saturday steak night May 31, 2011

Following in the footsepts of my previous post, I would like to share another nugget of weekend wisdom with the Blogosphere.  (The first nugget was, obviously,  to go to the National Zoo.)  Today, I am parting ways with one of my all-time favorite steak recipes–get your printer ready. 

This actually came from my mom, who probably got it from her Bon Appetit magazines, but I hold it 100% responsible for converting me to the bleu-cheese-lover’s-club, a feat which was a long, fruitless, time in the making.  It takes me back to lazy, swim-free Sundays, with early dinners and nights spent on AOL Instant Messanger, giggling over emoticons and chatrooms.  Recipes that are usually prepared on the grill remind me always of my dad, who used to slave over bratwurst until they were “roassstedddd to puuurrrrfectionnn.”  My apartment obviously doesn’t come with a grill, so the steaks can be cooked just as easily in a hot oven, but the whole process fills me with a sense of nostalgia. 

The tried-and-true Bleu Cheese Steak recipe has made it through families, boyfriends, sneaky roommates, potlucks, and refridgerated tupperware containers, always coming out on the other side with seals of approval.  The last time I was in Columbus visiting Lisa, we made this together, so it seemed only fitting that we re-create the same dinner in DC.  We served it with a heaping pile of steamed green beans tossed with butter and fresh Asiago, as well as a baked potato for swimmer Lisa.  Something about the gooey-ness of the cheese topping combined with the bite of the shallots–YUM!  I overcooked the meat a smidge, but it was all so flavorful and rich we barely noticed.  I am moving further and further towards vegetarianism, but this is one meat recipe for which I can find no veggie substitute–not that I would even want to!

Bleu Cheese Steaks

Topping:

cream cheese

crumbled bleu cheese

shallot

Finely chop the shallot, and combine it with the two room-temperature cheese.  Mash together until mixed.

Cook the steak at 425 degrees.  When one side has browned, flip over, spread the topping (I find that your fingers work best here), and put back in the oven until the steak is cooked to the desired doneness and the topping has browned slightly. 

YUM!

I hope you enjoy as much as Lisa and I did!

YUM YUM!

a perfect day at the zoo May 30, 2011

Happy Memorial Day!  Hope you’re busy getting tan and fat off grill food in hot and humid DC this weekend.

I just bade farewell to my younger sister, Lisa, who drove in from Ohio State for the long weekend.  After getting a little lost (495 is so confusing!), she made it to my apartment on Friday night, just in time to pay Spike Mendelsohn’s burger joint a quick visit.  On Saturday, after squeezing in a few episodes of best-show-ever Arrested Development, we meandered down to the National Zoo.

Bloggies, there are two reasons the National Zoo is one of the best attractions in the DC metro area:

1. It’s F-R-E-E.  And what does my family like more than free anything?  Nothing.

2. When the stars align, you can literally have the best zoo experience possible.  This is what happened to me and Lisa.

For whatever reason, the Smithsonian Gods were smiling down on us, most likely in the form of Simba’s dad in The Lion King, and they made magic happen for us at each exhibit we went to.  First, we went to the sloth bears, where we actually didn’t see any animals.  (The magic in this is that sloth bears are actually really ugly, so we didn’t know that we didn’t really want to see them.  The Smithsonian/Mufasa Gods saved us.)  Then we went to the panda exhibit, where I’ve always had bad luck spotting one of the bears.  Good thing we saw…. a tail.

Disappointed, we turned to leave, when all of a sudden we saw one of the big guys come barreling out of a secret hiding place, happy as could be.

He was only out for a few seconds–just long enough for him to see all the sticky, screaming children and for me to snap my photo.  He disappeared, and I waved my camera in petty triumph over all the other unfortunate tourists.  I figured they had it coming for their blatant disregard for the unspoken Metro rules.

Thrilled with our luck, but acknowledging that we probably wouldn’t have such an experience again, we set off for the cat exhibit.  We got to the daddy lion cage, and found him snoozing on a rock, looking like a big tan blob.  We stood there for a minute, and then a miracle: the clouds parted, the sun beamed a ray of light down onto the lion, and he lifted his head and roared.  AHHHH.

He was stunning, and his roar must have been a straight sign from Smithsonian/Mufasa Gods that Lisa and I were the days’ Chosen Visitors.  We felt so privileged.

We moved next door to the mama lions, who had their sweet cubs out for naptime.

As we walked around the exhibit, a few of the cubs woke up and started roughhousing with each other.  (They reminded Lisa and I of how our brain-damaged cat, Licorice, would play with himself before he reached his current geriatric state.)  The lioness sat serenely above them, knowing that with one swipe of her paw, she could get the little rascals back in line.  They must have been behaving, however, because after growing tired of an energetic hide-and-seek/pounce combo game, the cubs curled up once again and went back to sleep.

Moving on to the last of the cat exhibits, we got up close and personal with Mr. Tiger.  Just as we were coming around the corner to his cage, he popped up (like he had been waiting for us!), bounded down to the water, then walked with purpose to a spot right in front of us.

The minute we walked away, he went straight back into his little cave, leaving us to marvel at yet again how lucky we were.

Last but not least, we ventured into the invertebrate house to oogle the octopus.  We were there just in time for the feeding, where we got to see the normally red creature turn pale in anticipation of his dinner.  While we were crowded by tourists we obviously had never heard the term “personal space,” we had a pretty good view of the octopus (and a stranger).

Aren’t sea creatures just incredibly interesting?  I used to want to be a deep sea diver so I could see all the bizarre animals that live underwater.

Having exhausted all the zoo activities and our leg muscles, Lisa and I headed back home.  We dropped to our knees at the exit to offer a quick prayer of thanks to Mufasa for the incredible visit we had (don’t worry–we didn’t actually do this) before scooting across the street to the new frozen yogurt place (opinion: better than Yogiberry in Cleveland Park, nowhere near as good as Yogafina in downtown Pleasanton).

I can’t speak for my sister, but I know that that was one of the best zoo trips I’ve ever had.  I am obviously a huge proponent of the National Zoo, and encourage any tourist or resident to pay it a visit.  I can’t wait to go back for Zoo Lights this winter!

 

Do you like the zoo?  Which zoo is your favorite?

After Saturday, I would say the DC zoo is the best in the world.  But I also went to the San Diego zoo when I was a wee child, which is supposed to be phenomenal, so maybe that really was my favorite and I just can’t remember anything.  

room, a novel May 16, 2011

Happy Monday!

I apologize for my lengthy absence from the Blogosphere, but I have been struggling with a mild case of writer’s block.  I try to fill UrbanLoving with nuggets from my life that are actually unusual or interesting, rather than rambling accounts of my somewhat mundane life.  While these last few weeks have been undoubtedly fun, there has been little out of the ordinary to inspire me to resume my seat at the keyboard.

The most interesting experience I’ve had recently has actually been in the form of a book.  Just yesterday, I finished reading a novel called Room, written by Emma Donoghue, an intriguing look at what life would be like if your world was limited to an 11 by 11 foot space. 

Room tells the haunting story of a young mother and her 5 year old son who are imprisoned in a tiny cell.  What makes the book so unusual is that is told through the eyes of Jack, the son, in his 5 year old voice and undeveloped perceptions.  The reader never quite has complete understanding of what is going on, and has to do some critical thinking to read between the lines of what Jack sees in his world.  Born in Room, Jack knows nothing besides the objects within and the routine his Ma has established for them.  By capitalizing the names of the objects—Bed, Rug, Meltedy Fork—we understand that to Jack, who has no real companions, these things are his friends as much as his mother is.  While it may seem strange to us, it is perfectly normal (and really the only thing he knows) to Jack, which is part of his sweetness and allure.

The best part of the book is when Jack makes it outside (spoiler alert!!  Sorry.) and is overwhelmed by the new world.  Having never seen stairs, and thus unsure how to navigate them, Jack throws a tantrum and has to slide down them on his bottom.  Can you imagine not knowing how to get down a flight of stairs?  What an unusual idea.

Room is a stunning, emotional book that is gripping in its humanity.  The bond between Jack and his mother is intense, almost uncomfortable, but beautifully illustrated by Donoghue.  I absolutely recommend this book; it was the most interesting thing that I’ve done (read) in a few weeks.  (And those few weeks include a visit to my sister, a birthday celebration, and a trip to a local flea market.)