Nine years ago last Saturday

someone was born. And so there was a three-day ski trip that included lots of good friends, skiing with a coach, a cake, a load of cupcakes, a big pasta party, and a few presents.

But nine years ago there was this.

And later this.

Those are her first shoes.

Here she is reading up on a very important topic.

Getting outfitted for one of our favorite activities.

Looking like a penguin on some of her first skis.

Celebrating a birthday bowl of oatmeal.

Blowing out some candles at her birthday tea party.

Smiling like the Mona Lisa at a friend's wedding.

Sandwiched between two good friends.

In the suit that has given her the name The Pink Rocket.

Smiling at Christmas.

In San Francisco Opera's production of Macbeth.

And blowing out nine candles.

Happy birthday, baby. Words cannot express how much joy you have brought into my life. Out of all the crazy things I have done, having you was the best.

I am currently on tour

Have you ever been on one of those charity kitchen tours? Where you go from house to house marveling at the kitchens of people who clearly spent more outfitting them than you did on the entire purchase of your house? Are we supposed to be inspired? I usually snort and observe that "We could do that too if we SOLD THE CAR." And I always wonder if anyone really cooks in them. 

If you'd like to see some real kitchens—including mine—and hear how real people who absolutely do cook outfit and organize, come on over to what I think is the best food blog in the world, userealbutter.

Reading the comments has been fun. This is my favorite:

I love an uncluttered kitchen for myself, but find myself drawn to the coziness of Cindy’s.

Did she just call my kitchen cluttered??! OK, fine. It is, but there's a lot going on in it!!

Stay tuned for more kitchens coming up! 

What's cooking: Tomatillo pork

I know things have been a little quiet here at Figs in terms of food. i am well aware that stealing from bees is not exactly making dessert. But there's a good reason: Company is coming, and I've been busy pulling things together.

On Thursday, my kitchen will be featured on jen's use real butter KITCHEN TOUR. I must really love her to be willing to reveal the chaos that is the Fig kitchen, especially following the presentation of her immaculate and orderly kitchen. It looks like adults live there; a sense of calm comes over me as I scroll through the pictures. Mine sort of looks like a preschool. Not calm. Oh well, that's the point, right? Different people, different lives, different kitchens—we all make good stuff. What will that woman think of next?

So I should MAKE something, right? I have been cooking, just not posting anything. Enough with that. Here's a recipe I made up to deal with a vexing little problem: What to do with a pork tenderloin. They're so convenient: no trimming, quick cooking, nicely shrink wrapped to go in the freezer. And sort of boring. And small. Husband often eats almost all of one, then gazes wistfully at the rest, and asks "Is that my lunch?" You could make two, but they're sort of expensive. So the challenge was to give it some zing and stretch is out. See, the recession can be fun!!

I also tried to keep this recipe simple. I love Cook's Illustrated but am constantly exasperated by their instructions to put this in the pan, cook it, remove it, put that in the pan, . . . In this recipe you keep piling things in a single pan.

I paired the pork with one of my favorite items from the produce market, the tomatillo. Although it's related to the tomato, you can get good tomatillos now, long before the first tomatoes appear.


The fennel is optional. We've had it at our produce market lately, so I've been putting it in everything, but it especially complements pork.

TOMATILLO PORK

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pork tenderloin, rinsed, patted dry, and cut into one-inch cubes
1 medium onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
half a bulb fennel, diced (optional)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound (or more) tomatillos, husks removed, rinsed, and chopped
1 cup chick stock (or more as needed)
several spoonfuls sour cream or plain yogurt
Jalapeno Tabasco sauce, to taste
salt, to taste

Heat olive oil in a large saute pan. Add pork and cook until the cubes have a good brown crust. Add onion, celery, and fennel and saute until tender. Add garlic and continue cooking for another minute. Add tomatillos and saute until tender. Add chicken stock, bring to a boil and then reduce to simmer. Simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until pork is tender and flavors will blended. This can sit on the back of the stove for quite a while.

Remove from heat and stir in sour cream or yogurt. Season with Tabasco and salt to taste.

I served this with brown rice, cooked in chicken stock, and pinto beans, topping it with diced radishes and cilantro. A green salad completed the meal.

I've also made this with leftover carnitas, since a pork shoulder is much more meat than we can eat for even several meals. This makes great leftovers and freezes well.

Don't forget to come marvel laugh at my kitchen on Thursday! See you over at jen's.

Look what we had for dessert

Fresh honeycomb.

Husband hired someone to remove a hive before his company began construction on a house. Fortunately they didn't get it quite all. And fortunately Husband is an experienced beekeeper.

He's made Sophie the offer that when she is ready to get rid of her plastic playhouse in our front yard, we can use that space for bees. Could my chickens not be far behind??

Mother daughter dresses: Enough already

I love checking my site meter to see what Google searches land people over here at Figs, but this one has got to stop: "mother daughter dresses." Because that is not what we're about here. But Google these terms (which people have been doing with alarming regularity lately, undoubtedly owing to the upcoming Easter), and there on the first page is . . . me. Jeez. It's my fault though. Last spring, aware I was experiencing a moment of questionable judgment, I turned to my blog community for advice concerning this matter. They straightened me out: Ok to buy matching dresses but not to wear them at the same time. Ever. Fine. I mean, thank you

But I don't think people Googling these terms are looking for this kind of advice. They're probably looking for something like this:


Do you love that they throw in clothes for the doll? It's bad enough for an adult to be dressed like a child but a doll?? That's just wrong.

Or how about this?

[Removed following request of Nikki Knits. If you want to see the dress, go to their site.]

Gak. 

In which case I cannot refrain from offering some advice myself:

STOP RIGHT THERE. I mean it. STOP. You are an adult; your child is a child. Either your child is going to look like an adult or (most likely) you are going to look like a giant child. Not good either way. When our family dressed up for Easter Sunday, my mom wore . . . can't exactly remember, but surely something befitting an adult. I wore a dress that matched my sister's (fine given that we were both children), and we often had white gloves and little straw purses. The gloves caused a lot of problems opening doors and eating chocolate rabbits smuggled in the purses, but we looked good. So if you're shopping for Easter clothes (we'll be home in our jammies worshipping at the Church of the Pancake), go wild: Hats, gloves, purses are all good. But please leave the matching to the children.

I know that's probably not what you wanted to hear, but it's for your own good. 

If you land here because you Google "Mormon cake," you're probably not going to find what you're looking for either.

Next post: Back to food. Promise.

What would you do?

First of all, I promise this is the first and will be the last time I blog about gas. Really. Well, probably.

But I must confess, for reasons I do not understand, I think it is the funniest subject ever. Really. I can hardly think about it without cracking up. In fact, I absolutely cannot. So you can imagine how hilarious it is for me to live with a man who wakes himself up in the middle of the night with loud gas. ("Loud gas"—the very words make me laugh so hard I can barely type. I think there is something wrong with me.) He wakes up with a start "What's that?!" as if perhaps our home is being invaded.

Once on an early date, we were walking into a movie theatre. The trailers had begun, and the theatre was dark. About a quarter way down the center aisle, Husband accidentally lets rip one that sounded like thunder. Did he think no one would notice because it was DARK? Could I not, he wondered, pretend not to notice? Absolutely not. I collapsed to the ground in laughter and had to practically crawl out of the theatre until I could get control of myself. Who looked more stupid there? But seriously, I could not help myself.

This is by way of explaining why I am still laughing over the story he brought home the other night: He is sitting in his cubicle at work. He feels pressure. He lets it go carefully in the name of noise control. He thinks he's in the clear until a coworker walks into his cubicle RIGHT INTO THE CLOUD OF GAS. What would you have done? Husband just sat there smiling. The coworker draws up short and announces "Uh—I'll be back in about five minutes." As in when the air has cleared. We know what I would have done.

Of course I've been telling this story to everyone. One of my girl friends handles the situation like this: She farts in her office, someone shows up at the door, she stands up and says "I've got to check the fax machine. Walk with me."

Me? This is never an issue, as I am known as an entirely gasless person. Really.

Eating seasonally:Vegetables from the moon

What could be more exciting than a vegetable that comes on its own little tree? Brussel sprout stalks look to me like something Gumby might have found on his visit to the moon. (Remember that episode??)

When Sophie was little these stalks played an important part in my campaign to convince her that vegetables are fun (!) and exciting (!). 

It worked. And I agree with her that the fact Brussel sprouts look like doll cabbages is a plus. 

I think roasting is the best way to cook them. I cut them in half and place them on a large piece of foil, then drizzle them with balsamic vinaigrette and some pine nuts.

I place another equal sized piece of foil on top and crimp the edges. The package goes on a rimmed baking sheet in a 350 degree oven for about 35–40 minutes.



I'm back in my kitchen after another weekend in the Sierras. We had a great day at Squaw on Saturday where I hacked my way down The Nose off Headway over into North Bowl for the first time. Snaps to me for doing it on my carving skis, and thanks to my friend Eric for serving as my guide and not pushing me but being ready to go when I gave the word. This victory was tempered slightly by the massive tumble I took down Headwall Face on the next run. I caught an edge, over turned, and fell down backwards. Down, down, down, while turning from my back to my front and then running like a cartoon character to get my feet pointed down and finally coming to a stop. Someone who witnessed this from the lift declared my wreck "spectacular." Thank goodness I had a committee to collect and bring me my gear and help me reassemble. I decided I had had enough of it for the day (something about your adrenal glands emptying out, I think), but I'll be back. 

In the meantime, I'm eating  my winter veggies. Beets, anyone?