I've posted before about visiting the Queen Creek Olive Mill, and about their Blood Orange Olive Oil. When Mama was in town for Thanksgiving, we went again, and the one item I had decided I would not leave without was this orange oil. I was so excited that I tried out one of the Mill's recipes tonight!
4 oz unsweetened chocolate
1 oz bittersweet chocolate
1 c all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
4 eggs
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2 c butter
2 c sugar
1 c walnuts, coarsely chopped (I used pecans.)
1/2 c blood orange olive oil (You can order this from the website.)
I love this recipe for two reasons: 1) I love the combination of chocolate and orange; and 2) I automatically am intrigued by any baker who wants me to use an entire tablespoon of vanilla. I love vanilla, and I almost always add more than a recipe calls for. With this one, I imagined that the recipe's creator and I were kindred spirits.
The batter looks like nothing so much as fudge. So here's what you do to make it:
Preheat oven to 350. Line a 9 x 12 baking pan with parchment paper (I skipped this and sprayed the pan with Baker's Joy instead). On low heat, melt chocolate in saucepan, stirring constantly (I used the microwave). Set aside to cool. In a separate bowl, sift flour, baking powder, and salt. Melt butter, and add oil. Add one egg at a time. Add in vanilla. Add the chocolate. Fold in the dry ingredients and nuts. Do not overmix the batter. Pour into a pan, and smoothe off the top. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the brownies pull away from the sides of the pan.
02 December 2009
30 November 2009
A Decidedly Un-belle Saturday Afternoon Activity
I spent a chunk of my weekend replacing my downstairs toilet's innards. Not as much fun as it sounds, and let's face it, it sounds fairly awful. But, being cursed with the world's worst landlord, and a job that requires me to work Monday through Friday, and quite often the better part of Saturday and Sunday, I was left with little choice other than to educate myself on the finer points of bathroom plumbing. Luckily, it didn't take that long, and even more luckily, the directions were very specific and helpful. I am, as it turns out, pleasantly surprised with my skills in the home improvement arena, a subject about which I heretofore remained willfully and blissfully ignorant. I'm reasonably certain that belles aren't meant for this type of labor.
Pumpkin Poundcake
This is, quite possibly, the best thing I've ever made. I followed the recipe from The Gourmet Cookbook, except that I added vanilla (good vanilla, from Williams-Sonoma) even though it didn't call for it, and I played around with the spice quantities a little bit (a little more nutmeg and cinnamon than what was called for, a little less cloves). "Yum" is all I have to say. And judging from the emptiness of the plate when I left from work, my co-workers agree. I think the secret is the Granny Smith apples. Their tartness works perfectly with the warmth of all the spices, and they keep the cake really moist.
Oh, Anthropologie, I *heart* you.
But why must you be so expensive? I decided to take a few minutes out of my day to peruse the website, and now I NEED all of these shoes:
Bouquet-of-Roses Heels
Open Wing Heels
-Love, love, love. Designed by Chie Mihara.
Rippled Bow Booties
Until-We-Meet Again Booties
-These are my favorites. They are just gorgeous. I'm convinced that I could win any trial at all, if only I could wear these boots. Chie Mihara at her best, I tell you.
Mallard Heels
-Yes, I know those are little ducks. I love these shoes in spite of it. Chie Mihara again.
Carved Celadon Heels
-So, so pretty. I love a T-strap.
Wishing Well Flats
Blithe Ballerinas
Modern Matriarch Boots
Draping Orchid Spectators
Brimming Button Heels
Black Magic Heels
-I also love a d'Orsay pump. And Chie Mihara. Clearly.
Bouquet-of-Roses Heels
Open Wing Heels
-Love, love, love. Designed by Chie Mihara.
Rippled Bow Booties
Until-We-Meet Again Booties
-These are my favorites. They are just gorgeous. I'm convinced that I could win any trial at all, if only I could wear these boots. Chie Mihara at her best, I tell you.
Mallard Heels
-Yes, I know those are little ducks. I love these shoes in spite of it. Chie Mihara again.
Carved Celadon Heels
-So, so pretty. I love a T-strap.
Wishing Well Flats
Blithe Ballerinas
Modern Matriarch Boots
Draping Orchid Spectators
Brimming Button Heels
Black Magic Heels
-I also love a d'Orsay pump. And Chie Mihara. Clearly.
24 November 2009
Barney's, New York (in Scottsdale...finally!)
Wonderful. Lovely. Heaven.
I don't have to say anything else.
I don't have to say anything else.
Brunch
My mom is visiting for Thanksgiving. Sunday, we went to church (briefly...we left after about 15 minutes because the service was so awful) and then decided to go to brunch. Best idea ever. We went to Rita's Kitchen at the Camelback Inn. Yeah, sure, it's expensive, but I don't think I've ever enjoyed an eating experience more. Live entertainment outside, a table that was inside but right at the edge of the inside/outside border, perfect weather, mimosas, and delicious food. I'm wondering whether the Camelback Inn needs an attorney-in-residence. Because if they do, I'm their girl. Can't wait to try out the spa.
26 September 2009
Dolce & Gabbana L'Imperatrice 3
aka: my new favorite perfume
I am a loyal devotee to Burberry perfume. I own about 5 of their scents, and really, they know what they're doing, those folks at Burberry. Burberry Classic is my everyday, and I love Touch nearly as much...but I'm just as fond of Brit Sheer, London, and The Beat. Today, though, I went to Sephora to return a lipgloss (I know, miraculous) and fell in love with this new D&G perfume!
I haven't been able to find a description that explains to me the smells I am smelling, so I and my novice nose will do our best to tell you how wonderful it smells. It's fruity and a little bit floral, but I don't get the feeling that I constantly need to sneeze, as is true with many florals (Marc Jacobs, I'm talking to you here). Also, I'm not worried that a swarm of bees will stalk and kill me because of an overpowering fruity smell (yep, DKNY, that's you). I can distinctly smell watermelon and a flower that I *think* is jasmine, but there's another fruit I can't quite identify (apples?) and something deeper (musk perhaps) that evens it out nicely, and frankly, makes me want to bathe in this stuff.
In case you're wondering, I LOVE the way I smell right now. ;-)
I am a loyal devotee to Burberry perfume. I own about 5 of their scents, and really, they know what they're doing, those folks at Burberry. Burberry Classic is my everyday, and I love Touch nearly as much...but I'm just as fond of Brit Sheer, London, and The Beat. Today, though, I went to Sephora to return a lipgloss (I know, miraculous) and fell in love with this new D&G perfume!
I haven't been able to find a description that explains to me the smells I am smelling, so I and my novice nose will do our best to tell you how wonderful it smells. It's fruity and a little bit floral, but I don't get the feeling that I constantly need to sneeze, as is true with many florals (Marc Jacobs, I'm talking to you here). Also, I'm not worried that a swarm of bees will stalk and kill me because of an overpowering fruity smell (yep, DKNY, that's you). I can distinctly smell watermelon and a flower that I *think* is jasmine, but there's another fruit I can't quite identify (apples?) and something deeper (musk perhaps) that evens it out nicely, and frankly, makes me want to bathe in this stuff.
In case you're wondering, I LOVE the way I smell right now. ;-)
21 September 2009
Amanda, this is for you.
This was too long to post as a comment on your blog, so I put it here. Your post, and your memories of vanilla ice cream and graham crackers made me think of something that happened to me recently.
I was sitting in my living room the other day, praying about a trial that I have coming up that involves the death of two children. I pray a lot about work, just because it’s stressful, and oftentimes, I’m dealing with victims who aren’t cooperative, or defense advocates who seem to think it’s fun to be aggravating just for the sake of being aggravating. This case is a special one, though. It's been pending for over a year now, and I really want a conviction, not for myself, but because it will mean justice was served for those two babies. I haven't known how best to handle a few difficult issues that have arisen, and finding myself at an empasse, I did what you've done: give it to God.
The scripture that I was led to during my prayers was Jeremiah 29:11 (the Bible actually opened to this passage on its own). I thought it was odd when I read it initially: “I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I first found it utterly unhelpful, and I thought that there must be another scripture on that page that I was meant to read. After all, the reason that I have the case at all is because these children are dead; these children have had their futures taken from them.
As I often do when thinking about children, I then started thinking about Grandmamma, which initially made me sad all over again. But then, I got the most peaceful feeling; I just knew – in that moment – that God's Will will be done with that trial now, even if it's not the ending I foresee or would prefer. He has a plan. He knows better than I do. And no matter what happens, it will be for the best because it is His plan, not mine. He gave me the reassurance I needed with the trial, and He gave me some very sweet memories of my grandmother as a balm to heal some of the hurt of thinking about these two babies who never had anyone like her in their little lives.
I'm saying all that to say this: I know God gave me Grandmamma's spirit to help me through that moment. I know it because of how my dinner turned out that night. One of the saddest things for me, usually, about making scrambled eggs and grilled cheese is that I can’t make them taste like Grandmamma’s tasted. But on that night, both were perfect. I haven’t felt that peaceful in a long, long time.
I was sitting in my living room the other day, praying about a trial that I have coming up that involves the death of two children. I pray a lot about work, just because it’s stressful, and oftentimes, I’m dealing with victims who aren’t cooperative, or defense advocates who seem to think it’s fun to be aggravating just for the sake of being aggravating. This case is a special one, though. It's been pending for over a year now, and I really want a conviction, not for myself, but because it will mean justice was served for those two babies. I haven't known how best to handle a few difficult issues that have arisen, and finding myself at an empasse, I did what you've done: give it to God.
The scripture that I was led to during my prayers was Jeremiah 29:11 (the Bible actually opened to this passage on its own). I thought it was odd when I read it initially: “I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I first found it utterly unhelpful, and I thought that there must be another scripture on that page that I was meant to read. After all, the reason that I have the case at all is because these children are dead; these children have had their futures taken from them.
As I often do when thinking about children, I then started thinking about Grandmamma, which initially made me sad all over again. But then, I got the most peaceful feeling; I just knew – in that moment – that God's Will will be done with that trial now, even if it's not the ending I foresee or would prefer. He has a plan. He knows better than I do. And no matter what happens, it will be for the best because it is His plan, not mine. He gave me the reassurance I needed with the trial, and He gave me some very sweet memories of my grandmother as a balm to heal some of the hurt of thinking about these two babies who never had anyone like her in their little lives.
I'm saying all that to say this: I know God gave me Grandmamma's spirit to help me through that moment. I know it because of how my dinner turned out that night. One of the saddest things for me, usually, about making scrambled eggs and grilled cheese is that I can’t make them taste like Grandmamma’s tasted. But on that night, both were perfect. I haven’t felt that peaceful in a long, long time.
13 August 2009
The Lace Reader
by Brunonia Barry
Perhaps some of you remember that I set out to read this book a few months back. What can I say? I lost track of time, and I forgot about it. Then, I was preparing for a child abuse trial, which took all of my time. And then I lost the trial on directed verdict, so I had to grieve for a while. And so finally, I picked it up again last week (which is interesting, since I’m again in the full throes of preparing for another child abuse trial).
About the book: all the reviews are right. The worst thing about this book is that I didn’t have time to read it all in one sitting. Now that I know how it ends, I’m anxious to reread it so that I can fully appreciate the author’s pacing and plot development. Speaking of the plot, you are perhaps wondering what a lace reader is. I’m not sure that they actually exist. At any rate, according to the author, lace reading is form of fortune-telling; the readers “read” Ipswich lace, or bobbin lace, and look for pictures or visions about a person’s future. The story is set in Salem, so the city’s history weighs heavily on the plot, but it’s not so overpowering that it becomes the same old witches-in-Salem story that we’ve all heard 100 times.
Towner Whitney, the main character, returns to Salem following her great-aunt’s death, which happened under somewhat suspicious circumstances. What follows is a series of strange events that awaken tragedies and mysteries from decades before. The pacing is perfect. The narrator begins the book by telling us her name, and then immediately tells us that she is a liar. So, from the get-go, we are wondering what is really happening. And, if something isn’t really happening, then is the narrator lying to us, or is there something affecting her perception?
After reading the book, I’m now really fascinated with the process of lace making, and I’m thinking of teaching myself how to do it. We’ll see how that goes. None of you better be rolling your eyes.
Perhaps some of you remember that I set out to read this book a few months back. What can I say? I lost track of time, and I forgot about it. Then, I was preparing for a child abuse trial, which took all of my time. And then I lost the trial on directed verdict, so I had to grieve for a while. And so finally, I picked it up again last week (which is interesting, since I’m again in the full throes of preparing for another child abuse trial).
About the book: all the reviews are right. The worst thing about this book is that I didn’t have time to read it all in one sitting. Now that I know how it ends, I’m anxious to reread it so that I can fully appreciate the author’s pacing and plot development. Speaking of the plot, you are perhaps wondering what a lace reader is. I’m not sure that they actually exist. At any rate, according to the author, lace reading is form of fortune-telling; the readers “read” Ipswich lace, or bobbin lace, and look for pictures or visions about a person’s future. The story is set in Salem, so the city’s history weighs heavily on the plot, but it’s not so overpowering that it becomes the same old witches-in-Salem story that we’ve all heard 100 times.
Towner Whitney, the main character, returns to Salem following her great-aunt’s death, which happened under somewhat suspicious circumstances. What follows is a series of strange events that awaken tragedies and mysteries from decades before. The pacing is perfect. The narrator begins the book by telling us her name, and then immediately tells us that she is a liar. So, from the get-go, we are wondering what is really happening. And, if something isn’t really happening, then is the narrator lying to us, or is there something affecting her perception?
After reading the book, I’m now really fascinated with the process of lace making, and I’m thinking of teaching myself how to do it. We’ll see how that goes. None of you better be rolling your eyes.
04 August 2009
The Dawn Patrol
by Don Winslow
Another book that I'm reading for a book club. The guy at the bookstore described it as "surfing crime noir." I commented that that was possibly the most specific genre I'd ever heard of. Is there actually more than one book that would fall into this category?
The book was okay. Fairly fast-paced, and definitely an easy, quick read. I bought it on a whim, based entirely on the bookstore guy's recommendation, and the fact that because I'd just been to San Diego the weekend before, and I thought it would be intriguing to read about a place I'd just visited.
My main problem with Mr. Winslow is that he jerks back and forth between plot development and backstory and information-sharing. I appreciate his chapter-long, scientific explanations of how waves work, and his description of this specific section of the 101 highway in California, and the fact that he inserts chapters here and there to explain something that happened years before. All of these things help me understand the characters and the setting. Nothing wrong with including them.
Here's the thing: For some reason, he decided to insert these soliloquys right in the middle of the action. Literally, something big is about to happen, then there's 8 or 10 pages of blah-blah-blah, and then the next chapter starts and that big something happens. Only, I have forgotten by that point that something exciting is about to happen, and I have to go back and read the lead-up again so that I remember. It makes for herky-jerky reading, and it makes for a lot of flipping back and forth, is all I'm saying.
This is probably the crime version of chick-lit. Not challenging to read, doesn't require a lot of thought. A good summertime read; would have been perfect if I'd been lying on the sand instead of contemplating my return to work the next day.
Another book that I'm reading for a book club. The guy at the bookstore described it as "surfing crime noir." I commented that that was possibly the most specific genre I'd ever heard of. Is there actually more than one book that would fall into this category?
The book was okay. Fairly fast-paced, and definitely an easy, quick read. I bought it on a whim, based entirely on the bookstore guy's recommendation, and the fact that because I'd just been to San Diego the weekend before, and I thought it would be intriguing to read about a place I'd just visited.
My main problem with Mr. Winslow is that he jerks back and forth between plot development and backstory and information-sharing. I appreciate his chapter-long, scientific explanations of how waves work, and his description of this specific section of the 101 highway in California, and the fact that he inserts chapters here and there to explain something that happened years before. All of these things help me understand the characters and the setting. Nothing wrong with including them.
Here's the thing: For some reason, he decided to insert these soliloquys right in the middle of the action. Literally, something big is about to happen, then there's 8 or 10 pages of blah-blah-blah, and then the next chapter starts and that big something happens. Only, I have forgotten by that point that something exciting is about to happen, and I have to go back and read the lead-up again so that I remember. It makes for herky-jerky reading, and it makes for a lot of flipping back and forth, is all I'm saying.
This is probably the crime version of chick-lit. Not challenging to read, doesn't require a lot of thought. A good summertime read; would have been perfect if I'd been lying on the sand instead of contemplating my return to work the next day.
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