News Trend My Homemade Cobb Salad|Actual

I was too rushed for rectangles tonight. I just arranged my toppings in a circle of mini -heaps. My husband always opts to distribute each ingredient evenly across his bed of lettuce, kinda like a pizza. I have no idea what this says about him, but I sincerely question his judgment.

Once upon a time, in my previous life as a swinging '80s public accounting professional, I fell in love with the Cobb salad.

My favorite female colleagues, all swinging accounting professionals in their own right, and I would often slip down to the City Tavern, a bistro-style restaurant on the street level of our rocking office tower at 33 West Monroe in Chicago's Loop, and snap up some Cobb salads to go.

Back upstairs, we would hole up in an open conference room or crowd around the desk in one of our offices, and excitedly crack open our styrofoam clamshells.

And there it would be, in all of its glory. A rectangular bed of crisp iceberg lettuce, upon which were balanced six smaller rectangles of finely chopped ingredients:

Carrots. Chicken. Tomatoes.

Bacon. Cucumbers. Hard-boiled eggs. .

Three vegetables and three proteins. Placed in an alternating pattern, with a generous serving of dressing on the side.

The City Tavern Cobb salad was, in a word, delicious.

And I have nothing but the fondest memories of eating them.

* * * * *

Fast forward a few years, skipping over the decade or two when my growing girls were not so keen on lettuce-based meals for dinner, and the Cobb salad has become a sentimental favorite at my table.

I'm not sure that my family exactly loves them, but they know that I do.

Especially during the summer, I love them for a lazy evening meal. Earlier in the day, I cook up the chicken and bacon in the panggang, keeping the heat (and mess) to an absolute minimum. Along with hard-boiling the eggs, I can get all the dirty work out of the way, and head back outdoors to play. Then, when the late afternoon sun is streaming into my kitchen, all that's left to do is chop a few harmless vegetables.

I've made a few refinements on the original City Tavern recipe that suit me well, and I'm always up for a bit of tinkering, depending on what I may find (or not find) in my refrigerator.

But here is my most favorite, tried-and-true version of the ever-delectable Cobb salad:

Ingredients:

Per person:

dua chicken tenderloins, roasted in the panggang and cubed.

Tiga strips of bacon, roasted in the panggang and cut into small strips.

2 hard-boiled eggs, cooled and cubed.

1/4 cup diced cheddar cheese

1 large carrot, washed and grated

1/2 cucumber, peeled, quartered, and sliced.

1/2 homegrown tomato, washed and cubed.

1 plateful of Boston lettuce, washed and torn

1/dua cup of homemade ranch dressing

Directions:

1. Preheat the panggang to 425 degrees. Place chicken and bacon in a cast iron skillet - if you're making modest quantities, they can share the same pan - and cook for about 20 minutes, till chicken is cooked through and the bacon is agreeably crispy. Cover and allow to cool to room temperature.

2.. Fill a saucepan with cold water; add the eggs and cook on high heat. Once boiling, turn the heat down to medium and cook for five minutes. Turn off the heat and let the eggs sit in the hot water for another five minutes, then flush with cold water and let the eggs sit in cold water for a third round of five minutes. Peel immediately, and pop them into the fridge.

3. Prepare the cheese, vegetables, and lettuce; park them in the fridge as well. If you can't get your hands on garden-fresh tomatoes, just skip over them and choose another veggie.

4. Just before serving, cut the chicken, bacon and eggs into bite-sized pieces. Pull everything out of the fridge and arrange each ingredient in a separate serving bowl. Serve with dressing on the side.

* * * * *

I know, that's a lot of bowls. But trust me, the table will look beautiful and each diner will have the fun of artfully arranging their ingredients just so upon their beds of lettuce.

And if you want to be extra cool, create little rectangles out of each ingredient, alternating proteins and vegetables upon your bed of lettuce.

Because according to this swinging '80s public accounting professional, that is definitely the way to go.

* * * * *

For the recipe of my homemade ranch dressing, stay tuned.

* * * * *

Ready for more stories about my most dearly beloved, tried-and-true homemade meals?

My Homemade Lasagna

My Homemade Macaroni and Cheese

My Homemade Spaghetti and Meatballs

My Homemade Grilled Cheese Sandwich

My Homemade Cold Tuna Noodle

My Homemade Beef Stir Fry

My Homemade Beef Stew

My Homemade Parmesan Chicken Nuggets

My Homemade Enchiladas

My Homemade Chicken Salad

My Homemade Cranberry Apple Crisp

My Homemade Pasta Primavera

My Homemade Pad Thai

My Homemade Quiche

My Homemade Potato Salad

My Homemade Cobb Salad

My Homemade French Toast

News Trend New Kid On The Block |Actual

On my last day in Danang, I decided to go out for a walk.

Ordinary as this may sound, it was quite the novel event. In Vietnam, one does not walk much of anywhere.

One rides. Motorbikes are the preferred mode of getting around.

But just this once, I left my rented Nouvo parked in the shady garage, and headed out to take a walk around the block.

^ This year, my daughter has moved out from the older neighborhoods of Danang City and taken an apartment across the river on the new side of town. New hotels, resorts and spas springs up right and left, as the tourist industry capitalizes on the beautiful sweeping South China Sea beach, and my daughter's high rise joins a bustling new area of residential homes and flats.

A tall stand of palms guards the entrance to my daughter's building.

^ Purple flowers against the white walls of this villa are punctuated by red letters from a nearby hotel  floating against the blue sky.

^ The first few homes are chic and deliciously designed. Geometric gates on stone pillars fringed with blooming vines offer a glimpse into this darling courtyard.

^ Pink and white bougainvillea - seemingly the official flower of Southeast Asia - flow toward a tiny alley, one of the few visual reminders that this is not an elegant American neighborhood.

^ Orange flowers against a blue wall with a pair of floating French doors. Though still charming, this residence on the other side of the block is older and less well kept than the others.

^ Back to the ritzy side of the street. This grand home stands tall and proud, with the Vietnamese flag flying at the third floor balcony.

^ Another gorgeous modern courtyard draws me in. As much as I love the greenery and wooden vertical fencing, I really want to hop inside and see where that staircase leads.

^ One of the few other high rises on the block, this steep, stark apartment canyon filled with steel windows and air conditioning units sets a somber tone. but the peekaboo window out front with some greenery poking through adds a touch of much needed playfulness.

^ Now we're back where we began, at the foot of my daughter's building.

* * * * *

And if you enjoyed stepping around that block with me, here's another little treat I offer to you.

You're welcome.

News Trend Racing With Rabbits|Actual

On a rainy Friday afternoon, Gracie and I set off on our usual walk.

We never know what we might encounter as we make our daily rounds. But something interesting usually happens.

As always, we cruise out of the neighborhood and down the sidewalk for a couple blocks till we come to the lane that runs along the back property of the high school. We take a hard left onto that lane, and follow along past athletic fields, the first footbridge, and two portable classrooms on our right.

After the portables, we make a hard right onto a short concrete walkway that leads to a second footbridge which, like the first, carries us over a forest ravine.

And from that walkway, to the right, we get a long, clean view of the lawn behind the portables.

This, my friends, is prime rabbit country and today as we passed this very spot, Gracie froze.

And, you know, when my hunting dog freezes up, I freeze too. That's what we humans are expected to do in these situations. Stand still, be quiet, and try to figure out what your dog has already found.

Sure enough, there on that green lawn, just a few feet from the railing, Gracie had scented a big brown bunny.

The rabbit sat. Motionless.

Gracie stared without a twitch.

And I wondered who would break this stalemate.

True fact. When my girl is on the hunt, she has the patience of a saint. My money was on the rabbit.

Sure enough, the rabbit gave a quick quiver, and with a flash of its bouncy white tail, suddenly dashed off down that long, green strip of lawn behind the portables.

Instantly, Gracie leaped between the rails and rocketed after her.

And in the split second, as I stood at that railing watching my dog run off at lightning speed and noting how soon she would reach the end of her very long rope and likely yank my arm straight off, I made a quick decision.

I let go of the rope.

The high school grounds were deserted. A steady rain was falling, and we had not seen a soul since we left the main street. Surely I was taking a chance in setting my dog free, especially in her adrenaline-charged state of mind. But it felt like the right thing to do.

Well. My decision felt great as I watched my beautiful girl sail down that green lawn, a picture of athleticism and grace.

And I felt fine as I watched the rabbit race all the way down to the end of the second portable, and make a hard right turn around the far corner of the building.

But when Gracie continued her pursuit and also disappeared around that corner, I might have had a second and altogether unsettling thought.

Shoot, I murmured. That rabbit can keep running for quite a ways, back along the lane, down the paths we had just come, and who knows how far into the forest. And my dog is in red hot pursuit.

So, in a wink of an eye, I chose to act. I decided to retrace my steps down the concrete walkway, out onto the lane, and along the front of the portables to see if I could find any sign of our two sprinters.

I got as far as the first portable when I thought again. What if, I conjectured, Gracie finishes her romp and goes looking for me? If she's smart, she'll go back to where she left me. But I won't be there.

So in the wink of a second eye, I turned on my heel to head back to the place where we parted ways.

And that's when I heard it.

A familiar and heartening sound.

The scritch-scritch-scritch of Gracie's footsteps in a brisk, all-business trot along the concrete walkway up ahead,

Sure enough, she had obviously finished her race with the rabbit, hopped back up between the rails to the walkway where she had left me, and with me not there, came looking for me.

Her eyes met mine. I smiled, and she grinned back, clearly quite pleased with herself.

We met each other in the middle of the lane, and I gave her a good ear rub, a solid chest thumping, and a chorus of compliments.

We were both quite chuffed with her cleverness.

And then, having entirely enjoyed our unexpected adventure, Gracie and I walked back home where her well-earned dinner was waiting.

News Trend Wake Up Sunshine|Actual

Back in the days of my impressionable youth, this song captured my fancy. I always imagined it as a love song, a man calling his beloved to join him not just in the new day but in the challenges and commitments they face together to make the world a better place.

I was quite the idealistic and poetic little thing, wasn't I?

And now these days, when I wake up in the mornings, to find my husband long gone for work and my dog snoozing away in bed beside me, I sometimes wonder if the lyrics weren't written just for us.

See what you think.

Wake up, sunshine

Open up your sleepy eyes for me

Can't have you hiding

I've been waiting all the night

People waiting for the light

Sunshine, sunshine

Wake up sunshine

Let me feel your warm sunlight on me

Can't have you hiding

Night was long and night was cold

But today we're one day older

Sunshine, you make my life sunshine

You know I'm talking to you

I know you're knowing it too

So just stop hiding your face

Just open your eyes

Just smile your smile

I'm talking to you

Wake up sunshine

Ooh it's good to have you here with me

Can't have you hiding

Can't imagine what I'd do but

Feel too lonely without you

Sunshine, sunshine

You got to wake up girl

And face the day ahead.

* * * * *

Go ahead, listen to the music as well and bring some sunshine into your day.

Wake Up Sunshine by Chicago

News Trend Sweetness|Actual

Ranger's new post-walk trick: he stretches on these stones up by the front door to cool off and positions himself so he can drink out of the birdbath at the same time.

"Your dog is so sweet! I mean it. He's such a sweetheart."

I was barely within earshot when the woman approaching me on the sidewalk began her stream of compliments. And looking down at the friendly red fellow wagging along next to me, I couldn't help but agree. Little did this woman know, however, just how right she was.

The day before, Ranger and I had been tailing another pair of walkers, a woman and a small brown and white dog. As we slowly caught up with them, the fluffy pup kept us on his radar: glancing back over his shoulder, slowing his pace to gawk at us, and barking on and off. There was a sharpness to his tone, but given that his head was about ten inches off the sidewalk, neither Ranger or I viewed him as much of a threat.

As the gap between us closed and we came up on the heels of this pair, the woman finally turned around and spoke. "My dog would really like to say hello to your dog. Is that okay?"

Well. Since Ranger was attacked and gravely injured by another dog a few months back, I've been outrageously protective of him and careful about his interactions with unfamiliar dogs. But this little dog hardly seemed dangerous so I said, "Sure." I paused and Ranger stopped beside me. The little dog approached and my gentle giant slowly lowered his head until the two dogs carefully touched noses.

Snap. Snap, SNAP.

Without warning or provocation, the little dog bit Ranger right in the face. Three times. Fast.

Poor startled Ranger swiftly pulled his head out of danger and took three quick steps back, all in one fluid motion. He didn't bark or snarl or snap. He didn't make any forward movement. He remained perfectly silent.

The little dog's owner shrieked in surprise, scooped up her dog as if he were in peril, and assured me, "He's never done anything like that before." Quickly, she walked off, her dog in her arms.

I held Ranger's head in my hands as I gave his face a good looking over for wounds. It wasn't until I got home and found the blood smeared on my wrist that I realized he had a gash on the tip of his ear. Blood crusted in his fur and dripped down onto the grass as I ran to get a cloth to clean him up.

Looking back, the whole incident was just further proof  of Ranger's gentle disposition and peaceful soul. I couldn't be more proud of how my dog has responded to his attackers. I couldn't be more grateful to have such a fine animal as my pet.

And so, when the woman on the sidewalk told me one more time, "I've seen him out walking so many times and he is always so sweet," I smiled at her and nodded. But in my head, I was rhinking, "You just have no idea how truly right you are."

News Trend Worth Every Penny|Actual

Last April, whenTarget launched a new design collaboration with Marimekko, I knew I would have to treat myself to a little something.

Designer collaborations are a thing where fancy pants big name designers dream up some special new products in their classic style that Target then produces on the super cheap and sells to the masses.

And my obsession withFinnish designer Marimekko dates back to the early eighties and a set of pink bedsheets - one flowered and one striped - that literally made me smile every time I put them on my bed.

So after scrolling through a long list of Marimekko products on Target.Com and strolling through the special brick-and-mortar displays, I settled on an iconic Marimekko graphic black and white outdoor rug.

I know. Maybe not the most practical or necessary purchase I ever made in my life. With a price tag in the range of $90, I felt a little guilty about blowing a C-note on a pure frivolity

But then this happened.

^ Ranger, it turns out, LOVES the concept of a Finnish outdoor rug.

In summers past, while his humans worked and played in the backyard, he would anxiously pace back and forth between a shady but secluded napping place under a bush and a sunnier spot with better sight lines that always left him panting and hot.

In short, my boy spent many a summer day feeling stressed, uncomfortable, and unsure of where to park himself.

^ Other sights and scenes from the back patio that Ranger cares less about.

But with our new Marimekko rug, my boy now snoozes in style and comfort, right in the middle of the action.

And while I realize that a hundred dollars is a bit much to spend on what has essentially become a designer dog bed, seeing my good boy Ranger resting easy in these golden days of his life is well worth every penny.

News Trend My Homemade French Toast|Actual

Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?

In the titanic clash of American breakfast carbs, I grew up in a pancake home. My three brothers ate pancakes and Log Cabin syrup like they were going out of style; my mother literally could not flap those jacks fast enough to keep up with my siblings' flying forks.

My appetite was bit more subdued. I never really got on board with the pancakes, but for quite a while, my Michigan winter middle school breakfasts featured a parade of Eggo toaster waffles. Of course, I loved them because they were store bought, in an era when most of us somehow thought store bought was bigger, better and brighter than anything home made. But eventually I realized that Eggos tasted like cardboard, and my easy spread margarine didn't even melt properly in the little squares, and that's where I drew the line.

All this while, my husband was down there in Ohio living the French toast life. Made from proper unsliced French bread and smothered in real butter and proper maple syrup.

I had no idea such things existed.

Once we got married, he got me on board the French toast train and I have never looked back.

Now I'll be the first to admit that hearty breakfasts are not my thing. As a delayed sleep phase sleeper, my body has no interest in morning feasts, and so my early bird husband quickly realized he was not going to get many French toast breakfasts.

So we struck a compromise that has lasted over the ages.

French toast for dinner.

My daughters are all agreed with us. Breakfast for dinner is a concept that works for us, and though we affectionately dabble with pancakes and waffles from time to time, we are hands down a French toast family.

* * * * *

French toast recipes are a dime a dozen and it's not too hard to find one that works.

Far more important is the quality of ingredients. Raising my kids on real butter and true maple syrup is one of the greatest satisfactions of my parenting life - I know that sounds janggal but it's true. As far as the bread goes, there's a mid-price-range store brand loaf of unsliced French bread at my store that has a good crispy crust but that certain cheap squishiness on the inside that takes on holy qualities when sopped with milk and fried up in the griddle.

Also, spices. Everyone has their own ideas about how French toast should be seasoned and there's no point in arguing which is best. Many cooks opt for cinnamon, ginger, or a good hit of sugar. I prefer a generous allotment of freshly grated nutmeg and a pour of real vanilla,and that has become our family standard.

Ingredients:

1 unsliced loaf of French bread, cut into thick slices

6 eggs

1/2 cup milk

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon vanilla

Canola oil for cooking

Maple syrup, warmed

Butter at room temperature.

Directions:

1. Slice the bread to the desired thickness - I like a solid inch. Lay the slices out on a baking rack to dry out a bit before cooking.

2. Whisk together the eggs, milk, nutmeg, and vanilla.

3. Working in batches that will fit into your frying pan or griddle, soak the bread in the egg mixture. Use a baking dish just big enough to hold your batch; pour in just enough egg mixture to saturate one side of the bread, then flip the slices over and add more egg mixture. Take care to pace yourself so that your bread and egg mixture will come out more or less even in the end.

4. As the first batch soaks, heat up a pan or griddle to medium high. Add a tablespoon or two of canola, let it heat, then add the bread. Cook it at a heat high enough to get a good golden glow on the bread but not too hot that it burns. On my stove using a cast iron skillet, medium high works well for the first batch, but then I notch it back to medium for the following batches, and add more canola oil as needed. Serve immediately.

* * * * *

Let me say that again: French toast is best served fresh off the stove. Any time spent waiting around creates cold or even worse, soggy specimens, and that is an insult to the dish. The sad truth is that a devoted French toast chef must forgo her own meal to keep cooking as her clientele eats. But here is a special and high guarded industry secret: I save the last batch of golden crisp bread for myself to eat piping hot off my very own plate. And I savor every delicious bite as my family watches in admiration.

A well-deserved finale to the glorious spectacle that is French toast.

* * * * *

Ready for more stories about my most dearly beloved, tried-and-true homemade meals?

My Homemade Lasagna

My Homemade Macaroni and Cheese

My Homemade Spaghetti and Meatballs

My Homemade Grilled Cheese Sandwich

My Homemade Cold Tuna Noodle

My Homemade Beef Stir Fry

My Homemade Beef Stew

My Homemade Parmesan Chicken Nuggets

My Homemade Enchiladas

My Homemade Chicken Salad

My Homemade Cranberry Apple Crisp

My Homemade Pasta Primavera

My Homemade Pad Thai

My Homemade Quiche

My Homemade Potato Salad

My Homemade Cobb Salad

My Homemade French Toast