C is for Chocolate

Chocolate—oh how I love thee. I also have a sweet spot for dogs as well. Anyone who’s ever owned a dog knows that these two luvs do not mix!

While living in Siena, I had the great pleasure of getting a true sense of the culture by living in a home stay. My “Italian Mother,” Anna Bellacini, cooked divine Tuscan meals with a side of Pecorino Romano every night. I was not allowed to touch anything in the kitchen or clean dishes—ever. That being said, my personal collection of decadent chocolate treats was tucked away in my bedroom.

Everything changed when Anna’s 12-year old dog, Colle, discovered my secret stash. I came home from school only to find bits of chocolate wrappers scattered about. Did I Colle survive? Thankfully, yes! Colle lived to see another day and I ate a little less chocolate thanks to her keen sense of smell.

It’s Almost Turkey Time!

I’ve always wanted to cook a whole turkey for Thanksgiving. Year after year I ask my mom for a cooking lesson and yet again I get ill from just looking at this prickly white beast. I can’t stomach the sight off it raw and vulnerable. Just this last year, I learned that they even give you the neck. Seriously? Gross.

Recently I decided that since I’m officially a full-fledged adult that I needed to overcome this raw bird fear and cook, you’ll never believe, a whole chicken. I consulted with my mom while I was at Safeway and she suggested buying a pair of gloves so that I wouldn’t have to touch the poor, naked bird.

Picture: yellow rubber gloves up to my elbows. Eyes closed. I was instructed to extract all the miscellaneous extra parts—gizzards and such. I couldn’t even look (another reason why I decided against becoming a doctor) as I put the yellow glove inside.  I held it over the garbage can and just shook it to death. Gizzards no more!  The rest was a piece of cake– olive oil, rosemary, onions, carrots and potatoes all in toe. For me this was truly a right of passage, and a meal to remember.

My first adventure in baking…

My first experience with baking began with my trusty “Easy Bake” Oven.  Cleverly designed to look like a microwave, only a 100 watt light bulb is the sole source of heat. Brilliant. My father was never a fan of cheaply designed plastic toys and scoffed, “why don’t you use the real oven?” His comment actually makes perfect sense now.  But back to my story, I made maybe half a dozen cakes with this light bulb powered oven.  When I was totally disenchanted with the art of baking in my teens, we sold my plastic oven at a garage sale. The funny part was, we sold it to a man who mistakenly thought it was actually a microwave. He was not amused, but his daughter was happy.  You’ll have to check out this link to get a laugh: http://smartcanucks.ca/wp-content/uploads/2006/10/easy-bake-oven.jpg