You can never have too many

…little black dresses, hugs, Reese’s peanut butter cups, laughs, or deviled egg recipes.

Or deviled eggs, for that matter.

Or could you? Actually you probably could and I probably have, on all of the above. Except little black dresses.

But that one last laugh may be the one that busts your gut, or something. Never happened to me but I’m just saying…

Ok, the food. It has been a work-y work-y summer but if I were just chillin’ at BBQ’s (we shall not call them “‘ques”) I’d bring these then be the annoying guest wanting to borrow the friggin’ oven, mid-summer, to toast the crumbs on top of these. A warm, crumbed, deviled egg sounds weird but it’s a bloody revolution.

Not terrible leftover and cold, either.

Horseradish Deviled Eggs adapted from the May 2013 Bon Appetit
3 hard-boiled eggs, cut in half, discard or use one yolk for something else, put other two in a small bowl
2 heaping Tbsp. mayo
1 1/2 tsp. prepared horseradish
1/4 tsp. white wine vinegar
1/2 tsp. Dijon mustard
Pinch of kosher salt
1/2 slice fresh wheat bread, turned into fine crumbs
Olive oil spray
Turn on the broiler. Mix yolks, mayo, horseradish, vinegar, mustard, and salt. Use to stuff whites. Sprinkle bread crumbs over and spritz with olive oil spray. Broil only until crumbs brown, around 2 minutes. Eat hot but they are good chilled too!

Get naked

And be a hot tamale.

A naked one.

These poor tamales lost their britches.

And by britches I mean corn husks.

Don’t we all?

But deep down we all know what matters is on the inside of our britches.

Meow!

My insides are full of spicy things, y’all.

Actually, I am going to be vulnerable and emotionally naked here for a minute. 2013 has been marvelously exciting and full of progress, but all that advancement did not seem to be leading anywhere. For all my auditions on the lot that got my hopes up came the realization that I didn’t get those jobs. For all baller improv shows with my new group, I still have plenty of times I royally flounder and I wonder what the heckums makes me think I should be on stage.

I hadn’t heard from my editors with a restaurant review assignment.

I found out the bionic arm needs surgery against due to a slipped plate. Taking care of that one in a few weeks before my tendon ruptures.
Life, schmife.

Then in one fell swoop I book work I can’t yet tell you about, get another writing assignment, my improv group earns double the stage time we were getting at the Neon Venus…I feel prettyyyyyyyyy!

Though my bionic wrist still hurts like a mofo. You can’t win em’ all.

But you can make love without your britches, which is Ellen-ese for make tamales without husks.

Just do it. Get naked and do it.

Naked Tamales with Chili Cheese Filling
Olive oil spray
1/4 cup chopped onion
Pinch sugar
1 Jarred roasted red bell pepper, chopped
2 Tbsp. canned diced green chiles
Salt
Freshly ground pepper
1/2 c. Masa Harina
2 Tbsp. frozen smart balance or butter (I was out of butter so I used balance. “Out of butter” is an affliction I hope to never have again)
1/2-3/4 c. Vegetable broth
1/4 tsp. baking powder
Pinch salt
1 oz. cheese, shredded
Cilantro and salsa, to serve
Spray a skillet with olive oil spray. Cook onion, stirring, on medium heat until it starts to brown, add sugar and cook, stirring, until a bit more browned, then add peppers, chiles, salt and pepper and cook a couple minutes longer, stirring. Take off heat.
Put yer masa in the food processor, turn it on then drizzle in broth, then add smart balance (or butterrrrrrrr!), baking powder and salt and pulse. Add more liquid if needed to get a thick batter.
Spray a couple ramekins with non-sticky spray. Fill a third full with batter, then cheese, then add filling, then add the rest of the batter. Cover ramekins with foil, put in a pan. Fill pan with water halfway up the sides of ramekins. Put it all in a 400 degree oven for 30-45 minutes. Depends on your oven. Keep an eye. When masa is pulling away from the ramekin sides it should be decent.
Eat. Be naked. Not at the same time.

STL I <3 U

TOTES forgive me for, like, my cray use of stuff like <3's, but I just luv my hometown-you can find a beginner’s guide to my fave StL places here.
But I also went to new places this time and the new places convinced me of one thang.
I luv StL even mo because it is ON the craft cocktail thang.
2 many ccktls explain y I’ve devolved 2 so many abbr. words.

Okay, time lapse, I am better now. Bear with me and this post, for there is a drink for you at the end of the road.

And for Kelly, well, I don’t have anything for you, but I promise if you are ever at my house I’ll make the mocktail of your dreams.
After chilling with my parents and some corn in the cob, I started the partay-ing segment of Friday night at Basso, a new gastropub. In true St. Louis fashion it took all of five minutes for me to run into a ghost from the past. The creator of the “Philharmic” drink, Phil, and I worked at a restaurant together when I was in college. I had been in the mood for wine but the cocktail list was too dang interesting. Why have grapes when you could get a Criminale, made with bourbon, pistachio, pear, lemon and cinnamon? Between the three of us we sampled quite a few things. Almost all of them were a bit more sweet than I’d have liked, but were still tasty, if not quite balanced. That is balanced for those of us with bitter tastes in beverages.
I managed to avoid getting into the booze all day Saturday, which began by heading to The St. Louis Art Museum which is magically amazing and free.

The SLAM has an Ahhhh-mazing new modern wing that was opening that very day. Again, in StL fashion I bumped into another old ghost, my high school art teacher who now works at the museum and was a part of the creation of the new wing. Ahhhh, Rothko:

I began to reminisce about how my high school had neither a football team nor cheerleaders, but a killer chess team and my father informed me that St. Louis is actually considered the chess capital if the world.

The more you know.

After SLAM we traversed Forest Park aka one of the top ten urban parks in the world to the zoo (also free) to see the new sea lion exhibit. Such cute sea kittens.

Back home it was Clue-playing time with the rentz. I am always Miss Scarlett. Don’t even TRY to be her, she’s mine. I do get bossy sometimes. Seeing as I am queen.

I lost the game.

On with cocktails! One of my most highly anticipated activities was a date with my fwife (definition here) at Taste by Niche where I wanted to try every single one of Ted Kilgore’s cocktails. Taste is getting quite known, and rightfully so. Eleonor learned what Cynar was and I learned to pronounce it. Chee-NAHR. Not SIGH-nar.
Whoops-a-daisy.

Lemme tell you. I need to figure out the Old Flame. My beverage (please pronounce that bev-ehr-RAUGE in your head) included cognac, rye, cocchi rose, dolin dry, solerno blood orange, and absinthe. I had to look up some of those. I would need to buy most of those. But it might just be worth it. It was enough, more cocktails there and I’d have been under the bar, and I wanted my wits about me to enjoy my fwife night.

And yet after some pizaa dinner at the solid Central Table Food Hall, ince back at home we decides to continue the cocktail madness and I raided my parents’ liqueur supply to make a dessert drink. Actually, my mom had requested I make something to use up the vanilla vodka in the freezer so I HAD to oblige.

The recipe awaits your thirsty tongue at the end of this post.

We also made chocolate chip cookies (actually I ate the dough, Eleanor went for the cookies). From the only recipe you really need.

Like, in life. For-evah.

Sunday day included the best damn cup of coffee in the world with my fwife and two of my best damn friends in the world. Meshuggah I have been faithful to you since the wee coffee-swilling age of 13, and I always will, at least when I visit St. Louis.

Next up, a movie with the rents’. I thoroughly endorse Whedon’s version of Much Ado. Much fun.

More Clue. I love that game. Lost one, won one.

Dinner and more cocktail madness came with Andrew, another of the best friends in St. Louis (I have about 3, plus the fwife, I hope that is ok-I realize it is several “bests” but it doesn’t seem too excessive). Andrew is also the fearless leader if the taiko group I used to play with. I miss being in the band.

On with the cocktail madness. Sanctuaria had an out of this world program. I can’t even begin to discuss the merits if the Manhanzerac and all the other delights we drank. Come to think of it, the Old Flame I drank at Taste had elements of a Manhattan-Sazerac mash-up, but also mashed with an Old Pal. I need to figure out my own perfect mash-up of said beverages.

And I want to go back to Sanctuaria. And I want the book. Matt Seiter done good.

Whilst you await my own Manhattan-erac-a’-pal, please accept a very sweet beverage.

FWIFE-NIGHT (makes two. duh.)
1 oz. vanilla vodka
1 oz. Kahlua
1 oz. clear creme de cacao
1/2 oz. amaretto
1 oz. half and half
8 raspberries
orange twist
Add everything but 4 raspberries and the orange peel to a mixing glass. Muddle the berries then add ice and stir the shit out of it. Strain into dainty cups. Float raspberries. Run peel around rim, twist, and drop in. These are very sweet, pretty, SMALL drinks. Probably the way that super-sweet dessert drinks should be.
I hear-tell recently that you shouldn’t drop the citrus peel in the drink unless it is one of those classics like a horse’s neck and the spiral peel is important. But I like a peel in my drink, dammit. And the orange of the peel next to the deep red raspberries is so becoming.