Death by office fruitcake

What would you eat off the kitchen counter?

Office dragonfruit

Our office

If Christmas carols can claim that December is the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, it implies the existence of a Least Wonderful Time of the Year, and that time, ladies and gents, is now. I don’t know about you, but I am feeling very much like This is Fine Dog, and I have assigned myself the unpleasant task of setting out some fires that I’ve been ignoring for the past three months (hence the lack of newsletter last week). Anyyyyways, here, have some tropical fruit! It was sent to our office as part of a health insurance perk (aka scam, probs). Doesn’t it make you feel so fresh and healthy? Like you’re almost on vacation somewhere sunny? Eating exotic foods?* The dragon fruit is certainly impressive to look at, bright magenta, with soft spikes that look like a work of photoshop art. Never mind that it tastes like bland kiwi.  

*What is exotic, anyways? Exotic to whom? Cancel this word.

Mystery office fruitcake (that I did not eat)

Our office

People keep sending fruitcakes to our office and I’m not sure if it’s because they love the work we do or they really hate it. One of these fruitcakes was especially noteworthy. I can only describe it to you as a food-colored fever dream. Like, I truly do not know how to explain to you why this supposedly edible dessert formed of neon green and red candied fruit contained, and I quote, “five items embedded in this cake,” including what appeared to be a bubblegum pink plastic brain, a rubber cockroach, and a toy coin. Also, the sheet of paper that came with the fruitcake warned that, although the coin was securely wrapped in candy foil, “the coin itself may contain base metals and trace amounts of lead.” “So please don’t put it in your mouth,” the instructions concluded, a statement I always want to hear from my food. If someone’s trying to mess with democracy by poisoning the newsroom, at least they’re doing it in a creative and consensual way.

Instant Pot chicken orzo soup at my kitchen

Make this in yours, too!

First: Anyone who owns an Instant Pot (™) knows that it’s really not that instant. Somehow, something with a cook time of 20 minutes ends up taking an hour and a half. I’m perfectly okay with that, because I love the results that pressure cookers deliver, and the fact that it forces me to be hands off (do you tend to fux with your food as it’s stewing? Well, now it’s a pressure bomb and you literally can’t peek at it!). I especially like it for soups and stews. This recipe from the Food Network has less than 10 ingredients in it and results in a soup so simple but silky and rich that it almost feels like I can finally conquer the January flu-cold combo I’ve been fighting for two weeks. Some tips: Always add more garlic, more dill and more salt than you think you need, and I used half a bag of orzo instead of noodles because that was all I had.

Kerrygold butter at my desk

Available at most grocery stores

Is there anything more comforting than toast (slightly burnt, please) with thick slabs of salty butter and sweet jam (never reduced sugar or that fruit spread stuff!)? I have needed a lot of comfort lately (see: sick) and I can report to you that no, there is not. Toast with butter and jam is fantastic even with the flimsiest sliced bread and discount butter, but if you upgrade one thing* in this mix, spring for the Kerrygold. Fun fact: In Mandarin, butter is huángyóu — roughly “yellow fat” — which never made sense to me as a kid because most of the butter I saw was so pale it is almost white. Not a problem with Kerrygold, which lives up to its name, and is really nice and soft even when cold, to boot.

*Sophie’s shortlist of things you should splurge on: Butter, fancy chocolate, matcha. Things you should not: Red wine (my favorite bottle is $11), bourbon (Four Roses forever).

Pork meatballs with spicy marinara sauce at Black Mountain Wine House

415 Union St, Brooklyn, NY 11231

According to superb wine-ing companion Ruthie, Black Mountain Wine House was the epitome of what it meant to be 30 to her 20-something self. It’s in a quiet part (well, all the parts are quiet) of Carroll Gardens. The bar is a size Brooklyn small but Manhattan large, aka perfectly cozy, with wooden tables, quiet conversation*, and dim lighting. There’s an extensive wine list, and a great food menu. A bonus is that all food items are $12, something my numbers OCD is a fan of. I asked the waiter which was his favorite and ended up with the pork meatballs; he was not wrong. The meatballs (four to a platter, with an ample puddle of red sauce) are melt-in-your-mouth tender while still being filling enough as a light dinner. A great place for a date, romantic or platonic.

*At least two of them discussing egg-freezing and polyamory, because, well, Brooklyn.

A bientôt,
Soph