It’s spring here already. Time to turn the soil and plant seeds. Time to harvest the over-wintered big-fat-scallions, to make room for snow peas, which in turn will be harvested to make space for zucchini, and so on. Where in the world are you, and what’s the weather like now? What glorious food, idea, or design is nature inspiring you to plant, to nurture, to grow, to harvest? Do tell!

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Today, at 440pm PST, I am scheduled for my post-op appointment to get 6 stitches taken out of the palm of my hand. That’s 3 hours and 16 minutes from now, not that I’m counting. And it’s about time. Because these stitches are DRIVING. ME. CRAZY.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

So let’s say it’s already late in the day, and you’ve forgotten that a special dessert is almost mandatory on Valentine’s Day. And maybe your pantry is rather bare, with only a few essentials in it. Do you run to the store and buy one of the last picked over boxes of bad chocolates (filled with strange, unnatural fillings), and pretend that’s what you meant to do?

You don’t have to! If you have flour, sugar, cocoa powder, milk, butter, and an egg, you can make a very good chocolate cake in 45 minutes, including baking time. Cut out a paper heart, sift some powdered sugar over the stencil that’s left, and you’re done. No crappy chocolate for anyone. Which is my mission in life. No one should ever have to eat bad chocolate.

I’m throwing a little whipped cream and sliced strawberries on this chocolate goodness, and I obviously made it in a heart-shaped pan. But you can make it in a round cake pan, and just serve it with the powdered sugar heart on top, and people will still love you back. Because that’s what Valentine’s Day is all about, isn’t it? Sharing the love. Happy Valentine’s Day to all my readers!

Quick One-Layer Chocolate Cake
adapted from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably high quality, I used ScharffenBerger)
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ cup milk
¼ cup butter, room temperature
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 egg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees, rack positioned in the middle of the oven. Grease and flour a 9 x  1 ½  inch round baking pan. (If you use a pan like I did, you’ll have leftover batter, which can be baked in a couple of ramekins for cute little soufflé-looking cakes!)

Whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl. Add milk, butter, and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer on low speed until combined. Beat on medium speed for two minutes, scraping sides of bowl. Add egg and beat for two more minutes on medium.

Pour into prepared pan. Bake at 350 for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a cake tester or toothpick inserted near the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool in pan on a rack for 10 minutes. Remove from pan. Cool. Cut out a paper heart from a piece of paper. Center the heart-shaped stencil (that the heart cut-out leaves) on the cake. Sift powdered sugar over the cake and carefully remove the stencil. Enjoy with or without whipped cream and berries.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

I’ve been unusually quiet for a long while now; there have been major health issues in my life. It seems that my body, upon turning 50, realized the warranty recently ran out, and like every major appliance I’ve ever had, picked that moment to fall apart.

Today, I visited a spine specialist, where I learned that “lifestyle modifications” is a euphemism for “all the things I can never do again.” Contrary to what my inner athlete has told me all my life, it seems that pushing through the pain isn’t such a good idea after all. At least not when the pain involves your back.

So I did what any sane person would do in this circumstance: I went out and bought a thriving, gorgeous Cara Cara orange tree. Because I can. And no matter what they tell me I can’t do, I’m pretty sure that watching that tree grow is still within my abilities. Which is what I’m trying to focus on right now.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Sometimes, when you’ve just turned fifty, and it’s Thanksgiving, and you spent the last 24 hours packing up a tiny car with baking gear (Kitchen Aid, cake pans, icing spatulas, and all), clothing, birthday presents for your son’s 11th birthday, and groceries (to make two kinds of rolls and a birthday cake with dark chocolate ganache, and homemade marshmallows), and you drove in holiday traffic (cheerful in spite of the inevitable delays), and then you unpacked all that stuff, baked until the wee hours of the night, only to wake up to find your son is too sick to be around others, and now you’ve packed everything back up by yourself, and you’ve driven the two of you back home where your spouse has been all along, you should just shut up, stop trying to figure out why, and be darned thankful for all that you have.

Which is harder than it sounds. But totally worth it.

We weren’t in a car accident.
It’s only a sore throat and cold, not cancer or something scary.
I burned off a lot of calories running around loading and unloading the car.
My spouse is rested and cheerful.
I got to see San Francisco Bay twice in 24 hours, in the sunshine, and it was stunning.
I have a home to go home to.

So here’s to giving thanks. On Thanksgiving and other days. I hope you’re having a good one, but if not, look around. You might surprise yourself with gratitude. I did.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Today I turned forty-nine, and there’s only one thing I know for sure: I’m older than I’ve ever been.  I also like to think I’m wiser than I’ve ever been, though not as wise as I hope to someday be.  Which means, all in all, this is a pretty good day.

The air is warmer than it was last week, and people seem to be slowing down, in spite of the rapid approach of the Thanksgiving holiday.  Or maybe it’s because of the impending holiday.  Who knows?  One last chance to savor the soft air before we dive headfirst into celebrations that will manage to keep us so busy until the frigid air of January stops us clean in our tracks.  On my way to the community garden, I passed an elderly gentleman stringing Christmas lights about his yard while the sun shone in the bright blue autumn sky.  I heard a grandmother singing a hauntingly beautiful melody to a baby she cradled in her arms, rocking from one leg to the other, catching the warmth in her sunny driveway on our busy street.  I eavesdropped as a concerned citizen raised issues with a local political figure attempting to walk his dog in the park, unable to shed his duties even long enough for a quiet stroll.

It’s difficult to find words to share how much this all means to me today.  To be alive.  Suffice it to say, I feel lucky to live in this beautiful, diverse land called California, and even luckier to love and be loved.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

At the end of September, I went to BlogHer Food 09.  An entire day-long conference at the St. Regis in San Francisco just for food bloggers.  I didn’t encounter a bad attitude all day.  How many conferences have you attended where you could say the same thing?  It was incredible: smiles, hugs, laughter all around.  Maybe it was the fact that it was a warm sunny day in the city.  Or maybe it’s that all these people really love what they do.  Either way, I was somewhat stunned by all that niceness in one place.  Let there be no doubt: the food blogging community is one seriously generous group of people!

I decided to sleep in (it was a Saturday!) and skip both breakfast and a welcome meeting.  I hopped on BART at a reasonable hour and then walked three blocks to the hotel.  I noticed a huddle of policemen standing right outside the St. Regis.  Oh great, I thought.  Food bloggers must really be rowdy; am I going to like this at all?  Not even 9am, and the police have already been called!

Heading into the hotel and walking quickly toward the elevators, I was told to STOP PLEASE by a firm hotel employee.  Startled, I looked up to see a small crowd moving through.  Speaking a foreign language and dressed in suits to-die-for, it was clear these were high-level dignitaries, bodyguards, and various attendants.  It happened so fast.  They moved into waiting limos, the police dispersed, and elevator doors re-opened.  The employee apologized to me for the inconvenience.  Whew.  Food bloggers weren’t causing the ruckus!

Stepping out of the elevator onto the second floor, I walked right into the only person I knew at the entire conference, the amazing Cheryl Sternman Rule, who just might be the funniest writer I know.  She introduced me to several smiling food bloggers and the day spun out of control.  We cornered David Lebovitz for a moment.  I sat next to Zoe Francois of Zoe Bakes.   I laughed with Todd and Diane of White on Rice about fighting urban critters for cherished homegrown backyard fruit.  The Gluten-Free Girl’s baby gave me the biggest smile.  Did I mention that everyone was so nice?

I attended morning sessions with White on Rice, and with Heidi Swanson and Matt Armendariz on photography.  I’ve learned so much about my little embarrassing camera and how to use it since I listened to their advice and read my camera manual.  Just a little detail I had previously overlooked.  I will say that I pulled out my (Kodak!) camera once, and the blogger I showed it to was so mortified to be standing near me (with the Kodak in my hand) that I stuck my camera back in my bag for the rest of the day.  (Therefore, no pictures for you!)  Apparently it is cool to use expensive cameras, very expensive cameras, or a Polaroid or iPhone, but not a Kodak Easy Share.  Who knew? That’s my camera and I’m sticking to it, however uncool it may be, until I can stop dropping cameras in wet bread dough.  Because at that point I really do stick to it.

Then came lunch.  You can read about our Bertolli lunch, the big stir, and the commentary during it – oh my, not what you would think – here and here.  I met so many wonderful writers and bloggers and photographers – famous ones, great ones, and brand new ones – at that lunch and during the breaks.  I watched Elizabeth Falkner convince otherwise socially acceptable people to put latex gloves on their hands and dig in chocolate boxes for corn nuts, cake, and pretzels covered in marshmallow and dark chocolate ganache.  You read that correctly: latex gloves, digging in chocolate, corn nuts.  I think you had to be there.  (But if you weren’t, check out this post.)

There was also a surreal cocktail party on the glam roof terrace (warm evening in SF!), with sumptuous cocktails, and with appetizers using Campbell’s Soup.  You cannot make this stuff up – all conferences need sponsors, okay?  Which is about when I gave out.  I hugged a few people, grabbed my swag bag full of Scharffen Berger Chocolate and other assorted goodies, tucked the business cards of my new blogging buddies in my pocket, and headed back to BART.  Yes, this is what I call work these days.  Read it and weep.

New Friends (in no particular order):

Black Girl Chef’s Whites

lettuce eat kale

In Erika’s Kitchen

brownies for dinner

Whining ‘N Dining

World on a Plate

Cook 4 Seasons

Eat Local Challenge

Gluten-Free Organics

Dana Treat

The Veggie Queen

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Ocean Beach

Pismo Beach Breakfast

Sailboat Slip in Sausalito

Jake Sailing

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Someday, maybe, if I am very lucky, I will understand why leaving NYC makes me feel as though I am being forced from the womb, or torn from my home.  After all, I’ve only been there three times, for rather short visits each time.  I grew up in Southern California, and always felt quite alien there.  But as soon as I am in a taxi or bus speeding from an airport into Manhattan, I can breathe peacefully.  My shoulders drop as my pulse quickens, and the rhythms of the City envelop me.  So when the chance came up last week to go for that third visit, I jumped, and two days later I was on the plane.

And NYC loved me back.  July weather is not normally so pleasant.  A friend said that I had brought Northern California weather with me, and so it seemed.  I didn’t break a sweat once, not even when walking briskly for 4 hours at a time!  It was so stunning out that I couldn’t bear to go inside to see a show, or even go underground on the subway.

How to explain that my feet have always known the way without a map?  Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, The Met.  Everyone in a good mood this time, lucky tourists and locals alike.  Babies/strollers/moms/nannies everywhere.  Cigarette smoke.  The quick click-clack of high heels supporting incredibly-toned calves across uneven sidewalks.  Sirens, horns, questions, answers, fingers pointing, heads nodding.  Violins and boom-boxes.  Fountains and jackhammers.  A transfusion for my soul.

I dined at Tabla, finally, while overlooking a concert in Madison Park.  I grabbed a burger at Le Parker Meridien’s burger joint and ate in it Central Park with a friend.  I went to Virgil’s for the third time – for tradition’s sake, and thought the food was actually very good, though that may have been an effect of the second margarita – strongest margarita in the world, apparently.  I ate a 25 cent banana from a fruit cart while I sat on a bench in the middle of Hello Kitty sculptures.  I walked by Magnolia Bakery without going in.  There will just have to be a next time, and soon.

When I leave Rome, I sob in the taxi and whisper endearments in Italian as the buildings fade in the distance.  The confusing passionate lover I can’t bear to leave, but I know isn’t ultimately good for me.  When I leave New York City, strangely proud to be an American, yet frustrated at the long-distance nature of our relationship, I straighten my shoulders and lift my head, determined to make it all work out.  Some things just can’t be explained.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.