pasta and take pictures at the same time. Earlier in the thread, someone asked if I was planning to get marrow bones -- I love them, and it wouldn't take much to talk me into getting some. Anything else? I wasn't really planning on a restaurant, but I could stop on the way home from work at someplace interesting. Anything else? (Please, no baking requests. I've had my disaster for the week!)

They're Demeyere -- Sirocco line, and yes -- I love them. The sautepan and saucepans in the pictures have a thick copper disk bottom, with stainless inside and out. (There's also a layer of something magnetic in there, so the pans can be used in induction burners). With the copper disk, they're very responsive to changes in heat, which is great, but I think it's the little things that put them way ahead of, say, All Clad. Both the pan handles and the lid handles stay cool, and everything is welded on instead of riverted, so you don't have rivets to collect crud and make them impossible to clean. They have a sharply defined lip, so you can pour from them easily. And if you need to remove the lid while you're cooking, there's a slot in the handle where the lid handle fits so you don't have to lay it down somewhere (I'll take some photos so you can see what I mean). Sorry! End of commercial. I got them as a set (a special deal from the manufacturer when the rep came to the store for a demo). There's a 5.5 qt. stockpot shape, and a 2.5 sautepan shape. Honestly, I don't use the small one much at all, but the great thing about the set was that it came with an extra lid -- not for pressure cooking, but just a glass lid that fits either pan. So if I make soup, for instance, and want to reheat it before serving, I have a plain lid. And that also means that I can use either pan without using the pressure function. The 5.5 qt one, for instance, is a good size for pasta. I wish I were better at that (cleaning as I go). I try, but it always seems that the closer I am to dinner time, the less time I have for cleaning, so I put it off. The sink is usually completely full of dishes by the time I'm done. And that's one disadvantage of having so much cookware and kitchenware -- I hardly ever have to use the same thing twice, so I usually don't, which means twice the dishes at the end of the night. However, the way my kitchen is laid out makes it a little easier to get prep stuff organized. I prep at the long yellow counter because that's where the light is best, and then as I get ingredients ready to go, I set them on the wood counter by the stove. If I have something that needs to set or rest, I can use the breakfast bar at the end of the kitchen, so it's out of the way.

While I did the preliminary prep for dinner, I had a variation of a Lillet-based drink from an old Martha Stewart Living magazine. It's a nice aperitif -- lighter in alcohol than most cocktails. 2 oz. Lillet Blonde 1 oz. gin 1 oz. orange juice dash bitters small handful of basil leaves Place all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker with lots of ice and shake hard. Strain out into a tall glass filled with ice and top with soda. Dinner started with short ribs sprinkled with salt, smoked paprika and a little ground chipotle. After they sat for an hour or so, they went into a low oven (275 degrees) for a couple of hours. I've almost always braised short ribs, so learning about slow roasting them was sort of a surprise to me. But it's a great way to cook them. Toward the end of the cooking time, I made a glaze of demi-glace, Dijon mustard and maple syrup. The glazed ribs went back in the oven for another 45 minutes or so, while I finished the rest of dinner. But first, another small cocktail. The Alfonso Special from CocktailDB. Again, with more vermouth than gin, it's a lighter cocktail, but very well balanced. Not as sweet as I imagined. To go with the short ribs, I decided on sweet and sour cabbage, which I haven't made in ages. I watched my mom make it so often I don't need (or have) a recipe. Start out by sauteeing some onions in butter. Add red cabbage, vinegar (I used apple cider and port vinegars), brown sugar, salt and pepper. I also added some diced apple because I had it around. Cover and simmer until tender. With some chipotle-laced mashed sweet potatoes, that was dinner.

Okay, here's the first round of kitchen pictures. (Maybe later I'll take pictures of the insides of the cabinets.) The cabinets at the end are my pantry, for the most part -- I use the upper shelves, which I need a stepladder to reach, for storing some seldom-used dishes and other things I don't need very often. The breakfast bar and stools are a set I bought for a previous really small kitchen that had no counter space. It doesn't get too much use now because the light isn't great there and it's so far from my kitchen tools, but it's nice to have a place to set the stuff I pull out from the cabinets. The cabinet on the left by the stove holds about two thirds of my cookware -- saucepans, skillets, stockpots, saute pans and a few miscellaneous pieces. Almost everything, actually, except for my Le Creuset. For the size of my flat (less than 600 sq. ft.), my kitchen is pretty good sized. As you can see, it's long and very narrow in parts -- galley style, I guess. It's great for one person (or the right two people), but with the range and sink across from each other in the narrowest part of the kitchen, you have to like your kitchen partner pretty well. Here's a better shot of the range area: When I moved in, the range was all alone there; a friend helped me put together the counter next to it, which is just a John Boos cutting board on legs, with brackets attaching it to the wall. You can't see it, but there's a shelf underneath where I store cutting boards and my pressure cookers. I also have a microwave cart, which hasn't actually ever had a microwave on it but does hold my trio of appliances -- the blender, Cuisinart and Kitchenaid mixer. Behind it, you can see my spice shelves. I have a theory about San Francisco houses. It seems to me, from very unscientific observation, that probably half of the houses in the city were constructed with built-in ironing boards in the kitchens or laundry rooms. And my guess is that only a very small fraction have kept them intact with ironing boards. All the rest now only have an alcove like the one here, which most people seem to use for spices or display shelves. I use mine for spices. Overall, I'm pretty happy with the kitchen -- I've lived in places with bigger kitchens that still didn't work as well as this one. Sure, it has really ugly yellow 60's style countertops, but I can live with that. The floor is also ugly, but it's mercifully soft -- I've dropped bowls and even glasses and they've survived. The rest of the kitchen, and the dining nook. I love the shelf that runs the length of the dining nook, because it holds a lot of my cookbooks -- they're far enough away from the kitchen that they don't get greasy and dirty, but close enough to get to easily. The reference, research and "literary" food books live in this bookcase, near my desk, which is right outside the kitchen (the beauty of having a small place is that nothing is very far away from the kitchen). But I think I either have to find more space, or stop buying books. That's the end of the tour. I have to go wash dishes, and then I'll post about dinner. And cocktails!

After a quick stop at the corner market (that's actually in the middle of the block) for a bottle of wine, it was time for the produce market. They carry a lot more than produce, as you can see from the pictures. Today I didn't have too much to get -- potatoes, milk, half-and-half, lemons, limes, and a small red cabbage, along with some lighter items like herbs. Between the butcher and the produce store (with the non-corner store for a small selection of things like paper towels, soap, cat food and other grocery items as well as beer and wine), I can do a lot of my shopping close by. The main constraint is what I can carry up the hill, and somehow I always seem to push it to the limit. These shops, however, close by the time I get off work, so on work days, they're not an option. ON work nights, if I need to pick things up, I go to the stores on the other side of the hill, which I'll show you tomorrow. Now, though, it's time to finish getting dinner ready.

Some background on my shopping strategy: San Francisco, like most densely populated cities, is divided into neighborhoods that usually have their own shopping area -- some are better than others, or maybe just focused differently. Some of the larger neighborhoods have several small shopping areas in addition to the main one. And regardless of where you are in the city, there are usually numerous "corner stores" (not always on the corner, but that's what I call them anyway) -- they vary in size and merchandise, but all of them rely primarily on liquor, wine, beer and cigarettes to make it. I live in between Noe Valley and Glen Park and can walk to either shopping area (although it's a long walk to the main shopping area of Noe Valley, 24th Street). I'm near the top a hill that divides the two neighborhoods, so the walks are mostly downhill on the way there and uphill on the way back, which pretty much sucks considering that I'm always walking uphill laden down with shopping bags. Oh well, I guess the views count for something. I can also walk either way to get to public transportation that takes me downtown to work -- it's a shorter walk down the Noe Valley side, but a much longer ride, so I almost walk up over the hill to take BART to work. Occasionally I'll take the Noe Valley route home if I have a particular errand to run that I can only do on that route. But when I'm not working -- just shopping -- I usually walk down to the butcher shop and produce market that are a few blocks away on that side of the hill. That's where I went this afternoon. First, the butcher. Drewes Brothers gets mixed reviews in the California forum, but I like the shop. The quality is high, and although they don't have a huge selection, they'll order anything. They're always willing to cut meat to order for me, and will also do things like cut up roasts into stew meat for me. Plus, you have to love a place with stuffed birds of prey. And PO boxes as well. You can also see that they carry a few additional products. They have their own line of sauces, which I haven't tried. They have some wine, a few perishables, and charcoal briquettes, which you can't see in the picture. They sell frozen marrow bones as "dog bones"; I'm not sure if I'm the only one who buys them for dinner (the bags next to the bones are full of ground scraps -- also sold for dog food). Today, I just picked up a piece of salmon for tomorrow's dinner, and some bacon. Then, it was on to the produce store.

I got the bar second-hand from a friend of mine (and my guess is that they also bought it second hand). I'd always coveted it when I'd visit her and her husband, and told her that if she was ever going to get rid of it, I wanted right of first refusal. So, around eight years ago, they were remodeling. She called to say it just didn't fit in with their new look and to ask if I was still interested. Took me about 2 seconds to say yes. I'll definitely give you some cocktail recipes. I work part time at Sur La Table, near Union Square downtown. I don't know about photos of the store, but I can give you a tour of some of my cookware and gadgets, certainly. I'm off to a couple of my favorite markets while it's not raining. When I come back, I'll tell you more about work and shopping, and show you some pictures of the markets and my kitchen.

Thanks, everyone. Let's see: I'm not sure how much of the city I'll be able to explore with you all -- the weather has been wet and nasty, and I don't think slogging around in the rain would be fun for any of us. But I'll do what I can in between downpours. The cats are not particularly camera shy, so I might be able to get a few more shots of them. (The dishes are cool, aren't they? I thought I had the only cats around that ate out of Kotobuki dishes, but I guess I was wrong. I can't believe Johnnyd's cat used to have the same dish.) As for shopping, I'm lucky to be pretty close to some good markets and have several options for larger grocery stores that are fairly convenient. Since I'm only shopping for myself, it's not as difficult as it would be if I were shopping for a family. I'll get to shopping strategies in a minute, but first, brunch. It's a day off for me, and after a couple of not-great days, I decided to treat myelf to a Bloody Mary. To be precise, I suppose I should call it a a Caesar since I use Clamato. But then again, because I use gin, a Red Snapper might be a better name. A Snappy Caesar, maybe? Oh course, if I called it that, no one would know what I was talking about. I'll stick with the Bloody Mary. All mixed up and ready to go. The finished drink (not a very great photo; my apologies). On to the food. Nothing too exciting -- some leftover carrot soup, half a cheese twist I got yesterday at a little farmers' market a couple of blocks from where I work, and some smoked salmon spread from the same market.

I thought about calling this "Meet Me at the Bar" because, well, I do have a bar in my living room, but I don't want people to get the wrong idea, and besides, my Mom might be reading this. (Actually, my parents know I have a bar in my living room. I've had it for years.) Then I thought about calling it "A Girl and her Cookware" because, having worked at a cookware store for more years than I can believe, I have collected a frightening amount. So why "Park and Shop"? People of a certain age (women, probably) might remember the old board game by that name. Or maybe not -- maybe my sister and our friends were the only ones who played that strange game. In brief, here's an overview. You had two markers: one car and one pedestrian. You drew cards that told you which shops you had to visit. You started out with your car, and "drove" to one of several parking lots, depending on where your shops were located. Then you used your pedestrian to visit all the shops. (I know, we're not talking the excitement of buying property on Boardwalk, but hey, we liked it.) Of course there were squares you could land on that sent you to jail (I don't remember why -- jaywalking?) or otherwise set you back. But mostly, the strategy involved trying to find the shortest, most economic way of visiting all the shops on your list, and that's why I always remember it, because in many ways, that's my shopping life today. Back when I worked in an office and had a civilized hour for lunch, I often used that time to run as many errands as possible, and that's when it first came to me that I was living the "Park and Shop" game (without the parking, but close enough.) Now, since I am without a car, much of my food planning revolves around trying to figure out exactly that same thing -- how to get to all the shops I need to without making unnecessary side trips, taking impossibly long bus routes, or ending up with so much stuff I can't carry it. But "Public Transportation and Shop" doesn't quite have the same ring, does it? So "Park and Shop" it is. I'll talk more in a while about the shops I visit, how this whole process plays out day to day and how it influences my cooking style. But first, here's the way I start all my mornings, feeding the boys. Damien, Mookie, and Felix having breakfast. Max generally prefers private dining. Once they've eaten and I've let them out, I can concentrate on caffeine. I have a 10-cup programmable Krups machine, but I've found that my little one-cup Melita, which started life as a travel coffee maker, is more manageable for just me. I drag out the big black machine only when I have company. So, if you'll let me drink my coffee, I'll be back with more about the week ahead (kitchen pictures, too).

Chenery Park in Glen Park has a kids' night every Tuesday. In addition to the regular menu, they offer a kids' menu with smaller portions of their popular dishes (lower prices too). They try to set it up so that parties with small children are all seated in the upstairs section, keeping the rest of the tables a little bit quieter. (You can check out their "Kids' Club" on the web site.)