I mean, I literally lost her. In San Antonio. I couldn’t find her for an hour and a half.

John’s parents are staying with us for the week. They don’t live in Texas. They’ve been here before and know our area a bit, but they don’t live here. She and I had gone to pick up John’s car from the dealership. We drove there together, she let me out, I got John’s car, and we got on the service road to go to my house. We weren’t far from the house, and I thought she was only a couple cars behind me.

But then I got home, and she wasn’t there. After a few minutes, I called her. No answer. She didn’t have her phone. But if she’d been following me, she shouldn’t have been more than a few minutes behind me, even if there was traffic or she got stuck at a light. Time crept on. I waited in the driveway, watching the cars go by. She wasn’t in any of those cars.

After 20 minutes, I decided to try to find her if I could. I didn’t know if she had any money, or if she knew how to get home. I didn’t know if she knew enough about where we lived to ask anyone how to get home again.

So I drove for about an hour, checking gas stations for the car, looking for accidents or cars pulled off the road. I was in an absolute panic, thinking that I’d let this happen. Thinking that she could be hurt, or gotten into an accident, or be crazy lost. I kept driving, because I needed to do something to try to help, and it was all I could think to do.

Finally, my father-in-law called. She’d found her way home, after being lost. I breathed a sigh of relief. I called John to let him know. I drove back home and hugged my mother-in-law.

And then I had many glasses of wine.

All this leads me to believe that having children is going to turn me into a walking panic attack. John called me last night, and I had to tell him, “I can’t talk now, I lost your mother!”

I’m telling you this story to explain one of my greatest fears when I think about having children: That I will literally die from a panic attack.

I freak out about a lot of things. I can’t help thinking of the worst. The planner in me kicks in, it starts considering scenarios and what I would do. I start to thinking, I need to look up the hospitals and start calling them. I should look to see if she took her wallet. I should drive down all the side streets and see if she’s there. If she doesn’t come back in another hour, where should we look? Should I call the police department and see if anything’s been reported?

I can’t help it, my mind goes to the worst things and starts planning. In many ways, this is a bad thing because I usually get worked up over nothing. It’s usually fine. Just because John isn’t answering his phone doesn’t mean he’s in trouble – it probably means his phone died.

Someday, I will probably get better about this. It’s useless to worry about everything that crosses your path. I know that. But I can’t help myself from freaking out.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say or ask right now, but I wanted to share that with you.

People say to me, constantly, “Lauren, you are a cosmopolitan gal-about-town. What are your rules for LIFE and LIVING?”

And to these people I say, “Stop speaking to me, minions! Peel me some grapes!”

No, of course I don’t say that, because no one has ever called me a gal-about-town. Probably because that’s not a thing.

But I have flown on an airplane many times, and I have some tips for travel for you, based on my keen observations. Lo:

• We all know you’re going to sleep on the plane, but try not to dress like it. Look, I know. It’s a long flight. It’s a great time to get some rest. But it’s really weird to see someone wearing uggs, sweatpants, a ratty T-shirt, and a sparkly purse. It’s a combo that does not work.
• Conversely, if you’re old, wear and do anything you want. This is an unspoken rule for life, actually. I saw an elderly man eating, and he had on a baseball cap that said “Won’t stand 4 SHIT.” Well played, sir.
• Don’t look at people when you eavesdrop! Cmon, we all want to catch up on Real Housewives: Airport, but remember not to look at people when you eavesdrop. If you look away, not only will they not know you’re eavesdropping, it will be easier to hear things, because your ear will be facing them. How else would I find out that in Air Force basic training, they make you do push ups on your birthday? Great thing to know!
• Stop being shocked about TSA rules. Look, we all hate emptying our pockets and taking our shoes off to go through the detectors. We all hate getting patted down and not being able to bring drinks. It’s ridiculous. But stop acting like it’s a surprise. We all know it’s going to happen.
• Don’t be so possessive of the overhead bin space. In an ideal world, we’d all be able to put our luggage right above our seats. But we don’t live in an ideal world, do we? We live in a world where bacon has a lot of calories, and the Kardashians are a thing. So don’t get all mad when someone puts their luggage in your so-called luggage space. We don’t have individual luggage spaces overhead, so get over it.
• Speaking of eavesdropping, remember that we can all hear you. Like, all of us. I can hear you, girl on your cell phone. I can hear you, beleaguered mother in front of me. I can hear you, teenager going to basic training. I can hear all of you. And I will write about you on my blog. Someone you don’t know and will never see again will write about you on her blog. If that doesn’t shut you up on a cross-country flight, nothing will.
• Be classy. Not klassy. Some people think it’s classy to wear a denim cap and sunglasses on an airplane. Actually, it’s klassy, as in a Kardashian would do it. It is klassy because no one who is classy would do it, on an airplane or anywhere.
• For the love of cookies, try not to fart so much. I’m guilty of this one too. I’m mildly lactose intolerant, but forget this fact every 9 minutes. It’s gross, I know. But try not too. We’re all trapped in this metal tube, and the smell has nowhere to go. NOWHERE.

You’re welcome, humans of the world.

And now I’m going to write about some stuff that has nothing to do with food.

So that’s what I’m going to do. Disappear for a while and go off the rails in terms of what I post.

Sound good? Great.

For a very long time, John has wanted to roast a goose. I’ve always pushed back on this, since we’ve never eaten goose, cooked goose, or even seen a goose for sale. John sometimes dreams big and plans things that we can’t execute.

So when he suggested we make goose for dinner club AGAIN, I agreed. As long as we had a plan. The plan was to find a goose, find some recipes, and come up with a theme.

The theme being, Christmas! This is a great meal for the holidays. It’s warm, rich, and savory. The potatoes are pretty easy to make and made more delicious with a generous amount of creme fraiche, whole milk, butter, and chives. The braised cabbage can be made ahead. And the goose? It’s a bit tricky, and takes about 3 hours to cook, but it’s worth it.

We served this with a pinot noir, but Bon Appetit recommends a nice tawny port. I try not to have too much port because it’s easy to overindulge, but sipped slowly, a tawny port would be wonderful with this meal.

Mustard and Garlic Roast Goose

From Bon Appetit

Local foods – Most foodies are also locavores, people who like to eat local food. If your friend is in a different city, send them a delicacy from your area, like a Vermont syrup or Southern grits. Foodies like discovering new foods, and you’ll definitely be on the “nice” list if you help them find something new.

Signed cookbook - It might be too late to get this present done, but there’s still time. In December, there are plenty of food events where chefs come out of the woodwork to sell their beloved cookbooks. Get a copy signed for your friend, and now you’ve got a personalized gift! Also, scour your bookshelves for a signed cookbook you no longer want, and presto! Instant gift!

Cool tea towels and dishcloths – I’m constantly using and washing my dishtowels, which I use in every aspect of cooking. Mine are usually looking pretty worn and dingy, and I could use some pretty, but functional dish towels to spruce up my kitchen.

Small kitchen tools – Zesters, microplanes, measuring cups, citrus reamers, tiny whisks – foodies need all of these things, but usually only have one. But when you’re baking four pies, you don’t want to have to wash the same tools over and over. Small kitchen tools that can be thrown in a drawer are a godsend in a pinch.

There are lots of other things you could get too, but this should get you started. You’ll see there’s some common threads here – local things that you can’t get anywhere else, interesting things that everyone needs, and tools that need replacing constantly. Oh, and food. We like food too.

Sous vide turkey; cranberry BBQ sauce; two kinds of brussel sprouts; two kinds of stuffing; buttermilk biscuits; celery root, leek and potato gratin

What makes a Thanksgiving? I have lots of Thanksgiving memories. They’re usually coupled with my birthday, November 22, which is usually right around Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that’s a requirement, but pretty low key. It’s like a warm-up for December, when things get stressful and complicated. I confess, I’m not always the jolliest at Christmas. Between trying to figure out when we’ll see our various families and when, to buying presents, to the actual travel, to being in cold places (with snow! I’m not made for that weather), it’s stressful. I’m already kind of anxious about it.

But Thanksgiving is none of that. The most stressful part is the cooking, which does stress me out, but in a way I can usually handle.

Like all Thanksgivings, ours was late. Literally. To make sure our families could all be there, we celebrated on Friday instead of Thursday. So it was a day late. And we first said we’d serve at 2pm. But at 2pm, I finally got the gratin in the oven, and it had to cook for a minimum of 90 minutes. Can you see where this is going?

When we finally did sit down at 4pm, we had plenty of food and plenty of people. We had all of my parents, John’s parents and brother, John’s cousin, and our friends Kate and Sam, who graciously made a sage and sausage stuffing and a cornflake stuffing, bacon brussel sprouts, and gravy. We had lots of wine. We had perfectly cooked turkey, thanks to John’s sous vide machine. We had all the food warm at the same time (amazing!). We had a warm place to eat. We had lively conversation.

Thanksgiving means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it’s an excuse to eat, to cook, to see people you don’t normally see. It’s a time to drink a lot of wine, tell embarrassing stories, learn things about people, and play Catchphrase. Even if you’re not very good at it.

I hope your Thanksgiving was awesome. Mine was.

Before this season started airing, I had such emotions. I heard over the summer when they were here that they were filming. Everyone knew. It was the worst kept secret in Top Chef history. Contestants were spotted at Whole Foods, the Culinary Institute, everywhere. I was almost on an episode.

I’m saying, everyone knew. And it was exciting! Texas was getting a whole season! San Antonio was being recognized as a culinary city!

And then the promos started. Oh the promo

Look, I get it. I’m not stupid. I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. I know that people fall back on horses, steers, cowboy boots and jeans to represent Texas. I know what people think.

But it’s kind of disappointing that, even after coming to Texas and seeing what the state has to offer, they still chose to present Texas that way. It’s so typical, and just kind of deflating.

That was my thought going into the premier. The new format seemed like it would be promising – 29 chefs compete for 16 spots. But the challenges to get there weren’t on level ground, really. Three sets of chefs had different challenges with different time restaurants, proteins, and parameters. Hardly a fair shake. I also found it annoying that they made the chefs introduce themselves, because there’s no point in anyone getting attached to them because 13 of them would be gone by the third episode.

So that didn’t work so well. But I’m glad that one Texas chef made it through – Paul Qui from Uchiko, where John and I had our anniversary dinner earlier this year. He’s the only Texas chef, but if he makes anything half as awesome as the food at Uchiko, he’ll go far.

There’s a lot of speculation about where the Top Chef kitchen was in San Antonio, but everyone’s sure that the house they’re staying in is in Monte Vista.

For those of you who don’t live in Texas probably think it’s pretty hot here. And it is. And they’re going to talk about it A LOT on Top Chef, because they filmed during a 60-day heat streak, where it was over 100 for…ever. It was so hot that you just didn’t go outside at all. Sweating became the norm. Air conditioning was necessary and vital. So you can expect a lot of talk about that.

Other than that, I’m not sure what to expect from this season. I hope they highlight local chefs and restaurants in each city, although part of me kind of doesn’t because then they’ll be harder to get tables at.

Friends, autumn is upon us. Well, not us per se, but maybe you. In San Antonio, temps are still hot and humid, but it’s technically fall, so between fashion magazines pushing sweater dresses and boots, and Starbucks whipping up pumpkin spice and salted caramel lattes, we’re being made to believe that it’s cold outside.

This recipe, more than all the beef stews and root vegetables I’ve roasted in my life, feels like fall. It tastes like fall, like a mug of something hot by a fireplace, dressed in a cozy sweater with a dog snoring nearby.

I first found this recipe through Creature Comfort‘s post on an ice cream filling for Martha Stewart’s pumpkin whoopie pies. I liked the idea of a chai spice filling, but I wanted a filling that wasn’t going to melt. So, I used Martha’s cream cheese filling and added the spices from Creature Comfort.

It was an immediate success! Everyone loves these. The only thing people don’t like is that they want more of them.

This recipe makes 12 whoopie pies, if you make the cookies pretty big, like ice cream scoop big. If you use a tablespoon or regular spoon, you can get 36 whoopie pies from these.

A note: one of the good things about this recipe is that it’s incredibly unhealthy. I mean, there’s a lot of oil and sugar in it. So once you make it, you don’t really want to eat a lot of them, because you know exactly what’s in it. As I’m typing this, there are 12 of them in my kitchen, and I don’t want to eat any of them. F’real.

Pumpkin Spice Whoopie Pies

Ingredients

For the Cream-Cheese Filling

• 3 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons nutmeg
• 1-2 teaspoons cloves
• 1 tablespoon chai concentrate (liquid chai, which you can find in the tea section of your grocery store)

For the Pumpkin Whoopie Cookies

• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
• 1 tablespoon ground ginger
• 1 tablespoon ground cloves
• 2 cups firmly packed dark-brown sugar
• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 3 cups pumpkin puree, chilled
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Article first published as Foods I’m Expected to Like on Technorati.

Enjoy!

As a food blogger, there are certain foods that fellow foodies get hyped up about. I know, because I read a lot of food blogs and you see the same recipes and posts every year: KALE! BEETS! PORK BELLY! RAMPS!

Let’s review them, why people go ape-shit for them, and whether or not I really like them.

Beets. Bloggers and foodies love to nom on some roasted beets. Why people like them: Because they’re delicious, yo. Also nutritious. They’re easy to find and easy to cook. Do I like them? Yes. I like them roasted, skins peeled off, with goat cheese. That’s my favorite way. I love a simple beet salad. I think people are turned off by beets because of canned beets. They’re an unnatural red and taste like boiled dirt. But roasted beets have a great sweetness.

Brussel sprouts. Brussel sprouts get a really bad rap, because apparently all of our mothers made them and we hated it. Why people like them: Because it’s super impressive to convert people to liking Brussel sprouts, even though it’s not very hard to do that. Put some cheese on it, or some pancetta, or some maple syrup. You’ll love it, no matter what it is. Do I like it? Of course! One of my favorite winter sides is sprouts, halved lengthwise, seared cut side down and sprinkled with shredded cheddar. It’s easy and relatively cheap and fast.

Ramps. Ramps are member of the leek family and chefs go CRAZY for them. I don’t know why. They’re only available roughly three days a year. Why people like them: People like to feel superior and say they like ramps, because it means they’ve had ramps. Do I like it? I bought some last year and steamed them. Eh. Nothing to write home about. I should probably have found a recipe so I could cook them properly, but honestly, it’s an onion.

I get that that’s supposed to shame me. But I’m in no way ashamed.

Here’s how I feel: I appreciate quality. And quality comes in so many forms. I appreciate the bean burger at Chris Madrid’s, and I appreciate a 5-course meal at Restaurant Gwendolyn. It’s a matter of atmosphere and expectations and momentary desire and price. Those two restaurants seem so different. But in many ways, they’re the same. They’re both locally owned and operated. They both understand their audience and the prices their audiences are willing to pay. They both have an atmosphere that caters to that audience. They both excel at certain things, so they stick to those things.

That’s what I appreciate: places that know who they are, who I am, what I want, how to give it to me, and they do it well.

So, yeah, when I go out for a dinner, I don’t want to go to the Olive Garden, or Red Lobster, or anyplace where I have to settle for mediocrity. And what’s worse in my opinion, universal mediocrity. Red Lobster is mediocre in every city. Every. City. If I’m going to eat something, I like to at least try a local place, or somewhere I’ve never tried before. Someplace where I might be surprised.

This isn’t’ to say that I never eat at chains. I do. Usually it’s a matter of convenience. I’m in a rush and grab a sandwich at Which Wich. It’s Saturday and I’m craving Chik Fil A. It’s my grandpa’s birthday and he wants to go to the Red Lobster. I’ll eat there if everyone else does, or we’re in a rush.

But if given the choice, I will choose to take a risk, the chance to be surprised by something spectacular. And it is a risk. It could suck. The service could be bad. But I’d rather take that risk than settle for what I know will never be spectacular and will always be merely adequate.

So if you ask me for restaurant recommendations, I will definitely tell you about places I like to eat. If you don’t want expensive places, I won’t recommend them. I’m aware that I tend to spend more on food than most people. I know I take food more seriously than most. I’m the one who clutches my pearls at using jarred minced garlic. I know it. It’s because I care about quality. I spend lots of time and money making my own food, and when I pay someone else to do it for me, I expect good food and appropriate prices. So I most definitely will take your preferences into account when I give you recommendations.

But don’t tell me I’m a food snob because I didn’t mention La Madelaine when you ask for good French restaurants. Don’t tell me I’m a restaurant snob because I’d rather go to some hole in the wall bakery than Subway. And I won’t apologize for that.

I won’t apologize or be ashamed for wanting to take a risk on something that could be great. To be quite frank, I won’t apologize or feel ashamed for giving a shit. It’s part of my job. I blog about it. I get paid to do it.

And if that makes me a snob, so be it.