#lindseatsrichmond - IT'S ON!

I've probably been asked the question "what's your dream job?" a thousand times.  And my answer is always "getting paid to eat and write about it."  Then I slap my knee hard and share a good laugh with whoever asked me, because that's just crazy.  Until now.

It's true, my dream job has arrived; Tourism Richmond is seeking a food blogger up for the challenge of eating at 365 restaurants in 365 days, all in beautiful Richmond, B.C.  The successful applicant receives a generous salary, help with living expenses, their 365 meals, and a pass to the Richmond Oval to work it off!

With applications due by the end of March, I've launched a full-fledged campaign to get hired.  If you're up for it, I would really appreciate your support!  I'm asking people to send in photographs of themselves holding signs that say #lindseatsrichmond, with their location below and names too, if they wish.  Photos can be sent to lindsaylaurenanderson@gmail.com until the end of March.

If you're up for taking things even further, you can upload your photo to Facebook and/or Twitter (follow me at @lindsay_lauren) with the hashtag #lindseatsrichmond.  Soon the world will be asking "Who is this Lindsay girl, and how does she know SO MANY COOL PEOPLE?" and I'll say "I don't know, but I want to bake cookies for them all.  With extra chocolate.  And nuts.  The expensive ones."

Here are the photos - 277 from 6 continents, 29 countries, and 131 cities!  Thank you so much to everyone.  The response has been incredible.  Click here to see thumbnails of all 277 photos, courtesy of Frank Lee.

Bangalore, India

Jerusalem, Israel

Follow @lindsay_lauren

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Day Tripper.

Last week I biked to Horseshoe Bay and ferried over to Bowen Island.  It was the simplest of day trips - I was only gone about seven hours - but it was a vacation nonetheless.  The sky was bright, the air cool and clean, and Bowen was awfully charming.  I have a feeling even their landfill is quaint.

I had lunch at Artisan Eats (which I highly recommend) then walked around and discovered all I could.  Here are some pictures from my day of adventuring, including a lovingly-shot portrait of a dilapidated cottage.  It was the white chocolate cream cheese icing on my oh-so-delicious cake of a day.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Mountain.

I recently realized how much I love baking big cakes.  They’re a personal challenge, like climbing a mountain or running a marathon, only you’ve gained weight by the end instead of having lost it.  This one, courtesy of Sky High Cakes, was my Kilimanjaro; it's do-able for the average being, but still quite a hike.

A few months ago, I saw this recipe on Smitten Kitchen and said something along the lines of  “Peanut butter and chocolate cake tower?  OH YES I WILL BE MAKING THAT.”  With my roommate Janine’s birthday on the way, I finally had my excuse.

I purchased an offset spatula for the job, which may now be my most prized possession.

I also purchased chocolate, cream, peanut butter, butter, cream cheese, icing sugar, sour cream, flour, and then a gym pass.

For dinner we had raclette, which is communal eating at its absolute finest.

Steak, shrimp, salmon, sablefish, potatoes, mushrooms, balsamic onions, cornichon, and bread were just some of the delectables we passed around and ate under melted slices of swiss cheese.  Once we'd grilled and broiled to our hearts' content, we took a break.  Then it was cake time!

Deb of Smitten Kitchen described this chocolate cake as “INTENSE.  Serve it in the thinnest slices possible, and keep a glass of milk handy.”  I nearly ignored these instructions, believing myself to be above thin slices of cake.  I like wedges, something sturdy.  Her advice turned out to be an understatement, however, as this cake was beyond intense.  It was so awesomely rich and fudgey that even I had to stop after my reasonably allotted portion.  You simply CANNOT wedge this one, and I mean that in the best possible way.

Happy Birthday, Janine.  

Oh Sunny Day.

Today was sunny in Vancouver, and I appreciated it.

So did the orchid in our kitchen,

my coffee-drinking neighbours,

this patch of sidewalk,

and these lonely shoes.

But most of all, these yeasty biscuits appreciated it, as it gave them a deliciously warm kitchen to rise in.  Now my belly's appreciating these biscuits, so we've come full circle.  Thanks, sun.

Flaky Freezer Biscuits (a tree-planting camp favourite, from the Best of Bridge)
Yields approximately 20 biscuits. 
1 Tb yeast (1 package)
2 Tb sugar

¼ cup warm water

5 cups flour

3 Tb sugar

1 Tb baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 cup butter 

2 cup buttermilk (or milk mixed with 2 tablespoons lemon juice or vinegar)

In small bowl combine yeast and sugar in water.  Set aside for 10 min.  In large bowl mix flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Cut in butter to form crumbly mixture.  Stir in yeast mix and buttermilk.  Mix just enough to hold together.  Roll ¾ inch thick on floured surface.  Cut out biscuits with cutter.  Prick tops with fork.  Freeze separately on cookie sheet.  After frozen, stack and wrap well.  Before baking, thaw and let rise until puffed slightly (about 30  min).  Bake at 425 for 15 min on lightly greased cookie sheet.   

Or just bake them up and eat right away!  As per today.   

Gingercabin 2012.

I’m writing about old buildings again, but this time they’re edible.

 If we’re together around the holidays, my friend Megan and I make a gingerbread house.  It always possesses a theme, though they’re not always wholesome.  If you’re thinking  “Santa’s Workshop” or “Victorian Christmas” you’d be off.  Way off.  This year’s theme was “Derelict Northern B.C. Log Cabin.” 

Megan is an excellent gingerbread house-making partner for two reasons: she has a dark sense of humour and an extremely steady hand.  Our masterpiece had ivy growing up its side, mould on the roof, an outhouse in the yard, and a gummy bear carcass in the snow (dead of natural causes, I assure you).  We included a pile of rotting logs stacked in the yard, because any self-respecting northerner would know that’s a necessary feature.  Gorgeous!

I also have a Christmas tradition with my friend Stephanie.  We put on Sorel boots and “Go Trudging,” usually along the snowy trail that circles our childhood neighbourhood.  This year I requested that instead of our usual route, we head up to the old trappers’ cabin near the university.  Why?  Because it was the inspiration for the gingerbread house.  

The cabin was easy to find, though it’s in rougher shape than when I last I saw it.  It resembled its edible counterpart not when we first baked and built it, but at its final, almost entirely-eaten stage.  All that remains are the cabin’s lower walls, mossy old logs stacked ten high, which within a few decades will have returned to the earth completely.   

With its life beginning at the grocery store and ending in the bellies of two hungry 20-somethings, the gingerbread cabin’s fate was far less romantic.  But it was appreciated nonetheless, and held up well.

Happy 2012.  May your year be as lovely as these cinnamon-spiced walls were to eat.    

  

  

For Lisa.

You know those people who blog about stupidly complicated recipes with 59 steps and 26 different ingredients?  Those people?  Well today I’m one of them. 

 I made owl cookies.  They were time-consuming and tedious. They were finicky and miniature.  They were quirky and questioning little beings that stared at me wide-eyed from the plate.  I don’t suggest you make them.  But they were awesome. 

Ever since I visited London's Cinnamon Tree Bakery I've had their famous shortbread on my mind, so for my friend Dana’s birthday I thought what the heck, let’s go crazy.  Let’s make some wicked little owl cookies. 

It was a long and annoying process, and I cursed my plan after all of eight minutes.  I made the dough, rolled it into a log, froze it, cut it, rolled out some more dough, dusted it with cocoa powder, cut out the eyes, put two on each cookie, finished the eyes with tiny chocolate chips, chopped almonds in half for the beaks, added slivered almond horns, made patterns on their bellies with the tip of a paring knife, baked them, cooled them, packaged them, then transported them to Dana’s house, anxious the entire way they’d fall and be ruined.  They survived the journey, however, and were received with much enthusiasm.  

It took a few re-designs to get them right (phase one creatures resembled muppets, not owls) but by the end they were sufficiently wise-looking.  I don’t suggest you make them yourself because frankly you probably have better things to do with your time, but here's the shortbread recipe I used, which is  actually quite simple.  Eat them plain, dip them in dark chocolate, or by all means, turn the little suckers into owls if you want.  Just don't say I did warn you.  

Hoot.  

Danger Chocolate.

If I had a nine year-old daughter who came to me and said "I'm going to be an expired Hershey bar for Halloween," I would fist-pump the air, high-five her Dad, and know she was destined for greatness.  

My friend Carey's parents experienced just that, and while I don't know how they reacted, the latter part has proven true.  Happy Belated Halloween, Carey.  I wish I'd known you as a kid.

Please note, this bar expired in 1972.  That's some bad-ass chocolate.