A Mouse in the Pantry

Stellina Point Reyes

Escaping last night into the fog blanketed quiet Friday night streets of Point Reyes Station, my youngest (and quietest) ventured to try out the newest nightlife attraction to this sleepy tourist town.
Stellina is the the brainchild of West Marin's Christian Chiazzo and the product of a genuine small town pull together to straighten out what has been a culinary mess for several years. Housed in the former Rosie's Cowgirl Cafe (...Taqeuria...original Station House... in previous years), Stellina seeks to provide a modern and cool feel in a somewhat old western feeling town.  Showcasing the evenings main vegetable, Puntarella, as their floral bouquet, Stellina also homes to bring affordable local food to far away travelers in each meal.

As it was a super secret "soft opening" last night for invites only, I was thrilled to watch the typical Point Reyes crews wander by confused as we relished each dish that arrived in their brand spanking new Heath ware finery(complete with price tags).

So here's the quick and the dirty of what we ate.
Warm garlic bread with olives and taleggio cheese $6 - gooey and warm and soul satisfying.
Paradise Valley greens with balsamic vinegar and parmigiano reggiano $6 - really tasty!
SLOW COOKED OCTOPUS!!! $8 (pictures above) - Small portions but oh so seductive.  Tiny baby octopuses (poor things) were absolutely delectable.
Stewed Tomales Bay Cove mussels with onions, Luna Grass fed beef hot links and Italian peppers $8 - Yummy, and please pass on my compliments to the chef.  We are so over mussels around here, and he really mixed it up.
Slow Roasted Puntarella with anchovies, McEvoy olive oil and oregano $8 - Strangely broccoli stem like. Crispy, oily and good!
Braised Goat shoulder with white turnip greens and white polenta $14 - Worth it!
Pan seared yellow jack Tuna - $16 - yes, please, I could eat some more.

The perfect end to what I thought was a near perfect first day on the job for this folks was the unstoppable dessert menu. As quirky as it's predecessors in the evening, Laura Matis impresses the palette and with ample servings to boot (oh you know I love that). $5-$8.
Sparkling green apple sorbet with pine nut Earl grey tea cookies. Warm huckleberry compote on buttermilk ice cream and cornmeal pound cake. And...Flourless chocolate fudge cake topped with caramel creme fresh whipped cream and cocoa nibs - Oh dear!

Try them out, they'll be in full swing soon, and get ready for daily wood fired pizzas. 
Opening at 5pm for dinner Wednesday thru Sunday.

A Mouse in my Pantry

In the wake of things being a bit shaken up around my blog, and not to mention my life, I have occasionally wondered if the title "A Mouse in the Pantry" was appropriate?
Am I always talking about the pantry?
Am I even hinting at the pantry?

Well, if this was even a question, apparently the Gods had other plans, for today, amidst the hurry of life, I found a mouse, in my pantry!

Five little poops. Five tiny specks on the back of my counter (nearest the pantry) and a whole lot of "shit" hitting the fan.

I grew up in the country, I know mouse dookie.  In a country house it's a given. You don't run screaming from every small furry creature. If you did, you'd be out of breath. No, you stop and say hello to the country mouse, give him a mutual nod of respect for making such a grand go of it in the woods himself, and then you lovingly shove foil, or paper, or old socks, into any holes you might find by the cupboards.

This is not the country.  This is the burbs, and no sooner did I find five little gifts on the white Formica counter then I watched a fat brown mouse make a dash under the stove. Right there in front of me.  The nerve!

I have no respect for this mouse. I am mostly disgusted, and a little freaked out about who else could be living here with him.   What if this mouse is making babies in the pantry? Oh dear!

I have just painstakingly begun  my very first Christmas Cake.  It is at this moment in the pantry, wrapped in paper and foil. Vulnerable.  Maybe this mouse is after my fresh Dundee. Oh no you don't. I plan on feeding this cake, filled with dried fruits and nuts, with nice sips of brandy over the next 5 weeks. A convenient mouse hole is not what we need.

 I Have never been a fan of American fruitcake (and still have memories of stone like blocks of it, sometimes in old strawberry baskets, filled with the mysterious green fruit and god nows what else).  Maybe this mouse isn't either?  The British counterpart, or truly the predecessor, is so much more representative of the holidays, and absolutely more delicious.  Inspired by dear former UK residents and Petaluma's premier English Ladies, I wanted to take on this ever so rich and tasty holiday tradition myself.  I'm not saying it will even pale in comparison, but still - where does this mouse get off?

Cured and fed for several weeks after baking, the Christmas Cake is then wrapped in marzipan and fondant and often decorated for the season before it is served.  I am a little overly excited about this.

Now, having no idea where to begin on the Christmas Cake front, I looked up the famous British domestic Goddess's Delia's  favorite recipe.  As it turns out, there is more then one approach to a traditional Christmas Cake.  Some dense and dark (like Sonoma Country Life's Frances Rivetti's cake), or lighter like a "Dundee" hailing a bit more from Scottish waters.  I think I may have fallen into a Dundee, as there is no way this so far looks like Mrs. Rivetti's (or dear Mrs. McCullaugh's mother's either).  Oh well, a Dundee it is this year. Fingers crossed.

As for the pest? The pantry is officially being dismantled. Poison officially laid.  Sorry City Mouse, I have a cake to cure.

Delia's Cake Recipe - CLICK THIS LINK!

Mr. Roboto

 

My mother didn't make costumes.
Actually, once or twice in my life my mother did make me a costume and it was enough of a debacle for me to say, my mother should have never made costumes. 
There was a trash bag "evening Gown" incident that has left me scarred to this day.  Discovered in the Enquirer, a sure fire crafting magazine no doubt, my mother had the brilliant plan to copy the step by step plans for constructing an evening gown out of garbage bags and a stapler.  This was not a good idea.  It was not even a slightly nice idea.  For two young girls, who lived in the country, with no hope of a last minute costume shop run, the garbage bag year was a total flop.  Do I sound bitter? I think I am.
It's not my fault though. 

How humiliating it was to climb into the car and hear "Pop."
"Oh, it's just adjusting to you dear," Mom cheerfully said with a sideways glance meaning something between, "I'm sure it will all work out," and "Oh this better f*%$#@! work out, we live in the country!" Brilliant.

Needless to say, by the time we arrived at my best friends house, and I stepped out onto the muddy dirt road, there were several more "Pop. Pop. Pop's" followed by the sound of my moms' tires pulling away from the mess she had just lovingly created.  It was  rough rainy night.  Poor mom.

So, in some sick twisted way, I have spent the last several Halloweens reliving my childhood through my son's every whim.  It's actually rather demented. Whatever he wants to be for Halloween, he gets it.  Anything!

It began when we moved back to California three years ago. 
"What do you want to dress up as?" I asked my sweet 2 1/2 year old.
"A Prickly Pear Cactus!" he replied.
No problem. Done. Created.
The next year was lost to a pre-made Ninja Turtle, but hey, I was a fan when I was a kid too!
Last year was probably the weirdest and most difficult, Saturn with a Cactus growing out of the top. Huh? double huh?

"Really?" I asked. 

"are you sure?" I pleaded.

"yup!" Was his answer. 
And so it was, one giant red ball of four year old with a sparkly ring and accessorized foam cactus. Whoa.

This year the five year old wanted a space robot costume, and a robot he got, though my nerves were almost shot.  With new baby sister in tow we searched for just the right fabric, and I imagined all the ways this could go wrong between breast feeding, pumping, changing, and oh yes, taking care of the rest of the family and life's adventures. The five year old also imagined a working gauge and several beepy-flashy parts .

I set the long over due thank you cards aside, and whipped out the sewing machine.  Man, Martha would have been proud. Except, Martha would have already sent her thank yous months ago, and my son, would have liked a real moving robot gauge on his front, and I ran out of time (and how exactly do you make a moving gauge?).

I thought the costume was absolutely perfect. Best yet.  But in about 25 years, it is possible that my son will be blogging (or whatever it is we will do to communicate in 25 years), about the misery his mom put him through by not getting his costume just right.

"She didn't even put a gauge on it!"

*After crafting lovely blog about said perfect costume, I am stuck not being able to find the little white dohiggy that connects my camera's picture card to the Mac computer.  I want to apologize and promise pictures when hubby returns home to help me find it. I also want to point out that after several months - "I'm a PC!"(stuck in a Mac's body). I also think you should vote for Barack Obama on Tuesday Nov. 4th!!!(Just thought I'd mention it)