Taste of Chicago ~ Portillo's comes to Scottsdale

We've talked so much about Portillo's that our friends in Scottsdale kept us posted on the first one under construction in the valley. Lanie sent me this text yesterday morning before we got together for the day and I jokingly responded. After bowling, Jeff wanted to drive-by even though Portillo's wasn't officially open for business. We talked to some folks at the front door, even name-dropping, with no success, then chatted with some guys by the drive-through, asking questions that made us sound like regular customers, which of course we are in Hinsdale. The next thing we knew, we were invited to help "train" the drive-though employees by ordering for real and mock paying.  Jeff made sure the offer included meals all around, so two chopped salads and two Italian beef and sausage sandwiches, we were heading to Lanie and Jerry's with our freebies, included drinks, fries and onion rings. Nick and Katie were jealous to hear of our good fortune. Portillo's is one of those places you may not go to real often when it's right down the street, but every so often, the craving comes and it's nice to know it's around the corner.

Never Alone

Watching me check emails

Ozzie quickly settled into his winter home.

Even though he still goes outside, Ozzie is not the wandering cat he is in Hinsdale. In fact, he doesn't go far at all.

Sleeping in his basket

Trapped on his leash

On the computer before breakfast

A Week's Work Jan 15 to 26

Day One   

 Wall Renovation Begins

 

Last winter, we fell in love with built-in media walls. We visited one company's showroom for ideas and information, but Jeff thought it would be a fun project for him. He put pen to paper and came up with some creative but complicated designs that never seemed quite right. Until now.

Materials: $175
Labor:  Five days
Result: Perfect!

 Day Two

Framing Underway

  Day Three

Drywall Installed 

Day Four  

Mudding and Sanding 

 Day Five 

Painting

 

What a Difference

AZ Winter

The valley of the sun had a string of freezing temperatures in mid-January that sent people into their drawers and closets for sweatshirts and coats, hats and gloves.

And into their linen closets for sheets and towels to cover their fragile bougainvillea, hibiscus, even citrus trees. For about a week, this is the ghostly scene we saw in just about every front yard as people scrambled to protect their plants. Unfortunately, the apparitions did little to save most plants, which still withered under the extended frost. But seriously, where else but in Phoenix do people do this, I'd like to know.

Roquettes in the Kitchen

Nick remembered a wine-dipped sugar-crusted cookie from his childhood Christmases at Grandma's, and wanted to learn how to make them. So Grandma brought Abuelita's recipe for Spanish roquettes, which of course, varies from sister to sister even though it's their mother's recipe. Aunt Rita makes it one way, Aunt Nonnie another, all the others have their own version and even some cousins too, but Grandma told Nick her recipe is the best. And there it was, handwritten on the back of a Christmas card, with lines and arrows, scratched out words and missing steps.  Jeff was adamant that he and Nick make the dough and form, bake, dip and roll the roquettes on their own, with his mother watching and advising from outside the boundaries of the kitchen. There was plenty of chatter back and forth as Jeff and Nick tried to make sense of the steps and dough ingredients, which included both anisette and moscato wine. The final step was dipping the baked cookies in more moscato, then rolling in sugar. Sooo how many of these did Nick eat as a kid? 

When the bowls were washed and the cookies set out to dry, Jeff spend more hours rewriting the recipe longhand while it was fresh in his mind, then typing it out in a slightly longer, better organized more detailed version that would make the roquettes easier to make but not as much fun.

Mixing the dough

Testing

Rolling

Tasting

Sugared roquettes 

Fresh of the oven

That one little card turned into three legal size hand-written sheets 

For all the world to see 

La Jolla

December 7, in La Jolla for a wedding on the beach

Of all the places I vacationed as a child, La Jolla was the most magical.

Never mind that they rolled up the streets before 8 pm back then. Better to wake up in the early morning mist and rush down to the cove before the sun peaked through the fog and the day officially began. To have an hour or so to savor the beauty, to feel the solitude and oneness with nature.  

All these years later, I can close my eyes and smell the salty air, hear the rhythmic pounding of the surf and remember the quickening of my heart as I headed alone toward the ocean, feeling much like John Masefield in Sea Fever:

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied

So much has changed in La Jolla, and then not so much.

The main streets are lined with upscale boutiques and restaurants, but the hotel where we stayed is perched at the top of the street leading down to the cove. The balconies and awnings are "new" as I'm sure much of the inside is, but from a distance the rooftop patio looks like the same place we spent chilly evenings with the owners and our friends from Phoenix who knew them.

Back in AZ

We crossed into Arizona from New Mexico early afternoon on Sunday, November 18, glad that we made good time after a tenuous start on Friday.

Packed to the brim with suitcases and storage containers, we had just turned onto Route 83 towards Interstate-55 to St Louis when Jeff noticed smoke coming out of the engine. He quickly detoured to our neighborhood service station for a necessary repair that set us off a few hours, but saved us from an even worse break-down on the road.

Before I could rescue Ozzie from his kennel, he was up on the lift, trapped. I reluctantly left him for the comfort of Janie's couch and a final farewell for the winter.

Almost free. Ozzie went from locked in the van to leashed in the yard.