Spring break:Slopes were steep, springs were hot

We're back from Sophie's spring break Sierra ski tour. Although we've been suffering enjoying almost summer-like weather in the bay area, we knew there was still snow in California. It was our mission to go in search of it. We loaded up our van with all the skis in our house and tons of food and set out last Wednesday morning.

SKIING

Kirkwood

First stop on the way down to Mammoth was Kirkwood, where there was big news. I kicked the butt of a run that seriously kicked my butt two years ago. That's right: I SKIED DOWN THE WALL. Twice, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.

The Wall is ridiculously steep at the top (hence the name), and what is unusual is that there is only one way down from the lift that services it. Once you're on the lift, you are committed.

And hence, the sign, which two years ago I did not take seriously enough. It was not a good day on the top of The Wall, with humongous chunky mogels and way too many people. I totally lost my nerve and side-slipped down off the top at the least threatening spot, which was unfortunately right under the chair lift. Total humiliation and defeat.

But this year, it was mowed almost all the way up (amazing what they can do with a groomer at Kirkwood), and it was only the first turn off the very top that was hairy. Once past that, it was just ordinary steep stuff. I did it once. I did it twice. That was enough. I had three days at Mammoth ahead of me to think about.

Mammoth

This was my first trip to Mammoth as a person who knows how to ski, and all I can say is WOW. Actually I can say more than that, but still: WOW. What a mountain. It is like four Squaws put together!

Driving from Kirkwood at the end of the day to Mammoth was an easier drive than driving back home, and of course it was a much more beautiful one.

The eastern Sierras are amazing, and every time we visit I wonder why we don't spend more time there. Maybe the six hour drive?

Anywhoo, we had three great days of skiing, excepting the afternoon of the first day when wind shut down even most of the lower mountain. People at Mammoth take their wind very seriously. The gondola up to the top was down in the morning, but there was an hour or so window in the middle of the day, and we jumped right on to ride up and grab a few runs before it shut down again.


That night our friend Matt drove down to join us, and we did it again. And again. And again.

You can't tell because Sophie and I have our faces covered (it was pretty cold most of the time and especially at the summit), but we're smiling as much as Matt.

I was seriously pooped at the end of the last day as fatigue set in from chasing Husband and the Pink Rocket all over the mountain. I sort of miss the days when we would put Sophie in ski school in the morning, ski our asses off, and then pick her up and cruise in the afternoon with her. These days she is right on Husband's tail the entire time, and I feel like we hammer the entire day.

HOT SPRINGS

One thing we love in the eastern Sierras are the nearby wild hot springs.

After skiing, the ones in the Owens Valley were a quick drive away.

This one was nice but not hot enough. The next one we tried was a perfect temperature but too exposed to the howling wind and filled with naked hippies. You should appreciate I am not including pictures.

Crowley's

We three finally found one that was just right.


Crowley's had a nice boardwalk out to it, was out of the wind, a good temperature (could have been a little hotter), and large enough to accommodate the three of us and a few twenty-somethings on their spring break from culinary school.

We came back here a couple days later with our friend Matt.

Travertine

We stopped at Travertine Hot Springs on our way home. Husband and Matt had been here before, but every time I've been in the area it's been too hot to consider soaking in hot water in the direct sun. On a winter afternoon though it was perfect.










Coming up soon: How Sophie won a $20 bet with her dad, a really great ski sandwich, and truly amazing barbecue in Walker.

Now that I'm sort of caught up here, it's time to get caught up on a little blog reading. Anyone have a baby while I was gone???

Adios

The Figs will be heading out very early in the morning for Mammoth. Spring skiing, here we come!


Have a good weekend. Back on Monday.

My food processor and I spenda little quality time together

After all, I do not like to go on a ski trip without little jars of stuff. It's part of the Girl Scout in me: I like to be prepared. And if there is one thing I hate to do on a ski trip it is shop. It interferes with the ski-eat-sleep plan. So I have been scurrying around planning menus, gathering up supplies, and grinding up things. 

Here's what we've got:

Pesto Genoese: You know, the regular kind with basil, toasted pine nuts, parmesan, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil. We'll have this one night with pasta and sauteed shrimp.

Romesco Sauce: We made this here. It's great on a roast beef sandwich. 

Cilantro Pesto: Since we're going away, I'm working on cleaning out the fridge, and something had to be done with the cilantro. It's combined here with toasted almonds, shallot, garlic, white wine vinegar, olive oil, and a few shots of green Tabasco. It's great for perking up a turkey sandwich. 

Citrus Tapanade: This will be great on a sandwich or to dip bread or crackers in. Recipe below.

CITRUS TAPANADE

1 cup Kalamata olives, rinsed and pitted
2 1/2 tablespoons capers, rinsed
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh orange juice (I used a Mandarin)
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 anchovy fillet
zest of all of the three citruses

Zest orange, lemon, and lime and then juice. Combine all ingredients in a food processor and blend until smooth. 

I've had so much fun organizing big ski trips (much to the exasperation of Husband, who asks "Do you have to make everything a house party???"), but I'm looking forward a trip with just my two favorite people on earth: Husband and Sophie. We have a free condo. (thanks for arranging, Mom and Dad!) in Mammoth, where we were going to meet my parents until my dad broke his leg skiing with us in Utah earlier this year. And our friend Eric, with whom I would like to enter into a polygamous marriage for just ski season each year, cannot get away from work. So it will be just the Fig chickens taking roost. We'll ski Kirkwood on the way down and then three days at Mammoth. We'll ski like demons, hit some wild hot springs, cook, read, eat, and sit around smiling at each other. Because that's what we like to do.

There's an explanation for everything

Did you know I am a film maker? And that's why I am using the medium of film to explain to you what happened to me this morning.



Thank you Gwendo for the inspiration. I needed something to distract me from our school auction, mountains of laundry, getting ready for our spring break Mammoth trip, and taxes.

You too can make a film. And I hereby throw down the gauntlet.

Let's roast duck

But let's discuss first, just to get a few things out of the way.

Duck is expensive.

More than chicken. But think how much a dinner for four of roasted duck would be at a nice restaurant.

Duck is weird!!

What always strikes me first when I unwrap a duck is that they are sort of . . . rectangle. It is not round like a chicken. It has a big old chest, with a thick layer of fat beneath.

And little bitty legs. This makes sense: Duck are made for swimming in cold water, not running around the barnyard.


But most of duck is DELICIOUS!! It is NOT greasy if you prepare it correctly. And preparing it correctly is NOT tricky, just time consuming. Got a chilly day when you want to stay inside? Looking for a good reason to have the oven on for over three hours? DUCK!

My method of roasting duck is cribbed from several recipes I have collected over the years.

I start by marinating it for at least three hours and up to overnight in a combination of equal parts dry sherry and soy sauce.

I can truss a chicken in my sleep, but as I have indicated, this is not a chicken. Many ducks into my roasting adventures have brought me to this method. I tie the legs together and pull the tail (ducks have quite a lot of tail) up through the legs.

Next, I take a sharp knife and make little slits in which I stuff the tips of the wings. Finally, I make several little slits in the breast skin so the fat can drain out while roasting.

Speaking of draining out, it's really important to place the duck on a roasting rack that holds it above the bottom of the pan. Otherwise you will end up with a big greasy mess that will fulfill every fear you have ever had about roast duck.

The key to good duck is in the roasting. I roast duck at a low temperature (325 degrees) for three hours and crank up the oven  to 450 degrees for twenty minutes to put a final crisp on the skin. 

Another part of my roast duck is this delicious sauce, which I've tweaked from a recipe I cut out of a magazine years ago. It can be made the night before, refrigerated, and heated up before serving. This time I had a particularly shitty bottle of cheap Trader Joe's port (I'm hardly a Port snob, but honestly, this was nearly undrinkable), so instead of pouring it down the sink, I used it to make a large batch of this sauce, which I will freeze in portions. It is delicious over beef and totally rocks pork.

PORT CHERRY SAUCE

1/2 cup dried cherries
1 cup chicken broth
1 cup beef broth
1/2 cup Port
1 spring fresh thyme
1 teaspoon cornstarch, dissolved in 2 teaspoons water
1/4 cup unsalted butter, cup into 1/2" pieces

Bring cherries, broths, Port, and thyme to a boil in a sauce pan over high heat. Reduce heat and simmer until reduced to 1/2 cup.

Add cornstarch mixture, whisking constantly. Add butter one piece at a time, whisking. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

ROAST DUCK

Marinate duck in equal parts dry sherry and soy sauce.

Rinse duck well. Tie feet and pull tail up and through. With a sharp knife, make small slits in the side skin to tuck the wing tips into. Make several small slits in the breast skin. Pull neck skin down underneath body and place bird breast-side up on a roasting rack over a pan. 

Roast at 325 degrees for three hours. Turn up oven to 450 degrees for 20 minutes to crisp up skin.  Remove and let rest half an  hour before carving.

This is one of Husband's favorite meals (right up there with fresh Dungeness crab) and is so what he requested for his birthday dinner this past weekend. We also had roasted asparagus spears wrapped in proscuitto,  goat brie with crackers, fresh baby radishes, asparagus risotto, roasted beet salad, and tossed green salad.

And since my Meyer lemon tree is in full production, I book-ended the meal with a lemon drop martini made from my homemade limoncello and a lemon souffle with vanilla creme anglaise sauce. Recipes and links (you know who you are) coming up later this week.

The husband? He fiddy-two

That's right. He had a BIRTHDAY this week. And received a few gifts.

Last year I got him a heated ski boot bag, which was pretty hard to beat, especially since there's room for my gloves in it.

This year I got him a Kalamata olive tree. It's fairly small, and it will be a while before we are harvesting and curing olives, but in the meantime, it's beautiful silvery little tree.

We're not sure where it's going (it has to compete with two figs, a persimmon, a lime, and a Meyer lemon). For now it will live in a wine barrel planter.

He also received three ranunculi (that's the plural of ranunculus, right?). Pretty, no?

Sophie horrified him and totally cracked me up by giving him a card with ten dollars in it. Serves him right for going on about how he loves cards with money. She felt very grown up.

But I think Mother Nature bested the both of us.

First buds on our brown turkey fig tree. I guess spring's not all bad.

Guess what I'm doing on Friday?

It would be an understatement to say I'm a little stressed out. I am truly about to lose my ever-loving mind. The weather has warmed up and my magnolia tree is in full bloom, which brings to my attention several horrific observations:

• Ski season is almost over. Boo!!
  

• I need to schedule every goddamned week of my summer in signing up Sophie for all her summer camps.
  

• Taxes are upon us (I have done nothing about this).
  

• Our school auction—which, against my better judgment, I am chairing for the THIRD (f word deleted from here) time in a row—is a month away. 
  

And I'm busy at work. There you have it: a mental health perfect storm. 

Thank goodness my excellent girlfriends have planned a girls' night out. Here is a top-10 list of reasons anyone would participate in the activity we have planned, thoughtfully forwarded by our genius organizer:

10. Nothing sounds better than a strike.

9. Do you really want to drop $30.00 for tickets, another $30.00 for snacks, and still take the chance that you family won't like the movie?

8. Raining . . . no problem! Snowing . . . no problem! Heat wave . . . no problem!

7. Where else can you get socks from a vending machine?

6. Parties! (Have you ever tried throwing a 5-year-old's party at home??)

5. Snack bar nachos.

4. Aren't you a little old to hang out at the mall?

3. Play, eat, drink . . . play, eat, drink. What other sport lets you do that?

2. Where else can Dorothy's Flower Shop beat big Earl's Auto Supply? 

1. IT'S THE SHOES, BABY!!

And indeed, it is. I will happily don those groovy little shoes, although I will most certainly bring my own socks and will pass on the nachos.

But this lists omits one of the best reasons, according to my grad. school roommate, who we'll just call Minnesota Sue. In the southern California beach town where I grew up, bowling is largely limited to children's parties and fraternity gatherings involving very large amounts of alcohol. Not that there is anything wrong with bowling, but for most adults it is generally just not done. Minnesota Sue was astonished at this, as was I that she had bowled in a league and knew people who owned their own bowling balls. But her answer to why people in Minnesota bowled made perfect sense:  You can't golf in the winter.

So why is a group of women who live in a temperate climate and do not golf anyway going bowling? Because we can. And besides, bowling is funny. There are few things that put in seizures of laughter more than televised professional bowling. Really: It's better than those cable shopping shows where people try to outdo each other on how many words you can possibly say about one shitty piece of jewelry. 

Professional bowlers are so SERIOUS. 

And they have such STYLE.

And did you know they even have their own language? My girlfriend J. will have to look here to understand what I'm saying when I ask her "Are you sandbagging with that sour apple, you kegler? Watch this Greek church that I'm going to nail with a Brooklyn! God, can't we just forget this all and have a few brewskies in the pit?"