The Vacation Drink: A Mai Tai

Sean's dad lives in Hawaii, which means at least two times a year we visit. (Lucky us). Each trip we stay in the same boutique hotel, located way down Waikiki, in the shadow of Diamond Head Mountain, and on the edge of Kapiolani Park. 

This was the view from our room. 

Do you think you'd get tired of this? I didn't. And to prove it, I have about two dozen versions of the exact same photo taken from every possible angle and at every hour of the day. Sun rise, sunset, midday, dark. With billowing coconut trees and misty tropical rain.

The drink of the week was the Mai Tai. 

Seriously, I must have had close to a half-dozen Mai-Tais this trip, way more than any girl should consume in one vacation. Last February when we visited Hawaii, my drink of choice was the Pina Colada. I dreamed Pina Colada. But this trip it was the Mai Tai. Maybe because it's dark hue and sweet-tart taste reminded me a bit of these late days of summer? 

According to See Mix Drink by Brian D. Murphy, the Mai Tai was invented by Trader Vic in 1944. Vic concocted the drink one afternoon for friends who were visiting from Tahiti. After tasting it, one friend exclaimed, "Maita'i roa ae!" which means "Out of this world!" Vic liked what he heard and decided to name the drink the Mai Tai. 

To make your own Mai Tai you need the following:
1/2 oz. Oregat Syrup
1/2 oz. Orange Curacao
1/2 oz. Lime juice
1 oz. Light Rum
1 oz. Dark Rum

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Shake with ice. Strain into a rocks glass filled with ice. Garnish with a Maraschino cherry and a triangular hunk of fresh pineapple (the pineapple is not optional).

If you make a Mai-Tai at home, I highly suggest dressing them up a bit. The one in the above photo is missing the tiny neon umbrella -- something I consider to be The Essential Mai-Tai accessory.

Wine and Pizza

This pretty little book has gotten some pretty nice press in the past couple of days. Did you see it in T: The New York Times Style Blog or The San Francisco Chronicle? I'm so proud. 

What's your favorite wine to drink in summertime?

Last night I had a glass of Pey- Marin Riesling while I was making dinner. Crisp and dry and lightly floral, I think it would be perfect with oysters. Instead it helped make my job of tackling homemade pizza a little easier.

Here's what I learned last night: if I want crispy, thin crust pizza, I can't make it at home. But if I want doughy, bread-like pizza it may be worth it to wrangle the sticky dough, spread it as thin as possible with oil-slicked fingers, and pray as I'm topping it with homemade tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, and basil.

It's also good to remember that if it turns out the pizza is a little too flabby in the middle, I can always stick it back in the oven while I focus on eating pizza numero due, which is spread with a mint-fava bean puree, sliced zucchini, and lumps of fresh ricotta.

But the real lesson is that pizza tastes good almost any time, even if it isn't perfect. Also, wine helps.

Here's what I think we're having for dinner tonight. You?

Drinking Chocolate

I think this drinking chocolate would be perfect for an anniversary or Valentine's Day. It might even be perfect for an ordinary Friday night -- the kind of Friday night that hits you after a long, hard week. The kind of Friday night where you want to eat pasta dripping in olive oil, with fat chunks of roasted squash and fried sage. The kind of Friday night where you watch mindless tv because it feels so decadent, and make drinking chocolate, and pull shortbread cookies from the freezer only because the meal you had just wasn't enough (even though it should have been).

I find myself craving sugar and caffeine all the time right now. I'm completely restless with stress and excitement over the book (I got my first review!) and I'm working very intensely on three big projects. I'm trying to cut it out, to quit thinking about new things to bake and my mounting cake craving. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn't. But I'll tell you what, when there's a mid-afternoon chocolate beast that must be filled, this drinking chocolate -- served hot or cold -- sure hits the spot.

It's called drinking chocolate, because it makes regular old hot chocolate seem like a silly gateway drink. This stuff is a mix of heavy cream, milk, melted chocolate, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. The day after I made it, when I was scooping it, spoonful by spoonful, from the fridge I though it tasted just like melty chocolate ice cream. Then I realized it is, essentially, melted chocolate ice cream that just missed the freezing step.

Next time I might add cinnamon, or not. I'm really trying to focus on what I've got, and remember that no matter what happens next, this is more than good enough. 

1/2 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 cups whole milk
1 cup whipping cream
6 ounces semisweet chocolate chips
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1. Combine sugar and salt in the top of a double boiler. Slowly whisk in the milk, scraping the bottom and sides with a heatproof spatula to incorporate. Place over gently simmering water and stir occasionally. After about 10 minutes, when the milk is warm, but not boiling, add the chocolate. Continue stirring for about 2 to 4 minutes, or until the chocolate is melted and smooth and the drinking chocolate is warm but not scalding. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla.
2. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer (or skip this part and serve straight into individual cups.)

P.S. Are you interested in a book giveaway? Or perhaps a gift that comes with proof of pre-order? Say yes, please in the comments and I'll get to work.

Spiced Pecans

I've been working from my mom's house all week, camping out at her kitchen table and watching the snow fall. I've had my coffee, my NPR, and my neat little piles: a tiny red notebook to jot down ideas, a small address book (I'm always meaning to write more letters), a copy of the book catalog, a bound galley, and lists. Lots and lots of lists.

Yesterday I decided to abandon the lists. Baking sounded indulgent; relaxing; vacation-like. I made my neat little piles of spices, and prepared to roast some nuts.

Spiced nuts scream southern hospitality. They are perfect to wrap up for little hostess gifts or have on hand in case people stop by unexpectedly. I like them best with a glass of bubbly, but I like anything best with a glass of bubbly.

This recipe is nothing fancy, or hard, but it made me feel productive, like I was doing something worthy of a big fat mark of accomplishment. Shortly after I pulled the fragrant nuts from the oven, all hell broke loose. I spent hours on the telephone with my agent. The knots in my neck tied themselves into ever deeper coils. I thought about throwing something across the room.

Instead when my stomach screamed, I grabbed a handful of nuts and poured myself a very large glass of wine. These kicky, spicy, savory, bits totally hit the spot, even if I did feel like a 1950s angst filled writer, noshing away on salty nuts and pink wine before 5PM.

Later, my mom baked me brownies and served them warm with melty vanilla ice cream. But that's a whole other story.

Spiced Pecans
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 1/2 tablespoons light brown sugar
5 cups pecan halves
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350°. In a small bowl, combine the salt, black pepper, cayenne, cinnamon and brown sugar. Toss pecans with melted butter and spices till nuts are well coated. Spread the pecans on a large, rimmed baking sheet and toast for 10 minutes, until fragrant. Stir, than toast 5 to 7 minutes more. 

Un-Silent Night

We are in the time of the year when alcohol is flowing. I have been to a holiday party or two, out for drinks, had mimosas for breakfast, and sipped a hot toddy. Whatever I am doing, it seems to involve alcohol. Home has begun to feel like a place to dry out and catch up: eat something healthy, take my vitamins, rest and be quiet.

But sometimes in those quiet moments, I find myself craving a big glass of wine. I am in a red phase, deep, dark, inky red. It goes so well with the food of the season. But it is also a nice, austere dessert wine. I pour a glass, turn on the holiday tunes and get to work writing, or wrapping, or making my holiday to-do. Before I know it, the glass is done and I am warm and content.

But there's a little problem: opening an entire bottle can be such a commitment. For example -- last night I wanted a single glass of wine to sip at while watching Annie Hall and folding laundry. But my plans for Sunday and Monday were in flex, and opening an entire bottle just for myself seemed like such a waste. I could go out for a glass, but I couldn't take Annie. I could drink tea instead, but I really wanted wine.

I went out for a walk to think about it. It was crisp and cold and there were lights up everywhere. I passed a packed restaurant almost every block. Everywhere people were gathering to celebrate the season-- there wasn't room for me at any of those restaurants or bars. That was ok.

I ended up at my favorite local market, staring at full sized bottles of wine like a child on the candy aisle: longingly. And then a little red can caught my eye. It was Sofia Blanc de Blanc. In a brilliant marketing campaign the Niebaum- Coppola people have packaged this sparkling wine in candy-apple red cans that are vaguely reminiscent of the Tab soda my mother used to drink in the 80s. But this little package is filled with ever so much more fun.

The Sofia can is small and cute and shiny. There are curly ques and it comes with a little red straw. It was like my own private holiday party in a can. It was exactly what I wanted.

I went home, cracked open my sparkling and stuck in the petite straw. The wine was imperfect in comparison to the French champagnes I love and covet, but for this night, the holiday party for one featuring a guest appearance by Annie Hall, it was perfect.