December 2010
16 posts
The Tagine Dream.
I’ve always wanted a tagine simply because I love saying the word. So sophisticated! Just like quinoa was for a second- but I’m over that. So when my family went to Morocco over the holidays, this was my burning desire. A tagine to call my own. They got back late last night with jet lag, mint tea and my exotic dome-shaped friend. She’s a beauty. However, I have no idea what to do...
My Two True Loves: Coffee and Cake.
Like most of you, I’ve been snowed in pretty bad, lurking around my apartment, all stubble-legged and sweatpanty. Been living in a fuzzy haze of cheap wine, Christmas candy and Camille Grammer, and while I kinda love it, I’m feeling grey-skinned and unglam - not to mention itchy as hell (Winter Itch, i hate you!!!). The good news is that nesting leads to baking and baking leads to...
Love to all.
Wishing everyone a white Christmas, a light heart and a weekend of well-earned empty calories. xxAlyssa
Rhymes with Entertain. . .
Tonight was an achiote-sprinkled milestone. I made a dish that took more than 20-minutes (more like 200 mintues) and I think I didn’t ruin it. Introducing Emeril’s Beef and Plantain Pie from his Potluck cookbook. Why? Because I love plantains and I’m a self-centered cook, and because my half-Spanish friend is coming over and he’s always hungry. It’s in the oven now,...
Crossing Over.
Get out the binoculars. Between noon and 2 today, I lose my Fresh Direct virginity. I know, late bloomer, but I’m a run-to-the-market kind of girl. I could graze thru grocery aisles forever. Watch me at Fairway, I give new meaning to the slow food movement. Like a little pleasant lady, purchasing my daily produce/baguette is a pleasure I’d (normally) never mix with charmless...
Model Behavior.
So I sat next to Helena Christensen the other night while she appeared to be on a first date. She was beautiful and nervous, with the smokiest of eyes and best shag cut I’ve ever seen. Her date seemed younger, British, boyish and bloody rich. (Before she arrived, I got all motormouth about my “Craigslist freebies” compulsion -that convo lasted real long.) Then she turned the...
Apron Accessory.
This little interview makes me feel v. cool, thanks to Julie at The Accessory Files. I’m wearing my warmest, plushest, prettiest, brattiest bathrobe and slippers all day in her honor. With love, hot cocoa & some totally accidentally stolen cashmere (long story), Alyssa
Beef Stew for Busy Lives.
My sister, Rachel, works at Real Simple magazine, a lovely job which entails several foreign concepts to me and my self-employed parents: She’s the only Shelasky who gets on the subway at 9:33am with a tailored skirt and freshly-blown hair. She reports to a real, live boss (whom she loves). She has a lunch break. She does not conduct business from the bathtub. And most importantly/selfishly,...
Almost Human.
I’m a semi-functional human being again.
In other words, I can talk and laugh and eat almost anything, but when the sun goes down, the dental demons let loose. I’ve had no night life and it’s no fun at all. My stick-in-the-mud meter is way up and I’m desperate for the devil inside who could once handle both a dinner and a movie.
Then again, today is perfection for a...
Speaking of Andy Warhol. . .
Now, somewhere between tweaking and toothless, seems like the perfect time to request soup secrets. I’ve only made chicken soup once and all I can remember is how mortifyingly easy it was. I mean, it takes less effort to make your own healthy, delicious soup than shlep to the store for a mysteriously-dusty can. But who am I to preach. Just please send some simple recipes to your sad friend...
Going the Distance.
Tumblr has been revived and so has my appetite.
Whoever said you lose weight from wisdom tooth surgery has never experienced chocolate mousse morning, noon and night. In a cruel twist of food fate, the Vicodin has led me to a blur of binge eating. Such bullshit! I thought the upside of tooth agony is the downsize of waistline? Painkillers whatever. What kind of speed freak goes on an...
Le pain for le pain.
I might be too drugged to blog for a bit.
It’s wisdom tooth week. Wish me luck. All four f*ckers.
Here’s a recipe to carry you while I cry over romantic comedies and marry myself to chocolate marshmallow shakes. What’s the point if I can’t milk it?
My friend Rachel swears by this crostini. She’s pregnant and picky with high standards and low patience. I...
