The Danny/Gwyneth Project

When I awoke yesterday morning, my throat was on fire. Great, so now I’m sick. (Or, as roommate Danny B. suggested, I may be allergic to pasta. If anyone were to develop a pasta-specific allergy, it would probably occur after the kind of nonsense I went through on Sunday.) I’ve also completed another recipe, but I spent yesterday afternoon on the couch like an invalid instead of actually writing anything, so you will have to wait until tomorrow to hear what I made. It’s just a dessert, so don’t get your hopes up for anything wild.

Roommate Lindsey made a fantastic Martha Stewart shrimp/coconut/noodle soup last night, and she did it in about 20 minutes, and it was exactly what I needed when I wasn’t feeling well. Martha will always trump Gwyneth, this I know for sure.

In the meantime, dear Gwyneth is reportedly going to be on the cover of Bon Appetit magazine. Well done, Gwyneth! Finally, some publicity.

I’m also currently weighing my options for obtaining duck confit. Gwyneth suggests ordering from D’Artagnan, but 6 pieces will run me $45, which is nausea-inducing. I’m pretty sure I know of at least one really good butcher’s shop in Portland that offers duck confit, so I’ll have to give them a call and shop around. I’m also going to be needing at least two or three more whole duck carcasses, so I may as well get friendly with my local duck butchers.

There’s also the option of attempting to make my own duck confit, which would be hilarious and probably turn out awful. Who knows if I’m crazy enough to try it.

As for today, I’m just going to drink a lot of tea.

Yesterday was one of those perfect spring afternoons in Portland. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and every bar and restaurant was overflowing onto the sidewalks with beautiful hipsters. It was one of those days where, when your cousin texts and asks if you want to go out for drinks, dinner turns into hastily made mac and cheese, which you wolf down before walking to the nearest bar, where you enjoy mason jars filled with the some of the most delicious mixed drinks in Portland (I’m talking about Swift Lounge, Portlanders, and you’re missing out if you haven’t been).

So, definitely not an evening for Gwyneth-inspired dishes. I am, however, researching butchers and fishmongers, to try to figure out where I can get the best possible deals and products. I’m warily eying a couple of the more frightening recipes, as I feel I should try to tackle one of them soon, to give myself some confidence. Not sure if I’m ready to stab a lobster in the face yet, though. Or shell out $100 for one home-cooked meal. Ugh.

In other news, I have, with the aid of a few cardboard boxes, transformed my office desk into a standing desk. Because what’s the point of eating healthily and exercising all the time if you’re going to spend 8 hours a day with your big ass held up by a chair? The cardboard boxes and lack of a chair may make me look like a homeless lunatic (or possibly an eccentric genius? Let’s go with that one), but standing all day makes me feel less like a worthless office slob and more like an accomplished hero. I’m standing on my feet all day! Just like nurses, or firefighters! Plus, it lets me walk around the office like an entitled jerk, which is what I always dreamed I’d grow up to become. I can’t say one way or another if this trend of being as healthy as possible (please ignore what I said earlier about the mac and cheese and mason jars full of alcohol) can be entirely attributed to Gwyneth’s influence, but I’d like to think she’s partly responsible.

Is this post coming across as smug and self-absorbed as I suspect it is? It feels like I just wrote an issue of GOOP. Maybe I should start publishing DOOP.

Well, my plans for dinner last night fell apart. Mainly because a dreary morning had somehow, in the nine hours I spent crammed in a corner cubicle, transformed into a perfect afternoon. And I decided I didn’t really want to spend hours in the kitchen, and would much rather be outside, biking, playing tennis, and just getting generally sunburned. This is Portland, people, and we have to take sunny days when we get ’em.

So the sun means you get nothing interesting from me today. I’m contemplating tackling one of the harder dishes this weekend, though, so stay tuned. Loyal readers WILL be rewarded. Much to my chagrin.

Additionally, the sun has once again disappeared, and today is miserable. So, there will be cooking tonight. Nothing too complicated, because we are having people over tonight and I don’t want to still be cooking when they arrive. (Plus, I want to eat before they arrive, so I don’t have to feed everyone. This may not be in tune with the Gwyneth way, but some of us aren’t billionaires.)

On a semi-related note, I recently purchased Fuschia Dunlop’s Land of Plenty, and I’m dying to try out some of her recipes. Cooking only Gwyneth food recently — and for the foreseeable future — I’m going to be having mostly European-influenced cuisine. But I’m a sucker for Asian food, and I can feel some undeniable cravings beginning. I also have a Japanese cookbook I’ve been wanting to experiment with, and would love to try out this easy recipe for dashi I found.

I may cheat on Gwyneth.

I’ve decided to do my best at updating regularly, even though I won’t be cooking every day. (Not even close, in fact: There are probably less than 40 main dishes in the entire book, and I’ve got nine months in which to do them. Deal with it!) But it’ll be nice to check in with you all from time to time, right? I may do some cooking tonight, but no promises. I’ve almost knocked out all of the easiest recipes, so now things get interesting, and insanely expensive. I’m going to be buying a LOT of duck, lobster, and clams in the near future, and I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to afford any of it. I’ll have to space them out as much as possible. Maybe I’ll set aside a portion of each paycheck every two weeks, for my “lobster budget” or whatever. Ugh, what have I become?

I’ve also got some ideas brewing for the blog. Maybe I’ll take up side jobs to afford all this crap and will document my adventures in babysitting or whatever. Maybe I’ll start a spin-off blog, “Confessions of a Call Girl”-style, and will become a high-class prostitute who gets paid in foie gras. We’ll see. Continue reading →