Weekend Update

It's HOT. Almost 100 degrees, muggy, close, steamy kind of hot. I've previously referenced how well I function in the heat (short answer - not well), so it's a particular accomplishment for me that I've been able to have the culinary-love fest that I've been having. To be fair, it's never really hard for me to eat.

Yesterday, we attended the Beer, Bourbon and Barbecue Festival at the National Harbor. There were tasting stations for hundreds of beers and bourbons, plus barbecue stations and cooking demonstrations. This guy was my favorite:

Yes, that's a whole pig. Yes, it was delicious. Plus, they were handing out FREE BACON.


(You didn't believe me, did you? That's why I had to provide photographic evidence.)

Then this morning Steve and I checked out a new restaurant on Barrack's Row, Ted's Bulletin. I highly recommend that you check this one out if you're in the DC area. The decor is very cool - it's built to look like a 1930's-era diner or scoop shop (they have an extensive menu of milkshakes), and it has a fun old-timey feel. It didn't hurt that the food was also excellent.

After brunch we took a walk through the Eastern Market. This is one of my favorite places in DC -- so many farmers and vendors come through there, and it's a great place to spend a Sunday morning. I picked up some sweet West Virginia peaches, fresh mozzarella cheese from the cheese stand (p.s.: We also sampled some 'pirano' cheese -- has anyone ever had this? It's supposed to be a cross between parmesan and gouda, and it's so rich and nutty and flavorful, I almost bought a block right there), and an enormous yellow beefsteak tomato. I am normally not a huge tomato fan, but I was happily eating these samples at the market. It's so fresh and summery - I can't wait to eat it with tonight's dinner. Which is going to be pizza!

I've made the dough (rising now), I've roasted the tomato with a big eggplant from the organic market, and I'm going to cover the whole thing with basil and mozzarella. Stay tuned for the full report!

Weekend Update UPDATE:

It was pretty delicious.

(Not pictured: I set the bowl with the rising dough on the stovetop while I roasted the vegetables, figuring that the heat from the oven would help the dough to rise. It actually baked a part of the dough, meaning that I wound up with less pizza dough.) Steve enjoyed the half-baked/half-raw bread-like concoction that was created, however.

(Also not pictured: when I went to check on the pizza while baking, I pulled the rack out, and then lifted it a little bit to put it back in place. The result was the pizza sliding off the rack and the eggplant falling on the oven floor while I yelled profanities and Steve watched in horror. Still good, though!)

My Bad Habit

I have a terrible habit of putting my belongings in a safe place...somewhere that I'll be sure not to lose it. Somewhere that it will be secure. Somewhere that I will surely not forget where it is and will be able to find the important item at a moment's notice.

Unfortunately, I always seem to forget where that safe place is.

Take, for instance, the saga of my digital camera. I moved dorm rooms sophomore year of college, and when I packed up my stuff I put the camera somewhere safe. It was a random, and yet logical, moving space, I reasoned, sure to protect my precious camera during the treacherous move.

After moving I forgot where it was, decided it had been stolen, and lobbied my parents hard for a replacement...until I got packed up to go back to school in August and discovered the camera in a box of winter hats. Safe! Warm! Scratch-proof! (I had not yet learned that a camera case can serve the same function, apparently.)

You would think that I had learned this about myself and stopped hiding things in secure locations like some bizarre squirrel, but alas I have not. This past week I was positive that I had lost the purse that I had used at a wedding this weekend. I turned my whole room upside-down. I demanded that Steve check the bag that he had brought to my house, to ensure that he inadvertently tried to add a polka-dotted Longchamp bag to his wardrobe. I enlisted the help of roommate Michelle to scour the room with me. No luck. It was gone. I mourned the loss of my eyeliner. My favorite lip gloss. The train ticket that I had purchased for my trip this weekend. The cute bag, with its whimsical polka dots. Somehow, I determined, I had lost it.

Finally Michelle asked me where I normally put my bags after I came home. Rolling my eyes, I told her that I normally hang them on the corner of my bed frame. To show her how ridiculous a theory that truly was, I flung back the covers with a flourish to show her the empty bed post ...and found my purse. *

* In this case, 'safe place' can also refer to 'the spot where things are supposed to go, instead of the pile of laundry and debris currently taking up 80% of my floor space.'

What about you? What are your bad habits?

BabyGrill

Back when I was working on the campaign, my friends Richard and Melissa began referring to everyone as "babygirl."It didn't matter who it was: Heads of State? Babygirl. Presidential candidates? Babygirl. Supreme Court Justices? Babygirl. Mrs. Jones/Smith/Magoo in Litchfield, New Hampshire? Babygirl.

And the habit continues today as the rest of us picked it up. Roommate Michelle and I frequently refer to people, places, and favorite politicians as Babygirl. So when the newest addition to my culinary family arrived...


...I knew there could only be one name for it. Welcome to little b's kitchen, Babygrill. Now make me some hot dogs.