Rustic Glam Baby Shower in 8 Steps

What do you get when you cross a low maintenance pregnant couple, autumnal decorations, and a slew of talented friends? A Rustic Glam Baby Shower, that’s what. You probably know by now that Marthable’s very own Susan Howson has – in addition to her usual array of actual baked goods – the other kind of bun in the oven. Check it out!

How cute is this? Is she even pregnant?

Earlier this month, we threw a shower for Susan and her baby daddy Cam. Here’s how it went, in eight easy steps.

Step #1: Conception. Success! Good job, guys.

Step #2: Location/Date. Val and Ross offered up their lovely northside home, and we decided to hold the shower during month 8 so that a.) Susan and Cam would have plenty of time to figure out what in the heck they needed, b.) the party committee would have plenty of time to plan, and c.) Susan would be super pregnant, making for cuter pics. We all know, however, that the true host was JR.

"We are hosting this thing!"

Step #3: Recruit. At a noisy bar one night back in July, Amanda, Anne and Kate enthusiastically agreed to help out, although no one could hear anyone else, so for all they knew they were signing up to go to Kings Dominion the next day. Fortunately, when approached again in the harsh light of day, they were still game. Victoria and Lauren also offered their services.

Step #3b: Delegate. Amanda headed up the Food Committee (as well as did a million other things), and Emily and Chris agreed to provide a backdrop and props for our DIY photo booth, as well as extra photography of the party. (In full disclosure, I recruited Emily and Chris just two weeks ahead of time, for which they are probably still cursing my name. Thanks again, LaCroixes!) Decorations and favors were my job, with critical support from Team Roanoke, which spent an afternoon at my house painting pumpkins and shoveling spices into cheesecloth.

"I am out of my comfort zone but still manage to look adorable!"

"I am in my comfort zone and also look adorable!"

Step #4: Theme (or not). Given that this was to be a co-ed shower and that Susan is not a pastel colored/themed shower kind of girl, we decided to capitalize on the season and throw a Rustic Glam shower. This basically means take the pumpkins, pine cones, and gourds that you already have this time of year, spray paint them gold, cover them in glitter, and place them all around the party. if you happen to have some deer antlers and a bunch of feathers on hand, throw those in too. We weren’t entirely sure how it would all look, but it turns out that fall decorations are a perfect glam canvas and nicely complimented Cam and Susan’s vision of a family-friendly party with lots of delicious homemade food and autumnal drinks.

Val and Ross's mantel already sported some sweet brass candlesticks, seasonal gourds, and a great wreath. We added the gold pumpkins, which spelled B-A-B-Y in glitter, some mini pumpkins dunked in glitter, feathers and fall foliage, and a gold garland.

An embarrassing # of items in this centerpiece belong to me.

Glittered letters on a ribbon hung from the front door knocker. I've threatened to make Susan wear this across her chest while giving birth.

Step #5: Favors. This was a difficult one. We were expecting 40+ people, and decent favors aren’t cheap. One hundred Etsy searches later, I had almost given up hope until I stumbled upon this other rustic glam baby shower, which a.) made me feel highly inadequate, and b.) inspired this idea: because we planned to serve mulled cider at the shower, wouldn’t our guests like some mulling spices of their very own?  And a new mug from which to drink cider? I wasn’t sure, but I was intent on ripping off at least one idea from this girl.

And so, I bought mugs from the dollar store, mixed up some nutmeg, orange peel, and cloves, and wrapped a tablespoon of the mix in cheesecloth tied with kitchen twine  (way cheaper than individual bags). Each mug got a spice sachet and a cinnamon stick, then was wrapped in cellophane and tied with ribbons, feathers, and a piece of card stock instructing each guest to, well, “Mull.” Pro tip: For a co-ed, kid-friendly shower, only make enough favors for half of the guests. Parents with small children don’t necessarily want more stuff to carry.

I didn't include instructions in these. Hopefully everyone has figured out by now that you throw these spices into a crock pot or saucepan, pour store-bought apple cider over them, and warm on low heat.

Step #6: Food. Amanda came up with a delicious menu that included deviled eggs, polenta bites, crostini, finger sandwiches (watercress, salmon, ham), fresh fruit, crudite, madeleines, macaroons, and lemon bars. Not surprisingly, the Food Committee knocked this out of the park.

The "tablecloth" is a remnant from U-Fab.

We used our own plates and some Val found secondhand. Glassware also came from our own cabinets, and none of the food required utensils, so this party generated very little trash.

Step #7: Activity. Chris and Emily tacked up a remnant, laid out some fun props, left out a camera on a chair, and bam: DIY PHOTO BOOTH! Kids and adults alike love this, and it’s less intrusive and time intensive than baby shower games. We also set out a book for Baby Messages, which continues to circulate among showers and family gatherings and says god knows what.

Step #8: Shower! Arrive early, decorate, play with the hosts’ adorable child (and ask him nicely if he’ll share his toys with the 10 kids that will descend upon his house later), try not to spill glitter all over their house, warm the cider, assemble last minute snacks, glitter last minute pumpkins, construct photo booth, and put a paper and pen near the gifts for note taking (NOT in your purse way up in the coat room). Then pour yourself a mug of cider, add a drop or two of bourbon, sit back, and enjoy the party.

Congrats, Susan and Cam!

Deny fall with a delicious zucchini cake

Martha fervor always falls off a little during summer in these parts. There’s too much to do and not enough time to do it, and also… well, it’s hot here and I get lazy. But one Marthadventure stood out as an easy, delicious, and stunning dessert that I will graciously accept as an apology for those damn cookies.

If you’ve come across a late crop of zucchini, shred it up and stick it in this cake. If not, save this recipe for next year.

Zucchini Bundt Cake! Or as it should be called, Zucchini-Orange Glazed Amazing Heaven.

I know what you’re saying. Susan, what a beautiful ruffly topping of candied zucchini! It simply must be the most delectable thing ever, if it looks so good. My tasters, lucky bastards, disagreed, and I am in their camp. The candied zucchini is actually easier to make than you’d think. Get out a mandoline (I replaced my death-trap OXO version recently with a simple plastic handheld one. It’s sharper and therefore safer — really — and I have yet to slice off part of my thumb with this one, so it’s got that going for it too) and make some nice lengthy slices, then boil them in sugar water for awhile and drain on some cooling racks.

Easy! But not that tasty. Sort of a sickly sweet but still vegetabley taste that doesn’t keep well. Not that you’ll have this cake around for long, but if you plan to keep it longer than the party you’re bringing it to, I’d advise against. They get slimy and weird and the cake is good enough without them.

As usual, I substituted white whole-wheat flour for the white flour. In a cake as dense as this, it doesn’t make a difference and it’s way healthier. Repeat after me: white flour has no nutritional value and barely gets to count as real food. When you can substitute a whole grain, do so. It almost always makes it taste more interesting anyway.

That said, I did NOT omit the glaze, which you could do also, if you were trying to save yourself from wonderful gluttonous oblivion.

 

 

MSL, with the assist!

The September Living might be the “home” issue, but so far to me it’s been the “issue of do-able recipes.” Beginning on page 152, Martha lays out a batch of dinner recipes that can be made in just one pan. I REALIZE that this concept is not new, but we’re talking about MSL, a magazine that measures the success of its recipes by their use of every pot, pan and implement in your kitchen. I don’t know how Sarah Carey slipped these by her boss, but I’m glad she did.

Dirty Little Secret Alert: I don’t enjoy cooking dinner on weeknights and very often do not. The timing just doesn’t work. By the time I get home and turn on the stove, it’s like 8:30pm, and I want to be in bed reading by 10pm. This simply does not leave me sufficient time to cook a meal, catch up on episodes of Jersey Shore Charlie Rose, and clean up. Or often I have to attend an After Work Event, where I fill up on five pounds of chunk cheese and decide to power through until breakfast. This entire situation fills me with anxiety and guilt, mainly because my housemate picks up the slack. He considers it therapautic to cook a meal after a long day, whereas I prefer to cook when I have a good 2 – 3 hours to devote to the entire process.

But none of this matters any longer! MSL 9/2011 lays out some one-pan dinners that will solve all of my problems.  These aren’t cop-out meals either. You won’t find a “a packet of Lipton soup mix” on any of these ingredient lists. Instead, how does Baked Rice with Chorizo and Clams sound? Or Broiled Shrimp with Tomatoes and White Beans. Pretty good for a Tuesday night, right? We tried the Braised Chicken with Potatoes, Olives and Lemon, which was delicious, although I’d use two lemons instead of one.

Next, we’re doing Fried Eggs with Greens and Mushrooms, probably with mustard greens or kale, with Optional Sage-Chili Butter. (Why would that ever be optional?)

In fact, the only drawback of one-pan dinners is that they’re not that interesting to write about, so I’ll pay a little homage to this issue’s home focus. On page 144, the MSL team shows us how to jazz up our interior doors with painted shapes, upholstery tacks and wallpaper. At first I thought this was ridiculous but then I re-read it and reconsidered. I mean, how beautiful is this?

This issue also takes us inside Editor-in-Chief Pilar Guzman’s Brooklyn brownstone in all its Danish Modern “we love kids and their patina” glory, as well as a piece by Sharkey on monogrammed pillows, about which I want to write a snarky post but don’t want to offend my friend Beth, who is a monogram nut.

September, is that you already?

Baking like an American

Countrymen, I royally, revolutionarily screwed up during my annual 4^th of July baking spree. Each year, I spend that holiday of holidays cheerfully putting something delicious together for my friend Emily’s annual party. I enjoy the prep, I enjoy the party, I enjoy watching fireworks, and I enjoy thinking about the Founding Fathers.

This year, I’ve figured out something I don’t enjoy: being tricked into crafting when I want to be baking.

I'LL GIVE YOU SOME COLORS TO SHOW!

Martha’s July issue featured a bunch of cheerfully iced sugar cookies. “Show your colors!” it demanded, and I stupidly complied. My colors are red, white, and blue, just like everybody else’s, only I am best when I display them as raspberries and blueberries scattered across meringue or something.

But no, noooo. I had to try my hand at “edible painting,” which instilled within me a hatred of baking that lasted for a full week. I should have sensed danger when I read the ingredient list, which included “meringue powder” and “icings with special branded color names.”

Mixing up some "Frustrating Red"

I’m never getting food at a craft store again. So gross. First of all, the sugar cookies, while easy enough to make, tasted like big, bland poker chips. But that’s OK. The appeal for these babies is in the beautiful patriotic pinwheels on the top, which are just so, so precious that everyone will overlook the fact that they are eating chemicals that taste like…chemicals.

Well, not if your pinwheels look like they were the end result of an afternoon volunteering at your kid’s preschool, which is exactly what mine looked like. Only I don’t have kids, and now I’m seriously concerned about my future ability to deal with finger paint all over my house.

Unpatriotic BS

The problem lay in the consistency of the icing, which was too thick to work in the squeeze bottles they suggested. So I messily switched to pastry bags with tiny tips, figured out they were also inadequate because of the icing’s consistency. I thinned it down as best I could, used the stuff I had left after the bags and squeeze bottles were rejected, got out new bags, filled them again, bemoaned my stained hands/countertops/baking-reputation, and watched in horror as my fireworks turned into knobbly, stupid messes.

Verdict: Edible Craft Unworthy

This recipe is simply not worth it. By the time I sort of got the hang of it, I was out of icing and thoroughly steamed. And when I tasted one of the ones I had done and discovered how disgusting they were, the top of my head almost blew off with a firework display that would have had no trouble showing anyone my damn colors.

They may look passable in the picture, but the frosting never set up (commenters on marthastewart.com believe there is an issue with the recipe, which I’m sure resulted in some poor copyeditor being thrown into the charming Skylands dungeon), so they were untransportable anyway.

I brought some popsicles to the party and swore never to craft-bake again. None of this fussy, fiddly stuff. Let’s get some rustic cornmeal cakes in the July issue next time, you know, like the colonials (probably?) made (I guess?). Let’s bake like Americans, Martha. Come on.

Grim tidings we prefer to ignore

New York magazine has an extremely long yet interesting feature about ol’ what’s-her-name and the inner workings of her relationship with MSLO over the past decade.

While I resent the implications that “Martha is about baking apple pies” (Betty Crocker is about baking apple pies. Martha is about riding a horse to the place where apple pies are invented and demanding a variety of apple be named after her), I found it worth a read. I also found it terrifying.

Enjoy! (Thanks, Kenya!)

So Young, So Innocent, So Married

Look at what my awesome brother Dave found for me at a yard sale: Martha’s first book!

Behold, 1982 Martha: pre-divorce, pre-jail, pre-Kevin Sharkey.

I had heard of this book but never seen it, and boy does it deliver. It’s giant, hardbound and loaded with some fantastic Me Decade party ideas. I can totally picture Reagan-era people saying something like, “Won’t you please come to my Kitchen Salad Party for Thirty?” “Don’t forget to RSVP for the Midnight Omelette Party.” “What should I wear to Cindy’s luau next week?”

I’m not making this up. These are Actual Party Ideas, printed in this book, and they are pretty amazing. Who wouldn’t want to attend a “Neoclassical Dinner for Eight to Ten?” She covers buffets, desserts, even at-home weddings, AND you get to see her gardening in skimpy shorts.

WHOA.

1982 Martha is noticeably more humble, even though she already was massively wealthy, and she even gets a little folksy.

“…I hope to show that there are many ways of entertaining and that each ultimately depends not on pomp or show or elaborate technique, but on thought, effort and caring, much like friendship itself.”

Awwwww. Back atchya, 1982 Martha! (This book was ghostwritten, but I’d still like to believe that Martha personally threw in that line.)

Dark, rustic and ruffled.

Entertaining became a New York Times Bestseller and really put Martha on the map. Many more books followed. In 1989, she kicked her husband to the curb and got down to some serious empire-building, launching Martha Stewart Living the following year, etc.

I’m super fond of 1982 Martha, with her broad, genuine smile and innocent eyes and ruffles everywhere. She had no idea what lay ahead of her at that point. She simply wanted to share some knowledge, show off her newly renovated farmhouse, and make a little money. Her life was what every early-80s woman wanted. This is Martha before everything came crashing down, and she had to build it all back up again, before she became a brand name, before she realized how kick-ass she is, before Kevin Sharkey was even born.

I’m stoked to recreate these retro parties, starting with the Russian Buffet for Twenty Four of course, and will let you guys know how they turn out. Thanks, Dave!

The Lost Dinner

Woops, I forgot to post about a dinner that was not at all forgettable. Luckily, MSLO is getting less stingy about reprinting their recipes online. I say “luckily” because I went crazy recently and recycled every single issue of Living that had been proudly collecting dust on a growing number of bookshelves. There are just so many new things to gasp/scoff at in every new issue, that I found myself looking less and less at backissues in order to focus on the present. Plus, as my favorite food blogger, fellow Richmonder, and unofficial mentor reminded me, you can get those damn things at any library.

So come with me on a journey to a less encumbered future!

By first discussing the recent past!

I was lost, but now I am found.

So, back in April, we made March’s meal (going back even farther, you see), despite our initial confusion at a lasagna that contains lemon slices and a shared family repulsion of olives. Our husbands, with their Italian bloodlines, begged so eloquently and poured so many negronis, that we went ahead and put those Warm Marinated Olives together anyway. I’ll ignore the fact that a million leftover olives sat untouched in my fridge for a week.

What are we? In Italy? Ha!

The Sausage, Chard, and Lemon Lasagna posed no significant problems, except constant rechecks of the recipe to make sure I was actually supposed to include actual lemon slices within this lasagna. It was all true, and it turns out when you bake very thin lemon rind, it turns into something chewy and not too bitter, a nice complement to a creamy, spicy, sausagey sauce.

They wanted lemons!

Herbed Garlic Bread is a no-brainer as well as a sure crowd-pleaser (two qualities I myself aspire to attain). Make a compound butter with parsley or whatever you want, really, and stick it between two halves of a loaf of ciabatta. Or half a loaf. Then bake that sh*t, man! We gorged so much on the bread and heavy lasagna that we didn’t save any room for dessert.

Deliciously no-brained!

Jeff and Libby, our dinner guests on the following night (don’t be too impressed, we had pizza), humored us by trying out the Lost Dinner’s Lost Dessert, Lemon Sorbet with Prosecco. It’s like this: you scoop lemon sorbet in a cup…and then pour in Prosecco! Did that move too quickly for you? I’ll break it down:

Lemon Sorbet with Prosecco

1. Pour Prosecco over sorbet.

While it was a pleasant combo of tastes, I think we all got more enjoyment out of just drinking the pure, unadulterated leftover Prosecco. None of that fussing around with spoons or what have you. Just tip it right back!

Superfluous sorbet!

James announced that this dinner was the best one yet, but we hear that a lot from these dudes, who relish their cocktail-pouring job so much that they tend to like anything. I personally felt that it was delicious but a tad too rich.

I do think of that Weekend of Dinner Guests fondly, though, as all that Campari and Prosecco would turn out to be my last. I found out the following day that my next project (to be completed in December) is a new human who is almost sure to feel strongly about olives, one way or the other.

“Peaches, please eat!”

Each year, the hubs and I select a signature summer salad, and then make and eat that salad like crazy all summer long. We make big batches of it on the weekends and eat it all week. We take it to cookouts. We make it at the beach. Modifications are made and discussed at length. Things get competitive, but in a good way. Screw marriage counseling, people. Signature salads are the glue!

When Martha made this Peaches, Basil and Red Onion Salad on the Today show last week, we looked at each other with the type of wordless understanding that can only come from many years of living together. That evening, I came home and the salad was made, albeit with nectarines because it’s a bit too soon for glorious summer peaches. We paired it with tilapia, and it was magnificent, so good in fact that I forgot to take a photo before it was gone.

Also noteworthy: I’d never seen my housemate buy or eat nectarines or peaches before this salad came into our lives. When I was growing up, my mother would put peaches in a brown paper bag to ripen and write on the front in black marker, “Peaches. Please eat!”, in a vain attempt to get her four kids and husband to voluntarily eat fruit.  Now, I do the VERY SAME THING, although if this salad is lucky enough to be selected as the 2011 Bruno Summer Salad, I might not have to.

Dad, we (finally) have you pegged

Our dad loves to eat. I’ve never seen him refuse food. Ever. The man ate a three-course meal an hour after undergoing major surgery. When we were kids, he used to head up to bed with a stack of contraband Oreos in his shirt pocket. The staff at the Arby’s near our house knew him by name. You get the idea. He’s also increasingly difficult to buy gifts for. Not because he’s ungrateful, but because he has everything he needs. He just wants to hang with his kids, eat food, maybe watch the game. It’s taken us years of buying shirts and books and DVDs to figure this out.  For his 69th (and holding!) birthday this year, he was treated to a surprise visit from his eldest son and a lunch made by his stunning, talented  mild-mannered, unassuming daughters.

Mild-mannered. Unassuming. "..."

The Chicken, Fennel and Artichoke Fricasee in the April issue involves cutting up a whole chicken, which is traumatizing for everyone involved. But hey, whole chickens are an economical choice! A fresh, 4+ lb. Bel and Evans was just $10 at Ellwood Thompson’s and provides enough for 5 people, if two of those people eat like birds. (Ew. Weird, gross pun. Sorry.)

@susanthebutcher! (Ps - We are aware that we are cutting up raw chicken on a wood cutting board. Our mother received a stern talking to about this. How we survived childhood without several severe bouts of salmonella is a mystery.)

Once in pieces, you brown it along with some artichokes, fennel and onion, then add stock and braise for 20 minutes. Add a little red wine vinegar and parsley, and you have a lovely little dish fit for lunch in the French countryside, or in our case, Bon Air.

Fricasee!

Meanwhile, the crowd can snack on the Fava Bean and Goat Cheese Dip with Radishes. RADISHES, for which I now have a new level of respect. They work damn well as chips. What doesn’t work well is finding fava beans in Richmond, so we took Martha’s suggestion to use edamame as an alternate. (Pesky onlookers can be pressed into service shelling the beans once they’re boiled.)

Eldest Brother Dave: not a pesky onlooker

The end product is totally worth the effort, although we found it needs a tad more oil than the three tablespoons for which Martha calls. (Always skimping on that EVOO like a good New Englander, eh Martha?) The resulting dip is a pretty green color that looks great in dainty white china, of which our mom has plenty.

Radishes as crackers? Totally works!

Our major failure, because we always have to have one or we are required by our nonexisting contract to set all of our Living backissues on fire, was the Potato and Leek Galette with Watercress. It was an equipment issue, as we’d neglected to bring a non-stick skillet. “I do not have one of those,” Mom said (pretty haughtily for someone who keeps her grater in the garage, if you ask us). So the stuff on the bottom browned just fine, but the rest of it became a tangled, bland mass, unable to brown due to the thick crust of burnt material between it and the heat. Surely it’s all doable without the gross magic of Teflon, but Martha was not willing to lead us in that direction.

Obligatory failure

The dessert with this meal is supposed to be Poached Rhubarb with Elderflower Sabayon, but did we mention this was our dad’s birthday? He doesn’t want some lily-livered rhubarb thing; he wants chocolate cake with chocolate icing and ice cream. I don’t know if he knew or cared if it was store-bought. If he could have put it in his shirt pocket, he probaby would have. (We like lily-livered desserts, however, so we’ll give this a try some other time and make our husbands eat it. )

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Wacky gifts for mom, or me even

Friends. Neighbors. WE ARE STILL HERE. Things will be ramping back up soon. Promz.

In the meantime, get a load of Martha’s Insane (Sic) Mother’s Day Gift Guide. It’s a little late for Mother’s Day ’11, but these are some great gift suggestions in general. I know like 30 people who would like a Chalkboard Bud Vase, and that upside down apron cooking guide thing is already on my personal wish list (and will hopefully make everyone’s life easier).

Need it.

Want it.

Scared of it.

Our mom keeps begging us to take things away from her, not bring her more stuff.  So, we’re taking her on a house and garden tour for Mother’s Day, and we might even take her to a Secret Garden Party the following week. Last year we took her to tea at Maymont. The year before that it was a Segway tour of Monument Avenue.

I bet when she sees the Martha-recommended  USB Flower Hub though, she’ll wish we would just snap out of the Experience Phase already and return to a good, old-fashioned Gift Phase. We’ll see, Mom. Chill.