bergerka

I'm with you. I like to torture the little bastards. Kerry, this is a terrific blog, and I am now absolutely dying to make that lemon souffle pudding. K

I will never again stagger into the kitchen (nursing one beautiful bitch of a hangover, where DID we end up last night?) to make coffee and light the burner (Europe: we use a lighter) without first checking to make sure the dishcloth I used last night to wipe up the alcohol I ummm spilled on the counter (hey. It was right after we came reeling in at 3 am and decided to have a nightcap. Gimme a break) is far, far, far away from the open flame. FOOMP. Woke me right the hell up, I can tell you. K

fill the crepes with dulce de leche and serve with apple slices on the side. Of really good apples. (idea freely pilfered from Pampa)

My ritual has changed considerably now that I don't have to be up at the crack of a disgustingly early hour every morning (and now that I no longer live with a Rancilio). I have discovered the joy of moka coffee (and am hankering after a Mooka). Angela and I are the only two coffee drinkers in our four-person household (Holli drinks tea and George...well, I have no idea what George does, as I don't usually see him in the morning. Coca-cola, maybe. Could be crack, although he's awfully laid back for that), so whichever of us makes it out of bed first (usually her. I have no idea how she is so alert before noon) fires up the moka pot. We've been trying various coffees from our local Corte Inglés (we don't have a grinder, so all pre-ground), but Angela just brought back some El Caracol, which you can only get in the Canary Islands, apparently. It's pretty awesome stuff, full of deep coffee flavor, not bitter, hardly needs any milk at all. I still heat some milk in a little saucepan and add it with one teaspoon of raw sugar, as I like my cafe con leche. I carry my pretty coffee mug (it's white with blue flowers, handmade in Ouray, Colorado. I also have the cream pitcher and sugar bowl. Used to have another mug, sadly, it broke) out onto the terrace, look over the wall at the late-morning Madrid foot and car traffic on our street (thankfully much more of the former than the latter) and sip coffee and enjoy the breeze and sunlight till my brain cylinders start firing and I'm finally really awake. Usually Angela and I go through at least two moka pots between us (she's in cleaning frenzy at the moment...just defrosted the freezer, which was probably a good idea because see George has this thing where he puts a coke in there to cool and then forgets about it and, well, kaboom). Today I have a rehearsal at 12:30, after which I'll probably go with David the pianist and my friend Paco for another coffee (no, Paco, we will not go to Starbucks. I did not move all the way to Spain to go to #!%^$^#$ STARBUCKS, when now I live in the country with the best coffee I have ever had). What's really fun is when we're both sitting in the living room with our coffee, working on our computers - she translating television scripts into Spanish (she's a translator by trade) and me, at least yesterday, translating obscure French poetry into Spanish for a concert (cuz, yanno, I prefer my audience to KNOW what I'm singing about, although I gotta say this Carême stuff was hard enough to translate into English the first time, let alone Spanish now). We sit there and type, sip and curse in several different languages. I plan to bring back some ground, vacuum-packed fresh-roasted beans from my dad, next time I hit AZ. When I'm on a job, it's a different story - breakfast is provided in all the hotels I've stayed in, so if I can force myself out of bed before they start serving (not an easy task when the opera started at 10pm and ended sometime around 1:30 and you didn't get back to the hotel till 3 and you were too wired to sleep till 4:30 or so), I head down, grab a yogurt and some fruit and let SOMEONE ELSE make my two cafes con leche for me (ok, bane of my life: hotels with those frigging push-button machines that make some beverage that is DEFINITELY NOT COFFEE, I don't care what it says. In those cases, I will actually head outdoors and find a restaurant and order coffee from the bar). When I was on a job in Italy in July, I used to stagger down to the Caffe Gran'Italia in the piazza and order a cappuccino. And every. single. frigging. morning. I had to explain myself to the waiter, as ordering cappuccino after 10 am is apparently frowned upon (my explanation: I live in Spain. This IS morning. And you are not nearly cute enough to keep giving me that doubtful look before I've had my first coffee). K, sipping a second - or is it third - cup

Dude, that's like...whoa. Random. You know you're an eGulleter when you wake up late, put on your workout clothes, make some coffee and sit down to just QUICKLY check eG... two hours later you still haven't exercised, although you have put a serious dent in the plate of peanut butter cookies.

Galletas de mantiquilla de cacahuete, Madrid style! I ended up using Mom's recipe, which has been my favorite since I was little. In spite of having no measuring cups or spoons (you don't want to know. Till today, we had no mixing bowl. How the hell did my compañera de piso survive four years in this apartment with no mixing bowls?) and having to improvise the measurements and figure out the temperature conversion (thank goodness for online converters), Angela (one of my rooomates and fellow lamenters of the lack of kitchen supplies) pronounced these excellent (and peanut butter really seems to be a very American taste, I have noticed that, like root beer, it doesn't appeal to many European palates). Here's the recipe: Mix thoroughly: 1/2 cup soft shortening (may be half butter) 1/2 cup peanut butter 1/2 cup sugar 1/2 cup brown sugar 1 egg Sift together and stir in: 1 1/4 cups sifted flour 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 3/4 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt Chill dough. Roll into balls the size of large walnuts. Place 3" apart on a lightly greased baking sheet. Flatten with a fork dipped in flour in a criss cross pattern. Bake until set, but not hard. Temperature: 375 degrees Time: Bake 10 to 12 minutes Amount: about 3 dozen 2 1/2 " cookies (I never get that many.) This recipe may also be made honey in place of brown sugar. Substitute 1/2 cup honey for the brown sugar and reduce the shortening to 1/4 cup.

If anyone else has favorite peanut butter cookie recipes, couldja post or PM them? I have FOUND A STORE THAT SELLS PEANUT BUTTER and plan to indulge my craving tomorrow when it's open. Peanut butter cookies are the perfect dessert after steamed mussels, right? ...right? ...right? K

Even worse, when I posted that last night, I had just walked in from part one of a date (drinks) to change my shoes (broke a strap, that's ok, they gave me blisters anyway), and was on my way out to part two (tapas and wine. A lot of tapas. A lot of wine. All of which explains why I didn't move till noon today. Best choices: the morcilla frita and the chorizo en sidra), and somehow found time to check into eG. Now THAT makes me an eGulleter. Picture. There was distinctive headgear. K

How about when you walk up to a total stranger at the Shake Shack and say "excuse me...are you so-and-so from eGullet?" the REALLY scary thing is, it was he. K

I am a huge fan both of the classic peanut butter cookie (complete with waffley pattern on top made by your fork) and of Baskin-Robbins' (and yes, it has to be theirs) Peanut Butter & Chocolate ice cream. :wub: In fact peanut butter, In-n-Out burger and REALLY spicy foods, are pretty much the only things I miss about living in the USA. K

am I sick? I think a confit de canard curry sounds kind of delicious. K

Oh, lordy, yes. On one family trip from Phoenix, AZ to San Diego, CA, we stopped in the middle of the desert somewhere at a "family" restaurant, not a chain, although the name now escapes me. I have never in my life had food that awful. Not before, not since. The FRIED CHICKEN WAS INEDIBLE. Do you know how bad fried chicken has to be before I won't eat it? I distinctly recall this chicken smelling...BAD. Do you know how bad fried chicken has to be to SMELL bad? Maybe it was the oil they were frying in, maybe it was old chicken. Whatever it was, it was nasty. For the record, I wouldn't precisely call all of them meat-and-threes, but the family oriented chains ARE based around them. K

What a sweet story. What is a chipwich? At first, I thought it was a chain/fast-food restaurant but now I'm guessing it's a chip sandwich? ← What CaliPoutine said, with LOTS AND LOTS of ingredients that don't exist in nature. they're delicious.

This is a FABULOUS blog, naturally. I only have one question. What, exactly, is icky about Chipwiches???? Chipwiches are delicious!

Ok, so like..has Haagen-Dazs always made Panna Cotta with Raspberry flavor? Because I found some in the Corte Ingles and put it on a roasted peach. Wow. Mouthgasm. K

Damn, Megan, those scones are making me drool and I just ate dinner. I made coffee. a lot of coffee. In the industrial-size moka pot. Then I drank it all, with a yogurt mixed with some muesli. K

Oh my god, Giangrossi is addictive (I live really close to the one on Alberto Aguilera - oh um...by the way, I moved to Madrid). I have to say, though, if Sunday counts as this week my best experience was a restaurant in Pendones with Eric_Malson and a friend, way to hell and gone up in the mountains, the name of which has flown out of my mind, driven by the heat in the city - where I had BLOODY INCREDIBLE sopa de pescado, fabada asturiana, cabrito (OH MY GOD) and picadillo. I was nearly sick, I was so full, but ohhh it was worth it. :wuv: PM me if you're in Madrid & wanna have lunch - I'm off to Italy for three weeks on Saturday to sing, but will be around before July 1 and after July 23. K

Best. Kids' menu. Ever. Landmarc I'm telling you. Order the pigs in blankets and just TRY to keep the grownups away from them. Plus you can get mini-cones of ice cream for dessert! Seriously, slkinsey and I went here for dinner with friends who have a toddler, and the food for the young'un was so delish we wanted to order it ourselves. K (why yes, Landmarc IS one of my favorite restaurants, how could you tell?)

I would just like to say that between the jamon iberico, the coffee (awesome) and the chocolate, Spain is an excellent place to have PMS. K

← Wait...are you saying that's NOT what it's about? Huh. K

would you want to eat meat from an animal that had been largely fed quarter pounders???

slkinsey and I hit Beacon for their special V-day menu with champagne pairings - yummmmm (who knew there was a champagne for venison? ), and we struck up a good conversation with the sommelier. It was a nice, low-key way to spend an evening. Oh, and roasted meat ROCKS.

Thank you for causing my "laugh till you cry" moment of the day. :laugh:

*drinkgasm* oh my god, where the hell can I get one?

a great big cocktail, involving gin and whatever. then another one. then some goddamned Ben & Jerry's. Or maybe a bacon cheeseburger or fried dumplings, 5 for $1, so at least I can compliment myself on being frugal. then another cocktail or two or five. yeah, I drink when I'm pissy. So?