I like to use Google to search for really important things, for example: Long Island Iced Tea, Electric Iced Tea, Bahama Mamas, Rum Runner drinks. Today, when I sat down at my computer those were the screens that popped up before me.

We took a sneak vacation a few weeks ago, surprising our kids day-of that we were taking them to Disneyland. We had been so restless and so craving sun, that we decided to disappear from our regular lives for a few days. We planned and deliberated and kept a very large, very juicy secret from our boys: four days of sun, fun and roller coasters were in their near future (It was very hard not to tell)!

It was great through and through. We spent mornings cavorting around the parks and afternoons laying lazily by a sun-blasted pool. Drinks were allowed. We imbibed, swam, and soaked up some much-needed Vitamin D rays. Two drinks topped our list (somehow ‘foo-foo drinks’—those that boast the umbrella cherry pineapple garnish—seemed appropriate): Rum Runner and Bahama Mama. Sweet, fruity, pineapple, coconut yumminess. “Oh, can you move that umbrella over here? That’s great, thanks. Sure…. goggles are in the bag.” Sigh, sip, drift…

Now it has been a few weeks, and the sun is showing up a bit more here at home. But who wouldn’t want to recapture those moments of relaxation and rumminess? Kindof sounds like reminisce. Rummy Remmies. Reminiscent Rumminess. Running Rummy Reminiscing (yes, done with the word play: but if you have had a few of these drinks in a row, you would think they were very funny tongue twisters).

So here is a version I concocted this weekend to bring a bit of relaxation and fun to guests:

Bahama Mamas
1 1/2 ounce coconut rum
1 ounce triple sec
4 oz orange juice
4 oz pineapple juice
1/2 ounce grenadine

For the record: I never measured. Tropical mentality, I presume. And I made one round in just a glass, and another time I poured a whole pitcher (one for you, four for me). The truth is I do mental fractions while pouring (or my boys might say I measure in “gluggs”; when I ask them to pour olive oil in a skillet I tell them: one glugg or two gluggs. Same goes for alcohol: one glugg or more. I think one glugg is a very rough 1 ounce). So when I pour a glass it is two small gluggs coconut rum, one large glugg triple sec, a few gluggs of orange juice and pineapple juice–I usually err on the side of more orange juice—and a half glugg, splash-like amount of grenadine. Sounds complicated? The island drinks are very forgiving. Start pouring, mix, adjust. It’s all good.

Prosciutto, peas, Parmesan, parsley and pasta. What is not to love? (Maybe guilt from all the cream and butter)? Well, at least the peas are healthy: so I add a ton of them! The fresh, sweet peas perfectly compliment the salty prosciutto and rich cream. The more peas, the less guilt in my mind.

I am a fan of the book French Women don’t get Fat and have just started reading the sequel: French Women for all Seasons. The beauty of this rich dish in context of her espoused food philosophy is this: enjoy it. Slowly savor… each creamy, salty, herb flecked, pea popping bite. Let the flavors loll about on your tongue, sip some fruity red, momentarily close your eyes. What I love about this book—and her orientation toward food—is that it encourages you to focus on the pleasure of food. This luxurious and rich dish, Mireille would recommend, should be offset by smarter, less fatty foods in the days surrounding. But in the end, when you are eating this dish: be present with it. Enjoy each bite.

And be a food snob. Not in a nose up way, but in a way that makes you focus on the flavors and bites, not just eating to pass time or until your tummy hurts. Don’t eat and forget that you are eating, don’t eat just to finish your plate: eat for the pleasure of your palate. And when your palate is satisfied (usually before your belly is bursting), then stop. Make every bite earn its place; it must be highly satisfying and delicious or you won’t eat any more. Try it: it is an interesting experience.

And a wonderful excuse to have and enjoy this indulgent, satiating dish. But when you have enjoyed these flavors enough, leave the rest on your plate and use your food snobbery to pick and choose only the bites that are most satisfying each and every meal, each and every day. I sometimes find myself thinking ‘that flavor isn’t worth any more bites’ or ‘I definitely need a few more bites of that.’ Or ‘this dish is so worth each singular, pleasure-filled bite.’

It may sound silly, but for me, slipping into this French philosophy, helps me focus more on flavor profiles, and ultimately the pleasure of food. I don’t deny myself a rich and creamy bacon laced pasta dish—in fact I enjoy each and every bite—but I usually don’t need too many bites because invariably it IS really rich and for me that means my palate is happier sooner.

This is almost a one dish meal, though if I serve it to guests I will certainly start the meal with a selection of olives, bread with dipping sauce and perhaps a light salad. Dessert shouldn’t be too complex or overwhelming: perhaps a fruity sorbet or fruit and cheese to drink with a friendly port. Or better: some simple cookies with coffee. Mostly, though, I make this for a weeknight meal for my family; it is quick and easy to make, and a dish I love to warm up for lunch the next day!

Tortellini Carbonara
4 T butter
6 oz prosciutto
3 T flour
2 cups heavy cream (though I sometimes cut it in half with milk)
1 cup cooked peas
1 tsp ground pepper
3 T fresh Parmesan
1 T chopped Italian Parsley
1 LB cheese tortellini

Melt butter in pan, sauté prosciutto (low/medium heat) for a minute, add flour and cook, stirring for another 3 minutes. Whisk in cream, stirring a bit, let thicken for 7-10 minutes (aim for low simmer). Add the P’s: peas, pepper, Parmesan and parsley. Lower heat and keep warm. Make pasta, drain, toss and serve. Pass the peas please! I always add extra pepper, parsley and Parmesan on top…

I promised I would make it, photo it and showcase it on my blog: a little, lovely, Italianesque dessert fondly known as Tiramisu. This recipe is borrowed from Barefoot Contessa, in her cookbook Family Style.

I am not trying to be boring, because this dessert is far from that: it is just that it is late in the day on Friday and my brain is on fumes. Or has been fumigated or is fuming. Whatever the case, time to go sneak the last little bites of Tiramisu out of my fridge, maybe pour an iced version of a bailey’s coffee to go with it, throw my feet on the nearest coffee table and call it a week. May your weekend be full of relaxation and fun, grand and inspiring conversation (good for defumigating the brain) and divine desserts such as this one:

Tiramisu
6 extra-large egg yolks, room temp.
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup good dark rum, divided
1 1/2 cups brewed espresso, divided
16 to 17 ounces mascarpone cheese
30 Italian ladyfingers
Bittersweet chocolate, shaved or grated

Whisk the egg yolks and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment on high speed for about 5 minutes, or until very thick and light yellow. Lower the speed to medium and add 1/4 cup rum, 1/4 cup espresso, and mascarpone. Whisk until smooth. Combine remaining 1/4 cup rum and 1 1/4 cups espresso in a shallow bowl. Dip 1 side of each ladyfinger in the espresso/rum mixture and line the bottom of a 9 by 12 by 2-inch dish. Pour half the espresso cream mixture evenly on top. Dip 1 side of the remaining ladyfingers in the espresso/rum mixture and place them in a second layer in the dish. Pour the rest of the espresso cream over the top. Smooth the top and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate overnight. Before serving, sprinkle the top with shaved chocolate.

Note: To make espresso for this recipe in your electric drip coffee maker, use enough water for 4 cups of coffee plus 1/3 cup of ground espresso.

So we are touching up the paint in our home—fixing the dings, cracks and smears from fast and full living—and I needed to take inventory on what paint I had on hand, and what paint I needed to buy. And guess what I found? I found I have a problem. My paint colors are not normal. Either they hired a foodie to name paint, or I am like a bug to a light when it comes to food.

In this case, it appears that I think of paint as another venue for all things food. Here are the paint cans I found labeled, affixed to my pantry shelves: Bay Leaf, Pale Avocado, Caramel Latte, Split Pea, Dark Celery (seriously, I am thinking: coincidence?), Peanut Shell and Jack o’ Lantern. Sounds more like something I would put on my plate rather than my walls, but hey: what can I say? Food warms my soul, whether it is in the sauté pan, on the grill or apparently, surrounding my every move, day and night, head to toe like a food fight gone out of control and now forever a part of every wall of my home.

I know, that is what I was thinking: no tomatoes? Next wall I paint better be Tomato Blossom, Heirloom Orange, or Roma Tomato. Or how about the color of the flesh of an enormous beefsteak tomato? And to be sure, I already have lots of ‘dirt’ on my walls: cremini mushroom brown, whole wheat brown, chocolate mole brown—hues bragging of their ability to cultivate, nurture and sustain. A pun to make my father proud: I find brown to be very grounding, indeed.

But back to the Pale Avocado: this color proudly adorns my kitchen walls. When not part of a wall, I love using real avocados for this very green guacamole. My lovely friend Kristen, from Portland, spliced this recipe together and I frantically wrote the recipe down. Now I make it all the time:

Guacamole
1/2 juice lemon
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
big pinch kosher salt
small green pepper (jalapeno, annaheim, etc.)
3 avocados
1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Mash/blend together. I used my muddler and it worked beautifully. Kids—big and small—can also just mush it together with their fingers. Try not to flick any on the walls, or if you do and your walls are green, like mine, perhaps it will just blend…

This Butter & Sage Ravioli certainly qualifies as a default dinner: it is easy, quick, mindless AND delicious. It is perfect for a weaknight meal (weak as in: out of time/energy/ideas to figure out ‘what’s for dinner?’).

And I say ‘weak’ lightly; by no means am I suggesting you are not an iron chef. It is simply an acknowledgment that midweek meals have a reputation for being an afterthought, or may even feel like just one more requirement in the middle of our harried routines. When not imitating iron chef on weekends, as I am sure you all do, have your list of default dinners—brilliantly easy midweek meals—on the ready:

Butter & Sage Ravioli
5 T Butter
12 or so Sage leaves, whole
10 oz. Ravioli, cooked
(optional): Parmesan for dusting

Place butter in skillet on medium; when foam subsides—and before butter is brown—add sage leaves. Cook for under a minute, flipping leaves once. Pour over ravioli and serve.