In the words of prize fishermen the world 'round: I have a nibble!
      One of the 44 agencies I queried has requested a synopsis and the first five chapters of my manuscript! To quote from their email, they are "very interested" in my novel. I would put in a smiley face emoticon here, but for it to accurately represent my feelings it would need to be about four feet wide, and most computer screens simply do not accommodate that sort of graphic.
      In my elation, I had to breathe for an hour and a half and go walk a mile before I could gather my thoughts enough to write this post. When I read the email I literally gasped and shouted incoherently--so loudly, in fact, my husband panicked that I had seen another "water bug"* in the kitchen. Then I jumped up and down like a manic five year-old and produced enthusiastic noises (not sure that completely removed his concern, but at least he wasn't looking for insects at that point). It's still several steps away from being published - heck, it's still several steps away from even signing an agent - but it's a START! It means there are POSSIBILITIES! And best of all, it means I'm not entirely delusional: I do, in fact, have the potential to write something that somebody, somewhere, wants to read. For lack of a better description, it feels like I have a half dozen leprechauns bouncing on pogosticks in a perfect spring meadow that seems to have spontaneously appeared somewhere in the region of my stomach. It's a wonderful feeling!
     Also, oddly enough, it makes me want to eat health food. Which is strange, I would have expected I would want to go out and celebrate with an enormous serving of Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream, but instead I feel like eating a crisp salad of farmer's market produce. I'll probably hedge my bets and do both.
     I am still waiting to hear back from 38 agencies. Not all of them will reply; many make it abundantly clear on their websites that they only contact writers if they're interested. I won't be certain of who's interested and who isn't until the end of August, which is the furthest out any of them say to expect a response. But in the meantime, I have an email to reply to--with very important attachments!
     Wish me luck!


*For those of you who are less learned in household pests, "water bug" refers to the American Cockroach, a large, brown, ugly f@*%3& who fortunately seems to travel solo, but likes to make an appearance in my tiny apartment once or twice a year. Midwesterners are used to this, apparently, but Pacific Northwesterners such as myself are gloriously ignorant of roaches, and whenever I see one I have the sort of meltdown one might expect in somebody who had just witnessed a horrific traffic accident occur a few feet away. My husband likes to remedy their appearance with a diabolic spray of "Raid." I, in my panic, generally go for the "rapid application of extreme pressure with the sole of your shoe" method of disposal.

      As you may recall (and you have my permission to do so with great joy), 2014 is officially the Year of the Pie (because I said so). So every month I am making at least one pie, partially as a way to try new recipes and partially as a way to...well...eat pie.
      Yum.
      Only June's pie is actually a tart. May had two pies, a blackberry pie (cheating because they weren't in season, but there are some things that simply must be made with one's mother) and a cherry pie. They were both thoroughly pie, looking like something right out of "Little House on the Prairie" and tasting of simple, scrumptious fruit. They were also tried and true recipes I've been making since middle school. So this month I got a little fancy and made a Strawberries & Jalapeño Tart.
      The inspiration for this fine piece of pastry was twofold: firstly, strawberries are best - best - BEST when they are fresh and local! One can actually forget what those precious ruby fruits of early summer are supposed to taste like, when one has been reduced to eating those mostly white, hard lumps being forced in greenhouses in California. True strawberries are scarlet through and through, and sweet as jam! They require no heat, no sweetener, nothing but a rinse to render them perfect in every way, so I chose a tart as the best means of showing off the superb berries.

     My second source of inspiration was a batch of marvelous jalapeño simple syrup I made the other week. The syrup was a key ingredient for a cocktail my brother insisted I should make, which he called the Basically Better Bourbon Beverage. It was sort of like a mint julep, and quite tasty on a muggy evening, but I wound up with something like two cups of thick syrup with a blush of heat, and I simply don't drink that many cocktails. But I have had some lovely strawberry jalapeño lemonade in the past, and the memory of that flavor combo inspired the a tasty experiment.
      The tart was an overwhelming success, having the perfect balance of flavors and just screaming "SUMMER!!!" at the top of its metaphorical lungs. I dedicate this recipe to my brother for bringing the syrup into my life, and happily share the recipe with you!



Z.D.'s Strawberry Jalapeño Summer Tart

Crust:

     For the crust, I used one-third of my own Pie Crust Recipe (see my entry from May 23rd, 2014), rolled out and pressed into a 10 inch tart pan with a removable bottom. I lined the crust with foil and filled it with pie weights (dried beans work just as well if you don't have a bag of these clay beauties), and then baked it at 375º F. After ten minutes I removed the foil and weights, then baked the crust for another ten minutes. The result was a lovely, flaky crust just waiting to be filled. Let cool to room temperature.



Filling:

- 2 oz. high quality white chocolate, roughly chopped
- 8 oz. cream cheese, softened at room temperature for about 30 minutes
- 4 Tablespoons of Jalapeño Simple Syrup, divided (recipe to follow)
- 1 & 1/2 Cup ripe, fresh strawberries, rinsed and stemmed
- 2 Tablespoons of fresh mint leaves, washed and finely chopped

     Melt the white chocolate, either in a microwave on ten second intervals, stirring in between, or on a stove over low heat, stirring frequently. When chocolate is melted, brush over the basin of your tart crust, then place in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. The white chocolate doesn't add much in the way of flavor, but it's not supposed to--it's to prevent the crust from getting soggy once the rest of the filling is in place. We nibbled this tart over three days and thanks to this trick, the crust never got sog-ified!

      Using a hand-held electric mixer, blend the cream cheese with two tablespoons of the jalapeño syrup. Spread this lovely mixture into the tart shell.



     Slice berries in half lengthwise and lay cut side down in a pretty pattern over the cream cheese mixture, covering as much as possible. (Or if you REALLY love strawberries, just toss the stems and place the whole berries point up for a modern flair!) Brush with the remaining syrup, then sprinkle with mint and serve!



The Jalapeño flavor in this tart is mild, bringing a grassy note and just a touch of heat. If you want to ramp it up (and I do think that could be tasty), I would finely mince some fresh jalapeño and stir it into the cream cheese mixture. Or you could sprinkle on just a bit with the mint. Just don't go over board, or you'll over-power the strawberries, which are really the star of this show.

Jalapeño Syrup: 

- 2 Cups brown sugar
- 1 Cup water
- 2 jalapeño chiles, stemmed and halved lengthwise

     Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan and bring just to a boil, stirring frequently. Reduce heat and simmer for five minutes, then cover, remove from heat, and allow to steep for 20 minutes. Strain into a large jar and keep chilled until ready to use. The finished product will look like very thick maple syrup, or slightly thinned dark corn syrup.



The nice thing about simple syrup is that it will keep for up to six months in the fridge so long as it's in a sealed container. This particular version is tasty in lemonade, cocktails, even stirring into iced tea if you're adventurous! Also use as a dressing for fruit salad or salsas, or pour over hoe cakes. Happy summer deliciousness!

      And just like that, the query letters have been sent. All 44 of them. To see what fortune is gleaned from these meagre thrusts of vanity, check my Publishing Process page on the lefthand sidebar.
      If I sound somewhat blearg, that's because I am. After weeks of preparation, the final cutting, pasting and emailing was all done in a matter of hours--and those hours were basically like being on the most intense roller-coasters in the world, consecutively, non-stop. My skull was pretending it had been partially filled with helium, doing that tipsy-light thing. My stomach was impersonating several pieces of crumpled paper being blown about in a dry wind against a brick wall. Just like a roller-coaster, it was simultaneously elating and terrifying, relinquishing control at last, putting myself entirely at the mercy of outside forces. And, just like a roller-coaster, after doing it for too long I feel exhausted and somewhat nauseated.
      I intended to add this month's pie recipe to this post, but frankly I'm too wiped to type anymore. I'm going to find a healthy dose of chocolate and spend the evening watching something childish and animated to refresh my spirits. Tomorrow there will be pie.

      Oh, and trust me: this pie will be worth the wait!

      The agent query process continues. And continues. And continues. Find the agent, research the agent, research their successes, research their interests, read their blog, read their tweets, and try to read some books they've represented. If all this wasn't recommended by highly regarded professionals, I would feel like a stalker.
      It's very possible I may be making this more difficult than it strictly needs to be, but I know how high my anxiety will be as I await responses to my query letters, and I don't want to be kicking myself for not going over every query letter with a fine-tooth comb. My best efforts are still going to be a tad raw--that's inevitable with any new writing format. Give me ten years of writing query letters and I'll be able to toss them off like Shakespeare penning limericks. (Ok, maybe not with that level of ease, but certainly more comfortably than my present nail-biting state.) But I want to spare myself the forehead-smacking hindsight that follows shoddy preparation.
     At least I know that my queries will be far from the worst that any agent receives this year--or possibly this month! I've heard stories of agents and editors receiving manuscripts with cash taped inside, toys attached, 8 x 11 glossy photos of the writer included (are we trying to get published or cast in a Broadway musical?), and even one I'll never forget where some creative individual fastened a disposable diaper around the manuscript and included a note reading, "Please take care of my baby."
      The editor who received that last one didn't even bother to look at the title before ditching the thing straight into the trash.
     Still, in my perfect world, a query letter like this would land me the best agent ever:

Dear So-and-So,

      How's it hanging? You don't know me, and I don't know you, but you represent great novels and I wrote one. It's a match made in heaven. Here's the manuscript; I recommend reading that with some slices of plum, a wedge of Humboldt Fog, fresh baguette and a glass of Willamette Valley pinot noir. Chilled, of course.

Looking forward to your call,

Z.D.

     Ah, if only....
     As it is, I should probably have all 45 of my agent queries out by the end of the week. I plan on celebrating with a visit to my favorite patisserie. I am also starting to suspect I may have been one of Pavlov's dogs in a previous life.

      It's that time of year in Ohio where the green of spring is fully sprouted, and the air is heavy with storms. The result is a feeling of lushness that makes every residential sidewalk, every overgrown ditch, every carefully planted park seem luxurious. It's as though nature has finally reached a point where she can relax; having made it through the winter, she has pushed forth new growth and nurtured it to the point of confidence. The heat and potential drought of summer is not yet come, but the risk of a late frost is far, far gone.
      Every tree branch heavy with vibrance reminds me of a young adult sprawling on a couch after receiving their first raise: the world is their oyster, indeed.
      Such a piquant moment in the season inspires me. It's a short story in light, in color, in scent and in sight. I wish I could bottle it, and sip it on cold winter days like a potent liquor. I wish I could stir it into lemonade, and enter the brew in a contest at a country fair (I'd win for sure). I wish I could rub it into the skin of my hands when a long day of work leaves my skin looking two decades older, and see time reverse itself over the landscape between my knuckles. I wish I could use it as lip gloss, and kiss my husband deeply.

      Summer in neigh, and in the culinary countryside of America that means one thing, and one thing only: barbecue. (Or, for those of you who think the actual word looks too French: BBQ.)
      Americans take their barbecue very seriously. How seriously? If I had a dollar for every barbecue competition, for every "summer grilling" edition of the food magazines, for every BBQ special episode of a food show, for every guest grill expert on other TV shows, and for every TV show that is specifically about "grill masters" and their elaborate smokers, I would have enough money to buy a whole life-pastured cow and have it butchered just for me.
      Yum.
      Coming from the Pacific Northwest, I did not have a real understanding of barbecue for most of my life. Oh, we can grill up in that corner of the country - we can do things with a cedar plank and a fresh salmon fillet that will give you a deeper understanding of why ancient civilizations worshipped the ocean - but we are largely naive in the ways of true, slow-cooked, long-smoked meats. Tasting real pulled pork made this obvious. It took an episode of "Good Eats," however (Season 7, Episode 4, to be exact), to tell my WHY it was so different. Then I made a couple more forays into states like Tennessee, Texas and Louisiana, and it all came together into a delicious double epiphany: a) BBQ is proof that there is a heaven for livestock, and b) I have neither the skill nor the equipment to make real barbecue myself.
      But that's Ok, because somebody has to bring the side-dishes. America's Deep South may make unreasonably good pulled pork and brisket, but their side dishes tend to be...um...interesting. For example: who in their right mind serves macaroni and cheese as a vegetable? In addition to that surprising and unfortunately all-too-often pasty accompaniment, other traditional BBQ sides include some variation of baked beans (tasty, but easy to mess up), collard greens (tasty, but often with so much pork in it that it's even greasier than the BBQ itself), and coleslaw (pre-shredded brassicas from a bag with too much mayo). It has occurred to me that perhaps BBQ sides may follow the 1980's bridesmaid rule: make 'em ugly to increase the appeal of the main event. But just as I did my damnedest to allow my bridesmaids to be as gorgeous as they truly are, I also want to ensure that each dish I serve (or rather, bring to somebody else's BBQ because they have the skills & equipment) will knock your socks off. So in honor of summer, I here present one of my variations on a typical cook-out side. Make, take, and bask in the compliments.


Z.D.'s Thai-influenced Slaw

Dressing:
3 green onions, roots removed, roughly chopped
1/2 bunch fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 resh serrano chile, roughly chopped (use 2 if you like more heat)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 Tablespoon ground coriander
1 Cup mayonnaise, or vegan equivalent (use more if you like it thicker)

Veggies:
1 small head purple cabbage, quartered, cored, & finely shredded
3 carrots, peeled & julienned
4 large broccoli stems, peeled & julienned
1/2 Cup fresh pineapple, finely chopped (optional)
8 basil leaves, chiffonade (that's finely shredded for those of you who don't read Julia Child's cookbooks for fun)

- FOR THE DRESSING: If you have a good blender, toss in all the ingredients & blend until ridiculously smooth and a pretty green color. If using a food processor, toss in all ingredients except mayo, and process into a rough paste by using 2-3 second pulses and scraping down the sides. Then add the mayo, and process until the dressing is smooth, scraping sides as necessary. Dressing can be made up to four days ahead, just pour it into a jar and stick in your fridge (but it is best the day it is made).

- TO ASSEMBLE THE SLAW: Toss all the veggies into a large bowl (large bowl, mind you--this makes a lot), then add the pineapple if using. Toss until combined, then add in dressing to taste & toss to mix. Finally, garnish with shredded basil on the top (the basil will bruise if you toss it in, & gets brown if you use it too early--do this lovely & aromatic garnish at the end for best results).

If you - like me - are not a pit master, serve this next to grilled meats like Alton Brown's skirt steak (so easy, and so tasty), a fruit salad with a bit of fresh ginger, and finish the meal with something coconutty, like a cream pie or a tropical-flavored ice cream.

      Whenever I get sick enough to stay in bed, I think, "The silver lining to all this is that I will have more time to read and write!" Then whatever germs have invaded my body laugh maniacally and render my brain about as useful as a mealy apple. The problem here, apparently, is that my psyche suppresses all memories of previous illness, so I forget how physical ailment - particularly anything that results in sinus congestion - depletes my cognitive energy. Then I not only spend a few days in bed feeling sick, I spend them feeling sick and disappointed.
     The only exertion on the part of my imagination at such times is usually limited to spontaneous bursts of sickness-themed parodies of Broadway musical tunes, such as "Hello Mucus" (a variation of "Hello Dolly"), or "Do You Hear the People Sneeze?"
     This illness is why, after I was on such a roll, I utterly failed at making any progress in my final story editing OR my agent queries in the last week. I wish my explanation was that I was doing awesome things in Seattle, but the truth is that I was spending an inordinate amount of time on a couch, working my way through two boxes of "Puffs Plus," and watching old episodes of "True Blood" and "My Cat From Hell" (I <3 you Jackson Galaxy)! Which isn't to say my trip was devoid of joy; I got to see lots of friends and do wonderful things with family before the invading microorganisms kicked my ass. But then my nose got so stuffy I couldn't taste my food (one of the saddest effects of a passing cold), and my lethargy rendered writing impossible.
      So now I'm back in Ohio, and my illness if 95% gone. It's tempting to feel gloomy at the irony of it all, but fortunately I have an excellent deterrent to such self-pity indulgences: a four-legged, medium-furred, green-eyed beauty who has the subtleties of body language down to a fine art. She knows how to get me out of bed when I want to wallow in stormy thoughts, and she knows how to energize me when I want to collapse in an end-of-day exaggeration of exhaustion. And, as you can clearly see, she also knows how to remind me that I have a laptop patiently awaiting my creative ministrations.

Thank heaven for cats.

      One of the things I do as a writer is I keep a running list of ideas. Actually, it would be more accurate to say I keep several running lists of ideas: one is plots, one is places, one is snappy bits of dialogue (I am not making this up, when I participate in or happen to over-hear wonderful pieces of conversation, I do my best to remember them word for word until I can write them down). I keep a list of places I want to go visit for inspiration, and I recently joined Pintrest so I can keep a list of recipes that relate to my characters and their unfolding tales. But perhaps one of my favorite lists to revisit is my list of names.

      My background is in psychology. When I first went to college, I knew two things: a) I loved to read and write, and b) being an English major isn't necessarily the fast-track to a lucrative career. So I had this vague notion that I would become a teacher or something. Then I took a Psych 101 class, and I. Was. Hooked.  I immediately realized that these psychological theories were doorways to people, both as real individuals and as fictional characters. Freud, Erikson, Skinner, Rogers--they all had their perspectives on how human beings worked, and they were all valid (just as there's no one way to cook with chocolate, there is no one way to comprehend the human mind). It was a turning point in my life, and definitely a turning point in my development as a writer.
     This week I'm back in beautiful Seattle, soaking in the evergreen majesty and re-connecting with old friends and acquaintance, many of whom work in mental health. I was ecstatic to see them, and they seemed equally enthusiastic to see me...which may have been augmented by the fact that I brought brownies. I brought them because, well, obviously I love to cook. Also, there's a gentleman among their number with a heart the size of Texas and a stomach to match, and I don't dare appear before him without food. But the main reason I came armed with chocolaty goodness was because a woman very dear to me is retiring soon, and I shan't be able to attend her party. She's gluten-sensitive, so I decided to bust out the best gluten-free brownie recipe I know, which generally astonishes people because it actually looks, tastes, and has the texture of a really good brownie. It's technically a "Paleo" brownie, which means I can more easily pretend it's a health food.* The original recipe by Easy Peasy was given to me by a friend, and makes an 8 x 8 pan. When I started doubling this recipe for a 9 x 13 pan, I made a couple small changes, which I've outlined below.

Z.D.'s Double Batch Easy Peasy 98% Paleo Brownies

2 Cups pure maple syrup
1 & 1/2 Cups baking cocoa
2 Cups natural almond butter (no, you don't have to stir it, because it gets mixed into the batter!)
1 & 1/2 Tablespoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking powder (only 1/4 teaspoon if you want dense, fudgy brownies)
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (adds a little something-something)
2 large eggs
1/3 Cup bittersweet baking chocolate, chopped fine (yes, this will have a bit of dairy, which technically ruins the "paleo" aspect, but I think the milkier chocolate accents the brownie flavor better)
Grease for your pan (such as coconut oil, shortening, or butter)

NOTE: if you like chocolate and almonds, you can use chunky almond butter, reduce the vanilla to 1 Tablespoon, add 3/4 teaspoon of almond extract, and sprinkle the top with thinly sliced almonds for the last fifteen minutes of baking for pretty, fragrantly nutty brownies.

- Preheat the oven to 325º F if you're using a metal pan, or 335º F if you're using a glass pan. Grease the pan, and set aside.

- In a med-large saucepan over low heat, warm the maple syrup. Using a whisk, stir in the cocoa powder (this is going to take a little while, and if you're too vigorous you will create a faintly bitter cocoa dust cloud in your kitchen, so be zen about it). As soon as mixture is smooth, remove from the heat.

- Whisk in all remaining ingredients except chocolate chips. The nice thing about brownies is there's never a fear of over-mixing the batter, so go ahead and beat that stuff as smooth as you like (good arm exercise)!

- Pour batter into prepared pan, scraping in every last bit of nummy batter. Sprinkle chopped chocolate over the top (you can use chocolate chips if you really must). Pop that beauty into the oven and bake for an hour, then test with a toothpick: you should have a few moist crumbs, but no liquid batter clinging to the toothpick. I've noticed this recipe is very oven sensitive, sometimes it bakes perfectly in an hour, other times it may need as much as fifteen minutes more. If you keep a pizza stone in your oven at all times to help regulate the temperature, an hour is almost guaranteed.

- Let cool in pan on a rack for at least thirty minutes. Honestly, if you let them cool for a couple hours, they will be infinitely easier to cut, but some of us like brownies warm from the oven with a scoop of ice cream on top.



*It also offers excellent anthropological insight, as our cave-dwelling ancestors are generally portrayed as gruff, dirty, and clad in rough animal hides, when obviously they were wearing polka-dot aprons and having bake sales to fund the non-profit sabertooth tiger petting zoo.

      I was poking around online for some halibut recipes, and came across this awesomeness at Bon Appetit magazine's website: an article providing alcoholic beverage pairings with characters from Game of Thrones!
      Immediately intrigued, I started reading, and just kept saying yes, yes, YES! They really nailed the characters, I agreed wholeheartedly with just about every choice (except for The Hound--I'm sorry, but if there was ever a fictional character who epitomizes whiskey served neat, it's Sandor Cleagne). And it got me thinking about some of my favorite characters, and favorite books, and what beverages I would pair them with.
      My brother's favorite book is Joseph Heller's "Catch 22." If you've never read it, you should--it's a classic for a reason, but unlike many of the stiffer tomes they try to force down your throat in high school, this one will have you erupting into laughter! When I asked my brother for a pairing, he decided on Amaro, an Italian digestif that can range from floral-sweet to grassy-bitter--sort of like Heller's cast of characters. If "Catch 22" makes you conclude that the only way to survive is to be a little bit insane, a small glass of this intense fortified wine is a good way to start!

   Now my husband is an avid fan of Patrick O'Brian's "Master and Commander" series. We like to read it aloud to one another on road trips, and especially if we're lucky enough to be lounging on a beach. When I asked him about an appropriate beverage to accompany the books, he had no hesitation before he replied, "Port." And I thought, Duh, of course! Goodness knows Jack Aubrey drinks enough of the stuff, but aside from that, port has a slightly syrupy quality and a sweetness that draw in a consumer, before suddenly smacking you with the reminder that Yes, I am a potent beverage! This seems a good parallel for the lure of the sea to every true sailor: with beauty and the promise of adventure, it stirs longing--and then with that first storm, it reminds you never to take it lightly! It's a lesson Lucky Jack Aubrey and the perpetually curious Maturin learn again and again.

 




                   



                 



   Then there's me, and frankly I have a lot of favorite books, an a lot of favorite characters. But the one that came to mind today was Daisy Fay Harper, the irresistible heroine from Fanny Flagg's "Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man." Fanny Flagg is best known for "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café," but honestly I think "Daisy Fay" is her best work by far. Following a charismatic, resilient, spirited girl as she grows older, it uses peerless humor to explore some of life's hardest challenges--especially the bizarre, unexpected kind. I don't know if I've ever read a book with a character as real as Daisy Fay. And my drink pairing for her would be a glass of tart iced lemonade, spiked with a generous shot of OYO Honey Vanilla Bean Vodka. Like the lemonade, Daisy's vivacity and genuineness is both sharp and refreshing. Add the astonishingly smooth and lightly sweetened vodka, and you also capture her saucy, quick wit, and the warmth she inevitably sparks in your heart.






                     







   And yes, I would *love* to hear some of your favorite books/characters, and the drinks you think best represent them!