1 lb macaroni
14 oz white wine, divided
6 oz chicken stock
8 oz smoked gruyere, shredded
16 oz brie, rind removed, cubed
3 Tbsp corn starch
1 Tbsp dried thyme, or 3 Tbsp fresh
7 oz dried figs, coarsely chopped
4 oz sliced shiitake mushrooms
6 oz sliced cremini mushrooms
2 Tbsp butter
8 oz diced ham
Cook macaroni until al dente. Drain and set aside.
Combine figs with 8 oz white wine and cover. Set aside and allow to macerate until ready to use. I had a full day of shopping, so mine were hanging out on the counter for 8 hours.
Toss cheeses with corn starch and set aside.
Combine chicken stock and remaining 6 oz wine in a medium saucepan. Add thyme. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Slowly incorporate cheeses, melting completely before each new addition.
In the meantime, melt 1/2 the butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Cook 1/2 the mushrooms until lightly browned. Repeat with remaining mushrooms.
Pour figs and remaining wine into the same saucepan and cook down until wine has evaporated.
Mix macaroni, ham, figs, mushrooms, and cheese sauce. Pour into 9 x 13 baking dish and cover with foil.
Put in cold over. Set temperature to 375*. Once over reaches 375*, bake for 40 minutes.
Serve hot.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Humiliations Galore
Oh, epic fail!
It all started earlier this week, when I asked this incredibly attractive man if he'd like to go on a date with me.
This seemed simple enough. I was clear that this was totally casual. I'm not looking for someone to be my boyfriend (what are we, twelve?), but just a casual date. Are you interested.
This begs the question, however, of what casual means.
I LOVE this question. Genuinely. It delighted me that this was the response I got. Define the parameters.
I love this question because it is precisely the kind of response I would give. In fact, it's precisely the kind of response I gave many years ago.
At 26, having never really kissed a man, and on my way home from a holiday party with a friend, as we strolled the streets of Brooklyn to the nearest subway stop, we happened upon a couple of men, of similar age, and my friend being the not-so-shy and very persuasive type convinced them to kiss us. To those of you who know me, yes, I am actually quite shy in some regards. Her level of forwardness shocked and horrified even me.
But, there we were, and they consented, so she kissed one and sent the other to me, and he said, "Okay, let's kiss...." And I said, "Define the parameters."
Actually, I asked, "How long will the kiss last? Open mouth or closed? With or without tongue?" His response was, "Let's just go for it and see." Not a good response in my mind. I wanted to know what to expect.
So, fast forward to four days ago, and I asked, "Would you like to go on a date?" and his response was, "Define the parameters," and my response was to do just that.
I've heard nothing since. Which is fine. It's either yes or no, and regardless, I'm okay with it. I took a chance, and regardless of how he answers, though I would prefer he say "yes," I'm proud of myself for doing something bold.
Then, today. Epic fail. Oh, epic fail.
I've been concerned, as this is a man I see on occasion out and about in life, that there might be awkwardness, especially if he wasn't interested.
So, when I saw him in passing this morning, and he made eye contact and kind of smiled, I smiled back and gave a small wave.
And being distracted, total klutz that I am, I wiped out. Stumbled over my own two feet and barely kept myself from falling flat on my face. I caught myself to be sure, managing to strategically place my hands on a desk to prevent a full on face-plant, and my shoulder has been sore ever since. Right there in front of this gorgeous man, God, and everybody in the area, I make a complete idiot of myself. Much to the delight of those directly around me who rather enjoyed it and laughed with gusto.
Humiliations galore.
I have no idea if this experience of witnessing my klutziness and proof that I really do need hazard cones permanently affixed to my hamster ball of personal space is working for or against me in this situation.
What I do know is that I chose to ask a kind, decent, genuine man if he'd like to participate with me in a social engagement in a public arena, and I'm waiting (patiently?) for his answer. I truly hope he says yes. I will understand if he says no.
No matter what, I know that I have the ability to choose to act out of a place of hope and grace and joy, rather than fear and pain and brokenness. I figure knowing this about myself, yes or no, I've already gotten more out of this experience than I ever dreamed possible. That is a beautiful thing.
It all started earlier this week, when I asked this incredibly attractive man if he'd like to go on a date with me.
This seemed simple enough. I was clear that this was totally casual. I'm not looking for someone to be my boyfriend (what are we, twelve?), but just a casual date. Are you interested.
This begs the question, however, of what casual means.
I LOVE this question. Genuinely. It delighted me that this was the response I got. Define the parameters.
I love this question because it is precisely the kind of response I would give. In fact, it's precisely the kind of response I gave many years ago.
At 26, having never really kissed a man, and on my way home from a holiday party with a friend, as we strolled the streets of Brooklyn to the nearest subway stop, we happened upon a couple of men, of similar age, and my friend being the not-so-shy and very persuasive type convinced them to kiss us. To those of you who know me, yes, I am actually quite shy in some regards. Her level of forwardness shocked and horrified even me.
But, there we were, and they consented, so she kissed one and sent the other to me, and he said, "Okay, let's kiss...." And I said, "Define the parameters."
Actually, I asked, "How long will the kiss last? Open mouth or closed? With or without tongue?" His response was, "Let's just go for it and see." Not a good response in my mind. I wanted to know what to expect.
So, fast forward to four days ago, and I asked, "Would you like to go on a date?" and his response was, "Define the parameters," and my response was to do just that.
I've heard nothing since. Which is fine. It's either yes or no, and regardless, I'm okay with it. I took a chance, and regardless of how he answers, though I would prefer he say "yes," I'm proud of myself for doing something bold.
Then, today. Epic fail. Oh, epic fail.
I've been concerned, as this is a man I see on occasion out and about in life, that there might be awkwardness, especially if he wasn't interested.
So, when I saw him in passing this morning, and he made eye contact and kind of smiled, I smiled back and gave a small wave.
And being distracted, total klutz that I am, I wiped out. Stumbled over my own two feet and barely kept myself from falling flat on my face. I caught myself to be sure, managing to strategically place my hands on a desk to prevent a full on face-plant, and my shoulder has been sore ever since. Right there in front of this gorgeous man, God, and everybody in the area, I make a complete idiot of myself. Much to the delight of those directly around me who rather enjoyed it and laughed with gusto.
Humiliations galore.
I have no idea if this experience of witnessing my klutziness and proof that I really do need hazard cones permanently affixed to my hamster ball of personal space is working for or against me in this situation.
What I do know is that I chose to ask a kind, decent, genuine man if he'd like to participate with me in a social engagement in a public arena, and I'm waiting (patiently?) for his answer. I truly hope he says yes. I will understand if he says no.
No matter what, I know that I have the ability to choose to act out of a place of hope and grace and joy, rather than fear and pain and brokenness. I figure knowing this about myself, yes or no, I've already gotten more out of this experience than I ever dreamed possible. That is a beautiful thing.
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