2010

Our travels in the year 2009 are complete. After trekking up to Pennsylvania for the holiday and then out to Virginia for Christmas - Part Two, we are home in the railroad apartment to ring in the New Year. We're staying in to watch 500 Day of Summer, the Jersey Shore (we were battlin'), and Ryan Seacrest. We've got arugula salad with beets and goat cheese, clams, and chicken stuffed with cornbread courtesy of Whole Foods to make. Should be fun.

For Christmas this year, we were much less ambitious with our home-cooked gifts for family. Last year, you'll remember we made all this. This year, we had a grand plan. It involved this instant cocoa (which we succeeded in making), these homemade marshmallows which Martha made with Clare Danes on her show two weeks ago, and this caramel corn. And... a candy thermometer. Which we couldn't find at Whole Foods - the only food store we had access to with all the snow on the ground. And, since we discovered this little problem after the big snowstorm and the day before we intended to leave for Pennsylvania, we needed to shift gears. We ended up making the cocoa, the peanut blossom cookies from last year, and some homemade gingerbread, which turned out really well.

Wishing you and your families all the best in the new year!

Keep sweeping, Martha

P.S. - Mr. Beeton's already a bit disappointed in 2010; he thinks he should have his own robot and a flying car by now.

Watched The Hangover...again.

snow!

Watched Strangers on a Train. Finished reading My Life in France by Julia Child.

A Three-Leaf Clover

Forgive me. I've been remiss in sharing with you our Thanksgiving culinary adventures. I should have written about how we made this delicious cranberry sauce and this delectable sweet potato casserole. Or even how we took our leftovers and made a fabulous, creamy, turkey soup. But instead, I've been recovering from a nasty cold and a case of POISON IVY. The poison is the bad part. The good part is that I'm nearly certain I got the poison while weeding our brand new garden plot - Plot 25!

Technically, we got notice that we were proud plot renters a couple of weeks ago, but with all our previous community garden drama, I hesitated to actually put in writing our success. But, weeks have passed, and no one has taken it away... so I think it's safe to claim it as ours. Below are three pictures. The first two show it at the start - an overgrown mess. The third shows our progress. We have about half of the space dug up and ready to be planted come Spring.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Bedtime Stories, Funny People, New In Town, Observe and Report, Scenes From a Marriage, and Whatever Works.

i've been around the world, in the pouring rain

"Feeling out of place, really feeling strange
Take me to a place, where they know my name
Cause I ain’t met nobody that looks the same"

I've been on the road the past two weekends. One trip with Mr. Beeton and Ella. And one trip without. The premise of the first trip to Atlanta was that I was presenting a paper on blogging in the feminist, writing classroom at the National Women's Studies Association. But, in actuality, it was our wedding anniversary. So, we decided to celebrate in Georgia - the state we visited two years earlier on our honeymoon.

The first day was devoted to the conference. Our panel went well. My talk was fine. And, Angela Davis, the keynote speaker, showed up during our presentation. Afterward, Mr. Beeton and I celebrated with my fellow panelists at Terrace where we treated ourselves to some really good local and regional food.

The next day, though, was when we really celebrated. We had made brunch reservations through Open Table at Eno where Eli from Top Chef cooks. But, after trekking through town, we arrived at Eno to discover it's not open for lunch on Saturdays. So, we settled for bloody marys and frittatas at Baraonda, which wasn't really settling at all. Later that night, we had Kung Pao "Lollipops," lobster and king crab legs, and Lychee sangria at Straits (for all you Ludacris fans). We followed that up with a $17 glass of champagne at Eno and a few glasses of wine back at Fandangles with Brucem, our bartender. We definitely engaged in some difficult dialogues with him.

My solo trip to New York City to talk about chick lit at NYU was not as eventful nor was it packed with good food like on the Atlanta trip. It was pouring. A Steely Dan superfan sat on the train next to me. And, seeing successful chick lit writers made me really want to quit my job. But, it was filled with one good old friend and lots of little new ones.

I'm glad to finally be home.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched The Hangover, Bottleshock, and Slumdog Millionaire.

the fabric of our lives

brushing the dusky window

Fall is here. It's chillier. The sun feels different. It's dark when my last class ends at 5:30 pm. Halloween came and went. With homemade costumes and trick-or-treat.

And now, we're headed - full force - into the most hectic time of the semester. Students are frantically researching, furiously writing, and often sighing loudly when I ask, "And how are you adding to the conversation?" Soon it will be Thanksgiving. Their papers will be done, and life will get a lot simpler.

I'm in the midst of working on my own paper -one that I'll be presenting in Atlanta next week. It's about using blogs in the feminist, writing classroom. In reading about blogs, it occurred to me, "Hey. Wait. Don't I have a blog?"

Generally speaking, I don't care for colder weather. I like summer. The hotter, the better. But, I do love food in the fall, particularly this Chickpea Hot Pot recipe from 101 Cookbooks. It's one of the best vegetarian recipes I've ever eaten, too. And, since I know one of my only loyal readers doesn't touch meat, I thought it was a doubly appropriate post for November.

Don't try this one in summer. It just tastes weird; I'm not sure why. We made it the other night after crunching through the leaves with Ella. Perfect for fall.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Trying to read Twilight. Took about 15 college students to see Where the Wild Things Are.

second floor living without a yard

canned friendship

I'm excited about the weekend. In part, because I won't have any grading to do (okay, maybe a little, but nothing compared to the last two weeks). And, in part, because we are going to see John Stewart. With friends. Yup. That's right. We've found ourselves some friends... I think.

Making friends in D.C. has not been an easy prospect. In part, because we were spoiled. Both Mr. Beeton and I had fabulous friends in undergrad, and when we moved on to graduate school, we found equally fabulous friends. Since coming here, though, it's been hard to connect with people. My campus is an "urban institution," so many of the people that I work with live far outside the city - commuting to work is a problem for them let alone coming back to hang out. Mr. Beeton is finishing up at a school outside the city. His commute is long (though fun on his Stella scooter), but he doesn't much care for going back outside the city in the evenings or on weekends. Of course, we have a handful of people that we met through his old job, mostly graduate students in the Chemistry department (hence, our connection with The Chemist). But, they were all part of a previously established group, and while they are gracious enough to include us on their outings from time to time, an old, married couple like ourselves are not their top priority (nor should we be!). As a result, we spend a lot of our spare time in our railroad apartment, petting Ella, and wishing that we lived in Savannah so we could go out for some Thai food and drinks with friends.

I told Mr. Beeton that I had an idea. One of my favorite bloggers, Shauna James Ahern, had written recently about a canning party that she had. I thought we should put an ad on craigslist. Mr. Beeton said, No. He finds the people who come to our house to buy our old appliances and furniture, chatting about the design of our apartment, creepy.

So, instead, we are going to dinner with two people who seem interesting and fun. And, if it doesn't work out, there's always John at the end of the evening.

Keep sweeping, Martha

bon appetit

I have a confession to make. 

I went to see Julie and Julia.

Over a month ago.

And I haven't blogged about it.

I had intended to, of course. My plan was to see the movie, buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking, cook the now infamous boeuf bourguignon, and then blog about it. 

But, I kept getting foiled. First, I couldn't find the book. I went to a couple of bookstores in and around Georgetown, and Julia's tome was no where to be found. I then ordered it online. But, when it came, we had just made some sort of beef stew in the crock pot. And, while I know our crock pot concoction couldn't compare, Mr. Beeton and I were just not that hungry for beef. Then, I read the recipe. I got scared, mainly by the bacon. And the intensity. I thought I'd try something else. A chocolate souffle, raspberry bavarian cream. Each time, though, I chickened out. And, then the papers came, obscuring the entire dining room table. I think Julia's book might be buried underneath.

So, instead, I thought I'd blog about how I had intended to cook something from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. And how you should go see Julie and Julia. It's really, really good. I'd compare its goodness to the boeuf bourguignon, but as you know, I haven't gotten around to making it yet.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Julie and Julia.

foiled again

It's been a rough week here in the railroad apartment. A bright spot, though, was an email we received indicating that there were three plots available at the community garden down the street. We were told to stop by, take a look, and rank our preferences. We did just that. And then the next night, we went back to look again, dreaming of rows of beans and plump tomatoes.

But, then today, we got another message, saying we'd been passed over in favor of those higher on the list who had responded after we did. You may remember we got our hopes up before, too. Maybe third time's a charm? Fingers crossed.

Keep sweeping, Martha

daily sweets

This week started off with a bang and is ending with a whimper, thankfully.

This summer, I wrote about how author, Joanne Rendell, contacted me about reading an advanced copy of her book, Crossing Washington Square. Monday night, we were very honored to host her on our campus for a reading. While the event itself went fabulously, the days leading up to her visit were not so smooth. They included a realization on Friday that no food had been ordered for the reception and a trip on Sunday to Georgetown Cupcake to cut in front of a crazy-long line to pick up three dozen of their tasty treats.

The madness was worth it, though. Joanne agreed to eat dinner with a few students at Figs on MacArthur Boulevard before heading over to her reading. She talked for a bit about the novel then called on a few eager students to assist her with the reading. Afterwards, the audience asked questions, enjoyed the cupcakes, and chatted informally with each other and with Joanne. Quite a few of my students came, as I had hoped. They read a piece ("Unschooling") in class by Joanne and were excited to see the face behind the words. The next night, I took a few up to the Borders in Friendship Heights where Joanne gave a repeat performance.

After the first event, I had a student email me to say that she had never before met an author whom she had to read in class. Her email ended with the declaration, "I love college." The second night, a male student (mind you, I teach a course themed around women's autobiography and, very often, my male students are a little disgruntled) told me that another male student, who had attended the reading the first night, texted him to say that it was "totally worth it" and that he should head up to the Borders if he had time. Sometimes, students can be so sweet.

The cupcakes, though... they were definitely the icing on a truly terrific two days.

Thanks, Joanne!

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watching Real Housewives of Atlanta and The Rachel Zoe Project. Not reading fast enough.

missin' the kitchen

Watched I Love You, Man, Coraline, Obsessed, the first 10 minutes of Gigli (rhymes with really), and Adventureland (4 stars).

mastering the art of the slow cooker

School starts. Monday. I can't believe how incredibly sad I am to see summer go. And how much summer stuff I still want to do. But, it's time to shift gears, make syllabi, attend faculty retreats.

Mr. Beeton and I tried our hand at some crockpot cooking in preparation for the school year ahead. For our wedding, we received an obscene, All-Clad Deluxe Slow Cooker (not on our registry). I was incensed. We have very little room in our railroad apartment for pots and pans, let alone a slow cooker that could easily feed twenty. Plus, I already had a lovely, small crockpot that my grandmother had given me. Mr. Beeton didn't want to exchange a gift we received for cash; he felt strongly about it. So, we kept it, and I fumed, frequently bringing it up in arguments that we'd have, even if those arguments weren't about slow cookers.

But, I made peace with it last winter. It's actually a fabulous way to cook a meal when you don't have a lot of time, and plus, it provides us with plenty of leftovers. During the school year, this is particularly ideal, so we are planning to put a slow-cooked meal into our regular weeknight rotation.

The recipe we tried the other night came from one of my mother's magazines. Overall, it turned out well, but I'd recommend adding an extra apple and, if you have the Super-Deluxe slow cooker, toning down the cooking time. Ours got a little mushy after six hours. Start it in the morning and eat it in the evening. That gives you a whole lot of time in between to work on that syllabus.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watching Entourage: Season Five.

fonz

onward and upward ever

Whew. Traveling can take a lot out of a person. Mr. Beeton and I are close to recovered from our trip to the Pacific Northwest. The time difference really took a toll on me, though. I feel like today is the first day that I woke up at a normal hour and ate on schedule. No wonder I've never been one of those people who dream of far-away places. I can barely travel cross country without needing to hit a reset button.

Our trip started in Portland, Oregon (after a quick switch by Continental... "You wanted to fly to Oregon? Sorry, your flight was cancelled. Why don't you take a train from 30th Street Station to Newark instead?"). We visited with family, saw the cutest kitchen in the world, played with cats, stopped in at Powell's, did some sightseeing, walked around Portland State, and enjoyed some terrific Thai food before heading up north to Tacoma. There, we stayed in a big, old, rambling beauty of a house, hugged Grammy many, many times, drove through Point Defiance, ate at Anthony's, bought some Fiestaware (it's a family tradition), and headed up to Seattle.

I don't want to offend any of my new West Coast relatives, but I have to admit that Seattle held a few "blog-worthy" gems. Among them were some delicious Dungeness crab ravioli at Volterra and a trip to Pike Place.

The two places that I want to tell you about, though, are a bit off the beaten path. The first may be familiar to virtual "foodies," but my suspicion is that not many have had first hand experience with Delancey - the pizza shop opened by Molly Wizenberg (of Organette) and her husband, Brandon. We had met Molly in D.C. at a book signing she had at Borders earlier this year. While getting our book signed, Mr. Beeton boldly told Molly that we'd be in Seattle in August and would love to stop by and try the new place out. The only thing is that right before we left we realized the restaurant would not be open. Rather, when we were scheduled to be there, there would be a series of invited dinners. Mr. Beeton insisted I write, explaining my food memoir project, and see if we could score a seat. I was too embarrassed, so instead, we drove by, took some pictures, and Auntie K scored us a menu. Molly scanned her own in, so I'll just link to her site (for copyright reasons... I am an English teacher, after all). It doesn't look like much from outside, but the smell coming from inside was fantastic.

The second spot was a little plot of land that some guerillas have taken over. Mr. Beeton's cousin K and her boyfriend M are involved in a little activity called guerilla gardening. They found a plot of undeveloped land behind their apartment and planted away, using wine bottles to warm the cold Seattle soil. I thought it was a pretty sweet spot.

So, what's a good way to re-enter your "real" life after a vacation like this? With a recipe from your very own West Coast relative. Actually, I re-discovered this recipe from one of my very best roommates ever - E from Corvalis. She made it when I graduated from Delaware, and when my mother tasted it at the party, she said it was the same dish my Aunt J from California used to make. It's become one of my comfort foods since it reminds me of some of the best people in my life.

Chicken Curry With Artichokes

There are a lot of recipes out there on the web, but I like this one the best because it's my own.

• Cook chicken-flavored Rice-A-Roni, according to the instructions on the box.
• When it's done, put it in a big yellow bowl (or any other kind of happy serving bowl you have around).
• Add some artichokes and a little of the juice. I like artichokes in a glass jar.
• Add a good number of green olives.
• Add as much mayonnaise as you like.
• Add as much curry powder as you like.
• You can add boiled chicken, too, but I like it better without.

Traditionally, I believe this salad is served cold, but I can never wait. It's good warm, too.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished watching Mad Men: Season 2. Also watched Gigantic. Read The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry by Kathleen Flinn.

chicken dance

It's off to Pennsylvania tomorrow to do a little chicken dancing at Musikfest before we head out to the Pacific Northwest for some fresh salmon. Enjoy the start of a wonderful August, readers.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading Amanda Hesser's Cooking for Mr. Latte (thanks, JJ!). Watching Mad Men: Season 2.

going live

I've been complaining to Mr. Beeton lately about the lack of traffic on my blog. "I really want to know how to protect my tomatoes!" I lamented. "But nobody reads my site aside from you!" "Martha," he replied. "No one - aside from me, your sister, and your brother ("And, a small sampling of random readers who stumbled upon my site," I remind him.) -  even knows your blog exists. It's your best kept secret." Hrmph. 

He's right. I haven't publicized my blog to friends or family. I guess I'm a little shy. The easiest thing to do would be to post the link on that social networking site that everyone seems to belong to. But, then I start to think about my "friends" - old high school classmates, former students, work colleagues - all of whom - if I posted the link - would be able to trawl through my postings. Would the former high school cheerleader who was never quite mean but never quite nice laugh as I complained about the drain of sifting through student source packets when she was running after three kids all under the age of four? Would the bright, excitable student from the Spring semester curse my name as she tried, desperately, to reproduce the recipe for tandoori chicken in her residence hall? Would my colleagues finally realize that sometimes, just sometimes, their excessive emails drive me batty? It's strange. I'd feel very exposed. Yet, isn't that what blogging is all about? Having an audience is what makes blogging different from diary writing, right?

Just when I've almost convinced myself  that posting my link is the right thing to do, I get all anxious about crafting that first post that they will encounter once they hit the link. Chances are, if I do post the link to my page, it might show up in my "friends'" newsfeeds. In my imagination, they'll link immediately to the page, eager to read what I've been writing, and it's imperative that I have something fabulous for them - otherwise they'll never return. A terrific recipe. A witty rumination on laundry. Something, anything, to keep them entertained. In her book Cooking for Mr. Latte, Amanda Hesser writes about the pressure she felt cooking for Mr. Latte in her home: "The first meal you cook someone is intimate. Not just if it's for a date. And not just because no one cooks anymore - it really has nothing to do with whether you are a good cook or not. It's an entry into the way you think, what you've seen and know, the way you treat others, how you perceive pleasure. Dinner guests can see by how you compose a meal if you are an ungenerous hothead or a nuturer, stingy or clever, fussy or stylish" (19). That's a little like how I feel about this post and putting up the link to The Happy Homekeeper for all to see.

So I'll start with a recipe for chickpea and carrot salad, which I adapted from the following site, A Mingling of Tastes. 

Carrot and Chickpea Salad with Olives and Cumin Vinaigrette

Julie says, to make the vinaigrette, mix the following ingredients:

• 1 medium garlic clove
• zest of 1/2 a lemon and juice of the whole lemon
• 1 tbs. ground cumin
• 2 tsp. Hungarian paprika
• pinch of cayenne pepper
• 1 tsp. salt
• black pepper, to taste
• 3 tbs. extra virgin olive oil

I say, "Cut up four carrots into small, round pieces. Boil them until they are tender. Mix them with a can of drained chick peas, a little yellow onion (or some scallions), and some green (or black) olives. Coat with vinaigrette and chill in refrigerator until ready to eat."

We ate this salad with tandoori chicken and lemonade mojitos last night. The chickpea salad would be easy to make if you live in residence hall downtown, but the tandoori chicken would not. And, hopefully, if you're a first-year student you'll avoid the lemonade mojitos until you're of age. If you're an aging cheerleader, however, I'd encourage you to have two.

And, now, I'll just sit back and wait for some dear readers to discover...

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading Climbing the Mango Trees by Madhur Jaffrey.

land of the living

I never realized how much of my life revolves around food. Right now, of course, my academic work is focusing on food, but it's more than just that. I use food to mark occasions - from the big events in life like anniversaries to birthdays to the everyday small stuff like finishing an article or actually having cleaned the house. Essentially, ever since my high school days when Twin Peaks first aired, I've lived by Special Agent Dale Cooper's philosophy:  "Harry, I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair, or two cups of good, hot black coffee." For me, these presents nearly always revolve around food - frappucinos, take-out sushi, fresh veggies. Even more likely, I get this tendency to celebrate gastronomically from my Nana. She always used food to express her love, and I remember a lot of good times at her house that involved some sort of deliciousness (I'm still searching for a recipe of hers that resulted in a dreamy, blended jello/ice cream dessert... I inherited her dishes to serve it in, but I can't seem to get the measurements exactly right to reproduce the darn thing).

The reason I'm reflecting right now is because I am finally - after a painful week - able to eat. My summer bug turned out to be strep throat, and it had progressed so far that, after attacking my tonsils, it actually crawled out of my throat and started assaulting my mouth proper, causing painful blisters all around the inside of my mouth. Most of what I ate caused my mouth to burn, burn, burn, so I was reduced to a diet of yogurt, applesauce, oatmeal, and buttered 'ronis. So painful. Even more painful than the blisters. 

But, today, for the first time, I feel better. The blisters are almost healed, and I'm celebrating with a roast - some serious comfort food. I popped it in the crock pot for the day with half a box of beef stock, some cut up yellow onions, some sliced red potatoes, and some carrots. I can't think of a better way to celebrate. My Nana would be proud.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watching Mad Men: Season 1. Finished reading Climbing the Mango Trees by Madhur Jaffrey.

summer buggin'

I've got some kind of weird summertime bug. It's causing me aches, chills, nausea, headache, swollen glands, and some kind of weird, burning rash-type thing in my mouth. It's bizarre. I went to the dentist today, thinking I had something lodged in my gums which was causing everything else, but he said it's a virus. Tomorrow, I'll get a second opinion. I need some sleep and some relief from the throbbing in my mouth.

On the bright side, it looks like it may have been squirrels and not deer responsible for our tomato pillaging. Okay, that's not particularly good either. Especially when the culprits are now running around in the space between our ceiling and our roof. Apparently, they've evicted the birds who are much quieter and claimed the space as their own. Calls to our management company have gone unanswered. 

My sickness means that I haven't been able to post a recipe for lemonade that I made up the other day - in part, because I still need to pick up some ingredients to finish it off. It's half-finished right now in the fridge, and it combines a part of the white sangria recipe I posted about earlier and Paula Deen's recipe for homemade lemonade. If and when it gets done, I'll share.

For now, I need to rinse with salt water. That will cure anything.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Grey Gardens (HBO) and Bride Wars.

dang deer

Ella and I decided to spend the afternoon in the garden. Okay, so it's not exactly a garden, but it's as close as we can get here in the city. Mr. Beeton and I have been very excited because our tomato plants have about six tomatoes on them, and some of them are getting ripe! We've been dreaming of gazpacho, bruschetta, and eating them right off the vine.

BUT THEY'RE GONE! Completely, utterly, totally gone.

I got Ella situated on her green leash, so she could sunbathe, and when I walked over to the container garden, the pepper plant was knocked over as was the tomato plant. And, the tomato plant was BARE! Something had knocked the pepper plant out of the way and eaten the tomatoes right off the vine... like I've been dreaming of. 

My suspicion is that the deer are to blame. I know, I know, we're in the city...but we've got a small population of deer in the woods across from our apartment. I saw them munching on some flowers in front of one of the apartment complexes next to us. So, yes, I'm thinking it's deer. 

This is one of those times that I wish I had some loyal readers to help me! If anyone reads this blog and has any suggestions for keeping these pesky deer away, let me know. Our gazpacho depends on it.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl.

third time

Mr. Beeton and I just got back from our vacation in Ocean City, New Jersey where we spent a lot of time jumping waves and flying kites with Baby M. Though we missed out on the skeeball and tilt-a-whirl, we managed to pack in all our other favorite things about the Jersey shore. And, I'm happy to say that when we returned our garden hadn't wilted nearly as much as I had thought it might, thanks, in part, to The Chemist.

Returning to D.C., though, was a bit of a jolt. I promised Mr. Beeton that I'd go food shopping for the week since he was going to be busy on campus preparing to teach a three-week long science summer camp. I felt as though I couldn't function when I hit the aisles. I was at a loss for how to shop. Eating out for a week straight made me forget all my homekeeping skills!

Yesterday morning, though, I cooked myself a delicious breakfast, finally mastering the art of the soft boiled egg. It took me three tries, but the final one came out perfect. Six minutes. Not too soft, not too hard. I mushed it up in a coffee mug, salted it, and enjoyed. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. Finished reading Untangling My Chopsticks by Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Just Take My Heart by Mary Higgins Clark, and Plenty by Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon. 

where all your dreams come true

Shriver's salt water taffy, Dot's bakery, skeeball, Wonderland, tilt-a-whirl, Mack and Manco's, seagulls, sunsets... here we come.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Away We Go and Charade.

sweet and sour

As I may have mentioned, while I'm a homekeeper at heart, I'm an academic by day and spend most of the year teaching and writing about women's literature. With academia comes highs and lows - as with any job, I suspect. This summer (so far), I've been on one long high (despite the revise and resubmit letter I received today for an article about Sylvia Plath that I have written), working on a new project about food writing, specifically the work of women food writers.

While I suspected this summer would be all about reading about eating, it started off with a reminder that I haven't left my old love of chick lit behind. In early May, I received an email from Joanne Rendell, whose written a new book entitled Crossing Washington Square. Her work, from what I gathered, was chick lit about academics, which, of course, immediately appealed to me. And, her new novel, which will be released in early fall, is about a chick lit scholar and a Sylvia Plath scholar who find themselves at odds and are forced to confront some misconceptions that they have about one another and the literature they love. Joanne contacted me to see if I'd be interested in reading an advanced copy. Of course! I replied.

You see Sylvia Plath was the author who really launched my whole graduate career. I had enrolled in graduate school in English only because I desperately wanted to complete a Museum Studies degree and work in the education department of a museum upon graduating. At the graduate school that I attended, you were only allowed to receive a certificate in Museum Studies if you were enrolled in a degree program. I picked English because I loved to read. Naive, I know.

Something curious happened, though, as I sat in on classes and began to teach. I found out that I really wanted to be a professor. And I found myself thinking critically about literature in a way that I never had before. I wrote a paper on Sylvia Plath and The Bell Jar (which I've since revised more times than I can count and which is the ill-fated essay that I spoke of earlier); I got interested in food and literature; and I discovered chick lit - a contemporary women's genre which is all about consumption (food, sex, shopping). Despite discouraging remarks from an older, female faculty member who noted I'd never get anywhere writing about "beach reading" (shame on her! bad feminist!), I wrote my dissertation on chick lit, looking at British and American novels - from Bridget Jones's Diary to The Cigarette Girl - and analyzing the way in which the books engaged with consumer culture, particularly women's advice manuals. So, I found it freaky when Joanne said her new novel was about a Plath scholar and a chick lit scholar - my self, split, it seemed. But, her book wasn't freaky at all. It's actually very, very good and speaks - on a fictional level - to a lot of the issues that I discuss in my own work.

So... how did I arrive at food memoirs this summer? In my disseration (which later turned into a book - out in paperback this month!), I had a chapter devoted to domestic-advice publications, like Martha Stewart's Living. My current project is slowly growing out of that chapter as I search for interesting food memoirs to read and write about. I've got a whole stack in my back room right now that I'm waiting to devour. It should prove to be quite a yummy summer.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading The Professors' Wives' Club and Crossing Washington Square by Joanne Rendell. Also read Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China by Fuschia Dunlop.

pincher

Mr. Beeton and I are in the middle of a financial crisis. Okay... that might be a little extreme. We're not exactly broke. We just mismanaged our monthly finances during our trip to Savannah. We grossly overspent, which means these last two weeks we've been making due with what we've got in the fridge until the next paycheck comes.

It's been kind of fun, actually, foraging for food and coming up with recipes using the ingredients that we find. Our week started with Toscana soup, using some frozen chicken sausage stuffed with spinach and feta that we had from the last time we made Toscana soup. The next night, we used some old frozen hamburger meat to make tacos. Following that, we paired our frozen potstickers with a recipe for Basmati rice pilaf, which we'll use again this week for a modified paella, adding the leftover, leftover chicken sausage and red peppers. To satisfy my sweet tooth, I made chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, using leftover chips from Christmas.

Of course, we won't be able to not spend ANY money from now until the end of the month, especially since this week promises visits with a brother, a former roommate, and an aunt, but when we are able to eat at home, we're trying to do so wisely, stocking up with ingredients for cheap meals. I'll let you know how this week's adventures go, if they're as edible (and economical) as last week's.

Keep sweeping, Martha

no cigar

We were so close to having a plot in the nearby community garden this past week that we could almost taste the homegrown lettuce and snap peas. We received an email from the garden manager noting that a particularly pesky plot was up for grabs. Usually, they just go down the list (we're about 2,500 on it), but since this plot was "challenging," there was a need for some experienced - or at least committed and enthusiastic - gardeners to take over what Mr. Beeton immediately called Plot 9 from Outer Space. We put our name in the ring, hoping that no one else would want the plot. Of course, that night, we walked over to the Whitehaven Community Garden to check it out, and it was like going to the pound. Don't do it. You'll get attached.

Our hopes were buoyed even further when we got another email message from the garden manager asking for "last call." I thought for sure that meant no one had responded to the first call, but later that day, we found out someone higher on the list beat us to it. 

So, for now, we'll have to be content with what we've got out back. A few containers of tomatoes, peppers, mint, basil, and a blackberry bush. Not bad for first-time urban gardeners but certainly no Plot 9 from Outer Space.

Keep sweeping, Martha

the lady and sons, part deux

Mr. Beeton, Ella, and I just got back from a fabulous trip to Savannah. We headed down south to celebrate the wedding of two of our favorite friends from grad school who, after a long journey, finally found themselves together. 

By the title of this post, you're probably expecting me to write about our delicious butter-filled meal at Lady and Sons, but once again, we didn't make it to the restaurant early enough to garner a reservation for the evening. That's okay, though. We had plenty to keep us busy.

Wednesday night we stayed in Charleston, enjoying some room service and some night swimming. We spent the next morning and early afternoon exploring downtown. Like true tourists, we ate at Bubba Gump (mainly because of their dog-friendly policy). 

Our time in Savannah was, as always, wonderful. I'd been there before we were married for a conference, and later that year, Mr. Beeton and I took a night off from our honeymoon on Jekyll Island to visit these same Savannah friends. This trip, we did some shopping (I brought home a new Marc by Marc Jacobs bow bag - yippee!) and some wandering, but mostly, we ate... thai food, ice cream (for people and dogs), egg sandwiches, and some really, really good grilled scallops at B. Matthew's (where Mr. Beeton accidentally tipped on top of the included gratuity... our waitress must have went home happy...Mr. Beeton, however, did not). 

The food served at the wedding was one of the highlights of the trip as well. The wedding itself was small; the two were married in Whitfield Square, and the reception was held at Garibaldi's.

We knew we were in for a treat when the appetizers were passed around - vegetable spring rolls, chicken pate, fried mushrooms, crab salad in endive. I would have been happy with that, but then the she-crab soup, the house salad, and the crispy flounder (a house specialty) followed. I might go so far as to say it was one of the best meals I've had in a long time. The good company and champagne helped.

By far, however, the treat of the evening was my fun drink - a mango martini! It made me all warm and fuzzy inside, and seeing a happy bride and groom take off in a pedi-cab at the end of the night didn't hurt either.

Congrats and best wishes to k&d! Hope you're having fun in Belize.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched He's Just Not That Into You.

founding farmers

This summer, my librarian partner and I have been using a project we've been working on as an excuse to eat out. Yesterday, we tried Founding Farmers, a place I've been dying to try for a while now. Founding Farmers has a mission - natural food, green design - and I was anxious to see if it lived up to the hype that I'd been hearing. 

Not only was the building design impressive (it did, in fact, feel like you were walking into a "very cool farmhouse"), but the food that I had was awesome. An Arnold Palmer, chicken pot pie, and campfire smores pudding for dessert. My only regret was that it was one o'clock in the afternoon. I really wanted to try some of the innovative cocktails that were listed.

The only other excitement around here was the party we attended this past weekend for my number one niece! Happy Birthday to Baby M!

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched What Just Happened?, a lot of bad reality television (Bachelorette, I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Outta Here, Real Housewives of New Jersey), and am in the middle of Weeds: Season 4.

animal, vegetable, miracle

click three times

Vacation does not really produce many "homekeeping" moments, I've noticed. When you're far from home, you can't cook, clean, and garden in the way that you would if you were. Vacation is all about eating out, shopping, and visiting with family and friends. A good vacation doesn't involve tearing apart someone's kitchen to make yourself scrambled eggs or ripping out their hydrangeas so that you can grow some tomato plants.

Mr. Beeton, Ella, and I have been on vacation, traveling first to Pennsylvania and then spending Saturday night in Virginia with Mr. Beeton's parents to celebrate his mom's 60th birthday with a sixties-themed party. The entire week was filled with fun though not particularly filled with "homekeeping" moments (though I'd love to get and post the recipe for some delicious cheese puffs stuffed with olives that Mr. Beeton's aunt made).

Perhaps the farthest we strayed from home was in our visit to the Sands in Bethlehem - the casino built on the South Side of Bethlehem, which used to house the massive steel plants. After a bit of a battle with city residents, the Sands was finally built at 77 Sands Boulevard in Bethlehem (though locals will know that Sands Boulevard is a fictional street... it's really off 412, near Fourth Street and the Minsi Trail Bridge). 

When I first heard talk of the plans, I didn't really know how I felt. My brother, his wife, and their baby girl live near Atlantic City, and I've heard first-hand the potential problems that might come with slots in the Christmas City. Yet, I didn't really feel like this would be the city's downfall. Not being much of a gambler myself, I also didn't feel as though this was the next best thing to Musikfest. The Sands had to prove itself.

My family decided to venture down on Friday night. They were curious to see for themselves, make their own judgments. My Pop-Pop had worked for Bethlehem Steel, so like many residents, we felt like we had a vested interest in whatever went up in those abandoned plants.

And, I can't say we were disappointed. As cheesy as casinos are (and cannot avoid being), the architects at the Sands did a great job of retaining the integrity of the building. You drive right under a steel structure as you enter the grounds, which firmly cements the contemporary building in the history of the city. Inside, too, the designers went to great lengths to connect the casino to what came before. In particular, there were orange and reds lights hanging artfully from the ceiling, reminiscent of molten steel. 

While none of us came away big winners (my dad won $6.50), it was definitely worth going. And, besides, a fancy casino is about the furthest thing away from our D.C. railroad apartment so being couldn't have felt more like a vacation.

Keep sweeping, Martha 

Watched Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

holiday

Memorial Day Weekend...thai lettuce wraps, raw oysters with peppar vodka, and shared hamburgers. Tonight, we'll have falafel-coated shrimp. 

Happy Holiday!

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Star Trek and Gone Baby Gone.

the marriage agreement

In this house, we have an equal division of domestic labor; in part, because Mr. Beeton enjoys cooking just as much (if not more) than me. Last night, he came home from campus with a bag of mussels and three potatoes. I was a little skeptical at first... I'd never tried making french fries at home. But he did good, using a fry-cutter that my sister had bought him a while back. We had a nice, Belgium-themed meal - mussels and pommes de terres frites!

Keep sweeping, Martha

cake love

Yesterday was my 35th birthday! Hard to believe... especially since I still feel - in most social situations - like I'm in my early twenties (if not teens). 

Mr. Beeton and I had a terrific birthday weekend. It started on Friday with dinner at the Greek Festival at the Saint Sophia Greek Orthodox Church on Massachusetts Avenue. Delicious gyros and baklava. Mr. Beeton and The Chemist even managed to sneak away to put a candle on the baklava. A rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday" followed, and I made the first of three birthday wishes.

Saturday, we headed to Tysons for a free birthday entree at Gordon Biersch. I was hoping to spend some money on self-selected birthday gifts but came home empty handed. Mr. Beeton, however, had one more birthday gift to obtain, and he found what he was looking for. He also carried the gift around, tauntingly, for the entire evening... I wouldn't find out what exactly he purchased until Sunday night - the night of my actual birthday, May 17th.

Mr. Beeton had planned a birthday dinner at an undisclosed location for the day of. I had guessed we were going to Founding Farmers since I've become more than a little obsessed with Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Mr. Beeton likes to tease me about it, so I figured he'd opt for this restaurant. Instead, he chose Sei - which Washington Post writer Tom Sietsema reviewed this past April:

"Unlike a lot of places, Sei rewards those who bite at the invitation. It won't be cheap, but a drink from the bar of this bold Asian statement in Penn Quarter demonstrates how far Washington has come from the days of chocolate martinis and cosmopolitans. The cocktails here taste as if they were whipped up in the kitchen, with the flavors of the food in mind. Fresh and spiriting, the libations also perfectly capture the mood and style of Sei (pronounced 'say'), a sibling to nearby Oya." - http://www.washingtonpost.com/gog/restaurants/sei,1155087.html 

The ambiance was fantastic, and the place was nearly empty - probably because it was a Sunday night. Mr. Beeton and I absolutely love sushi, and we had the most delicious meal. Here's what we ordered for those who are interested:

• To start, Asian Pear Sangria for me and a Liquid Wasabi for Mr. Beeton (he also had a Silver Samurai later in honor of a particularly funny encounter with shochu we had had as graduate students in Delaware).
  
• We then had wasabi guacamole for an appetizer with wonton chips.
  
• We gorged ourselves on sushi, ordering a spicy tuna roll, a crispy shrimp roll, a toro aburi nigiri, a hamachi olive nigiri, a drunken shrimp nigiri, two orders of salmon sashimi, and an order of tuna sashimi.
  
• And, I almost forgot - Miso Orange Bread Pudding for desert, with a candle.

But the icing on the actual cake was the cake. Turns out Mr. Beeton went to Cake Love when we were at Tysons. That's what he was carrying around all night... a chocolate cake with lime frosting - my favorite! In fact, it's almost lunch... I think I'll cut myself another piece.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading Precious by Sandra Novack. Watched Celebrity.

crunchy like...

I'm celebrating almost, almost being done with the semester with a cleaning spree and some granola. I've finished up with nearly all of my grades (hooray!), and I realized that I needed some time away from the computer, attacking the dust monsters for both my own sanity and the sake of my home. At the end of the day, the kitchen looks fabulous; the laundry is done; and I've got some homemade granola in the oven.

The granola that I'm making is a variation on a recipe that I found at 101 Cookbooks - a favorite food blog of mine. Originally, I had intended to make the recipe posted on Angel Food: Cooking Cheap Without Sacrifice. The blogger is a former Hound; we both graduated from Moravian College and ran in the same literary circles. She found me on Facebook (or I found her... I don't remember which), and we reconnected. I have to say that reading her status updates are sometimes the highlight of my day. She's funny and smart, and I've been wondering why we weren't better friends in undergrad. Her recipe is fantastic, too. I can tell by reading it. But, it requires a bit too much work for this hour. It's late, and I'm tired. So, I pared down the 101 Cookbooks recipe instead.

Here's what I did... 

• I took rolled oats, almonds, and sesame seeds, and I mixed them all together in a big white bowl that was my Nana's. 
  
• Then, I took about a third of a cup of honey, and I mixed it with 2 1/1 tablespoons of vegetable oil. I heated it up in the Le Creuset cookware that my mother-in-law gave to us by way of her neighbor who needed to update her cookware to match her new kitchen color scheme. Lucky us.
  
• I mixed this honey mixture with the dry mixture. I put it in a baking dish, set the oven to 300 degrees, and am stirring occasionally.
  
• My plan now - once it's all cooked - is to combine the heated mixture with some golden raisins and some very tart dried cranberries from Whole Foods.
  

I'm hoping that this recipe turns out better than the last one that I tried from the same site. The Cakes of the Mondays was not successful the first or second time that I attempted it. The granola, however, seems more difficult to mess up... hopefully.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Made of Honor.

 

may madness

May, so far, has been madness. Stacks of papers, sick dogs, rain, disappearing students who have magically reappeared, rain, last minute birthday parties which conflict with previous plans, more rain, and just general, all-around grumpiness.

In fact, things have been so bad that I resorted to making crumble last night - a dish reserved only for the special-est of occasions. To be exact, we had quite a delicious dinner - cider-glazed salmon, asparagus with ginger, and apple, strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry crumble. I think we hoped all the good cheer would bring the sun out. The salmon came from Molly Wizenberg's book A Homemade Life, which, if I haven't already raved about, I should. The crumble is a variation on a Martha Stewart recipe - though not a very creative variation. Her Apple-Blueberry Crisp calls for apples and blueberries; I used the four fruits listed above, topping it off with the crumble. Martha calls for 1 cup flour, 1/2 sugar, and 1 stick of butter to make the crumble, and it does the trick everytime. And the asparagus with ginger. You'll have to ask Mr. Beeton for the recipe for that one. But I suspect he stole it from Alice Waters.

And speaking of Mr. Beeton, it's his birthday today! We're headed to 1789 tonight to celebrate.

Keep sweeping, Martha

dust monsters

Ever heard of dust bunnies? Well, we've got dust monsters. They are huge, and they are growing under every piece of furniture in our apartment - the telephone table, the record player, the tea cart. It's disgusting. I want to get rid of them... I honestly do, but I don't have the time. I'm working my way through a stack of papers. And, when I'm done, that's when I'll go head-to-head with the dusty monsters.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.

delicious

Let me confess. This weekend did not start out so well. It's the end of the semester, so I've got research projects to grade and source packets to sift through. Plus, I allowed myself to be convinced by a colleague that allowing students to do an optional rewrite of one of their earlier papers was a good idea. "Hardly anyone ever takes me up on it," she claimed. "But it's a great way to help students feel as though they have some control over their final grade." 

I had 22 students take me up on the offer. So... 41 research projects + 22 rewrites + 41 final papers = unhappy Mrs. Beeton.

There were some tears on Saturday morning. But, the sunshine melted them away as well as a stern scolding from Mr. Beeton. ("If you spent half as much time working as you do crying and complaining about work, then, maybe then, you'd make some progress." He's right.) So, I sorted through the source packets of one class and then allowed myself a long walk in the sunshine.

Mr. Beeton and I headed to Georgetown. We had some errands to run, and I wanted to show him the famed line at Georgetown Cupcake. They didn't disappoint. The line was almost around the block, filled with Georgetown students and young tourists who all seemed to think MTV's next reality show was being filmed in the District. After stops at H&M for a quick return, Kiehl's, and Aveda, we decided to stop in at Christ Opportunity shop on Wisconsin and then over to Dolcezza for ice cream. It tastes as good as the photograph on the homepage and was declared, "The best date place in D.C." by a Park Slope-dwelling buddy of ours from graduate school. We each got two flavors and shared.

Then, we decided that, since the weather was so nice (and there really isn't anything quite like that first, true Spring day) that we would plant some herbs out back and grill. Mr. Beeton decided on tandoori chicken with tabouleh salad. I decided on lemonade mojitos. When we returned to our apartment, we dug in the dirt, planting cilantro and a boysenberry bush (we already have mint), grilled up our chicken, and relaxed in the hammock. Our lemonade mojitos even gave us enough energy to head down Wisconsin with our friend, The Chemist. It was a perfect night to sit out at Breadsoda and enjoy sherbet.

Summer's just around the corner, my friends.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Lemonade Mojitos

• Crush some fresh mint in the bottom of a pint glass. 
  
• Cut a lime in quarters. 
  
• Squeeze the juice of two lime quarters in the glass. Throw in the lime quarters for good measure.
  
• Add ice. 
  
• Fill the pint class a quarter of the way full with Captain Morgan's spiced rum.
  
• Fill the rest of the glass with lemonade. 
  

Tandoori Chicken Kebabs (Skewers Optional)

Compliments of the special grilling issues of Everyday Foods (July/August 2004)

Note: Mr. Beeton can recall several other tandoori chicken recipes which he has tried. He claims this one is the best.

• Martha Stewart says, "In a blender, puree 2 tablespoons of lime juice, 4 cloves of garlic, 1 piece of ginger, and 2 jalapeno chiles. Add 1 cup of plain yogurt, and blend until smooth."
  
• We say, "Pour your puree in a glass pan. Dunk your chicken pieces in and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Grill and enjoy.

the incredible edible

When I was little, my Nana would make soft-boiled eggs over toast. I loved those eggs... in part because they were delicious - salty and gooey - and in part because they were a favorite of my cousin, Jill, who I wanted to be just like. In fact, before long, they became known as Jill's eggs. Only this weekend, when I was home for Easter, did I remember to ask my mom what they were really called so that I could try to reproduce them on my own. I found a recipe online, but I'm not sure that it will produce eggs exactly like my Nana made. But, it's worth the try. 

Watched Easter Parade and Inside Man.

P.S. - I survived my solo trip to New Orleans. Enjoyed walking around the French market and almost buying a Chanel purse at Saks. Sad to report, though, that I didn't venture out for any local food. I stuck with room service instead.

nola

The happy homekeeper is leaving home tomorrow. I'm headed to the National Popular Culture Conference in New Orleans to present a paper on food blogging.  Specifically, I'll be talking about the work of Julie Powell, Molly Wizenberg, and Shauna James Ahern. I secretly want to eat at the Commander's Palace, but I don't know if I'll have the nerve since I'll be flying solo. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

gifts from 1912

fuji

For some people, a robin marks the first sign of spring. Others go strictly by the calendar or the weather. This year, I'm judging by the farmers market.

Finally, after a long winter, the farmers market at Foggy Bottom opened. I'd been waiting all winter for this Wednesday delight. I was so eager that I arrived at 2 pm before they even opened (official start time was 2:30 pm). Beets, apples, tiny tomatoes, radishes, and apricot jam! I walked away with a bag full of delicious food. And, when I arrived home, I treated myself to a bagel with butter, apricot jam, and goat cheese. Mmmmm. 

This weekend, the cherry blossom festival will mark the start of spring for those of us living in DC. Mr. Beeton and I are hoping to get down for the street festival on Saturday.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Been watching Big Love.

cakes of the mondays

Wouldn't it be great if every Monday could start with a cake? We're going to start our week with this salt-kissed buttermilk cake. 

Keep sweeping,

Martha

Watched Rachel Getting Married.

* Update: Mondays wouldn't be great if I had to eat the cake I baked. I thought I'd improvise and change out some ingredients, mainly the flour. DID NOT WORK. We've got something that looks nothing like the beautiful picture on 101 Cookbooks.

pink elephants

Our week of spring break has not produced much home cooking other than our first evening with spanakopita. We have, however, done a little spring cleaning, purchasing some much needed items from Target to organize our back room. What we have done a lot of is eating out. And I mean a lot. Lunch, dinner, you name it. We figured since our trip to Cleveland was cancelled we'd use our "saved" money for dinner.

Last night, we went with a work colleague to Brasserie Beck for a beer tasting. I'm not exactly a beer drinker anyway, but if I have to, I'll drink a lambic. I've posted the menus here. As you can see, there were NINE (!) different beers served (plus a bonus beer and bonus whiskey at the close of the evening). Pink elephants were waiting for us when we got home.

Keep sweeping, Martha

spring break '09

Saturday marked the first official day of spring break '09. While Mr. Beeton's students are off in Cancun and mine are in New Mexico, working with the Navajo Nation on alternative spring break, Mr. Beeton and I celebrated by cooking some good food and catching up on a stack of movies from Netflix. We had planned a trip to Cleveland to visit a friend from college, but he called on Thursday night with the news that he had to attend a shotgun wedding in Cincinnati. And with that call, our "staycation" began.

We had some leftover filo dough from Ella's birthday party. I had intended, that night, to make tiny taco tarts. But, we ran out of time, so since then, the filo dough has been sitting in the refridgerator. I thought I might try my hand at spanakopita, so we walked down to Whole Foods in pursuit of the fillings. I also wanted to try a beet salad with goat cheese because I'd just finished reading A Homemade Life and it made me want to eat goat cheese. 

We didn't get home until about 7:30 pm, and to top it off, we forgot the spinach. But other than that one small issue (easily rectified by Mr. Beeton who drove out to Safeway), the meal was surprisingly easy to make. And delicious. A great way to start off a staycation. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

* Note: The Happy Homekeeper is not my first attempt at blogging; it's just my best attempt. On a previous blog I kept, I recorded all the books I read and all the movies I watched. I was reading the blog the other day to see if I could "mine" it for anything, and I remembered this small detail. So, I'll re-start that tradition here. 

Finished reading Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life. Watched The Wackness and Benji.

moonsault

I went two out of three with a red velvet cake this weekend. 

A few years ago, the New York Times had a spread on red velvet cake, and at the time, I cut the recipe out and pasted it in a book, hoping to make it someday. The first time I tried it, I didn't have enough red food coloring. The second time, I lost my nerve. So, this time, I was bound and determined not to let it get the best of me.

Friday night, we planned our attack. But we found more pressing concerns (i.e. we chickened out). So, when Saturday morning came, we had no choice but to dig in. After all, the party for Ella was Saturday night, and we were headed to a tour of the National Portrait Gallery that afternoon. That left only the morning for baking. 

Red velvet cake is not easy, especially if you're not a baker. Which I'm not. Mr. Beeton is the more precise one, given his background as a scientist. But, I thought it turned out well. It certainly was pretty. 

The guests, however, did not appreciate all our hard work (though Ella did... we have an adorable picture of her with red crumbs all over her snout). In fact, one guest commented, "I love the icing." Um, that was store bought.

We did have two successful items at the party, however. One was white sangria, and the other was chili lime tequila popcorn.  Both were delicious. And neither required practicing any sleeper holds prior to prepartion. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

you know you love me

We're having a white party. Gossip Girl style. For Ella. Our dog.

Now, if you don't have a dog or if you have a dog that you treat like a pet, you might think this post is a little strange. My sister probably will. She doesn't understand the deep love that I have for Ella. Or that Ella has for me. That's why she gets grossed out when we share ice cream. Or lollipops.

But, I love my dog - in a kind of crazy way. I admit.

You see, I wanted a dog my whole entire life. More than anything. Each Christmas, I would ask Santa for a puppy, and I would never get one. Well, one Christmas I did. It was a stuffed dog with a note - Santa couldn't bring a real one, but he thought you might like this one instead. I did love Spunky. I wasn't coldhearted.  But what I really wanted was a real dog.

When I was little, I remember my parents taking me to a birthday party for the dog of one of their friends.  The dog's name was Mudslide Slim, and he hid under the table the whole party. But, the party was fabulous. And, I remember thinking, "I want a dog to love like that." Now, I have one. And, she's the best.

I didn't get Ella, though, until I was 28 years old. I had a bad break-up, and I thought, "What the heck am I waiting for?" And, I went to the nearest breeder to pick out a puppy. I would have gone to the pound, but my roommate at the time claimed she was allergic (she claimed a lot of things... that she was monogamous... that she was religious... that she wasn't a liar... but that's another story). So, I had to find a hypo-allergenic dog, and the best of the bunch, I thought, was a Westie. As luck would have it, there was a breeder in Bear, Delaware by Lums Pond. In retrospect, he was a little slow and probably had in his garage what Oprah would classify as a puppy mill, but it all worked out, so I try not to dwell.

I reserved Ella, who was trapped in a pen with a very aggressive Cairn terrier. When I came in, she looked at me with eyes that said, "Please, please save me. Look at him," gesturing to the Cairn, "he's out of control." A few days later and several hundred dollars poorer (thank goodness for Stafford Loans), Ella came home with me.

She has such personality. Of her own. And that I've created. For her first birthday, we had a blowout at our little house in George Read Village that used to belong to W.D. Snodgrass. It felt like the entire city of Newark was there. There was a cake, some singing, and a lot of drinking.

Last year, we started the tradition again. Mr. Beeton and I had gotten married in the fall, and we wanted to have our mish-mosh of friends that we'd acquired to our apartment. We threw a Super Sweet Six party, MTV style - chocolate cupcakes with lime icing and super delicious beer and tequila punch. 

So, this year, to celebrate Ella's seventh birthday, we're having a white party. She's white; we'll be wearing white; and we'll be serving white sangria. Right now, I should be planning the menu, but instead, I'm blogging about the craziest little dog in the world who's sleeping, right now, at my feet.

Keep sweeping, Martha