Happy Happy Birthdays

You'd think you would reach a point where birthdays just don’t have the same effect as when you were 6 (first of many cabbage patch kids), 13 (lots of 'wet n wild' makeup and a Guns N Roses CD), 21 (21 shots and very nearly a bowling jacket - no comments from those lovely friends who were in attendance please) or even 25 (my first 'first class' flight and a move over to London for Graduate School). The excitement and pizzazz of (ahem) post 30 just shouldn't have the same 'wow' factor. Luckily for me, I refuse to grow up - and my birthdays just keep getting better.

Friday, September 25th saw me ushering 14 of my closest girlfriends over to mine for a "quiet girly night in", complete with too many desserts, pizza from Firezza, lots of bubbles, and the extraordinarily bizarre Leon - Tarot Reader Extraordinaire.

Thinking it might be fun to have a tarot reader as some light entertainment, never in all my years could I have expected what rocked up that night. With a 'do that was hiding a nest of small animals and a lisp, Leon was quite simply pure comedic entertainment.

For some of my friends, the whole tarot concept went over a bit better (e.g. those that were informed of fortunes they'd soon be receiving). Others, like the lovely JW, was told she'd be getting her heart broken not once, but twice - and soon!

I thought I was certainly due a great reading (it was my birthday after all - the stars must be aligned somewhere). However, even with three shufflings of the decks - the most 'insightful' (insert sarcastic tone here) comment I got was his commentary about me "trying to do everything at one" (fair enough - probably true). However, it was poetically worded like this:

"Here, there, everywhere...Dana, you're like a fart in the air."

Yeppers, I was actually called a 'fart' on my birthday. I won't lie, I nearly wet myself laughing.

This comment was only trumped later in the night with Leon offered to hook me up with a possible gig working for Alice Cooper. He had a friend who performed on stage with him - "dancing around like Britney Spears and pretending to decapitate Alice.” She was looking for a replacement - was I interested? I honestly couldn't have scripted this stuff any better.

So, with entertainment a success - so too was the food. The sweets (we'll get to these in a minute folks) were balanced out with delicious thin crust pizza and a homemade salad of French lentils, goat’s cheese, and roasted butternut squash. Drizzled with fig balsamic glaze and truffle oil - it's my new favourite fall salad - a fricken unbelievable combo.

Deserts were a power combo; a Blitz Torte (meringue, vanilla, and pecan cake layers surrounded by fresh whipped cream and strawberries) and Salted Carmel Chocolate Cupcakes.

Clearly I'm on a salted caramel kick (last month making an ice cream version). These cupcakes are my new special occasion favourites though. There's a bit of an effort in making the salted caramel separately and carving out little holes in the baked cupcakes to fill them with it. Although it's an even bigger effort when the first batch you make accidentally doesn't have any sugar in them (I've learned baking and wine drinking do not mix particularly well).

Luckily, this “carving out” process to make room for the salted caramel requires you to throw out 18 mini bites of chocolate cupcake. And clearly, when recipe calls for “throwing out” – they mean, pour some milk (or more wine) and consume.

A bite of ... home

I spent late August and early September in the beautiful New England sunshine. Contrary to last summer the rain was at bay for most of my stay. I had a fill of my favourites – lobster from “the lobster connection,” “fried duck” from the local Thai place next to the high school, cocktails with my two favourite ladies, Dr. B and SU- C, and an assortment of Audrey treats.

On my end I did a little less cooking than normal due to dinner plans out with family and friends. However, I managed to make Audrey's favourite Rhubarb Cake from Yellow Bistro in Sydney, grill some delicious peaches with feta, blood orange vinegar, and candied bacon and a few other miscellaneous treats. Even though those peaches with the feta and candied bacon were legendary, it was the sexy salted caramel ice cream I made, which warrants it's own laud.

Now, realise – I don’t even really like ice cream. If I was captain of the dodge ball team and I had to pick players, cake, blueberry pie, even fruit salad would be first choices. I’ve always liked ice cream in small doses – and as an accoutrement to the star player – but never in the leading role. I know, I’m weird.

The salted caramel ice cream was one of the creamiest ice creams I’ve ever come across and while “salted caramel” may put a few people off, it was nothing less than divine. It wooed. It tempted. It literally begged to be eaten. When the spoon was placed in the mouth the eyes instantaneously closed, breathing slowed down and there were no distractions at all. Just like a “calgon, take me away" moment. Only better.