Archive for May, 2009

May 30th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

Mussels, or “moules” as we say in Montreal, is the quintessential “cooking for cock” meal. Mussels are fancy and romantic, slippery and sexy, light and lean (if you avoid lots of cream and butter), ridiculously easy to prepare and extremely affordable. At my local Metro one bag is 4.99 which is plenty for two, including seconds (which you’ll probably have.)


That’s why I chose to make moules frites for my first official dinner date with the F.C. (He wanted to take me out to dinner, but I felt I’d be more relaxed and in control at home. ) I was also careful to clear the moules with him first, since seafood isn’t for every cock. Luckily, he said he loved mussels and it turns out his hometown in France has a moules festival every year. (Though I worried about competing with a mussel festival.)


Fortunately, the meal was a total hit.  The F.C. claimed they were the best mussels he’d ever had (aw shucks) and the whole evening was quite possibly the most romantic first dinner date I’ve ever had in my life.


Here’s to cooking at home! (FYI, mussels also make for an easy sexy appetizer.)


Man Trap Moules Frites






1 bag of mussels, rinsed
1 small leek chopped, or 1/2 a big one (you can also use half cup chopped onion or shallots)
1 medium-large sized tomato, chopped
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups dry white wine
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/2 bag of frozen French fries (my cock likes Julienne, but other cocks I know swear by crinkle cut.)




1. Pre-heat the oven for French fries,  follow the package instructions for temperature and times. You may need to cook them longer than the bag instructions (I’ve had to do this each time)  to get them crispy enough to soak in the moules juice. As the fries cook, enjoy wine and chit chat with the cock.
2. Five minutes before the fries are ready, start the mussels.
3. In a medium large pot heat the oil and butter. Add the leeks. Cook three minutes. Add the tomatoes, cook another minute.
4. Add the two cups white wine, bring to a boil, then add the mussels. Cover put and cook for five minutes or until mussels shells have all opened up.
5. Serve in bowls, sprinkled with parsley, with a large plate of fries in the middle for you to share. Place another large empty bowl on the table to discard the used mussel shells after eating.


Afterwards, I serve a Simple Mixed Green Salad with a homemade balsamic vinegraite. Fresh and healthy.


When that’s done, sip wine and stare into each other eyes. Trust me, it’s all the dessert you’ll need.

May 10th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

Welcome to an impromptu cocktail party chez moi. Martini glasses are chilled. Two stainless steel shakers on the go. Plenty of ice.  A little Bill Evans in the background.  But there’s a serious problem. This cocktail party has more cock than tail.  Where are all the girls?  I instantly go into panic mode.


galpal georgia holds down the cockfort

Five cocks (count em) for every tail!


I decide the only way to keep the cock around until more tail arrives is to keep the booze flowing. And cocktails take work! Shaking, stirring, pouring… And why didn’t I buy more glasses? One British cock, a dashing and smart screenwriter named Gerard, has brought a bottle of Frangelico and everyone decides to try a brew of his special Chocolate Chip  but both my shakers are already in use for the Cosmopolitans. It’s cocktail chaos. In the middle of it all: the French Cock arrives.  I’d almost forgotten about him!


FLASHBACK: I met the French Cock at a party two weeks earlier.  We sparked on the dancefloor, laughing and twirling until the wee hours.  No numbers were exchanged, but he Facebooked me two days later. After some cat and mouse messaging, I suggested we meet up again at party. He asks, “What party? Where?”  Coyly I tell him I’ll have my party dog sniffers on the trail and get back to him. Since there wasn’t a party on the horizon,  I decide to throw one myself.


At first sight,  The French Cock isn’t what I remember. He seems nervous, possibly dorky, and wow, his English is certainly patchy.  But I’m too busy to make chit chat anyway: I have a party to save! So I  pawn him off him on Rina, a beautiful piece of tail in a killer dress entertaining a gaggle of cock over in a corner by the appetizer table.   Normally I might be jealous, but instead I’m just grateful for her multi-cocking skills.  While she amuses and captivates, I keep the cocktail shakers shaking,  ignoring my French cock for a full two hours.



Cock kisses cock (due to tail shortage.)


By the end of the night, the party is drowning in cock, but it’s okay, since the cock is now totally drowning in alcohol. That’s when the male bonding kicks in. Cock no longer needs tail: they’re totally in love with each other. To my amazement, the French Cock has been sticking  around. He’s mingling, making people laugh with his sweet French accent.  The initial dorkiness is gone. Now all I notice is his perfectly straight Roman nose and curly blonde locks.  I watch proudly as one of my cock friends drapes an arm around his shoulder, telling him how resembles a young Marlon Brando.  I don’t disagree.


Suddenly, I feel the FC’s hand slip into mine — thanking me for inviting him to such a great party. (Great? I barely talked to him!) His hand stays in mine.  My heart skips a beat. Ooh la la!

As rowdy drunken cocks head towards the door,  ready for some post party poker chez Gerard, we stand there smiling at each other.  No nervous babble. No awkwardness  As the last guest leaves and we wave to them absently, eyes locked on each other. Maybe it was chemistry. Maybe it was the cocktails.  Whatever the case, this cock & tail party went late.



Cock chills with Tail at the end of the night.

The Perfect Cosmopolitan


One of my favourite girlie cocktails is The Cosmopolitan.  Though it became trendy for a while (with the whole Sex and the City set)  to me it’ll always be a classic.

Vodka:  2 ounces

Grand Marnier (Cointreau if you’re on a budget): 1 ounce

Cranberry Cocktail;  1.5 ounces

Lime juice:  1 ounce

Shake in stainless steel shaker with ice and strain into chilled martini glasses. Serves two to three. Garnish with sliced lime or orange if desired.


The Chocolate Chip


Introduced to me my friend Gerard, this is a perfect cocktail party offering, because the base is vodka (just like the Classic Martini, and the Cosmo.)  Frangelico is yummy and nice and the bottle will last a while. (I use it French crepes “Cesar”.

2 part vodka
1 part Frangelico

Shake over ice, strain into chilled glassed.


















May 1st, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !



Once upon a time, I met a hot French guy  (also known as the French Cutiepie) at a party. He looked like Michelangelo’s Statue of David, with a straight Roman nose, curly blonde locks and big blue eyes. But unlike the statue, he wasn’t made of stone. Despite our language difference (and it was big) it was like he instantly understood me; my quirks, my fears, my need for control… and he liked it. With determination and humour he charged through every obstacle I put in his way. He said “what we ‘ave is rare” and that “we are lucky.”


In the first few weeks of us dating, I found myself cooking for him more and more.  It just seemed so natural and cozy and perfect. He loved my food, I loved his adorable French accent.  I was also taking time off from my screenwriting career and cooking was a natural way for me to exercise my creativity without the stress (and with much more immediate and satisfying results.)


Each night as I pranced around the kitchen the F.C. would take pictures and interview me about the recipes. I told him that I once wanted to write a sexy cookbook and he suggested I make a blog instead. As an extra push, he even bought me the domain and helped set up the blog template. That’s when “cooking for cock” was born, or re-born.


As soon as I started writing, it became clear how much cooking and love were related. (I don’t cook for people I don’t like and rarely for people I work with.) I also realized how many personal things are revealed in the kitchen (like the bedroom, it’s a hotspot of emotion and conflict.) So my blog isn’t just a recipe blog with a sexy spin, it’s also a diary about how food and relationships interconnect. ( “Sex & the Kitchen” anyone?) Cooking and love are both about chemistry, after all. Could there be a recipe for true love? And with the French Cutiepie, had I finally found it?


Of course I’m terrified, since some of my stories are personal. But I guess that’s what cooking (and blogging) is all about. Taking chances. Experimenting. And serving up dishes (and posts) before they get cold.