Dip.

Ahh... fondue. Like cake, the dish and I have a harried past that has somehow led to expertise. At 10, I was alone in our family kitchen, cleaning up after a true fondue party. Somehow I got it in my head that the remaining melted cheese was unfit for future consumption, and trashed close to $100 in leftovers before Momo discovered my failed attempt to assist. 

Then, in college, a family member hooked me up with a writing gig for a new food magazine. The topic? Fondue. I had not yet recovered from my decade-old folly, but at a dollar a word, this poor student was eager to be paid for my skills. I went and 'invested' in a substantial library of cheese for the project, and got my hot, new, OLDER boyfriend (queue Premal Trivedi) to hook me up in the alcohol department. I researched the history of fondue in pop-culture (a scheme dreamed up by the Swiss cheese lobby*), and toiled over a series of pots of molten dairy, perfecting my technique. In the end, I was late on my deadline, the magazine tanked, and I was never paid. This left me regretting a number of decisions, listed as thus:

1. Working with relatives 
2. Spending too much money on cheese  
3. Reacquainting myself with fondue

Nearly another decade on, it seems I'll never learn. I continue to practice the activities above on a daily, weekly, and yearly basis. 

Here's the thing about rustic, old dishes. They're really easy. With fondue, there's a basic equation, and thus far, it's served me well. For every pound of cheese, you'll need a cup of booze, a tablespoon of flour, and a large clove of garlic. Grate the cheese and toss it with the flour. Then, rub down the interior of your pot with a halved garlic clove, and warm your alcohol. Add the cheese a handfull at a time, and stir until melted. 

BUT HERE COMES THE MAGIC:

Anyone can follow a recipe, but it takes a sound mind to keep your cool when $h*t hits the fan. This is where I truly shine. If your fondue it grainy, thick, or stringy here are the ugly tools that will enable a beautiful fete: an emersion blender and a slurry of cornstarch and lemon juice. If something's not right, mix up a two-to-one concoction of lemon juice and cornstarch. The acid in the lemon will dissolve the stringy proteins in the cheese and the cornstarch will thicken and smooth for good measure. Still not right? Bring out that magic wand and go to work. It does the trick every time. 

Now that I've shared my methods, here are the combinations we used to get you started. 

Traditional--Gruyère+White wine+Nutmeg+Black pepper

American--Aged cheddar+IPA+Maple syrup (1T)

U So Fancy--Havarti+Champagne+Honey (1T) +Thyme

For dipping we had roasted veggies, cornichons (my fav), and more glorious bread than you can shake a stick at courtesy of the folks at Il Forno.

*Don't believe me? Well, NPR's Planet Money team recently did a whole (fantastic) episode on the topic.

QQQQQuestion?

Are you able to tell when you have enough?

Kimber: Nope. If anyone has tips for developing this particular power of discernment, please do share.

Charity: Not to go all Confuciun on this answer, but the more I have, the more I think I need. The less I have, the more I realize I can live without.

Liberty: I'd like to say yes, but after a recent joyous conversation (partially motivated by 3 glasses of champagne), that concluded in a fit of public tears...the most accurate answer is probably closer to no.

Mercina: Probably not. This question makes me think of a diet Glorianna and I went on a few years ago. We attempted to eat only fruit. But after a few days we were feeling pretty woozy and indulged in some cookies. By indulged I mean we ate until we got sick. And we both felt awful for the rest of the day. Yeah, no.

Glorianna: Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean I stop.

House

my father's campaign sign, and one of the flags that flew over the capitol during my grandfather's memorial service. 

This June marks a number of anniversaries for our little family: two-years married, one-year in Denver, and six-months in our cute li'l bungalow. Everything is settling. The sensors in my brain that used to tingle at the freshness of my surroundings have quieted. The new state of consciousness that has taken over is, perhaps, a duller awareness, but it is certainly no less delicious. 

It is one of belonging. I am surrounded by people and things I chose, and continue to choose. I am responsible for them, they are mine. Every morning I wake up knowing where I will be, with the same sweet arm around my waist, and the sun cutting through the same thin curtain. On Saturdays there is chai. On Sunday, a bike ride through the park. My life is a tread, rolling through the seasons, held steady by love and place. It is a joyous routine.

my beloved art: (from top left) a gift from a dear friend, my great-grandfather's favorite painting, a gem from the streets of baltimore, and a gift from my grandfather.

my great grandmother's dining set.

i love this silk screen by alaskan artist rie munoz. it's such a joyous depiction of an industrious, strong mother and her child (the red, white and blue color scheme doesn't hurt either).

i love every. single. room. in my house. that said, i may have an extra dose of tenderness for my office. 

premal's aunt is a talented ceramics artist, the little blue and white vessel is one of her pieces. i adore the little bowl, and the ridiculously delicious mango-pickle it holds! 

my to-do list.

this is my go-to spot for food photography and mindless snacking. it's also where my neighbor tegan and i terrify/creep on each other. thank goodness for chill neighbors!  

we've stuffed our guest room with textiles from india. the bed is about as old as our house (130-years or so)! 

it seems i've jumped aboard the recent macrame revival. what can i say? i was giddy at the prospect of putting my old friendship bracelet-making skills to use. 

the couch in our reading nook was part of the set for the sound of music. momo bought it years ago, and sometimes I begin to doubt the story, but then i'll look up this photo and remind myself that my mama knows what she's sayin.  

little trinkets tied to perfect memories. 

QQQQQuestion?

What was the best part of your day?

Kimber: Willa joining me in the laundry room, WAY past her bedtime, and insisting on brushing my hair. When the midnight makeover was complete, she grabbed my cheeks between her tiny hands and whispered, "Mommy I make you so beautiful and happy."

Charity: Yoni and I went to a beautiful, magical party hosted by all of these wonderful women! It was so fun.

Liberty: Checking out Premal's cute bootie as we pedaled around Denver on our tandem bike.

Mercina: Seeing a mother duck and her SIXTEEN ducklings during a walk around the lake.

Glorianna: I was going through a lot of old pictures, so it's probably finding:

and

What about you? What was the best part of your day today?

Because, why not?

It's not often that I have a fleet of professional photographers following me around and taking my picture. That said, it does happen occasionally...

These are photos snapped at my company's big conference this year, and while there was no Bill Gates this time around, I did get to hang with Ben Bernanke, Secretary of Energy Ernest Moniz, and Colorado Governor (not to mention my numero uno political crush) John Hickenlooper.

I desperately hope I didn't come off as this cloying in person

I have no words for the awkwardness I'm exhibiting in this photo

Ahh! Much better!

Cake > Sex

Look! I made a cake! 

Here are a few things you should know about me and this cake, and also cakes in general. 

1. I'm not a huge fan of cake--I'll typically go for something chewier and/or fattier if given the choice.
2. I'm not very good at making cake--they tend to turn into "trifles."
3. This cake was crazy delicious, it was not hideous, and I ate it instead of ice cream for several meals (mostly breakfast, but also lunch...also dessert). 

Typically, the only reason I'll bake a cake is to celebrate the birth of someone I adore. This often results in my humiliation as friends and friends-of-friends offer well-meaning compliments and comments. "It really does taste good though!" "That was such a sweet idea!" "YOU are very, very thoughtful!"

This cake however, was not a token of love and celebration, but rather the debit of a lost wager. The scene was something like this:

 (Liberty's legs can be seen protruding from beneath the couples' bed as Premal quietly reads atop it.)

L: HELP! HELPhelp! Premal! I'm stuck, I can't breath!

(

Premal extracts his wife)

P: What were you doing?

L: Trying to plug in our new lamps. 

P: I can do that.

L: You are much bigger and fatter than I am, and it is therefore impossible for you to succeed in this effort where I have failed. 

P: Wanna bet?

L: Yes, I do.

P: Okay, but if I win I want something awesome.

L: Okay. 

P: Not something dumb, like sex. 

L: Okay.

P: I want cake. A carrot cake. With frosting. 

L: Deal.

(Premal reaches the cord behind the mattress, thereby completing the task and winning the wager in mere seconds. --Scene--)

Pineapple Carrot Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

note: Obviously walnuts and raisins are optional, except when they're not. Which happens to be the case with this cake. Which is to say, I refuse to endorse the results of the recipe below should you choose to omit these items. xoxo

Cake

:

2 c. sugar

1 1/3 c. vegetable oil

3 eggs

1 t. vanilla

2 1/2 c. flour

2 t. cinnamon  

2 t. baking soda

1 1/2 t. salt

1 c. raisins

1 c. walnuts

1 lb. finely grated carrots

1/2 c. fresh pineapple, cubed

1 in. finely grated fresh ginger

Preheat oven to 350 f

Prepare 3 8-inch rounds with parchment, then butter and flour. 

Beat sugar, oil and eggs with mixer fitted with a paddle for 4 minutes. Add vanilla. Sift together flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt--add to wet ingredients. Toss raisins and nuts with a little flour, then fold into batter (it will be quite stiff at this point). Fold in carrots and pineapple. Divide among the pans and bake 50 min. 

Frosting

:

2 blocks cream cheese

1 stick butter

2 c. powdered sugar (sifted, please.)

1/4 c. maple syrup

1 pinch salt

Place all ingredients in a mixer. Beat the bejeezus out of it. Wait 'til your cake is

actually

cool before frosting. 

Comfy

I'm a creature of habit.  As we drove Premal had me rank places I'd most like to live, and Baltimore was in my top three (following DC and Denver--obvi). He went over the locations I deemed "less than ideal:" San Francisco, New York, Portland, Chicago...? 

*blink   blink   blink*

At that, he looked down and laughed out loud. "It's like this shirt," he said.

"I like that shirt."

"I know! Which is why I'm photographed wearing it in roughly 10% of our travel pictures!" (I'm the one who usually ends up packing...)

Meanwhile, I was busy contemplating the white sweater I had on.

The same one

I've worn 3-times a week since I bought it in November. 

Which is to say, he has a point. But then again, so do I.