Le Crueset Love

I love my Le Creuset dutch oven. It's beautiful, timeless, versatile, expertly crafted and comes with a lifetime warranty. What more could you ask for? I like how heavy it is, like one of my grandmother's antique kettles. It's so shiny and attractive, yet the weightiness reminds me that it means business. It's made of cast iron with an enamel coating, so it retains temperatures well and cooks food evenly. It will never rust and cleans easily, even in a dishwasher, if you are so inclined. I use it to braise, boil, brown and bake. It's a dream.

No wonder they are so widely coveted - you see them all over the sets of Food Network's cooking shows and artfully arranged in the magazine spreads of Martha Stewart Living and Bon Appetite. These pots can be quite an investment ($220-250!), unless you are one of the lucky ones like me, who received one as a gift. (Psst! On several occasions, I have spotted them at TJ Max or Tuesday Morning for obscenely low prices.)

So you see, this pot is incredible. One of my favorite possessions! I've even worked it's rescue into my escape plan, if our condo were to ever catch fire. I never put it away - it's always on the stove because I just love the way it looks. I'm smitten, I tell you!

Then one day something terrible happened. I used it to make mashed potatoes, and after a very vigorous mashing (with a plastic masher, mind you, not the metal ones advised against in the product manual), I discovered two small chips in the enamel. I was distraught and desperate, so I put all my faith in a box, along with the pot, and mailed it to Le Creuset's American headquarters in hopes that they would fulfill their prophesy of a lifetime warranty.

I admit, I was skeptical. I think of warrantees like how I think about health insurance: Having it is wonderful and comforting, but I hope I never have to actually use it. When I do, I am suddenly faced with questions, confusion, headaches! Everything these days seems to be entangled in restrictions, fine print, red tape, long and frustrating phone calls to foreign lands ... Surely, it could not be as easy as sending my ruined cookware back in a box with a pleading handwritten note, signed with a smiley face.

But it DID work! Can you believe it?! Two weeks later I received a brand new dutch oven, in the same flame red, packed carefully and sealed in their trademark orange box. They asked no questions. I filled out no forms. There was no note, no paper work inside the box. The simplicity and promptness was uncanny. It felt like Christmas! It felt like believing in Santa Claus.

I am a loyal customer for life. Le Creuset is tops in my book. Highly recommended!

Jewelry Shop

Years ago, I had a jewelry shop where I peddled various handmade pretties. I discovered that I still have a huge lot of old materials laying around, so I've decided to clean house and open up shop, if only for the holiday season. Why not?

Currently, I have 10 pairs of these sweet birdie earrings:

Partridge in a Pear Tree

Antiqued pewter bird drop earrings with five tiny, green gemstones. (Please note that natural gemstones may vary slightly in color and shape from the picture shown.) Earrings are about 40 mm. long from hooks. $12 a pair.

If you are interested, visit my Etsy site or send me a message (johannainman@gmail.com). I'll post new styles as they become available.

Honeymoon!

Sunset at Villa Caletas I, originally uploaded by Erik Holmberg.

We've decided to honeymoon in Costa Rica next May. Just booked our flight! I'm incredibly excited, I just can't stand it.

There will be monkeys and volcanoes and waterfalls! Tree houses, beaches and sea turtles! Finally, a tropical destination is on our horizon.

Has anyone ever been? I'd love to hear all about it. Suggestions are most welcome, please and thanks.

Condo Makeover: Pt. 1 (Despair lurks behind the shower wall.)

There is nothing we want more right now than to sell our condo and move to a beautiful, quiet place out in the sticks. Since there is a fire burning under our butts, I've compiled a long list of home repair/makeover projects to complete before Christmas. Although I shudder to think about investing more money, labor and time into a place that I despise, I try to remind myself that every project is step closer to our goal of selling.

So, I started my first project - re-grouting and repairing the bathroom tile. This was without a doubt the most unsightly eyesore in the place, even worse than the harvest gold (to match the bathroom tile, of course) kitchen counters or 1970's bathroom wallpaper. (Who wallpapers a bathroom? WHO!) The grout in the shower was either stained, crumbling or completely missing. There was a broken soap dish - it had just fallen off the wall one day, probably due to the fact that I used it many times to prop up my leg to aid in shaving that tricky spot under the knee. So basically, I was faced with a major grout FAIL, a 4" x 8" rectangle of jagged plaster protruding from the wall, and a perpetually fuzzy knee-bow.

Replacing the soap dish was most challenging. I was naive to think that we could just chip away the plaster, sand down the opening and insert a new soap dish. Instead, after a minute of chipping, the entire tile crumbled, taking two neighboring tiles with it. Now I had a bona fide hole in the wall, revealing a musty black abyss framed by moldy pieces of deteriorating drywall. (Who puts drywall behind a shower?) My first Money Pit moment.

I've had the honor of living in an assortment of dumps in my lifetime. In a momentary fit of panic, all the scruffy, sunken faces of past landlords flashed before my eyes as I scrambled to recall what a self-respecting slumlord would do to temporarily mask a disaster of this caliber. Kidding! Kidding. I fixed it up real nice and right.

After a little panicking and a lot of research, I managed to patch the hole and affix the tiles and new dish using an obscene amount of grout and silicone adhesive.

Re-grouting the tile was a piece of cake. Took me maybe 30 minutes. This would be good to try if you have a sad looking shower wall, but can't afford to replace the tile. New grout brightened up the whole space, making it fresh and new again. Here's how:

• Scrub the tile and grout until it is as clean as possible.
• If the grout is still stained and mildewed, gently scrape away the layer of grime with a utility knife. Vacuum the tub of loose debris.
• In a plastic bucket, mix unsanded grout and water until it forms a thick paste. It will be a little gritty. Let stand about 10 minutes.
• Using plastic spatula or float, apply grout mixture to the tile, working over the old grout in upward motions, with the spatula held at a 45 degree angle against the wall. With a damp sponge, wipe away excess grout. Carefully work grout into the cracks with your finger, if necessary. If you mess up, it's okay, just wipe off the grout and try again. It's a very forgiving process.
• Take a break. There will be a white powdery film on your tiles, but after a couple of hours, you can wipe it away with a dry rag.
• Allow grout to cure for 24-48 hours. Do not expose the tile to moisture.
• Finally, use a brush and apply a coat of sealer to the new grout.
  

Viola! My bright new shower wall! It's like I have a brand new shower. Hooray!

Tonight I tackle the horrifying wallpaper. Cross your fingers for no surprises!

Sausage Fest

In this photo, I look like the world's tallest woman.

When someone asked how my weekend went, they seemed a little dismayed when my enthusiastic reply began with, "Oh! Well, my friend Heather and I purchased a food grinder and $50 worth of pig intestines ..." I guess that's kind of strange, to be 27 and giddy over stuffing pureed meat into hog casings on a Friday night. Sometimes my excitement over such things is overwhelming, and I forget that people who don't really know me do not actually mean it when they ask, "How was your weekend?" They are usually just offering a variation on hello, and I guess pig intestines was more than they bargained for, judging from their curled lip and blank stare. But I mean, this is exciting! For nearly two weeks, we had been planning a literal sausage fest.

I bought this and this attachment for my Kitchen Aid mixer. Our friends Alex and Heather had acquired a whole, freshly slaughtered pig from Alex's family, raised and fed on the green pastures of their Arkansas farm. We gathered up ingredients: spices, apples, fresh herbs, maple syrup, brown sugar, crushed red pepper and red wine. Then we just went at it - grinding up meat, mixing in flavors, belting out chains of sausages as long as a tractor trailer. We struggled a little at first before discovering that we had a sausage expert right under our noses, watching Terminator in the next room, in fact! Kurt used to work as a meat man at a Chicago Whole Foods. He dropped some serious sausage knowledge. We stood amazed and dumbfounded as he magically twirled a 4 ft. sausage rope into 8 slightly curved, perfectly neat links. I swear, that man is full of surprises.

We each ended up with a rope of spicy Italian, apple/onion sage and maple/brown sugar breakfast links. I will be honest. Although our efforts resulted in beautiful and delicious handcrafted ropes of sausage, the act of sausage making is absolutely uncomfortable, borderline disgusting. I mean, you are basically jerking off a tube of meat for an hour while your partner uses a stick to rapidly stuff pink marshmallowy pork puree down a grinder shaft.

I didn't let these gory details sway me! As Julia Child would say, "Nothing is too much trouble if it turns out the way it should." It was a tasty, worthwhile adventure, and with my fridge stocked with fresh bangers, we're already planning to explore the world of cured and smoked sausage. Hickory Farms has nothing on me.

Siltstone Trail

Nature!


Tree bender.

Poor Fedor was pooped. Heather had to carry him like a sack of potatoes. Cute, they match!


A long uphill journey. From top: Kurt, Stacey, John, Heather, Alex.

I'm really keen on hiking lately. I think the forest is best in the fall, with the cool air and leaves crunching underfoot. We hiked the Siltstone Trail at Jefferson Memorial Forrest. At it's best: brisk breezes, scenic views from over the ridge, rustling tree branches, mushrooms and mosses of every shape and color. At it's worst: grueling, butt-kicking hills and boobie traps (mudslide, hole in the ground, sharp rocks!) disguised by blankets of leaves. Our dogs gleefully pranced between piles and piles of horse poop, doing their best to gobble it up before receiving disapproving swats on their noses. After an abbreviated bout of tree bending, Kurt fell out of a tree. Now he has a kankle to show for it. We sat on logs and had a picnic of stinky cheese, honey crisp apples, pumpkin seeds and dry salami.

Millennium Trail

On Halloween, Kurt and I hiked a portion of the Millennium Trail at Bernheim. The trail had no mercy on me - we climbed up and down hills until my butt fell clean off. We hopped over streams, hiked over the ridge and through the mossy valleys covered with fallen leaves. We spotted a deer family, two woodpeckers, and several types of mushrooms.

When we are in the forest, Kurt likes to tell me stories about Harold's secret life. According to Kurt, Harold lives deep in the wilderness, inside a hollowed-out tree trunk. When he scurries inside, it appears to be an ordinary old tree, almost as big around as Harold is long. But once inside, you discover that the tree is, in fact, oddly spacious with cozy nooks and candlelit corridors. Framed photos of Harold's great grandparents hang in the entry way, and a coat rack holds his various caps, scarves and pea coat. The main room is centered around a large, wood burning stove, and Harold's wife, Gertie, is tending to a bubbling pot of stew. The pantry is stocked with lots of snacks. Cheese cubes, pretzels and little bits of meat. Harold sits in a high-backed leather chair in front of the fireplace, wearing spectacles and a marled wool cardigan. He has a big bookcase full of picture books and he just stares at them through his wire-rimmed readers. When Harold isn't at home, he is scurrying around the forest floor collecting leaves and sticks for the fireplace. When he returns home, he always tracks snow on the rug. Gertie hates that. Sometimes, Harold pesters his neighbor, Mule, who just lives in a nearby hole in the ground. Mule acts like he doesn't like Harold, but he's actually his only friend. Harold has a secret garden behind his tree. Sometimes he puts little reins on Mule to help him pull fat turnips out of the ground. When we arrive at Harold's, he serves us steamy mugs of hot cocoa, which he's gingerly topped with a large marshmallow.

This stream might eventually turn into whisky at the Jim Beam Distillery.




Kurt's best impression of the Woodchuck Cider mascot.


We sat on this mossy perch to rest and eat pepitas.

We tracked our route with EveryTrail.com so we could nerd out on maps and statistics.

Bernheim

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