A truffleless truffle pizza

Today I had lunch at La Bottega on the Maritime hotel's sunny deck. It's a place I love, though only on weekday afternoons. At night and during brunch on the weekend, it's much more of a scene with service that is both snooty and spotty.

I discovered the Maritime when the Food Network offices moved to the swanky meatpacking district over 2 years ago. On my department's first visit, I was delighted to find an outdoor oasis that felt more Miami than Manhattan. Paper lanterns dangled from the sky and bright blue and white umbrellas were scattered throughout the stylish space. I expected a pool to be waiting right around the corner.

While the restaurant's ambiance had won me over instantly, I wasn't sure what to expect from the food. One bite of the robiola, olio and tartufato bianco, a pizza-style sandwich slathered with soft cow's milk cheese and topped with an intoxicatingly delicious drizzle of white truffle oil, and I was hooked. I ordered it on all future visits, and today, during an impromptu lunch with the crew from Dave Does (Food Network's online only web series), would be no different.

After settling in at a large, cozy table in the back, we started with some antipasti, including seared tuna tossed with cannellini beans and olive oil and a fava bean, pecorino and mint salad. Both were light and refreshing, and had I known better, I would have ordered the salmon tartare I'd been eyeing and called it a day.

When the pizzas finally arrived, Dave Lieberman, the host of Dave Does, immediately announced that mine did not have any truffle oil on it. I thought he was wrong since I'd gotten a whiff of that distinctive scent the moment our plates hit the table, but after one bite, I knew that the unthinkable had happened. My truffle pizza had in fact been delivered without truffle oil. To some people, this might not be such a travesty, but to someone who expects all her meals to exceed expectations, this was close to catastrophic.

By the time the star ingredient did arrive, our waitress, who was fairly nonchalant about the whole ordeal, drizzled a few drops on my now cold slice. Still excited for that first bite, I was disappointed to find that the bread had become soggy and the cheese, usually warm and creamy, had hardened slightly. Even a few extra drops of truffle oil didn't help revive my lackluster robiola. Never one for waste, I still ate every last bite, but the experience was not nearly as euphoric.

Although my days of ordering this precious pizza are now over, it might not be such a bad thing. Sometimes I let my love of one dish keep me from exploring any others. So rather than ban La Bottega from my restaurant repertoire due to their grave mistake today, I've decided to use this as an opportunity to explore the rest of their menu on future visits. The way I see it, who would want plain old cheese and bread (even if it sometimes does come with a splash of white truffle oil) when they can have octopus carpaccio with fennel and celery, pan roasted sea scallops with lentils, or homemade butternut squash ravioli with sage instead?

La Bottega
The Maritime Hotel
363 W 16th St., at 9th Ave.
212-243-8400

High tea and a homemade dinner

From a food standpoint, Friday was perfect. Amanda and I planned to leave work early so we could celebrate her birthday which my Pacific Northwest trip caused me to miss. For her birthday last year, we took a private knitting class together at Point and for mine, we had side by side reflexology treatments at heavenly Angel Feet. I wanted to keep the creative celebrations going, so I thought of Lady Mendl's, a tea salon in the Inn at Irving. Though Amanda had been to the inn once for breakfast, she had never experienced their 5-course royal tea service.

It wasn’t until 2:45 that we finally managed to finish up for the day, cutting it close for our 3pm reservation. After a typically frustrating ride in Chelsea Market's elevator, we weaved our way through the crowded corridor past Amy’s Bread, Fat Witch Brownies and Eleni’s cookies, the smells from each shop taunting my starving stomach, only to step outside and be met by an uncooperative summer storm. As we stood stranded under an awning, buckets of rain poured down and occupied cabs whizzed by, sadly threatening our chances of getting to the tea in time. After about five minutes, the rain had still not subsided, but that didn’t keep Amanda from suddenly dashing across the street, determined to flag down a cab that had just turned on 16th, her umbrella flapping behind her as the wind tried to take it away.

The situation felt very similar to this past February during the South Beach Food & Wine Festival when a huge storm broke out during Bobby Flay’s Bubble Q, a beach barbecue extravaganza. On that same evening, Amanda and her husband, Jeff had ran for shelter when the rain was still coming down fairly lightly, while Daniel and I waited, crammed inside a tent with about 100 other people, sure we would escape without feeling a drop. Soon the rain became torrential, flooding the tent and forcing us to flee into the swanky Delano Hotel, soaked and miserable, before walking barefoot in shin-deep water back to our hotel. On that evening, I'd already eaten a fair share of barbecue, and was in no mood to venture back out after a shower and change of clothes. During Friday's storm, it was close to 3pm, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Sometimes the pursuit of good food requires extreme measures, so seconds later, I sprinted across 9th Ave, and slid into the cab behind Amanda, my sandaled feet wet and grimy.

When we arrived at Lady Mendl's, we shed our umbrellas, freshened up quickly in the bathroom, and finally settled in at a corner table topped with long lavender candlesticks, matching bouquets of purple flowers and china sets with frilly floral patterns. We also had a perfect view of the storm that didn’t seem quite as dismal now that we’d found shelter. Polite waiters (who insisted on calling us Madame) floated around the fancy room with pots of tea and platters of bite-sized sandwiches, scones and other dainty treats while rain streaked down the windows.



When presented with a dizzying list of teas, I opted for a chai, craving its spicy finish and Amanda went caffeine-free with some chamomile before we both started off with some lightly dressed greens. Soon after our waiter returned with a silver tray full of tea sandwiches, each type served on soft, fresh bread. While all of them were delicious, it’s the simple cucumber with mint creme fraiche on brioche that I could eat every day. Light yet buttery, it just melts in your mouth, feeling both proper due to its petite size, and child-like in its crustless form.

After two rounds of finger sandwiches, we were presented with scones, clotted cream (a thick, buttery type that is made by heating and then leaving unpasteurized cow's milk in shallow pans for several hours) and tangy raspberry preserves. Unlike the supersized scones sold throughout the city, these were dainty little rounds with a tender, flaky crumb that clung to each swipe of cloud-like cream we smeared on them.

I felt that I could sit there forever, sipping tea and playing verbal volleyball with Amanda, talking about marriage, our growing baby fever, fear of losing our freedom when babies do finally come, and our mutual love of New York. Amanda was a perfect high tea companion. She loves food as much as I do and we never run out of things to discuss, dissect and discuss again.

By close to 5pm, we’d received our last two courses, the first being a 100 layer crepe cake that looks light and refreshing, but is actually quite rich due to the sweet whipped cream that’s sandwiched in between. After polishing off our slices, we were so full that the final course, a plate of cookies and chocolate covered strawberries, received very little attention. Though we couldn’t eat or think much about food anymore, we still had an entire evening of cooking ahead of us.

While I have cooked with some of my friends before, I'll admit it's not my preferred form of food preparation. I can’t completely enjoy my time with someone when I’m worrying if the cutting board they just used for raw chicken is the same one they’re using to chop vegetables. Luckily, when we'd decided a few weeks earlier to cook dinner together with Daniel and Jeff, Amanda volunteered her apartment.

Summer demands unfussy food and a menu of gazpacho and crab cakes would deliver just that. Lady Mendl’s is within walking distance of Whole Foods, so we headed over there to pick up vegetables for the soup, $80(!) worth of lump crabmeat for the crab cakes, some Niman Ranch dry salami and a hunk of Manchego for a pre-dinner snack, and two pints of ice cream, including Sticky Toffee Pudding, a new Haagen Daazs flavor created by the winner of Food Network's Scoop contest, for dessert.

After unloading the groceries at Amanda's apartment, Jeff set to work squeezing limes for his homemade margaritas, Amanda started prepping all the vegetables for the gazpacho, and Daniel and I teamed up to make the crab cakes.



While Amanda was amazed by Daniel’s stellar knife skills, I was more impressed by her completely relaxed state, even as we made a mess of her kitchen, dirtied a lot of dishes and rummaged through her cabinets. Maybe it's that she's been blessed with a dishwasher (something Daniel and I have never had in all our seven years of living and cooking together), or the fact that her kitchen is a bit more spacious than our sliver of a cooking space, or that we chose easy recipes (not the complicated ones I choose to torture myself with), but the entire process was painless. Sipping one of Jeff’s homemade margaritas -- with crushed ice to make it slushy, as he explained -- and being serenaded by Stevie Wonder, made it that much better.

After Daniel molded the crabcakes into perfect rounds the size of quarter pounders, we popped them and the big bowl of summery soup in the refrigerator to chill, then retreated to the living room. Amanda tried to explain to me why everyone in the world is suddenly so obsessed with Sudoku, while Daniel and Jeff swapped similar political views, and at some point, my margarita glass was refilled, which I would only really regret the next morning.



Almost exactly an hour later, our husbands, who clearly did not finish a 5-course tea at 5pm, were getting feisty. We promptly started with the gazpacho, a soup that I only learned to love about two years ago during a sweltering trip to Spain when only big bowls of it offered much relief from the blazing sun.



Though this particular gazpacho could have chilled longer, its colorful assortment of chopped up plum tomatoes, hothouse cucumbers, peppers and red onions provided a refreshing prelude to our summer dinner. Once we scraped our bowls clean, we moved on to the crab cakes, which were plump with a light golden crust. They tasted good on their own, but even better when topped with a nice dollop of remoulade. After a short digestion period, we devoured two pints of ice cream, lingering at the table for a long time after, extremely full, but proud of the satisfying meal we'd made together.

While I don't think I'll be whipping up dinners during the week with friends all the time, I think it’s safe to say that my fear of communal cooking has been overcome. It’s much cheaper than eating out, a lot more rewarding and the best part of all: there are leftovers. And leftovers my friends, come in particularly handy when you’re nursing a hangover and really have no desire to cook with anyone--even yourself.

Lady Mendl’s
56 Irving Place
New York, NY
212-533-4600

Real Margaritas
From Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa Parties!
Serves 6

1 lime, halved
Kosher salt
½ cup freshly squeezed lime juice (5 limes)
2 Tbs freshly squeezed lemon juice (1 lemon)
1 cup Triple Sec
3 cups ice
1 cup white tequila

If you like margaritas served in a glass with salt, rub the outside rims of six glasses with a cut lime and dip each glass lightly onto a plate of kosher salt.

Combine the lime juice, lemon juice, Triple Sec, and ice in a blender and puree until completely blended. Add the tequila and puree for 2 seconds more. Serve over ice.

If you prefer frozen margaritas, halve each of the ingredients, double the ice, and blend in two batches. Serve with a cut lime.

Gazpacho
From Ina Garten’s The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
Serves 8 to 10

2 hothouse cucumbers, halved and seeded, but not peeled
3 red bell peppers, cored and seeded
8 plum tomatoes
2 red onions
6 garlic cloves, minced
46 ounces tomato juice (6 cups)
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1/2 cup good olive oil
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper

Roughly chop the cucumbers, bell peppers, tomatoes, and red onions into 1-inch cubes. Put each vegetable separately into a food processor fitted with a steel blade and pulse until it is coarsely chopped. Do not overprocess!

After each vegetable is processed, combine them in a large bowl and add the garlic, tomato juice, vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Mix well and chill before serving. The longer gazpacho sits, the more the flavors develop.

Crab Cakes
From Amanda’s Aunt Karen

1 lb jumbo lump crabmeat
1 cup breadcrumbs
¼ cup mayo
1 large egg, beaten
1 Tsp worcestershire sauce
1 Tsp dry mustard
Pepper

Mix together the crabmeat, breadcrumbs, Worcestershire sauce, dry mustard and pepper.

Add the mayonnaise and egg to the crabmeat mixture. Combine with your hands and add more mayonnaise if the mixture seems too dry.

Form into 4 large or 6 small crabcakes (TLP note: We decided to make 12 medium sized ones) and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Cook in clarified butter for about 4-5 minutes on each side. (Note from Amanda’s Mom who passed the recipe on to Amanda): I am not great at clarified butter, so I cooked them in a mixture of butter and oil, using 1 Tbs of each.

Suggested wine from Amanda’s Mom: Light Pinot Noir or Alsatian Riesling (TLP note: We drank a Pinot Gris that Daniel and I brought back from our trip to the Pacific Northwest).

Remoulade
From Ina Garten’s The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
Makes 3/4 cup

Note from Ina: This sauce is more traditional with celeriac as a salad, but I love to use it with crab cakes. It is like tartar sauce, but with much more flavor. Serve cold or at room temperature.

1/2 cup good mayonnaise
2 Tbs small-diced pickles or cornichons (TLP note: We used cornichons)
1 Tsp coarse-grained mustard
1 Tbs champagne or white wine vinegar (TLP note: We used champagne)
Pinch kosher salt
Pinch freshly ground black pepper

Place all the ingredients in a food processor fitted with a steel blade and pulse several times until the pickles are finely chopped and all the ingredients are well mixed but not pureed.

A food-filled trip to the Pacific Northwest

In the beginning of July, Daniel finished his MBA at NYU. To celebrate, we spent the past week in Seattle and various parts of Oregon (Portland, Eugene, Steamboat, Crater Lake and Yachats to be exact) -- visiting college friends, being outdoorsy, and of course discovering as much good food as possible. We were even blessed with unbelievable weather, a refreshing relief from the stickiness we'd fled from. The thought of moving out west did come up a few times, but the confirmation from many locals that the sun only shines about three months out of the year will most likely keep us put.

It'll take forever for me to recount the entire trip, so I'll highlight some of our most memorable food-related moments. If you haven't been to any of these areas before, you should seriously consider planning a trip sometime soon! We can't wait to go back.

SEATTLE

Matt's in the Market



Daniel and I shared our first lunch with Shannon and Justin at Matt's in the Market, a wonderful little spot perched directly across from Pike's Place Market. Though we arrived about 15 minutes late for our reservation, a table was still waiting for us, not to mention what was undoubtedly the best in whole teeny house. Eager for a hearty introduction to Matt's seasonal cuisine, Shannon and I decided to split a BBQ pulled pork sandwich with slaw, Carolina sauce and mayonnaise and this mustard-coated halibut with a summery bean salad, my personal favorite. From our cozy window table topped with a bouquet of sunflowers, we had an unforgettable view of the bustling market, bright blue Puget Sound and if memory serves me correctly, even some snow-capped mountains. Our trip couldn't have been off to a better start.

Union
After a visit to the Experience Music Project, the Space Needle and a quick ride on a log flume, Shannon, Justin, Daniel and I headed back downtown to Union, a restaurant I'd read about on Orangette. When we arrived for our 8pm reservation, the restaurant was surprisingly empty which allowed our server to translate the mysterious menu for us. Curious about many of the exotic dishes listed, Daniel and I split a an heirloom tomato salad with arugula and goat's milk cheese with a sweet balsamic musk, grilled branzino with fava beans and mizuna (a delicate salad green from Japan), seared ahi sprinkled with sea salt on top of a refreshing bed of asparagus and fennel, and the star of the evening, boar cheeks with ricotta gnocchi. The cheeks were tender and pungent, their heavy flavor softened by the lightly browned gnocchi which delivered a sweet, delicate finish. To cap off our meal, we shared three desserts, a strawberry sherbet with cocoa nibs, a bay leaf creme brulee (that tasted much more like rosemary), and a chocolate terrine with malt ice cream. All three were delicious, but it was the sherbet, studded with those little crunches of chocolate, that won me over.

PORTLAND

Colosso
Beautiful weather and a late afternoon canoe trip got us off to a late start on our drive from Seattle to Portland, so plans to eat at Tabla, a restaurant I'd read about in Bon Appetit , were sadly cancelled. I called the inn where we'd be staying that night to find out if any restaurants would be open by the time we arrived. Our innekeeper first suggested Applebee's, and then he remembered Colosso, a tapas place that stayed open till about 2am. Considering his first suggestion, I wasn't expecting much. When we arrived at the sexy, dark spot where Portland couples and large groups were lingering over glasses of sangria and small plates, I became a bit more hopeful. While lamb skewers with lemon mint yogurt sauce, an heirloom beet salad with walnut crusted goat cheese and arugula, and shrimp sauteed in oil, garlic and chili flakes proved to be some of the best tapas I've ever eaten (in both the US and Spain), it was the pan con tomate, the Spanish take on bruschetta that had Daniel and I professing our love for Colosso well into the next day. Served on the most delicious slabs of soft bakery fresh bread (which didn't cut up my gums the way crunchy bruschetta sometimes does) then topped off with thin slivers of roasted tomatoes and a hefty sprinkling of garlic, we ended our meal with an extra order of them before calling it a night.

Le Bistro Montage



Unfortunately, I wasn't courageous enough to try an oyster shooter with Daniel and our friends Ben and Karin at this popular Portland spot famous for its supersized southern specialities and highstrung service. Since so many patrons must have a hard time polishing off the restaurant's overflowing bowls of gumbo, jambalaya and other comfort food favorites, Le Bistro wraps up leftovers in wacky aluminum foil sculptures -- Karin's son Benny had his remaining mac and cheese turned into a sword.

Ruby Jewel Treats



I'd read about these homemade ice cream sandwiches in Edible Portland during the Dave Does shoot in June, but wasn't able to pick any up during that particular visit. After a wonderful day hiking and visiting Portland's exquisite Japanese garden, Daniel suggested we stop for ice cream. I immediately thought of the Ruby Jewel Treats, so we headed over to New Seasons, Portland's equivalent to Whole Foods and picked up two each of the honey lavender with lemon cookie and the fresh mint with dark chocolate cookie. Made with all-natural, all-northwest ingredients including locally grown mint, honey, lavender and local hormone-free milk, they were rich, refreshing and not overly sweet. As the Ruby Jewel Treats creator explains on her website: "I figure when it's time to indulge, why not go for the best?" I couldn't agree more, and her ice cream sandwiches are without a doubt the best I've ever tasted. Now if she'd only start selling them on the east coast!

STEAMBOAT, OR

Fisherman's Dinners at the Steamboat Inn



Situated along Oregon's emerald-hued Umqua River, Steamboat Inn was a charming spot where Daniel and I attended two fisherman's dinners (though sadly, no fish was served on either evening). Open to guests only, each dinner started promptly at 7pm with hors d'oeuvres and glasses of Willamette Valley wine in the inn's library. After some mingling, everyone was led into the casual dining room and seated at long wooden tables before being served a delicious multi-course, family-style meal. We originally planned on just partaking in one of the dinners, but after our stuffing ourselves with refreshing gazpacho, homemade chili parmesan bread, flavorful beef tenderloin with roasted cauliflower, beet and potatoes, and a chocolate cookie with coffee ice cream and fudge-caramel sauce at our first one, we immediately reserved spots for the following night as well. On that evening, we were served homemade rye bread, potato and carrot soup with a touch of cream, duck breast with wild rice, purple cabbage and green beans, and a tangy blackberry sorbet, chocolate mousse and creme fraiche terrine with sesame butter cookies. On both evenings, we swapped stories with fellow travelers while filling up on seconds, and sometimes even thirds of the home cooked food before walking the few steps back to our cozy riverside room.

Prospect, OR

Beckie's Cafe



During our first fisherman's dinner at Steamboat, a couple told us that we had to visit Beckie's Pie on our way home from Crater Lake. I, always up for a midday dessert, held onto that bit of information, but it was my wonderful husband who led our trusty rental car to Beckie's at the end of the day while I snoozed away in the passenger's seat. Though fairly full from a late lunch, we still managed to throw back a slice each: very berry for him, and huckleberry for me, both served with a hearty scoop of vanilla ice cream. Neither blew me away (the crust was fairly bland and I suspected that the filling was not homemade), but I did love how the promise of pie attracted everyone from the gun-carrying fly fisherman Daniel had asked for directions just five minutes earlier to the German tourists we'd seen at Crater Lake earlier that day.

YACHATS, OR

Breakfasts at the Seaquest Inn



Daniel and I both developed a little crush on Yachats (population 685), where we spent the last two days of our trip. Located smack in the middle of Oregon's rugged coast, it was a lush and stunning part of the state, with only one disadvantage: an ocean that's too cold to swim in. And though we weren't quite sure how to pronounce its name, we soon learned that the pronunciation sounded very similar to "YA HOTS!", a bit of information that made this small coastal town that much more loveable. The B&B that we stayed in also deepened our love for Yachats, thanks to its unbelievable views, our quirky innkeeper, and more importantly her skills in the kitchen. On both mornings, breakfast started promptly at 9am (and I mean promptly -- Daniel almost had his hand cut off when he tried to fill up a cup with granola before the appointed hour). The moment we arrived in the inn's Great Room which offered stunning views of the ocean, Fran would start rambling off details about the the lavish spread that awaited us: homemade granola served with yogurt, brown sugar, and honey; freshly baked cakes studded with fresh fruit and dusted with confectioner's sugar; eggy popovers stuffed with baked oranges, bananas and an edible flower; eggs served in ramekins alongside homemade sage sausage patties; an impressive amount of loose teas and of course, coffee and fresh orange juice. The best part is that Fran always left something sweet for us to nibble on at night, and during one long game of Scrabble, I devoured more slices of almond tart than I care to admit.

Dinners at The Drift Inn



Back when Daniel and I were planning our trip, I spent an afternoon exploring Chowhound to find out where we'd be able to find some good grub in Yachats. All posts pointed in the direction of The Drift Inn, a historic pub and cafe that a man we met during a Fisherman's Dinner at Steamboat confirmed was his town's best bet. I'm not much of a pub person myself, but The Drift Inn challenged to change that. With its comfy wooden booths, friendly service, live music, and incredibly fresh and delicious seafood, this was pub pefection. On our first night, we shared an order of steamer clams swimming in a garlicky white wine broth with chunks of tomato and basil, local salmon smothered with a huckleberry and hazelnut sauce, and a seafood stew full of salmon, halibut, steamers and shrimp in a spicy coconut broth. The stew was definitely my favorite, its flavors very similar to moqueca, a delicious Brazilian dish. I loved it so much that I ordered it again on our second visit to The Drift Inn, but this time, I turned down Daniel's suggestion to share two entrees and kept most of it all to myself.

Matt's in the Market
94 Pike Street, Suite 32
Seattle, WA
206-467-7909

Union
1400 First Avenue
Seattle, WA
206-838-8000

Colosso
1932 NE Broadway
Portland, OR
503-288-3333

Le Bistro Montage
301 SE Morrison Street
Portland, OR
503-234-1324

Ruby Jewel Treats
Purchased at New Seasons
Multiple locations

Steamboat Inn
42705 North Umpqua Highway
Steamboat, OR
800-840-8825

Beckie's Cafe
56484 Highway 62
Prospect, OR

Seaquest Inn
95354 Highway 101 S.
Yachats, OR
541-547-3782

The Drift Inn
124 Highway 101 N.
Yachats, OR
541-547-4477

Brooklyn Restaurants

I really love Brooklyn. I can, and often do, talk forever about all the things that make my beloved borough so special. And of course, at the top of that list are the restaurants which I've frequented ever since I moved here five years ago. I'm planning to write individual posts about each of these in the future, so stay tuned..

DUMBO
Bubby’s
Five Front
Grimaldi's
Jacques Torres Chocolate
River Cafe
Superfine

Ditmas Park
The Farm on Adderley

Cobble Hill/Boerum Hill/Carroll Gardens
Saul
Apt. 138
Bar Tabac
Bacchus
Bocca Lupo
Cafe Luluc
Chance
Chestnut
Crave
Cube 63
Frankie’s 157
Garden Siam
Gowanus Yacht Club
Hanco's
Joya
Lucali
Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwiches
Panino'teca 275
Po Brooklyn
Quercy
Robin des Bois
Royal's Downtown
Savoia
Schnack
Stan’s
Sur
Sweet Melissa
Taku
The Grocery
Zaytoons

Midwood
Di Fara

Park Slope
12th Street Grill
Al Di La
Applewood
Blue Ribbon Seafood
Brooklyn Fish Camp
Mexicano Café
Moim
Na Na
Song
Stone Park
Cocoa Bar
The Chocolate Room

Prospect Heights
Beast
Franny's
Noo Na

Clinton Hill/Fort Greene
Cafe Habana (only open during the summer)
Cake Man Raven
Ici
Locanda Vini y Oli
Thomas Beisl

Red Hook
360
Alma
Baked
Hope and Anchor

Williamsburg
A'Shay
Aurora

"I'm sorry that Brazil was eliminated by France from the World Cup (again)" Mint Ice Cream Sandwiches

Saturday was a somber day in my apartment. Brazil lost to France in the quarter-finals of the World Cup, just like that day eight years when they were beaten by them in the final. And Daniel, my soccer-obsessed Brazilian husband was broken-hearted.

I never expected France to win, but wouldn't have been surprised if I'd felt a twinge of happiness when they did. Instead, I threw my hands up in frustration whenever they had the ball and my hopeful heart raced the few times Brazil had an opportunity to score. I no longer felt a loyalty to France. Brazil was my team now.

When I was living in Paris in 1998, I didn't know much about soccer. But when the World Cup began, I was immediately swept up by the intense excitement of it all. I loved how Paris's normally pristine streets were flooded with exuberant soccer fanatics from all across the world. I counted down the hours until I could meet my roommates at the The Frog and the Princess to cheer on Zidane, Barthez, and my personal favorite, Emmanuelle Petit. But I, nor many Parisians it seemed, ever anticipated that France would take it all the way, and it was that absence of expectation that made their win so spectacular.



I wrote letters to my friends back home asking if they were following the tournament and many of them seemed uninterested and unaware. I wanted them to understand exactly what I was witnessing, but for those who have experienced it first-hand, words do it no justice. You need to be in a country that worships soccer (which is pretty much any aside from ours), and if possible, you should be living in the country who ends up winning it. I couldn't have planned it better if I'd tried.

When I got back to Lafayette a few months later for my senior year, I moved into a house down the street from Daniel. On moving in day he, who I knew of my name, but didn't recall ever formally meeting, came over to invite me to a BBQ. Aware that he was Brazilian, I decided to tell him that I had been in France when they had beaten Brazil. He referred to that same moment, which I remembered with such joy, as his "day of doom".

And now, France has gone and done it again. Eight years ago, the win was all I could have hoped for, allowing me to march up the Champs Elysees chanting "On a gagne! On a gagne!", even though I was just an American exchange student who'd only recently discovered what this World Cup business was all about. But on Saturday, as strongly as I felt France's win eight years ago, I felt Brazil's loss.

And what do I do when I'm upset about something? Well, I eat of course, and usually something sweet. And when Daniel's down in the dumps, I feed him.

I was eager to try out our standing mixer's ice cream attachment, so when the game was over, I consulted my recipes. I settled on Emeril Lagasse's Chocolate Mint Ice Cream Sandwiches, but because I'm a stickler for homemade sweets, I decided to make chocolate sandwiches using a recipe from Everyday Food instead of buying store-bought cookies. I was starting to feel better already.

While making the ice cream, I struggled with keeping my cream and egg mixture at a gentle boil as Emeril instructed (mine preferred to sputter and roll at quite a rapid rate), and also was too impatient to let it cool completely before adding it to the mixer. Once it was churning away, I set to work on the sandwiches and prepared for what the recipe referred to as very pliable dough. It was in fact, completely impossible to handle. I couldn't keep it from sticking all over my hands and then couldn't stop myself from licking it all off. I cursed my boiling apartment for being so uncooperative, and then directed my frustration toward the Everyday Food recipe that warned me of the possible stickiness, but no advice on how to remedy it. It wasn't until I was transcribing the recipe here that I realized I had included 1 1/2 sticks of butter, a bit more than the 1 1/3 which were actually needed.

Not to digress too much, but this tends to be a problem whenever I bake. While I love to do it, I’m sometimes so eager to get whatever I’m making in the oven, that I skip steps or botch them completely. Take the day before this past Easter, for example, when I tripled the amount of salt in a batch of blondies that I literally could not wait to devour. Raised Catholic, though no longer religious, I’ve been giving up my all-time favorite food group—dessert—since I was about 8; these blondies were to be my first sweet treat on the 20th anniversary of this torturous, self-inflicted ritual.

About a minute after they were out of the oven, I eagerly, or rather, aggressively, bit into a chocolate-studded buttery square longing for the sugary goodness that I had missed so dearly, only to be met by salt, salt and more salt. Perturbed and confused by this overwhelming flavor, I immediately devoured three more thinking that my taste buds just needed to get reacquainted with a taste they’d been denied for so long. But again, all I tasted was salt. I pulled out the recipe and realized my incredibly disappointing but now comical mistake. But after a 40-day fast from sweets, this was no laughing matter. Hopefully, This Little Piglet will help me avoid any more disasters such as this.

Small baking mishaps aside, I’m happy to report that the sandwiches baked up to a nice shade of brunette. The ice cream, cloudlike and flecked with tiny pieces of ice, was a pale sage, much prettier than the fluorescent green flavors I’ve eaten most of my life. The process had been long and frustrating, so I slapped a scoop of ice cream between two slices of sandwich (forgoing the recommended 5 to 10 minutes in the freezer to set), grabbed some spoons and knives, and together, Daniel and I dug in.

We were already breaking ice cream sandwich rules by not going the hand-held route, so I first sampled the ice cream by itself, letting my spoon linger with each bite as the cold, rich flavor, with just the slightest hint of mint, coated the roof of my mouth before slowly dissolving. Next I cut into a corner of the sandwich, pleased with its buttery yet slightly dry crumb which I knew would not fall apart and become soggy when paired with the ice cream. Together, they were a pretty perfect package in my opinion. Who needed a true sandwich anyway?

As for Daniel, he didn’t fall for this particular dessert quite as quickly as I did, or actually at all. While eating, he complained about the ice cream’s strong sugary flavor and lack of mint, and he also mentioned more than once that the chocolate sandwiches were too dry. He didn’t linger over his serving slowly the way I did, or ponder a second helping while only halfway through his first. While I was already typing out this particular post in my head and thinking about all the other frozen treats I’d be whipping up this summer, he was still in the middle of his second “day of doom” and even a big bowl of ice cream topped with cocoa-laced squares wasn’t going to snap him out of it.

The next night, we went to see Superman, one of those movies that require me to practice my compromising skills. But what normally would have felt like a never-ending 157 minutes flew by, my mind racing with thoughts about my blog, other topics I wanted to write about, recipes and restaurants I could report on. When I looked over at Daniel, he had his signature huge, goofy grin plastered across his face. As I watched him watch his childhood superhero save the world again, I knew that his day of doom was coming to an end.

On our walk home, my mind still stuck on food blogging, I asked what flavor we should make next in our ice cream maker. I’d recently found a recipe that would put some pink peppercorns languishing in our kitchen cabinet since Christmas to use. He, still giddy from the movie, flashed me that big smile once again before confirming that his day of doom was officially over. Mango, one of his all-time favorite fruits, would be put to the test next. But until then, we had a hint of mint ice cream and extra buttery chocolate sandwiches to hold us over.



Grasshopper Ice Cream Sandwiches
Adapted from Everyday Food
2/3 cup (1 1/3 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature, plus more for baking sheet
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for baking sheet
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 quart mint chocolate-chip ice cream, softened (Note: I made Emeril Lagasses's
Chocolate Mint Ice Cream and left out the chocolate chips)

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a 10-by-15 inch rimmed baking sheet; dust with flour, tapping out excess. Set aside. In a bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt.

2. Cream butter and sugar until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla; beat until light and fluffy. With mixer on low, gradually beat in flour mixture. Pat dough into a rectangle. Wrap in plastic, refrigerate 30 minutes.

3. Roll out dough between wax paper into a 10-by-15 inch rectangle. Remove top paper; use the bottom to flip dough onto a prepared sheet. Score into 20 squares with a paring knife. Pierce holes over squares.

4. Bake until just firm, 8 to 10 minutes, rotating sheet halfway through. Cut into squares; let cool completely.

5. Sandwich ice cream between two cookies. Wrap in plastic; freeze to set 5 to 10 minutes. Serve plain, or place on plates, and drizzle with hot fudge.

Yield: 10 sandwiches