Happy Moanday: Chilly and Sleepy

Oh Monday. Oh Moanday. Today was one of those days where I woke up already tired and cold and hungry and wishing it were the afternoon or weekend. Part of that is because Mondays are always a little tough (my whole team at work gets progressively more cheerful as the week goes on, meaning although by Friday we are cracking jokes and sharing brownies, on Monday we are like individual little thunder clouds), and part of that is because I rolled into my apartment late last night after a 6-hour bus ride. It was too late and I was too tired to make any dinner (I ended up eating a two-inch block of cheddar cheese. I know...).

Other than that, though--things are great! I spent the weekend in Boston, eating too much and lazing around with Dave, which was nice. As usual, come Saturday night, when we'd planned on making cupcakes (by "we" I mean "me"), we were full and exhausted and decided to call it a night (I wanted to wake up early and make them Sunday, but Dave, my taste-tester, vetoed). Speaking of cupcakes, though, I did manage to visit the new cupcake shop in Harvard Square, which is exactly where a cupcake shop needs to be (overstressed students in need of a sugar binge? Please. People were freebasing frosting in there). Although I didn't get one, I was impressed with the sweet little dollops of frosting, the cheerful and minimalistic decor, and the vibrant reds of their red velvet cupcakes (Dave had to drag me out).

I also finally, finally! got myself a new camera, a purchase at least a year in the making. It is a terrific little Canon point-and-shoot and takes beeeautiful photos of food (I tested it out at the Indian place where we had lunch and was oohing and aahing over the bright, pure colors and perfect little details). I am hoping, finally, to be able to take pictures of my dinner where the meats don't look tired and sad. Oh dreams.

As for this week: it is figid and unpleasant in New York, where hot and humid rainy weather has been traded for clear and cold. I am shivering and wishing for something warm and lovely, which is making me think sweet potatoes. Although they are more appropros for fall, they are warm and comforting and I've been craving them for a week. I have an idea for a goat-cheese topped sweet potato fritter and also have a months-old recipe I've been wanting to try for homemade sweet potato ravioli (I may mix it up with some regular ravioli as well).

Plans are to head home to New Jersey this weekend, meaning I'll just need one more meal. I may unfreeze the tomato soup in my freezer, paired with my famous grilled cheese, or get something simple like panko-fried chicken or lime shrimp. We shall see...

Image of Sleepy Chilly Ice Bat, which I never heard of before until I Google Image searched "sleepy chilly"

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The Restaurantour: The Daily Catch

In Boston, there is a great, lovely aquarium right on the harbor. Inside, there is a penguin exhibit and a giant cylindrical tank where sharks and rays glide around and tiny little seahorses bob. There is almost always a line to get in, but even if you can't make it inside you can always walk by their outdoor exhibit of harbor seals, where you can watch them swim back and forth and learn all their names (I am particularly fond of Smoke). I don't go as often as I like, it being expensive and usually crowded on weekends, but a few years ago Dave, his sister, and I made the trip. We watched the penguins' feeding time and the shark's feeding time, learned about local shoreline birds, and held starfish in the touch tank. When we finally left and decided to get some dinner, we all sort of thought for a second where we should go before Dave said, "You know? I kind of have a craving for fish."

And as soon as he said it, we had to agree. Despite the bad lesson that we left with (fish are food, not friends?), I'm grateful for that excursion for introducing me to the best fish restaurant in the world--the absolutely incomparable Daily Catch.

I wish I could say I discovered the Daily Catch, but with many of my favorite Boston restaurants (oh how I still dream of Marche, Kebab n Kurry, and so many others...), I was tipped off by my brother, a Bostonian 7 years and running. I called and asked him for a good fish restaurant near the aquarium and he immediately had the answer. Just a few short blocks away, in Boston's famed North End, we found the tiny little restaurant, huddled between Italian sports bars and across the street from Mike's Pastries, one of the favorite places to pick up overpriced gelato and cannolis.

From outside, it doesn't look like much. Most of the tiny restaurant (I'd estimate it's maybe 15'-20' wide) is taken up by the stove, grill, and chef's area, giving you the feeling that you're sitting inside someone's kitchen. The fact that the restaurant is family run as well, with nieces and siblings stopping by to wait tables or just chat, only emphasizes this, as does the extremely limited seating (no reservations, and if you're seated at the window, you're likely to feel the hungry eyes of waiting diners on the sidewalk outside). The food, fish and seafood so fresh it was swimming in the harbor that morning, is absolutely fantastic. From your seat, you can watch the chef prepare your food and see the flames shoot up as it hits the grill.

No menus in this Sicilian restaurant. Instead, you order off a nearby chalkboard--not a problem as the place is so small it's always easy to read (also easy to read: the many, many reminders that the place only takes cash, no credit card. A nearby Bank of America ATM probably has a lot to thank them for). Most of the food is pan-fried or broiled and served directly in the pans in which they were cooked, meaning you don't lose a single bite of flavor or texture. My favorite is the pan-fried salmon, usually a special and not on the main menu, which comes drenched in butter and breadcrumbs. The best thing on the menu, however, and a unique dish to the restaurant, is their black pasta. Spaghetti pasta made with tinta de calamari comes out, yes, black. Although unusual-looking, it is perhaps the best pasta ever--high praise from a pastaphile like myself. The long, round, fat strands are silky and thick--you can literally taste the fresh flour and eggs and the homemade effort.

Although the Daily Catch is pricey (Appetizers: $3-$10 per person, Entres: $18-$23, with the show-stopping Lobster Fra Diavolo at $69 for two), it's worth every penny and could easily be worth more. If you want more of the standard amenities for your buck, the little North End eatery has a more upscale cousin on Boston's Harborwalk, where an expanded menu and wine list, as well as a larger setting (it also takes reservations) make a dressier setting.
Still, I am partial to the cramped and cozy space in the North End, where you can watch ancient Italian men debate the latest soccer match and chat with your chef about the best kinds of fish. Of course, if you really wanted to learn more about your dinner, the aquarium is still just minutes away.
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Counter Intelligence: Tea for Two

One of the things that makes me most feel like a grown up is my deep affinity for a nice cup of tea.

It started in college, when I would routinely work in my dorm's dining hall late at night. The very lovely Cabot Dining Hall staff members (who truly deserve a post all in their own), usually left out cookies, cakes, bagels, and toast for hungry students to munch on through the night (Brain Break! so good). Along with that, they'd usually keep the soda running and, if you had been around long enough, you knew how easy it was to turn on the hot coccoa machine and the juice fountain. They also, though, left out dozens of mugs and kept the coffee and hot water dispensers turned on.

I think I probably started drinking tea mostly because the water was very, very hot, and I was very, very cold, and when you're working your way through 300 pages of reading a night, sometimes you just need something to do, even if it's just routinely making undrunk cups of tea. But! Eventually I did start drinking them, and stumbled upon how truly lovely it is to sit with a cup of tea on a rainy day.

My various favorite blends and flavors have changed throughout the years. Like so many people, I was for a time lured by the rich, fragrant sweetness of chai tea (the very first time I ever had it was 2001, when my brother and I did our Christmas shopping at Borders. The sweet smell of chai tea wafted throughout the whole building, until finally we walked up the cafe area and said "We want two cups of whatever is making this place smell so amazing." Immediately sold.).

I do still hold a special fondness for chai--a box of the stuff is sitting in my cabinet now--but since then I've pared down my tastes. My favorite right now is basic black tea (generally Bigelow's English Teatime) with a tablespoon of honey and a splash of skim milk. I leave the tea bag in the cup to steep, so that it gets stronger and stronger. Even if I forget to drink all of it before it stays hot, the cold tea is strong and flavorful, crisp and refreshing.

While I drink tea every single morning (I am not a "coffee" person, but I do have a pretentious NPR-style disdain for coffee drinkers), I actually don't own anything to make tea for myself (aside from a big pot, but where's the charm in that?). No kettles, teapots, or strainers, and even the mugs at home are loners from my roommates. Not for lack of desire though, I love teapots (check out my little URL icon)--the cheerful colors, the bright little whistle, the endearing song (you know the one!). My dearth of mugs, though, just seems to indicate that I haven't had too many life experiences (it seems like they all come with mugs. Witness my parents' collection of more than 2 dozen of mugs from countless grateful students and corporate events).

Yes, I love tea and teapots and mugs and I would happily build my own lovely collection, but I am picky and discerning in my choices. For mugs, they have to be large, plain, not too heavy, and not have a cover. Ceramic, not plastic, and hopefully matching (I get that I'm crossing the line from cute to neurotic. I guess we all have our pitfalls?). I like teapots in either bright bold colors with a classic Mrs. Potts shape (did you ever wonder where Mr. Potts was and whether all the teacups were her kids or just Chip?) or the vintage wide-bottomed and flat copper kettles. Oh, or! The teapot in the background of the Flight of the Conchords openning montage (watch it here! Then watch "Carol Brown" and also, if you have time, the original live version of "The Humans are Dead." Ok. Back to teapots). It is an adorable squat little thing in a sunny yellow and if I stumbled upon it in a hipsterish street fair in Brooklyn I would love it with all my tea-filled heart.

But, since I'm still waiting for that special teapot to sweep me off my feet (I am leaning towards this one, but I don't know, something just doesn't seem right), here are some of the more beautiful tea-related things I've discovered. I fear that soon enough my online tea shopping will turn to musings on grills and ice cream makers, while I curse my apartment for its lack of air conditioning, but while New York stays dreary, rainy, and cold, I'll keep dreaming of tea time.

These are flowering tea blossoms, and they are impossibly lovely
Hand-sewn tea leaves expand and bloom when dropped into hot water
You can watch a beautiful, mesmerizing video of them here


The nice thing about the blooming tea blossoms is they're served in clear teapots
I would worry that these glass pots would get too hot, but they do look very pretty

Why yes, that is a teapot in the shape of a giant lime robot.
Notice the bolt of electricity which forms the handle?
Want.

Unsurprisingly, given my last post on crockery, Urban Outfitters has some sweet, simple mugs
These are technically capuccino mugs, but they are so bright, bold, and cheerful

A kama sutra teapot.
Works out kinda amazingly well, given the Twister-limbs

This is Crispus Attucks' teapot.
I saw it in real life a few years ago when I took a class on New England artifacts
My professor, who discovered the teapot and put it on the cover of her book, was like
"We just thought it looked cute, and then we actually realized what it was."
It is cute, and tiny.

It's a Wallace teapot! And he's holding a cuppa tea!
*Head splode with happiness*

More Urban mugs. They didn't have K. They never have K...

I'll leave you with a video of one of the best tea songs out there, sung by, natch, Julie Andrews.
When I was a little duckling dreaming of being Shirley Temple I used to tap dance to this (and sometimes still do!)

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Give Me Some Comfort (Food): Brownie Points

Oh brownies. In the grand scheme of life, there is almost nothing more tempting or more wonderful than freshly-baked, slightly gooey brownies. In high school, I used to make brownies almost every weekend, when Jeremy would come over and my mom would pop a batch in the oven. We'd turn on a movie and dredge our brownies in ice cream and chocolate syrup, secure in our teenager metabolisms (youth! so innocent...).

Good brownies--moist, springy, chocolatey and fudgy--are just utterly fantastic. Slathered with some chocolate frosting or left unadorned, their tissue-thin surfaces shiny and delicate, they are instant crowd-pleasers. But by that same token, bad brownies--thick, heavy, and dry--are one of the most unfortunate things ever. The disappointment in seeing a big, beautiful brownie, taking a bite, and discovering that it is dry, chalkly, or--ugh--filled with nuts (or fruit!) is quite unlike anything else.

Of course, sometimes the best brownies are the ones that never make it to the pan. I think my weekly brownie-trips with Jeremy were subtle attempts to sneak spoonfuls of brownie batter, which I would happily eat for the rest of my short, fat life if it didn't make me sick so quickly. With the richness of the egg and flour and the pure chocolate essence of a melted Hershey's bar, brownie batter is frightfully addictive (and unlike Dave, who will even eat chunks of unkneaded bread dough, I don't usually sample my food before it's completely prepared, less because of possible fears of salmonella and more because I am a stickler for instructions. Brownie batter in oven, not stomach!). One memorable night, though, when I was still in college, Kevin and I found a box of brownie mix and although we managed to track down eggs and oil (from the friendly Cabot dining hall staff!), we didn't have access to an oven. Unperturbed, we worked our way through most of the whole bowl, while our respective significant others looked on in disgust (and jealousy?).

My favorite brownie recipe is one that's almost as old as I am (I brought these suckers in kindergarten, to great acclaim). Made with regular brownie mix, scoops of batter are dropped in paper-lined cupcake tins and topped with a tiny Reese's peanut butter cup. The batter puffs up around the peanut butter cup, forming a little round pillow. The chocolate of the peanut butter cup doesn't quite melt, while the peanut butter emerges hot and gooey. They are just so, so good. I'm not sure if my mom invented these or if she got the recipe from somewhere else (which I'm more inclined to believe. My mom is more the recipe follower than inventor), but last year I started baking them again, encouraged by my boyfriend's oven and hungry roommates. The roomies, who are environmental grad students and also geology nerds, said the brownies looked like a certain kind of volcano and christened them Caldera Brownies.

CALDERA BROWNIES
INGREDIENTS
1 box of brownie mix (usually needs oil, water, and an egg)
1 bag of miniature Reese's peanut butter cups
Paper cupcake liners

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 325 degrees
Prepare the brownie mix according to the instructions on the box
Unwrap about 2 dozen peanut butter cups
Line a cupcake tin with the paper liners
Using an ice cream scoop, fill the liners with batter--about 2/3 full
Gently press a peanut butter cup into the center of the brownie batter until the top of the batter is even with the top of the peanut butter cup
Bake for 17-20 minutes
Let cool 5-10 minutes and serve warm

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Potahto Tomahto

It's always a little dicey when it's late, I'm hungry and tired, and I decide to try out a new recipe. Sometimes it turns out just lovely, and I go to sleep with a full stomach and a new go-to recipe, and sometimes I wind up with something charred, soggy, tasteless, and/or disgusting. Last night, after I'd been working on this new recipe for 45 minutes and realized I was still at the "prepping my ingredients" phase, I got worried. I was making a potato and tomato gratin that would have to eventually cook for an hour and a half, meaning I'd be pulling it out of the oven at 7 o'clock, a whole hour after I usually try to go to sleep (I work mornings). If it was a disaster, I didn't even have a box of Mac n Cheese around that I could toss into a pot. My apprehension growing, I followed the recipe, stuck it in the oven, and left to shower and catch up on Lost (Ben! Did you see him read "Little Boy Blue" on Jimmy Fallon? Wonder what's it like to be so naturally frightening?).

And finally, I pulled it out of the oven, nervous and hungry. Would it be delicious? Mediocre? Cringe-inducing?

I took my first bite and was immediately relieved: delish.

I found this recipe online at O Pistachio, where I was sold pretty much completely by the picture (posted here). Gorgeous golden crispy potatoes, bright beautiful tomatoes, delicate crinkled thyme--it looked amazing (more reason for me to get my butt in gear and get a nice new camera). Philomena, who blogged about this potato, tomato, garlic gratin, said she got the recipe from Patricia Wells's introduction to the cooking of French chef Joel Robuchon, Simply French. I made a few tiny adjustments, since I don't like onions and I wanted a smaller portion (I am not 6 to 8 people). The result was amazing: the sweetness of the tomato sauce nicely highlighted the potatoes, which ranged from crispy and flavorful to moist, hot, and rich. I also love garlic, which only added to the drool-worthiness (my mouth is seriously watering right now).

You can get the original gratin recipe here, but I've posted the one I used below. The original calls for 5 tomatoes, peeled, seeded, cored, and diced, and Philomena suggests slitting the skin of the tomatoes, boiling them for one minute, and then dredging them in cold water, which will help remove the skins. This is what took me forever, as I had to wait for the water to boil, then peel the tomatoes, then core, then dice. I only used 2 tomatoes, but only ended up using one, after I was worried about so much time I was spending on getting the ingredients going. For authenticity, I would recommend going through the motions, but for speed, I'm going with canned diced tomatoes (already peeled, cored, seeded, and diced).

POTATO, TOMATO, AND GARLIC GRATIN
INGREDIENTS
2 tomatoes, peeled, cored, seeded, and diced (or 1/2 to 1 can diced)
2 large potatoes, about 1lb or a little less
4 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
sea salt & freshly ground pepper
3 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, snipped
1 teaspoon fresh thyme

DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 425°F / 220°C.
In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons oil over a high heat.
When hot, add the garlic and cook until just tender, 1 or 2 minutes. Be careful not to let the garlic burn, or it will taste bitter in the final dish.
Add the tomatoes and cook until the mixture thickens, about 10 minutes.
Add the sugar, and season, and continue cooking for about 10 minutes.
Taste for seasoning.
Meanwhile, prepare the potatoes: peel, wash, and cut the potatoes into very thin slices.
Wash again and dry thoroughly.
In a small bowl, set aside about one quarter of the potatoes, which will be used as the topping.
Rub the bottom of an oval baking dish with the garlic and 1 tablespoon of the butter.
In a large bowl, combine the remaining potatoes with the sauce and toss carefully to blend. Transfer the mixture to a baking dish, smoothing it out with the back of a spoon.
Add enough chicken stock to cover.
In a medium-size bowl, combine the reserved topping potatoes, the remaining 1 tablespoon butter, and the parsley.
Toss to coat evenly.
Beginning at one end of the dish, place the buttered potatoes, one by one, in slightly overlapping rows on top of the tomato-covered potatoes, until the entire dish is covered with an even potato layer.
Sprinkle with the thyme.
Place the dish in the centre of the oven and bake until the potatoes are soft, most of the liquid has been absorbed, and the top is golden, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
Serve immediately.

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Happy Moanday: Whine Flu

I was all set to write a lovely little post about this potato-tomato gratin I found that I wanted to try, when I got the cah-raziest stomach cramps while at work. Since the last time this happened, I ignored it and ended up puking every mile of the trip from Boston to New York, I figured it was best to duck out of work early and save whatever potential sickness for my litte bathroom, rather than the decent and hard-working R line (sorry if you are just visiting the blog for the first time. My posts are not usually so vomit-filled).

And now, hours later, my stomach is rumbling but not so much beset by stabbing pains, which I consider a step up? I'm reconsidering that gratin and wondering what caused my early-morning stomach pain (I doubt last night's dinner of pasta and fried egg had much to do with it, although that Snapple tasted funny...).

Anyway, fingers crossed that I can actually get out of bed and out of my sweatpants and before a stove to try out these recipes. I'm excited for the new iteration of Res-o-puh-leese (special post on this coming soon!), and already have the week planned out for what I will post about. I'm back to Boston this Friday, assuming I don't come down with swine flu and have to be quarantined, which means it'll be just four nights of meals this week.

On the agenda:
-I'm hopeful this gratin works out, and, since the two weeks' ago August in April seems to have fizzled out in an anti-climatic creeping fog and chill rain, some soup to warm me bones.
-It's Cinco de Mayo this week! (this post was going to be called "Quatro de Mayo" before the aforementioned sickness) I'm thinking of celebrating with some chimichurri steak, homemade tortilla chips (which seem to be frightfully easy), and margaritas.
-And, Stef, of the Cupcake Project, is hosting a contest, along with the folks at Scoopalicious, for ice cream cupcakes! I love a good creative cupcake, and have many ideas percolating in my brain. I'm thinking of trying them out in Boston this weekend, an idea of which Dave is a fan, and I'll let you know how they turn out!

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New Layout!

It's true! I finally finished the new layout! Woohooooo!

This was a project several months in the making, ever since I clicked the original green template and was immediately hit with blogger's remorse. I am very happy with how the whole thing turned out, although I'm predicting getting sick of it very quickly. Some new features on the blog:
Rounded corners! --because I'm not square!
Prettier colors! --because they're prettier!
Wider posts! --because wider is better!
A brand new header! --because...I have a head?


I've also reorganized the columns and features (accessible on the left) and put them on a set schedule:
Happy Moanday (Mondays) -- my weekly wrap-up and rumination on what I will actually feed myself that week
Resopuhleese (Tuesdays and Thursdays) -- a different recipe, reviewed, tested, and shared
Cheap Eats (rotating, Tuesdays) -- recipes and shopping tips for the budget conscious, from the budget conscious
The Incompetent Chef (rotating, Tuesdays) -- liveblogging cooking! also maybe videos, if I get over the potential creepiness of it
A Brief History Of... (rotating, Wednesdays) -- my favorite foods, in historical perspective
The Spice of Life (rotating, Wednesdays) -- featuring the backgroud and uses of a different spice every week
Give Me Some Comfort (Food) (rotating, Wednesdays) -- foods that want to give you a hug
Mytheaters (rotating, Thursdays) -- food experiments!
Counter Intelligence (rotating, Thursdays) -- pretty and techie kitchen appliances and tools
Spotlight On (rotating, Fridays) -- featuring a different blog every week
Food for Talk (rotating, Fridays) -- interviews with my favorite bloggers and foodies
The Parent Trap (rotating, Saturdays) -- recipes from my parents' kitchen
The Restaurantour (rotating, Saturdays) -- the wonderful places where I don't have to cook
On Sundays, I'll also be featuring semi-regular columns from my smoothie-making boyfriend, his beer-making brother, and my once-caterer friend. Have something foodie-related to say? Want a regular column? Let me know! Other once in a while columns: Book Reviews--of cookbooks, Recipes Regurgitated--reviews of recipes, and Foodie Dreams, Kitchen Nightmares--my crash-and-burn attempts to make good food.

So how did a journalist with limited-to-no skill in web design* whip up this little baby? Let's take a look at the DVD commentary.

Sometime in February I started dreaming up a new design for the site, with a nice header, more room for the posts, and a clearer background to show off crisper photos. I first thought about going muted, greys and a simple design to set off the photos. I drew a couple mock-ups, but when I put it online, it was just so bleak and depressing. My one design idea mostly ruined, I decided to go back to the digital drawing board.

After reading several web design sites, I went with their suggestion of planning out exactly what I wanted for the blog, who the readers are (you! and other people!), and what kind of feeling or attitude I wanted to project. I knew I wanted something clean and simple, with bright and fresh colors. I wanted it to be easy enough to find recipes and different columns (this is something I'm still working on), and I wanted the blog to feel fun, whimsical, and personal. Some design sites suggested building "idea boards" full of pictures that capture the feeling or structure of what you want to create. I built my own idea board from blogs I admired or thought were beautiful, as well as different typography I liked (like the scrap of embroidered letters from a Colonial girl's piecework), possible backgrounds for the site (like the brown vintage wallpaper in the center), and different illustrations I liked (like the big blue bear). This did wonders to help focus my design, as well as inspire me to create something different.

One of the first things I settled on that helped anchor the rest of the design was the drawing I did of myself. I started doing cartoons of myself about a year ago, when I was stuck on a plane, waiting to go home to see Dave. I was bored, tired, and missing him (after a two-week vacation), and I started drawing cartoons of myself and him and what we would do once we saw each other (included: us driving home, Dave collapsing with sleep because it was 3 in the morning). I did all my drawings with a fine-point black Sharpie marker, my absolute favorite thing to draw with (I have an embarassingly vast collection). I liked them and Dave liked them, so I kept doing them. For our 2-year anniversary last year, I filled up a whole book for him, drawing little cartoons of my favorite memories of us, and since then, I've kept it up. When I wanted something cheery, cute, and personal for my header, a hand-drawn, hand-watercolored cartoon of myself seemed the logical answer.

Before even attempting to learn CSS, I designed the whole layout with a photo-editting program. Since I don't have the money or patience for Photoshop, I went with Gimp, a free program that's a pared-down version of Photoshop. I love it. It has all the aspects that are great about Photoshop--editting tools, layers, transparency--but it has such a clean and simple user interface (as well as an awesome online help guide) that even a design virgin like myself could navigate the whole thing with ease. I used it to craft my first layout, which used a corkboard-patterned background on top of pink-ringed boxes.

While I thought it was cute, I didn't like how pink the whole thing was and I thought the corkboard, while nice, wasn't really reflective of the kitchen-food-cooking part of the blog. I tweaked the design a little, swapping blue for pink, throwing in more white, and giving it a new background. Thanks to a little Googling, I found an image of vintage Formica, that plasticky stuff that covers most kitchen and bathroom counters. I loved the look of the delicate gold flecks and marblized design and also how it reflected, subtly at least, the kitchen-cooking feel of the blog. I also included some personal touches, like the hand-written dates (done in my own handwriting), and the cartoon foods.

The layout designed, I had to start the hardest part of this whole process: learning CSS and coding the whole thing. So, I know nothing about CSS (which stands for cascading style sheets). I don't really like computer programming in general, ever since I took that C++ class sophomore year of high school, by the end of which our teacher informed us the class wouldn't be offered again because C++ had been made obsolete. But, I like my blog, I didn't like the layout, and I didn't have enough money to pay for someone to code things myself. I started with the Rounders template from Blogger and, I'm proud to say, I adapted the whole thing myself, finding many helpful hints and tricks online. Some of these wonderful people, who I am more than happy to thank, include:

-Peter of Blogger Tips and Tricks: how to remove the little box around all my images, how to create a favicon (the little blue kettle in the URL box--generated using the Free FavIcon Generator)
-Vin of The Blog Doctor: expandable post summaries (the "Read More!")
-Alejandro Gervasio, Stefan Mischook, and Amanda Fazani: the Javascript to stretch my sidebar column to the same length of my post
-ids of The Blogger Guide: wider posts

There are, I'm sure, many other aricles I checked and double-checked and many other resources I relied upon, all of which I'm very grateful for. My brother, who actually does know how to design, was a big help in giving thumbs up and thumbs down (many more ups than downs), and Dave, of course, scanned my drawings, got me books on CSS, critiqued my work (many more downs than ups), and kept me motivated when the Delete button seemed a tantalizing option.

Thanks for visiting, and I hope you enjoy the new (and improved) Res-o-puh-leese!

*Other than my erstwhile fansite for the awesome movie Newsies--the number 3 Newsies fansite on the web! (no but really, I had something like 5,000 hits in my first 6 months...)--for which I actually learned HTML and Java.
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