If Mr. Food Musings ever leaves me, I've got my next lover all picked out.
He's a chocolate soufflé cupcake from Macarune. (I bet you thought cupcakes were all girls. Ha! Some of them are metrosexuals.)
I will let him cool his heels in the refrigerator to preserve his youthful good looks until I am ready for him. Then I will remove him from his box with deft and gentle fingers, settling his sweet flesh on the counter to warm up. (My own hot breath might also do the trick.) When the time is right, I'll s-l-o-w-l-y peel his wrapper away and gaze upon his dark chocolate skin. He's a little lumpy, but that isn't age or sloth -- it's chunks of luscious, rich Valrhona chocolate hiding just beneath the surface.
I prefer to attack with a fork rather than with hands or mouth, which may seem a bit unconventional; the advantage is that it prolongs the experience. The ratio of luscious buttercream -- coffee or coconut, I can't say; a lady doesn't kiss and tell! -- to soft, chocolatey cupcake is perfect, and though the buttercream's light texture teases the tongue, it's the perfect foil for the cake's rich flavor and dense crumb.
I blush to confess that I have had this cupcake at least a dozen times in the last few weeks; I am nearly insatiable. I have savored every bite. This is one lover I never tire of.
On second thought, perhaps I'll make the chocolate soufflé cupcake my newest conquest anyway. Mr. FM can watch if he wants -- or join in the fun.
Hell, you can all join in the fun. He only costs $35 (per dozen). Oh...didn't I mention he charges for his services? All the good ones make you pay, one way or another.
As of last Monday, I am officially back in advertising. For those of you who merely skim my witty repartee for the recipes, you may not know that for the last three years, I have been a full-time freelance writer.
For people in the business, those terms may sound like an oxymoron. For me they were, and they weren't. It was full-time work in that writing was all that I did, and the only way that I earned a living. But rare was the week I had enough paid work to fill 40 hours, and financially speaking, the paid work I had provided a "living" that only a small feral cat might find satisfying.
Beyond that, there's the undeniable truth that being a freelance writer is hard. It's lots of brainstorming and chasing and selling and then finally working, which for me at least includes copious amounts of procrastinating, self-doubt, and worry that any semblance of talent vanished the day before. It's also lonely work. Oh sure, the interviews help, but staring down your computer screen for 8 hours a day is no mean task. (Did I mention the pay?)
Luckily, I've had Mr. Food Musing to lean on. That, and I replaced my shopping habit with an Oprah habit quicker than you can say "live your best life."
But life has changed, as it is wont to do. I still have Mr. Food Musings' unending support, but he has needed a bit more of mine lately. So when an opportunity to work for a former boss turned up, I took it. Last week we made if official. I am now an account director at an ad agency here in town, working on the account of a high-tech giant. (That should narrow it down a bit. Not.)
It's a big change, as you can imagine. I have a lot less time for writing, so I am trying to make the most of it. I also have less time to cook, which explains why I have been pretty quiet lately. No one wants to hear about yet another roasted chicken (though it might be interesting to total up all my sushi delivery bills, oy!).
No, my kitchen hasn't been getting much use lately. But I have a few posts up my sleeve -- I want to tell you all about my new favorite cupcakes in exquisite, chocolately detail. I had the best old-fashioned ever just last week, and I have been checking out a slew of new SF restaurants (the rumors about SPQR's awesome-ness are true).
And now (or at least one day very very soon), back to the food...
Do you love macaroons? (What about cupcakes?) If so, you'll fall in love all over again for Macarune cookies in flavors like black sesame, rose, and green tea. Check them out over at KQED's Bay Area Bites.
Last night we called out for sushi. The night before last, I was down in Cupertino at a client dinner; I got home at 10 (and totally missed The Alembic's first birthday). The night before that, I ate a plate of pasta across the street from my office. And tonight? Tonight, we'll order pizza for the big group of friends that's coming over before going out.
Last week, I went to the farmer's market for the first time in months. I was so overwhelmed by the sun-loving crowds, I only bought a bag of okra before I pooped out and sat down to brunch. My first Early Girl tomatoes of the season are slowly rotting in the kitchen, while the fridge is stockpiled with chocolate yogurt from Trader Joe's.
You can see why I haven't been blogging. Forget cooking; I haven't even been eating anything interesting. It's a real conundrum for a food blogger. Do I post about my life, what's changing, what's new? Or do I keep my head down, eat my take out, and wait for something culinary to happen?
I told myself I was going to bake a pie this weekend. A fudge pie, maybe, but a proper pie nonetheless. I had slice after slice in the days surrounding my grandmother's funeral, and each bite reassured me that it was just as divine as I'd thought the bite before. Imagine rich, chocolate, barely-cooked fudgy brownies in a crisp pie shell. Mmm.
But I have errands to do instead. My nails are a wreck, we don't have enough plates for everyone who's coming over tonight, and -- oh yeah -- I lied about the chocolate yogurts. I'm down to one.
On the plus side, the last few days have really felt like fall. The air has developed a certain cold edge, the sky's blue has brightened and the sun's glint is more golden than bright hot yellow. I caught my first glimpse of red leaves on the sidewalk yesterday morning, heralding the return of boots and long sweaters, soups and squash and citrus. That's a good thing.