A few months back I noticed a new spice store in the neighborhood. Seeing as how "the neighborhood" I speak of is one Silver Lake Junction, a mish mash of fun but ofttimes expensive stores catering to the tragically hip and excessively moneyed, I'd all but avoided the spice shop, save for the two times I attempted a pop-in in while in the neighborhood and found it closed both times.
But one sunny Saturday morning recently, I found myself at the new cafe next door to the spice store for brunch (a little place called Forage...which was delicious, but see the aforementioned tragically hip and excessively moneyed comment above) and lo and behold, Spice Station was open! So we walked down a charming little outdoor corridor, following the signs to the back patio, and found a airy, deliciously aroma-ed little store that I'd like to someday use as my home-decor muse. 
The dude working the front counter couldn't have been more helpful, and explained the whole buying process once we told him it was our first visit. Dozens and dozens of interesting spices and flavored sugars lined the walls, with little jars out for visitors to sniff and sample. Alie and I wandered around in awe, opening jars and oohing and aahing over the varieties.
They also had gift sets, like the salt set that is definitely going on my birthday wish list next year. Alie ended up buying some loose tea, which they carry in excessive varieties, while I walked away with three little bags of exciting stuff.
ghost pepper salt, toasted coconut sugar, and aged balsamic salt
As soon as I left the store I started plotting the meal I would make utilizing my purchases (which were not at all as expensive as I had imagined). For the balsamic salt, I halved a pound of brussel sprouts and tossed them with cubes of butternut squash and chopped kale. That was mixed with olive oil, fresh ground black pepper, and about two teaspoons (probably a little more) of the salt.
The whole concoction went on a sheet pan, which I sprinkled with even more salt, and into the oven at 350 for about 45 minutes. Once the veggies were nice and caramelized, I tossed them with balsamic vinegar and Parmesan cheese. Holy crap it was good.
I left the hot pepper salt (the Ghost Pepper being the hottest pepper on the planet and me being a big pansy when it comes to spicy stuff) in the capable hands of Colin. He squeezed the juice of two limes, chopped about an inch of fresh ginger, and splash of olive oil and put that over low heat. Next he added about a teaspoon of the ghost pepper salt and gave it a minute on the heat to mingle. He then poured the mixture atop some cooked shrimp, which were skewered and wrapped in tin foil to marinate.
Then he grilled that shit, because he is in love with his grill and will not pass up an opportunity to cook something on his grill. Note: I am perfectly okay with this, as got-dayum, food tastes so much better when cooked on a nice grill.
For the toasted coconut sugar, the very first thing that popped into my head was: CREME BRULEE. And yes, it was in all caps because I just get that excited about creme brulee. Have you ever made it? It's deceivingly simple to prepare, although it does require some patience, a few extra dirty dishes, and a couple more steps than a simple dessert usually would. But my god it's worth it.
After making the coconut custard itself and refrigerating the little ramekins for a few hours, I sprinkled more coconut sugar than the recipe called for because I am Georgia and sugar is my favorite vice. 
My motto has always [just now] been "why use a creme brulee torch when your best friend has a blow torch she's willing to let you borrow in exchange for a ramekin of delicious, delicious creme brulee?"
The meal was a complete success, with every dish yummier than the next. I can't wait to hit up the spice store again and fill my spice rack with new and exciting flavors. Maybe I'll even make it a weekly thing, and start reoccurring Spice Mondays posts. Hell, I've already used the leftover spices and sugar in pretty much everything I've cooked since. Wee!
Have you guys heard of this thing called "Fallen Fruit"? It's something of a movement all over the country where people map their neighborhoods based on fruit trees. You see, at least here in LA, if there's a fruit tree in someones back yard, it's illegal to trespass and pick the ripe fruit from the tree. But! If there's a branch hanging over the gate, say, and a ripe piece of fruit just sittin all lovely and exposed and not technically on said fruit tree owner's property, well than that piece of fruit is yours to pick!
It was on that principal that Colin and I, along with his trusty dog Mona, decided to explore our new neighborhood, which is located along the quiet back streets of Silver Lake. It ended up being a really fun long walk, and it was a great way to explore and get a feel for the neighborhood, one which you normally miss when whizzing past the scenery in a car. 
Our adventure started on a down note when I spotted a very ripe, very NOT available fig, that was about to go bad just past the owner's property mark. Figs...holy fuck I am obsessed with figs. It broke my heart to see this pretty little guy all gussied up and ready to eat, but just out of my reach. What's a law abiding, play-fair girl to do??? Walk away and just pretend she never saw it, right?
Well, technically "yes", that's exactly what you're supposed to do. But what can I say? I'm weak when it comes to the siren song of a ripe fig. Read on though, ye who denounce such thievery, as that was the only piece of fruit I snatched in such a treacherous manner that day.
A good thing to have with you when venturing out on such a walk, is a fruit picker. Failing that, then a tall partner in crime is a good companion. Here is my such partner in all his 6'3 glory plucking from an overladen peach tree (alas, the peaches weren't yet ripe).
If the object of your desire, in this case some luscious looking oranges, aren't reachable even by your tall companion, leaping may just solve the problem. 
If all that fails, simply climb onto your partner's already sore shoulders and happily pluck away. Before the letters of complaint regarding cruelty come in: don't worry, we gave the poor stranger who just happened to be passing a piece of fruit for her photo-taking troubles. 
We found a ton of yummy things to eat that day, and a lot of trees that will be ripe in the next month or so. 
The furry one in our party (no, not Colin) made some friends, then growled and bared their fangs at her new friend's tiny hands, so was quickly lead away because she can't play nice.
Above all, we were respectful of the fruit we found and the kind people we were taking it from. That's really what this movement is all about, you guys. I'm being serious! Stop laughing! It's about respect for local and sustaina...oh fuck it. Who'm I kidding? 
We came home with an awesome bounty, most of which is rotting in my kitchen as I type this. What can I say? Good intentions count for a lot in my life, and I've got good intentions coming out my ears.
Starving after our walk, I quickly put together this yummy sandwich of toasted olive bread, Swiss cheese, and artichoke spread (all from the Echo Park farmer's market), a big green tomato that we found on our walk, and torn basil from our garden (side note: OMG I have a garden!!!). It was so yummy, and we felt like good people because we didn't buy any of it from evil big box stores.
We paired it with this lovely bottle of wine, which we found during our walk on an illusive Pinot Grigio tree. We'll be visiting that tree again, for sure.We're already planning our next foraging adventure, and a "fallen fruit" sangria to celebrate. Find out more about Fallen Fruit here.
Tell me, have you ever done anything like this? It was so much fun, and I highly recommended it.
I'm in the middle of writing a full post, but for the time-being, please check out this podcast Alie and I were guests on. The podcast, hosted by my hilarious friends Ned Hepburn and Eric Martin, is called This American Wife and I'm a huge fan of it.
The night of the taping, we talked and talked and drank for two plus hours on air. I can't tell you how glad they left out some of the more "blue" and "embarrassing" bits. Click here to listen to our episode
(which is, in my humble opinion, hilarious). And be sure to subscribe to the podcast on iTunes.
I'm kind of a dick, huh? Leaving ya'll hanging with that last simple post without a word for, what, two weeks? I'm really sorry about that, but it's been overwhelming even thinking about writing the details of that Friday night. I want to get back to day to day blogging, but I know I can't do that without filling you in on the deets, so here they are.
.....
We were moving in together on Saturday morning, ya see, and so we had planned to go on our last date as a not-living-together couple on Friday night. He had been planning that date for the past month or so, and I was looking forward to it. It was a cute idea: a "first date redux". You see, on our first date, the fancy French restaurant he had wanted to take me to was closed that evening, so in an effort to make things right, we'd go back there and have our proper first date.
As I got ready for the date, donning a cute dress I hadn't yet worn around him, sexy smoky eyes and a couple fake lashes for dramatic effect, I thought to myself...what if? Hell, we'd been talking about wanting to marry each other pretty much since we met. We talked about rings, discussed what we both wanted in a wedding (small, very DIY), and glossed over smaller details.
I imagined how he'd ask me as I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror, then quickly pushed it out of my head and admonished myself for getting my hopes up so stupidly. He was nervous when he picked me up, though. His mouth was dry and he was being even more of a dork than usual (adorably, of course).
He swiped an (real) eyelash from where it had fallen on my cheek and instructed me to make a wish, "make it a good one" he commanded. Then I did something I almost never do: I made a specific wish, instead of a vague wish for a happy life or something, like I usually do. It was a wish that I had no way of knowing would actually come true that night, and was actually in the works for the last month, if not longer.
We drove to the restaurant, my hopes being dashed a bit as his nerves seemed to subside, and we ate an amazing meal and talked happily over dinner about our plans and excitement about living together. "Can I tell you something?" I coyly asked over dessert. "I was hoping you'd have proposed tonight...I know it's so dumb! It was just something that was on my mind."
He apologized profusely while we walked back to the car, and gave me a million excuses as to why it wasn't the right time. Meanwhile, my best friend, who had been in-the-know since he bought the ring on my birthday some two weeks prior, was lighting the candles as per his detailed instructions back at our new house.
"I have a surprise for you," he told me as he threw a tie at me from where he sat in the driver's seat of his car, and instructed me to blindfold myself. He hung a right and started up the hill towards our new house. I giggled excitedly as he told me that he had re-done the bedroom closet I had so detested - the one thing in the new house that I wasn't totally charmed with.
It didn't even cross my mind that this was a ploy or a ruse. Not for a second. So excited by the new closet, I barely noticed the heat from the lit candles as he led me blindly into the bedroom and placed me in front of the closet.
"Okay, you can look," he said in a shaky voice from behind me. I took the tie off, and...my god...I can't even describe that moment properly.
I stared at the sign hanging in the same old closet and then slowly turned around to take in the scene. Forty two candles (my favorite number: the answer to the meaning of life according to Douglas Adams) and more red roses than I could even imagine. And then he dipped onto his knee and held up his hand for me to take.
I'm glad he did that, because I was frozen in place, already starting to cry, with my other hand over my mouth that was agape with surprise.
What he said, how he asked, is between myself and him, but I said "yes", of course. How could I not? He is the most wonderful man I've ever met. He makes me feel amazing and beautiful and wonderful, and every day I wonder how the fuck I got so lucky. I can't believe this is my life. I can't believe I've won this prize. I can't believe I get to marry him.
.....I'm laying in bed right now, in that same room where he bent on his knee and told me all the things I had hoped my entire life someone would feel about me, but secretly never truly thought I would find. I've been staring in awe at the ring (a beautiful vintage thing that is everything I never knew I wanted in an engagement ring) every day and I really just can't get over it all. "This is my life," I have to keep reminding myself. I love, love, love that this is my life.
The dude working the front counter couldn't have been more helpful, and explained the whole buying process once we told him it was our first visit. Dozens and dozens of interesting spices and flavored sugars lined the walls, with little jars out for visitors to sniff and sample. Alie and I wandered around in awe, opening jars and oohing and aahing over the varieties.
They also had gift sets, like the salt set that is definitely going on my birthday wish list next year. Alie ended up buying some loose tea, which they carry in excessive varieties, while I walked away with three little bags of exciting stuff.
ghost pepper salt, toasted coconut sugar, and aged balsamic salt
As soon as I left the store I started plotting the meal I would make utilizing my purchases (which were not at all as expensive as I had imagined). For the balsamic salt, I halved a pound of brussel sprouts and tossed them with cubes of butternut squash and chopped kale. That was mixed with olive oil, fresh ground black pepper, and about two teaspoons (probably a little more) of the salt.
The whole concoction went on a sheet pan, which I sprinkled with even more salt, and into the oven at 350 for about 45 minutes. Once the veggies were nice and caramelized, I tossed them with balsamic vinegar and Parmesan cheese. Holy crap it was good.
I left the hot pepper salt (the Ghost Pepper being the hottest pepper on the planet and me being a big pansy when it comes to spicy stuff) in the capable hands of Colin. He squeezed the juice of two limes, chopped about an inch of fresh ginger, and splash of olive oil and put that over low heat. Next he added about a teaspoon of the ghost pepper salt and gave it a minute on the heat to mingle. He then poured the mixture atop some cooked shrimp, which were skewered and wrapped in tin foil to marinate.
Then he grilled that shit, because he is in love with his grill and will not pass up an opportunity to cook something on his grill. Note: I am perfectly okay with this, as got-dayum, food tastes so much better when cooked on a nice grill.
For the toasted coconut sugar, the very first thing that popped into my head was: CREME BRULEE. And yes, it was in all caps because I just get that excited about creme brulee. Have you ever made it? It's deceivingly simple to prepare, although it does require some patience, a few extra dirty dishes, and a couple more steps than a simple dessert usually would. But my god it's worth it.
After making the coconut custard itself and refrigerating the little ramekins for a few hours, I sprinkled more coconut sugar than the recipe called for because I am Georgia and sugar is my favorite vice. 
My motto has always [just now] been "why use a creme brulee torch when your best friend has a blow torch she's willing to let you borrow in exchange for a ramekin of delicious, delicious creme brulee?"
The meal was a complete success, with every dish yummier than the next. I can't wait to hit up the spice store again and fill my spice rack with new and exciting flavors. Maybe I'll even make it a weekly thing, and start reoccurring Spice Mondays posts. Hell, I've already used the leftover spices and sugar in pretty much everything I've cooked since. Wee!
