Comfort Foods and Indulgences

My first Brie Quesadilla was devoured somewhere in Arizona, and it is truly an indulgence that is impossible to resist.  Since I love cheese, I use Brie with the rind intact, but if you like a smoother taste, I recommend Alouette Crème de Brie spreadable cheese- either the original or fine herbs style.

If you are making a grilled Brie sandwich, sour dough bread is perfect, if you making quesadillas use corn tortillas.

I'm not sure who first decided to smoke an oyster or why, but it sure was a good idea. The texture of a smoked oyster is nothing like a raw oyster. It's firm yet still creamy, sweet and addictive to eat as candy.

The little ones that come in the can are often used as appetizers. Despite being labeled "colossal" they are anything but. They taste a bit like the oil they are packed in. While the canned ones are ok, they are impossible to go back to after eating fresh ones from the Pacific Northwest.

Recently I agreed to judge a contest and received a shipment of deluxe seafood to help me "prepare." I got two fresh steamed crabs, shrimp, smoked salmon and the most plump, sweet smoked oysters I had ever tried. While I had no problem coming up with ideas for using all of the other seafood, I was a bit stumped by the oysters.

Do you ever get the Sunday night blues? You know, that feeling of disappointment that the weekend is over and Monday morning looms like a dark cloud?

It happens to me sometimes. And when I feel this way, I usually crave something comforting. This past Sunday it was rice pudding--the quintessential comfort food. That's because it's warm, creamy, and unabashedly carb-y. These are the good carbs though, the ones that make you feel like you're receiving a hug from your mom.

Even if you don't get the Sunday night blues, everyone needs a little comfort now and again. And rice pudding leaves you feeling good every time.

Recently I had a tryst with an old flame. No, ‘old flame’ is not quite right. You see, I’ve mindlessly used him many times over the years--even recently--meeting him most often in dark movie houses. On rare, more daring occasions we met in my bedroom, on nights when I admit I much more anticipated my latest Netflix delivery or guilty-pleasure TV show. He was always a second thought; an accompaniment; a reliable, cheap snack I held back from enjoying fully, lest I spoil the more respectable dinner waiting for me at home.

But this night was different. I was alone. . .insatiable, yet I longed for something more substantial, more fulfilling. . .more memorable. Suddenly, and for the first time, I saw him in a new light. The idea seemed so silly given our past dealings, that I needed some kind of sanity check before making the call. I did what one does when faced with such a crisis. I grabbed my phone, and desperately tweeted:

No one did (talk me out of it), but when shortly thereafter I received an inquisitive tweet from none other than the brilliant Amy Ephron (“What does homemade mean?”, “Did you grow and dry the corn, or do you just mean ‘not microwaved’?”, “Recipe, please?”), I knew I was on to something, and that there was no turning back.