Here in New York, it isn't. Nor does it seem to be blogging weather. Victoria's been busy doing blogworthy things (like this) but too busy to post them at A Long Hot Simmer. (Many of you are familiar with that dilemma, no doubt.) But she'll be back soon.

Till then, here's a little something to sate yourself with: a yummy story called "Picnic Society," from the ReadyMade archives. It was written by Katherine Sharpe. Victoria did the food styling, and Rachel Haas was the prop stylist. The photos are by Marcus Nilsson.

"Outdoor meals can veer into culinary clichés (cold cuts and macaroni salad, anyone?). ReadyMade challenged designers Victoria Granof and Rachel Haas to concoct a plein air meal for our postboom times. In their picnic spread, vivid flavors and colors make for a feast that’s both cheerful and sophisticated."

Tuesday I'll be heading to California to thaw out and celebrate the holidays. A few things on my to-do list:

1. Escape across the border with James to eat crocodile in Tijuana—or to East LA for burritos at El Tepeyac—in anticipation of the next issue of Swallow.

2. Win the Christmas Eve Strufoli Wars, whereby I convince my son's godmother that boiling the honey syrup For Just One Minute will make the balls stick together rather than fall limp in a (lovingly created pile) at the bottom of the bowl.

Fun fact: This picture also appeared in my book "Sweet Sicily."

3. Go to Murietta Hot Springs to see if I can poach eggs in the hot spring the way they do in Japan...

Perhaps I  should explain:

Onsen tamago (literally "hot spring eggs") are cooked for 45 minutes in 140-degree water in the shell to achieve a miraculously silky-soft-boiled texture.

Photo from the blog My Epicurean Debauchery

This happens as a matter of course at Japanese hot springs ( reports my new assistant, Tomomi), where you can buy a sack of raw eggs and a packet of salt to soak along with you, although I have to say that it must get very stinky at those springs with all that egginess, but probably still not as smelly as borscht toots at the Russian baths. Next time I'm at the sulphur springs in Sicily, I'm gonna try it because it already stinks of rotten eggs there so who'd notice anyway.

White rice steamed in chicken broth with an onsen tamago on top, sprinkled with chopped scallions, is a mighty nice way to begin a Sunday, methinks.

I had these at Momofuku atop a bowl of bacon and grits, and may I have a moment of silence please while we reflect on this.

And 3: Chase down the Korean taco truck for a kimchee quesadilla, which—apart from anything David Chang cooks—is the only time I bend my rule against eating con-fusion food.

Happy Holidays.

In my post "The People You Meet at the Playground," I mentioned no-knead bread but (as a reader named Noemi pointed out) didn't give the recipe. Here it is. 

You need a covered cast-iron dutch oven (like Staub or LeCreuset or Lodge) for this:

12-24 hours before you plan to bake:

In a large bowl with a wooden spoon, combine 1-1/2 cups cold water, 1 envelope dry yeast, 1 Tbsp kosher salt, 4 cups unbleached bread flour, 1 cup rye flour, and 1 cup whole wheat flour. Don't beat the hell out of it, just mix it till combined. It will be very moist. Then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 12 hours.

Now. Dust a clean pillowcase or linen dishtowel with flour. Use a good bit. Divide the dough in half and, handling it as little as possible, plop it onto the towel and fold up the edges loosely. Cover the dough in the bowl, and return it to the fridge. (You can save this for up to two more days and bake it when you're ready.) 

Put your dutch oven in the oven, and preheat it to 450 degrees. Yes, 450. Just do what I say.

In about half an hour, take the pan out of the oven, uncover and (gently) plop the dough in. (Do I need to say "without the towel"?) Cover, and return to the oven. Bake 25 minutes, uncover, and bake another 25-30 minutes, until it is very dark and crusty.

Remove it from the pan, and cool on a rack.

(Sometimes I add a couple of chopped shallots and a handful of walnuts to the batter. Or some slow-fried purple onions and poppy seeds.)

By the way, did you ever notice that anything billed as a "great" gift, isn't? Anyway, it won't bring Gourmet back, but you'd be on the right side of paper publishing to support these folks.

I also went to the 3rd Ward craft fair in Williamsburg where you could learn to build an iPod pirate radio transmitter or buy one already made. (I bought a Japanese apron, two letterpress cards, a dozen chocolate-clove cookies, a necklace with a cast almond at the end, a hand-embroidered baby shirt, and a three-week class in pewter casting so I can cast my own almonds.) 3rd Ward operates out of two locations in Williamsburg and contains in it photo studios, wood and metal shops, work space, a media lab, a gallery, and classes ranging from bookbinding to circuit-hacking to building your own loft to silversmithing—all the things those spoiled Gen-Yers didn't learn from their parents. Why, now with all this crafting going on, doesn't someone organize a barter system whereby you trade useful (or frivolous) goods and services for other goods and services? All this lone urban crafting is taking on a Cuckoo's Nest kind of vibe, don't you think? But without the macaroni-and-glue sculptures.

Speaking of holiday craft fairs, my all-time favorite indie craft market is the Renegade Craft Fair (in Brooklyn during the summer), which—if you happen to be in San Francisco this weekend—is having a special holiday market all weekend. Closer to home is the Brooklyn Lyceum Craft Market and, of course, Brooklyn Flea. Last weekend I fought my way through the market at Columbus Circle, which is up every day till Christmas and was especially good followed by a hot beverage across the street at Bouchon Bakery. But really, how many hand-knitted dinosaur caps does a person really need?

Here's a paper sandwich my friend Shana made.   

Hold the mayo.