Author Archives: Jenna

Shapong Sprit at Plato's

So first I should explain . . . once my sister Erica and I shopped.

This was in Bloomington Indiana back in 2006, right before my husband and I moved away to Delaware for three years. We hit up all our favorite stores, and came back laden with bags . . . and this dog.

Just kidding! We did not purchase this dog–we just used him to de-stress at a mid-shopping pet store breather. I held him at arm’s length because I was afraid he would pee on me. Or maybe he already had peed on me. I’ve had 4 years to heal, and have blocked the details from my mind.

Erica had just cut my hair very short. It had gone from this length earlier that year:

To this:

During this shopping spree, we hit what I like to call a historical sugar low. We started laughing, then crying and laughing, and finally I took a hard seat on the sidewalk because I was so weakened by laughter and lack of food and the overwhelmingness of shopping for hours that my legs were no longer supporting me.

Erica uttered the now famous phrase “Quick, where’s your camera, I need to take a picture of you while you’re down!” This was the picture:

In fact, you can even see that we had been to Plato’s Closet (you can see the ‘S’ on the bag).

Somehow during the madness Erica and I provoke in one another, the ‘shopping spree’ became the ‘shapong sprit.’ We dubbed this specific shapong sprit “The Emperor’s Last Stand” because it was to be our last big extravaganza before I moved away.

Last Wednesday, as you know, I had a little shapong sprit of my own since my husband was out of town and I had time to kill. I hit up Plato’s Closet, my hands-down favorite store of all time, amen and amen.

By the end of my excursion and about 10 trips to the dressing room (in which I tried on at least 50 items, no joke–my strategy is to try everything on, though that ‘everything’ really amounted to 0.001% of the total items in the store), I was ready to be home. However, an hour of transit awaited me in which a bus failed to show up, traffic lights kept faking me out and making me think the bus was finally coming when it wasn’t, I walked a lot, and then as I was dashing up the steps to catch the train at the Fullerton El stop, I fell across the stairs and skinned my hand. I immediately felt like I was in 3rd grade and all the kids were about to start laughing. However, this is Chicago, and no one even noticed–or if they did, they kept it to themselves and moved on with their busy and important lives. I picked myself up off the steps, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and continued on my way. And then I felt stupid for even thinking the self-deprecating laugh was necessary.

Then I boarded the train and spent 25 minutes in very close proximity to a homeless woman. And she smelled . . . very bad. Very, very, very. Every time the train doors opened, the breeze blew that scent straight up my nose, and my stomach literally turned over. I thought for a moment I was going to retch. I briefly considered moving to the other end of the train car, but then I thought “would Jesus move to the other end of the train car?” I pondered this question for a while. Surely his stomach wasn’t made of cast iron? Then again, without indoor plumbing, maybe he was used to such smells. By the time we reached my stop, my brain was in a confused muddle of sensations and ideas: BO, respect for others, urine, loving the poor, and also the sneaking suspicion that I was making a mountain out of a mole hill in my frenzied, shopped-out mind.

As soon as I got home, I hit the shower. The scent of unwashed human still clinging to my nasal passages combined with the sweat congealing on my own body (from all that taking on-and-off of clothes in the dressing room) and my hideous hair (too much product in it) sent me running toward that cleansing experience. I briefly considered completely covering myself in Noxzema face wash (a reoccurring dream of mine), but I decided that would be wasteful. And decadent. And maybe kinda weird. But one day! One day, my friends, I will do it, decency be hanged.

Anyway.

One of the things I miss about shopping with my sisters is that there’s no one to review the purchases with. We have a ritual called exactly that: “Review the Purchases.” When we get home from our outing, we each take turns pulling one thing (and one thing only) out of our bags, and holding it up for everyone to see. Then we cut off the tags and place the viewed item in a neat, folded pile. We continue taking turns until the shopping bags are empty. It’s a fun way of revisiting what we bought that makes it feel a little like Christmas. Plus, on a large-ish shopping spree, you tend to forget that awesome camis that you bought at the 2nd store, or that bracelet you picked up at the 85th store, so it feels like a surprise when you pull it out. Not that I ever make it to the 85th store–I’m lucky if I can last through 3 of them. Especially if there’s mall music playing–that stuff turns me into a dehydrated empty brained zombie.

Alas, on Wednesday night there was no one to review the purchases with.

(I realize that if there are any male readers, I am bound to have lost you by now, if not earlier.)

I was also way too tired to review them even by myself, so instead I did exactly as I had threatened to you all in that post; I grabbed a bowl of rice and a bowl of popcorn, a bottle of water to rehydrate, and settled in to watch “Maid to Order” on Netflix. It was a lovely time, even though the 80s were a sad, sad era for female hairdos, and the matching his-and-her mullets of the two main characters had me very confused about gender identity.

Thursday, being my second night alone, I decided that my only alternative was to share my purchases with my sisters . . . via my blog. Oh, and with the rest of you too–I leave nobody out! So I grabbed my camera and took some pictures, which I bring you on this fine October morning (though I realize by now it is almost 2 weeks later). This will probably send you running at a sprint to the nearest Plato’s–because it’s just that awesome. And cheap. And if you happen to find some black leather boots with flat bottoms in a size 10 that come just below the knee, could you please purchase them for me? And I’ll pay you back? See, I’ve been looking for the perfect boots for about a decade now, and it still ain’t happened. I need to get to a place in my life where I’m comfortable spending $100 on a pair, and then I doubt I’ll have any trouble finding something to my liking–but that time has not come.

Anyway, to the fun stuff!

First, there were these shoes–Steve Madden, $10.

I adore them. Since my husband and I are the same height, I can’t do the whole heels scene, so I take great, great joy in a gorgeous pair of flats.

Then again, Nicole Kidman never seemed self-conscious about towering over Tom Cruise, so maybe I need to get over my issues and channel my inner Nicole.

Then, there was this necklace.

I tried it on on a whim, feeling dubious because the dangling pieces are heart-shaped–I thought that might be too teenibopper for me. However, I LOVED it. Here it is paired with a maternity shirt I found.

Maternity schmaternity. It’s long and flowy and I adore it.

I could also talk at length here about the difficulty of photographing clothing that’s not on someone. I had no idea it was so hard to get a flattering shot of a shirt. I draped it over the bed, over a chair, held it up with one arm while holding my camera in the other, and finally gave up and hung it from a sconce on my bedroom wall.

I briefly wished for one of the many mannequins that populate my grandparent’s living room, until I remembered how much they creep me out.

Then I simply put the shirt on, thinking this would solve the problem. But the difficulties continued. Doing a photographic self-portrait with an external flash that showcases the clothing you’re wearing–it would take decades of hard work to master this skill. I also had to really focus to relax my forehead. Something about shooting a picture of myself in a mirror makes me wrinkle my brow and put on a Yoda face. The picture below was the only useable shot–I like to call it “bimbo face.” And when it’s Yodaface versus Bimboface, I’ll pick Bimbo any day.

And yes, that little grey sweater was also an awesome, awesome find. Express brand, $12.

Though is it bothering anyone else that my necklace appears to be off center? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

This belt is très, très interesting:

I’ve never seen clasps quite like it–they have little hooks that fit into the holes in the leather. Fascinating.

Vvreeerrrry unique.

I’m in love with this little shirt/dress because the color reminds me of . . . Christmas!!!!

Not to speak of the $8 price tag. And whaddya know, it goes with the belt and the necklace . . .

. . . it’s like I bought all these items together, or something!

And this dress. Mmmmm–look at the shimmery fabric.

My cousin-in-law Stephanie wore something like this to my sister Heidi’s wedding. I’ve always remembered it. Now I can be exactly like Stephanie!

OK, minus the cute and petite athletic bod. And the flawless tan skin. And the awesome hair. And the ability to run marathons.

And can you guess what I’m going to say next–

–I’ll give you one guess and one guess only–

–yes! It also goes with the necklace!

AND THE BELT!!! It’s like everything is working together for the greater good.

I can shift the belt clasps to the side (above) or to the center (below) for a different look. Both looks scream “Star Trek” to me somehow. I can totally see this belt over a yellow felt bodysuit with black leather cutouts across one arm.

The belt put me behind a whopping $6.

Oh man . . . but there’s that off-center necklace issue again. Why do you have to be off center? Why are you such a little rebel? I’ve never been anything but good to you!

And for the crowning glory . . . two Guess coats.

They were more than I normally spend on an item at Plato’s, but let me explain.

I’ve been needing a warm winter coat. You see, I’ve been wearing the same felt coat since I was 16 years old. It’s holding up, but it’s not looking very fresh these days–plus it’s not warm enough to wear on its own. This requires layering it with a fleece or sweatshirt, and every item I have to take on and off as I go outside to the train in the morning, then inside to work, then outside to the train, then inside to the grocery store, then outside to head home, (etc. etc.) creates more static in my hair. And static in my hair just makes me crabby. Yes, I was pretty much crabby the entirety of last winter and I blame it on my old coat. Also, the pockets are completely ripped out, there threads are hanging everywhere, and, well, you get the picture. “Coat” has been on my Christmas list for about 5 years. About every other year, my parents give me a little handmade voucher that says I can go buy a coat and put an end to my sufferings. However, I can never find one to my liking, so inevitably they end up financing the purchase of a sweater or a dress instead.

When I saw these coats and tried them on, I knew this was it. They would fulfill the void in my life. They would fit the bill for not one, but two needs:

1) The ‘attractive’ coat that pairs well with work clothes.

2) The ‘sleeping bag’ coat that is necessary when the Chicago winds are trying to murder you as you wait for the bus on a cold and dark morning.

I was about to resign myself and purchase a butt ugly but functional coat from an online retailer whose name will not be mentioned. I was prepared to spend $120 or so. So in my mind, that completely justifies purchasing 2 coats for a lot less. Um, right? OK, fine–for considerably less. OK.

Right.

OK.

Plus, this coat has this really useful little chain.

What does it do?

Well that’s a great question.

Someone cooler than I am knows the answer.

In the interest of full disclosure, when I tried them on at home again, I discovered a small rip in the lining of the grey coat under the right arm. I beat myself up immediately for not demanding a discount at the register. Then I decided I had no interest in beating myself up and it didn’t matter anyway. So I grabbed my needle and thread and quickly patched it up while watching Episode 11 of Project Runway. Yes, I like to sew while watching people sew on Project Runway, and I like to exercise while watching other people exercise on The Biggest Loser. But is it really so wrong?

And in the interest of full, full disclosure, there was a third coat.

Has she gone hog wild, you ask??

The answer is ‘yes.’

But it was adorable and feminine and had a full skirt. A little snug (so no layering it with really heavy sweaters) but perfect for these fall days we are among.

It was très, très cheap. I’m sorry I keep saying très. But don’t you like to speak fake French when the subject of fashion is at hand?

OK, enough revelations. You’ve heard it all.

See you all tomorrow for more ridiculousness, fun, and the very first guest post in the long and illustrious history of this blog. I’ll give you a hint as to her identity: she’s blonde. I spank her on a regular basis. She coined the name “Explosivo” for one of my future children.

Be there or be square!

Seared Fennel Salmon with Pasilla-Spiced Pumpkin Basmati

So I have somehow gotten myself involved in a cooking challenge. Food blogger and med school student Joanne from “Eats Well With Others” was hosting a little recipe-making competition sponsored by Marx Foods, and in a stroke of wild abandon I entered my name as a potential participant. I’ve never done this before, and I was scared crapless. Yes, I can cook a delicious meal. Yes, I’ve fine-tuned recipes and even created many from scratch. But am I the wildly inventive person who in a stroke of genius adds an entirely unexpected ingredient such as caviar mousse or onion confit to a bread dough, resulting in the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?

Well . . . no. And then I got an email saying I had been selected. I took a deep breath. I took another deep breath. I got up, reheated my coffee, sat down again. I had visions of some kind of historical culinary disaster going down in my kitchen. Then I had visions of a gigantic personal culinary success. Then the disaster. Then the suceess. The two visions arm-wrestled each other for a while, until I was like “Enough you two! Just take it down a notch! I am going to make the best friggin, gosh darn, friggin fantastic thing I can, and whether I win or lose I will at least make something friggin delicious for dinner that my husband and I will friggin devour like wild hyenas!” And then I shouted out an extra ‘friggin’ just for good measure.

Now I could just jump into the recipe–but this is a blog! And that means you get to hear every single one of my thoughts (evil cackle). Hey! Get away from that scroll button!

The challenge was to create a recipe with the following conditions:

1. One of the main ingredients must be orange winter squash (any variety–acorn, pumpkin, butternut . . .). Apparently, Joanne’s goal this season is to eat enough squash to turn herself orange. This is our way of helping her achieve that goal.

2. You must use two of the eight ingredients mailed to you in a box by Marx Foods.

3. The recipe must be original (i.e. of my own brilliant or horrific creation).

How hard can this be? I asked myself with a furrowed brown in the days leading up to the receipt of the box. I could go the Thai curry route . . . the Indian curry route . . . perfectly seared salmon on a bed of rice and squash . . . I could do a risotto, or a salad with roasted pumpkin, avocado, pine nuts and other delights . . . I could do some kind of complicated gnocchi or ravioli . . . or even some kind of one-dish breakfast bake in my iron skillet. Or a quiche! Tacos! A spicy Pozole-inspired stew with a mole-style drizzle!

There was a frenzy in my brain. How would I ever decide what to make??

And then I realized how to simplify it. The question came down to: what did I want to eat? Which imaginary dish did I want to dig my fork into? If I were at a restaurant, which of these dishes would I order hands down?

The answer was clear: a piece of perfectly cooked salmon on a pile of rice. Oh, and a delicious rich Thai curry. So there were two answers. And they were both equally clear.

Yes, I decided to make both of my recipe ideas and simply submit the one I liked best. So my friends, without further ado, let’s get this show on the road. Let’s make that salmon, which is my official submission. The ‘freebie’ curry recipe, also delicious, will be posted later this week . . . or next week. We’ll see how cozy I feel like getting with Photoshop in the days to come.

I’m using sugar pie pumpkin, and the two ‘mystery’ ingredients I chose from the box are dried pasilla negro chilies and fennel pollen. I know the recipe name is long and complicated–but the actual instructions couldn’t be easier. It’s basically a piece of fish with a rub that sits on a pile of rice (rice-cooking method courtesy of Pastor Ryan) with some goodies tossed in. Do not fear the process.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

For the rice:

2 c basmati rice

4 c water

2 TBS butter

1 tsp ground pasilla negro chili

1 TBS turmeric

1 tsp salt

1 c frozen peas

Cilantro (optional garnish)

For the pumpkin

4 cups sugar pie pumpkin cubes (from 1 medium sized pumpkin)

2 TBS butter

2 tsp dried ground pasilla negro chili

2 tsp brown sugar

1/2 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

salt to taste

For the fish:

4 salmon fillets, skinned (about 0.3 lbs each)

3 TBS olive oil

2 tsp fennel pollen

salt (generous amount)

black pepper

Before anything else, grab a large pasilla negro chili:

Grind it up in a spice mill or coffee grinder.

I used our coffee grinder on the ‘espresso’ setting and got a lovely, finely ground pile.

Should I taste it?

Absolutely.

I’m a huge proponent of tasting your ingredients–you’ll get a much better sense of how to combine different things if you take a chomp, or in this case, a lick.

If you’ve never had pasilla negro chili, you’re in for a treat. It has a spicy, raisin-like, almost chocolaty flavor that is very unique. And it’s not fiery hot either, so don’t worry about incinerating your tastebuds.

Now the salmon cooks pretty quickly, so I like to get the rice squared away first. Grab your rice cooker: dump in the basmati rice, water, butter, turmeric, ground pasilla negro chili, and 1 tsp salt.

Press ‘cook’! That was easy. Unless you don’t have a rice cooker. Then you’ll have to fend for yourself and make it in a pot on the stove, like a real man.

Your #1 mission is now to halve that sugar pumpkin. This is without a doubt the most difficult and dangerous part of the recipe. I was very afraid I would stab my own hand, or possibly lop my head off.

It looked so friendly, and innocent, and orange, and small . . .

But it proved to be a worthy and tough opponent.

I swung it around the kitchen a few times just for good measure.

Just kidding! Please don’t do that at home. You could really do some damage. Just keep working at it patiently and carefully. Once I got a cut made, I wedged my knife sharpener in the crack and forced the pieces apart.

Of course, a woodsman with an axe would have come in handy. But no woodsmen were patrolling my Chicago neighborhood that evening, so I battled it out. The triumph was sweet in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt moved to pose with an ingredient before. I also seem to be looking particularly freckly. Hmmmm. Trick of the light, trick of the light.

Scrape out the seeds and innards. If you’re a motivated person you’ll save the seeds and roast them later for a delicious snack. I was lacking motivation that night and simply threw them away.

Now, microwave the halves for 4 minutes each. This will make the pieces much more tender and easy to cube.

Cut the pumpkin into small cubes and discard the rind.

You should have about 4 cups of cubes.

Heat 2 TBS butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Once the butter is fully melted and bubbling, add the pumpkin cubes, spices, and sugar.

If you cook the cubes for too long, you’ll end up with pumpkin mush instead, which is not what we’re going for here, so just fry them for 3-4 minutes, taste and adjust the seasoning.

Try not to eat all the pumpkin cubes at this time. I stopped after only 6, and I was quite proud of my self control.

Set aside the pumpkin cubes, and let’s get that salmon underway so that it’s done by the time the rice is ready.

Preheat the oven to 450, then heat an oven-proof pan (I used my trusty cast iron skillet) over high heat for 4 minutes. Rub both sides of the salmon fillets with olive oil and season the tops with salt, pepper, and the fennel pollen.

Go GENEROUS with the salt, and I’m talking generous. Once you think you’ve been generous, go ahead and salt it a little more. Use your fingers to spread the spice across the fillets evenly.

We’re keeping it simple here with the seasoning, and lemme tell ya–the flavors really shine through. When the pan is hot, place the fillets spiced-side down . . .

. . . and don’t touch them for at least 2 minutes.

Seriously! Get your mitts away from that pan! The underside should turn a gorgeous shade of brown. Now turn the pieces over gently (I recommend using a spatula).

Slap that pan into the oven and cook that fish for 5 to 7 minutes, then remove. Would you look at that perfect, beautiful sear? Would you look at that tender flesh? Oh my.

I should also drive home the fact that if you overcook your fish, doom and despair await–so make sure you take it out when it’s still tender!

Just in case you were curious, I cooked 2 salmon fillets and 2 steelhead fillets, which look very similar to the salmon. My fishmonger didn’t know what the difference was, and I needed to know. Answer: the salmon is 50 times more delicious, fatty, and luxuriant. The steelhead was more lean and stringy. The salmon was also twice the price. It presents a difficult dilemma in my life.

By now the rice is bound to be done, so simply stir in the frozen peas and pumpkin.