A Very Special French Laundry at Home: Happy Blogiversary!

As I mentioned in my previous post, this is a Very Special French Laundry at Home. And, as wise as you are and as well as you've come to know me, more than a few of you have emailed to ask, "Holy crap, are we going to learn a serious life lesson like on those 'very special' episodes of Facts of Life?"

I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this Very Special edition of French Laundry at Home will not feature cousin Geri. It will not overcome great odds. There will not be a cameo by Charo. It will not recover from tragedy. It will not address a taboo social issue. There will not be a guest appearance by Jim J. Bullock. There will be no hugging, no learning. Kristy McNichol is not in the building.


Instead, there will be champagne and lots of eating because today is a very special day (to me anyway). It's the one-year blogiversary of French Laundry at Home. As you know, I started this site on January 15, 2007 with the intent of spending two years cooking every dish in The French Laundry Cookbook. So much for that timeline, eh? Once I started cooking, I just couldn't stop. It's too freakin' addictive! In just a year, I've cooked 71 out of 100 dishes, and I am having the time of my life. I hope you are, too.

Based on the spike in email and site traffic that started right after Christmas, it seems like many of you have either dusted off your copy of The French Laundry Cookbook, permanently borrowed one from the library, or received a copy as a gift. Congrats, and welcome! Oh, and call someone else for bail money if you get busted for the library theft. I can't help ya there.

Many of you who've been in touch over the past few weeks have asked what my favorite dishes have been so far, or what I would recommend you try if you got The French Laundry Cookbook as a holiday gift, so let me spend my blogiversary telling you just that.

First, let's start with the Top Ten. They're in no particular order, and asking me to rank them would be very Sophie's Choice of you, so I'm not gonna do it. I love all ten equally.

1) Oysters and Pearls: The only oyster dish I will ever eat. Enough said.

2) Linguine with White Clam Sauce: Easy, easy, easy, especially when you cheat and use store-bought pasta like I did. The reason this made the list is not just because it is excellent, it's also because I have an emotional connection to this dish. It came at a time when I found out I had skin cancer and another friend got some bad news about her father. So, it was so wonderful to sit with my friends around my dining room table and have not just this dish, but the giant bowl of leftover pasta with clam sauce and a few glasses of wine to try and feel better. It worked.

3) Sweet Potato Agnolotti with Sage Cream, Brown Butter, and Prosciutto: If it were possible to marry food, meet my new husband. But, ssshhhhh... don't tell my boyfriend, Mike Bloomberg.

4) Black Sea Bass with Sweet Parsnips, Arrowleaf Spinach, and Saffron-Vanilla Sauce: After I divorced the Agnolotti, I'd shack up with this dish for sure. Also, keeping The Bloom in play, because, hello, I think I'd make a fantastic First Lady.

5) Roulade of Pekin Duck Breast with Creamed Sweet White Corn and Morel Mushroom Sauce: One of the best things I've ever put in my mouth. Also see: notes on the duck dish at Per Se. I feel the same way about this dish.

6) Coffee and Doughnuts: I know you haven't seen the post for this yet. It's coming I swear, and it's full of slightly drunk, caffeinated goodness, and doughnuts that are, um, shall we say an interesting shape.

7) Cream of Walnut Soup: I associate this with snow and a cold, cold day. Nothing better than the near-silence outside when it's snowing hard, and you've got a little shot glass of hot cream of walnut soup in your hands. Really, life doesn't get much better than that. Well, except when I become the First Lady in a Bloomberg White House. That might be better than the Cream of Walnut Soup, but not by much.

8) Lemon Sabayon Pine Nut Tart with Honeyed Mascarpone Cream: I hate lemons almost as much as I hate celery, but I loved this dish. Go figure.

9) Tasting of Potatoes with Black Truffle: It's only been a week or so since I've made this, yet I dream about that potato purée all the time.

10) Butter-Poached Maine Lobster with Leeks, Pommes Maxim and a Red Beet Essence: Butter, lobster, beets... three of my favorite foods. It's perfect. The only way to make it better would be to add bacon, so... um.... guess what I'll be trying this weekend?!?!?!?

So, those are the dishes I think I love the most (so far). Now, here are the dishes I think could pop your French Laundry Cookbook cherry:

Gazpacho: So simple and straightforward. You can't screw this up. It's a great place to start.

Gougères: Again, there's really no way to mess this up. They're easy and will be gone in minutes, they're that good.

Black Sea Bass with Parsnips: This was one of the simplest dishes to do, and it's really, really good.

Salmon and Celery: Yes, I know I pitched a fit about how much I hate celery, but you could make it without it, or use something else in its place. This dish was really easy and a real crowd pleaser.


And, the dishes I will likely do over because I'm pissed off they didn't work the first time, or I know I can do them better:

PB&J

Spotted Skate Wing: This time with skate instead of halibut.

Chocolate Cakes with Beet Ice Cream: I need those cakes to work, damnit.

Crème de Farine: I know, I know, being married to Dick Cheney would be a far easier and less painful form of torture, but I don't care. I want to get that dessert right. Or at least, less pitiful-looking. I owe it to The Durf. Durfster. Steeeeve. Steeeeve-a-reeeeno. Duurrrrrrrrfff.

Pot Au Feu: No brainer. Those cock-ups were all my fault. I can make this work. And, so can you -- it's also a pretty easy one, if you can, you know, tell the difference between buying beef and pork. Gah.

Agnolotti: Any kind, any filling. I will go to my grave having accomplished a beautiful agnolotti, even if it takes me until I'm 100 years old.


I know I was all gushy and mushy in my end-of-year post back in December, but I can't close this post without again thanking you for being such great readers. Your witty emails and comments make my day, and even the bitchy ones make me smirk because I can say nasty things back to you as I'm reading your email and you won't know it, so ha ha ha on you!

Before I go, and this really is a Very Special thing, I want to tell you about the money you raised for Share Our Strength, because honestly, I'm blown away. I kicked off the fundraising drive back in August expecting to raise between $250-500 by the end of the year, but really didn't pester you too much about it until closer to Thanksgiving when I just wouldn't shut up about it. And, it worked.

The results are in and my original secret goal of $500 was way off, because from August through the end of 2007, we raised $3,000!

I originally said I would match 10% of the total donation, but I've changed my mind. You guys opened your hearts and your wallets and it's only right that I do the same. So, I'm actually going to match 50% of the total and donate $1,500, for a total of $4,500.

Let me take a moment to thank those who opted-in to be thanked publicly:

Kristen Byrne
Brian Chan
Carolyn Ciesla
Mr. and Mrs. Michael Karchmer
Elizabeth McGhee

I want to thank each and every one of you, on this list or not, who donated to this worthy cause. I am so grateful that you all are as kind and generous as you are.

Thanks again for such a great year, and for making this one-year milestone such a pleasure to reach.

I had the great pleasure of being in New York this past weekend with my family to celebrate my dad's birthday, so I'll be back in a few days with an actual food post. If you want, please feel free to use the comments section to wish my dad a happy birthday. He'd love it. Well, he'll love it once he's done killing me for telling the entire internet about his birthday. Oh well, he's so old he'll probably forget about it in a day, anyway. KIDDING.

Or, use the comments to tell me what you're cooking these days -- French Laundry Cookbook-related, or not. I'm curious...

Up Next: Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots (featuring my backyard version of Marlin Perkins' Wild Kingdom)

Read my previous post: Salmon "Chops" with Celery and Black Truffles

French Laundry at Home: The Year in Review

Ah, the end of one year and the beginning of a new. For some, myself included, the new year comes in September -- when the sloth of summer takes a sharp turn into crisper weather and busy schedules, and memories of the smell of pencil lead and paper cuts from a just-opened packet of notebook paper.

However, I also celebrate the new year just like everyone else does -- when December turns into January, and you screw up the first 10 or 15 checks you write by filling in the wrong year on the dateline. At this time of year, the one thing it seems like a lot of my friends are talking about are their New Year's resolutions. In fact, I bet some of you are thinking, "Gee, I don't know what New Year's resolutions I should make this year. Let's see what Carol has up HER sleeve!" (and seriously, if any of you actually DID think that, you need to have a drink; I mean it)

Cream of Walnut Soup, February 25, 2007


The thing is, if you're coming here for answers, you're S.O.L. I don't make New Year's resolutions. What I do instead at this time of year is spend a little time thinking about what I've liked about the past 12 months or so, as well as what I might want to do in the coming year. I spend an afternoon just like I did today going through old email, reading through my datebook, perusing pages of some of my journals, and thinking about what I've accomplished or what made me happy.


Carnaroli Risotto, March 10, 2007


Last year at this time, I looked back on 2006 and my first reaction was that I thought the year was in the shitter. My grandmother died, I had a few health problems (none of them serious, just mostly annoying), went through a crappy breakup, saw some legislation my colleagues and I worked hard on get vetoed by the President, and missed out on an opportunity to move to New York. As soon as I finished making that mental list, I actually sat back and thought, "WAITAMINUTE! Despite a few disappointments here and there, on the whole 2006 was actually a pretty good year." I spent time with great friends and loved ones, signed on lots of new clients, built up a healthy bank account, made some much-needed cosmetic changes to my home, set aside time to write and read, traveled, and experienced countless other things I know I sometimes take for granted and shouldn't.

So, while I knew deep down inside that 2006 was actually a pretty great year, I couldn't get past this noodgey feeling that something was just off. And then I realized what it was: I was bored.

It's no good when I'm bored. Not at all. I get cranky and annoying. More so than usual, I should clarify. And, I just kind of coast and then annoy myself in ADDITION to annoying others. So, yeah; boredom, not so good.

Because I love making lists more than you'll ever know, I made a list last year of anti-boredom things I thought I should do in 2007 -- house renovations, business expansion, travel, shampoo purchases, etc. -- but as I was writing it, nothing was really jumping out at me. Sure, they were all things I could do, but somehow, I knew I'd still be bored.


Salad of Haricots Verts, March 18, 2007


So, instead of a big to-do list of crap I knew would deliver yet another boring year, I decided to go a different route and figure out an overarching strategy for the year. Yes, people, I gave 2007 a theme. Because if you didn't already know I was a huge nerd, you sure do now.

Instead of resolutions or a list of specific goals for that year, giving a year a theme is something that I've done off and on throughout my adult life -- sometimes without even knowing I was doing so. For example, 1999 was The Year I'm Not Learning Anything, and I dove headfirst (more than I usually do) into trashy magazines and bad television with no apologies. When not at work, I really tried hard to let my brain go to mush as often as possible, and it was great. 2001 was the year I started my own company, so I really didn't have a theme other than Let's Not Have 2001 Be the Year I Declare Bankruptcy Because That Would Totally Suck. 2002's theme was I Made It Through The First Year of Business So Let's See If We Can Keep This Gravy Train Moving Along Because Going Bankrupt Now Would Be Embarrassing and Also Suck. 2005 was The Year I Will Not Put Up With Bullshit From People (an incredibly liberating year, as I'm sure you can imagine). 2006 didn't really have a theme, which ipso facto, The Year I Was So Bored And Thus Annoying and Cranky That I Can't Believe Someone Didn't Punch Me in the Throat Because, MAN.


Chicken Stack-Ups (hee!), April 1, 2007


I decided that if I was really going to do this theme thing for 2007 (again, NERD), I needed to pull a little mental jujitsu on myself and declare 2007 as The Year of Yes. Now, that didn't mean that I was going to say "yes" to everything that came my way, because, hello, basket case. I'm very good at saying no, and turning down stuff that I think will infringe upon the very little amount of personal life a self-employed person tends to have. But I needed something that would stave off another year of impending boredom, so I was willing to try anything. I didn't have specific criteria for The Year of Yes, but my thinking went a little something like this: If I've never done it before, or I'm reluctant to try it, I'd say "yes." (get your minds out of the gutter, you sick, sick people) If something seemed the least bit daunting or made me wrinkle my nose or clench my shoulders in trepidation, I was going to say "yes." If something seemed preposterous and could very likely crash and burn in a heap of firey failure, I'd say "yes." I decided that for me the only way to not be bored was to leap before I looked and enjoy the ride. The goal wasn't to say "yes" to everything or to the things I would ordinarily say "no" to. It was to say "yes" to the things I would have ordinarily said, "Are you f-ing kidding me?!?!?!?" to.

The first thing I said yes to was on January 3rd, 2007 when a friend asked me to teach public relations writing in the Masters program at Johns Hopkins University. Me? A teacher? A professor? I don't even HAVE a graduate degree, and I was pretty sure I'd suck at teaching other people what I do for a living. But, I agreed to do it, and you know what? It was a TON of work but I loved it, and I found out I'm actually pretty good at it. I loved it so much that I followed her to Georgetown and now I teach part-time in the Masters program there. My students have been amazing, and I learn as much from them as I hope they learn from me.


Cherries, July 2, 2007


Another thing I said "yes" to was hosting a radio show. I talk to the media all the time for my job; and, I have hosted segments and done panel discussions on-air here in the DC market, but I've never hosted my own show. So, when the host of a program I was a panelist on left the program and they asked me to take over, I said "yes" and it's been fantastic. The show runs on the eight Clear Channel-owned radio stations here in the DC market every Sunday morning, and I love every minute of it. Even the hate mail from listeners who think we're full of crap (which sometimes we totally are).

Something else I said "yes" to this year were two enormous and daunting client projects that a year ago I would've turned away without even considering. One involved a high-profile international celebrity, and the other one involved a government program for people with disabilities. Both projects took me out of my professional comfort zone and have led to other things in the pipeline for 2008. I've grown so much both personally and professionally as a result of working on these two projects, and met some amazing people in the process. And, to be totally selfish, my bank account ain't suffering, either.


Heirloom Tomatoes, August 9, 2007


But the one thing I decided to do in 2007, this Year of Yes, that has taken on a life of its own and in fact has changed me the most, is this very blog. I started it because one morning I had the TV on in the background as I was cleaning the house, and got really angry that people who were watching a particular program on a particular cable network were expected to believe that dumping some vodka and a taco seasoning packet on a store-bought rotisserie chicken was a great idea for dinner. I was ranting inside my head composing a hateful letter to that cable channel's programmming VP just as I was dusting my bookshelves, and there it was: The French Laundry Cookbook -- a book I often thought deserved white-glove treatment and should be viewed only under glass because it is so lovely and clean and full of delicious, crisp writing and storytelling... and a book I admire and respect for its dedication to the pursuit of perfection.

I pulled the book off the shelf, turned off the TV, plunked down on the sofa, pulled a heavy wool blanket over my lap, and started gingerly turning the pages once again, as I had done at least once every month for YEARS. But this time, it felt different. As most people who know me in real life will attest, I, too, am a bit obsessed with the pursuit of perfection. I don't like to be wrong about anything, and I can't stand it when I don't live or work up to my own expectations or standard of perfection. So, when I read through The French Laundry Cookbook in the past, I saw it as something that would give me more than 100 ways to screw up, not live up to my own standard of perfection, and be a big, fat failure.

But opening The French Laundry Cookbook that day felt different from all the other days I'd looked at it before. I actually felt as though I might be able to pull off one or two of the dishes. As I continued looking through it, I flipped the pages faster and faster, realizing that everything about the dishes appealed to my sense of order, time management, discipline, and list-making obsession. And, something just clicked.

I decided right then and there that there was no point to my anger at the cable channel I'd been pissed off about because its programming wasn't going to change, nor was it going away. So, instead of trying to find a way to prove them wrong (because I'm not really a stubborn 5-year old although I sometimes play one on TV), I decided instead to prove to myself that I could cook every dish in the heavy, gorgeous, pristine book that was sitting in my lap. And, as I reached to open the drawer in the coffee table to get a pad of paper and a pen to make a grocery list, it hit me -- maybe I should do a blog about cooking every dish in this cookbook. I have to say, even though I'd set up blogs for clients and other people, I wasn't necessarily a big fan of blogging. So, I asked myself, "Who the hell would read a blog about me cooking every recipe in The French Laundry Cookbook?" I counted: My mom, my dad, eight or nine friends who liked food, and maybe a cousin or two. Were a dozen readers worth it? At that point, I felt the shoulder shrug and wrinkled nose thing going on that told me I was shirking it for some reason, so I said (out loud, strangely enough), "Fine. I'll do it." I just figured I'd give it a go and see what happened. If it sucked, it sucked, and I'd just delete it after a few posts and pretend like nothing happened.

I turned to page 35 of the book -- Gazpacho -- wrote down the ingredients, drove to Whole Foods, bought everything I needed, and got started that afternoon.


Gazpacho, January 15, 2007


As soon as I'd done the first dish, I was hooked. I was already a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself, but this gazpacho was better than any I'd ever made before. And, not only did the gazpacho taste amazing, the whole process of planning and shopping for it, as well as making it, was energizing. Sharing it with my friends and neighbors, and anxiously awaiting their response, was nerve-wracking and powerful all at the same time. I was slightly giddy as my guests left and I started the dishwasher.

I went upstairs to my little home office, loaded the photos onto my laptop, and opened a Blogger account. When I started to type my first post, I felt a little guarded, like I was putting myself out there more than I was comfortable with. I proofed and spell-checked the post, and as soon as I clicked the "Publish" button on that first entry, I knew I was in for a wild ride. But I didn't know then what I know now -- that the book and this blog would unlock something in me I still can't quite define.

It may sound odd coming from someone as cynical and snarky as I am, but doing this blog and cooking this food has changed my life. Okay, maybe "changed my life" is too much. It's really more that it's made me more comfortable and happy in a life I already loved. I've fallen in love with my kitchen again (I was in a long-held "hate" stage in my love-hate relationship with that room), and reclaimed a part of my brain I'd long since ignored. I've been able to write about something I love. I've been able to hear from so many of you about what you love about cooking and food. I've eaten amazing food in my kitchen, as well as others. I've become a better cook because I'm more open to taking risks in the kitchen. I've received the most kind and generous advice and counsel from some of the best in the business. I've received accolades I never thought possible. I've met one of my literary heroes.

But above all, and perhaps MOST important -- I wasn't bored for one single day of the year because I was doing something that fed me in a way I didn't know I needed. And, you all are a big part of that -- so, THANK YOU. I'm grateful that you come here to see what I'm up to, and I love your comments and email, so keep 'em comin'. I'll need it when in a month or two I have to slice the skin off a baby cow's tongue and try really, really hard not to vomit. Repeatedly. For days. Because, ack.

So, what's my theme for 2008? No clue. But I hope you'll stick around to find out. In the meantime, I'm raising a glass of wine here at my desk to clink with yours in wishing you a happy, healthy 2008.

Happy new year, everyone!

Read my previous post: Roquefort Trifle with French Butter Pear Relish