New Year's Greetings!

That's all she wrote in 2008
But before it ends I just had to state
My apologies for not getting my act together
To write you each a warm new year's letter.
This rhyming attempt may be weak and retarded --
Next year I'll try to get you all carded!

How quickly the months passed! What a year has transpired!
Sarah Palin entertained us; Barack Obama inspired;
We picked up Senate seats, lost our shirts in the market;
I've been on the road with no chance to park it
To New York; Detroit; Philly and Boston!
To Chi-town, Louisville, San Fran and Austin!

We went up to New York in earliest spring
To hear Rich and Mindy's wedding bells ring
Then Tom and Mary Blaske hosted our wedding vows
Which we took 'neath the gazebo at Foxcroft House.

In June besides finally marrying Brad Katz,
I raised lots of money,saw the Louisville Bats,
Bet on the ponies, sipped lots of bourbon,
Knocked on Kentucky doors so suburban.
In November, Lunsford lost by a couple of digits
But a Brad at home makes a happier Bridget.

Such a strange wondrous year from finish to start!
I partied in NY with Nora C. and Madonna;
Bernie Madoff's hijinks broke my heart.
Shout out to my hometown and its poor Big 3 scions,
Its copious snow, and its winless Lions.

But a fresh start is at hand and times they do change
So I'm going to go drink une coupe du champagne,
Tip my hat to Roger Angell, and extend all my warmest wishes
To you, with a slight gloat, as I write from Paris, bitches!

Gifts for the Culinary Badass on Your List

Foodies should be easy to buy for, but they're not. You know they already cook a lot, so what if they already have that nifty new gadget you're eyeing in Crate & Barrel? You know they love cheese, but what if that fabulous wedge of Vermont cheddar turns out to be something entirely pedestrian and they never invite you to their holiday party again?

Never fear, the Culinary Badass Gift Guide is here. We'll go in descending in order in case there are any big spenders left in this economy.
Overdoing it
Caviar -- Truly, all I want for Christmas is this creme de la creme sampler. And some little buckwheat blini and creme fraiche. Oh, and some Cristal.

Really, I'm not high maintenance. Just expensive.

Cooking Lessons -- Not just any community ed cooking class, of course. I know I have a lot to learn and I think I could learn a ton from the pair of chefs behind Ideas in Food. They not only revel in the curiosity endemic to cooks and cooking ("what would happen if I braised this turkey in duck fat?," hypothetically, which I attempted to answer last week), they drop some serious science on you in the course of exploring and answering such questions. A night in a "Hands on with Liquid Nitrogen" class would doubtless yield some good ideas for revving up the occasional dinner party.

Custom-made pastry: Bryant Stuckey made a lovely croquembouche for my wedding, and I think a tasty tower of beautiful cream-filled pastry accented with spun sugar would make an equally festive New Year's Eve option.

The good stuff
Respect your Elders: St. Germain elederflower liquer adds a festively flowery kick to a gin and tonic, or mixes beautifully with champagne (not the Cristal!). Light a clove cigarette and get all Rive Gauche.

Scrape-free baking: The beater blade features little rubber fins that scrape the batter from the sides of your mixing bowl without your having to do the tiresome dance of stopping the KitchenAid, ratcheting down the mixer bowl, and scraping down the sides yourself. If you're a badass baker with places to go and people to see, you need this.

Luscious lushes, on the go: Since you can't take your bottles on the plane with you, bring a couple souvenirs from Napa bag safely in your checked luggage the Bottlewise way.








Nice for the Price
For potheads: How cute are these little clips that hold your spoon while you're cooking? How much time would I save cleaning off my countertip if I had one of these?!
Shrooms: This little jar of truffle salt adds a nice little hit of black truffly goodness to eggs or starches without the cloying, exaggerated flavor of truffle oil. Chardonnay oak-smoked salt is a beautiful accent to oysters, knocked back with a glass of Cakebread Cellars chardonnay.

Cheeseball: I'm waging a subtle campaign for liptauer and rye bread to replace hummus and pita as the hipster cocktail party snack fo 2010.
The kicker
This t-shirt by Married to the MOB, with its simple, acronymic question, would be the envy of any straight-up badass, not just a culinary one.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good meal!

NaNoWriMo

I'm failing doing National Novel Writing Month, for the third year. Even if you fail, I highly encourage you to check it out and flex your creative muscles.

At least it gives me an excuse for being a terrible blogger, as opposed to other months, when I am just an inexcusably terrible blogger.

Lady Apples

How do you like them apples? If you answered "small" then today is your lucky day, my friend. The lady apples have arrived.

These tiny, rosy-cheeked, tart and tasty little guys are in stores now, and they are impeccable sliced up and tossed up in a salad of mache or baby greens, a splash of sherry vinaigrette, and slivers of shaved manchego. Or take them for a sweet turn with Martha's easy recipe for fun caramel lady apples.

Still mad for Mad Men, but especially the Mad Women

The second season of Mad Men seems over almost before it began. I don't know how I'm going to get through the long, cold, post-election winter stretching out ahead of us without it. But they went out with a bang -- or at least, the contemplation of one during Cuban Missile Crisis. All sesason long, Mad Men has successfully juxtaposed the simple but profound changes wrought by new technology -- television, the photocopier -- with its equal capacity for devastating destruction -- the American Airlines crash, the threat of nuclear weapons.

I know the NY Times is whining about the general melancholia of this season, but I actually found its depiction of its characters' confrontation of a new, horrific and unknowable reality -- and decision to seize it as a chance to fundamentally change themselves and their lives -- not only elegant, but inspiring. Peggy's move into Fred Rumsen's old office; Betty's random end-of-the-world sex and contemplation of an abortion; Peggy's confession to Pete about having his baby -- all of these prompted fist-pumping feelings of solidarity. While mindful of the desperation and pain that have moved the characters to these actions, knowing that we as a species came through that episode in 1962 more or less intact, I was happy for a prime-time example of the rare clarity provided to humankind by events like this. In the midst of a fierce crisis of our own on many fronts -- and confronted with an unprecedented opportunity for change -- I hope some of us will exhibit the same clarity and courage.

PoMs, and the End of Old

So, Saturday I went to the Sticky & Sweet concert in NYC.

Nothing bad about that: a best girlfriend came up to the city; we had some decadent times; saw the sights and enjoyed gorgeous autumns weather. All in all excellent. Madonna's concert was spectacular in the most literal sense of the word: Lights, costumes, dancers. Pharell Williams. A Rolls Royce. It was a great show: like you and 50,000 of your best friends dancing to a remixed version of Madonna's newest album and greatest hits, singing along and waving your arms and throwing up horns. It rocked.

That also was kind of its problem. Madonna is the best and worst of this show. She entertains you with two hours of the most imaginative, athletic dancing and soulful singing you can imagine, putting a whole new spin and a whole new soul into tunes you've loved for years. The trouble is, she does so after making you wait for more than 90 minutes. And then she berates you. "Stand up, New York!" she shouted. "You guys are pussies! Show some respect." The show opens with five minutes of her growling "My sugar is rawwwww" into the microphone. That's where the bar is set, and about where it stays. Show some respect?! How about the 90 steamy, dinnerless minutes we just spent waiting for that? We are prisoners. Prisoners of Madonna (PoMs).

But my fellow Prisoners did not care. The excellent thing is, she gets away with that because she is Madonna. And she is 50. And she makes being 50 look like the most awesome thing ever.

At the beginning of the show, she slowly emerges onstage, sitting at the top of a flight of steps, one leather boot-clad leg drapped nonchalantly over the arm of a giant black-lacquered throne, the back of which is arched in an elaborate "M". Her dancers bow before her and one of them hands her a tall pimp cane. Then she gets Pharrell and the Rolls. Then she does double-dutch jump-roping. THEN she undulates against a stripper pole on a mobile platform attached to a DJ scratching the shit out of a couple of turntables. THEN she thrashes on her guitar.

At which point I said to myself, "I want all that! The pimp cane. The rolls. The adulation of dancers and audiences. The guitar-thrashing. And most of all, those most awesome black leather Louboutins.

If this is fifty, sign me the fuck UP! I am so there!!!"

Considering that I don't play guitar, know Pharrell, have access to a Rolls or thigh-high Christian Louboutin boots, or have many screaming fans at this point, it's a good thing I have twenty years to work on this. Thanks, Madge, for the lesson.

Eat this right now

You have maybe a week left in which to catch fresh figs at the market. Go get some and rinse them off. Quarter a few (three or four) and toss them with arugula, olive oil, lemon juice, pepper and salt, and toss with a few shavings of pecorino. Comme ca.

Post haste!