the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy

soupapalooza!

the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy

mini doughnuts and cinnamon ice cream: sweet treats from the fully-outfitted kitchen of a sour sport

Back in Junior High School, or “Intermediate” as it is known in the parts where I’m from, I signed up for every imaginable sport. Now I know that those of you who know me in this phase of my life are leaning back in your chairs, patting your stomachs and cackling in disbelief (I know for sure some of you indeed cackle when you call “bullshit”), but there was a time in my youth when my butt lined the bench of every B-Team sport to play in the gym of the mighty, mighty CLIS Eagles and in gyms throughout the greater Clear Creek Independent School District.

Before I even got to Jr. High there was ballet, swim team, drill team, cheerleading (I still just ooze pep and sincerity, right? You haven’t lived until you’ve witnessed my bubble letter writing) and gymnastics. At CLIS there was volleyball, basketball and track; the fifty meter hurdles being the only event of which I showed any sort of natural aptitude. After high school I dabbled in riding horses and I literally had a five minute affair with tennis, a particularly embarrassing moment in which I joined a club, bought four or five tennis skirts, a pair of K-Swiss shoes and the panties that you can stuff your extra balls in (get your head out of the gutter), and I signed myself up for a private lesson. My dad had told me earlier in the month that all well-bred young ladies should play tennis. Which was particularly funny since I’m certainly not very well-bred, among other things. Anyway, I drove myself to my inaugural lesson all decked out in Le Coq Sportif fare, tossing my pony tail as I walked into the office of the club like an annoying, totally entitled bourgeois peacock.

“I’m here for my lesson!” I told the lady at the front desk.

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PostedJanuary 29, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesdesserts & sweet treats, vegetarian
TagsWylde Mountain Thyme, recipe, hubris, cinnamon, doughnuts, Silver Palate Cookbook, sweet tooth, fried stuff, soupapalooza!, gear, Moosewood Cookbook, sporty spice, Nike Pre, gelato, ice cream, tennis trauma
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​photo courtesy of Bossy Blonde (her pictures are much better than mine)

I have a dream: that one day this kitchen will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed--that all copper pots are created equal.

I didn’t take my camera with me for our quick little day trip into Montepulciano, a trip in which the single most notable part was the absence of car sickness on my part. I am incredibly sad about this (the lack of a camera, not the nausea) because we stumbled across something meaningful to me on a multitude of levels-- a store full of hand forged copper pots called Rinomata Rameria Mazzetti. It made the metalsmith geek in me absolutely giddy and it made the soup maker in me literally squeal. 

“Oh my Gaaaaaaaawd. It can’t be!” I said in my best American Tourist accent to Bossy as we passed a window lined with copper bowls, vessels, fondue makers, baptismal fonts, you name it. There were repousséd copper sheets made to be used as house numbers in shapes of grapes and what I’m assuming is Bacchus (this is a wine region, after all), tiny butter and milk warmers and ladles. Basically, if I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have hugged the nice Italian lady whose husband’s family have been coppersmiths for five generations, purchased 90% of her inventory and then bought a ramshackle Italian stone villa to house it all. I could momentarily imagine a whole new life created around this Tuscan kitchen... luckily for me, I don’t have the available balance (or the pot rack) to do such a thing. 

Anyway, Mom, Dad, Secret Admirer(s): if you’re reading this give the nice Italian lady a call; though she doesn’t speak much English, she’d love to meet your Visa card, and I’d love a giant rondelle to make soup for 25 when I get home (2 mm thickness of the copper, please).

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PostedAugust 15, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesgear and miscellany
Tagsumbrian adventure, august adventure, umbria, viva italia!, copper pot, gear, Tuscany, Bossy, hand forged, montepulciano, rinomata rameria mazzetti
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no pantry left behind: what Chef Kenobi says you need

​So the Bossy Blonde is officially staying in the Harbor of Sags for the rest of the season (doesn’t that sound just so darlingly patrician?) while I am basically collecting fruit flies and furiously making labels here in my loft. I’d like to make a lame comment about the apparent lack of fairness in the situation, but  since I’m going to haul myself out there to visit her fabulousness anyway, I shouldn’t really complain. And it’s not like we don’t have a million email conversations a day. In fact, she forwarded me a very enlightening email from Chef Kenobi just the other day, but more on that in a few...

In an attempt to cleanse the old palate from the last few posts, I thought I might write something that is actually useful in the kitchen, something that is not the ramblings of a girl in the midst of some boredom-induced psychotic break. So here it is. The first official posting of “No Pantry Left Behind.” 

One of my favorite parts of many of my cook books is the little section where the chef or the author of the book talks about their favorite tools or what basic pantry supplies you should have on hand. Being a novice cook, I have found these sections to be invaluable; one of the most challenging aspects of learning to cook has been making sure I have everything I need at any given time. It has been a daunting learning curve-- if you don’t have certain staples on hand you can never really learn how to improvise in the kitchen or just whip something up for yourself (or for your friends when they stop by unexpectedly). I have gleaned a tremendous amount from these pages-- about what I need to have on hand and how to plan out the most effective and least wasteful use of the perishables I buy at the farmer’s market every week. 

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PostedJune 11, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesgear and miscellany
Tagspantry, no pantry left behind, Chef Kenobi, compulsive labelmaking is a mental disorder, vinegar, staples, no recipe, gear, surfas, fantes, sur la table, salt, Bossy
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goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

  • dessert (1)
  • party planning (1)
  • libations (2)
  • stocks and broths (2)
  • vegan (5)
  • breakfast (6)
  • desserts & sweet treats (9)
  • quick pics! (9)
  • appetizers and snacks (10)
  • salad (10)
  • positively piggy (11)
  • gear and miscellany (15)
  • vegetarian (33)
  • soup (36)

Why? Because soup is cheap, delicious and easy. Kind of like me.

a weekly attempt to eat well and to savor life. or to see how much food I can get on my clothes.

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