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

g. peterson

Last night, Mr. Beeton and I headed up the street to the best pizza joint in D.C. - 2Amys. Mr. Beeton was on edge because I was taking my sweet time getting ready. You see, 2 Amy's gets really, really crowded on the weekend, and he was hungry and didn't want to wait in line. But, I was using the power of positive thinking... and I didn't want to be rushed. I was trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. 

We arrived a little after 7 pm, and the wait was an hour. Mr. Beeton was not pleased, but I love 2Amys. I knew the wait would be worth it. Plus, there was no way we were waiting an hour. I bet 30 minutes at most. Sure enough. I was right. We hung out right by the door while others in front of us went to hang out at the bar. When a prime table opened right in front of the window, I knew that for speed's sake the hostess was going to seat us there. We were easy to find, in close proximity. I was right.

Our dinner was delicious and so was the bottle of wine that we split (Librandi, yum). We had appetizers - eggplant and ricotta and salmon and goat cheese crostini. We followed it up with a delicious salad, which we split, and two pizzas - the Norcia and the Puttanesca. Mr. Beeton wanted to order caramel ice cream for dessert, but they had run out. Our waiter recommended the pineapple ice cream instead; I didn't believe it would be good, but he assured me I'd like it. It was delicious. And, he didn't even charge us for our dessert. What a night!

Of course, Mr. Beeton thought we got comp'd because I was declaring I was Gordon Peterson's daughter.  Gordon is a local news anchor who we saw the last time we were at 2Amys, so I had suggested that I pretend to be his daughter so that we get seated quicker. Once that happened and we got free dessert, Mr. Beeton was certain that someone overheard me. Sometimes, I guess, it pays to pretend.

Keep sweeping, Martha