The Lexingtonienne
  • August5th

    Oh yes I can. And if you like brussels sprouts just okay, I can make you love them.

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    When Sister and I were little (Little Brother came along later), Mama fed us all the delicious vegetables, but none of the yucky ones.

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    Peas, broccoli, zucchini, carrots, corn, and squash were the stars of our dinner table stage. But beets, spinach, and the dreaded brussels sprouts — and any other veggie that has been universally panned by children everywhere — never even got a chance to audition.

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    As a result, I never even tasted a brussels sprout until I was 20.

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    And going against the seeming majority, I liked them.

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    Now I get very excited when I see brussels sprouts on a restaurant menu, and I almost always order them. Especially if there is vinegar, panko, and/or bacon involved.

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    Bacon goes with everything, you know. And Mike bought us this chocolate bar to prove it.

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    Back to the brussies. A few years ago I developed my own way of making brussels sprouts, and seriously, they are so delicious, I have made believers out of brussels sprout naysayers. My grandfather isn’t a brussels sprout fan, but he likes these. And my sister-in-law, Casey, is a lifelong archnemesis of brussels sprouts, but she once ate three servings of these.

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    You know those late-night televangelism shows where some forlorn soul clamors out of a wheelchair and actually walks and all the really smart people watching at home think it’s a big miracle? Well these brussels sprouts are the cruciferous equivalent. (Though unlike televangelist TV stunts, this side dish is the real deal. Now send $300 so I can continue my important mission.)

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    So while I might not have wrapped a taste bud around a brussels sprout till I was in college (seriously, I didn’t even know what they looked like), the kid that’s been swimming around in my stomach like a little goldfish is already getting a crash course. 🙂

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    NON-YUCKY BRUSSELS SPROUTS
    Fresh brussels sprouts*
    5-6 cloves of garlic, peeled and lightly crushed
    Olive oil
    Butter (don’t tell anybody, but have about half a stick ready)
    Italian seasoned breadcrumbs (panko crumbs are also really fantastic for this if you have some — you can buy them Italian seasoned or just add your own Italian herb seasoning)
    Salt & pepper to taste
    Parmesan cheese — grated or shredded (whatever you have) — to taste

    *If you can find the brussels sprouts still on the stalk – buy them!!! They’re super fresh and really good.

    Cut the stumpy nubs (I’m pretty sure that’s the culinary term) off the brussels sprouts and peel off the outer layer of leaves. Slice your sprouts in half, or into quarters if they are extra big (like mine were). Rinse and drain. Get them pretty dry because excess water will cause popping when the brussels sprouts hit the hot oil, which can burn you. Meanwhile, coat a saute pan or skillet with olive oil, add several lightly smashed cloves of garlic, and warm over the lowest possible heat for about 10 minutes or until your entire house smells like garlic. 🙂 You now have garlic-infused olive oil. You can do this step in advance, then turn off the heat and just let the oil and garlic sit there until you are ready. It’s fine if the garlic browns, but don’t let it burn. It gets bitter, and you are what you eat.

    Fish out most of the garlic cloves — maybe leaving one or two of the largest cloves in the pan — then turn your heat up to high. When the pan is hot, add about a tablespoon of butter, let it melt, then add your brussels sprouts. Salt & pepper to your liking. Don’t be afraid to let the brussies sit in the pan for a couple of minutes before you stir them around. You want them to brown up and caramelize a bit. Brussels sprouts are naturally a bit bitter, and this caramelization takes some of that off. Stir, adding more butter or oil as your pan gets dry, and allow the sprouts to get nice and brown. It’s okay if some of the looser leaves burn a little — this makes the dish crispy and extra delicious!

    When the sprouts look nice and brown, push them to the sides of the pan, creating a hole in the middle. Throw another pat of butter into that, let it melt, and pour some bread crumbs over top. Use your stirring spoon or spatula to mix the bread crumbs into the melted butter, allowing the bread crumbs to toast a little bit. Then stir in thoroughly with your sprouts. You can repeat this step if you want more bread crumbs. Remove from heat, then sprinkle with parmesan cheese.

    Also, Hubs wanted you to see the chicken breasts he grilled. He does grill marks like a pro. *Golf claps*

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    Cake soon. Promise.

    xoxo,
    Hannah

    P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COLLEEN!

  • August4th

    As Mike and I look back on our Italy trip, we continue to marvel at all the wonderful things Italy has to offer.

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    There are the mind-blowing ancient monuments…

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    The fabulous cuisine…

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    The beautiful inhabitants…

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    A seemingly endless collection of the world’s most impressive artistic works…

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    Really great shopping.

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    Yes, it’s really hard to choose just one thing and say, “That was my favorite.”

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    Arrivederci, Italia…
    Hannah

  • August3rd

    Happy not Monday! We are back in L.A. after 24 hours of traveling to get home (which, oddly enough, wasn’t as bad as it sounds). And there is MORE I want to tell you about Florence.

    But FIRST… you must tune in TONIGHT to One Big Happy Family on TLC at 10 pm ET/PT to watch the Coles family continue their weight loss adventure. (Hubba Bubba is Executive Producer so look for his credit!) And speaking of weight loss adventures (har har)…

    Back to Florence. My friend Mark Marinaccio, who is really smart and funny and cool (Hi, Mark) left a comment on the blog the other day telling us to check out www.tasteflorence.com. We did, and we signed up for a tour the next day. Let me tell you something. If you ever go to Florence and you love food, you must do this tour. The tour company is run by an American woman who lives in Florence and wanted to show tourists the way that Italians really eat. It’s not hard to see that the Italians don’t flock to the touristy spots so readily available along the main thoroughfares; it is hard, however, to figure out where they do go. Taste Florence tells you. They keep it small, allowing only 9 people per tour. We got extra lucky and it was just the two of us, one other couple, and the tour guide.

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    Our first stop was a little store called Forno (which is Italian for “oven”) where we sampled schiacciate ripiene, which is basically a flat piece of bread stuffed with something delicious — in our case, cheese and ham. Since I am unafraid to sound like a total redneck, I would liken it to the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had. We quickly realized that this tour was no joke.

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    Next we headed to a fabulous little bakery…

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    … where we sampled these delights:
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    I am really bad, y’all. I can’t remember what they were called, but they were ah-mazing. Filled with custard and surrounded with the loveliest, crunchy puff pastry, each bite does this nice little dance on your palate before melting away. Toni, the genius who started Taste Florence, will be reading this blog entry… Toni, maybe you can leave a comment and tell us what these are called?

    And then we took a little walk down the block till we got here.

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    This is the market where real live Italians do their shopping.

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    I’m pretty sure it’s the inspiration for Reading Terminal Market, for all you Philadelphians. Here we sampled some boiled beef that was fabulous.

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    We had a choice between beef or tripe (which is cow’s stomach lining). How I wish I were one of those brave souls who enjoy offal. But… I chose beef. And it was fantastic. Then we visited the gentleman who sells the beef. Here is his marketing sign:

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    Basically it translates to, “Eating boiled beef makes for good sex.” You should see his business card. I took a photo of it, but since my mother reads this, I won’t show it. 🙂

    We continued to wind around the market…

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    … until we arrived at Conti, where they sell beautiful produce.

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    Conti is where we did a balsamic vinegar tasting and an olive oil tasting, which was super fun and very informative. Kentuckians, you can liken balsamic vinegar to bourbon: strict stipulations define it, there are wooden barrels involved, and when you get the REAL stuff, it’s delicious.

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    Our tour guide also threw a few other delectable morsels our way — including these cheese samples paired with various condiments, ranging from the sweet (pear) to the savory (onion) — and some artichoke spread and tomato truffle spread.

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    That Tuscan bread you see hosting the olive oil and the spreads is totally unsalted, btw. Back in the day, salt became so expensive, the Tuscans gave it the finger and decided to make their bread without salt. That’s just how they roll.

    Then we rolled over to a gelateria called Perche No! (“Why not!”) that remained opened throughout World War II, when ingredients were hard to come by, especially for a non-essential such as gelato. We only got to sample 8 different kinds of gelato, so Mike and I went back later for more. Obvi.

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    Our final stop on the tour (sniff sniff) was this snazzy little wine shop.

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    Here our guide taught us that Prosecco whets the appetite by making you salivate (which is why restaurants like to give you a complimentary glass when you walk in the door), while drier reds do the opposite and pair nicely with meats. We learned a lot more too… all about the laws that have been passed to guarantee various wines, why older generations look down their noses at chianti, and that Italian wines are not named by grape varietal (as in California) or by region (as in France). It’s a little bit more loosey goosey. Anyway, it was FUN, and our guide had this nifty little device:

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    It aerates the wine and pours out a perfect tasting amount. I want one.

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    And of course there was more food. Bruschetta in the foreground, and fennel salami in the background.

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    After four hours of continuous tasting, the fabulous Taste Florence tour was concluded. Our guide patiently answered all of our questions (both relevant and random), and graciously offered to make us dinner reservations at a recommended restaurant. Seriously, if you are ever in Florence, sign up for this! I should add that there was no bartering involved here. We paid full-price for the tour and were so glad we went!

    Many thanks to Toni, who started Taste Florence, and Christine, our tour guide.

    I’m getting back in the kitchen soon, I promise. And I’m thinking about cake…

    xoxo,
    Hannah

  • July30th

    No, we are not about to roll up on Skyline Chili while admiring the red and white water tower (but that’s a good feeling too). We are in Firenze!

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    Here’s the difference between Florence and Rome. First, the views are better.

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    The people are still really beautiful, but they are much nicer than the Romans. Florence is cleaner than Rome, and the shopping is way better. And so is the gelato. And Michelangelo’s David (sigh) lives here. Is it possible to be in love with a man who is 500 years old, 15 feet tall, and made of marble? Apparently, it is. Anyway, here is the view from our hotel window:

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    Yesterday morning we did an historic tour of Florence, where we saw my aforementioned boyfriend (you’re not allowed to take his photo though) and the Duomo.

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    Afterwards we got caught in a torrential downpour with huge thunder and lightning. Apparently when the power goes out in Florence, a big alarm sounds through the city, in case the power going out wasn’t enough to let you know that the power has gone out.

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    Hubba Bubba and I ducked into a cafe for shelter, where I noticed that my hair looked literally like a bird’s nest. Magnifico! Then we made a run for it (because, of course, as you might guess, our umbrellas were tucked safely into our suitcases in the hotel room at the time), and hovered in the foyer of an apartment building for a while.

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    Later in the day it cleared up, and we trekked over to the Basilica di Santa Croce, where Galileo and Michelangelo are both buried. Here’s Michelangelo. He completed David while in his mid-twenties before moving along to paint the Sistine Chapel, but he lived to be 89. Talk about peaking early.

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    We also discovered this garment worn by St. Francis of Assisi. Italy is so full of these sorts of unassuming surprises! I would have expected a giant Vegas-style billboard: “STEP RIGHT UP! GARMENT WORN BY ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI IN HERE, FOLKS!” But instead it just kind of quietly sits there while you almost walk by it. It makes me wonder how many amazing things we have walked right by.

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    But there is one thing we certainly did NOT miss. It was right in our hotel room:

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    The Italians don’t live in big spaces, nor do they provide you with much in your hotel room. Our room in Rome barely provided enough space to walk around the bed. They did, however, find space for a bidet, and so did our hotel in Florence.

    Mike and I giggled. Stood over it. Studied it. Didn’t touch it. Googled instructions as to its use. Giggled some more. Avoided it. Last night I was reading in bed when Mike strutted out of the bathroom, looking proud as a peach. “What are you grinning about?” I demanded.

    “I just cleansed my intimates,” he announced, with the gusto of a man who has just gotten a raise or learned he is descended from the Habsburgs. “I feel like a new man.”

    “You used the butt washer?” I jumped out of bed to investigate the evidence in the bathroom. “How?

    He explained that you stand over it and angle the nozzle however it suits you. The hotel kindly provides some soap and linens. Sure enough, the bidet was wet like a sink that someone has just washed their hands in, and one of the neat little linen towels was lying in a crinkly pile on the floor. “I feel like a new man!” he continued to proclaim.

    I have to hand it to the guy for trying new things and liking them. Tonight at dinner he ordered the goat and quite enjoyed it. He was on a bit of a high because — after he was repeatedly mistaken in Rome for a native Spanish-speaker — a man today asked him if he was Italian! We had stopped in a highlyecommended pizza place for a slice (stools and a counter type of place), when we noticed that the guy next to Mike seemed to be speaking Italian to no one in particular. Finally in English he said to Mike, “Are you Italian?” It turns out he was talking to Mike the whole time; we just had no idea. Anyway, Mike was pretty excited. I don’t blame him. 🙂

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    But speaking of new experiences, I can’t wait to tell you about our Taste Florence tour — fantastic! I will probably be back in the US of A when you hear from me again. Tomorrow we travel by train back to Rome, then get up very early Sunday morning to fly to Heathrow, then to LA for a delightful 22 straight hours of traveling. Whew!

    So have a great weekend, and I will talk to you on Monday!

    Ciao bella,
    Hannah