Chocoholics, Take Note

I am one of those people who, when ordering dessert in a restaurant, invariably goes for the chocolate option. I am particularly partial to anything with words like "molten," "rich," or "flourless" in the title. You may therefore imagine my excitement when I came upon a recipe for Chipotle Flourless Chocolate Cake on Simply Recipes. The recipe was shared by guest-poster Garrett McCord of Vanilla Garlic. I have learned from prior experience that his dessert recipes are worth trying.

Chocoholics....RUN, don't walk, to try out this recipe. It truly is just about as easy as pulling a mix out of the box and popping it in the oven, only much much more delicious. Have a look at the recipe--there are only four main ingredients and a smattering of spice. That's it! I confess, I could not find chipotle chili powder (or the recommended substitution, ancho chili powder) so I used just 1/4 teaspoon of regular chili powder (I lessened the amount suggested in the recipe because I was worried that using the wrong chili powder might make my cake taste like tacos). It came out fine and the hint of chili flavor added just the right amount of depth.

I fought my inclination to eat the whole thing then and there and instead took the cake to a colleague's goodbye party, where it was unfortunately very well-received. All that was left by the end of the party was the little piece pictured above, which I took home to share with Ash. (Did I later regret sharing the last piece? Maybe just a little.)

Now I'm thinking, if it's this good with the wrong chili powder, what must it be like with the right one? Anybody have suggestions on where to get chipotle chili powder?

Losing Focus or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blur

Last month I participated in Nectar and Light's monthly Photo Trade. The theme was Losing Focus: Find beauty in the blur. The idea was to share photographs in which the main subject was out of focus.

I have tried intentionally blurring the main subject of my photos before, here and there. But, more often than not, I've had camera shake, subway vibrations, crowd jostle, and miscalculated shutter speed to thank for my lack of focus, though on occasion those misfortunes lead to an interesting shot.

Last month, however, I systematically set out to get the most out of my blur. It was actually very liberating not to have to worry about focus at all.


Sometimes, in blurring the intended subject of my shot, I ended up with new focus altogether.


I even experimented with the (extremely scientific) technique of swinging my camera around madly in the 8th Street subway stop to see what sort of effect the camera's movement would have this on mural of a woman in the rain.


All in all, it was a very satisfying month of experimenting with blur. And to top it all off, I received this lovely photo in the mail the other day.

June's Photo Trade theme is Into the Light: Learn to love flare. I haven't come up with anything yet, but I'm working on it.

CLICK June: Yellow for Bri

It is terrifying to me that cancer has touched the life of almost everyone I know in some way or another. Has it always been that way? Or does it seem to others as well that it becomes more and more prevalent as years pass? Fortunately people are paying attention and countless dollars are contributed each year to help scientists, hospitals, and individual patients pursue a cure. Still, cancer will at some point confront someone we know--all the more reason we should make every effort to address it however we can. It's one of the reasons I ran two marathons with Team in Training, an organization dedicated to raising funds for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

This is on my mind right now because few weeks back I received a very thrilling email asking me to be one of the judges for the June Edition of CLICK, an aptly named food photography event that is hosted every month by Jugalbandi (a blog that inspires me in two of my very favorite things: cooking and photography).

This month's CLICK is far more than just a food photography contest, however. Bee and Jai, the talented twosome behind Jugalbandi, are combining CLICK with a fundraiser in support of a close friend and fellow blogger, Bri Brownlow (author of Figs With Bri), who is currently fighting Stage IV cancer.

Bri was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 28, two and a half years ago. After a mastectomy, chemo, and two years apparently in remission the cancer is back and has metastasized to other parts of her body. Bri lost her own mother to breast cancer when she was just a girl, and now she's fighting that same battle. More about it here.

The fundraiser that Jugalbandi is hosting in conjunction with the June edition of CLICK will help Bri and her family meet her out-of-pocket medical costs for one year. The goal is $12,000.

As a way of supporting Bri, various photographers, chefs, and other talented friends have donated some incredible items that will be raffled off as part of the fundraiser (personally, I have my eye on that Gorillapod). Every donation will go towards a raffle ticket for the item of your choice, and the funds will go directly to Bri.

CLICK has a different theme every month, and this month's CLICK theme was Bri's own choice: Yellow--the color of hope, which through the work of Lance Armstrong's LiveStrong Foundation, has come to signify the fight against cancer. I know that all you photographers out there could do amazing and creative things with that theme. Below is my first attempt:


The deadline for submitting a photograph for CLICK is June 30, 2008, and you will be able to view all the entries here. The fundraiser will extend until July 15, 2008.

Please check out Jugalbandi for more information and support this campaign by participating in the fundraising raffle, submitting a photo on the theme of Yellow for CLICK, and by encouraging others to do the same.

We're rooting for you Bri.

Attempts at "Gardening"

Growing one's own herbs is a wonderful thing, not least because it resolves that age-old dilemma all cooks have faced at one time or another:

should I buy a whole big bunch of parsely at my expensive New York City grocery store
for $1.99 just for the 2 tsp my recipe requires, or should I omit it altogether?

When you're growing your own, you can just snip off the amount you want! With that principle of frugality and avoiding waste in mind, I am trying to grow some herbs at home this summer.

Unfortunately, in my eagerness to get started on the project right away, I did not employ the most successful strategy. While all aspiring herb growers in their right minds go to the farmer's market and get promising-looking little seedlings, I decided it would be a good idea to plant seeds in the dirt and watch them grow. Not for any philosophical reason, mind you, I just forgot that if I waited a few weeks, the markets would be awash with little parsely, basil, and sage plants--already looking hardy, smelling fragrant, and destined for long-term survival.

As soon as I saw the little starter plants in the green market a few weekends ago, looking far healthier than my wispy little stalks ever could, I knew that I had made a mistake. And then I remembered how I did this very same thing last year and, when my stunted basil never produced enough for a single respectable batch of pesto, I vowed I would remember to start with seedlings rather than seeds the next time. (Fortunately last year we were saved when our neighbors--so green-thumbed that they have been known to grow watermelons on their fire escape--gave us a healthy basil plant that did last the summer.)

Well, I can report that we have had two losses this year already: rosemary (never even sprouted) and thyme (sudden death due to causes unknown). The dill looked promising early on but has since progressed very little. Could it be because I dropped all the herbs on the floor twice in the process of repotting them? I suspect they were not ready for quite such a shake-up. (And that's the bedroom floor I'm referring to--yes, gardening in a little apartment has its risks.)


The surviving little plants are looking so forlorn on our windowsill that I despair of them ever becoming substantial enough to actually cook with. Should I start over with the seedlings I should have used from the outset? Or should I have faith that with enough sun and water, these little plants will eventually come around? It's an either/or decision here because windowsill space is limited. Any suggestions?

Hiding in the Utensil Drawer

Like I said in my last post, we've been finding surprises in unlikely places.