So APPARENTLY the SuperBowl happened recently. Yes, I do live in San Francisco, but no, I couldn’t tell you who we played against. Boyfriend suggested we put it on to watch the commercials, and in spite of my remonstrations, he stole the remote and flipped it on. We watched about 3 minutes until I felt my soul dying, when I proposed we DVR it and fast forward through the game. After 2 commercials, he gladly gave in and agreed to watch “Mankind: The Story of All of Us” and learn about Vikings, the Silk Road, and Easter Island. Clearly, we’re suckers for The History Channel. Annndddd apparently this is what it’s like to be a geek.
I like to pretend I’m a sophisticated world traveler, so naturally I’m on Conde Nast Traveler’s mailing list. I like to imagine my private suite on the world’s most luxurious plane en route to a treehouse hotel in Sweden. A reliable source of information about rich, WASPy people’s pastimes and peregrinations, Conde Nast Traveler informed me this week that falconry is making a comeback. No, that wasn’t a typo. FALCONRY. You should stop reading right now if you’re part of this falconry resurgence or, better yet, hit me up because I have MANY questions.
Not that “roughing it” is ever really my style (let’s be real - I camp in a tent in our spare bedroom), but sometimes a girl just needs a day of pure, blissful indulgence (a DOI, if you will). And today was just that. We just got a brand new mini electric heater, which I’ve already assumed as my new beau (Boyfriend doesn’t appreciate my dementor-like ability to suck all the heat from him). I also enjoyed a wonderful massage from a real masseuse (and not just one of Boyfriend’s 1.25 minute one-handed distracted massages while he reads The New Yorker) and as a bonus, I got to smell like lavender all day. I folded laundry while listening to my favorite cheesy girl music from the 90’s (three words - Ace. Of. Base.), caught up on Grey’s Anatomy, and made myself a perfect turkey bacon, egg, and cheese on a perfectly chewy bagel.
It’s been a lovely, rainy weekend, which makes for a good excuse to bake something warm and delicious. And with Thanksgiving just a few days away and Christmas decorations already up on the street, an even better excuse for baking and singing along to obnoxiously loud Christmas music. I’m FULL OF holiday spirit. Boyfriend tried to stage his own small-scale intervention, refusing to wash dishes if I played any more Christmas music. I’m living with a veritable Scrooge. (When he told me he couldn’t bear to listen to Madonna’s “Santa Baby,” I knew there was no hope for those dishes. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.)
Fact: I’m a pumpkin fanatic. It’s true. I’m the crazy lady who stockpiles giant cans of pumpkin year-round. In my book, pumpkin knows no season. But now that it’s fall, a more socially-acceptable season to embrace that sensational squash, I feel no shame in baking anything and everything with pumpkin. I’ve tried a few pumpkin “cupcake” recipes but, IMHO, a cupcake is not a cupcake without butter. Needless to say, I was very excited when I came across this recipe for Pumpkin Brown Butter Cupcakes in Martha Stewart’s cupcake book. Martha did not disappoint. These cupcakes are fluffy and perfect and full of rich, pumpkin-y goodness. Don’t blame me if these turn you into a crazy pumpkin-hoarder like me.
If you’ve ever been to Mama’s in San Francisco, you know how damn good a Monte Cristo sandwich can be. You also know how long it can take to get it (this morning’s wait was a measly hour and a half). SO rather than have to shower and drive across the city to wait in line in the cold, I decided to figure out for once and for all, how to make that glorious sandwich. (The Food Network recipe that supposedly comes from Mama’s is a sham! Don’t be duped. They simplified it - just smoked gouda and turkey! Bah!) And since my momma always taught me caring is sharing, I’m including my recipe so you can enjoy too! Happy brunching!