What do you call cheese that isn't yours?

NACHO CHEESE!!!


Sorry, I couldn't resist. Well, my friends, Lent is upon us and I have given up cheese. Thus, right now, all cheese is not my cheese. Do you realize how many foods have cheese in them? I'm learning, and trust me, the curve of said learning has proven steep. My cheese-free eating troubles have been compounded by the fact that my darling boyfriend has given up meat.

Together we are, dare I say, vegan. At least in all the important ways, like not eating bacon or cheeseburgers. Or steak. Fresh mozzarella. Chunks of gruyere. Oh dear, I have to stop.

Needless to say, dinner time has presented a challenge of late. But a challenge I believe we have risen to! Thankfully, I am more than happy to spend all day pondering my dinner. To be honest, I have little choice in the matter as it seems to be what my brain does whether I ask it to or not. But I digress.

Last Monday, all this pondering led us to one of the happiest evenings we have spent in a while. Maybe we really will go vegan!* We ended up having an absolute dream of a dinner at Pok Pok, a sort of Thai street food restaurant here in Portland. It is very well loved around town, in addition to getting boat-loads of national mentions. I've been dying to go there for ages, but have only grabbed a bite of take out from their little to-go hut (really, it's a hut) in passing. We are a little slow on the uptake.




Warm and buzzing, the cozy bobble of a space put me at ease instantly. We ordered with relative abandon, considering the aforementioned limitations. Our table was soon gloriously overrun with plates, mounds of this, steaming bowls of that. Even sweet little baskets of the stickiest rice that just begs to be eaten with your fingers. One for me, one for him.

A mellow yellow curry noodle soup with fresh coconut milk stole David's heart, while a deeply pungent wild mushroom salad swept me away. Three days later, eating anything else remains perfunctory. Limey brightness, Thai chili heat, and meaty beautiful mushrooms swirled together to make my mouth in those moments the most dazzled in the world.

What most tied the meal together for me was the fact that I was sipping vinegar all through it. As a child, I used to drink white vinegar by the capfull, and don't even get me started on pickle juice, so the thought of being able to drink vinegar in the grown-up world was quite exciting.

You see, at Pok Pok, they make these very special fruit-infused vinegars for drinking. They come in glass, 2oz of vinegar, and the rest spritzy water! Or, better still, make it boozy and add a shot of vodka. The waitress promised that was a popular way to go and who am I to argue? Kumquat vinegar & vodka? Yes please!

I am wholly enamored of this beverage, and I want to share it with you. However, I've come to the realization that I could never use words alone to begin to do it justice. Therefore, here in the Morellobello laboratories, we are working hard to bring you a recipe for making it yourself! I will be experimenting this week, and ask your patience as I attempt to bring you tangy perfection. Think tart, think fresh, bright, Spring! I'll have it for you before Spring is here, I promise!

Though I must ask you to wait on the beverage, I'll hop off topic for a moment and give you a little movie recommendation to tide you over. The perfect ending of a night whose theme seems to have been slowness on the uptake, we rented Vicky Christina Barcelona and lounged in our spice-soaked stupor. I highly recommend both! Happy almost Spring my lovelies!!






*Doubt it.

I can have whatever I like. . . .

Or so says T.I. in my new favorite song. Did I tell you I have horrid taste in music?

Glitz-ishly festive was my mood this past Thursday as I closed up shop at the end of a long and pleasantly busy day. The song "Whatever you like" was playing on my ipod, further encouraging me towards lush excess.

Dreamily scrub scrub scrubbing away at the dishes, I remembered that the Oscars-- as lush and glitzy event if there ever was one-- were coming up and it would be a good thing if had a festive cocktail ready. Also,and better still, I'd best TEST said cocktail recipe immediately and without delay. An excuse for instant gratification! Yes please!

Now, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I feel you should know that I stole this straight from Gourmet online. However, I don't feel like anyone reads that stuff except for me, so my writing about the cocktail is really more like doing the beverage a favor seeing as it's delicious and people should know that.

Phew. Ok, so it's called the Meryl Streep and if you really want to know why, go to Gourmet.com and look it up. I'd say it really doesn't matter, all you need to know is that it tastes like a glittering night sky in a glass and it looks like one too.




Simple and dreamy, this has only 3 ingrediants. No muddling, steeping, shaking, stirring, nothing. Just bubbly (I used that fabulous CRISTALino stuff), Goldschlager and Benedictine ( I used B&B because it was available in a not-giant bottle that suited me). In my dreams of this cocktail there would be a goldfleck to adorne each and every soaring bubble in the glass, but don't get too hung up on that because it is unlikely to happen that way. The color is gorgeous and the sipping will leave you mesmerized. You'll have stars in your eyes no matter what.



THE MERYL STREEP

adapted from Gourmet.com

1tsp Goldschlager
1tsp B&B
Plenty of Bubbly

Measure the Goldschlager and B&B into lovely flutes, top with bubbly. Be star-struck.

serves 1.



Here's a little picture, with a rose, for cheese factor. It is Oscar night after all.

a bunch of Bologn. . .

...ese.

haha! Awesome.



Today's story is a bittersweet one about a failed recipe, and a failed post. Last night I composed a beautiful post for you (whoever you are, possibly no one), each word painstakingly selected for your reading pleasure. In all honesty, though it sounded pretty, I wasn't entirely happy with it. 3 am and I was pooped, I resolved to look it over once more in the morning and put the finishing touches on it.

Then blogger ate it. In retrospect, it's very possible that the Big Editor in the Sky stepped in to save me from myself and my attachment to what I write. Now in the light of day, I can see that B.E. in the S. was giving me a fresh start.



I'm going to keep it simple, because what I have to tell you is just that. In a nutshell, I tried a recipe and it wasn't what I'd hoped.

Did you see the Jan. issue of Gourmet? The one with the dazzling spaghetti and meatballs on the cover? Well I wanted to make everything in that issue, and I know I'm not alone. We are a country of pasta lovers. I've always thought that was why low-carb is so big, as a we are also a country of people who seem to think if we love something, we should stay away from it. But that's another story.

Anyway, I decided to start by trying my hand at Lasagne Bolognese, the likes of which I have never before attempted. Always a good idea.

To this day, I couldn't say if it was me or the recipe. Ignorant tastebuds? Crappy ricotta? Over baked? Under baked? Who knows, but the bottom line is that after two days of chopping, stirring-while-simmering, and generally pouring my love into this effort I was met with rather a disappointment.

All was not lost though, and this is why;






Yes, half the recipe was a keeper, though by the time I realized that I had already sullied it with the other half. That is to say, the Bolognese was BolognaMAZING and all would have been hunky dory had I realized that before splashing it around in a pan with the noodle-y spinach gunk.

Spreading this knoweledge to you also redeems my efforts. I can convince myself that my time and money was well spent if you promise to hop along and whip up this Bolognese and stop there. Skip the Lasagne and just eat the Bolognese right out of the pan. Everything tastes better that way anyway. Or if you insist on an accompaniment, stay simple. A plate of penne, a bowl of bucatini.


Now you know. Ciao Bellas! Mangia!

So far, so good. . .

The first drink of 2009. I am off to a good start!

In case I haven't mentioned this yet, I am very head-over-heels for Champagne. Take me out to dinner, chances are if I have a drink it will sparkle. Level-headed working girl that I am, I often opt for Prosecco or a lovely Cremant. However, more often then I'd care to admit, if I'm buying a bottle of bubbles, I'll take Champagne. No substitutes thank you very much.

Nothing compares to the excitement of tasting a new Champagne, or popping a known favorite. It could be in my head. In fact, that's likely. But isn't that the magic of a favorite food or drink? Full sensory immersion, the chance to taste a moment, taste earth, nature, even a person.

Champagne is something we covet, that we deny ourselves when things are tight as they are now. In my eyes, that is absolutely wrong wrong wrong. Shame on you, Eric Asimov! Suggesting that this is not the year of champagne?! This is exactly when we NEED Champagne! We've been slapped in the face by the transient nature of our lives as we know them. Comforts were fewer and farther between in 2008 and we're supposed to welcome a New Year, and all the hopes and fears it brings, with a glass of CAVA!?! Have we learned nothing from the hardships of late 2008? 2009 would no doubt hold a grudge at such a shabby welcome (and who could blame it!?) and that's the last thing we need.

Sheesh. Live a little.

I decided to live a lot this past New Years eve, drinking a delicious bottle that I've been sitting on for more than a year now. Left over from last Christmas, this particular bottle has been put on ice more then once over the course of the year. I always intended to drink it, getting my hopes up and it's temperature down, but something always got in the way.

New Years was it, I decided. Champagne or bust. Thanks to a pre-party bet with some of my fellow New Years revellers, I knew that though I'd be waiting until at least 1 am to drink it, drink it I would!



New Years eve arrived and I nursed a bright little flute of Prosecco, waiting patiently for midnight and then 1, the sparkling hour, to roll around. The party was a smash, a glitzy treat with everyone dolled up for the new year, toasting over and over from 10pm on, bubbles of all kinds flowing freely.

Of course, what is a New Years Eve bash with out a few sparks and dramatics? Ours certainly was no exception, meaning that 1am came and went without my knowledge as I was quite busy alternately reasoning with a locked bathroom door and yelling at he-whose-fault-it-was-that-said-door-was-locked.

3am rolled around and as the party dwindled the dramatics settles themselves-- or at least took a taxi back to their hotel. I was left to watch the candles flicker their last flecks and reflect on what was--Prosecco-- and what was yet to be-- Champagne.

"So. . . I'm still game if you are." said he with whom I had the bet, my fellow bubble believer. I glanced over at my lovely other half where he sat fading fast, as he had already partaken of his share of beverages. But because he is wonderful and nice like that, he nodded 'sure, go ahead. I'll have a sip'.

There it was, patiently hiding in the back of the fridge. Stark and thrilling, the label stared back at our greedy little eyes --

C H A M P A G N E

Jacques Lassaigne~ Millesime


Without hesitation, we popped the precious bottle. Softly golden, its candlelit glow fizzed into our glasses. A million ferocious bubbles rush to our lips us as we toast. It is divine, at once rich, clean and totally captivating. Hesitant, curious sips become deep luxuriant pulls. Optimism reigns and we welcome the new year.

Jewels and other things that dazzle. . .

This Thanksgiving was unusually lovely for me, I hope that it was likewise for you. If somehow it wasn't, may I recommend a lovely tart to cure whatever leftover stings and bruises you may have? If somehow it was, you should try the tart anyway, because as Mae West famously said, too much of a good thing can be wonderful.



Here's something heart wrenching; I made this tart for someone else to take to their dinner. I presented some simple and sweet Pumpkin Pies at the dinner that I attended, but I selflessly gave this little beauty to my mother to bestow on her hosts (who were different from my own.)

Well, not entirely selflessly. I demanded at least a slice in return. Of course not until the dinner was over so that the dessert could be presented grandly, that is to say in its entirety.

In the end, I was glad to wait until late that night to taste the fruits of my labor. It was the perfect bite to round out a surprisingly peaceful day, something I'd been looking forward to for nearly 48 hours at that point.

Alright, enough suspense. Lifted straight out of the 2008 Thanksgiving issue of Gourmet, the Prune Cherry and Apricot Frangipane tart is one that initially I passed over. Somehow it called to me on a second, time-killing browse through the issue. Thank goodness for the boredom that drives us to reread and issue already cast aside, because without it I doubt such perfection would have passed my lips this year.

The ingredients are stupidly simple, and the tart more than the sum of its parts. Little mesmerizing jewels, the cherries, prunes and apricots soak overnight in Grappa and a little sugar, plumping and becoming wholly seductive.





Something about making a tart in one of those pans with the removable bottoms inspires me to make my own crust, but I'm sure that you could buy one and stuff it into the pan and few would be the wiser. Use whatever recipe is your favorite if you decide to make your own, I made an all-butter crust and it was, shockingly enough, dreamy.

Whip up a pillowy Frangipane filling while the tart shell pre-bakes. Pressing the glittering, tipsy with Grappa fruits into the frangipane is pretty much one of the most enticing things I've done in my baking career, so you may want to allow a lot of time for it. Or you could be done in under 2 minutes. Your call.

Sip the remaining Grappa as the tart bakes, this is a must.



May it bring you comfort and joy. It certainly did me.


Prune, Cherry and Apricot Frangipane Tart

(From Gourmet, Nov. 2008)

2/3 cup Grappa (I used Clear Creek Fresh Oregon Muscat Grappa)
3 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup prunes
1/2 cup dried tart cherries
1/4 cup dried apricots

7 oz almond paste
1/2 stick of softened butter
3 tablespoons sugar
1/8 tsp almond extract
1/2 + tsp salt
2 eggs
3 tablespoons flour

Chop up the prunes and apricots. Or use all cherries and skip the chopping.
Heat the Grappa and sugar in a pan over med-low heat until sugar is dissolved. Add the fruit and simmer gently for 1 minute. Remove from heat and let it sit overnight. Stir now and then.

The next day, get your tart shell pressed into a round tart pan with a removable bottom. Prick it all over with a fork and bake the tart shell at 375 for about 15 minutes. Let it cool and work on the filling.

Beat the butter and almond paste together with the sugar, extract and salt. Add the eggs one at a time, and don't worry if it looks a little separated. Finally beat in the flour.

Pour the cloud-like mixture into the cool tart shells and press the strained jewels into it gently. Save the Grappa syrup that comes from straining.

Bake for 30 minutes at 375. It is done when puffed and just golden. Brush the hot tart with the Grappa Syrup. Impress your friends with your mad skills.

Big Night

Election night is finally upon us!

My fellow Americans, we have endured months and months of non-stop newsfeed not only from television, radio and newspapers, but also, and perhaps most tryingly, from those we hold most dear.




Not only have I seen and heard my very own friends and family become political junkies, I myself do not claim to have come through this election unscathed. I've chuckled at a Sarah Palin joke or five, I've got Obamagirl on my iPod. I'm only human.



If you've somehow missed my not-so-subliminal message I've been blaring thus far in todays post, here's what.



Thank the Lord this is over. Let's all have parties exactly like this post-- that is to say Absolutely Bubbling over with Champagne! Do everyone a solid and spring for the good stuff. We have more then earned it!



Cheers!

when life gives you pumpkins. . .

I could hear the rain pouring this morning as I luxuriated in my bed, drinking up my day off in lazy sips of sleep. It was a glorious morning, quiet and peaceful down to my bones. Didn't have to be anywhere until 3, when I'd walk down and meet David when he finished work.

My walk was dreamy. The day had become crisp and bright in the aftermath of the morning shower and Flogging Molly reeled out of my iPod to put a good jaunt in my step.

David's foul mood threatened my flawless day, so I whisked myself off to the little French bakery near my house. It is always overrun with strollers and their pushers, ladies who mocha and the men who love them, not to mention scary Lance Armstrong wannabes. But today is charmed because it's just me and another scattered few right now. A perfect day to spend a little time with you, and gush a little about the pumpkiny fun I've been having.

Believe it or not, there are people who can refuse a slice of Pumpkin bread in Fall. I believe that people like this have likely developed said ability after being the victim of a Bad Slice. Bad Slices come from Bad Recipes, of which there seem to be many. Thankfully, I'm here today to bring you a Really Darn Good One.



Nothing smells so cozy as something pumpkin-pie-spiced baking slowly in the oven, as evidenced by the oodles of “Pumpkin Harvest”-ish candles that vie for shelf space at the very whisper of the first chill of autumn. Call me bonkers, but I always thought it more fun to actually BAKE something rather then light a candle and pretend so I have tried quite a few Pumpkin Breads in my day. Vegan Pumpkin bread, Alton Brown-hyper-analyzed-until-it's-no-fun Pumpkin Bread, Hippie whole wheat unrefined everything Pumpkin Bread, Pumpkin Bread with no leavening agent (accidental, but a trial nonetheless). Some were ok, others so gross they'd have turned a weaker person off pumpkin anything for good, but none were IT.

Then I met David, and in turn, his mother's recipe for Pumpkin Bread. THE recipe. Although it's taken me a little practice to recreate the ethereal perfection that David's mother effortlessly coaxes out of the simple recipe, I have no qualms about sharing it with you. You can do it.




Just know, tempting though it may be, this cake will not turn out if you sleep walk through it's stupidly easy steps. I don't know how else to put it.

Pay attention to the harvest moon-colored batter as it splashes around in your mixing bowls. Make flirtatious googly eyes at it as you ripple it into the baking pan. It may take a little practice but you'll be well rewarded.



I sat munching away at a freshly baked loaf this past Sunday with some of my best girlfriends, we all agreed there was magic in the way indiscretions of the night before were gently melted away by its spicy goodness. Come to think of it, if your Halloweens are anything like mine, this is just the thing to have around the house for the after party. . .




Here's the recipe, I hope it brings you plenty of warmth in the cold days ahead. . .

BETH'S PUMPKIN BREAD

3 1/2 cups Flour
2 teaspoons Baking Soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon cloves
3 cups sugar
1 cup Oil
4 eggs
2/3 cup water
2 cups canned Pumpkin


Combine all the ingredients and beat for 3 minutes in a electric mixer. Pour into 2 medium sized loaf pans or 1 10 inch tube pan that are greased and floured.

Bake 1 hour (or more, usually it takes a little longer but I'd give it a poke at 1 hour).

Cool 10 minutes and then invert on the cooling rack. Some people like it with a little cream cheese frosting, but I prefer a good slather of butter.

a piece of cake

Here's what I love. Champagne.

Here's what I hate. The word 'foodie'.

In case you couldn't tell, I am a complete rookie when it comes to blogging. My previous post was a case of testing the waters, of testing myself, too. Food is what I want to think about and work with in my life, and I am a really lucky girl because since graduating from college, I've found a couple of tasty ways to make it my day job.

In college I tried my hand at writing about food for the college paper, eventually having my own weekly column and becoming the Big Fancy Editor of the A&E section. Now, I spend my days with my hands deep in chocolaty goodness, which is an all out pleasure, but my mind needs a little exercise beyond converting ml to grams or imagining a new way to pair up chocolate and peanut butter (suggestions on that especially burning question are welcome, by the way). So here I am, jumping on the blog train at last, better late than never.

Clarity comes to me when my hands are busy pouring, whisking, rolling out. Like so many others, the kitchen is my shrink's office. Food only happens as quickly as it happens, only bakes as fast as it needs to bake. It demands that I listen to something other than the noise of the day; mustard seeds popping, jam simmering, ice crunching, chocolate bars snapping. Baking is my go-to therapy, but I have been known to try a thing or two on the savory side as well. No doubt I'll write a bit about bars and restaurants here too, because I live for a great night out. I love food and the meaning that it has in our lives, the memory is carries. 'Foodie' is a contender for Word Most Likely to Make Me Vomit (followed closely by 'classy, but that's another story). Now my lovely and very appreciated readers, enough about me.


So that's my story, that's why I'm here. I hope that this blog will be a juicy pleasure to read and write. In the spirit of laying all my cards on the table, I'm offering up a recipe that I've become rather known for in my circle and has thus become a real part of my culinary identity. It's a SUPER chocolaty layer cake and really, is there a more pure joy than making a layer cake for someone? I think not! Breezy to throw together, and gloriously tolerant of a night in the fridge, this is the most requested thing I have ever made-- at least 6 times in the last year, one of which was for a wedding, which totally counts for at least 5 more. Be prepared for that oh-so-awesome feeling of flattery when someone asks for your magical cake on their birthday, as though only you hold the key to taste bud bliss.

Resist the urge to tell them how easy it is, and bask in the glow of adoration and chocolate-induced euphoria. This cake is absolutely moist, full of buttermilk and oil and even hot black coffee, which you use to melt 3 oz of the best dark chocolate you are willing to bake with ( I used Ecuadorian 71% from Chocovic.)



Good cocoa powder is important too, as fully 1 1/2 cups of the stuff give the cake much of it's chocolaty depth. A Kitchen Aide is useful as always, but the cake can be mixed up pretty easily without it, which is always a bonus if you happen to be in the mood for a little therapeutic old-fashioned whisking, which I find is often the reason I'm baking in the first place.

The icing on the cake is quite literally a chocolate ganache, which is the only tricky part. There is nothing to be afriad of , but I have changed this recipe a bit because I don't think that the version from Gourmet is as simple or as good as it can be, so I hope that will make this potentially intimidating step simple. It can be helpful now to have a friend around because you'll want someone to help you lick the bowl. . .

. . .or not.

Without further ado, here goes! Enjoy and thanks for reading!
For Cake Layers
3 ounces bittersweet chocolate
1 1/2 cups hot coffee
3 cups of sugar
2 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups unsweetend cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3 eggs
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
For Ganache:
1 cup heavy cream
1 lb good dark chocolate

Make Cake Layers
Preheat oven to 300F. Grease pans and line them with wax paper.

Chop up the chocolate super fine and pour the hot coffee over it. Let stand, stir occasionally.

Sift together sugar, flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Beat eggs with an electric mixer until thick and lemony looking (about 3 mins.). Drizzle in oil, buttermilk, vanilla and lastly the coffee-chocolate mixture. Beat until well mixed.

Add the sugar mixture and mix until just combined. Divide between the two pans and bake for 1 hour.

Cool the layers, and when they are cool, invert them on the rack. They can be made 1 day ahead and stored at room temperature wrapped tightly in plastic wrap. I like to give them a good chill before I frost them.

For Ganache:

Chop up the 1lb of chocolate into very small pieces and put in a nice big bowl. Heat the cream in a saute pan to just boiling. Remove from heat and pour it quickly over the chopped chocolate. Let it sit at least 30 seconds until the chocolate seems soft.
Using an immersion blender, emulsify the cream into the chocolate. It is important not to over-mix, and to do this quickly, moving the blender in clockwise circles and trying not to incorporate any air.
It is good to stop mixing as soon as it appears uniformly smooth. Chill it a little, and frost the cake when you think that the ganache is at a good spreading consistancy. Last but not least, be sure to serve with lots of bubbly to some good party people.

promising. . .

Tonight is looking very, very sweet, thanks to a little inspiration from last months Gourmet and the irresistible bounty of chantrelles. Mushrooms two ways with poached eggs and of course a Pearl Bakery baguette to chew on. Ultra-salty butter and a bottle of red from the south of France to absolutely send me over the moon.

This afternoon, I took a walk in the autumn sunshine down to see the crazy-knowledgeable wine guys at Liner & Elsen, a great wine shop near my house, and they nerded-out with me until we found the perfect wine for tonights dinner. It was a complete blast and left me with a jubilent feeling about the rest of the day. A bottle of wine and a cliffs-notes-esqe intro to the Languedoc all for the total bargian price of $11.50.

I practically skipped all the way to the co-op, where I loaded up on criminis and the aformentioned chantrelles. Lobster mushrooms tempted, but I resisted. I didn't want to totally blow the budget, and besides, there can always be mushroom risotto tomorrow.

I wasn't going to write today, I'm working on an "Officially Introducing Miranda" post for later in the week, but this dinner was just too good to keep to myself. I hope you are relishing this gorgeous September day as much as I am. Maybe I don't miss summer so much after all. . .

a very early morning, a very grey day

When I have a Sunday afternoon, and it is gray outside, nothing could be nicer than being asked to bring dessert to a dinner that night. Especially on a Sunday like today when I am the giddy new owner of "The Last Course" by Claudia Flemming. Page by precious page of real passion and detailed understanding, it is a book that demands the most of it's reader, and it's the most inspiring cookbook I've read in a good while.

Deep purple little flirts that they are, a small but promising mound of Italian prune plums caught my eye at our neighborhood shop the other day. I felt like there was something a little criminal about missing a chance to spend a little time with them, but I was doing simple shopping that day and resisted the urge to snatch them up. So, today, with dessert as my excuse to leaf again through Flemming's book, I happened upon her Italian Prune Plum Crisp and all at once everything fell into place. Those plump indigo beauties had a home and I had my dessert.



Though 2 1/4 pounds is a LOT of prune plums to pit, the pits are very agreeable and pop out without a fight. Quartered and sprinkled with a little sugar, they are gorgegous to behold and just begging for a crispy coat.

Let it be known that I am no a crisp aficianado, but I was surprised that the topping has no oatmeal. It's nuttiness and body come from ground walnuts, which sounded so much more luscious and rich than the toppings that I am used to. Anyway, with sugar, flour, cardamom, and plenty of melted butter, it's a breeze to toss together and its' really messy fun to spatter around the top.

Here's what it looks like! Oh, and welcome to my blog, we'll see how this goes. . . .