Monica Saigal Bhide's Blog, page 23

The Ghosts of Cakes Past

I don’t bake. Let me clarify that: I cannot bake. I did not grow up in a house where anyone baked. I grew up around spiced curries, smoked kebabs and fried milk but never around the smell of a freshly baked cake.

So, usually when I am upset, I try to cook. When I have a decision to make, I go in the kitchen and lose myself in my spices, in the sizzle of the hot oil, in the smell of the sautéing ginger, in the rumble of the boiling rice. And yet today, as I am faced with a very difficult decision, I decide to bake. A cake no less.

I am not sure what I am doing here surrounding by flour, eggs, butter, brown sugar, vanilla. I stare at them and all the ghosts of cakes past stare back. They are laughing at me. The over cooked and burned cake I made a year ago, the soufflé that never rose, the three-tier cake that ended up in the trash, the cookies that could change the game of hockey forever: edible pucks, anyone? A chill runs down my spine as I recall all the bad decisions I have made in the past. What if this time is no different?

I am torn about what to cook.

I stare at the familiar yellow turmeric. The powder in the small transparent bottle looks like warm sunshine on sunny day. The cumin calls my name. The cinnamon beckons to be added to the lamb in my fridge.

I close the spice cabinet.

I am going to bake a cake. God help us all.

I begin by reading the instructions and I can almost hear cookbook author Nancie McDermott talking to me. I met her at a conference this year. Her vibrant spirit and her contagious laughter attracted me to her. I am cooking from her book. Perhaps I am trying to channel her and have her here with me. She looks like the kind of person who could make hard decisions easily.

Not me.

I begin by opening the bag of flour. It spills all over the counter and the floor.  The fine white powder covers the newly cleaned hardwood floor. I want to clean it up. Instead I simply stand there. It is how I feel. My spirit is covered in dust and I cannot seem to shake it off.

I bend down and clean the flour. But it seems I have just made a bigger mess. Funny how it seems like my life now. I plug one hole to have another one open up. Noah, your ark has nothing on me.

I begin to read the instructions again and it asks to boil some milk and butter. I can do that. I think. The weight of my decision is hurting me so much that I cannot function. I hear the kids in the living room playing a game of carom. It is a fun game, if you haven’t tried it. It is like playing pool except it is on a flat board and there are little “coins” instead of balls and a larger coin called a striker to strike them with (instead of a cue).

The kids, they hear me rattling around the kitchen, and come to see what all the fuss is about. The older one offers to break the eggs in a container so I can proceed with this monumental dish.  He looks at the recipe photo, it is stunning, “Wow, mom. This looks amazing. Look at all the caramel on this cake!”

Oh, right, have I mentioned that I have never made caramel icing before?

He breaks the eggs as I stand and watch him. I haven’t created too many amazing things in my life but he is one of the best ones yet.  He smiles at me. “You look tired,” he says and then begins to help me clean the floor.

I stand back and watch him. He is cleaning while his four-year-old brother is standing there, quietly, throwing more flour on the floor. They make me laugh, these little miracles.

They run back to their game and I begin to continue my cake or what I hope will be a cake.

As the milk and the butter meld together on the stove, I begin to look for the cake pans. I know I have them somewhere. I begin to look in earnest for the pans. I spot an old plate a friend had given me, a old jar that hosted a shrimp pickle I once made and a broken spatula that holds heavy memories.

How did I get myself into this mess? Why do I have to make this decision? Why cant decisions make themselves? Better yet, why cant things go back to the way they were, when we were all strangers to each other, when there was no familiarity, when there was no relationship, when there was nothing that could hurt.

My husband of eighteen years wanders into the kitchen. I want to go and hug him. He knows I am struggling with this decision. He comes over and hugs me and as gently and kindly as possible whispers, “Don’t worry. Don’t try so hard. Let it be.” I know he is right. But I don’t feel it yet. I am not ready to let it be.

He leaves to watch a football game. I return to my hunt for the cake pans.

Much to my dismay, I find the pans.

This means I will have to go on.

I sift, I measure, I pretend to know what I am doing.

I have been doing that all last year. Pretending.

I cannot pretend anymore, I am no good at it.  I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, and only the right choice will help me.

What is the right choice? How does one know when a decision will heal and when it will hurt more?

I don’t know. I seem to be saying and writing that a lot lately: I don’t know.

My four-year-old complains about that. He asks how planes fly, why the wind only blows on our face when the windows are down in the car, how plants eat, how the little people get inside the TV, why the sky is blue, why the grass is green, why butter is so delicious, why rice can be red. I say I don’t know. Then I hug him. I am tired. The choices I have to make have made me tired. But he makes me laugh as he makes up answers to his own questions.

He comes in and stares at the baking cake in the oven, through the little glass window on the door. We smile at each other. A sweet, warm smell has filled my tiny kitchen. A reassurance that there is peace to be found in the small things in life.

He runs off to find his brother.

I begin to make the caramel icing. I read the instructions again. I can do this. The brown sugar, the butter, the milk begin to fall in love with each other in my pan and meld together to become a gorgeous brown crème.

The cake has cooled on the rack and does not look like a volcano exploded.  In fact, it looks like a fairly decent pound cake. Nancie would be proud. Perhaps, it is too early to say that. No one has tasted it yet.

I need a spatula to spread the icing. I cannot find it and as I peek in the pan on the stove, I notice the icing hardening.

I sit down and stare at the kitchen. It is a mess. I am a fairly clean cook and yet today I have made it look like my husband was cooking, unsupervised.

I make myself some coffee and sip it as I taste the cake, hardened icing on the side.

Did I really do it? Did I just bake a two-tier cake with almost icing on it?

My eyes are moist. I have wandered through unknown territory and come out the other end. Mostly unscathed.

I still don’t know what I am going to do. But then, perhaps, there is the point. I don’t have to know.  It is like my younger son and his questions. My husband and I never seem to have adequate answers and yet he trusts us. He makes up his own sometimes. But more importantly, he trusts that we will guide him to the right answers when the time is right.

I have to trust that things will work out as they are meant to be.

Perhaps some people are only meant to be in our lives at a certain time and not at another. It does not mean that friendships are lost or lives have to be ruined. It is just time to move on.

Trusting in the process is hard; believing that the right answer will come out the other end is harder.

And yet, here I am with a gorgeous caramel cake, a family that is praising my non-existent baking skills, and a feeling that everything is going to be just fine.

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Smithsonian Event: Flavors of India

 

Click to view slideshow.

I recently did an event for the Smithsonian Associates focused on the history and contemporary influences on the cuisines of India. Here is a peek! We sold out and had over 200 people in attendance!

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“Zombie Servants of the Noodle God”

Pad Thai

From “A Spoonful of Promises” by T. Susan Chang (Lyons Press, 2011)

Serves 2 to 4

Pad thai is easier than you might think, provided you can get your hands on fish sauce and rice noodles (fine to use any medium ones if you can’t get wide ones), both easily available at Asian groceries.  The same stores usually have dried shrimp, but they vary widely as to where they put it and, well, asking doesn’t usually help.  What you’re looking for is a little flat cellophane package; in the window you can see the dried shrimp, which are salmon-pink, curled up, and no bigger than the nail on your pinky finger.

The egg instruction–”beaten, fried, and finely sliced”–sounds bizarre, but it’s really simple.  You beat the eggs as if you were making scrambled eggs, but then you don’t scramble them.  You pour one thin layer into a hot oiled pan, like a crêpe (flip it over once).  Depending on your pan you might get one, or two egg crêpes per egg.  Then you roll the crêpe(s) up lengthwise and chop it into fine, noodle-like slivers.  Perfection isn’t necessary, and eggs made this way have a pleasant texture when you encounter them in a noodle dish. That said, I am sure there are plenty of Thai cooks who just crack the egg right into the pan and have done with it.

You can use sliced green chilies instead of chili paste for heat-delivery, if you prefer.

1 tablespoon dried shrimp (optional)

1/2 pound fresh shrimp, chicken or pork

2 tablespoons corn or peanut oil

1 clove garlic, crushed

2 medium shallots, sliced in thin rings

1/4 pound firm tofu, sliced into 1/4-inch strips

10 to 12 ounces 1/4-inch-wide dry rice noodles (banh pho, sen jaan, or rice sticks)

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 tablespoon Asian chili paste, or to taste

3 tablespoons sugar, or to taste

2 tablespoons fish sauce

Juice of 1 lime

1/3 cup chopped dry-roasted unsalted peanuts

1 cup bean sprouts

1 egg, beaten, fried, and finely sliced

1/2 cup chopped scallions

1/2 cup chopped cilantro

1/2 cup shredded fresh mint

1 extra lime, cut into wedges (for serving)

Soak the dried shrimp, if using, in cold water for 20 minutes. Drain them and chop them finely. If using fresh shrimp, shell and devein them; or cut the chicken or pork along the grain into small strips. Soak the rice noodles in warm water for at least 15 minutes.

In a wok, cast-iron skillet, or large nonstick skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. When it is hot (but not smoking) add the garlic, shallots, and dried shrimp all at once. Lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring constantly, until the garlic is just golden-brown and shallots are beginning to caramelize.

Push garlic mixture to one side of the pan. Raise the heat to high and add the tofu. Cook it until it is lightly browned. Push the tofu to one side of the pan. Add the fresh shrimp, chicken, or pork. Stir-fry, mixing everything in the pan together, until the meat is just barely opaque.

Drain the noodles.  Push everything in the pan to one side (if the pan seems dry, add another teaspoon of oil). Add the noodles and stir-fry, gradually working in the other ingredients in the pan.

Clear a small space in the center of the noodles and add the tomato and chili pastes. Gradually incorporate them into noodles until evenly distributed; the noodles should be tinted red.  Reduce the heat to medium-low. Clear a small space in the pan and add the sugar. Toss the noodles briefly.

Add the fish sauce and lime juice. Stir-fry, mixing thoroughly and scraping the pan with a spatula. You may need to cut through noodles with the spatula. Taste the mixture. It should be evenly balanced with salt, sweet, and sour tastes. Fish sauce helps cut through a heavy lime taste. But if you have added plenty of lime and fish sauce and the flavors still don’t come alive, try adding more sugar, 1 teaspoon at a time.

Add the peanuts and bean sprouts, toss briefly, and remove from heat.  Scatter the egg and scallions over the noodles. Garnish with wedges of lime, cilantro, and mint. Serve at once.

Photo by Sala Kannan

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Can you learn to cook from a cookbook?

 

 

During the fall of 2009, esteemed, New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik wrote a piece about cookbooks. The heart of the piece focused on Gopnik’s belief that one cannot ever really learn to cook from a cookbook because, in his words, “You’ll never do it well enough.”   All my food writer friends cried in dissent. It created uproar in our food-writing world.

As it happens, I was invited by NPR’s Talk of the Nation to come on air and discuss Gopnik’s piece with him. While we were on the show, Gopnik’s major point was that you can only really learn from watching and that cookbooks are a disappointment because even when you follow a recipe, the final product may look nothing like the picture. His point was that you could only really learn from being with someone in the kitchen. 

Well, watching someone riding a bike wont teach you how to ride. Getting on a bike will.  And there in lies the point: to cook, whether by watching or by reading, will only happen when you perform the actual act – hold knife, cut vegetables, heat stove, etc. There are many types of cookbooks out there that help a reader try to accomplish this mission. The basic books, like Mark Bittman’s are where the intent is to teach the user fundamentals:  how to boil an egg, what to do with asparagus, what exactly rhubarb tastes like. And from there we go up to books on techniques that focus on the art of doing one thing be it steaming or frying or baking. There are books that are full of essays and stories along with recipes. These document life more than just the food, many times.

Of course, I shared this all on air.

We ran out of time on the show and there were so many things I wanted to share. Years ago, I had helped an online food community start a free cooking school. We had several online classes – basically text with pictures, showing people how to make dishes. But do you know which class was one of the most successful? Teaching people  how to use a knife – in text and pictures. Think about it. 

And then there is my favorite story about one of my writing students and the value of cookbooks in our lives. They are so much more than just recipe repositories.

This student sent me an essay about struggling to make an “old family cookie recipe” for a cookie party because, it turns out, they had no family recipe for cookies. When I began to read the essay, my gut reaction was that perhaps the family did not cook explaining the lack of family recipes.

On the contrary, turns out Andrew R.’s family loved to cook.  Except that they did not cook from their own recipes: they loved to cook together in the kitchen from cookbooks that his mother owned and adored.  Andrew spent time in the kitchen with this parents and his brother, not cooking but loving his mother’s culinary creations.  “My mother would cook from so many different books that I had developed a strong love of many different cuisines by the time I left home to be on my own,” he wrote. His family’s love of cookbooks goes beyond just cooking from them. They discuss the books and authors so much that a friend thought they were related to Rick Bayless!

He never cooked with his mother but began cooking in his college years. And yes, he learnt to do it all from cookbooks. They taught him how to cook, how to learn new techniques and how to think like a cook. When a certain recipe would show him how to make garlic, he would use that technique the next time he used garlic, for instance.

 “Mom (a physics major in college) always told me and my brothers, “if you can do a chemistry experiment, you can cook from a recipe,” he wrote.

But in the spirit of being honest, I have to admit that I have loads of cookbooks that I love that I never cook from.

As my friend Jill says “ Cookbooks are like sex books, sometimes you just want to relax and read about it.”

 

UPDATE: This post was picked up by Serious Eats and the comments there are piling up as well. 

UPDATE:  Ruth Reichl responded to my tweet by posting an answer about it on her blog. Do read it. 

THe discussion continues here with Tim Carman at the Washington CIty Paper and with Rebekah Denn at the Christian Science Monitor. 

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Avocado soup for two

This avocado soup recipe of mine was featured in Vogue India last year. I am thrilled to share it with you.. it is a lovely, romantic taste for two!

 

 

 

 

Photo courtesy Reem Rizvi

Avocado-Coconut Shooter with Fried Garlic, Spicy Shrimp and Basil

By Monica Bhide

This unusual and refreshing cold soup has a kick to it. Leave out the green chiles if you are not one for spice—but I wouldn’t recommend it!

 

Serves 2

2 green serrano or jalapeño chiles, seeded and roughly chopped

2 tablespoons cilantro

½ to ¾ large ripe avocado, peeled and pitted

1½ tablespoons fresh lime or fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon honey

1 cup coconut milk (do not use light coconut milk)

Salt

 

For the tempering

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 garlic clove, peeled and sliced

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

6-8 medium shrimp, cleaned (no tail, no head)

1/2 teaspoon crushed red chili

Pinch of salt

 

2 large basil leaves (preferably purple basil; if not available, green is fine), julienned

Combine the chile, cilantro, avocado, lemon juice, honey and coconut milk in a blender. Process until smooth. Check the consistency: it should be thicker than heavy cream, but not as thick as yogurt. Add a little more coconut milk if it needs to be thinned out. If it is too thin, add a little more avocado. Add salt to taste.
Transfer the soup to a container and chill for an hour
When ready to serve, pour the chilled soup in two small cups.
Prepare the tempering: Heat the oil in a small skillet over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the garlic and cumin. Cook for 20 seconds or so until the garlic begins to change color. Add the shrimp, chili powder, and salt. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Divide the tempering equally between the two cups. Be sure to do it gently so the shrimp sit on top of the soup and doesn’t get fully submerged! (They may get a little submerged, but that is fine!). Alternatively, you can balance them on the rim of your cup or, if you prefer, use a nice wine glass.
Garnish with the basil and serve.

 

 

 

 

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Red Pepper and Pistachio Curried Shrimp

Chef Vikas Khanna’s Red Pepper and Pistachio Curried Shrimp Recipe

 

 

Shimla Mirch Curry Jhinga

Adapted from Flavors First by Vikas Khanna

There are never any leftovers when I serve this creamy shrimp dish. The sweetness of the red peppers blends with red onions, cumin, garlic, and green chiles. Pistachios are ideal, though you can substitute your favorite nuts. It is typical in Indian cooking to use raw nuts rather than toasted as in the West. You can, of course, use toasted nuts, but the flavor will be less authentic.

Serves 4

1 large red bell pepper, coarsely chopped

1 large red onion, coarsely chopped

1/2 cup raw shelled pistachios, plus 10 finely chopped pistachios for garnish

2 fresh green chile peppers (such as serrano)

1/2 cup water

4 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon cumin seeds

1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic

1 pound (20/24 count) headless medium shrimp, shelled and deveined

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup chopped fresh mint leaves

1. In a blender or a food processor blend the bell pepper, onion, pistachios, green chiles, and water into a smooth purée.

2. In a medium skillet, heat 3 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat. Add the cumin seeds and cook for 1 minute, stirring. Add the garlic and cook until the edges turn brown, about 1 minute. Add the shrimp and a little salt and cook until just opaque, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from pan with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel.

3. Add the remaining tablespoon oil to the same skillet, gently add the red pepper mixture and cream and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer the sauce for 5 minutes to cook the onion. Add the shrimp and simmer for another 3 to 4 minutes. Stir in the chopped mint just before serving to preserve its fresh flavor.

4. Season with salt and serve hot, topped with the remaining chopped pistachios.

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Spaghetti Moilee

A couple of year ago, I had the chance to judge a cooking show. It was my first ever stint as a judge and I was nervous! But the amazing contents on the show, The Amul Food Food Maha Challenge hosted by Chef Sanjeev Kapoor, made me feel welcome and so comfortable. All the food that I tasted.. and I think I tasted about 40 dishes for the show, were fantastic!

I wanted to showcase one of the dishes here for you all to try at home.  The KEY TO REMEMBER HERE — the contestants had to work with what they had so this dish was created with what he had on hand at the time.

This dish was created by the uber talented Chef Saransh Goila (pictured above). He not only won on the episode I judged, but went on to win the entire series and the title, “India’s First Super Chef”. He is a smart, talented and very creative young chef and I know that he will go far. He kindly shared this with me and I hope you will enjoy it. Saransh is getting ready to host his own talk show in India! So much talent!! He has his own TV show and is also doing more work with Master Chef Sanjeev Kapoor.

Photo of the dish taken for a Life of Spice by the super talented Soma Rathore at eCurry.com

Spaghetti Moily

Spaghetti tossed in mildly spiced South Indian Curry

Ginger paste and garlic paste are available at Indian and Asian grocers.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon mustard seeds

10 fresh curry leaves, plus more for garnish

2 medium onions, chopped

2 teaspoons ginger paste

2 teaspoons garlic paste

3 small green chiles, stemmed and slit lengthwise

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

Salt

1/2 medium tomato, seeded and cut into small cubes

1/2 cup heavy cream

9 ounces spaghetti

Fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish

1.            Place a large pot of water over high heat to come to a boil.

2.            Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. When the oil is shimmering, add the mustard seeds. When they splutter, add the curry leaves and sauté for a few seconds.

3.            Lower the heat, add the onions, and cook until soft and translucent, stirring occasionally.

4.            Stir in the ginger and garlic pastes, chiles, and turmeric. Raise the heat to high and cook, stirring, for about 30 seconds.

5.            Stir in the lemon juice and coconut milk. Add salt to taste. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally so the sauce does not stick.

6.            Stir in the tomato and cream, cover again, and keep warm over very low heat until the spaghetti is ready.

7.            When the water boils, add salt and the spaghetti. Cook about 9 minutes or until al dente, stirring occasionally so the spaghetti doesn’t stick together.

8.            Drain the spaghetti well. Add to the sauce and stir to coat.

9.            Divide the spaghetti and sauce onto serving plates. Garnish with cilantro and curry leaves.

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The Kitchen Spirit

Each morning, I wake up to a cup of steaming coffee prepared by my husband of twenty years. The kitchen, every day, has a different energy. Some mornings, I feel it invites me to be a part of it’s magic, enticing me to pick up a knife, to smell the fresh lemons on the counter or bite into the juicy grapes in the bowl. There are other days when it seems like the energy is quiet, as though I am invited to stay but not mess with the hearth or the heart of the kitchen. I order take-out on those days. It was years before I realized that the spirit of my kitchen, was a reflection of the energy that I brought into it each day.

A year ago, I remember entering the kitchen with a very somber heart. I did not know why but my kitchen seemed quiet. Almost as if bracing for a storm. My friend B had called that morning and said she wanted to visit. There was something in her voice but I chalked it up to her not being a morning person. She arrived, as she often did, with an armful of avocadoes and a big beaming smile. We sat at the kitchen counter as she talked non-stop of her adventures in babysitting, her good friend’s chatter about her pregnancy, her fascination with soccer and her frustration with English.

I was nearly her mother’s age and yet we had a great chemistry. She had the capacity to talk non-stop and my age advantage gave me the capacity to listen intently. We had nothing in common – she was single, I was married with kids, we had different religions, I had several degrees and she had only finished high school, she danced like a dream and I could barely walk a straight line! But we had one thing in common: food. We both loved to cook and loved to feed each other.

I got up to help her make the guacamole but with the wave of a knife she signaled for me to sit back down. I smiled. She looked like she needed to keep her hands busy.

She placed three eggs in a deep bowl and filled it with chilled water.

“Eggs are better when they are not in the fridge. Why do you keep yours there?” she mumbled and kept going.

She had come with all that she needed. She began to chop the shallots, mince the shiny green chilies and finely chop the cilantro. I loved her version of the guacamole native to her birthplace of El Salvador. She talked non-stop not giving me a chance to intervene or interject other than to just nod my head and smile. Her usually steady hands shook as she struggled with the knife. I offered to help. No, no, I must do this, she said. I took that as my cue to sit back and listen. She mixed the now mashed avocadoes, the eggs, the cilantro, chiles and shallots and added a touch of lemon juice and toasted cumin. Then placed it in front of me.

I was about to dig in when I looked up to see my friend standing silent as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I was just diagnosed with cervical cancer,” she said. She was twenty-five.

We both stared at the bowl of guacamole; one of my favorite snacks. We held hands across the small kitchen island. The kettle whistled in the back.

I got up to make some tea. It was her turn to sit down. This time, she talked slowly and more purposefully explaining that the cancer was in very early stages and that the doctor thought it was totally curable.

I poured her tea and then mine and listened.

The kitchen was a serene quiet, bearing witness to a painful memory as it hugged us in its warmth and shielded us from the world outside.

“I will fight it. You know,” she said. The unsaid is more painful than what is said as I wondered what this would mean for her and having babies of her own.

“Yes, I know. And you will win.”

As we wiped our tears, my kids came running in and devoured the perfectly prepared guacamole. “B, you make most amazing guacamole.”

She laughed and hugged them both.

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Dear Writer: What are you selling?

What are you selling?

I have been thinking about this a lot lately. For many folks, especially those in marketing and business, this post may be a no-brainer and for that I apologize. But for many of us, especially writers, I think this warrants some thinking. I am not a marketing person and not a strategist, this is just meant to be a post to get you thinking about your work in a different way:

So:

Disney doesn’t just sell theme park adventures or “things” – they sell memories

Martha Stewart doesn’t just sell magazines or “things” – she sells perfection (or the appearance of a picture perfect life)

Oprah doesn’t just sell her show or magazines – she sells spiritual thinking

Charmin doesn’t just sell toilet paper – they sell softness

Mercedes Benz doesn’t just sell cars – they sell luxury

State Farm doesn’t just sell insurance – they sell assurance

Nike doesn’t just sell shoes – they sell performance

Anthony Bourdain doesn’t just sell TV shows — he sells adventures, longings and, to me, visions of a dream job!!

Michael Rulman doesn’t just sell cookbooks – he sells his immense knowledge and teachings.

Ina Garten doesn’t just sell cookbooks – she sells comfort

Kim Kardashian- well, I can’t figure that one out. LOL

(You may think these brands are selling something different from the way I view them, and that is fine. The point here is to see what the brand is really about)

Now, before you take on a single new writing assignment or write one more word, think about what it is that you are selling. If you know what you are selling, it is easier to focus and create a strategy to move forward. If you don’t know what you are selling, you will be all over the board and come 2013, will be wondering why you did not make work progress in 2012.

Post your comments here and tell me what you think you are selling or want to sell as a writer. I will pick a winner from the list and send you a copy of my new e-book “In Conversation with Exceptional Women.”

This is an important exercise for anyone who is working on defining themselves. There are no wrong answers but these are important answers and remember – things will change as you grow. But it is good to have a starting point.. a point where you can see what you are selling and how to get work around that point so that you can grow your platform and your influence.

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Read, Cook, Love

I know I am not supposed to play favorites but I will. Of all the stories that I have done over the years, this one,Read, Cook, Love,is my favorite. I love writing for Parents (the team there ROCKS) and I love what they did with my idea and recipes. They have made it shine!!  The story is in the November 2011 issue of Parents magazine.

It is our tradition – I take books that the kids love to read and we create dishes around them! I hope you will see the slideshow above and leave comments! WOuld LOVE your thoughts.

Here is an additional recipe that is not in the show:

Winnie the Pooh Honey-Blueberry  Shake

Top this with an edible bumblebee or a unsprayed edible flowers.  You can make bees with yellow jelly beans and a tube of black icing, or purchase sugar bumblebees from www.thepartyworks.com.

Serves 2

1 cup plain yogurt (full fat, low fat, or fat-free)

1 cup blueberries, rinsed and drained

2 tablespoons honey (divided 1 + 1)

Whipped cream to top (optional)

Edibles bees or edible flowers for garnish

Kids: Put the yogurt, blueberries, and 1 tablespoon of honey in the blender.

Grown-up: Cover and blend until smooth. Pour the shake into the glasses.

Kids:  Top with whipped cream, if you like.

Kids: Drizzle the remaining honey over the shakes. Float a couple of bees or a flower on top of the honey.  Add a straw and drink!

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