Did I ever tell you about the time I filmed a TV commercial?!

I had been keeping it a little secret but now it’s time as at any moment you may be seeing my face plastered over your tv, if you haven’t already.

I wanted to give you a glimpse of what it looked like from my perspective. A little behind the scene, if you will.

First, let’s start with how it all came about. I was contacted by a research company through my blog. They had asked if I would be willing to test out an unnamed dish washing detergent, if I agreed they would send a free sample pack. Sold.

I knew from the beginning that there was a possibility of my mug ending up on tv but it was a long shot and honestly I was satisfied with the opportunity to sample some new detergent. Since becoming a mom and having to run the dishwasher multiple times a day I’ve come to realize that it’s the little triumphs throughout the day that make life easier. Clean dishes is indeed one of those triumphs.

Within a couple of days I received the product. I had stockpiled some dishes – you know, for research’s sake, not due to laziness. I followed the instructions that read, “Do not pre-rinse.” I put some of my most difficult dirty dishes to the test. A pan that was coated thick with dried-on egg, a pot that had simmered cowboy beans all day and was left over night so that the interior of the pan was no longer visible and what remained was a thick coating of petrified beans. And a large dutch-oven that had spend the whole day braising pork shoulder.

photo by gabe

From the moment I opened up the dishwasher that ran with the sample detergent, I was sold. Dishes that typically sat in the sink all day to soak were now spotless having simply placed them in the dishwasher straight from the stove.

I tested the product for one week with each load I broke all the cardinal sins of how to properly clean dishes. I overloaded, I left crusty food on the plates, I didn’t soak the red dyed wine glasses or pre-scrub the ring of dried coffee stains that marks most of our mugs by the end of one day. The consistency remained. The moment the dishwasher hushed marking the end of its cycle I eagerly opened its door, letting the last moments of the drying cycle fog my glasses. And every time I was impressed. My wine glasses shimmered like I never knew they could and that dreaded egg pan that has caused many rifts in my marriage as we casually argued over who would have egg-pan-clean-up duty came out egg-free. Marriage saved.

Over a skype-interview with the research company I gave an honest and glowing review. In the background the kids were competing for my attention and the dishwasher was running its second load of the day.

A few days later I was informed that I had been selected to be in the commercial for this product.

Wha?!

From that point it was a whirlwind. One week later we all met at my parent’s house (where we host many of our cooking classes) to film. At 6 am I woke up and looked out the window to see a swarm of people unloading a large moving truck filled with lighting equipment. I went back in bed and soaked in that moment and prayed that I would stop shaking by the time the girl with the black and white marker snapped that slate and called “action”.

The crew was immensely kind, calming my nerves and encouraging me even though I was a bit camera-awkward. I wasn’t given a script. Everything that I said was sincere as I talked about my experience during the week of testing.

The most thrilling part of the day was that my brother, a very talented cinematographer, was manning the second camera. There was one point where it felt like it was just my brother and I, even though there were twenty others standing close by.

He was filming me as I was taking pictures of a salad I had just composed. He directed me to “stand-up then slowly crouch down while taking pictures.” As I snapped away my mind flashed to him as a 12-year-old running around the house with my dad’s giant camcorder. He was filming me then as he was now. I was a shy child but loved any chance to be center stage. We were filming a mock newscast. I was the journalist on the scene interviewing my dad about whatever dramatic news worthy event we had made-up.

That broadcast clings in my memory as a rare moment when I wasn’t just his pesky younger sister that constantly tried to vie for his attention and in the process would completely annoy him (I get it, I was pesky). He’s five years older, with that age gap I always looked up to him for guidance and lessons in all things “cool”. My entire life, even now as I’m 29 and he’s 34, I look to him for his thumbs up. In adulthood I have tried to step out of the shadow of little sister and into the realm of equal, friend, and simply sister. Now, I am happy to call my brother a friend.

In that moment during the shoot we were both living out childhood fantasies. We were working together, as peers. He was fulfilling his calling and I was doing something that I love. In that moment we had the rare opportunity for our paths to collide – I felt that same giddy joy as I did when I was 7.

In an instant it was done. Gabe and I quickly packed up our family and left for Seattle as I had to rush back to teach a class that night.

As quickly as it all happened it was over and it felt like a dream. Since that day I have continually asked myself, “did that really happen?” But now as it airs I am once again faced with the nervous shakes and praying for them to subside as I did on my bed that morning.

I am so grateful for the opportunity and I stand behind the product that is the star of the commercial. I’m afraid, however, that I may have been caught with the bug. The being-in-front-of-a-camera bug. That’s not true, that bug has always been in there but I suppressed it. Everyday life seems just so mundane. I’m only kidding, mostly. I am so honored to have been a part and thankful to the crew for making it such a fun day and for my family who happily played with my children enabling me to have some fun in front of a camera.

This is something I have never done before. Rarely do I promote a product on the blog, unless it is something that I love. Which is the very reason why I agreed to do the commercial. The majority of my day is spent caring for a family of five. Much of that is cleaning up after them, which I’ll be honest, I’m a horrible cleaner. Dishes pile up, as does the laundry and the long list of items to be dusted, scrubbed, put away and swept up.  Anything that can make that burden slightly lighter I will cling on to. I know I am not alone in this and felt that you all should know that this product, Finish Quantum, works incredibly well. It has replaced my old detergent and I have no intention of going back. It makes my job a little easier and helps me quickly get back to the job of dirtying dishes – which I enjoy doing and do it quite well.

The commercial.

Disclosure: Opinion expressed prior to disclosure of manufacturer and product “Finish Quantum®”. Appeared in a TV commercial after product use. Compensated for endorsement.

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It seems an utter shame that so many restaurants continue to utilize table salt as the means by which we diners salt our food. Maybe their hope is that the food is perfectly seasoned when it lands in front of you. And quite often it is. There are times, however, when I find myself in need of a light dusting of salt but table salt will not do. It’s harsh and unrelenting saltiness hides the subtle flavors the chef worked so hard to create. It’s like covering “Water Lillies” in gauze. It’s beauty is still seen but only through an obtrusive mask that hides the bold bush strokes and brilliant colors that reveal Monet’s genius. It’s like a slap in the face when all you want is a hug.

My solution to this salty dilemma is a contact case. I do not intend for you to cover your food in the saline solution used to clean your contacts but rather house a small amount of Maldon Sea Salt on one side and perhaps Fleur De Selon the other. Or maybe a Murray River Pink Salt is more your style.

This may must be the most pretentious post yet but you will forgive me the next time you’re at a fine restaurant eager to savor a brilliantly crafted dish only to find it’s under-seasoned. A few flakes of Maldon and your dinner is saved.

The contact case is an inconspicuous vessel to house these fine salts. Perfectly seasoned food without offending the chef.

This case is another beautiful option.

It was given to me by my dear friend Julie (partner-in-crime in all things cooking class related) who found it at a gift shop near the Grand Canyon. We also think another great option would be those pill cases that have an individual slot for each day of the week – just think of all your salt options!

This concludes my most persnickety post to date. I apologize for the snobbery but you must know by now that I have a thing for salt. I never go without it.

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Yes that’s me in the middle holding up my freshly plucked duck.

See that smile? I’m quite proud of myself.

On that day I killed my dinner. It’s hard to say that without sounding sadistic especially paired with that huge smile sprawled across my face.

It was Duckfest that led me to my first experience with slaughtering. A weekend where an intimate group gathered on a small island in the San Juans with a common passion for food, desire for duck and insatiable hunt for knowledge. In this weekend we followed our food from the ground on which it lived to the table where it was served.

The group was led by Neal Foley (@podchef) and Kate Hill (@katedecamont). Kate runs a culinary retreat on her farm in Gascony in the south of France. Neal provided the home, the baked goods and the ducks. Kate brought with her a fast knowledge of cooking with duck and the recipe for Cassoulet – a peasant dish consisting of white beans and several different types of meat including duck confit. Both of our hosts provided a passionate knowledge that continues to inspire me now, almost a year later.

We started off our days with warm baked goods laden with fresh jersey cream so thick it required the use of an ice cream scoop to remove it from the jar. The milk we added to our freshly roasted coffee was gently persuaded from the cow just hours before.

On the morning of the slaughter we ate cinnamon rolls. A nervous anxiousness wafted through the room mingling with the smell of sweet cinnamon. Our minds raced with varied expectations.

“It’s a necessity of life to kill and eat. Something has to die for us to eat.” Kate told us as we watched nervously. The process of taking life to food was quick and inherently natural. “It should be slightly dis-concerning when you kill something.” Kate continued. And it was.

Great care was taken to ensure that the ducks stayed calm as calm animal dies quicker.

Leading up to this moment I had no idea I would eagerly step up and volunteer myself to kill a duck. But as I observed the entire process I felt a sense of duty to participate. Not duty imparted on my fellow Duckfest attendees or my gracious hosts but duty put on myself as one who lives so passionately for food.

With one quick swoop of an impeccably sharp boning knife and a dip in a hot bath to help with the plucking of the feathers – we had food.

The rest of our time at Duckfest was used to honor the life of these ducks by making the most delectable pates, rilettes and confit. We used every part of these birds minus the feathers. Our group gathered around a large newspaper covered table taking great care picking every last bit of meat off of their tiny ribs.

Nothing was wasted.

Seeing the entire process – from life to dinner – and all the steps in between made each bite memorable.

The meal that brought us to this place was the Cassoulet. We had spent days building its components. We watched aromatics perfume the cooking liquid that bathed the beans and gave them their perfect velvet texture. Duck parts gently simmered in its own fat for the confit. And before we had even got to the island Neal had spent months preparing the ducks (watch his video series on what it takes to raise a duck) and making the homemade rind and pork sausages for the Cassoulet.

Our last night on the island we feasted on this Cassoulet. We joyously recounted all that this weekend gave us and what we will take with us from the experience. At the end of the meal, with smiles, tapping feet and clapping hands we listened to a few of our fellow diners play melodiously play the flute and mandoline as the smell of duck fat still lingered. We were full of food and joy.

In this one weekend I ate incredible food, met like-minded food lovers, learned from a seasoned farmer and a talented cook, and most important for me was walking away with a heightened appreciation for every single piece of real food that I eat and prepare. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly.

If you are interested in attending Duckfest your time has come.

From Kate’s Blog:

“If you want to learn to grow, kill, cook and eat your food, find a way to marry farm and table, learn the Farmways as practiced by a single passionate farmer and a dedicated cook practicing the Frenchways, or just eat some outstanding good food, then come ‘walk the walk’ with us, the Duckfest Walk at Claddagh Farm on Dec 3-5.”

I highly encourage you to sign up.

Photos courtesy of GabrielBoone.com

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Like so many of us do, I tried to be the woman who could do it all; maintain a fairly clean home, keep the laundry pile at a level that wouldn’t swallow up one of the children if they happen to fall in it, be helpful to a very busy husband, play happily with my children and provide meals that consisted of more than just leftover Halloween candy.

Most days I do this job joyfully. I adore my family and love being a wife and mother.  I also know myself enough to know that I need a break. Even if it’s an hour or two in the middle of the week to get away, pray, breathe and create something that doesn’t require Elmer’s glue and kid’s scissors. I need that. For me to continue to be the woman that God has called me to be I need that time away.

Many weeks I just try to power through. I convince myself that I can do it. Life is so busy and demanding that often it is that hour or two that is the only flexible item on our calendar. I let it slide and rely on my own strength to keep it together and I always fail.

I reach a breaking point. Which is where I found myself this week. Too many days without a moment taken to step away, re-evaluate and appreciate.  Throw in some postpartum hormone craziness and I found myself in a dark place.

Let me take a moment to explain why I want to share this with you. Usually this blog is my happy place. A place for me focus on all that is good in my life and for me to share with you my passion and joy. I am so blessed, but I’m also human, imperfect and I struggle. I want this to be a place of vulnerability and honesty because through that we can learn from and inspire one another.

Postpartum depression is very real and I hope and pray that my vulnerability and willingness to share this part of my journey will give words to the emotions and feelings that so many mothers have. I’m speaking to myself when I say it’s not something to push aside and try to deal with alone.

I let myself sink deeper into a dark pit of self-doubt, insecurity and feelings of inadequacy. I felt as if I was a hollow shell of a human, going through the motions with no feelings of hope or creativity that usually ignite me. I had nothing to give, no words to speak and no sense of purpose.

This isn’t the first time I have felt this way. It’s never easy but I always walk away stronger and more knowledgeable as to how to deal with it.

The path out of this pit looks different for everyone and is different for every circumstance. I’m still on that road but there have been a few steps taken that have really helped bring me back from the edge.

As hard as it was I admitted this feelings and made them a reality by becoming vulnerable to a couple people who love me very much. This has helped me to feel understood and to see that I’m not alone, I’m surrounded by love and now I have some accountability.

Most important for me on this journey is that I love and serve a God who loves me. I know that it is not by my strength but through His that I can do my job and do it well to His glory. Even in that, I know that depression is so often not a battle of the spirit but an actual chemical imbalance that benefits from modern medicine. I’m not belittling that one bit as I have in the past used such medication. I am merely speaking to the path that I am on right now and how I am finding my hope again.

I know that I am emerging from that dark place when I feel tinges of inspiration. I look at a photo, a painting or a recipe and my heart leaps with excitement. I live for these bursts of creativity and the joy I get from seeing others create from their passion and doing the same myself.

By God’s grace I have been inundated with a bountiful collection of stunning cookbooks lately. Some I’ve purchased myself and some have been gifted to me from publishers with the hope that I would share them with you. I don’t often do recommendations on my site but I just can’t let you spend one more day without these books in your life.

For me they have been a source of joy as I flip through their pages and immediately begin to create grocery lists to recreate the recipes. The author’s words have refueled my passion and have inspired me to both pick up the spoon to stir the pot and the pen to write.

It is so important for us to continually refresh ourselves with the works of other artists and creators. Taking time to dream, refresh and to remember what it is that ignites us.

I am so thankful for these fellow artists. Through their joy they are helping me to rediscover mine.

Around My French Table: More Than 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours

Excuse me while I gush like a teenage girl that just met Justin Bieber. Recently I had the great pleasure of meeting Dorie Greenspan. After meeting Dorie I decided that I wanted to be like her when I grow up. Not only is she a baking and cooking genius but she is gracious, inspiring and just so darn cute in her uber modern glasses. Her passion is infectious.

The recipes in her latest book are accessible, inventive and suitable for both weekday meals and weekend entertaining. I’ve already tried her recipes for Waffles and Cream, Vietnamese Chicken Soup and Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good. The book is filled with creased corners of future recipes I am eager to try.

Heart of the Artichoke and Other Kitchen Journeys

I had heard so much wonderful praise for David Tanis’ first book, A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes, but I have yet to get it. It’s back in the #1 position on my wish list after pouring through his latest book, Heart of the Artichoke. This book is stunning. The images, the page layouts, the font, the feel of the pages – everything about it, visually, makes me weak in the knees.

I can’t speak of the recipes yet, as I just received this book and have yet to cook from it but pages have been tagged and meals are being planned. Trust me, you will hear of this book again on this blog.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef

I have been so excited for this book to come out. Shauna and Danny are incredibly passionate, joyful, loving and talented. I am so honored to be able to call them friends.

In the past week I have spent several evenings immersed in Shauna’s poetic words as she intimately describes her and Danny’s story. She writes with such grace and beauty that she manages to make even a proposal that was quickly followed by a fart seem like a perfectly romantic moment fit for any movie screen.

These essays tie together 100 recipes that create a delicious love story. I’m very excited to try the smoked-salt caramel ice cream and the blue cheese cheesecake with fig crust – among many others.

The book was beautifully photographed by Lara Ferroni.

Salted: A Manifesto on the World’s Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes

It’s quite obvious that I have a thing for salt. So of course I’m in love with a book that is solely dedicated to this essential ingredient. Most everything you could ever want and need to know about salt and all it’s various forms is in this gorgeous book.

It is written and photographed by the owners of The Meadow, a delightful store in Portland (now New York as well) that sells salt, wine, chocolate and flowers.

I am now convinced more than ever that I need to own a salt block – I mean come on, who doesn’t?! Or how about a Himalayan salt bowl to serve chocolate fondue out of? Yes, please.

These books have been such a gift to me recently. They’ve led me back into the kitchen, inspired me to take beautiful images and have me dreaming of the book(s) I hope to create some day.

I appreciate you taking the time to read this. Being so vulnerable in this space has been a challenge for me but I trust that this is a subject that needs to be out in the open and you kind folks have supported and encouraged me through so many of my life’s ups and downs, I feel safe.

I’d love to hear what inspires you and pulls you out from your dark days.

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