A Large Splash of Cognac

Top 5 reasons I know I’m not in America anymore:

1.      I have no polish on my nails and haven’t had a manicure in over 3 weeks.

2.      I have only worn heels twice in the past 3 weeks.

3.      The past 2 Shabbats, I was not only the only person in shul wearing heels (the only 2 times I did wear them), but I was also the only one NOT wearing Uggs or Crocs.

4.      I am the only person who actually uses the treadmills to run; everyone else uses them to stand (literally stand, not even a slow walk) and talk (I’m sure I’ll be joining the masses shortly on this one.).

5.      I haven’t had crystal light, brown sugar splenda, or a sugar free vanilla latte in 3 weeks (aspartame detox anyone?).

Vanity is overrated (hah…sure)

      I’m sure this list will grow. 

Sunday night, we went to a Poetry Slam in town (is that what those are called?).  Anyway, I thought it was a universal sign of appreciation to snap instead of applaud for poetry.  People looked at me like I was insane, but I proceeded to snap away. I snapped particularly hard for Lipa Batchi, who did a great job!!

Ira’s second cousin, my new BFF, Naomi (my cute little Nomilah), and I are working up a true masterpiece. 

                                                      Lizzy and Nomilah

I know you all can tell how impressive my poetry writing skills are based on my previous piece, “Ode to the Shabbos Rush.”  I try not to veer away from the A B A B pattern or, when I’m feeling extra chutzpadik [full of nerve], A B A A B ala Robert Frost:

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 

And sorry I could not travel both 

And be one traveler, long I stood 

And looked down one as far as I could 

                To where it bent in the undergrowth.”

(Thank you Dr. and Mrs. Carlson, to whom I owe my poetry memorization skills.)

 …I’m advanced like that.  (BTW, did I just compare myself to Robert Frost? I did, didn’t I?) K, so anyway, between my A B A B and A B A A B rhyming skills and Nomilah’s vast vocabulary and wit, we are working up a poem that will no doubt be the most spectacular collaboration since Simon and Garfunkel.  We plan to entitle our work, “Schlepping Ginger Ale and Unicorns” or something of that nature.

I am told I need to caption this next picture, “And you say I’m not fun.” by my seriously serious 4^th year med student hubby.  (Truthfully, BH one of us actually is serious…or knows how to be when necessary. XO Ira Bear.)

                                              "And you say I'm not fun."

Ira drank a giant beer.  I had 12 handfuls of popcorn. Now that is serious fun, seriously.

Valentine’s Day in the Holy Land is not really acknowledged, which actually works well for us because as Ira says: “We don’t celebrate Valentine’s, we celebrate February 15^th.”  Confusing I know, but it will make sense in a second.

In an attempt to throw me off (and I also think to secretly boycott V-day so he never has to buy me anything for it) Ira proposed to me on February 15^th 2009 at the Statue of Liberty (sounds cheesy, but we had our first date there…okay that justification is even cheesier, but it's true).  Pics from our first date and the proposal are below…cuuuuuuuuuuuuuteeeeeee.

FIRST DATE

                                                              ENGAGED!

Anway, I love Valentine’s Day.  So even though we didn’t exactly “celebrate” as a couple, I decided to wear the most festive thing I brought with me, which turned out to be  my “I <3 Hashem” shirt [Hashem=“the name”=how Jews often refer to G-d…i.e. BH=Baruch Hashem= “Blessed is the Name.”] given to me by one of the world’s most holy tzadekises, Marissa Nuckels.  This prompted Ira to ask me, “Is Hashem your Valentine?” This one threw me for a loop, as I’m not sure how to answer that question considering Valentine’s Day has its origins in Roman Catholicism (correct me if I’m wrong, please).  That being the case, it sounds a little oxymoronic, to say “Hashem is my valentine,” and it doesn’t work to say “Hashem is my valentine, but strictly in that secular, Hallmark and chocolates kind of way” considering I can’t exactly buy a non-physical being a “Be Mine” card, SOOOO for the official record let’s just call it a “coincidence” that I wore my “I <3 Hashem” shirt on February 14^th.  That being said, I <3 Hashem 24/7/365 J

In the end, we did decide to do something very special to commemorate the day.  We went to the mall and ate at Burger’s Bar in the food court.  Now, you tell me that’s not romantic!

On, a completely different note, I’d like to discuss my history in the kitchen.  Remember that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie says her oven is used as storage space for her shoes?  That was me up until two years ago.  I lived in NYC and had a beautiful, brand new kitchen, but the closet space was seriously limited, so oven = additional storage space. What’s a girl to do?  Literally for my 6 years in New York, I never turned on an oven or a stove…not once (I did however, use my microwave almost every day….for popcorn and leftovers.)  If you opened my fridge, all you would’ve seen is the following (Sari, Jenn, Jenna, Lauren Last, Lindsay, and Ira can all attest to this):

1.      8 cans of diet coke (delivered with the Chinese I ordered…always “Can I have the chicken with cashew nuts with extra string beans, no oil, and 4 cans of diet coke?” I should have to leave my apartment to buy soda? I think not.)

2.      A bag of dark chocolate Hershey’s kisses (they taste so good when refrigerated).

3.      A bottle of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spray (I know you are seriously all judging me for my affinity for artificial flavoring and sweetener…lay off!)

Oh yah, and in the freezer there was vodka.

Who can blame me?  New York has amazing food and everywhere has free delivery!

And then there was the day that changed it all…the turning point in my culinary life…and arguably the beginning of my “Mrs.” training (sorry to my feminist friends).  It was the day Lauren Friedman and I decided to actually cook Shabbat dinner (no, not the whole dinner..I think kugels and dessert were purchased).  Neither one of us had ever come into contact with raw chicken.  We were both terrified.  I remember it took ALL day to make baked chicken and string beans…literally something around 8 hours.  We were exhausted, sweaty, and the food was below average.  BUT I’m telling you…it was on this very day that I had my life-changing revelation…chicken is chicken and if you can cook it one way, you can cook it any number of ways.  I call this “getting over the chicken hump.” 

Now, you may be asking, “That’s nice, Lizzy, but what does any of this have to do with Israel?”  If you would relax for a second, I would tell you!

So, being that our first actual cooking experience was together, it was only appropriate that Lauren and I have our first gourmet cooking experience together.  There was a groopbuy for a cooking class at the Jerusalem Culinary Institute, so Laur informed me I would be purchasing it (This is very much the dynamic of our friendship.  She says “Jump,” I say “How high?”).  For sentimental reasons, to honor our “getting over the chicken hump,” we decided to take the “French Chicken Workshop.”

We walked in pretty late because who can get a cab during rush hour?! And we don’t exactly make quiet entrances when we go places.  You pretty much know we’ve arrived and people love us or hate us when we’re together (primarily the latter…we’ve been known to get no shortage of dirty looks and send yeshiva boys and rabbis running from our boisterous irreverence…specifically on airplanes.).  The chef didn’t know what had hit him and I think he secretly wanted to teach us a lesson.  When it came time to flambé the brandy [set it on fire], he asked Lauren and I to do the demonstration.  He said, “Just pour in the brandy and then light it, you’ll be fine.” There was no, “Stand back.” Or “Lean away.”  Just simply, “Pour and light.”  Well, Lauren poured (generously), and she lit. And WOOOOSHHHHH…Lauren’s face was immersed in a flame the size of Rhode Island!!!!!!!!!! The chef then calmly said in his elegant British accent, “Lauren, I think you may have burnt off your eyebrows,” and then returned to business as usual. Sure enough they were scorched, but BH, not too badly.  Not to worry Lauren, you have a beautiful punim [face] that I will always adore…with our without eyebrows.

Minus the fire incident (which the chef was completely unphased by), the class was so much fun! We cooked chicken “Coq Au Vin” with “Pomme Puree”.  Has anyone ever made a “Pomme Puree?”  Well, I thought that was a fancy way of saying “mashed potatoes.”  Apparently, to make a potato “puree” you need the following contraption, called a “muoli.” 

I have officially had my arm workout for the week.  Doesn’t it kind of look like a weapon? I wonder what else we can “puree.”  Cashew chicken? Chocolate cake?  If I ever become too lazy to chew, I’m going to invest in one of these. The possibilities are truly endless and you too can have one of these devices for the low price of 90 shekels. 

Not only did we eat our gourmet dish, but we also snacked and snacked and snacked some more on baked potato skins the whole time.  I think I liked the potato skins more than the “Coq Au Vin.”  How about you, Laur?

Please enjoy the Coq Au Vin recipe:

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons margarine (which Lauren and I vehemently refused to use, that’s right, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter is okay, but margarine is not…the rules I live by)

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cleaned chicken breasts

1 splash of cognac brandy

2 glasses of red wine (and an extra for yourself while you cook if you’d like)

3 shallots, peeled and diced (I used 6 because I <3 shallots, and my cooking neighbor       didn’t)

6 mushrooms, cut into slices about a 3^rd of an inch thick

1 glass of chicken stock

1 Tbsp. of tomato paste

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

A pinch each of thyme and oregano

1 bay leaf

Directions:

1.      Melt margarine in the oil (or be like Lauren and me and just use the oil) and when it starts to smoke, place chicken breast in the frying pan and season well with salt and pepper.

2.      Lower the flame and turn the chicken while continuing to cook for 5 minutes.

3.      Uncover and splash the cognac. Light it. (STAND BACK AND LEAN AWAY AND HOLD ONTO YOUR EYEBROWS FOR DEAR LIFE!) Carefully shake the pan until the flames have gone and set the chicken aside.

4.      In a frying pan, sauté the shallots until soft.

5.      Add the mushrooms and sauté for another minute.

6.      Deglaze with red wine,

reduce,

and add the tomato paste

and then add the stock.  Simmer and season to taste. (I learned that if it reduces too much, just keep adding stock…I know this is obvious, but I often get caught up in the directions of the recipe and fear doing anything NOT in it.  So, I am telling everyone out there like me, it’s okay to add more liquid if it’s reducing too quickly.)

7.      Place the chicken breast in the sauce and cover with the sauce and simmer for five minutes.

8.      Enjoy!!

Additional Pics from our culinary adventure:

                                            "When do we get to eat?"

                                                     "Come on baby, light my fire"

            with the Rav, ooops, I mean the chef...too much yidishkeit in this country...starting to lose it