“Think with your head, not with your heart,” my sister warned me when I told her where I was going today. NYCACC, Staten Island. Listed as a Dutch Sheep Dog, the dog in the picture looked like a doodle to me. “Don’t bring him home unless it’s right.” I promised her I wouldn’t.

We discussed it with our children last night. We have been pursuing so many options. Rescue. Shelters. Craigslist. You name it, we’ve tried. I came across this boy yesterday during my daily sweep of adoption and rescue Web sites. As I explained the situation to them, my children agreed we had to at least try to get this dog with the expressive eyes and the goofy smile Click to continue »

reckoning

I consider myself a decent baker. I make a mean pie crust, and most baking endeavors don’t intimidate me.

Except for bread.

I’ve made focaccia many times, and homemade rolls once or twice. I never really did much else with yeast; its unpredictable nature scared me. I never thought I was capable of making bread this delicious. I had a hunk of it, fresh out of the oven and dripping with butter, and I swear I heard the angels sing from the heavens above. OK maybe it was my contractor’s air hammer from the second floor. But I clearly heard something.

Props to Chris at the LBC for recommending this recipe. I was wondering what to make in my new enamelware Dutch Oven*, and he piped in with this winner. I can see now why he refers to the no-knead bread as a bit of an obsession.

If you’re on the fence about getting a Dutch Oven? Do it. Do it so you can make this bread. Do it so you can make Ina Garten’s Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic. As devoted as I am to my slow cooker (and grateful to my friend Stamford Talk for tweeting** about honey hoisin chicken, which I will be making again tomorrow… this time with shallots, mushrooms, cashews and water chestnuts), I definitely am developing a crush on my Dutch Oven for its versatility.

We’re supposed to go out for dinner in an hour. But I think I’d rather stay home and make out with the bread.

*Yeah, I know. Hold the fart jokes, please.

**Twitter. It’s what’s for dinner.

Because we love this ridiculous muppet of a rescue dog so much, we want another one exactly like her.

He had been in the shelter since November 22. I was selecting the day I’d take off from work this week to drive the 7 hours (each way!) to spring him from the hoosegow. A gorgeous boy with amber-colored eyes and brown-black fur, the shelter workers described him as round a year old and very, very sweet. “Call us tomorrow between 1 and 4 so we can tell you more about him,” they wrote me. “We’re considering transferring him to another shelter, because other than you, no one has been interested in him.”

An hour later, he was adopted by someone else.

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Let’s turn the wayback machine to 1999, when selling some of our priceline.com friends & family stock gave us the capital we needed to score this house of ours. As I’ve mentioned before, the kitchen was nothing short of a minor disaster.

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With near-daily trips to the dog park, we’ve been spending a good bit of time outside. When Henry was a pup, we spent a lot of time in Waveny Park, walking the trails and enjoying the company of our little knucklehead. We’re always happy to stroll these gorgeous grounds after Talullah has a romp in the dog park, especially with two boys who need to burn off some of their cooped-up cabin fever energy during this frigid winter break.

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I’m experimenting with cool fx for the iPhone. It’s a fun, useful app for 99 cents.

Also? If we don’t score another dog for the ‘doodle soon, we’re going to spend the entire winter of ’10 freezing our toes off at the dog park.