Move over cupcake

Nothing against cupcakes, we know they're the in thing these days, but who doesn't love brownies?

It'll be fine with me if I never see another flake of snow and it looks like I'm going to get my wish soon. Forty degrees outside is good enough reason for me to rush and get to The Cellar at Macy's for a baking demo. Rose and I met at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi for some much needed blessing before our attempt at breaking bread with the great chefs of NY.

It's a baker's dozen at The Cellar this month. The list of culinary talent showing off their best is long, unfortunately we're not one of them, but 'will work on it, he he! At today's demo it was the team of Nato and Matt of Baked bakery in Red Hook, Brooklyn. They whipped up some heavenly brownies. Not just your ordinary brownie, my friend, it's decadent chocolatey, fudgy and as Noris would say - puedo levantare el muerto!

For that bakery-perfect cookies and such, skip all the food networks and specialized cookbooks (although I'll admit that I love Cook's Illustrated Magazine, it's all science stuff for those folks at the magazine), according to some people in the audience Baked has the best recipe.

It's not so much the recipe and the instructions but the essential dos and don'ts that the partners at Baked shared with us that really counted. To scoop-and-sweep or not that is the question. How many times to rotate the pan while baking. Bittersweet chocolate or just plain dark. These little things and there's lots of them that matter big. I kid you not. Or else you'll end up with a heap of hockey pucks or slabs of mishaps not even fit as toys for your pet!

The road to perfect baking is threatened with plenty of pitfalls. Believe me I have horror stories I could tell you from my past as a rookie. There's that dough that just refused to rise, the cookie that wasn't so smart, the cake that was neither an angel nor a devil, and so on.

Watch it. From the looks of it, I think Rose is going to embark into a bake-a-thon as soon as she gets home. She grabbed a few baking tools from Macy's, this is dangerous. Let's see what she can come up with aside from her favorite biscuit. I have yet to taste that. Hey Rose, Matt said to rotate the pan inside the oven not outside. I hope you didn't buy the salad spinner for that purpose - rotating. Just kidding, or not!

These brownies are to die for. Easy to make, even Angie at the Zoo can whip it up. I get it that she's not into wasting precious time in the kitchen and that's okay too. No mixer necessary, just start off with your very best chocolate after all that's what makes brownies a hit.

Here it is, from the folks at Baked adapted from their new book Baked New Frontiers in Baking:

The Baked Brownie

Yield : 24 brownies

Baked Note: A great brownie is easy to make, but you have to be aware of several factors. 1. Use a dark cocoa powder, like Valrhona. A pale light colored cocoa does not have enough depth. 2. Make sure your eggs are at room temperature and do not over beat them into the batter. 3. Make sure you check your brownies often while baking. Once the brownies are over baked slightly, they have reached the point of no return.

1 1/4 cups flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons dark cocoa powder

11 ounces dark chocolate (60-70%) cut into 1 inch cubes

1 teaspoon instant espresso powder

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cup light brown sugar

5 large eggs at room temperature

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Butter the sides and bottom of a glass or light colored metal pan 9x13x2

In medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt and cocoa powder.

Configure a large sized double boiler. Place the chocolate, butter, and instant espresso powder in the bowl of the double boiler and stir occasionally until the chocolate and butter are completely melted and combined. Turn off the heat, but keep the bowl over the water of the double boiler and add both sugars. Whisk the sugars until completely combined and remove the bowl from the pan. Mixture should be room temperature.

Add 3 eggs to the chocolate/butter mixture and whisk until just combined. Add remaining eggs and whisk until just combined. Add vanilla and stir until combined. Do not over beat the batter at this stage or your brownies will be cakey.

Sprinkle the flour/cocoa/salt mixture over the chocolate. Using a spatula (Do not use a whisk) fold the dry into the wet until there is just a trace of the flour/cocoa mix visible.

Pour the mixture into the pan and smooth the top with your spatula. Bake the brownies for 30 minutes (rotate the pan half-way through the baking) and check to make sure the brownies are done when the toothpick comes out with a few moist crumbs.

Cool the brownies completely before cutting and serving.

That wasn't so difficult, was it?

Baby it's cold outside!

The trouble with the weather is that you can never predict it with pinpoint accuracy. This time, it's North Texas that has been hit hard so I really have no reason to complain since lately all we've gotten is a few dusting of snow. Wrong. It's still too damn cold for me to be out there. I sort of dropped out from my scheduled activities and totally broke my routine.

Cold snaps can quickly degenerate into wicked weather that can in turn give you a patch of the blues. Let's see how we can smother that with some not so simple solutions. One by engaging in winter sports or joining the Polar Bear Club. My genes unfortunately were not designed for sporting or bathing in the frigid Coney Island waters, so that ain't happening.

Or you can put some good music on, but watch that Eric Clapton's guitar riff doesn't send you into an even steeper drop in emotions. Try Rod Stewart, Sting or John Mayer.

Or you can bake and eat all you can and watch your weight ratchet up like the Big Losers on one of those reality shows. You'll bounce back, guaranteed but only like a blubber ball. Individual results may vary!

Or you can sit and slowly turn into a frozen slug by watching all of Kurosawa's finest or episodes of Deadliest Catch fishing for king crabs on the Bering Sea. That was something else. How did they film that? It's no small feat dropping those crab pots and working under those treacherous icy conditions. Be thankful for your job, others have it far worse than you. The cameramen filming the episodes, the deckhands and fishermen braving the extreme winter weather in Alaska must be in danger all the time. It's hard to tell these days but I hope that's not all scripted reality show.

Or you can go to the mall and walk several laps to shed off those holiday pounds, then stop by Ikea to meet nice strangers. Yeah, he's an Englishman. I went to Ikea to return a rug only to be greeted with a long line at the entrance. What's this? A glut on storage bins and shelving? So I approached this tall, lean fellow who looked like he's an employee. He was minding the self-checkout lane for those of us who can't aim that bar code reader right. These scanners you either love them or hate them.

"So what's the line for?", I asked.

"Oh, it's the Malm 5-drawer chest now on sale for $49.99", he answered.

"I love your British accent; did you just move to New York?", I asked without blushing.

"I love yours too and I'm from Massapequa (Long Island). Originally from California, he chuckled," and where are you from?"

And we both broke into laughter. It was a brief but warm conversation, so refreshing to see good cheer in this era of rushed city life.

It's also a gift some people have. There are those who are skilled in dealing with strangers, I mean making small talk. I'm no social butterfly but I've encountered a few of the friendly ones. Shy I am, but sometimes all it takes is a little hello. Try it, it's more fun than finding a wall to stare at and ignoring that person next to you. Unless they look like they wanna be left alone.

Mr. Noname Englishman, you were friendly, ' sorry but:

I really can't stay

So really I'd better scurry

Baby it's cold outside

Deal with it. It's cold but don't let the blues kick you in the behind.

(*Credits: Picture was taken by Maria at the New Year's Day plunge of not exactly the Long Beach Polar Bear Club members. Sorry I missed the event and a chance to meet Judy's mom. Long Beach is her home. )

The big clean-up 2010

Here's a good place to start, clean up the mess the revelers left behind after the rare blue moon New Year's celebration in Times Square. It might also be a good idea to take down all the holiday decorations. Given the number of trips I need to make to the garage to hide these boxes of ornaments, followed by the big haul of the poor tree to the dumpster, I better get going before another nor'easter gets dumped on our doorstep.

'Tis the season to undecorate, close the books on 2009 and start with a clean slate which is something easier said than done. Speaking of clean-ups too bad I can't undo one of the events of last year and wipe off the mess as if it never occured. Sounds serious? Naah.

It was no walk in the park but something we were able to nip. At last year's election of the board I was grateful to have been inducted for the second term. Unfortunately some people found it difficult to admit losing. One thing led to another and a dissident group of five was born which kicked off a series of unpleasant events. There were no dodging of stones or bullets. That would be just unmanly, wouldn't it? Just childish antics, lies, lies, more lies which kept the board volleying every single attack. What a waste of our time, really. And may I remind you that this is a payless, thankless volunteer job.

It went on for a good five months but we prevailed. Might I add that we did scare the crap out of them. One thing I learned from this is to never judge anything by its cover. The size of a human's skull is not evidence of the presence of any frontal lobe. I guess I was asking for too much. Seriously!

Another lesson I learned is that good deeds do not go unnoticed, people that matter will stand by you, then life will go on or shall I say business as usual. Now if I click my way back to 2009, with the exception of this annoyance it was a very good year.

Peering into the crystal ball, I see a bright 2010. It will not be free of conflicts, disappointments, or unrealized grand expectations. That computer will not boot up, clothes won't fit, relatives will overstay their visit, we will overshoot our budget but we wont quit, instead face these challenges head-on. Just promise me good health and peace I'll be good with that.

Settle down people and tidy up for the New Year.
Happy 2010 everyone!

Elektra

To get through nearly two hours of singing without any intermission required endurance and talent the caliber of Susan Bullock playing the lead role was able to deliver. Elektra is based on Greek mythology and is a story of tragedy and vengeance often labeled as a "psycho-drama" of Freudian and Shakespearean influences.

The opera premiered in Dresden in 1909 making it 100 years old now and still a popular choice among Strauss lovers along with Salome, also an opera in one act and famous for its Dance of the Seven Veils. To support the overwhelming emotional content of the opera an unusually large orchestra is used in Elektra. The music defined the moods ranging from an expression of tenderness to grim rage and in order to achieve symphonic balance, the voices of the major players, two sopranos and a mezzo-soprano, must rise above the orchestra's own powerful sounds. And that's exactly what happened.

It is a simple set outside of the palace with a giant statue of a horse lying on its side representing the Trojan Horse. In this Met debut, the demanding role of Elektra was flawlessly filled by Bullock who is as brilliant a soprano and as graceful an actress herself. She danced the ecstatic dance of triumph as she avenged the death of her father Agamemnon, waving an ax about the stage and finally collapsing to her own death. (No Celine, she didn't have a heart attack, that's not classy. This is the opera, remember?)

The climax left some of us feeling something; I for one, unsure whether Elektra died in her moment of hysteria or she killed herself. It turned out she was overwhelmed by her emotions that she falls dead. It was a superb performance with the dance scene as a great conclusion.

Once again, kudos to the Met for another splendid production. This was a thrilling experience.

'Twas a shoeless Christmas

Let me see. I've been buried in a nest of paperwork and stack of newspapers, obsessed with baking breads and cakes to salvage overripe fruits, caught in the doldrums of winter, worried sick about kinsfolk flying into town in the midst of a snowstorm, etc. I think I've perfected the science of doing a gazillion things at one time leaving me dead tired and finding no energy to write. I'm telling you it's not a cakewalk being old, ha ha.

So it's the traditional Christmas Day party that Inang and I host every year. No invitations necessary, gifts optional (sweaters that fit please) and pot luck dish a must.

This year no friends were invited. We have our own steady supply of cool nieces, whining in-laws, maladjusted nephews, smart grand kids (Matthew is now into square roots of huge numbers), to pack the place from floor to ceiling practically. That's a little exaggerated, but if you were my poor bed, you would've buckled with the weight you're bearing as these humans pile up for a pose for Facebook. Speaking of which Amor had to to be educated and lectured that there's no going back now. This thing called Facebook, not Fess Book will shape the future of her grandchildren like it or not. Note: cousin Amor has a blind spot about technology.

First they were drilled, some of these less than obedient members of the family. We'll have guests we never met before so leave those campy jokes at home, be on your best behavior and pretend you have something in common with them. After all you are part of the clan.

They were the first at the door, my favorite cousin Alice who flew in from Manila to spend the holidays in the city with her daughter Sheila Jane and son-in-law Joie. It's our first time to meet Joie. And Sheila, she was an infant when I saw her last. Before I knew it she's done with med school and now delivers babies among other things while Joie is busy drilling and pinning femur pieces together ( he is an orthopod).

Poor Joie's initiation into the rowdy family. Sure it was a warm welcome, imagine being greeted with a hug and kiss and handed a pair of socks followed by a brutally frank "Could you please take off your shoes?". I'm glad they're family, I can tell them anything - I think! Nelsie whined endlessly about this shoes-off business. This is ridiculous, she ranted. Her glitzy but sharp stilletos could've poked serious dents on my floors. Not counting the fact that she could've delivered a trail of halite indoors. Full disclosure: Nelsie is our own poster girl for fashionable footwear despite her sore heel spurs.

We were joined by the entire family of Amor and Joe, Ate Alice's cousin Flora and Aunt Marta and of course Chong, Marvee and Tita Lumen. It took just a few minutes for the kids to warm up to their newly-met cousins. It didn't take very long for Ped either to bring up the prickly topic of Amor's pichi-pichi dessert. The scanty balls of sweets look like they are just a sprinkling on the platter. Is there a chance she forgot there are at least 25 adults eating today or is there really a shortage on coconut? Ate Alice said she could've used cheese as substitute. Poor cousin went deaf on the harsh critics. How about Joe who started babbling after downing one glass of wine?

There was enough food to feed a battalion but way too many desserts. I've got to do a better job of delegating tasks so we don't end up with sugar high. We were bedazzled with sweets thanks to Grace's pecan pie, Melissa's chocolate chip cookies, Charmaine's assortment of nutty squares, Chong's blueberry cheesecake and Indian pudding, Noris' leche flan, Amor's fruit salad and the infamous pichi-pichi.

There was Ped's glazed ham, Melissa's chicken Marsala, Chong's baked salmon, Charmaine's pasta, Flora's pork bun and of course Inang's signature boiled shrimp, Christmas nilaga (puchero) with lots of veggies and Carol's favorite pinakbet loaded with okra. Amor snuck in a dish of tofu for her grandchildren Kaitlyn and Matthew. Grace brought Gabby's own home-cooked dish - she's got food allergy, eggs, wheat you name it. Poor kid.

As usual everyone left with their own bag of scraps. My big part in all of these is staying as far away from the kitchen while Inang was cooking (like me she prefers to be left alone), scraping crumbs off the floor, sponging off red wine stains on my bed cover and the big cleanup after they all left.

We missed the rest of the family. Elli took George's place. We saw him make a few trips to the kitchen scooping hot broth from the pot. George loves Inang's soup with plenty of kilig-kilig pork. Ramon had a feast, a big break from his diabetic diet and so we had to keep an eye on his plate. Ruel was so flattered when told that he strongly resembles his handsome Uncle Lauro.

Teasing, reminiscing, drinking, and eating; didn't we all have fun? I hope our guests Sheila and Joie feel the same way and we also hope you enjoyed your stay with NYC's best.

And how did you all like your brand new pair of socks for Christmas? Sucky? That's tough!

Merry Christmas. I sent you all the link to the tons of photos we took, so enjoy us!

Badass of the Year Clint

Clint Eastwood, GQ's Badass of the Year!

In my book, he's right up there with the coolest, the Cooler King, Steve McQueen

and my blues-rock man Eric Clapton.

Spot on!

The Red Book, The Tree & George

Overheard in the subway yesterday: "The problem with New York is that there is so much to do you can't leave it". This was a local giving directions to a tourist from Liverpool and who claimed he's been "temporarily living in NY" for the past 30 years. So much to do, so true. Certainly New York with all its surprises isn't for everyone. Alligators in the sewer, rats caught in the third rail, sardine-packed subway cars with all the RSS (Really Stressed Subway riders) passengers are only some of the added pressures in life here. I for one have paid my dues and often ask myself how many more dues does one have to pay?

There's a good chance you've had enough of my NY ramblings so I'll carefully tread on that but will make one exception. My good friends and I have a great appetite for anything NY, stuff that may not appeal to everyone but will thrill others. So if you're one of the latter, tag along on our Manhattan escapade.

Last month, while nervously waiting in the hospital sitting area for Maria to wake up from a snooze after another rotator cuff repair, I stumbled on an article in the Smithsonian about the book of Carl G. Jung. The Red Book which for decades had been kept by Jung's heirs in a secret vault in Switzerland, is now released for public viewing and publication. It was intriguing and my initial response was where can I find it and the answer was there - the Rubin Museum of Art in NY. This museum in the Chelsea district which also has a vast collection of art of the Himalayas and its surrounding regions is the host of this never-before-seen book. So off we went to RMA.

The Red Book featured C. G. Jung's active imagination and fantasies which many believed to have been the center of his work in analytical psychology. It is my interest in calligraphic illustrations, as in the Book of Hours, and not the psychoanalytic content that drew me to this rare exhibition. Jung typed his manuscripts in calligraphic scripts onto parchment pages and painted elaborate representations of his dreams and fantasies. Bound in red and nearly 100 years old, it is one of the most artistic works in illuminated style I've ever seen. It is a painting. A priceless work of art.

From the lower gallery we proceeded upstairs to view the rest of the RMA permanent collection. One exhibition Mandala: The Perfect Circle explored the circular diagram that symbolizes the world of a deity and which is also widely used as aid in meditation. Precise and technical, it is created in colored sand or painted in cloth with warm spicy colors bursting in reds, greens and oranges.

The art work depicted the cosmology and philosophy of the cultures and religions of Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism. With due reverence and speaking of rotator cuff tear, Maria wondered how much pain and suffering the deities with many arms had to bear if they had been afflicted with this condition. This was somewhat of an extension of her experience. Judy added: "It'll make any orthopedic surgeon happier and richer." Bad girls!

True to its promise, the RMA provided a dramatic and exceptional exhibit of Himalayan objects of art which are numerous, very colorful but to the inexperienced viewer like me may seem redundant.

After this heavy dose of culture and religion, we were ready for some light entertainment so we scooted to the Rockefeller Center. The brightly lit towering Christmas Tree is gorgeous, and as expected, one could easily get lost in the crowd or have their picture taken by a total stranger unless they are 7 feet or taller and could steer clear of all the camera lenses around. Five minutes, that's all and four of us decided to leave The Tree for the tourists.

Lather up, Celine. She got her triple-milled French bar of soap at L'Occitane before we escaped the mob at the Rockefeller channel gardens. Having sworn off McD or Burger King, we were now in search for decent grub.

Celine suggested the Palm which we never got to since Maria was so hungry. We instead ended up at Le Pain Quotidiene. Sounds like we're having French tonight. Turns out it's one of those Belgian invasions - it's an international chain of bread/salad/sandwich/bakery European style. The tartine of chicken with smoked mozzarella, greens and a slice of melon stood up to the test. At Midtown hefty prices, it was okay to splurge for something this good and well presented. I'm no Francophile, but this was great, filling enough and healthy. Is this why French women don't get fat?

More interesting was the conversation we struck with our waiter. George is a transplant from the Polish district of Hamtranck, Detroit, who for the last two months has been renting a room from a Russian family in Brooklyn. The kid from Ham what? has a knack for languages, about six he claims he speaks but not fluent enough, except French, to land him a job at the United Nations. It was interesting. One never knows what's behind that apron-donning host or hostess, this one is also an artist. NY is the stepping stone. He seemed happy here at LPQ but here we were as usual dispensing of our motherly wisdom, wishing him much luck in searching for a better job.

Back in the days, say 1970's I wouldn't have said a word to him. Now I have more time to talk and listen. Look out! You can't leave now, welcome to New York, George!