Recently in David’s Favorite Posts category

Showgirl Cupcakes

(I recent met Bryce Corbett, who wrote A Town Like Paris, a book about his life in Paris, where he found the girl of his dreams. Since he’s a terrific writer, I asked him to do a guest post, which included our visit behind-the-scenes at one of Paris’ most exciting attractions. -David)

There are many fringe benefits to being married to a Paris showgirl.

shay blog

Great tables at exclusive restaurants, never being called upon to fetch that hard-to-reach bowl from the top shelf (have you seen how tall these girls are?) and always stepping out with someone who knows how to accessorize with feathers (truly an underrated virtue in a woman).

But it’s safe to say that the greatest fringe benefit to having a showgirl wife is also one that you’d probably least expect: She makes the most amazing cupcakes.

Now at first blush, you’d be forgiven for thinking that a woman who high-kicks on the Champs Elysées each night in feathers, sequins and not much else would have a natural aversion to baked goods. You would imagine that eating like a glutton and baking like a demon would be two practices well and truly off-limits to your average showgirl.

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Triple Chocolate Scotcheroos

scotcheroos

Some people, when they travel, they look for hotels with amenities like spas or room service. Others look for hotels near restaurants or local attractions. Me? I look for ones near supermarkets. And on my recent trip through the states, my traveling companion was shocked that I’d managed to pack 3 empty suitcase into one larger one, the limit of our collective baggage allowance.

Not to mention our two carry-ons—”someone” was ready for some serious shopping…

I’ve been dying to make a batch of Scotcheroos for a long time and although I’ve become pretty adept at finding substitutions for American ingredients here in Paris, butterscotch chips had me scratching me head.

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Food Bloggers on Columbus Isle, the Bahamas

On my vacation, I loved posting updates about what I was doing, but I’m sure you can understand that I wasn’t all that keen on sitting in my room slouched over my laptop. Yes, I love and missed you all.

However every relationship has its limits. And there was something more important standing between you and I:

drinks

But on the 9+ hour plane ride home, I didn’t have much to do…especially since the in-flight entertainment was non-functional…so I gathered up my photos and wrote a lengthy wrap-up of the trip. And as soon as I got home, I published the story and pictures, only to check back a few minutes later and find that half the post was missing.

And no, not the part with the thong. You’re not getting off that easily. I’ll get to that later…

club med huts

Like the inhabitants of a tropical island on LOST, my post was equally without bearings, floating out there on the internet somewhere, adrift and listless, where no one could find it. So I cobbled it back together the best I could, republished it and poof!&mdashed;vanished again. Like the folks who follow that program, I’m sure I could start some sort of conspiracy theory about why it’s happening, but I think I should just move on and hope the third time’s a charm.

And if I keep comparing my blog to LOST, my part better not be played by the doctor-guy, because if it was, do you think I’d be rewriting my post? I’d be staring at myself in the mirror instead.

palmtrees

The note arrived in January, just as winter was wearing me down, an invitation to head with some of my favorite people to the Bahamas. In the history of Gmail, I don’t think anyone’s ever hit the ‘Reply‘ button so fast.

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French Train Mix

A lot of people love to travel. I am not one of them.

Sure I love wandering through exotic markets, exploring restaurants in new cities, and sitting under an umbrella on the beach. But the hard part for me to deal with is getting there. I know that travel used to be romantic and fun, but it’s not anymore. And people like the whiny woman sitting across the aisle from me who just couldn’t believe that her enormous suitcase won’t fit in the overhead bin just above her seat and was refusing to put it elsewhere, doesn’t add to the allure.

bag of mix

The main thing I don’t like about travel is this: I don’t like being uncomfortable. I don’t like being trapped in a plane, unable to move (even when seated), I never sleep well unless I’m in my own bed, and call me crazy, but I like the option of going to the bathroom when I need to go to the bathroom. I’d make a horrible prisoner. And after fifteen minutes trapped in my seat, one can only read about electric butter slicers, portable water washers, and the latest in nose-hair removal technology so many times in the Sky Mall catalog.

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Braised Short Ribs Recipe

ribs

When I was in the states last year, I was in a coffee shop and for some reason, the conversation with the folks turned to what I was doing in their city. I’m not sure how they knew I wasn’t from around there, but I can only assume it was my startlingly-good French accent, which is always a sure give-away. I mentioned I was a cook and was taping a television segment.

Right then, stopping the conversation, the woman who owned the shop asked me, “Are you the David Lieberman?”

Okay, before you get your panties in a knot, in my defense, I’ve had my name butchered to death on more than on occasion and we both cook and write cookbooks. So I said, “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

The next day when I stopped in again for my coffee, the same woman ran up to me, excitedly, “Oooh David, my friends were so excited that I met David Lieberman!” While I was thrilled to have someone happy to meet me, I’d never had someone that excited.

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89 random things about me

Over on Facebook, there’s been a thing going around called 25 random things about me. Inspired by Pim posting hers, I thought I’d do the same.

Except I got carried away, editing and adding a few more.

1. When I started my blog, I wished I have done it anonymously so I could really say what I wanted to say. Now I’m glad I didn’t, because I can actually say what I want to say, and stand behind it, too.

2. Whenever someone who smokes shrugs and says to me, “I don’t care. When it’s time for me to die, it’s time for me to die”, I wonder if they’ll say the same thing when their larynx is removed and they’ll have to say that through a hole in their throat.

3. I am very proud of all the Americans who started small-batch chocolate companies. I think it’s one of our proudest achievements and sums up the best qualities of America.

4. When people ask me how do I stay so thin, it seems like common sense that the answer is because I do the opposite of what people do who become fat.

5. If I have cookies around, I will eat at least one first thing in the morning, before breakfast.

6. I think Flickr is the best-conceived, and best-used, site on the internet. I hope it never changes.

7. I hate being served breakfast. Especially in fancy hotels. I’d rather stay in a dump than face a lavish hotel breakfast and fawning waiters in the morning.

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Why and When To Use (or Not Use) Corn Syrup

corn syrup

Because this comes up frequently, I’d like to take a moment to explain why and when one uses corn syrup in recipes. I use it judiciously, when I feel it will make a discernible difference in a recipe. For those of you who are regular readers of the site and my books, you’ll notice almost all of the time, I hardly ever use pre-packaged or convenience foods in my baking. So when I do call for something, like corn syrup, it’ll often be in amounts of one teaspoon or a tablespoon. And since most recipes feed eight-to-twelve people, proportionally, that’s a pretty small amount.

For example, the recipe for Peanut Butter Cookies with Salted Butter Caramel has one tablespoon of corn syrup added to the caramel, to keep it smooth. Since the recipe makes fifty cookies, that means each cookie contains less than 1/16th of a teaspoon of corn syrup.

Yes, people who live in America probably do eat too much corn syrup.

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Gougères: A Recipe for French Cheese Puffs

gougères

One thing I learned during the last few days of the past year could be summed up in four words: Don’t ever turn fifty.

Do whatever you can do to avoid it. I’m still reeling from the trifecta, the one-two-three punch of Christmas, my Birthday, then New Year’s Eve, the last of which put me way over the top. And now that I’m in my declining years, recovery is much harder than it was just a mere week ago. I’m going downhill, fast, my friends.

The first thing I thought when I woke up this morning, my head clouded by a combination of Krug champagne, Château Lafite Rothchild 1964 and 1969 (not that I know the difference, but since the ’69 was in a 4-bottle, a gigantic double magnum with a funky-looking label…I knew we were drinking something special) was right from the “What on earth was I thinking?” file.

I was wondering why I invited five people over for dinner and drinks tonight.

Continue Reading Gougères: A Recipe for French Cheese Puffs…