Quotes from Stacey Ballis

Your dream died? Fine. Give it a decent burial and dream a new dream.

truly amazing cooking isn't really so much about technique, it's about heart and soul...

I'm more grateful than ever that we have such brave and heroic people in this country who put their lives on the line every day to make me safe.

Stirring the pastry cream and putting it in the blast chiller in the island, a total chefly indulgence that I have never once regretted. The house filling with the scent of rich, dark chocolate as the cakes rise in the oven. The treat of the moist trimmings as I even up the layers before spreading the thick custard filling between them. The fudgy frosting smoothed perfectly over the whole thing, and then immediately marred with chocolate cookie crumbs.

Milk and cookies, anyone?" Elliot reappears from the kitchen with a large platter of chocolate chip cookies, and a little wire holder containing a dozen little milk bottles with striped paper straws, that turn out to contain vanilla malted milk shakes. "Elliot, these are amazing," I say, slurping the bottom of my bottle. "No one ever thinks about malt in vanilla, but I like it better than chocolate.

Toffee chip cookies, pine nut shortbread, raspberry oatmeal bars." She rattles them off. "Sophie says hi and thank you for the onion kuchen recipe, she really appreciated the share. Sent you a Nutella babka as a present." Marcy hands over a second, smaller bag that feels like a brick. Sophie Langer's Nutella babka is about the most perfect food I've ever put in my mouth.

Have I told you lately about the general direction in which I would like you to fuck? Ouch. You're really not a morning person.

After escargots swimming in garlic butter, steak with the crispiest, thinnest fries imaginable, and simple salads of butter lettuce in a peppery Dijon vinaigrette, we share a cheese course, followed by a trio of desserts: lemon tart for me, blueberry bread pudding for Jean, and a poached pear for Ruth.

But I had learned long ago that you actually probably don't want to know what kind of guy your besties think you ought to be with. It always says as much about what they think of you as what they think of him, and I find a certain comfort in being ignorant of what my pals might envision for me.

When you bring puppies home, it can take a few days before they feel comfortable enough to be themselves. The move from the breeder to your house is emotionally trying and it makes them exhausted and super docile. When they get comfy with you and their surroundings, they just become normal puppies, and everything that goes with that.

If nothing else, Emily gets here next week, so that will be good." "That will be great. Except she's bringing the hellbeast with her." My spring reunion with Schatzi was much as I would have expected. She bit me twice, shat in my suitcase, and ate one of my shoes. "Well, you could always make yeast rolls...

So," he explains. "Take the piece of bread, dip it in the olive oil and then in the spice and nut mix, and then smear some of the spicy carrot dip on top." The appetizer is complicated to assemble, but absolutely delicious. The bread, a hearty baguette from La Boulangerie, is a chewy, crusty foil for the buttery oil, savory crunchy nut mixture, and sweet and spicy carrot puree. An explosion of flavor and texture. He also has some creamy local chèvre, and marinated olives.

The first course arrives, a riff on bouillabaisse, with a deep-fried mussel-stuffed zucchini blossom, a small square of seared rockfish, a crouton topped with rouille, that garlicky red pepper-infused aioli that is the traditional topping, all in a small puddle of saffron-infused fish broth. And we are off to the races.

Liam's hash brown casserole can only be described as so over-the-top ridiculous I fear Paula Deen is sitting somewhere cackling about it. I can tell that there is cheese, butter, and sour cream in there, and do not want to know what else. It is delicious, as are the perfectly dried eggs, crispy bacon, buttery toast, and juicy sausages. The muffins are banana chocolate chip, otherwise known as breakfast cake.

Woman, did you just give twelve-year-old cheddar to the dog?" "Yep. She has a very refined cheese palate." "Good to know." I cut off a slice for myself, savoring the sharpness and the little salty crystals that pop on my tongue before the cheese melts into savory creaminess.

Laid out on the rustic farm table that sits to the side of Maria's enormous kitchen island is a lovely spread of fresh-looking salads. Wheat-berry salad, what looks like a Greek salad, asparagus, a platter of beautifully arranged fruit, and some cooked tuna steaks. "This looks amazing!" I've been mired in fall comfort foods for work, all braised and hearty, and it is very exciting to see such fresh and light fare for a change.

Shawn reaches across the counter with the spoon, and I taste the creamy potatoes, rich and delicious, with just the perfect amount of tartness from the sour cream. I roll my eyes in ecstasy.

Your body will always tell you what you need. If you crave sweet things, your energy is flagging. If it's meat you want, your iron is low. When you want potatoes above everything else, there is something not grounded with you. Whatever tricks your head many play on you, however fickle your heart, your body will tell you very specifically what it is you need, and it is up to you to listen.

I go to the counter and take a blondie off the rack I used to do the chocolate drizzle and bite into it. They have browned butter and a combination of dark and light brown sugar, which gives them a deep caramel tang. The pistachios have retained their crunch, and the figs are just slightly tart. The white chocolate takes the whole thing over the top, and I know that, if nothing else, I can cook.

Bubbles enters with a plate overflowing with rugelach. The three of us fall silent as we indulge in the small snail-shaped pastries of tender cream-cheese-infused dough wrapped around various fillings: one with walnuts and cinnamon, one bursting with chocolate, one with a thick, sweet poppy seed paste, and one with apricot jam that has been bumped up with some chewy bits of diced dried apricots.

Chicken and vegetable pakoras, chickpea fritters with delicate spices. Aloo samosas filled with spicy potatoes, peas, and cilantro, with a fiery green sauce. Goat curry. Tandoori chicken. Mutton biryani. White lentil dal with onions and spices, potatoes and eggplant fried with onions and tomatoes, and four kinds of bread, naan, tandoor roti, chapati, and paratha.

I fill one container with hearty vegetable soup, and another with a Japanese-style broth, bok choy, scallions, and udon noodles. I pack up a roasted chicken breast, and some plain steamed brown rice. Some orange slices in honey vinegar with mint. A couple of corn muffins.

Kai and I head back into the kitchen, where the platters and trays are set up. Grilled vegetable skewers with a lemon dressing. Beef tenderloin, roasted medium rare, sliced thin, with a grainy mustard sauce. Orzo salad with spinach, red onion, and feta. Filled cucumbers and pickled carrots. White beans with sage. Saffron risotto with artichokes and chicken. Mini pavlovas and poached pears and poppy-seed cookies.

So I was pet free, and not unhappily so, until Aimee showed up the morning of my last day of being twenty-nine with a teacup-sized, deep red, wriggling puppy. It was love at first sight, and I'm grateful for her serene and placid presence. Not to mention the fact that she is the perfect dog. Never naughty, never a sick day in her life, never has an accident in the house or chews anything she oughtn't. She is essentially the non-dog dog, practically a person, and I can take her anywhere.