Infinite Appetite

Day 3: Rain, Mountains and Sunshine

2011-12-26T17:08:00.002-05:00

We started off Day 3 of our Napa trip with a quick breakfast at the house of yogurt (goldfish for me) before heading to Pride Mountain for the sole tour of the trip. It was a cold, grey and drizzly day and winding in circles up the mountain did nothing to stave the woozy in my stomach. I have mild motion sickness that usually appears on metro train rides, on boats or with lots of stopping and starting in traffic when I'm sitting in the back seat of the car. So this particular morning, I was miserable.

But upon reaching the top of this mountain, the views helped level out my upset stomach. We headed indoors quickly, as I was also severely under dressed. We began the tour sipping Pride Mountain's current release Viognier. It was pretty good, but it wasn't as memorable for me due to my current state. Our tour guide learned us on soil types, explained how the grapes on the top of the mountain are smaller due to the fact the rain water runs down the mountain into the valley and how this means the juice flavor is much more concentrated as a result. After that, we headed over to the caves where they stored their wine barrels.

This is where we did some barrel tasting and learned more about the wine-making process. We learned that the Obama's order Pride Wines for all of their state dinners. We also learned that if the wine tastes bitter, our palates are not as refined yet. Friend Christine was already annoyed with our tour guide at this point and this comment sent her on a rampage through the rest of the cave tour. Luckily, she and our pompous tour guide made nice at the end of the tour and we left the place without taking any bad juju with us.

After more picture taking, we set off for some much needed grub. I didn't buy any wine at Pride since it was pricier and my palate didn't particularly take well to it. Our next food stop was a match made in heaven for my palate.

We pulled over at Gott's Roadside for some comfort food. I ordered the "Wisconsin Sourdough" burger that had griddled mushrooms, bacon, cheddar, mayo and bbq sauce on toasted sourdough bread. Wow. Christine and Susan ordered juicy chicken sandwiches and Sheri ordered a classic burger. Then Christine and I washed our meals down with a pumpkin milkshake. WOWWOW!

Happy again, we piled back into the car and headed to Chateau Montelena. Famous for it's blind taste test years win years ago against storied French wines, Chateau Montelena was a sight to see. Despite the continued cold temps and dreary rain, we still managed to keep good spirits.

The wine tasting was fine, but nothing struck my fancy. Somewhere between the parking lot and the tasting room we had lost our spark for exploring the compound and snapping a million pictures. Instead, we headed back to the car and pondered our next move. Our last winery of the day was to be Cakebread, but our tasting appointment wasn't for another couple hours.

So we drove to the famous Napa sign and took more pictures.

We then headed to Cakebread for our tasting, which to our surprise was comped! Victory. While I didn't take any pictures at this visit, it was the one winery whose wines I loved the most. After a day full of rain, frigid temps, motion sickness and overall blah, the Cakebread visit was the sunshine we had all so desired. The tour and tasting dude was great. The winery was also unique since they had bookmark-size cards for each of their wines describing the wine and on the back pairing it with a recipe. Fun, great idea. I particularly loved the vintage Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Cabernet Sauvignon and of course, the Pinot Noir.

After sweating out my decision, I came away with a bottle of the Zinfandel. After this purchase, I only had one more spot left in my 6-pack wine carrier to be checked as baggage on the flight home. Sunday was surely going to be a gamble. Of the three wineries to visit, when do I buy my last bottle? At the first stop? Or wait to see if the last two are better? Stressful.

But before the day ended, we browsed through Dean and Deluca and a Napa soap shop before heading back to our house to change for dinner at Mustard's Grill. Bad decisions about, we indulged in hummus, cheese, crackers and more before heading out the door again. I was angry with myself at this point, because I was full heading to dinner. I still managed to shovel food down the gullet, but know I would've appreciated it more had I come with an empty stomach.

My meal? Baby back ribs, apple and golden raisin slaw, cornbread sticks and butter.

Sheri and Susan ordered their roast chicken breast with garlic mashed potatoes, roasted artichokes and this special sauce.

Christine ordered yet another chicken sandwich, but her side was my pick for the winning item of the meal. Roasted and grilled sweet potatoes (yellow, not orange) with an avocado tomatillo sauce topped with creme fraiche. The combination there was unbelievable. I hope to attempt to duplicate it sometime soon.

Sadly, no one had room for dessert, so we paid the bill and trolled home for some rest before another big day.

Ad Hoc!

2011-12-26T15:26:00.001-05:00

Time to wrap 2011 up before 2012 makes its appearance! And that means finishing my recap of the Napa trip. I left off at the end of day two in Sonoma County with our dinner at Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc restaurant in ritzy, yet quaint, Yountville. Knowing the popularity of this place, we called to make a reservations exactly two months in advance. The intrigue of this restaurant centered not only around the famously amazing chef behind its menu, but also the fact that the pre fix menu changed daily. I had subscribed to Ad Hoc's daily email of its menu and had been drooling over the offerings the past two months.

Anyways, enough filler, let's get to the important things. First up on the menu was an autum salad with frissee, Belgian endive, roasted pistachios, bing cherries, olives, roasted squash and a vinaigrette of sorts. The combination of everything was spectacular.

The main course was a roasted pork rack tenderloin with plums, brussell sprouts, cipolini onions, romesco sauce and polenta. The pork was SO tender and fraught with flavor. Perhaps they had brined it? I don't know, but whatever they did was on point.

Next up was a fantastic cheese course! We dove head first into some Truffle Tremor goat cheese, quince jam and breadsticks. Perfect way to prepare for dessert.

Last up to bat was a chocolate cake of sorts, coffee ice cream and candied hazelnuts. While I found the hazelnuts to be over powering, the rest of the dish was the perfect balance of creamy and rich. With that, we waddled back to the car and somehow found our way home before the coma set in. Perfect way to end a long productive day of wine tasting in Sonoma County.

Pastitsio

2011-12-12T18:52:00.001-05:00

Patricio? No. Pastitsio. While I still plan to finish up reporting on the trip to Napa before the year ends, I figured I'd report on something similar in caliber. Pastitsio is commonly referred to the Greek version of lasagna. I made it for my work potluck today and it turned out deliciously. Here's the tried and true recipe of Ina Garten's that I used. I suggest you try it out sometime.

The recipe calls for ground lamb and ground beef that you cook with onion, garlic, red wine, cinnamon, thyme, oregano and cayenne pepper. The meat sauce is simmered for almost an hour before adding it to some baby shells. Then the best part? The bechamel topping made with oodles of freshly grated parmesan cheese. It's then baked with more fresh cheese on top. Definitely not waistline friendly, but it's definitely a mood lifter.

Day 2: Sonoma Razzle Dazzle

2011-11-29T17:10:00.002-05:00

Day two started off on a good note: sunshine, good company and a newly burned CD of guilty pleasure boy band music mixed in with some Britney and a few other gems. We had planned an ambitious day in Sonoma County with four wineries, one big breakfast and a hundred miles of driving ahead of us.

First stop was dive-breakfast place Hank's Creekside Restaurant in Santa Rosa. It was definitely a greasy spoon typa place, and the perfect way to fortify our stomachs for oodles of wine tasting. I ordered my version of the Grand Slam with every bit of salty and sweet that breakfast has to offer: eggs, home fries, onions, buttered pancakes with syrup and last but not least, sausage links. Upon ordering, I swear I heard my sweatpants perk up back at the house knowing the attention they would get later.

The homefries and onions aren't pictured (sorry). Upon finishing, the sing-along continued on the road to Preston Vineyards of the Dry Creek Valley.

An organic farm and winery, Preston was not originally on our list of picks. We had intended to go to Bella after recommendations from friends, but our Artesa wine dude said they were a young winery and not as fine-tuned as its neighbor, Preston. So, Preston it was. Preston also makes its own olive oils and has a number of feral cats roaming the premises.

No comped tasting, but a very friendly wine chick who let us pick four wines to taste each. I picked two whites and two reds. Let me take a step back and make note of my preferences as a wine drinker. I became a red wine enthusiast several years ago after being poisoned by waaaaaay too much Chardonnay way back when at a work reception. And of all the red wine varieties, I am a Pinot Noir lover. Hands down. Many of the places we had on our itinerary featured Pinot Noirs and Savignon Blancs (my favorite white).

Now back to Preston. Many of their wines had names with which I was not familiar. Many were blends and given names like Madame Preston which didn't lend itself to explaining the type of wine. But the wine lady was informative enough to clear up any confusion. She said they grow a lot of grapes common to the Rhone Valley in France. Also, their labels were fun...different variations on each bottle. While I liked the Mouvedre (red), I decided to buy a bottle of their Viognier as it was heavenly and delicious. After getting free samples of their fresh-baked breads and dipping it in their homemade oil (another WOW moment) we wandered the grounds.

Onto Matrix.

Known for their Pinot Noirs, Sheri and I were especially excited about this visit. We ended up tasting several pinots and some zins (and other blends). The server poured us vintage's of each wine so we could compare. After our teeth turned black, we surprisingly all purchased one of the Zinfandels.

Next we headed to Lynmar Estate in Sebastopol per the recommendation of our Artesa friend. Lynmar was absolutely gorgeous. The patio was huge and had several places to sit down with a glass of wine, some cheese and soak in the gorgeous vineyard backdrop. They also had a lush garden full of vegetables and greens.

While I marveled at the pristine Candian Tuxedo donned by our pourer, Sheri made friends with an odd fellow with a unique fashion sense. He told us we should continue on to Merry Edwards (originally on our list, but nixed after talking to our Artesa friend) as he said it was worth the trip...and literally located around the corner from Lynmar.

Onto Merry Edwards we went. More feral cats. More of Sheri's boyfriend and his fedora.

They don't make shirts like that much anymore. At this point, we decided to hit the road for our long journey home. Thankfully, Christine had abstained from some of the tastings so was perfectly capable no navigate the black-teeth crew home safely. Upon our return to downtown Napa, we headed into town to check out the Oxbow Market. After wandering and admiring their robust food selection, we each bought a mini cupcake and headed back to the house to rest up before our 9pm dinner reservation at Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc.

I think Ad Hoc deserves a post of its own, so look for that later.

Day 1: Napa Glory

2011-11-23T20:43:00.003-05:00

After learning firsthand what 430am looks like and seeing a glorious sunrise over Cincinnati, friends Sheri, Susan (who also happens to be Sheri's sister) and I touched down in San Francisco. After picking up our rental car, we swung back to SFO to pick up our fourth--Christine from Chicago (though she had flown in earlier from a work meeting in Anaheim). First stop of the trip?

Yes, my first-ever trip to In-N-Out Burger. No better way to kick off the eat-fest than here. While I did enjoy my burger and 'nilla shake, I wasn't blown away. But, still, pretty solid. After that, we hit the road to Napa hoping the sun would somehow break through the thick grey skies.

We made great time on the roads and soon checked into our ADORABLE 2BR/2BA rental cottage in downtown Napa. Then, it was off to the lone winery visit of the day: Artesa in the Carneros region of Napa.

The scenery from this winery was the first of many breathtaking views. From a lucky hook up from the Wine Institute, we were welcomed upon entry with a sign bearing my name and the staff wishing us all a happy birthday. An added bonus? Our tasting was comped, and our wine guy had us taste everything from both tasting menus in addition to giving us a full glass of champagne after! Even better was getting some great input on the rest of our winery visit picks, tips on a great dive breakfast spot and advice on the best restaurant to dine at in downtown Sonoma on our last night in town. After wrapping up the tasting, I bought a bottle of their current release Merlot.

The sisters!

Sistas from anotha mista!

The main Artesa sculpture...and the clouds moving on out!

After carefully navigating back to the house, we freshened up and drove the quick few blocks to the central part of downtown Napa to scope out our dinner options. After wandering past some big name restaurants (Morimoto Sushi, Tyler Florence's rotisserie, and more) we decided we wanted Italian. To our good fortune, a local parking her car steered us to what she said was the best Italian in town: Uva Trattoria

Everything there was a culinary triumph! From the bread, to the risotto ball appetizer, to the special gnocchi with braised short rib ragu, we were blown away. I ordered a ravioli in a brown butter/sage sauce with parmesan just to throw some variety in there since two people ordered the short rib special. While it was delicious, I wish I had gone with the special. The ragu was the best thing I've ever had in a long time. Layers of flavor, hints of wine, tender and silky meat, light velvety gnocchi. Wow. WOW!

Then it was time for dessert. With no room left in our stomachs, we powered through and ordered two desserts. Not realizing our waiter was within earshot, I joked to Sheri how it was her birthday and he quickly reappeared with a complimentary tiramisu for us (in addition to our other desserts!). I tend to not like tiramisu, since I find that they're over-saturated with the coffee syrup (or whatever is in them), but this one was perfection.

Also a winner? The sweet potato tart. I ordered a bread pudding, which was fine, but not earth-shatteringly novel by any means. Great restaurant, and a great way to cap off night one of our birthday trip for sure!

And then we returned to our car to find this note below.

Gah...oops. Angry notes! But at least we didn't get towed...and at least we have a firmer grasp of English grammar than the fool who wrote the note. Yay passive aggression!

VOLT

2011-11-19T15:58:00.001-05:00

I had the distinct pleasure last night of experiencing Top Chef Bryan Voltaggio's restaurant in Frederick called Volt. My friend Phill (fellow foodie) decided to have his birthday dinner there and he couldn't have picked a better place. Thirteen of us piled into a private alcove and dove into a four-course culinary adventure.

First course: tuna tartare with avocado paste, roe and soy foam

Second course: goat cheese ravioli with Bartlett pear sauce, slice of pear, cipollini onions and fried sage

Entree course: farm chicken, gnochetti, mushrooms, bacon lardon and some sort of sauce

Dessert course: platter of glorious cheese

Second dessert, compliments of the restaurant: Variety of too much more food.

Parting gift: housemade granola

There were also two bread "courses" before course one and course two. For that I chose a chive cheddar biscuit and a brioche with rosemary and kalamata (sp?) olives. I washed all this down with a cab sav from Napa Valley. I also noticed a massive markup on a bottle of Sav Blanc I had purchased in Napa for $30. It was being sold there for $60 for a half bottle. Goodness.

I left the restaurant, nearly four hours after sitting down, beyond satisfied and giddy from the decadent feast. I also had to undo the top button of my jeans about midway through. Well worth the cost to my waistline and wallet!

Treasure Trove

2011-11-09T14:08:00.000-05:00

Besides several extra pounds, and a few hunny dollars down the tube, here are my prize spoils from the trip! As a Pinot Noir lover, oddly enough I did not purchase any of that type of wine. Instead, I shelled out my hard earnings for the following:

Preston - Viognier (Dry Creek Valley, Sonoma)
Merry Edwards - Sauvignon Blanc (Russian River Valley, Sonoma)
Matrix - Zinfandel (Russian River Valley, Sonoma)
Cakebread - Zinfandel (Rutherford, Napa)
Artesa - Merlot (Carneros region, Napa)
Plumpjack - Syrah (Oakville, Napa)

Beauty times ten

2011-11-09T11:12:00.004-05:00

I am now officially back in the saddle at work after my amazing whirlwind girls trip to Napa Valley, Sonoma and San Francisco. The hundreds of pictures taken cannot adequately capture the beauty of the Valley in the fall. Every meal we had was perfection on the palate. Every winery we visited had something different to offer from the surrounding landscape all the way down to decor and feral cats. And most of all, sharing this experience with three amazing girlfriends made this trip a memorable one.

I hope to add entries for each day of the trip soon as it will help me relive one of the best experiences in recent memory. It was indeed the best way to ring in the start of a new decade!

Wedding Weekend

2011-10-24T15:55:00.001-04:00

My brother got married this weekend! I now have a new sister in Mollie, and her parents and brother are now part of my family as well. After a year and a half of planning on everyone's part, the weekend could not have gone better! The fall weather was crisp (and luckily dry!), Mollie looked stunning in her dress and Jeff tidied up well. Both looked very happy and all of us were very happy to have been a part of their big day.

It was also great to see my entire extended family who traveled from up and down the east coast to be here for the big day. Was fun to visit with close family friends who have been a part of my life since I was a wee kid and having our pastor from our childhood (who remains close to us this day) preside over the ceremony. I loved being able to spend more time this weekend with Jeff's close friends Jonny and Patrick (who served as groomsmen) and are also close friends of mine. My little brother delivered a great Best Man speech and it was good to get to know Mollie's younger brother Wes and her other bridesmaids much better.

All in all, I wish I had more siblings getting married so I could enjoy more weekends like this! I guess it's just up to me and my little brother Jimbo to make this happen. But we're not holding our breath :-)

Week of celebrations

2011-10-18T20:28:00.003-04:00

This week marks a week of celebrations: birthdays, engagements and weddings abound! The weekend started with good friend Julie's birthday on Saturday, then there was best college bud Sheri's 30th on Sunday, followed by my mom's birthday on Monday. Oh and my brother-from-another-mother Jonny got engaged on Saturday, and my older brother Jeff gets married this Saturday. Lots to keep track of, but lots to celebrate!

After a delicious dinner at Nest Wine Bar & Cafe in downtown Bethesda, we headed back to my parent's house for some presents and cake. The birthday cake turned out to be a success after much doubt. It's essentially the same strawberry upside-down cake I made for my 30th, but made using two square glass 9"x 9" baking dishes used instead of circular cake pans. I also used a pint of strawberries in each to have even more fruit as part of the upside-down magic.

I was kind to my mom and did not write her age on the cake and instead left it with two question marks. Perhaps that's why she's smiling.

And then we wanted to take a photo of my parents and my dad insisted on including Sebastian, whom he kept trying to convince to lick my mom on the face. Nevermind the fact Sebby is deaf, he kept talking to him anyways. My mom is the only one Sebastian is not allowed to kiss and for some reason, he knows it and never so much as licks her hand. But just this one time, while seriously invading her grill, he sneaked one good face lick. Maybe he's not deaf at all. Maybe he's just like every other male I know with selective hearing.

That said, I am looking forward to seeing all of my cousins, aunts and uncles, old family friends and close friends of Jeff this weekend as he gets married. There hasn't been a family wedding in maybe 10 years, so it should be a great time!

Whatever happened to the big, bad wolf?

2011-09-30T14:55:00.002-04:00

He ended up on a pizza at Lia's restaurant. Now wouldn't that be an ironic twist to that children's tale?! But according to the coupon I received in the mail weeks ago from Lia's advertising its latest wood-fired pizza creation, it has come to fruition!

Kinda looks just like prosciutto, right? The coupon offers $10 off to any customer who dines in on their latest italian cuisine offerings, one of which is the Spicy Lomo & Roasted Tomato pizza. For weeks now, that coupon has been starting at me on my desk and compounding my curiosity. What in the world is lomo? After going to Lia's website to search for the recipe (as advertised on the coupon), I still am not any closer to an answer. They said to substitute capicola for lomo if you can't find it. Well, if you don't know what you should be looking for, then how can you find it?!

Instead of googling "lomo" to put my confusion to rest, I decided to use my finely-honed linguistics skills and determine that yes, the lomo is the bacon of a "lobo," the Spanish term for "wolf." A wolf pizza.

And for a couple weeks now, I've had this stupid inner comical moment every time I look at the coupon. Wolf pizza, how stupid is that?! I'm not gonna go try it for a mere $10 off coupon! But today, after realizing it was time to salvage what was left of my frayed mind after two hectic work weeks, it was time to figure out the wolf pizza creation. I looked up "lomo" on Wikipedia to learn its boring definition: a dried, cured meat made from PORK TENDERLOIN. Oh, how boring!

Garden fresh

2011-09-23T13:53:00.000-04:00

A couple weeks ago, my boss gave me some crops her dad had harvested in his garden in Front Royal, Va. I was excited for some fresh produce and decided to put it to use later that night. She pointed out that oddly enough, the jalapeños were only mildly hot whereas the banana peppers were smokin'.

My small harvest included a green bell pepper, two cucumbers (I ate one during work that day), some tomatoes and several hot peppers. And what did I decide to turn these veggies into you ask?

With the addition of some refried beans, taco sauce, sour cream (fat free!), red onion and shredded cheddar (full of fat!), I put the diced tomatoes, green pepper and hot peppers to good use in my favorite layered dip. This dip is usually nine layers, but I decided to keep it more simple this time. It certainly hit the spot, and nothing tastes better than fresh, locally grown produce!

Low and sloooow

2011-09-20T14:10:00.004-04:00

Last night I broke in my new crockpot in preparation for the book club that I'm hosting this evening. I have never actually used a crockpot before, since I have never owned one, but am now a HUGE fan. Never before has cooking been so easy and never in my experience has cleanup been a breeze. I had been waffling for weeks whether to use the crockpot overnight or turn it on to do its magic while I'm at work. In the end, I decided to keep it under my watchful eye at night than be stuck at work worrying that the thing is exploding all over my kitchen.

The recipe I used was designed with a crockpot in mind. As our food theme this month is African cuisine, I found a recipe on Food Network for a slow-roasted Moroccan brisket with red onions, apricots and couscous. Preparation was a sinch. After adding a sliced red onion and chopped parsnips (the albino cousin of the carrot) to the bottom of the CP, I seasoned my 2.9LBs of brisket with an array of spices. I added dried apricots and poured in a mixture of red wine, beef broth and honey into the crockpot. Cook for 6-8 hours on low and viola.

Here's the pot of gold shortly after green-lighting the cooking magic. I turned it on just after 11:00 p.m. with the thought of getting up around 7:00 a.m. to cool everything down before I had to leave for work.

Sporadically throughout the night, I would randomly wake up to go check on everything out of both curiosity and concern (I was still haunted by a coworkers story of split-pea soup and ham hocks exploding from her crockpot around her kitchen). Much to my liking, the heavenly aromas from the low and slow cooking meat and aromatics were contained to my kitchen and living room. My bedroom was scent-free! While I do love the smell of slow-roasted meat, I am not a fan of it saturating every bit of of everything. The last place I lived was so porous and poorly sealed that the entire house wreaked of meat and aromatics for weeks after a multi-hour slow-cook fest in my oven. Finally, 7am arrived and I took the meat out of its wine bath. Done.

The brisket was definitely done. It started to flake when I lifted it from its onion-parsnip bed. I spooned out all of the vegetables onto a plate and poured the sauce into another favorite purchase of mine, the gravy-separator.

What's great about the gravy-separator is that the strainer on top catches any meat, vegetables, or other items from your sauce and isolates the good stuff. Then, by design, it enables you to pour out the finger-licking good gravy without taking the fat which has risen to the top.

After shredding the meat, I added it and the vegetables back into the removable part of the crockpot and poured that sweet, sweet gravy on top. After covering it with the lid, I put the ceramic pot into the fridge and headed to work. So easy! Now, I hope that the meat doesn't taste too dry. I think that I will only cook it for 6 hours next time. I'll see how it all tastes later when I reheat it all...back in the crockpot!

Grilling steak and re-frying beans

2011-09-10T21:35:00.001-04:00

I've wanted to make fajitas for a while now and tonight, decided to finally throw together a tex-mex themed dinner. I bought two skirt steaks, guacamole ingredients, Spanish rice, peppers, onions and refried beans. The marinade I made for the steaks included white wine, red wine vinegar, soy sauce, minced garlic, ketchup, olive oil, brown sugar and some spices. I didn't marinate the steaks for very long, but even so, the sauce did it's work on making the steaks brown quite nicely!

Then I decided to see if I could recreate the refried bean experience typically encountered at tex-mex restaurants. After googling a few recipes to see how refried beans were actually made, I had a plan in mind. I emptied the can of refried beans into a skillet and then added some water, diced red onion and picante sauce. It all heated up nicely and got creamy pretty fast. I also spruced up the sour cream by adding some garlic, bits of guacamole and some smoky hot sauce. Yum.

Then I sauteed some garlic, red onion rings, red pepper slices and green pepper slices and cooked up the rice. Soon it was time to take the skirt steaks off the grill. They cooked pretty quickly since they were so thin. After letting them rest, I sliced them up thinly and prepared for some fajita making!

Look at that tender meat! I will sheepishly admit that I refilled my plate three times during this meal. The second and third times, though, I made sort of a rice bowl and mixed everything together. Next time you're looking for good, cheap meat, go get you some skirt steak!

The early bird gets the mac and cheese

2011-09-09T10:52:00.001-04:00

This Friday marks the second office lunch potluck of the year. My coworkers and I decided to have it this time to help us cope with our first full-day Friday since Memorial Weekend. Friday's were sweet with only having to put in four hours of work before starting the weekend early.

And this morning, I got up super early to make my contribution to the potluck. And by super early, I mean 7:15am. For me, that's early! It's sad that I can get up early to make mac and cheese but not so much to work out or do something useful. Now this much-loved mac and cheese is one that my roommates and I used to make for every gathering we hosted. It's a Martha Stewart recipe and has always won the hearts of whoever stuck a fork in it.

I usually just use grated parmesan instead of Gruyere in this recipe. And this time around, I decided to not only mix it up and use small shells instead of elbow macaroni, but add some extra zing in the form of crispy hickory smoked bacon crumbles atop the crunchy bread topping.

Here it is in its naked glory before the bread topping arrives.

And here it is fresh out of the oven with its crunchy bread topping. The bacon, which I baked in the oven to spare my kitchen the wrath of all that grease and smoke, is hanging out on my desk in a ziplock bag at the moment. I decided to sprinkle it on top after I reheat the thing to retain its crispy-ness. I will be sure to let you know how it tastes with the bacon addition. Bacon makes everything, better, right?

The other parts

2011-09-06T10:44:00.000-04:00

To answer Mehul's burning question regarding the whereabouts of the leftover parts from when I carved my 3-0 cake, see the picture below. These pieces were saved, partially iced and fully devoured last night and this morning.

Back to basics

2011-09-05T13:50:00.001-04:00

For my birthday dinner, I decided to go to Potenza in D.C. with la familia. Weeks earlier, I had been waffling between Brasserie Beck and Potenza. I had dined at Potenza's cafe bakery several times and eaten lunch there, so knew it was a solid win. And after going out to BB's sister restaurant Mussel Bar the week before, I decided to go with Potenza for my dinner. And it sure didn't disappoint!

My brother and mother split the pan-seared Bronzino with ravioli. It looked tasty, but I zeroed in on more classic italian food.

My younger brother tried out the pizza with spicy sopresatta. I stole a couple pieces of the sopresatta and thoroughly enjoyed.

And for moi? Spaghetti and meatballs! I can say without a doubt in my mind that Potenza's meatballs are the best I've ever had at a restaurant. Ever. I've had the meatballs in a meatball sub once for lunch and loved them. But what made them so good was how delicate they were. There was a good amount of meat (pork, veal, beef) in them, but they were packed so lightly that they just fell apart with a fork. The sauce was a perfect complement and the spaghetti was also probably the best spaghetti I've ever eaten at a restaurant.

At the fancier Italian joints, they use handmade, fresh pasta. For some reason, I've never been a fan of the fresh pasta due to its consistency. More commercial Italian restaurants, such as Maggiano's and Carmine's have decent pasta, but it's clearly the straight-out-of-the-box kind. If I wanted that, I'd make it myself. So whatever Potenza did with their spaghetti is the perfect medium. They deserve a high five and a fist pump for their efforts. And if you haven't already been to Potenza, I strongly encourage you to check it out!

They day the calendar died

2011-09-04T16:11:00.005-04:00

Today is my 30th birthday. Today is also the day I will stop counting how old I am. I'm going to be one of those people who not only forgets how old they are, but forgets when their birthday is. At least this is how I'm feeling about all of this now.

This is the cake I made for my birthday before it was iced. I decided to get a little more creative this year. I knew I wanted to make circular cakes that I could cut out into a "30," but then also experimented with some upside-down magic. I sliced a quart of strawberries super duper thinly and tossed them with dark brown sugar. They quickly got nice and juicy upon mingling with the sugar. Then I lined the bottom of my cake pans with them before pouring french vanilla cake mix on top. For the icing, I made cream cheese frosting (cream cheese, butter, confectioners and vanilla) and mixed in four minced strawberries. I thought it turned out well! Next time, I might put more strawberries in the cake pans and less in the icing as the icing wasn't as firm with more liquid in it.

Maybe this will be my next cooking experiment--to see how many different combinations of upside-down cake I can make. Stay tuned!

Napa Valley in DC

2011-09-03T15:00:00.000-04:00

Testing my patience, I ventured over to Bobby Flay's new burger joint in DC earlier today. Having only opened a couple weeks earlier, I knew that wait time would likely still be an issue. And it was. Along with my brother James and friend Phill, we waited...waited...and waited. And watched as one lone cashier took orders from a dozens of people. One cashier?! Frustrated, Incorporated.

After being in line for an HOUR, we finally arrived at decision time. What was it going to be? The Dallas burger with its slaw, jack cheese, bbq sauce and pickles? Or would it be the Napa Valley burger with it's goat cheese, watercress and honey mustard vinaigrette?

I went with the Napa Valley! The picture says it all. Juicy, gooey, greatness.

James got the Dallas burger and it looked just as good as the Napa one!

We then shared some sweet potato fries paired with a tangy honey mustard horseradish sauce.

And then I washed it all down with a creamy vanilla bean milkshake! If you have the patience, and the time, I highly recommend giving Bobby's burgers a try. As I prepare to descend on Napa Valley in two months with some of my best girlfriends, I can only hope that the trip is as good as my burger was.

Reality bites

2011-08-17T16:18:00.002-04:00

This is the beauty I get to stare at on my desk all day. They're for my friend Teddy's birthday. When I bought them this afternoon, a guy next to me in line was shocked I was getting a dozen. I was like, "look dude, they're not my lunch." But maybe he sensed deep down that they COULD be my lunch. I wouldn't put it past me either.

Soon after I got back to the office with these beautiful bites, I had to head into one of my dreaded team meetings. I've said this before, but I do love my job. But even so, the reality of working in an office can be draining. My office can be comical at times, depressing on occasion and most often routinely crazy.

Of all the placs I have worked in my "career," the one in which i currently reside certainly contains the most vibrant and diverse cast of characters. I have never enjoyed coming to work on the regular as I do here. But there aren't enough pages to include all of the odd sayings, sound bytes, strange happenings and wild surprises that each week brings.

Now, normally my weekly team meetings are fraught with tension and include a visit from the Awkward Fairy. If you haven't met AF yet, he is well known for delivering uncomfortable silences, poorly placed comments, tasteless remarks and the like. These meetings are also my time to try out a new twist on my typical meeting look: the solemn face. I've got it all down now...like Blue Steel. But this week's gathering was, by far, the most odd.

There were random mentions of Grover; meeting Elmo and Bobby Flay on the same night; and the unfortunate lives of military children. There was heavy breathing. There was also a member of the IT team crawling on the floor under the table making all the females wearing skirts uncomfortable. I knew I should've worn pants today. Then the three long tables we sat at were rearranged by the IT staff. Anyone with ADD would never survive our meetings. I certainly can't recall the details of what was discussed. I was too busy thinking of the cupcakes back at my desk and worrying over the peep show I was giving under the table.

If only we had a reality show. Then we could capture all of the goodness that makes each day a memorable one. Or maybe I should write a book. Or only wear pants from this day forward. Life. Decisions.

Feeding the foodies

2011-08-09T10:53:00.002-04:00

I happen to be one of the luckiest people when it comes to my job. I love what I do and enjoy coming to work each day with respectful, fun and intelligent coworkers. The best thing about my coworkers is the mutual love and appreciation for eating. We often hunt down coveted food trucks nearby or talk about new eating places coming soon to our area. We also spend many lunch hours eating together in front of the TV which is always tuned to the Food Network.

We've spent many months chiding Paula Deen's shameless attempts to market mayonnaise as a vehicle for fried food, her distaste for anything green or of value to the human body and her slick motives to crown butter as a main dish item. We've also had many a debate over why Ina Garten only wears popped collar dark dress shirts, what the deal is with her husband Jeffrey and if her voice has ever gotten angry before in her life. And there have been many a choice comment on a certain Food Network "personality" whose elaborate table-scapes and quick fix meals don't cut it for this crowd.

Most recently, we decided it was time to put our cooking skills on display. And yesterday, the day finally came where six of us brought in some summer dishes to share. The spread was the perfect balance of sweet, savory and guilty pleasures.

We prepared and devoured the following items:

deviled eggs
pigs in a blanket
orzo pasta salad with feta and zucchini
BBQ spare ribs
bulgar salad with mint, jicama and peaches
chocolate cream tart
white and yellow peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream

YUM. So much for getting back on the healthy eating train.

Just call me "Gerry"

2011-06-29T14:25:00.005-04:00

Gerry the geriatric. Geraldine if you choose to be more formal.

Upon discharge from my cast-removal appointment at Georgetown Hospital, I was prescribed with several items that essentially suggest I'm an 85 year old woman trapped in the body of an almost 30 year old. Not only did my orthopedist ask me to start taking Glucosamine to help prevent arthritis in my ankle, he also wrote me a prescription for a compression stocking. Upon telling my coworker about Glucosamine, he said he had heard of it before after watching commercials on the golf channel, which is widely viewed by the elder crowd. Between Depends and Cialis, Glucosamine fits right in.

Yes, I'm officially hot and desirable. If you see me walking at .00001 miles an hour down the mean streets of DC with my crutches as canes, sporting my black air cast and a flattering flesh-colored knee-length compression stocking, give me a holler. Cat calls are welcome, too.

More to come on my new ankle, but until then I am happy to be walking and happy that by the time I do turn 85, I'll know what to expect.

Decode THIS

2011-06-14T14:03:00.004-04:00

I've run out of steam lately as I am winding down to under two weeks left in this ridiculous cast. I'm just over it. I'm tired of inconveniencing everyone to do even the smallest of activities. I'm tired of the logistical nightmare it is to get around. I'm tired of uncomfortable sleeping. And, I'm tired of my strange dreams. I'm not on any narcotic pain killers or other mind-altering potions, but yet, my dreams as of late have been stranger than strange.

Take last night, for example. I was in a house with some friends and all of a sudden, two grizzly bears appeared. They got up on their hind legs, roared and bared their claws and teeth. Fright and panic set in. We rushed to lock the doors (since these grizzlies had the ability to open and close doors) to keep ourselves safe. The details beyond this get a bit fuzzy. But, I do recall someone finding a rifle and shooting one of the grizzlies. Then the other came back and tried to re-open the door that had come unlocked. BAM. I beat him to it and re-locked it. I think I sprayed Raid on the bear through the window because then it fell down and was writhing below the window.

I kept coming back to see if the bear had died yet, but no luck. Then, oddly enough, the bear started to look more human. It was in pain, but scary still. The house transformed into a sky scraper building, and the bear that was once writhing below the window sill was now writhing on a thin lip of the building. The bear was fully human looking at this point. I then realized I recognized the bear. It was Washington Capitals young buck defenseman John Carlson. I went away hoping this bear-man-Carlson would soon die so we could leave the house without fear of being attacked.

At this point, I started feeling badly for how terribly he was suffering. I hoped he would die soon for his own sake. I checked back and saw him writhe falling off the lip only to grab onto it with one hand and eventually pull himself back up. Damn it, I thought. I snuck out a back door and went in search of the rifle owner to ask him to shoot the bear-man-Carlson to put him out of his misery.

Well, by the time I had gotten back, Carlson had fallen from the lip onto the pavement, but was still alive. So, I called 9-1-1 and was frantically saying how one of the Washington Capital's stars was seriously hurt and needed help fast. They came, revived him and I felt like a hero for saving John Carlson's life.

OK. Someone explain that to me before I check myself into the mental ward. I think it's related to the fact that I've been using a lot of Raid lately to kill winged ants that flood my room when the sun sets. I also saw another mouse running down the basement stairs last night. Oh, and I heard some man screaming on our street around midnight, so I sat up in bed alert for a while thinking he would break in to the house. OK...seems that's the basis for the dream plot, but the cast of characters?! Come on!

Look at this ferocious grizzly. Straight outta my dreams!

Does John Carlson resemble a grizzly bear? No. More like a teddy bear.

Ahh, yes, this is more like it!

Some days you're the dog, some days you're the hydrant

2011-05-27T09:57:00.000-04:00

And other days (well, for me it's everyday) you're the flamingo.

Fun with photoshop

2011-05-17T14:58:00.001-04:00

Ahh, the stupid things I do to amuse myself...

Since I have so much time on my hands these days after work, I will try to post a few more new pictures in the weeks to come.

Everyone's crow is the blackest

2011-05-16T20:14:00.007-04:00

I work with a woman who doles out cliches and mixes sayings into her regular dialogue as easily as she breathes air. I've started to jot these down, as most have never rolled over my ears before and most probably never will again. My favorite? One time during a meeting, she referenced how certain people suggest outlandish ideas that will never come to fruition by saying "sometimes it seems like they're trying to boil the ocean." Brilliant! While I have yet to reuse such saying in any of my conversations, I am about to borrow another one of her gems.

Today was cast day for me. I got the pesky plaster splint removed from my leg for my first post-operative appointment. It was SO liberating to have that thing torn off after trying to sleep through many an uncomfortable night with it digging into the tender sides of my ankle. The battle wounds on my ankle 10 days post-surgery weren't pretty. MAN, were they UGLY and GROSS. I don't much care for them. I will spare you from the pictures I took since I don't think anyone wants to see a crusty, bruised, stitched up CANKLE.

I'll let you create your own mental image of the gore and instead show you what it looked like just before they paper mache'd my cast on. The tape is covering where they removed my stitches. Kinda hard to tell from this angle, but I've got serious cankle action going on. Also have to mention that my calf muscle in that leg is already a bunch of mush.

My orthopedic surgeon sent me home with a few pages of glossy photos of the inside of my ankle which are pretty cool. I wish he had labeled them for me so I could explain what everything was to my lucky family members who get to listen to me drone on about the topic. Basically, he told me that the insides of my ankle were far more littered with shrapnel "floating bodies" than the MRI had shown. They removed pieces of cartilage floating around everywhere. They re-threaded the ligaments on the outside and then sewed in an allograft (cadaver) tendon to reinforce the ankle that is woven through a hole they drilled in my bones and secured. They cleaned up the bone lesions that resulted from bones grinding where the cartilage was no more and drilled a cavern where new cartilage would regrow.

I will spare you from my moans and groans about how frustrating it can be to deal with crutches, how bruised my hands and sides are from the crutches themselves, how even the simplest activities have now become herculean efforts. The first shower I took a few short days after surgery was an epic fail. I had to jump over the lip of the tub and over the sliding glass door tracks and into the wet shower on one leg. Dangerous and not advised. Luckily, I only sustained one shin bruise and didn't fall. I also didn't have my vinyl shower cast protector yet so was standing with one leg out and one leg in. I didn't get all of the shampoo or conditioner washed out of my hair and was later drying soap suds off my body.

I could go on and on, and focus on how bad things are for me. But, everyone's crow is the blackest. There's someone else out there with far greater, more permanent challenges.

Instead I will try to focus on how fortunate I am. I was lucky to wean off all of my pain medicine 48 hours after the procedure and have my parents close by to tend to my every need. I am blessed to have such a great mother who, despite being under the weather, went above and beyond to make sure I was comfortable. I am blessed to have great friends who sent encouraging texts and emails, paid visits, cooked meals, and chauffeured me to places. I am lucky to have insurance that is covering the full cost of surgery. AND, my luck continued as they had just one black cast kit left at the hospital today. Not everyone's cast is the blackest! I chose from green, blue, white, pink, red and purple. Part of me now wishes I got purple, but purple doesn't match my outfits as well as black does.

My leg's new home for the next six weeks. I can't put any weight on it until it comes off the last week of June. I can't wait till it gets warmer and I start to sweat...oh boy. I told my surgeon I was worried I'd start losing friends if the cast doesn't stay fresh. I guess I'll find out!

A week full of goodbyes

2011-05-06T18:13:00.002-04:00

This was a hard week on my heart. While some of the things weren't as sad as others, it has certainly been a week!

The Caps got soundly swept in the second round of the playoffs :-(
Gary Williams announced his retirement from coaching Terps basketball :-(!
I underwent ankle reconstruction surgery bidding adieu to my bum ankle :-|
Osama my house mouse was trapped and killed :-)
Osama bin Laden was trapped and killed :-)
I canceled my sparingly-used gym membership :-)

The first two items still have me bitter, reeling, sad and angry. I think I also might be in shock/denial. How dare the Caps put us fans in through the same scenario as last year?! Hrmph....DC sports teams. Then there's Gary. Garrrry. GARY! He's the face of Maryland basketball! He's the reason most people come to watch the team. I will miss his croud-rousing fist pump, his profuse sweating, his angry rants, his pacing, and his knee-splitting squat. Oh, yeah, and of course I'll never forget how he resurrected the Maryland program into prominence. The 2001/2001 basketball season when we won the national championship was probably the sports highlight of my lifetime.

Now for my ankle. Here's what she looked like pre-surgery. Pretty normal-ish on the oustide. Beat up on the inside! This is my first experience with surgery, casts and immobility. As an extremely impatient person, the next two months as a gimp will be trying.

And this is me with my glorious splint. I won't get my hard cast for another ten days or so.

My poor leg won't see the light of day until the last week of June! So far, the nerve block they put in my leg to numb my sciatic nerve hasn't worn off yet (and might not till tomorrow) so I haven't felt a full course of pain yet. Here's to my soon-to-be-new best friends Oxycontin and Percocet!

So, goodbye Caps; goodbye Gary Williams; goodbye Osamas and good riddance; goodbye ankle and good riddance; goodbye Fitness First...sorry we didn't get to see each other much. And here's to some new beginnings!

HilaryEats...less?

2011-04-06T14:50:00.001-04:00

Is it possible? Am I really on a "diet?" I don't know, but I am trying to be.

For as long as I can remember, I have always loved pigs--the animals. I've acquired every possible kind of pig item over the years as well. From pig trash can, to pig print socks, to stuffed animal pigs, to pig earrings, pig key chain, pig pot-holder, pig spatula, pig bank, pig pen, pig book mark, pig ornaments, pig mugs, pig EVERYTHING.

I am also fond of ham and pork products, but sometimes struggle with that since I think the animal, especially piglets, are beyond adorable. In fact, I want to own a pig someday. I saw once that mini-piglets were being bred in Britain as housepets and I half-considered moving there so I could partake in that love.

And for as long as I can remember, I have been called every iteration and variation of the word "pig." From being called "Miss Piggy" by my chubby neighbor, to my dad calling me a "little piglet," to my college friend Frank calling me "Carnitas" or "Porkita," it's been ingrained in my mind that I am a pig. My friend Sheri even tagged me in a photo on Facebook once that was just a picture of pigs she saw at some farm. I can never manage to eat a meal without having some of it appear on my clothing. Be it a crumbs down my shirt, or sauce and food stains on my pants and shirts, it's a disaster. I also snarf down large quantities of food in one sitting, much like my animal counterpart.

And as I now attempt to cut carbs out of one of my daily meals, I feel like I am disrespecting my very being. It's hard for me to stomach. (Ha.) I am finally trying to exert self-control when I make selections for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The good thing is, the eateries around my office do have good-tasting AND healthy salad options for me to choose.

I hope that I can stick with this, but for now, I should probably start a new blog called HilaryEatsLess.blogspot.com because I can't bear to bore people with talk about small portioned, healthy-food options.

Food truckin'

2011-03-01T13:13:00.001-05:00

I'm in a Puerto Rico state of mind. This morning, upon seeing that the high temperature for today was to be 50 degrees, I thought, time to ditch the coat and the pants! This is skirt weather! Fifty degrees is kinda like 80, right? No. After also forgetting to put on deodorant, I hopped outside and thought, maybe it's still coat weather..and popped back inside to grab a thin coat. Then halfway down my walkway, I ran back inside to get my scarf. But my legs, my poor legs froze to death.

And they continued to freeze to death on my walk to Farragut Square this afternoon to indulge in some food truck action. There are dozens of food trucks in the DC area now and to my good fortune, my coworkers are as down with food truck adventures as I am. We've all but sampled the fare from every truck but PiTruck, Eat Wonky, DC Empanadas, District Taco and this new Latin truck. For a running list of the food truck frenzy, check out www.foodtruckfiesta.com.

Today I decided to go with the Sauca truck's Beef Shawarma. I couldn't have picked better! The meat was thinly sliced, well seasoned, tender and covered in Chimichurri and Tahini sauces. The whole bundle was enveloped in a fluffy, doughy pita.

I've also tried their Mumbai Butter Chicken and the Medi Veggie which were equally as good. Be sure to check the Sauca truck out when you can. They have three trucks roaming the area and I saw recently that they have recently introduced some sort of kababs.

Torrential...tears

2011-02-28T13:13:00.002-05:00

I'm sad. It's Monday, so that's not surprising. But today, I'm especially sad. For one, I spat in the face of all things healthy by sustaining myself on trans fats and empty calories all weekend:

McDonald's cheeseburgers, fries
Cheetos
Choco Tacos
Beer
Pizza
Chocolate cake
Quesadillas

I am filled with regret and sadness today as my pant waistline isn't agreeing with me at the moment. I am also upset at the forecast for my upcoming trip to Puerto Rico this week. Have a look for yourself.

Why?! How is that possible! I haven't gone on a "real" vacation in almost two years, if not more. And the one time I do, it's supposed to be raining the ENTIRE time. On top of that, today is filled with thunderstorms and heavy rain and I can't seem to find my umbrella anywhere. But what good does that do me now? None. I guess I should get used to it since I will soon be enjoying a rain-soaked vacation. Awesome.

Crack of the Month

2011-02-24T12:11:00.001-05:00

There are soooooo many things that I love to eat and drink. But from time to time, I zero in on one particular item and become obsessed beyond obsessed. I like to refer to these items as my "Crack of the Month." Sometimes, the months get crazy and there's a different Crack of the Week, but for the most part, I am consistent.

The Crack of the Month for February comes in a liquid form. Starbucks, you kill me. I don't mind so much the empty calories of your sugary drinks, but the price? Come on! I could get a six inch sub for lunch for the same price as my Tall latte. That said, I am NOT a coffee drinker. At. All. I love the smell of coffee, I love coffee flavored things, but straight coffee? No, thanks.

Around the holidays, my opinion was slightly altered. Since there's a Starbucks next to my office, most of my coworkers hit it up multiple times a day. And the holiday season was even more intense what with Starbuck's featured seasonal flavors. Pumpkin spice latte...white chocolate peppermint mocha latte...gingerbread latte. Yes. I was easily hooked. What put an end to that party was the funds. I couldn't stomach the price for liquid crack.

But, now that the seasonal lattes are gone, I decided to try something new. The cinnamon dolce latte. Oh. My. Oh. Liquid crack, I tell you. I have no idea what's in it, but assume there's some cinnamony-caramelly syrup in there. To make myself feel better about this indulgence, I always ask for it with skim milk and no whipped cream. Then I ingest the liquid crack and dig out my smile.

I heart you, Kobe

2011-02-18T10:18:00.003-05:00

I love me some Kobe. I could stare at Kobe's glistening glory for hours...if it weren't that Kobe would get cold. Kobe beef (not Kobe Bryant...I hate that kid), for those who haven't had the opportunity to experience it, is some of the tenderest meat on the planet. I first enjoyed it at BLT Steak in DC in the form of a burger. While the price was ridiculous for a lone burger, it was the only way I could fathom affording that cut of meat. The menu there charged $20 per ounce of Kobe if you were ordering a steak.

Hailing from Japan, these animals get some extra TLC that goes a long way. I've seen YouTube video of Japanese farmers massaging the cows and feeding them beer to relax them. No wonder they're so tender.

Last night while dining at Wolfgang Puck's The Source in honor of my little brother's birthday, I got to experience the Kobe again. I ordered the Kobe Short Ribs for my main meal, and despite the fact I could've easily eaten two platefuls, I was taken away to a happy place. The ribs were de-boned and resting on top of pureed Indian-style lentis and a saffron raita. The sauce in which they slow-cooked was silky and layered with depth upon depth of flavor.

Although that happy place faded after the quick five minutes it took me to consume my humble portion, at least I snapped a picture of it to carry with me forever. Me thinks that after months of pondering, I have at last found the picture I will put in the locket I've started wearing again. Too weird? I think this shot would nicely complement the picture of Sebastian that's already in there.

Defeating dust and dirt

2011-01-23T11:58:00.001-05:00

For a while now, I've wondered what to do about recurring dust and dirt on bathroom mats and rugs throughout my house. No matter how often I clean, dust and dirt remain the fourth roommate in my house. It irritates me how quickly my white bathroom mats look like they've taken a trip in a storm drain so soon after a wash.

When I lived in DC, my roommate and I had separate bathrooms and we both chose dark, solid colored bath mats to match our color schemes. Thinking that those mats would hide dust better proved wrong since the white dust was showcased even better on a dark background. Upon moving to Silver Spring into an old school black-and-white tiled bathroom floor, I chose white bath mats to match thinking that black would show the dust and dirt (DD) far worse.

Well, again, I was wrong. I know this is why offices and apartment complexes (and normal, intelligent humans) choose neutral colored or patterned rugs to hide DD best. But between white/light rugs and dark rugs, I guess I would choose dark.

And yesterday after deciding to wash the white bath mats, I solved this annoying situation for good. Everyone knows to wash whites and colors separately. I know that. But, for some reason, I believed that my Tide COLOR SAFE detergent meant that whites and colors could mingle freely without fear of marriage. Wrong again. Upon washing the white mats with the multi-green-colored runner rug from my living room, my pretty white bathmats instantly turned green.

At first I was horrified. But that soon faded. Since I happen to be in a "green" phase right now where I can't stop myself from buying anything with green in it, clothes wise and otherwise, this in my mind is a victory. I currently have a dark green coat, a dark green purse and several variations of green clothing. Obsessive, yes. But, I can't get enough of the green! And now I have pretty mint green bathmats that actually match the strange, old school green and white tiles in the bathroom. I'm also thinking that the dust won't show up as well since the light green will hide light and dark DD quite well.

Victory! Go green!

So this is love?

2010-12-23T10:19:00.008-05:00

Ever caught yourself incessantly daydreaming about a special someone? Ever had a hard time concentrating on getting work done because someone else is running through your mind? Well then, my friend, you may be in love.

I thought I knew what it felt like to be in love, but I guess I was wrong. All these years I thought I knew it when I felt it, but I guess I was mistaken. Ever since my trip to Chicago a few weeks ago, I CANNOT stop thinking about Edwardo.

I toss and turn at night. The notion of productivity at the office has vanished.

Edwardo made me a delicious stuffed spinach pizza. And it played the lead role in the food escapades of my weekend away with friends. From the moment it arrived at my friend Christine's door, something in me changed. I took one look at it and am now blind to anything else.

Look at that! The spinach on Edwardo's pizza was crispy with hints of garlic. The cheese was gooey and ooey. The marinara sauce on top was layered with flavor and texture with Parmesan cheese melted about. And the crust. Oh, the crust. It was perfectly crispy, doughy, and buttery.

The pizza was huge. We each had one full slice plus a third of another piece for our dinner Friday night. I was impressed with the restraint shown by each of us, especially myself. But not a second too soon after returning home later that evening, not a word was spoken as we headed towards the fridge. Like robots, we opened the fridge in silence and split another piece.

The next morning, before heading out to brunch, the pizza box emerged yet again. Third of a slice for everyone.

After brunch, since it was raining, windy and cold, we headed back to the apartment and found the box of pizza waiting patiently for our arrival. Out came another piece. Then came a nap. Then out came the box again. Thirds for everyone.

Then as we gussied up for a dinner out at a trendy Mexican restaurant downtown, Christine took out the last piece of pizza and ate it. Part of me cried inside. I wanted to scream. I hadn't wanted this dream to end. But it did. It was over. Done.

And to this day, I can't stop thinking about how good that pizza was. Fresh from Edwardo's oven, it was perfection. Served cold for breakfast, it was divine. And slightly warmed up for snack time, it hit the spot. Buttressed by batch upon batch of homemade chocolate chip and Reese's peanut butter cup cookies, my final winter trip to Chicago was as good as I had imagined it would be.

Now, I think owe it to my yearning heart to host a Chicago pizza night soon at my house so that I can be reunited with my true love and share that goodness with my friends. Luckily, Edwardo's ships to locations outside of Chicago. As does Giordano's and Lou Malnati's. Maybe I will order one of each!

More to come on the rest of the Chicago wintry experience!

All I want for Christmas...

2010-12-15T14:45:00.002-05:00

I usually don't ask for much for Christmas and tend to prefer surprises from my family members. But as the years have come and gone, so too has the creativity and the element of surprise. For my older brother Jeff and I, lists have become common place. Although my list is pretty short and unexciting--I requested a small vacuum cleaner this year--it helps save the time spent thinking up good ideas for adults who usually don't "need" much.

When I asked Jeff what he wanted for Christmas this year, he rattled off a small list of options. But, while the vagueness of his list was somewhat surprising, I was moreso surprised at his choice specificity regarding the last list item.

Mac book accessories
hockey accessories
swim accessories
marriage accessories (ear plugs, "yes dear" recording)

Marriage accessories? Yes. I shall get to work on making that recording. Anyone know where I can get a good set of ear plugs?

Christkindlmarket

2010-12-03T14:16:00.003-05:00

According to my friend Lindsey, Germans like to combine words because they don't have enough time to add space between words.

Hence the word "Christkindlmarket." Ever heard of that before? I'll tell you about it shortly.

Next week, Lindsey and I will head out to Chicago to visit our friend Christine. The first time I visited Chitown was early December and I remember being stunned by how cold it was. Despite the weather, I'm heading back because the city is quite breath-taking around the holidays. Just how the city is an explosion of beautiful, colorful tulips in the Spring, it is bedecked with pretty white lights and festive decorations in the Winter.

Here's the weather forecast for the visit. Aside from the frigid temps, I am excited about the prospect of snow! And moreso jazzed up about the Christkindlmarket.

Designed to mimic the Christkindlesmarkt in Nuremberg, Germany, which began in 1545, the Christkindlmarket Chicago brings a German and European tradition with international flair. What that means for us? German beer! German food! German garb! Christmas on crack!

In addition to that, we have some side journeys planned to some new eating spots and some old standbys for deepdish pizza and the like. And if we don't freeze to death, I'll be sure to document my final Winter experience in Chicago.

Christmas Explosion!

2010-12-02T23:00:00.001-05:00

Despite the many shortcomings of my current residence, it appears to be perfectly laid out for an explosion of Christmas decorations. Yes, my roommates and I decided to deck the house with all the trimmings of Christmas this evening. And, while some might think it's overkill, I find it to be quite the view.

Last year, we purchased our tree at Home Depot. You can't beat $25 for a seven-foot tree! And this year, we headed back to get another good deal. But we learned our lesson from last year. Instead of picking out the biggest, widest, and tallest tree we could get, we took into consideration the room dimensions. We passed on the rounded, pear-shaped Frasier furs and nabbed a slenderer version. Still seven-feet, but lush and fitting for the room.

While the tree almost slid off the top of my car on the drive back, it made it home safely and into the house with minimal shedding. Since our living room is quite narrow, we decided to place the tree out on our year-round porch. It's much cooler out there, too, which should help prevent it from drying out so fast. After we got home, we lit a fire in the fireplace, warmed up some water for hot chocolate with Khalua, prepared some s'mores, turned on some Christmas tunes from Pandora, and went to work!

Then with the extra lights and extra tree branches, we decorated the mantle. Then the poinsettias were added for some extra color. To finish it off, we hung some stockings and put fake snow under the reindeer sleigh candle contraption.

And then we hung a wreath from the door...

And, last, but not least. We placed a couple poinsettias around the dining room. If only we had an outdoor outlet, we could go crazy with lights on our bushes and trees. Or get a slew of blow up festive lawn ornaments. I think that's where I draw the line :-)

Here's my favorite view where you can see bits of everything. Not sure why the camera is making everything appear fuzzy, either. Not a good sign!

And one last look at the tree through the closed porch door. I hope everyone enjoys the holiday season!

Thankful

2010-11-25T23:36:00.006-05:00

This year's Thanksgiving didn't involve the usual pilgrimage to Williamsburg, Va. Due to an unexpected emergency room visit for my Mom, my immediate family stayed local and threw together a Thanksgiving feast on the fly.

My Aunt Eleanor has been the main chef behind every family Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. She's perfected the meal and somehow is always able to prepare countless dishes to feed everyone all the while making it appear effortless.

Well, our rendition of the meal wasn't effortless or gourmet. And the kitchen scene unraveled into a circus the hour leading up to eating time. But, the fact that I wore sweatpants all day made everything better. And, the meal turned out to be more than "just OK."

Our appetizers, clockwise from top left: Salmon salad roll; hummus (store-bought!); Jarlsberg cheese and Horseradish cheddar; homemade caramelized onion dip.

And then for the real spread! The only things ready-made here were the chicken and the rolls. From left, rotisserie chicken; mashed potatoes (I mixed in cream cheese, sour cream and skim milk); chicken gravy with shallots; sourdough bread stuffing; green bean casserole (a recipe from my Aunt that's from scratch); sweet potatoes with marshmallows; cranberries; 7-up salad (a family tradition); rolls.

Let's take a closer look....

And some more...

Big, hefty plate full of goodness.

And lastly some pie! The recipe was taken right off the side of the pumpkin can. Yes. And the crust is a bit lopsided, but it all tastes the same going down!

Food aside, it wasn't the same this year not being in Virginia surrounded by relatives and good cheer. And it definitely wasn't the same this year not having my Mom at the dinner table with us. But we paid many a visit to her in the hospital and learned that things are going to be A-OK! Now that's something for which I am extremely thankful.

I am also mindful of and thankful for all the blessings in life that are often taken for granted: the means to provide the food, a job, supportive friends, a wonderful extended family, and of course a great immediate family! Big thanks to my brothers for the help in putting together this meal at the last minute, and for my parents for being superbly spectacular.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Almost heaven, West Virginia

2010-11-24T09:44:00.004-05:00

I ended up going with the West Virginia Sauce and Slaw Dawg last night at DC-3. I have a new-found respect for the state for producing such a heavenly dog. It made me wonder if the true meaning behind John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" was not about the rolling hills of West Virginia, but rather for his secret love for chili-slaw dogs.

My friend Patrick decided to go with the Bay Bridge Pretzel Dog. The pretzel bun looked delicious and the simplicity of a dog smothered in crab dip with old bay seasoning seemed to work out well. My Nathan's all-beef hot dog was covered in chili and slaw. I also added some diced raw onion, pickle relish, brown mustard and some ketchup. I think I went overboard with the condiments, though, because the dog was kind of burried in there. Either way, I'm still smiling!

Reject meat scraps? Hardly!

2010-11-23T15:02:00.006-05:00

In my lowly world, hot dogs reign supreme. They are the king of all comfort and guilty-pleasure foods. They even trump pepperoni, which pains me to type.

Hot dogs are like a spouse or a long-time significant other. You've seen their ugly side. You've peeked behind the curtain they put up for the rest of the world and know what they're made of...sometimes it's not pretty, but you love them anyways. And no matter what they do to you and your health, you'll always welcome them with a smile. Or maybe that's just me.

But today, I've got a smile on my face already. Tonight, hot dogs are on the menu as I venture to DC-3 in Eastern Market. I hope the place is as good as it looks so I can add it to my repertoire of go-to eateries. It opened at the beginning of November and was launched by the creators of Matchbox (which has some killer sliders and pizza!) so how bad can it be?!

Check out their CRAZY-delicious menu!

Check out their AMAZING hot dog gallery!

I'm having a hard time deciding between the West Virginia Sauce and Slaw Dawg and the Bay Bridge Pretzel Dog. And I refuse to get any more work done at the office until a decision is made.

Now, maybe hot dogs are the reason some people become vegetarian. But everything deserves a second chance, right? Don't hate! Embrace your love for the hot dog!

Meet Butch

2010-11-22T21:36:00.004-05:00

I'd like to introduce you to the great black-and-white hope: Butch. The fluffy, lovable cat-dog. Butch was delivered to my roommate and me yesterday evening. His task? Find, defeat and eliminate Fievel(s)!

So far, Butch has not scared the mice out of their holes. He did a great job, however, of scaring the sin out of me. You see, I'm not really a cat person. And having never grown up with one around the house, I'm not accustomed to their nature. What I'm used to is hearing the clickity-clack of a dog's nails as he trots along a wood floor. I am used to the jingle of a dog's collar with all its registration and rabies metals. But the quiet pads of a weightless cat? Not so much.

Butch introduced me to himself, tail first. And it terrified me. I have a weird fear of black cats. They just make me uneasy. And when I was in my room unpacking from the wedding last night in the quiet of my room, out crept a scraggly, bushy black tail from behind my big sitting chair. I screamed and jumped around. Well, hello, Butch. Next time, no need for the dramatic entrance.

Since Big B's arrival, he hasn't held up his end of the bargain quite yet. I still like him, though. He reminds me of my dog Sebastian, the way he constantly rolls onto his back to get a belly rub. He also does a fair amount of following us around (when he's not hiding in the closet). It also appears that he enjoys sitting around and rubbing around every corner of the house more so than hunting. I hope he will start to feel more comfortable soon, because we only have him through the weekend.

Chop chop, Butch!

Crazy or 21st century communicator?

2010-11-03T22:32:00.002-04:00

Telecommunications technology has evolved much in the past ten years and cell phone usage has become common place, regardless of economic status. Whether walking the streets of the city, riding the metro, or driving around town, it's hard not to see someone using a hands-free device for their mobile phone these days. Especially now that DC law prohibits use of cell phones while driving, and Maryland recently implemented a "no texting" law to increase safety on the road, many a driver has resorted to using speaker phone, an ear piece, or a blue tooth.

But many times, the ear bud is hard to spot. Many times, it's hard to tell whether the mobile phone is in the driver's lap on speaker. And every time I encounter one of those individuals, chattering away, gesticulating with a sense of urgency, I hope and pray that they're wearing a blue tooth on their hidden ear, or that their cell phone is buried in their lap.

But far too many times, there is no blue tooth. There is no cell phone on speaker. And there is no ear piece hidden behind hair. These individuals aren't sophisticated, 21st century communicators. They're just plain crazy. And I encounter them enough to make me think they're drawn to me somehow.

On the flip side, I am always sure to illegally hold up my phone while it's on speaker during a drive to ensure people know I am not talking to myself. I stopped wearing my blue tooth years ago out of fear of being mislabeled a nut job. I only sing in the car at night or when other cars aren't nearby. And if a car pulls up next to me, or the broad daylight fails to shroud my secret habit, I resort to humming.

Now today on my ride out of the city on the reliable Metro, a woman sat behind me...motionless... singing. This was new in my book of quacks. Was she crazy or was she just singing in her sleep? The singing muffled down to a low hum as we neared my final destination. At that point, I noticed we were the only two passengers left in that car.

Was her hum/singing a siren call to lure me in so she could attack me? Why would she want to attack me? My mind started to wander into a dark, dark spot. I weighed my options. I felt like I was writing my own Choose Your Own Adventure Book.

If attacked, would I:

a) run to push the emergency button to stop the train and call for help
b) fight her until we pulled into my station so I could run off the train for help
c) grab my pepper spray from the front of my bag
d) whip out my two-inch long Swiss Army Knife

At this point in the wild adventure...in my head, I snapped back to reality. The train reached my stop, I calmly exited and went on with my uneventful evening. Thank goodness the situation didn't turn into a "situation." Thank goodness no one else saw the whirlwind inside my head. And thank goodness I haven't blogged in so long that none of my "followers" will read this and realize that despite the fact I don't talk to myself (and go out of my way to make sure people don't think I am doing so) I am, in fact, a little bit nutty. :-)

Revisiting Chicago

2010-10-12T21:41:00.004-04:00

This past weekend, a handful of my friends successfully completed the Chicago Marathon. I was impressed with their motivation to stick with months of arduous training and am happy that they all had a pleasant experience (as pleasant as it can be running 26.2 miles!).

That said, I guess it's finally time to finish posting pictures from my September visit!

After brunch at Toast, we meandered through Lincoln Park's beautiful neighborhood streets. We found our way to Wells Street where a festival was a happening.

What's that you see? An Abba cover band!

And then we made friends with an Indian before heading into an olive oil and vinegar store. In that store, I fell in love with a white peach balsamic vinegar while Christine became enamored with one of the salesmen. Lucky for me, I could take mine home. Except I couldn't since I decided not to check my luggage. My vinegar is still sitting in Christine's apartment waiting for her next trip back East when she checks a few big bags. SIGH.

Next we headed to Navy Pier for a surprise speed boat tour on Lake Michigan. Woot! As we boarded the speedboat, we decided to sit upfront since that was supposedly where the driest seats were. Once everyone had boarded, the tour leader ran down a laundry list of conditions that were not favorable to enduring this boat tour. Back problems? Check. Motion sickness? Check. Inability to ride roller coasters? CHECK. We both gulped in unison as we fastened our seat belts. We probably should've exited immediately.

Here we are, all smiles before loading onto the boat. And luckily, we survived it all without a hiccup. I was shocked. But mostly amazed at how beautiful the city looked from the lake.

After the ride was over, we roamed around the pier for a bit before heading to our dinner back near her apartment. We munched on delicious, heart-attack inducing Garrett's popcorn. Is it just me, or does the cheese butter sauce on that stain your skin? I had yellow/orange hands for far too many hours after eating it.

Such a beautiful day! We swung back through downtown and made a quick stop at Ghirardelli to get free chocolate samples. This time they were giving away chocolate squares filled with a pumpkin caramel type thing. Y-U-M.

We then said hello to the sad horses drawing carriages about Michigan avenue and beyond.

Then we dined at Adesso in Lakeview. We decided on the pork bolognese with homemade pasta and the pesto pasta with green beans and chicken. For dessert? A stop across the street at Phoebe's Cupcakes.

Pictured here is the Peanut Butter Chocolate Fudgie Brownie cupcake and the Raspberry cupcake. Heaven. But we didn't have any room that evening and instead, I wolfed mine down the next morning before heading to the airport. Oh, and another slice of cold deep dish to wash that down.

The trip to the airport via bus and train was eventful. My bus was empty when I boarded, yet of the few people who boarded on my way to the Blue Line the one man who wreaked of cigars sat across from me and the crazy man speaking to me in foreign tongues chose to sit next to me. I don't get it.

My next trip out to Chicago will be the second week or so of December. This time, my friend Lindsey from college will be joining us as we try some new things and revisit some old favorites. It's somewhat bittersweet that Christine is almost finished with her PhD program at Northwestern. After five years, she expects to be done by early Summer 2011, if not earlier. I'm excited for her to finally be done with Immunology research indefinitely and thrilled she will be moving back East since she's one of my closest friends. But she will leave behind a city that treated her so well and created great opportunities and adventures for her. A city that opened my mind to weight gain I never believed I'd tolerate. And a city that I've come to love dearly (except for the winter months).

So now, the countdown begins. Only two more visits to Chicago left! One in December. One in Spring of 2011. Tear.

Terrible Name, Great Wine

2010-10-06T11:59:00.001-04:00

Yes, I am still alive. No, I have no excuses for my lack of blogging. I know I still owe more pictures from the second half of my eating extravaganza in Chicago. And, I got this nifty new kitchen gadget from my Aunt and Uncle for my birthday that I need to showcase on here. In time, in time.

What I will say is that a quiet weekend in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains this past weekend was a great retreat from the craziness that is my life. I wish I had taken pictures of the rolling hills, pastures, and turning foliage because it was breath taking in its own way. Even though I don't live in the concrete jungle of the city, my abode in the urban burbs still lacks something only the countryside can provide.

Anyways, after spending a quick weekend in Luray, Va., in honor of friend Emily who is getting married next month, my roommate Laura and I decided to hit up a particular winery in Amissville, Va., on our drive back home. We had seen this winery at the Mount Vernon wine festival, but they weren't selling all they had to offer. And, as luck had it, we noticed signs for this winery on our drive out to the country.

Called Unicorn Winery, for reasons I still don't quite understand, the grounds at this establishment more than made up for the tacky name. A pond. Rolling hills of plush grape vines. The sign at the entrance read "Do you believe in unicorns?" No. Never will. But many a glass of the winery's Crimson Sunset red might make me think otherwise. Described as their "red wine with training wheels" this particular off-dry red has hints of pomegranate and currant. The secret to its success? It's served chilled. Absolutely exquisite.

I decided to purchase four bottles of Crimson Sunset, while Laura purchased their Chardonnay and their blush called "Slightly Embarrassed." So silly, but so good. The label on that particular bottle has a blushing unicorn logo. Sigh.

I recommend giving unicorns--er this winery a try.

Weekend quote

2010-09-27T13:53:00.002-04:00

My brother and his fiance Mollie are planning to get married next October. As both battle serious cases of indecision on a regular basis, I can imagine that orchestrating an event of this nature would cause their heads to spin. I have faith in both of them that things will turn out marvelously, and am very much looking forward to the festivities. But what worries me is the music selection. Last night, upon talking about the man's traditional role in the planning of a wedding, my Mom noted that sometimes music selection is delegated to the groom.

I don't think that level of detail has been sorted out yet by either as they are more than a year out, but when asked about his feelings on the matter, Jeff said (with typical Jeff elegance, tastefulness, and unecessarily-elevated voice volume):

"If Mollie plans to include the (insert expletive) YMCA, then I insist on including that Miley (insert expletive) Cyrus song Party in the USA!"

Go Jeff! My apologies in advance, but I might have to tastefully exit the room on both accounts :-)

I went, I ate, I conquered

2010-09-22T23:03:00.003-04:00

Two weeks ago, I went to Chicago for a pretend summer vacation. It was my last little escape to visit my friend Christine before starting my spectacular new job. But it was short. I flew out Friday afternoon and flew home Sunday morning.

Since starting at America's Promise Alliance, I have had no brain power to do anything post work other than therapy shop, eat and sleep. It's ok. I've found simple-hood quite enjoyable. But, I feel like I'm so far behind in life since the new job began. I haven't even been good at keeping up with my emailing. Blog reading? Not so much. I am far behind on my reading. I have no idea what's going on in my friends' lives and especially miss my daily updates on Gary and Elaine from Catalog Living. The fact that no pictures load on my Google Reader at work is crippling my efforts to get back on track. Its tragic, really.

At the very least, I wanted to take this opportunity to post some pictures from my Chitown trip. I've uploaded all of my pictures to Picasa if you're not interested in the abridged version below.

The weather? Perfectly fantastic. Crisp, bold, blue skies. The food? Expectedly comforting and satisfying. The adventures? Quick and jam-packed. The experience? Memorable! My camera?! Well you needn't ask. See for yourself below!

A beautiful stuffed pizza from Edwardo's. This is the fifth deep dish pizza place I've tried in the city and it was delicious. We picked this up after an open-bar event that we attended in our work out clothes. It's OK. I'm not out trying to win friends or anything. What follows is a snippet of the activity in the cab ride home with Edwardo's in hand.

And then we devoured...only half of it. We had already eaten some free appetizers and cupcakes at the bar. It turned out to be a wise choice, since that left me a quality breakfast option the next two days. Nothing beats cold, deep dish pizza!

Our baby was stuffed with peppers, onions and mushrooms. MMmmmm. The next morning, after a cold piece of pizza, we headed to a remarkable brunch spot in Lincoln Park called Toast. We had a Groupon for that place, so we felt no shame in ordering a variety of delicious items.

(This photo is a little fuzzy since I resized it a few times and did some other careless things. Judge me, not my camera!) After scouring the menu, we chose to feast on the following:

Ladies and gentlemen, the Pesto Scramble with spinach, bacon and Gruyere accompanied by spiced breakfast potatoes.

May I introduce you to the Nutella Crepe with crushed walnuts? Yes...you're welcome.

And here we have two modest, but not unspoken Veggie Sausage patties. Spicy and flavorful!

Last, but by no means least, the Stuffed French Toast Trio. Where nutella stuffed brioche meets strawberry puree stuffed brioche and decides to do business with mascarpone stuffed brioche. Can you think of anything better? I can't!

Upon taking our order, the waiter politely came back and cleared the other extraneous items from our table citing that there might be a logistical problem fitting all of the plates of food we ordered. Then upon delivering the plates, he said "Here you go, and GOOD LUCK!"

Now, this was one of my shortest trips to the Windy City in nearly five years. But for some reason, I feel like Christine and I accomplished just as much, if not more. Maybe it was the stronger sense of urgency that carried us to victory. I plan to post another entry that covers the remainder of the trip. And I hope to get my act together and not wait another few weeks to do so!

Moving On

2010-09-09T15:15:00.005-04:00

Today is my last full day at the American Organization of Nurse Executives. Instead of ranting about the terrible waiter that served my friends and I at Carmine's this afternoon, or complaining about the over-dressed salad, and pushy nature of the wait staff, I will instead pay hommage to the four months I spent in Chinatown working for AONE. I'll talk about Carmine's another time. Here's a list of what I will miss about my job, and what deserves to be shown the door.

I'll Miss You:

1. Great coworkers
2. Relaxed punctuality policies
3. My office with a view and a balcony
4. Chinatown
5. Teaism
6. Carmine's
7. FroZENYo
8. Quick and easy commute
9. Great Happy Hour options
10. Proximity to friends' offices
11. Friendly Chevy Chase Bank tellers
12. Free passes to Vida gym
13. Free weekly cardio instruction classes in AONE's gym
14. Free fresh fruit on Tuesdays and Thursdays
15. Unmonitored Internet usage
16. Short, 37.5 hour work week

Good Riddance:

1. Picketters and cowbells
2. Tourists blocking the sidewalks on 7th Street
3. Angry homeless man who ridicules pedestrians
4. Awkward interactions with the mail room
5. Slow and outdated computer
6. Morgue-like office temperatures
7. Herding cats
8. Taking meeting minutes

As you can see, the good times far outweighed the bad. I hope that my next venture at America's Promise Alliance will be just as good, if not better. AONE and Chinatown treated me very well and will only be a short metro ride away from my new home in McPherson Square.

What's in store for me?

1. A great boss who is a friend and former coworker
2. Office proximity to one of my best college friends Sheri
3. Juice Joint
4. Burrito Man vendor cart
5. Naan and Beyond
6. Proximity to old coworkers' offices
7. Great job responsibilities
8. Awesome benefits
9. A regular paycheck
10. A career path at a commendable organization

I couldn't be happier!

Something Old, Something New

2010-09-08T15:10:00.006-04:00

Something old? That would be me. I'm now 29 years old and a few days. Something new? A digital camera.

In addition to some much needed essentials (gas money!) given to me for my birthday this past weekend, I received a new Canon digital camera. Canon replaces the seven-year-old Kyocera I used to keep by my side. I'm excited about the new one because this means I can take many more, higher quality pictures to use in my blog and elsewhere. My old, defiant Kyocera had a terrible, awful, no good, very bad battery that lost its charge years ago. And even though the battery was replaced a few years back, that too soon died. Hence, taking pictures was a REAL bear. Kyocera's signature move of defiance included turning off, shrugging, and citing "low battery" after taking just one shot. SAD. Unreliable. I think the old thing just plain old stopped caring.

But even though I have a new toy to play with, I didn't take advantage of it yet. Over the weekend, I had so many opportunites to snap pictures and seize blogging material, but something deflated my motivation. I'm not sure what it was, but I didn't take a single picture or post a single blog. I am afraid to chalk it up to writer's block, because in less than a week I start my new job which primarily involves writing. Yes, WRITING! My reputation can't afford regular bouts of writer's block.

Either way, I am using this week as a mental vacation before the storm of a new job unleashes. My soon to be boss has been sending me material to review so that I can hit the ground running come September 13. Oh, I'll hit the ground all right. I just hope I can lasso my brain around in time to meet the challenges.

My last day at my current job is Friday, September 10. I plan to skip town that day around noon to fly to Chicago to visit one of my best friends, Christine, for a quick "vacation" before the real job starts. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, we have some new restaurants to check out, some deep-dish pizza to shove down our gullets, and some fantastic funky outfit shopping to do.

I can't wait to get away. This time, I can be extra camera happy without Kyocera being a wet blanket with its perpetually lame, "low battery" excuse. That's right, Kyocera! I'm leaving you home! And, maybe since I'm old now, I'll cart Canon around in a fashionable fanny pack. Either way, some good times are ahead for the both of us.

And then we came to the end...

2010-09-02T09:44:00.005-04:00

This week marks the end of many things in the uproarious life of Hilary. My volleyball season ended in the highest form of victory that group of ballers has ever seen with a league championship, my job nears its close, my last remaining days of being 28 end Friday, and I've made the last cobbler of the season. THE very last cobbler until Spring rolls around.

And this time, there were no pictures taken and no recipes consulted. I made a Bosc pear and Granny Smith apple cobbler. I knew the measurements for the filling and crumbly topping by heart. I peeled, I cored, I sliced, I zested, I juiced. I sifted, I measured, I mixed, I crumbled. One last time.

And then I baked it and opened the oven three different times to check on my progress. This was, afterall, going to be the last time I had the opportunity to watch something bake for many months. Then I had to do the hardest thing I've had to do in quite some time. I had to let the cobbler sit, cool, and chill in the fridge...all without one taste.

I had decided a few weeks ago to bring in a cobbler for my coworkers to enjoy. And this morning, I carted this few pound puppy in to work unscathed. We just shared some of it for our breakfast and as expected, it hit the spot. After all my cobbling, the apple pear cobbler turned out the winner. And, luckily, pears seem to be in season through parts of the Fall, so if I happen to have a yearning, I will still be able to satisfy my hunger.

Here's the list of the cobblers I made this season in order of preference. It doesn't seem like too long a list, but I made several of them more than once. I hope I'm not forgetting any.

apple pear
yellow nectarine, white peach
peach blueberry
strawberry peach
strawberry rhubarb
plum blueberry
blackberry cake
white apricot, yellow peach
peach blackberry
cherry
apple blueberry peach
blueberry cake
raspberry, blueberry, strawberry

Goodbye, late twenties. Adieu summer volleyball. Peace out, job. And fare-thee-well, cobblers. Tear.

What's up with the Swedes?

2010-08-31T11:42:00.008-04:00

My roommate and I started a book club almost four years ago, and since then, it has evolved into a co-ed gathering. That's right, a co-ed book club. The guys actually enjoy attending and are more active participants than some of the girls. My favorite part about book club is not the reading, per se, since I have the poorest record of book completions of the entire group. What draws me is the excuse to hang out with friends and prepare food for a delicious potluck dinner.

Each month, we try to tie the food theme to the book selection. And this month, as we discuss Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, we will dine on Swedish fare. Swedish fare? After googling Swedish food recipes the other night, I was amazed at how little came up. I hope there's more to Sweden than meatballs, lingonberries, pancakes, potatoes, and pickled herring. Sheesh. Thank God I didn't grow up in Sweden. I would've starved!

My friend Julie said she read somewhere that their diets were limited due to the lack of access to fresh food. Wikipedia noted that spices were sparse and that like other Scandanavian countries, Swedish cuisine was traditionally simple. My maternal grandma Hilda (after whom my name choice evolved) has ancestral ties to Sweden, but I don't recall ever having a dish from her that was Swedish. Maybe my mom and aunts know more about this and are hiding flavorful Swedish recipes from me.

My food contribution for the evening? I'm bringing a cucumber salad dressed with apple cider vinegar, white vinegar, sugar, and dill. Simple and hopefully not as bland as it sounds. Either way, here's to hoping the medley of contributions tonight will make me change my negative opinion of Sweden as an appetite killer.

Fraudulent Charges?

2010-08-29T16:16:00.007-04:00

In the aftermath of the credit card scandal, I have been picking up the pieces of my life. Much of the moving on has involved feeding my feelings. From Belgian bites to Neapolitan pizza to classic American fare, I have put my new AMEX card to use in the two days since it arrived at my home.

While I thought my phone calls to the credit card companies had negated the fraudulent charges incurred from Wednesday evening, my online statements suggest otherwise. As you can see below from an excerpt from my Capital One statement, the first three charges were not mine. They appear to be typical charges, but they occurred after the card was stolen. For one, my car does not take $70 worth of gas, but Capital One does not know this. Anyways, I showed this activity statement below to my mom online to so she could see the unauthorized charges that had posted so far.

And then I noticed the item pasted at the bottom.

Posted Date	Description		Amount
AUG 27, 2010	EXXONMOBIL 47828272 ARLINGTON VA	Gas/Automotive	$70.59
AUG 27, 2010	WASH METRORAIL00006304 WASHINGTON DC	Other Travel	$60.00
AUG 27, 2010	WASH METRORAIL00006304 WASHINGTON DC	Other Travel	$60.00
AUG 26, 2010	TAYLOR GOURMET 485 K LLC WASHINGTON DC	Dining	$15.51
AUG 23, 2010	INTEREST CHARGE:SPECIAL TRANS	Interest Charge	$18.66
AUG 19, 2010	UNITED AIR 0162112233068 ROSEMONT IL	Airfare	$221.40
AUG 18, 2010	CARMINE'S WASHINGTON DC	Dining	$29.20
AUG 17, 2010	CAPITAL ONE ONLINE PYMT AuthDate 17-AUG	Payment	($293.14)
AUG 13, 2010	24 HOURS OF BOOTY 704-365-4417 NC	Other	$25.00

24 Hours of Booty?! A twinge of panic hit me. What in the...ohhhhh, yeah. While my mom's eyes scanned my charges, I was quick to mention that charge there.

Me: "Oh, look at that charge there. Hahaha, haha. You would think that'd be something inappropriate, right, Mom? Well you see, the thing is, I have this friend Carl..."

Mom: "What is THAT?"

Me: "As I was saying, my friend Carl is participating in this 24-hour bike ride to benefit cancer research, and I contributed to the cause online. You'd THINK that would be something kinky, right? Hahaha!"

The Lance Armstrong Foundation organizes these 24-hour bike rides in different cities across the country, and Carl had signed up for the one in Columbia, MD this weekend.

Now, what I should've done is pretend it was indeed something salacious. Here's how that would all go.

Me: "What the he-I have no idea how that-How did that charge get on there?! Those bandits sure must be at it again (insert nervous laugh). I'm outraged that they would soil my name with that trash!"

Mom: "But, Hilary, that charge is from August 13. That was over a week ago..."

Me: "Oh, that's so strange, they must've manipulated the system somehow-hey what's that over there?"(furiously pushes ALT F4 to close browser window)

Then I'd leave my poor mom cursing the 18 years of her life she spent raising me. Good thing it was a legit, wholesome charge. And, she did raise me right. I'm smart enough to know not to show her my AMEX statement. KIDDING, Mom. Kidding!

Cotton Candy, Sweet and Low, Let Me See Your Lobster Rooooll

2010-08-27T16:00:00.007-04:00

While that 1994 song "Tootsie Roll" by 69 Boyz from the middle school/high school mixer era has fallen back into the woodwork (thankfully), lobster rolls have never lost their style.

When it was all said and done, I spent two hours of valuable work time stalking, waiting and then mercilessly devouring a delicious Maine lobster roll. After hearing from a friend that the Red Hook Lobster Truck had made its way to McPherson Square yesterday, I was on high alert for their pending trip to the Metro Center area today.

I sounded the bugle. I sent out an email to those I knew who worked nearby Metro Center to generate interest. I bookmarked the Lobster Truck's Twitter page on my phone. I made a special trip to the bank for plenty of cash. And lastly, I cut back on my regular morning breakfast to save room for my upcoming feast.

Then, I embarked on my journey at 10:45AM from Chinatown to Metro Center. Phone in hand, I updated the Twitter page every minute. Obsessive? Yes. To make myself feel less stalkerish, I stopped in at H&M and Banana Republic to convince myself that I wasn't just wandering aimlessly in search of a food truck. I walked around several blocks, several times hoping I would spot the truck before the location was posted on Twitter. No luck.

And then the crowds started. Around 11:15AM, four people with smart phones in hand walked towards me at the intersection of 12th and G talking about the food truck. Noooo, I thought. NOOO! My friend Patrick and his coworker, also on high alert, called me to find out where I was and met up with me at my corner. Our group got larger, and then spotted another line forming across the street by the metro entrance. Guess we'll follow the crowd. An older man assured people that the truck would be arriving at this corner and like sheep, we all believed him.

Around 60 people formed that initial line. Friend Teddy and his coworker made an appearance soon after and decided to wait back in line rather than cut. After waiting 30 minutes for the lobster truck to arrive (it was stuck in traffic), we waited another 20 or so to get to the ordering counter. My friends Laura and Mehul met up and saved a spot nearby to eat in the shade while I made the purchase. They charged $15 per lobster roll and $3.50 for a whoopie pie.

The Lobster Truck owners drive up to Maine weekly to get fresh lobsters and you could tell that they weren't messing around. Our sweetly succulent lobster meat was mixed with mayo, scallions, celery and special seasoning. There was the option to have the meat mixed in plain butter, too. Shrimp rolls, Maine root soda, freshly squeeze lemonade, and plain fresh lobster meat were also on sale. Pricey, but well worth the wait!

Here are some testimonials from my friends:

Before the adventure began...

"I’ve got a lunch scheduled [today], but a) if the truck arrives near 12:30 and I can persuade my group to come to the truck, I will, or b) if the truck arrives significantly earlier, I will try to flee the building, run to the truck and then fake it during my second lunch. “Oh, this sandwich is so good, mmm, oh yes, I’ve never had a lunch this good [insert more lies here]."" -- Patrick

"Is Rock Lobster going down today or do I have to settle for Love Shack?" -- Mehul

Upon eating...

"This lobster roll is great, but why the hell didn't you buy us lemonade?" -- Laura (whose testimony comes with a side of sarcasm)

"While it may not be true that Lobsters find a mate for life, I'm glad that one found its way into my delicious sandwich." -- Mehul (whose testimony comes with a picture)

"The food was good. The experience was great. You can't go wrong standing outside in nice summer weather with happy, about-to-be-fed people. But you can wish for much more butter in your lobster roll." -- Patrick (whose testimony comes with wishful thinking)

"It might have been the wait. The anticipation. The anxiety. Or the hunger in my belly... But, that was seriously D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S. The dudes in front of us went strong and got the Connecticut, which apparently is the lobster meal deal, plus the shrimp roll ($8) for $26. I think I should have done that. The whoopie pie is good, but a bit too much. I'm in need of milk. I haven't washed my hands [because] I'm still savoring the smell of butter and lobster..." -- Teddy (whose testimony comes with buttered hands)

An hour later...

"Sadly, I'm going to wash my hands now." -- Teddy

Dear Bandit(s):

2010-08-26T11:17:00.011-04:00

I am writing to thank you for making my life a little spicier last evening. I am usually quite careful when it comes to keeping my "valuables" (and by valuables, I mean my perpetually cashless wallet) close to my person, but I guess your little stunt last night has resurrected my paranoia.

Who knew a little Greek Cafe in Dupont Circle would be prime location to prey on an innocent coed. In any event, I credit you for your slickness. Had my Metro SmartTrip card registered at the turnstiles, I would've trotted on home without even thinking to look inside my wallet until the next day. Instead, I tried each turnstile twice to enter the station, but the card seemed de-magnitized. Then and only then did I re-open my wallet to put the dud card back in and look for an alternative. I'll say, though, the fact that you took my Loft gift card, insurance prescription card, and Carefirst card and stuck them in as placeholders for the three credit cards you stole was pure genius. Furthermore, stopping first at Starbuck's to charge something was even smarter because "everyone" drinks Starbucks, right? That doesn't arouse the suspicion of credit card companies, right?

Wrong. I don't drink coffee. And bad idea to burglarize my wallet with your burglarious hands since I never have cash on me. The joke's on you. You may think you made off well with your $550 Walmart purchase, but I'm thinking it may not get delivered to your residence since the credit card company notified Walmart today of this fradulent charge.

I am also curious, do you really like sushi or did you just charge $50 to Thai Chef up the street to throw the credit card companies off your track again? If you really do like sushi and stopped for a quick dinner, well, then I like your taste. Maybe we could be friends after all. Thai Chef is a great spot. Though the $120 worth of Smart Trip metro fares and gas you purchased will never be seen again, I will be refunded certainly. And have fun riding the DC metro system. It'll open doors to a misery you'll never quite get used to.

In any event, this all turned out for the better. My American Express card was on its last legs. It was starting to split and I had been wondering lately whether it would make it another year until the expiration date yielded a new card in the mail. Thanks for expediting the process of getting a fresh card.

I also want to thank you for giving me material for my blog, the excuse to use the out-dated term "bandit," and the opportunity to type the word "burglarious," that I didn't know existed until reading it recently in a local newspaper.

Take care and hope you enjoyed the sushi.

Best,
Hilary

P.S. I don't know whether to curse DC Metro for ineptitude yet again or thank them for the malfunctioning turnstiles. Turns out my card worked fine this morning. Anyways, I'm babbling now. I'll see you when I see you...and this time, I'll be ready.

Speaking of Roast Beef...

2010-08-25T11:02:00.012-04:00

How do you like yours? Medium?

Or are you more of a well-done kinda person?

Me? I kinda like mine medium-well, with lots of marbling.

Except that's not roast beef. That's my burnt forearm in its third day of healing. Actually, it kind of resembles dry-aged beef or a slice of prosciutto. Good thing it it doesn't smell like roast beef, or I would slather it with brie and eat it for lunch.

Take Me to Cherry Street

2010-08-24T16:44:00.007-04:00

Today's shout out goes to Taylor Gourmet. I met up with a former coworker there to lunch on some good eats. We both empathized with how we struggle to decide what to order anytime we enter the premisis. Their sandwich selections are just so tasty! Instead of going with my favorite, the Philadelphia Landfill, I opted to try one of their chicken cutlet hoagies.

My eyes scanned the list of options and screeched to a halt at The Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Hello, weight gain. I chose to order a six inch sandwich, which came with their homemade marinara, sharp provolone, and homemade italian breaded chicken cutlets. Fantastico. But as the words were exiting my mouth at the time to place the order, something caught the corner of my eyes. As if time switched to slow motion, my mouth kept moving as my eyes were pulled down to focus on the paper sign taped to the register. "The Cherry Street is here!" Or something like that. This speciality sandwich consisted of freshly-carved roast beef, garlic spread, brie cheese, hot peppers, and arugula. Wow, I thought. What a great combination.

As I regained my focus and came to from my momentary blackout, I repeated my order. I stuck with the chicken cutlets and was pleased with the outcome. But, I still plan to head back there soon before I switch jobs so I can check out the Cherry Street.

I read elsewhere online that they roast this cut of meat with cloves of garlic imbedded in the flesh. That particular article posted a picture of the sandwich. Now I know what I will be looking for next time. Though, I think I would prefer mine heated and melty. Not so much a fan of cold, meaty, roast beef.

Put Me on IR

2010-08-22T22:11:00.009-04:00

A spectacular day of food and friends ended with a sizzle. Earlier in the day, I met up with some good college friends for a potluck brunch at Sheri's house. The spread was killer: bagels, lox spread, egg casserole with cheese sauce, home fries, turkey sausage, dumplings, chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting and mimosas. My college roommate of four years, Jenny, brought her 6-month-old daughter Molly with her which was one of the highlights. She had the sunniest disposition, cutest smile and bounds of bouncy energy. It was great catching up with everyone and I hope we can do it more frequently.

Next, I traveled to my parents' house for Sunday dinner. The only downside was that I was still carrying a food baby from brunch. There wasn't much room left for our feast of pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, cornbread, baked beans, mac and cheese, salad and fruit. And to make things worse, I burned part of my forearm on the inside of the oven door as I went to remove the cornbread.

You can't quite tell from the picture, but burn mark is swollen about a half inch off my arm. Just as the poison ivy from my landscaping escapades has started to fade, in comes another dermatological affliction. Let's just hope this one heals better than the other oven burn from four years ago that now resembles a birth mark. This weekend also marks one of the first times I haven't made cobbler in almost three months. I'm falling apart!

Oh, and my house still smells like pork.

Wielding the Mighty Power of Pork

2010-08-21T18:15:00.008-04:00

Yesterday evening, I created a monster. A monster powerful enough to infuse a house with flavor. At last, I slow-roasted some pork shoulder. The label called it pork butt/shoulder, which bewilders me. I've seen pigs before, and their anatomy doesn't suggest their shoulders are anywhere near their rear ends. Maybe these are freak pigs from the Amazon.

The friends who piggy-backed on my journey? An ancient Cuisinart blender, a big porcelain baking dish, a yellow onion, four garlic cloves, dried mustard, brown sugar, white wine vinegar, oregano, cumin, salt, black pepper, and chili powder. (I decided to follow The Pioneer Woman's recipe).

In any event, the pictures will document my journey. I only opened the oven three times. Once after ten minutes of cooking (I guess I really do have OCD), once two hours in to see if I needed to add more liquid, and lastly to remove the butts from their nice long nap.

It's like two pigs fightin' under a blanket. These pork butts got back! Each weighing in at about 3.5 pounds and boneless, I slightly trimmed some of the top fat layer before introducing them to their aromatic rub.

The yellow onion was SHARP! If that's even how it should be described. BOY did it make me cry. Butt, soon enough, I knew they'd be tears of joy. And then the Cuisinart didn't work. Maybe I should have taken the "I haven't used this blender in years since it doesn't normally work" comment from my mom more seriously. Or at least tested it out before I had loaded it up with ingredients.

On to plan B. My college blender. I used to curse it for its inability to crush ice, but it worked out just fine on the onion. Crisis averted.

And then I slathered the blended rub all over the pork butts finding every nook and cranny. I stared at them for a few minutes, admiring their beauty and wiping the stinging onion tears from my eyes. It was still so potent. Then I popped them into a 300 degree oven at 10:00pm and set my alarm for 5:00am. Seven hours should do the trick, I thought.

Next it was time to make some barbecue sauce. This was taken from a Bobby Flay recipe that I ever-so-slightly modified by adding sauteed onion and making a roux so that it would turn out thicker than it has for me in the past. In this mixture is dry mustard, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, molasses, soy sauce, salt, ground black pepper, and water. Sweet and tangy! It will be used tomorrow on some pulled pork sandwiches.

I finally went to bed sometime after midnight by which point the smells from the oven had wafted their way around the premises. I woke up several times, each to a more intense aroma. Luckily I was too tired to get up each time to check on my project, but the mouth-watering scent eventually worked its way into my dreams. And then, at last, I woke up on my own at 4:59am and hopped out of bed to retrieve my presents from the oven.

Oh sweet goodness. The rub had crisped up on its own on the top layer of fat which protected the succulent meat falling apart below. And oh, the aroma was times ten. I think it was a good thing both of my roommates were out of town because it was ridiculous. After using a spatula and tongs to lift each butt out of the baking liquid, I looked in horror at the inside of the pan. My mother's going to kill me. The top two inches of the white porcelain were soot black. The clear lid was also black. I used Pam, but my attempts to wipe it away with a paper towel to see how strongly it stuck was fruitless. I decided to deal with it later. More important pressing items lay ahead. The pulling of the pork! After letting the meat sit for about 20 minutes, I put each butt on a separate plate lined with paper towels to mop up some of the grease and grabbed two forks out of the utensil drawer.

After removing the top layer of fat/skin, I pulled away. Look at that! So tender, so juicy, so layered with flavor! At this point it was about 5:45am and I was shredding my pork. I paused here and there to eat some, but it was as if time stood still. And finally, I was finished. The fruits of my labor.

I wish my old camera could better capture the radiance of colors and textures of the finished product. The fragrance of the tender shreds of meat permeated my inner being.

Noticing that darkness had crept silently away, I seized the opportunity to check out the sunrise from my backyard. I can't tell you the last time I saw a sunrise as I am NOT a morning person (unless it comes to catching a flight or pieces of pork). After successfully cleaning the pan and lid, I declared my mission accomplished. I rewarded myself by watching an episode of Mad Men and then heading back to bed for a couple hours.

Upon waking again, I headed to my parents' house to deliver the pork and return some cooking wares. Sebastian was especially eager to greet me this time. He couldn't stop sniffing me! I was smothered in delicious pork fumes. When I returned home, I opened the front door to an assault of smells. Good smells, but it was like a gust of wind hit me in the face. I knew the aromas were strong, but hadn't noticed how powerful they were until I had left and come back. Everything and anything with cloth in the house absorbed the smell of the pork and the rub. Having seen a TV commercial where a hideous woman at a bar lured many a man over because she had bacon in her purse gave me a feeling of confidence. If I don't air the house out, I may have weeks and weeks to wield the power of this pork scent in my favor. I know my roommates will thank me later. What better way to meet guys than wearing clothes infused with pork?

A Solution to the Impatience Problem

2010-08-20T13:25:00.003-04:00

Saturday morning will be like Christmas morning for me. I decided it's finally time to slow roast some pork shoulder after talking about doing so weeks ago. The main roadblock that has preventing me from executing this task is time. But tonight, I plan on buying the meat, making the rub and placing it in the oven around my bed time. That way I can prevent myself from checking on it and can wake up to the sights and smells of succulent slow-roasted meat.

I can't wait to eat a pulled pork sandwich for breakfast tomorrow! Pictures soon to follow.

Weird Ice Cream Wins My Heart

2010-08-19T18:28:00.004-04:00

Maybe a couple of months ago, I tried something from a dessert menu that did not sound the least bit appealing from its listing: sea salt ice cream. For one, it's ice cream, and my body does not tolerate it much these days. Two, ice cream is usually the last thing on my priority list of desserts in general. And three, sea salt?! It ended up being surprisingly delicious. Something about the sweet and savory combo made it special.

Well today, as part of the DC area's Restaurant Week, I went to Indian Restaurant Rasika with coworkers to take advantage of the good lunch deal. $20.10 for an appetizer, entree, and dessert. Rasika never ceases to amaze me. I have only dined there twice (this being the second time) because it's pricey, but would be a frequent customer if I had the means. It's hands down the best Indian I've ever had.

The highlight of the meal? Banana-black pepper ice cream. Strange and mysterious it appeared, but amazing it was. I was leery of selecting it, especially after the waiter stressed that the black pepper played a major role in this concoction. But, again, I was pleasantly surprised. It was phenomenal. Pure genius. The banana was the star in this dessert, and the black pepper undertones gave it a punch that elevated my taste buds. I'm not sure if this is a regular dessert item on their menu, but highly recommend trying it. Maybe I'll have to start going there for Happy Hour and ordering drinks and ice cream at the bar. I'll figure something out...

The Memory Game

2010-08-18T21:15:00.003-04:00

Did you ever play that memory game as a kid that involved a deck of special cards spread out face down on the floor? Maybe you don't remember. Ha. As my memory serves me, I was quite good at it. The object of the game was to turn over two cards at a time with the hopes that you could add them to your pile if they matched. If they didn't match, you had to turn them back over and remember their placement, so that when your turn came around again, you could remember where the pairs were and turn over two matching cards. Pretty simple, eh?

Well, I wish they had a similar game for adults, but one that was applicable to daily life. A sort of exercise that helped you remember the bits and pieces of your day. I usually don't have a problem remembering work-related tasks, but when it comes to life outside of work, that's another story. Sometimes it's like a fuse shorts out in my brain. I can be walking from my bedroom to the kitchen with the intent of finishing a piece of pie in the fridge but once I've arrived at my destination, I forget why I came there in the first place. Tragic.

After recently cleaning and reorganizing my room to make better use of the space, I decided to start regularly making my bed to keep up that pristine appearance. Well, earlier this week, upon returning home from a busy day at work, I got into my room and stood there for a second utterly shocked.

"Who the hell made my bed?!" I thought.

And then I was glad that was a conversation going on solely in the quiet of my head. How could I have forgotten that I made my own bed?! I think it's time to start charting my day on cards. Then at the end of the day, I can turn them over and look at them to jog my memory. Let's just hope I don't shock myself when I read cards like "Went to work," or "Rode the metro." Because then there's no helping me.

Quit Doggin' Me, Dog!

2010-08-17T15:45:00.009-04:00

My beloved Sebastian is growing weary in his old age. He recently turned 11 in early June and shows now signs of perking up. Yes, he has his moments where snippets of his puppy-hood work their way into his daily routine. But, he mostly just lies around looking cute.

We got him as a wee puppy right before I set sails to college in the summer of 1999. Since then, he's learned to love each of my family members in a unique way. For me, at least, he seems to perk up a lot more when I arrive at my parents house. But, for reasons I'll never understand, he continues to act sheepish or untrusting around me at times. I don't get it! Other than the couple of times I stepped on his tail by accident, I have done nothing but love this guy and treat him like a little brother (well, in a good way).

One of my signature moves is to lay down on the floor and wait for him to trot over and curl up next to me as the little spoon. He knows I am a fan of cuddling. But then why is it that he can't relax and fall asleep? Any time I do this, day or night, he keeps one eye parked on me and the other closed. He's stares at me, wondering my next move. He sleeps with one eye open.

And then, the other day, I rushed over to my parents house in the morning sans shower to only get a butt-out hug from him. The normal greeting scene involves a speedy run to the front door on his part where I then squat down so he can jump up to put his front legs on my shoulders and lick my face. Yes. But this morning after he jumped up, he turned his head away and leaned back so that nothing other than the pads of his feet touched me. The nerve! Why you gotta dog me like that, Sebby? Why?!

The remainder of his myterious ways include staring at me from other rooms as if I'm going to steal something, stopping a couple feet short of me when I beckon him to come hither, immediately striking the submission pose when I come over to pet him, and giving me a prolonged stare of hatred following a routine bath (and by routine, I mean twice a year).

All that aside, I love this dog. I just wish I could understand him sometimes. I've asked him on several occasions to explain himself, the response to which is...a blank stare. At the very least, the staring and judging has to stop. I know trust takes a long time to build and seconds to shatter, so I can be patient with that. But, I didn't judge him and stare when he celebrated Mardi Gras earlier this year. So, why can't he extend me the same courtesy with how I act around the house?

Stuffing My Pie Hole with...well...Pie.

2010-08-16T21:34:00.019-04:00

On a swampy Washington evening with appetites in tow, friend Patrick and I embarked on a journey in search of some Dangerously Delicious Pies. Delicious they were. Dangerous to the waistline they will be. Located in the newly revamped H Street Corridor in Northeast DC, this pie stop's got it going on.

After disembarking from the sardine can that was the X2 metro bus, we walked a couple of blocks until we reached the pearly gates of pie-dom. The place was narrow like a row house and had a funky feel to it. Inside was a long bar counter featuring pie upon pie in a glass display case, and a chalked menu on a blackboard on the wall near the register. So many different options! And, many thanks to Patrick's $25 dollar Living Social deal, we had to order $50 dollars worth of pies. We seized that challenge and ordered a variety of sweet and savory pies and of course some quiche. They sold all of their items either by the slice or whole.

Our picks? A slice of each of the following for our dinner:
(Clockwise from the top)

BBQ Pork Pie
Wilted Spinach and Mushroom Quiche
S.M.O.G. Pie (Steak, Mushroom, Onion, Gruyere)
Crab and Cheddar Quiche

When ordering pie by the slice, the servers heat the pie up in a small counter-top oven and then deliver them to your table in these mini circular pie tins. Now, you would think that a BBQ Pork Pie would be a bit strange. At least that's what I thought. So glad we ordered it. The buttery, flaky crust of the pie was like a biscuit enveloping the pile of shredded pork, onions, sauce and spices. The S.M.O.G was equally satisfying and comforting. The Gruyere cheese was the winner in that pie. The two quiches were typical quiches, but the crusts had the perfect balance of crunch, flake and butter.

And for dessert? More pie!

Blueberry Pie
Apple Pie

My favorite blueberry pie hails from Maine and I will say, that this slice here was just as good! The apple pie, too, was delicious, but I would be curious to taste it warm next time. Yes, there will be a next time. And in case that next time doesn't come soon enough, we grabbed some pie slices to-go! Two slices of blueberry, one pecan, and one Key Lime. My two boxes made it home safely without leaking into my bag, being smashed, or eaten prematurely. I'm not so sure I can guarantee the safety of Patrick's pies.

I am happy to report that I know what I'm eating for breakfast tomorrow. The to-go boxes say "Thank you!" on them. But, who should I really be thanking? Thank YOU, DDP. I'd also like to thank Living Social for promoting pie gluttony. Lastly, and most importantly, I'd like to thank Patrick for helping to keep the eating spirit alive by sharing this coupon with me.

Skirting Produce Issues

2010-08-15T19:44:00.006-04:00

I was a little leery of the produce selection at my Safeway this afternoon. Having made a trip to the Whole Foods earlier to buy some skirt steak, I had contemplated buying some plums and blueberries because they just looked so pretty. But, as I suspected, they weren't anywhere near ripe. I ended up picking out this lemon instead because it looked so strange. It appears to have a outtie belly-button.

One thing my Safeway's reliable with is having consistently ripe/near rotten produce. For me, though, it tends to work out fine since I am usually too impatient to wait for fruit to ripen. In the case of making guacamole and cobblers, I like my fruit to be ripe upon purchase. This time, though, the number of fruit flies swarming the peach, plum and nectarine section almost outnumbered the fruit. A clump of donut peaches were so over-ripe that their skin was wrinkled and shriveling. The plums, both red and black, were quite ripe too. I decided to go for it anyways.

And now I am quite concerned that this plum blueberry cobbler might be a bust. After slicing the red plums, I found most were complete mush...like apple sauce consistency. The black plums weren't ripe enough and lacked depth in flavor. Why's it always so hit or miss with you, Produce?! I made a peach blackberry cobbler Friday night with Sheri that turned out fine (though I continue to not be a fan of the blackberry (or raspberry) seeds that stick to my molars afterward). The only problem here was the fruit bubbling over the crumble topping resulting in soggy topping. The filling was tasty, though. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I am finally growing weary of all this cobbler making.

I will take a step back to earlier this evening when I grilled four skirt steaks. That's got me all jazzed up! I had never tasted one before, let alone cooked one. The steaks were about five inches wide by a half-inch thick and long enough to serve as belts. Some of them looked like strands of ammunition. I decided to give them a dry rub before submerging in some liquid marinade. I first rubbed them with some brown sugar before dusting them with ground black pepper, ground ginger, dried diced onion and dry mustard. I then plunged them in a ziplock bag with a mixture of olive oil, soy sauce, Worcestire sauce, white wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, and minced garlic. MMmm, I wanted so badly to lick my hands after making sure the mixture was all up everywhere in the steaks.

The grilling part was fantastic since they cooked so quickly in the heat of the molten hot coals. I didn't even have to put the lid on the grill. Slicing them up was a workout, but the taste made me forget how profusely I sweat during the process. The crust on the slices complemented the juicy, tender meat. The sweetness of the brown sugar mellowed out the tangy bite of the Dijon and vinegars. I wish I had taken pictures! Next time!

At last, the cobbler made it out of the oven. And, the filling didn't bubble over the crust! It tasted just fine...just not as exciting as the skirt steaks.

A Happy Bloggiversary!

2010-08-14T16:15:00.006-04:00

I made it! One year ago, I dipped my toes into the world of blogging, and now am almost completely submerged. I still have some things to learn, but for my intentions, I've got the basics down and have enjoyed every minute. I started this blog for one main reason: to keep up my writing skills while in between jobs or working outside of my career path. I soon found it to be a great way to chronicle the good times in life, most of which revolve around food. I didn't care about readership. I still don't. I have to admit, it's fun when other people enjoy my posts, but I still mainly blog for my love of writing and food. What makes my blog unique? It has only seven, count, SEVEN official followers. And even with that, I don't even know who reads it regularly.

As luck may have it, today I had the opportunity to meet a former winner of The Food Network's Throwdown with Bobby Flay, Father Leo Patalinghug. Try saying that five times fast. A Catholic priest, foodie, and culinary whiz, this guy's perspective on life couldn't be more perfect. He's truly the Philipino-male-priest version of me when it comes to passion for food.

I ventured to McPherson square with my brother James (aka Jamie, Jimbo, Jim, Jimmy, BB Bumpkin, mini-punk, and little &#$*@! (the last three of which were coined by our loving father, Big Bad Bob)) to a small gathering at the Catholic Information Center. Winning the Throwdown for his steak fajitas launched Fr. Leo onto a new platform for sharing the good Word and palatable wisdom about bringing families closer with regular meals. He recently published the third edition of his book "Grace Before Meals," has a website that contains cooking webcasts, a blog of recipes, a weekly newsletter, and countless appearances on TV, speaking engagements, and radio shows.

What excited me most initially was the promise of eating whatever Fr. Leo planned to prepare. What inspires me most about him, besides his culinary talents and dynamic personality, are his sage wisdom, strong convictions, and ability to use his gifts to do good in this world. The energy he brought to his cooking table was also quite contagious. He told stories of how all of this began and how the simple concept of satisfying hunger is at the root of all love and good things in this world.

He threw in some Biblical references during his presentation where he prepared a tasty, yet spicy penne a la vodka for us, and expressed how important food was to nourishing the body and soul. His sense of humor was also entertaining. Before the camera's started rolling, Fr. Leo took the bottle of vodka he planned to use in his dish and pretended to open it and shake it at us like the priests do when blessing the congregation with holy water in church during major holidays. He later referred to it as Russian holy water. My man.

My short narrative about my adventure doesn't do Fr. Leo justice. He had several nuggets of wisdom in there--the main of which was the importance of family meals (or gatherings of friends and families for meals). Strong families are the difference-maker in society. Food brings us all together. It encourages conversation.

After enjoying the pasta dish that Fr. Leo prepared, Jimbo and I got our books signed and headed straight to the grocery store to replicate that simple goodness.

Here's me talking to Fr. Leo while he signs my book. Note (or please refrain from noting) the disaster that is the nest on the back of my hair. I think I might have found where Fievel is hiding out.

I guess all those squats finally paid off as I was able to mug for the camera, crouch down, and hold the pose with Fr. Leo for several consecutive seconds.

And here is the divine concoction. Creamy, spicy, aromatic and layered with flavor, my replication of Fr. Leo's Penne A La Vodka.

As this bloggiversary winds down, I want to thank all of those blogger friends out there and non-blogger loyalists (all three of you) who read mine. I have found many an inspiration from reading my friends' posts and have also discovered many entertaining blogs from seeing who follows what. It's been real tasty.

Weird Food Combos

2010-08-13T16:00:00.003-04:00

Friday the 13 is supposed to be a creepy day. For me, not so much. I partook in a fair amount of creepy food combinations, but otherwise thought this Friday the 13th was the best I've ever had. Things are starting to fall into place. I have a few general goals before I turn the dirty 30 in just over a year from now, one of which has to do with my career aspirations. And getting a much-desired job offer in the afternoon was the vanilla ice cream on the cobbler I like to call my life. I can't begin to describe how elated I am, how relieved I feel, and how positive things are looking for the future. Once things are finalized with my acceptance letter, I will write more about that.

But aside from that, I wasn't feeling so hot as I discovered the beautifully smooth Shiraz I enjoyed Thursday night had a nasty side the next day (even after only a couple glasses). It's being all sorts of mean today...and to help take that edge off, I've been cramming the most unlikely of food combinations down my gullet in the hopes to chase the angry Shiraz out of my system. Why is it that hangovers dig out the lust for greasy, comfort food? It would make more sense to head towards fruits, vegetables and freshly prepared foods to purge the hurt from one's system. I guess when you feel like you've been run over a circus train, thinking logically is out of the question.

This got me to thinking about my occasional cravings for strange food combos. As I frosted my perfectly toasted cinnamon-raisin bagel with smoked salmon cream cheese this morning, I wondered how many other people (other than pregnant women) have food quirks like mine. You would think that grouping would be repulsive...fish with cream, cinnamon, and raisins? Yes, please. It's delicious (hungover or not). For lunch, I downed two ice cream sandwiches (a Snicker's ice cream bar and an M&M ice cream sandwich) along with half of a toasted blueberry bagel with smoked salmon cream cheese. Is your mouth watering yet? Thought so. Here are a couple of other good numbers that seem so wrong, but are oh, so good.

Cinnamon-raisin bread, toasted and smothered with melted, sharp cheddar cheese
Baked beans mixed with grated parmesan cheese and dolloped on a hot dog with plenty of ketchup and mustard
PB & J sandwich, covered with a mixture of apple sauce and raisins on the top slice of bread
Cold, chunky New England clam chowder straight out of the can
Or just plain old cold dinner leftovers for breakfast, the best of which are spaghetti and meatballs, or eggplant parmesan.

Don't be scared. Give them a try.

Drowned Rat

2010-08-12T14:15:00.006-04:00

I will start off by saying that the picketers came back again today. The strong rain torrents and winds did not discourage their plight to fight for benefits from their employer. This time, though, the blow up rat was replaced by several more cowbells. Maybe the rat wouldn't have fared well in the rain. As I was walking past them to grab some food, I noticed them stopping to take a break. I meant to go ask one of them for more details on their cause, but my hunger defeated that curiousity.

In addition to the cowbell annoyance, my basement flooded this morning as a result of the flash flood that drowned parts of the region. I am not one to point fingers, but all ten fingers and all ten toes are pointing right at my landlord all the way over to his cottage in Ireland. Having the main downspout from your house gutters empty at the top of the outside stairs leading to the basement is, let's say, less than ideal. The result? A little change of scenery for my morning shower. I spent the main portion of my morning outside with the lightning and rain torrents hauling bucket after bucket of rain water that streamed through the cracks in the door frame to the basement. Rugs soaked. Dirt and leaves everywhere. Only half of the wood floor got covered, and I was able to move stuff in time to spare more damage.

Oh, did I mention that I've always wanted to use a wet/dry vac? No. Because I don't. But, now I get to see how well the landlord's works. And, regular emptying of his dehumidifier will become a new chore for the next few days. Upon calling the landlord, who I have no problems with otherwise, I was informed that he has pieces of wood outside near the bushes that he uses in his effort to re-route the downspout waterflow around the entrance to those stairs. A teeny bit of information that could've been more useful at the lease signing.

Last but not least, Fievel remains at large. The landlord told me to move the traps under the crawl spaces under the kitchen sink and the stove since that is where he has caught mice in the past when they had a "problem." Again, another piece of information that would've been more useful at the lease signing.

I am now drowning in work after coming in a couple hours late after dealing with the house woes. I wish I wasn't such a downer today, but hey, at least the weekend's almost here and the sun's finally out.

Needs Less Cowbell

2010-08-11T09:51:00.005-04:00

On my morning walk from the Gallery-Place/Chinatown metro stop to my office at 7th and Indiana, I was greeted by the hollering and angry drumming of picketers in front of a building across the street.

I wonder what they're so angry about? Could it be wages? If so, then why'd they spend a couple hunny on a gigantic, 20-foot blow up rat perched on top of a parked car? How long will they last out there in the heat? From the sounds of it now, they're still going strong, beating plastic buckets, parading their signs up and down the block all the while screaming, whistling and jeering.

And if my ears have served me correctly, there might be a member of the Blue Oyster Cult working the lines with them. Whoever's working the cowbell down there deserves more than a pat on the back. I can hear the loud tinging of said cowbell all the way up on the 9th floor of my building. And, it's starting to get old. Real old. If it's annoying me way over here, then whoever they're targeting at their building must be beyond irritated. I might go down there and join them just so they'll stop soon.

And what will become of the blow up rat once they're done? Who's the lucky one who gets to take that home with them? I say take it to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Good Baked Goods

2010-08-10T15:51:00.002-04:00

I dined at Chef Geoff's downtown last night with my family and cousins, and for the first time in a while, ordered dessert at the end. I usually don't have room for dessert, and come to think of it, didn't have room this time either, but went for it anyways. My parents were there to treat us all, so that may have played a role in my decision.

As my eyes darted through the menu selections, they screeched to a halt at the word "Mixed Berry Crisp." I remember making a mixed berry cobbler earlier this summer and not enjoying the berry marriage going on under the crumbly topping. There was something about it that ruined it for me, but I can't quite pinpoint it. The fruit tasted like it had been mulled with wine or tea, and I am not a fan of mulled wine. Maybe that's it. I wanted so badly to order it and see how a good DC restaurant prepares the one item I can make in my sleep. But, I decided to go with the pineapple upside down cake with cinnamon ice cream instead. The presentation was great and the cake itself was decadent.

My dad and cousin-by-marriage Erika both ordered the cherry pie (which came highly recommended by our waitress). And, hoping to change my mind about cherries, I asked for a bite. The pie came out in a bowl, so it appeared like a chicken pot pie. And, OH, was it mercilessly hot. Scalded my mouth instantly. Strike two, Cherries! And the crust was a bit too gummy for my liking. My dad and Erika liked it, but to me it was disappointing.

It made me think of all the times I have been disasppointed by fruit pies or cobbler-esque desserts. Whole Foods' take on these have never met my expectations. I love all of their prepared foods, but their fruit pies were always lacking in punch with the filling and especially the crust. This has been precisely why I do not order these kinds of desserts at restaurants, to spare myself the disappointment. As of now, besides homemade cobblers, my favorite pies and fruit desserts are a blueberry pie from a restaurant in Maine, McDonald's apple pie, and Burger King's apple or cherry pie. Sad, but true.

My friend Patrick told me about this Dangerously Delicious pie place on the H Street Corridor that I have mentioned before. But, I have yet to try it. I just want to find a restaurant (bakery even) that has basic, yet fantastic fruit pies. Is that too much to ask? How hard can it be? Maybe I have just been looking for greatness in all the wrong places.

Lemon: 1, Hilary: 0

2010-08-09T16:45:00.000-04:00

Time continues to tick away as do my options for cobblers. Last week I made a cherry cobbler and a white peach-nectarine one. I am rather indifferent about cherries. Eaten fresh, they're a pain what with that interfering pit. Baked, and used as flavoring for candy et al, they're fine but not noteworthy to my tastebuds. The cherry cobbler was just "fine," but to cherry lovers (my roommate) it was deemed a success. Later, on the weekend, I found perfectly ripe white peaches and nectarines that served as perfectly pretty partners in their baked form.

Both were beautiful on the outside and the inside, with specks of cranberry colored flesh that carried a sweet, perfumey aroma. In my haste to get this operation in and out of the oven, I made an unfortunate choice. Rather than squeeze the lemons over a bowl, collect the seeds, and then pour into the fruit bowl, I squeezed them quickly and directly over the bowl. Juice sprayed out everywhere, but I took no notice. There was aready flecks of flour and sugar, and tomato sauce (from the spaghetti and meatballs I threw down earlier in the evening) about my outfit.

And then I noticed my favorite avocado-green tank top! Ruined! Out, out damn, spots! Who knew that lemon acid was that powerful. I guess that's why most normal people wear aprons. I blame the GAP for their sub-par dying.

This turned out quite nicely. It's on my top list of favorite.

Another happy ending for all, thanks to vanilla ice cream!

Fievel Goes East

2010-08-08T20:21:00.010-04:00

This morning while checking email I found out that I wasn't home alone after all. Fievel has headed east...far east to downtown Silver Spring. I saw him scurry through the living room, pause for a second to make eye contact with me, and scurry onward into the mixing bowl of TV wires. I swear I saw him smile with my ear-splitting proclamation of "OH. MY. GOD."

I can handle ants, I can handle small spiders, but I can't handle unwanted mammals. Thank goodness I didn't see a cockroach, but mice rank second in terms of the shudder factor. After my basement roommate came upstairs to see what the yelling was about, I headed to Strosnider's to pick up some mouse traps...the friendly ones. I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping and being woken up to the snap of a traditional mouse trap and then go find Fievel (and quite possibly friends) bloodied and broken on my floor. NO, thank you.

Instead, I spent an extra couple of bucks on these catch and release bad boys. I hope Fievel and friends like Jiff Extra Crunchy peanut butter. I took my two traps to the kitchen and placed a generous spoonful of peanut butter in each before treating myself to a spoonful. I texted one of my friends to tell him that I decided to use peanut butter in the traps and he replied with "Ha, don't you eat the mouse trap!" Jeez, people. I am a fan of the midnight snack, but I'm not that bad!

Check out Fievel's soon-to-be traveling case. It's only about four inches wide by five inches long, but for Fievel, it'll be quite roomy and has the promise of a free continental breakfast. I've decided that upon capture, I will be taking Fievel with me to Chevy Chase to release him to greener pastures.

Pay Me in Meatballs

2010-08-07T21:05:00.008-04:00

I used to love watching the movie The Wedding Singer, and especially enjoyed the part where Adam Sandler's character was paid in meatballs by a cute old lady who was using him for singing lessons. Last night, I met up with a former coworker of mine at newly-opened Carmine's in Chinatown to talk about things related to jobs, one of which I am seeking at her new place of employ. I have always been curious about Carmine's, having heard much talk about their family-style Italian feast and here I was, sitting at the bar, so close to actually experiencing it. While we grabbed a drink, I decided to tell my former coworker, that if hired, I would gladly accept overtime payment in the form of meatballs. She diligently jotted that down in her notes. Sweet. I hope she passes on the word to HR.

As luck had it, she and her friends invited me to join them for their meal and I graciously accepted. It got better. An order of spaghetti and meatballs, ravioli, and fried zucchini soon arrived to our table. My pupils dilated instantly. The meatballs were huge. The combination of the steaming spaghetti, pieces of the velvety meatball, and slices of ravioli melted in my mouth. In honor of Discovery Channel's "Shark Week" I devoured my serving without much regard for anything or anyone else at the table. Maybe I should've been a tad more dainty.

One the guys with us was the editor of the Washington Business Journal and was recognized by the woman heading up the PR for Carmine's. After she came by to chat him up, assuming the rest of us were reporters aiming to take a bite and pump out a note about the new place, she sent the CEO of the parent company of Carmine's over to meet us as well.

He was actually very interesting to listen to. He told stories of how they got a restaurant launched at The Atlantis in Paradise Island, Bahamas and gave cut-by-cut details of the rigorous training every cook had to undergo before the DC restaurant's grand opening. I was intrigued, but mostly by his tale of the quality control guru--their taste-tester. He made stuffing oneself into oblivion seem excruciating. Um, I'd love to get paid to live my life! He said there's one poor soul who has to fly down from New York every month to The Atlantis (such cruelty) do a taste test of everything on the menu (the nerve!) to assure that things maintain consistency for the sake of their brand. The owner said once you get through taking a bite of each appetizer, you have to sit down for a serious breather, then put your head back to the grindstone and eat on. Bravo! What do I need to do to get PAID to eat my heart out? Jeez, I am in the wrong line of work.

Overall, the experience at Carmine's was fantastic. I wouldn't say the food was out of this world, but it was pretty solid.

The Simple Life

2010-08-06T15:15:00.005-04:00

While I thought about writing today's post about my near-attempt at preparing a melted cheese on cold cheese treat, I found myself more compelled to unleash a commentary on Earthlings. So, I will take a break from my slammed day at work to pose a series of rhetorical questions.

Why are only babies, old people, and animals allowed to toot in public?
Why is it only ok for babies, old people, and ESPECIALLY animals to stare?
How come everyone looks the other way when when B, OP, and A throw table manners to the curb, yet they exhibit sheer disgust when I wind up with food remnants all over my face and clothes?
Why don't B, OP, and A have to suffer the daily 9-5 grind?
Why are there discounts (or sometimes free passes) for B, OP, and A on airplanes and food establishments?
Why do most people feel comfortable making small talk with B, OP, and A that they've never met, yet find it painful to make eye-contact, let alone exchange a smile, with non BOPAs in public?
Why are B, OP, and A always so adorable, endearing, and cute?

No, I'm not bitter that I have to conform to societal constraints when these genres of beings do not. I just find this all interesting sometimes. And, I often wonder when the lines begin to blur in that transition from childhood to normal-hood, and from normal-hood to old-hood. At what point in my 50s, 60s, or early 70s will things start to slide? Or will the slide begin earlier than I expect with much more subtlety? I have lived my childhood, but I didn't have the awareness then to cherish that blissful innocence and ignorance to civility. Since I won't be reincarnated as an animal, I must now wait until I am in my later 70s to really cut loose.

I can't wait for a more simple life. A time when I can really exhale, pause, sit back, and relax. Animals, mainly domesticated ones, have the life. Though, they will never understand how good they have it. All they have to do is love, eat, and play (except in this dog's case). Is there anything better in life than that? Why must we complicate things so much? Yeah, I know...the fully-developed human mind is a beautiful thing and has the capacity to achieve great things. A mind that babies don't quite have yet, that old people start to lose pieces of, and that animals will never have. I wouldn't trade that in for free-for-all tooting and staring. But sometimes, I just wish us non BOPAs could dial it down a bit, and lead lives not bogged down by the circus of activities, decisions, work, distractions, challenges, and hardships. But, I guess life's supposed to be that way. And in the end, we will be rewarded with AARP discounts.

Now that, my friends, is a look into the inner-workings of my mind. It's not terribly efficient, I'd say. I wish I could train my mind to do something earth-shattering, rather than clog it up with these musings. Back to work.

Finding a New Obsession

2010-08-05T13:12:00.003-04:00

Cobbler making season is nearing its end. I can feel it. And it makes me sad. I'm thinking once September hits, I will only have a couple more weeks left to obsess. That brings me to my next dilemma: what to do next? My friend Sheri was thoughtful enough to ask me this question earlier today and it has sparked a much-needed brainstorm with ample lead time for a decision.

I could steer my focus to savory items, which is likely what will happen. Or, I could stay the path of sweets and focus on pies. Pies! There are so many different kinds of pie, many of which can be fruit-filled making my life easier. Speaking of pies, my friend Patrick told me of this pie place (I think this is the spot) in the H-Street corridor of DC. Must check it out!

Yet, I think I am leaning more towards the following:

Sliders (beef, chicken, seafood, veggie--you name it. And the combinations of homemade condiments, toppings, and cheeses make it even more enticing to me).
Casseroles (there are a million of these out there! They could also double as my lunches/dinners for the week.)
Dips (layered, cream based, cheese based, baked--whatever!)

OR, I could just focus on one ingredient and see how many savory and sweet dishes I can make from them. Take bananas, for example, I could make smoothies, ice cream, bananas foster, quesadillas, hmmm....maybe not.

I've got at least another month to get cobbling out of my system. And, I hope by then I will be ready and eager to enslave myself to the demands of another food item.

We the Displeased

2010-08-04T15:45:00.004-04:00

Having raved about former Top Chef contender Spike Mendelsohn's Good Stuff Eatery earlier this week, I went to try his newest establishment, We The Pizza, last night. With high hopes of being transported into happy town, I was underwhelmed and frustrated with his New York-style pizzeria. Located right next door to Good Stuff, the place appeared to be set up similary on the inside. Seating upstairs, big menu displayed on the wall above the counter, and open kitchen.

But the service and the food itself left much to be desired. When I arrived with friends Julie and Laura, there wasn't much of a line yet. And behind the counter and display glass, there were at least ten people working, if not more: a few spinning raw dough and adding toppings to new pies, a few working the registers, a few pulling pies in and out of the oven, a soda maker and two people handling the order buzzers and handing out of food.

Then why did it take forever for them to serve us our already-baked slices of pie? How long does it take to toss a chopped salad together? If only they would've spent all that time making sure the food had more flavor, then the wait would've been worth it. Instead I was left with settling for an OK meal. It wasn't terrible, but I expected more from Spike.

Here's the Chop Salad. Complete with sundried tomatoes, chopped ice berg, red onion and slices of salami, ham and provolone, it could've used much more vinegar, or salt even in the dressing. The red-wine vinaigrette was over-used and tasted like plain vegetable oil.

The pepperoni were great, but the piece itself was crunchy on bottom due to reheating and slightly charring. I thought it tasted fine, albeit somewhat bland. I would have to say I prefer Sbarro's over this. Though, presentation wise, it looked like a winner.

Last and least was the white pizza. It tasted like plain American cheese on bread. The bottom was very crunchy, but burned black like a piece of charcoal. There wasn't even a hint of garlic and zero punch from the some of the sharp white cheeses they used.

Here's to hoping that these are just "kinks" that can be worked out over time. I will go back to try a different slice of pizza and the spaghetti and meatballs. I haven't given up completely, yet

Eye Patches Everywhere!

2010-08-03T11:31:00.003-04:00

It's starting to creep me out. Every day for the past few days I have seen someone wearing an eye patch. Not just any old eye patch, a black, satin eye patch. What could this mean? Are pirates taking over DC? I thought about this yesterday on my walk to the metro thinking how weird of a coincidence this was becoming. Then sure enough, a man in a seer-sucker suit strolls on by at 7th and D street donning none other than a silky eye patch.

I am no stranger to the eye patch. On two occasions during my childhood, I had to wear an eye patch after inflicting severe trauma on my left eye. The first time, I pierced my cornea with a holly leaf while bending down into a holly bush to get an errant whiffle ball. The second time, I was playing pick up softball with the neighborhood kids, swung the bat and hit the softball into my eye, again, scratching my cornea.

The thing is, I was not given the option of a sleek, black eye patch. I had this bulky make-shift white gauzey thing on my eye that made it appear that my eye had, in fact, been extracted. I think I had to wear it for a week, but it seemed like an eternity. And, boy, did the eye patch elicit many a quizzical stare. Couldn't they have invented something a little more discreet to shield the eye?

Oh, and I was also a member of a band called "The Eye Patches" back when I was seven. We wore...eye patches. Started by my cousin Matt who had nothing but hate for the New Kids on the Block, most of our songs were, in fact, NKOTB's but with different, more spiteful lyrics. While I was relegated to the role as back up dancer, I still was required to sing the lyrics during our rehearsals. The one I remember the most was "Oh, oh, ohh oh oh, we're hooked on drugs. Oh, oh, ohh oh oh, we look like thugs." To this day I still wonder why we never got a record deal out of this.

But I wonder what is going on in this area. Are people starting to get careless with their eye care? Are there just a lot of unlucky souls who happen to look in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or is this just a lifestyle choice? A new fashion trend? What's the story behind it! I need to know! For my own sanity! And if I see another eye patch wearer tomorrow...

DC Area Lunch Eats - Part Two

2010-08-02T11:38:00.007-04:00

I slacked a bit over the weekend because I didn't have the desire to sit infront of a computer on Saturday to finish up my list of lunch spots. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the great outdoor jungle in my front and back yards.

Like the rainforests of central America, the vine, weed, and insect situation had gotten beyond out of control. With the sole intention of mowing the lawn, I added on more labor and spent a couple hours pulling vines, clipping bushes, pulling weeds and letting 85 mosquitos drain me of my blood. Disgusting. Everything. The vines were so bad that their stalks had formed tree-bark like outer coatings. So high they had climbed to the tops of the Dogwood trees and fir trees, so lush that they had their own flowers and berries. There were species of bees zooming around that I had never seen before. They were huge with points on their ends that looked sharp enough to drill holes in the ground. Scary. The weeds were so overpowering that I couldn't tell what was weed and what was normal plant. I probably yanked out equal parts normal plant to weed.

But, as a whole I conquered the yard. I conquered the mower that kept sputtering out. I did not conquer gasoline pouring, though, as it triumphantly spilled all over my hands and sunglasses. I also received so many mosquito bites on my legs that you couldn't see my skin. It was all welts...huge, nasty welts that from afar looked like some serious spider veins. But, hey, the yard looks great!

Now onto more appetizing subjects. Lunch spots. Here are the remaining nine.

10. Parkway Deli & Restaurant (Silver Spring, Md.) – a hidden gem in the Rosemary Hills neighborhood of Silver Spring, this New York style deli has an impressive dessert, cheese, spreads, and hot foods case, in addition to a decent wine and beer selection. Customers can shop in the front of the store for these items and place a carry-out order or sit in their main dining room to take advantage of the free pickle bar and delicious coleslaw. I first discovered it while lifeguarding at nearby Rock Creek Pool when I was a wee, fuzzy-eyebrowed, 15-year-old. I ordered some chicken tenders and fell in love. I’ve heard that their brunch is amazing, but have yet to try it. Their sandwich selection contains a good variety with categories for king-sized, triple-decker, and other specialties. Their fries (quite possibly beer battered) are succulent. The menu also contains traditional Jewish fare such as potato pancakes, blintzes, and knishes. My favorite? The Grilled Turkey and Brie sandwich. Served hot on buttered slices of sourdough bread, the carved turkey breast is smothered in melted brie cheese and a sweet and sour cranberry sauce.

11. Taylor Gourmet (DC) – a discovery while working in Union Station area, this deli prides itself in the freshly baked bread imported daily from Philly. Gourmet it certainly is, with an Italian flare in its hoagies and market goods. The rolls have the perfect amount of crusty crunch on the outside and soft buttery flesh on the inside. Their menu? While the hoagies take the spotlight, the place also has a great selection of Italian wines and artisan beers, as well as pastas, sauces, oils and vinegars. Their risotto balls are creamy, spicy, and crunchy and the best when drowned in their homemade marinara sauce. The secret to their great sandwiches? The extra sharp provolone cheese and refusal to dress the sandwiches in anything but oil and vinegar. My favorite? The Philadelphia Landfill. Consisting of the signature home-roasted carved turkey, roasted ham, Genoa salami, roasted red peppers, provolone, lettuce, tomato, onion and oil/vinegar, this sandwich effuses love. Good news to Maryland folks, Taylor is opening a new location this summer in downtown Bethesda.

12. Breadline (DC) – located over in the Farragut West area of DC, this place specializes in making everything from scratch (all the way down to its condiments!) and its incorporation of seasonal produce into menu items. Their freshly-baked bread is some of the best I’ve had, but their ever-changing menu with daily chef features is what entices me the most. Their baked goods are pretty good, too. My favorite? A staple on their menu—the curried chicken salad. Perfectly seasoned with the right balance of chicken to raisins and other additions make the last bite an ever-so-sad moment.

13. Wagshal’s Delicatessen (DC) – to my knowledge, there are only a couple of these delis in the Northwest DC area, but the one I will talk about is near American University. Their bagels rank up there with some of the better spots. But their sandwich menu is what gets me. Like Parkway Deli, this place has a market of freshly prepared goods, salads, spreads, cheeses, and the like that you can browse while waiting for your food. And yes, this place also has a fantastic case of desserts strategically on display by the payment counter. My favorite? A little on the boring side when you compare it to the other menu options, but sometimes simplicity is all it takes to put a grin on my face. This sandwich is called “Mikey’s Special,” and it comes with smoked turkey, muenster, oil and vinegar, lettuce, tomato, and sweet peppers. Perfecto.

14. Juice Joint (DC) – a little more on the pricey range of things, this McPherson Square spot specializes in fresh, all natural ingredients. While the menu has a number of tasty regular items, there are also daily specials. Their smoothies are healthy with no added sugars and contain interesting combinations of fruits and juices. Their vegetarian chili has many layers of flavor and is a great fill-me-up meal. Grilled salmon in a salad or a wrap with mango salsa is another good option. I’ve heard many a good thing about their stir frys and have enjoyed their mushroom quesadilla with goat cheese. My favorite? A Down Under smoothie (apple juice, bananas, strawberries, and kiwis) with the Fresh Mozzarella and Roasted Veggie sandwich. This sandwich is humble in appearance, but it takes me away to a happy place when I bite into the soft bread drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette and sink my teeth into the plump buffalo mozzarella and flavor-packed veggies.

15. Spice Express (DC) – another McPherson Square option, Spice Express is one of the rarer fast-casual Indian spots. While I love Indian restaurants and their lunch buffets, I don’t always have that kind of time to spend during the work day. And buffets are dangerous…for me at least. Spice Express can also be pricey, but it’s quick, tasty, and comforting. The typical lunch special involves rice and two curries. I have tried their chicken masala with a side of palak paneer which was delish. I paid a little extra for some naan to mop up the extra sauce. My favorite? Vegetable biryani. Very simple, but complex with the number of veggies scattered about. Portion size was huge, and their cooling yogurt sauce drizzled on top made the food sing in my mouth. Or maybe it was just me humming in content.

16. Greek Deli & Catering (DC) – It’s probably bad that I am putting a place on this list that I have yet to go to. But seeing as there are always long lines to get in (the reason why I haven’t gone there) leads me to assume that it is worth the wait (except that clearly, in my case, I’m too impatient). One of these days, though, I will plan to get there early enough. I have heard nothing but rave reviews. And if Washington Post Food Critic Tom Siestema had good things to say about it, then I’m sold. As I browse their menu, I think what sticks out the most is their Famous Gyro. It’s famous! How can it not be good!

17. Maoz (DC) – located in Mid-Town DC near Ozio, this place mimics the Amsterdam Falafelshop in Adams Morgan, but falls a little short. That is not a bad thing, though, since falling short to AFS is like comparing PCs to Macs. PCs still get you to where you need to go, they’re just not as snazzy as Macs. And in the case of Maoz, it takes me to where I need to go—the state of full and satisfied. The concept here is to order a small or large falafel, add however many sides (eggplant, egg, feta, hummus, babaganoush, etc.) and then take your pita to town at the fixins bar. There you will find an array of sauces (garlic mayo, yogurt, tahini sauce, etc.) and a ridiculous amount of toppings (or stuffings). My favorite? A junior falafel pita (three falafels) with hummus, babaganoush, feta, tomatoes/onions, tahini, yogurt, and whatever other fixins meet my needs at the moment.

18. Good Stuff Eatery (DC) – a great burger joint on Capitol Hill, this place has me swooning. Started by Top Chef Season Four Contender Spike Mendelsohn, this place oozes goodness. From its hand cut fries seasoned with sea salt and rosemary, to the inventive milkshake options, to the creatively-crafted burgers, there is nothing bad to say about Good Stuff. To top it off, the different flavored mayos make dipping fries more enjoyable. Averse to ground beef? Substitute chicken breast instead, or just order one of the salad wedges. My favorite? The Colleti’s Smokehouse. I hold the bacon on this (a sin, I know) but have had it in its ground beef and chicken version. What makes this burger special to me is the rich barbecue sauce and salty, crunchy onion ring on top, and the ooze of the sharp Vermont Cheddar cheese on the buttery Pennsylvania Dutch bun. I slop this one down with a classic vanilla milkshake and slowly slip into a coma. I will note that I have yet to try the Prez Obama Burger (bacon, onion marmalade, Roquefort cheese, and horseradish sauce) and presume that my current favorite will have to settle for second place.

Time to eat up!

Heaven with a Crumb Topping

2010-08-01T21:45:00.010-04:00

That Usher song "OMG" has a whole new meaning to me now. Yeah, I was supposed to make pulled pork today. Yeah, I slept in again instead of getting things prepped and in the oven early enough in the day. But, whatever, I found something that seems way more OMG worthy.

I sold out and decided to bake yet another cobbler. This time, though, I improvised. I headed to the grocery with the intention of picking a combination of whatever fruits were ripest. The winners were this silky, red, fragrant Red Comice Pears. I hadn't ever seen bright red pears before, but since they were super ripe to the touch, I figured I'd whisk them away to their sugary doom. I then grabbed a few Granny Smith apples to add a punch of tartness to balance out the heavenly sweetness of the red beauties. Success!

One good find, for me at least, was with this shiny metal tool above. I was looking for a sharp peeler to use on the Granny Smith apples and instead settled with this nearly 40-year-old tool of my mom's that she has used over the years to peel carrots and the like. I started using the point to start a tear in the peel so I could scrape the skin off better with ease. Turns out that sneaky bastard is also a corer! Just push, twist and remove. Viola!

Much like the other cobbler recipes I use, this one called for sugar, flour, lemon zest and lemon juice. The only difference this time was adding a teaspoon of cinnamon and a half teaspoon of nutmeg. Sounds like the makings of a classic apple pie.

Looking good!

Steamy! Sexy! Look at that!

This was something special, this was just like dynamite. And I want it all, it all, it allllll! I mean like, ooh myy gosh i'm soo in love, I found you finallyy, it make me want to say oh, oh , oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh--Oohh myy gosh!

DC Area Lunch Eats - Part One

2010-07-30T15:25:00.007-04:00

I get excited when thinking about some of my favorite spots to eat. As I think about it now, though, it's a lot easier for me to single out lunch places than dinner places. Why is that? It's almost bothersome. Every year when my birthday hits (which is dangerously soon now), I agonize over making the decision on where to eat with my family and friends for dinner. There's an abundance of tasty spots, but for some reason, none stick out at the moment, which is why decision making at that time is hard.

Here's where I've been for the past few birthdays:

Filomena, Bodega Spanish Tapas and Lounge, Indique Heights, Zaytinya, Ceviche, Mai Thai, Sorriso, PF Changs, Alero, Paper Moon...

Of the places listed above, I enjoyed all of them, and have been back several times to Indique Heights (GREAT buffet lunches) and Zaytinya. I am looking for suggestions, though, for this year's birthday dinner with my family.

Now back to lunch. Since graduating from University of Maryland a mere seven years ago, I have accumulated an expanded list of favorites. I know every food publication and critic known to man have set out lists of restaurant guides based on price, food type, atmosphere, service and more, but mine is simply based on taste, satisfaction and likelihood of return visits. One of the places discussed below is Pret A Manger. I did a little grab-and-go from there today and am nothing but smiles in the aftermath of this spicy falafel wrap.

Having worked in Tyson's Corner, K Street area, Chinatown and Union Station, I have experienced a sampling of food court fare, franchised "fast-casual" joints, Mom-and-Pop spots, vendor carts, and other unique concepts to this region and from other regions of the states. I am also quite familiar with the offerings of the Bethesda and Silver Spring area, so will include some of my best lunch bites in no particular order.

1. New York deli (Vienna, Va.) – this deli bakes its own mini-loaves of soft, pillowy bread that come in wheat, white, or pumpernickel to make the most satisfying and comforting sandwiches. These eats can be hot or cold and have a New York flair to them. Wraps are also available, as are a number of traditionally prepared deli salads and sides. My favorite? It’s a tie between a wheat mini loaf with hot turkey and Swiss (with banana peppers, Dijon, lettuce and tomatoes) or the Guiliani (I need to go back to double-check the name) but as I recall, it involves thousand island, and a couple of juicy meats on that heavenly bread.

2. Main Street Deli (Fairfax, Va.) – Another good find with some of the area’s best bagels, fresh, homemade cream cheeses, a variety of classic deli sandwiches and sides. My friend Sheri introduced it to me and makes me wish I lived in Fairfax so I could go more often. Their lox cream cheese spread is uber-creamy and includes finely chopped scallions. My favorite? The Everything Bagel (drowned in everythings on its exterior) with lox cream cheese.

3. Prêt A Manger (DC, NY) – newly opened at 11th and F Street near Metro Center, this place has won a spot in my will. I had seen them in NYC on many a visit, but never knew what it was, and still continue to pronounce this French phrase as “Prett-Ah-Main-Jerr.” Prêt showcases a refreshing variety of prepared hot and cold sandwiches, soups, salads, and more that boast a high nutritional value and lower calorie count without sacrificing flavor. My favorite? The spicy falafel wrap. This warm bundle of joy has five little falafel balls, coated in a spicy tomato sauce and enveloped by roasted red peppers, melted feta cheese, and a cooling yogurt sauce. Masterfully executed.

4. Teaism (DC) – thinking this place was solely a tea house, I was pleasantly surprised on a recent trip with coworkers that revealed a cute dining area and vastly enticing, Asian-inspired menu. There’s something for everyone there, as most of you know, from breakfast items like chicken sausage, naan and raita, to homemade desserts like carrot cake scones, to their famous lunch bento boxes and entrees. My favorite? The palak paneer with its generous portion of brown rice and cooling yogurt sauce that complement the creamy and delectably chewy spinach curry with cheese.

5. Pedro and Vinny’s Burrito Cart (DC) – a great find while working in McPherson Square, this vendor cart features the burrito creations of a former DC executive chef. Tired of the thankless grind, John Rider took things into his own hands and launched “Pedro and Vinny’s.” Having talked to him on several occasions, I learned that he rises each morning around 3:00am to make the burrito’s fresh contents—black beans seasoned perfectly with a hint of cinnamon, salsa, Mexican rice, guacamole, refried beans, and of course, his “Goose Sauce” creation (a mango-habanero hot sauce). He has a variety of tortilla flavors, cheese, and likely 50 other hot sauces on display and ready to be added to the burrito mix. He drives in daily from Northern, Va. to get to the city early enough to park and set up his shop that opens daily from 11:00am-2:00pm (or until he runs out of ingredients). I could go on and on about this man, but I know he makes upwards of six-figures in this gig selling his $5 burritos. My favorite? Medium burrito, no cheese, tomato-chili tortilla, black beans, salsa, rice, Goose sauce, and Georgia peach hot sauce (a peach and Vidalia onion hot sauce).

6. Naan and Beyond (DC) – after my first taste of Indian food back in 2006 and absolutely loving it, I discovered Naan and Beyond in Farragut North. They have a variety of naan sandwiches, rice (biryani) dishes with meat tikkas, vegetables, samosas, chutneys and naan—all cooked in the Tandoori oven (aside from the rice…can’t quite kabob that). What makes this place stand out is its fast-casual nature, different layers of flavor in each dish and the complexity to their seemingly basic chutneys. My favorite? A side of veggie biryani topped with juicy chicken tikka and drizzled with mango chutney. Oh and add to that a veggie samosa…this fried goodness has a blistered, crunchy exterior that protects the smooth potatoes and peas mixed with traditional Indian spices.

7. Ali Baba’s Falafel (Bethesda, Md.) – this big food truck parks itself regularly at the Bethesda Women’s Co-op Farmer’s Market in downtown Bethesda. I had noticed it several months, maybe even years, before I gave it a try. The origins of this cart mimic that of Pedro and Vinny’s burrito cart. The owner/operator sold his antique business for this falafel truck. While the name suggests that it only offers falafel, it also has standard grilled fare like burgers, and lamb and beef gyros. My favorite? The small falafel sandwich with everything on it…cabbage/slaw, tahini sauce, warm crusty falafel balls, banana peppers, and tomatoes.

8. Jungle Grille (College Park, Md.) – a frequent go-to spot during the college years, this casual restaurant offers a fresh, healthy spot for college-goers and beyond. Their frozen yogurt case and milkshakes with fruit are divine. Their peanut butter cookies are (insert high pitched voice) THE best. Their sandwiches and jungle salads with juicy grilled chicken breasts are beyond satisfying. I miss this place. My favorite? The jungle grille sandwich on hoagie bread with chopped grilled chicken, grilled veggies, melted provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, and slathered in their signature honey mustard dressing. I choose to wash that down with one of these: a peanut butter cookie, a vanilla milkshake, a chocolate banana milkshake, or coffee oreo frozen yogurt.

9. Chicken Rico (Greenbelt, Md.) – my first experience with pollo a la brasa, aka Peruvian chicken, was courtesy of my friend Julie. This is one of those places in a strip mall that most people would normally overlook. The menu includes white and dark meat chicken that can be ordered in a variety of portions with crispy browned skin on and bones in to add even more flavor to the already perfect meat. Side dishes include plantains, rice, beans, and other traditional concoctions. You haven’t had good, succulent chicken until you’ve had pollo a la brasa. My favorite? A quarter dark chicken with a side of rice and red beans (mixed together) and topped with this mysterious white sauce they serve in cuppins (my invented word for those little condiment cups found near condiment stations at a variety of food establishments). Make sure to bring a smoker-friend with you if you go cuz you’ll definitely need a smoke afterwards!

I have another nine lunch spots to chronicle and plan to discuss those tomorrow.

An old fashioned Mexican cobble-off

2010-07-29T11:15:00.009-04:00

It's nearly August at this point and after having proclaimed a vow to make a variety of different fruit cobblers nearly two months ago, I decided to give a little update. The following have been checked off the list, some more permanently than others, and appear in order of preference.

1. peach blueberry
2. strawberry peach
3. strawberry rhubarb
4. blackberry
5. peach, apple, blueberry
6. blueberry cake
7. raspberry, blueberry, strawberry

I still have a long way to go, but after encountering my new favorite chef, The Pioneer Woman, I have a new angle to explore in the world of cobbler-making. My friend Julie introduced me to her blog and I have been in awe ever since. Her blog website is an amazing work of art and the camera she uses to take pictures of every intricately important step of the cooking process is state of the art. The cooking aspect indexes the recipes visually--genious idea. I've logged many hours scrolling through the thumbnails with an intense longing in my eyes. I aspire to be this woman. She has a family, a hungry husband, and a funny aversion to leaving her farm compound. Her diction and writing style crack me up and bring enjoyment to the basics of food preparation.

One particular post of hers about blackberry cobbler hit a sweet spot in my heart. She did two versions of this cobbler--one more cake like and one more traditional with crumbles baked on top. I have been making all of mine with the same crumbly top, but the pictures of the cake-like one demanded I give that version a try. I have never been a big fan of blackberries, either, because I've never been lucky enough to eat a sweet one--they've always been miserably sour.

This past weekend, I decided I should do a cobble-off with my friend Sheri. She's been my loyal partner-in-crime the past month or so with helping me assemble and sample (tough job) many different cobblers. And this time, since she had raved once about a yellow cake cobbler with peaches that she used to eat as a kid, I decided it was time to try that, too.

Thus begins our Mexican stand-off, err cobble-off. For the title of Best Cobbler, our competitors stand poised and ready. In the left corner, we have the overtly narcissistic Self-Rising Flour (SRF). Poised and ready, this grain prides itself in itself. Baking soda? No need. Eggs? Puhlease. And in the right corner, we have Betty Crocker sponsored Super Moist Yellow Cake (SMYC) mix. Bred from the storied Crocker family, this flashier mix boasts a warm, sunny color and the allure and promise of rich chocolate icing on its brazen uniform.

Well let's see how they match up. SRF's recipe was simple: just add sugar, butter, milk and top with blackberries. SMYC's recipe was simple, too, but involved oil, water and a few eggs for an extra boost.

After piling the blackberries on SRF, the blueberries were scattered onto SMYC. Pretty, aren't they? Let's take a closer look, especially at the sugar dust on top.

And now for the fight! SRF required a half hour longer to bake, so we got our first look at how SMYC turned out. OOoooohh....butter face. Can we put a brown bag over that?

Soon thereafter, SRF made it's grand exit from the oven...the last cobbler standing. Look at that beauty! Brings tears to my eyes. Perfectly cobbled. Blackberry goodness oozing from the cracks.

And now for the taste test! So far, SRF has SMYC beat by a landslide on appearance. I mean, come on. Would you want to be seen in public with SMYC? I didn't think so.

And the title goes to...SRF! The blackberries were perfectly roasted, their juices perfuming the kitchen and melting my taste buds into oblivion. Next time, however, Sheri and I will try to make her yellow cake cobbler by following an actual recipe rather than make it up as we go since I don't think it turned out the way it should have.

I am sad to report that Vanilla Ice Cream (VIC), upon hearing that two cobblers were to be baked in one sitting, mysteriously disappeared from Sheri's freezer before we had a chance to pin it down. Smart, VIC, very smart. You wouldn't have stood a chance.

Cold food is sensational

2010-07-28T11:45:00.001-04:00

I never took chemistry in high school beyond the basic requirement. I was more of a physics and biology girl. And now that I am following my vocation as a food hound, I wish I had explored the realm of chemistry more extensively.

The "why" behind the human pallete and cooking is intriguing to me. A TV show on the Food Network once learned me that most of our taste buds lie in our noses, not on our tongue. Fascinating. It seems almost intuitive, though. When we have a stuffy nose, we can't taste our food as well. As a child, I would pinch my nose closed when drinking or eating something that was outrageously disgusting at the time. Perhaps this is why consuming hot foods blurs the senses more than refrigerator-cold leftovers because the steam and head dominate the senses moreso than the flavors of the food. At least in my case, eating hot foods doesn't give me the same pungent experience as when I munch on something cold (or room temperature for that matter). While eating steaming fresh corn on the cob is one of life's most simple pleasures, I think eating it cold is slightly better. I can taste the natural sugars in the corn as each little kernel bursts. It just seems more...awake than it does when it's steaming. Albeit, I'm more awake when the steaming corn scalds my gums and the roof of my mouth, but I don't need to be any more freakishly-alert than I already am when I'm eating.

From a chemistry perspective, I will hazard some guesses as to what's going on here. When food is cooked, a lot of the goings on (my fancy way of saying "cells") of the food itself are broken down. The heat alters the chemical makeup of the food. As far as taste goes, it is sometimes intensified and sometimes dulled. Take cheese, for example. A raw chunk of cheddar has much more of a bite than the melted version. As I absolutely love both versions, I am thinking of testing the taste of a chunk of cheddar cheese coated in melted cheese. Is that wrong? If it is, I don't want to be right. Cold pizza? Another true winner.

I will say that cooking is good for marrying a variety of ingredients and creating magical aromas in the kitchen, but I most appreciate it for the textures it chemically creates. As I finish writing this, I am mentally preparing to go heat up some leftover mac and cheese. This goes against my preference of cold leftovers over hot. But today I am more concerned with experiencing the creamy texture of the cheese rather than relishing the taste. The ear of corn will stay cold and be eaten in all it's cold, sensational glory. Yum.

Anniversary Planning

2010-07-27T14:15:00.001-04:00

As my love life remains in a constant state of flux, I haven't had to worry about any upcoming landmark anniversaries. Whether that's a good thing is debatable. Instead, the most common anniversaries to which I have grown accustomed are the number of months at a job, the date of my layoff, and of course the anniversary of my renewed commitment to lose weight (which is a monthly occurrence).

The next looming anniversary is of my swan dive into blogger-hood. August 14 marks the one-year anniversary of the launch of this blog and my first-ever post. In preparation of this most spectacularly-ordinary day, I decided to give Infinite Appetite a much needed face lift. Despite having only the most rudimentary photo editing tools and rigid template options at my disposal, I was able to tighten things up a bit. More tweaks, slices, and dices to come soon...

Testing My Patience

2010-07-22T13:26:00.006-04:00

Last weekend, I was running through the grocery to grab the items necessary to make a quick and healthy eggplant parmesan and noticed a throng of bright red rhubarb hanging out in the produce section. Hooah! I grabbed a bunch and threw a couple pints of strawberries into my basket and headed homeward for some therapy cooking. The eggplant dish turned out AMAZINGLY scrumptious, but the second go-around at strawberry rhubarb cobbler was a buzz kill. My failure to slice the thicker stalks of rhubarb into fine pieces yielded challengingly-crunchy chunks scattered about the dish. There was an excess of sugary fluid this time as well. Big time bummer.

In my attempt to give cobblers the cold shoulder this weekend, I will set my eyes on a new challenge--slow roasting a pork shoulder to make some mouth-watering pulled pork sandwiches. Slow roasting isn't much of a challenge, but refraining from opening the oven every ten minutes to see if progress has been made will be a Mount Everest climb. Yes, I'm one of those people. I guess I should start using the oven light more often instead. You should see how good I am at watching pots of water come to boil. I haven't picked out a particular rub recipe yet, but I already have some ideas of my own. The cooking part of this venture should take at least four hours, if not more.

My biggest fear is that my hours of patience will not guarantee an awesome end product. In fact, it could very well bum me out again. What if I overcook it? What if it's dry? What if it's undercooked and I get rabies? Sigh. I can't wait to find out.

Turning Good Food into Bad Food

2010-07-08T12:44:00.009-04:00

I have been working out more over the past few months in an attempt to get back to the shape I never quite appreciated in my youthful twenties. After having mixed in cardio weight training and full body workouts with the occassional run, I have yet to see results. I am eating more, yes, and probably look a little more put together than I have, but still not pleased that most of my wardrobe sits on the bench waiting to get called into the game. It's a dangerous game, though, and I am still too afraid to take the gamble on wearing a snugger skirt or pair of pants for fear they might split during the workday. And if they don't split, they'd surely leave imprints of the button, brand name and all, on my skin.

Instead, I'm reluctantly trying to modify my eating habits (no more hot dogs for breakfast!) in the hopes that I can salvage my attire. Upon researching some healthier alternatives to comfortable recipes, I came across this healthy, non-fried version of eggplant parmesan (one of my all-time favorite dishes!). It looked rather bland to me, but I'm sure with the right amount of spice, it would be bearable.

EASY BAKED LOW CALORIE EGGPLANT PARMESAN
1 eggplant
diced canned tomatoes in water
extra virgin olive oil
low fat mozzarella cheese
grated or diced garlic
salt and pepper

Add garlic, oil, and salt and pepper to the diced tomatoes. Slice eggplant into 1/4 inch slices, or as thinly as possible. Place first layer of eggplant into baking dish. Place a layer of diced tomatoes and top with sliced mozzarella cheese. Continue layering eggplant, sauce and mozzarella until you have 2 or 3 layers. Bake in a 350°F oven for 30-40min or until cooked through. Top with grated Parmesan cheese, if desired.

And that's when I thought I had found the man of my dreams. Scrolling to the end of the recipe I found one lone comment.

Reviews and Comments (1)
Apr 7, 10:51 PM
Carl (in California) said:
Mmmm good! Embellished mine with pepperoni.

Be still my heart! And waistline! Then I snapped out of my pepperoni haze. I wanted to slap him. Of course it's good when you add bad food to it! Bad, Carl! BAD! I'm mad at him for throwing temptation my way.

Hey, Carl, you should try this salad I absolutely love--mixed greens, tomatoes, bell peppers, light honey mustard dressing, and a sliced hard-boiled egg. Oh, and for an extra punch, don't forget to top the salad with chicken wings, a fried sausage, and a sprinkling of nachos. Just thought I'd embellish it a little.

Capture of the ever-elusive rhubarb

2010-06-24T11:50:00.010-04:00

My cobbler-making obsession is still alive and well. Last weekend, Sheri and I embarked on a small errand that turned into a rewarding journey. It was time to branch out from the easy, yet tasty, peach blueberry cobbler effort and on to something a little more challenging. From the list of cobbler must-makes, we chose the strawberry rhubarb one. After selecting a marvelous recipe from Emeril, I offered to pick up the fruit since Sheri was going to supply everything else. Easy enough, right? All I needed was strawberries, rhubarb, and an orange. At the Safeway in Silver Spring, I succeeded in finding strawberries and an orange, but wasn't sure they had rhubarb. I had never purchased rhubarb before and wasn't sure if it was sold with the leaves on the stalks. After I grabbed some rainbow swiss chard, thinking it was rhubarb, I decided to ask the produce man whether it was indeed rhubarb. Nope. I had read on Wikipedia that the leaves were poisonous, so it would make sense that rhubarb was just sold in stalk form. Alas. On to Whole Foods. No rhubarb. Talk about dissappointment.

After going home empty handed, I broke the news to Sheri that rhubarb was not to be found in my neighborhood. The next day at work (Friday) I decided to call some stores near her house before wasting the time traveling in traffic for what could turn out to be a fruitless effort. (I hate puns, but this one's intended). At last, the Wegman's in Fairax said they carried it! We drove straight there after work from DC hoping that traffic on 66 would have mercy on us. It did. And when we got to Wegman's, I bee-lined for the last remaining stalks of rhubarb. Albeit it was a bit shriveled and a tad slimy on some ends, it was pure beauty in my eyes. After I finished rubber necking at the glory that is Wegman's, we headed back to Sheri's place to make us some cobbler.

The rhubarb was interesting. I had never tasted or smelled it before. It sliced up just like celery, and was equally as pungent. I didn't try any raw since I had heard it was quite sour. The recipe called for orange zest, Grand Marnier, sugar, and equal parts strawberry and rhubarb. The crumble portion was the ole faithful combo of flour, white and brown sugar, a pinch of salt and some cinnamon.

Once everything was ready to go, we placed it in the oven and began the waiting game. The aromas wafting from the oven midway through the baking process were unreal. And the taste of the warm cobbler with a cold dollop of creamy vanilla ice cream was unbelievably satisfying. The sourness of the rhubarb was the perfect complement to the succulently sweet strawberries.

As they say, a picture speaks a thousand words, so what follows is my pictorial tale of the strawberry rhubarb cobbler extraordinaire.

The secret life of socks, tupperware lids, and hair bands

2010-06-23T14:07:00.011-04:00

For as long as I can remember, I have always been intrigued by the mysterious disappearances of life's seemingly unessential items. They only become essential with their unexplained absence. Yes...I'm talking about socks, tupperware lids and hair bands.

Socks aren't essential for everyday living. Especially during the summer months. Tupperware lids are only useful when transporting leftovers comes into play. Hair bands usually only affect women, or men with longer hair. But when there's a shortage or missing half of these items, it becomes a problem. A big problem.

Despite the countless number of times that I have laundered my clothes, it still irks me beyond belief when it's all said and done and I have a basket full of orphaned socks. It doesn't matter when it's a plain white sock. But you can't wear an orphaned argyle sock! You can't mix and match black, blue or grey ones either. The question that comes to mind is, where did they all go? Did they get sucked into the black abyss of the washing machine holes? Did they get swallowed into the dryer vent? Or did they simply just walk away? Sometimes they can be sneaky and slither down the space between the machines and the wall. Maybe it's time to install a video camera in the basement.

Earlier this year, I cut down significantly on the number of socks sacrificed during the laundry ritual by not washing them with sheets and towels. Many a time I would change the sheets on my bed to find an orphan sock hanging out in the fitted sheet. No more. Once, I wore a pair of jeans all day before noticing a suspicious bulge behind my knee cap. The cold sweats started and my mind raced, wondering the reasons why my knee was so swollen and unsightly. A quick trip to the bathroom to check revealed a balled up red Christmas sock stuck in the leg of my jeans. Phew.

Just this morning, I was searching for some tupperware in which to transport my lunch only to discover that we had a plethora of containers with no lids. And, the lids we had did not fit on any of the existing containers. How? Explanation, please! When did these guys get legs? Did they melt during the dishwashing phase? It makes me angry just thinking about it. What use do I have for a tupperware container with no lid? How am I going to transport my leftover soup in a topless container? What do I do now, throw out the existing containers and buy a whole new set? Please tell me they sell just plain lids somewhere.

Now on to my favorite disappearing act. It's my favorite because it bothers me the least and is the cheapest to replace. Hair bands. I think these are the easiest to displace because one can remove hair bands in an infinite amount of places. The shower, the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room, other peoples houses, offices, metro trains, cars...you get the idea. But why am I so careless that I lose them every week? As I type right now, I am staring at a rogue hair band on my desk, wondering how it got there since I have my hair tied up at the moment in a different one. Maybe it's just reserves for when I lose the one I have on now. Sigh.

If someone could solve the life mystery of the disappearing socks and tupperware lids, I might sleep better at night. I know there must be other items I am forgetting that seem to walk away just as easily. Writing utensils are surely one of them. But those are not as exciting to talk about because they're in abundance everywhere. What person at work has a pen holder with one lone pen sitting in it? Prove me wrong and I'll loan you one of my 30.

I remember back a year or so ago, the crazy lady from my lobbying job asked me to order pens for each employee and label them so that we wouldn't run out of pens so quickly. She blamed all of us for losing track of our pens. One day I was in her office looking for a highlighter and as I opened her desk drawer, I was blinded by the lights of heaven. I had never seen so many pens, of so many different colors, sizes, lengths, and designs in my life. Pen nabber found. Too bad she was too senile to realize she was the hoarder.

Just like that hidden oasis of pens, sometimes I tell myself that there must be a secret spot in my house where a crush of estranged hair bands, orphaned socks, and lonely lids all hang out. They drink to their new-found freedom. They celebrate the severing of ties with their other half. They laugh at the anguish they continue to cause me.

But while that remains a pigment of my imagination, I need to face reality and come up with a solution. There's got to be an answer to these vexing questions. I wouldn't care as much if I would just find a sock or lid every once in a while. I never do. They've got to be somewhere. I'm thinking I should write to the companies where I buy socks and ask them to start selling them in threes. That way, you lose one, there's no orphan and everyone's happy. You lose two, well then we can hope that two got lost together and will be soon found together. If you lose all three, well then you've got a problem. Or, perhaps we can just blame it all on that monster living in the laundry room. He/She needs to be captured and punished for the mental duress caused.

Scratch That

2010-06-15T13:53:00.006-04:00

Each morning as I commute to Chinatown on Metro's Red Line, I am one of the few people not plugged into an iPod or buried in the news blurbs of the Express. When I'm not ripping my hair out and cussing in a tourrettes-esque manner at the absurdity that is DC's 21st century transit system, I usually just sit there gazing out the window at the last bits of blue sky and greenery I will see for the next several hours. And when I'm not gazing at the great outdoors, I'm gazing at the zoo of people boarding and de-boarding the train.

This particular morning, I should've brought my falconry glove. I noticed a gentleman in his early 70s wearing sandals at the far end of the car. Double-take, what?! He had talons on his feet! No wonder he's wearing sandals...so the talons could hang over the edges comfortably! No way those hooked scratchers are fitting into shoes. If only I could've snapped a picture of them. Good thing I had some downtime at work to draw them instead.

Oh Cobbler, I crumble for thee

2010-06-08T12:02:00.006-04:00

I have a new obsession. I never saw it coming, either. Fruit cobblers? Fruit cobblers!

Now that summer is underway, our favorite fruits of the season have started creeping their way back into grocery stores and farmer's markets. I like fruit, but have never longed for it like I long for most other food items, (Hello, cheese! HELLO, pepperoni!). While I welcome the perfumed aroma of ripe peaches and nectarines, and savor the sweetness of freshly-picked strawberries during a routine visit to the grocery, I now make a bee-line to the produce section with many a glimmer in my eyes. Oh, do I have a plan for you, fruit. In my head swim visions of warm, sweet, juicy slices under a crispy mound of sugary flour topping. Oh, and did I mention the melting scoop of vanilla ice cream on top? No, I did not. I will mention it now. A warm bowlful of steaming hot, fresh fruit and crispy topping, diffused by a melting, creamy scoop of vanilla ice cream. Heaven.

So far since May, I have made four cobblers. The first three were from the same recipe. An Ina Garten food network recipe for peach blueberry crumble. You can't go wrong with this recipe. Instead of using individual ramekins for the crumbles, I put it all in one square casserole dish. And, instead of using fresh fruit, I opted to save a little dough and use frozen. That took some finessing, because my impatience to let the fruit thaw initially resulted in a soupier crumble. And, the fruit never quite softened enough. The second time around, it was perfection. This weekend, I improvised on the fruit and topping by using a couple apples, a couple fresh peaches, blueberries, and a doughier topping. Not bad.

I also learned, during the process that a cobbler is not a crisp, nor is it a crumble. They're all different. But, for these purposes, I will refer to all of my work as cobblers.

Now begins my mission to make as many different fruit cobblers as I can before the summer fizzles out. And in no particular order, here goes...

1. ginger peach
2. peach mango
3. rhubarb apple
4. blueberry nectarine
5. blueberry, raspberry, strawberry
6. blackberry
7. bourbon peach
8. cherry
9. peach raspberry
10. apple cranberry
11. strawberry rhubarb
12. cranberry pear
13. nectarine
14. apple
15. cherry apricot
16. peach blackberry
17. apple, pear, strawberry, potato
18. pear
19. rhubarb peach
20. pineapple
21. pineapple banana
22. plum raspberry
23. apple blueberry

And, maybe when summer season ends, I will embark on a new mission to create some savory cobblers. Pork apple, anyone?

Would you like some chicken salad with that mayonnaise?

2010-05-18T13:16:00.005-04:00

Yet again, I've broken my committment to bring lunch from home in my desperate efforts to save money. I especially try hardest to do so on cold, rainy days. Not today.

The only things I could've brought for lunch were guacamole and plain bread. After having walked around Chinatown a few times in the past week to scope out lunch options, I decided today to head to old faithful--Subway. It's not only the cheapest buy for me, but also the one with the healthiest potential. Most of the other sandwich places in the area are at least double the price and double the calories for not necessarily double the pleasure.

As I approached the Subway at 9th and E street, I noticed a sign out front marketing the restaurant's latest "limited edition" sandwich. The Orchard Chicken Salad sandwich. I was intrigued. Cubes of plump, white chicken breast, golden raisins, celery, apple chunks and light mayo. Wow, light mayo?! Go Subway! I was still skeptical, though. Anything with mayo usually means a chunk of extra fat and calories. Subway's tuna salad is one of my guiltiest pleasures, but a 6-inch sub has over 500 calories and 20 grams of fat. I had a hunch that the chicken salad would tell a similiar story. As I neared the counter to order, I planned to inspect the roast beef and ham for marbling to determine whether I would order the Subway Club or just plain turkey. Sometimes either the roast beef and/or the ham have too many lines of grissly fat in it for me to consider ordering it. But, when it came time to order, I noticed the Orchard Chicken Salad ad again, staring me in the face. Upon second glance I noticed that the ad boasted only 8 grams of fat! Change of plans.

After I told the man my order, I waited patiently for him to assemble my sandwich. That's when I saw my liquid lunch scooped out of a bin and slopped onto the warm, formerly fluffy, wheat bread. Nooooooooo. That couldn't be! I looked back up at the ad, examined the chicken lightly coated in mayo (light mayo) and then looked back at the ice cream scoop dripping in white goo. FML. My day is ruined.

With dismay, I forked over my $4 and headed back to the office to eat my sandwich with caution. When I took it out of the bag, I noticed they only put on napkin inside. One napkin?! Honey, I'm gonna need rubber gloves, a bib and a towel to help me eat this thing! Not to mention, a shower and a trip to the dry cleaners afterwards.

I was too afraid to open the bread to look at what I was about to eat. I took one bite. OOooooze. Drip. Drip. Plop. I carefully continued eating and tried my best to wring out the extra mayo. No such luck. As expected, it was everywhere, and the consistency was so odd. There were a few bites of goodness in there scattered amongst the storm. But, overall, this was a huge dissappointment. It had such potential! Talk about false advertising. Industrial Mayonnaise Salad would have been more appropriate.

I am tempted to go try the other Subway up at 7th and H at some point when memories of this lunch retreat to the back of my mind with the other nightmaries. Until then, proceed with caution and ignore the glistening ads!

What am I, five?

2010-05-08T03:31:00.003-04:00

The curious case of Benjamin Button has struck me again. As my friends and I start to prepare for the onsets of our 29th birthdays, I am caught between feelings of a geriatric-like haze and a degeneration that only Benny Button would understand.

The transformation started several months ago when I started to notice, with much offense taken, that I was no longer being called "miss" but instead "ma'am." I didn't think my face has weathered that much. How did they know I was close to turning 30? It's the worst among young, doe-eyed wait staff. Somewhere between "And for the lady?" and "What can I get for you, ma'am?" I've started to resent these kids. Who do they think they are? Well at least I am not in college and look like I'm 12. Take that, kid. But those remarks are starting to give me a little dose of self doubt. Am I that creepy almost-30-year-old at the bar hanging with the young twenty-somethings? Am I the weird almost-30-year-old I used to whisper about and glare at while among the aisles of Forever 21 when I was in college? Please, no. I'm not ready for this quite yet.

What's even more perplexing to me these days is the converse of my un-graceful aging in the public eye--my degenerative health. I used to take pride in how unwaveringly strong my health was. One to two colds per year and that was it. It's not like I'm afflicted by elderly health problems like bed sores, cataracts, or loss of bladder control. Thank God. Au contraire, I've had some very unwelcome blasts from the past. In late March, I became the lucky victim of strep throat. Strep throat? Really? I hadn't had that since I was in primary school! (And, do they even call it "primary school" anymore? I feel like I've just dated myself.) If only they prescribed that delicious liquid medicine from back in those days. Not as horrendous as the horse pills they dole out now. My latest ailment? Pink eye. Got damn! What's next? Head lice? Diaper rash? Colic? I already had the chicken pox. Phew.

Thank goodness for CVS Minute Clinic. The nurse there knows me all to well at this point. I wonder if I can get a frequent visitor discount. I can just see it now on the nurses printout after my visit. Take one pill twice a day for ten days. Drink plenty of fluids. Avoid the moon bounce, playgrounds, and story-telling section of Barnes and Noble.

Sigh.

Tex-Mex in DC?

2010-04-27T09:32:00.005-04:00

Up until a few years ago, I was quite enraptured with the Tex-Mex scene in the DC metro area. Then one day, this guy from California came to work at my job and slowly but surely made me re-think what constitutes good Tex-Mex (or just plain Mexican) food. He worked in the closet office next to mine and would talk all day, sometimes spewing radical political comments that made me nervous. But a recurring element of our conversations were about the quality of Tex-Mex. One day, he made the bold statement: There is no good Tex-Mex in this area. Coming from California, he would glow when recounting the bounty of options he had back home. I would counter that, citing Lauriol Plaza or Cactus Cantina. I would defend Guapo's and Rio Grande. I would talk about Rosa Mexicano. Even the burrito man in the vendor cart outside of our building was impressive to me. Still is. But some of the other places I have listed? Not as impressed as I used to be. His subtle attempts to waver my allegiances worked somewhat.

I still tend to pick a place based on the salsa and chips. Very important. The thinner and crispier the chips, the better. And, they must arrive to the table warm. Salsa I am not as picky about, but can recall some awful experiences at places like Chevy's. Guapo's salsa is chunkier, and tastes extremely fresh. Most of the other places blend their salsa into a smooth, easily scoop-able consistency. Another critical item to me is the tortilla. Some places bring freshly baked tortillas to the table for free. The best, in my humble opinion, are the flour ones. Rosa Mexicano's barely pliable, small and flat tortillas would make better coasters than food wrappers. Maybe it's because they use corn instead of flour? Maybe because it seems more gourmet? Not sure, but no thanks. Aside from that, they do have some unique, albeit overpriced, tasty items on their menu. It also seems that the guacamole scene has exploded in recent years. Back in the day, guacamole was just a side condiment to a main entree, and sometimes it didn't make an appearance at all. Now, most places have the added flair of making guacamole table side as an appetizer. Love it.

When I was middle-school aged, my family and I would head to Rio Grande a lot. The home-made tortillas, pillowy and soft, that came fresh out of the oven were addictive. The sights of steam and the sound of sizzling hot metal plates made my mouth water in anticipation of the arriving tray of food. One of the first few times we were there, my dad was in the process of finishing his meal when he took the big hot pepper garnish, thinking it was part of his meal, and bit off everything but the stem, chewed quickly and swallowed. I thought he was going to die. I've never seen someone sweat so much and breathe with such pain and panic. He downed glass of water after glass of water (which we now know only makes it worse) to no avail. The waiters came over, maybe even the manager--some of it was a blur--to come to his aid. I forget how long it took for his red face to regain normal flesh tones, but it seemed like an eternity. If only they had brought him a glass of milk and some bread to neutralize the pepper's heat. If only he had recognized danger before wolfing it down whole.

As Cinco de Mayo approaches, I've started thinking of where to celebrate. I want to try something new. I need to find a new go-to place. My friend Sheri raves about a place called Coyote Grill out in Fairfax. I will have to give that a try. Or maybe I just need to find a new menu item. When I don't pick enchiladas, I choose to fill up on Mexican rice, free flour tortillas and chips/salsa. The majority of the times I have been out for this type of food, I'm underwhelmed by the lack of flavor depth. Bland, bland, go away, come again another day. I want a big, juicy burrito, smothered in cheese, stuffed with a marriage of flavors and textures. I'd like to taste an enchilada with similar attributes.

I guess I shouldn't be so quick to judge the Tex-Mex options in this area. I do have to say, though, that Austin Grill is on my never-again list and Mi Rancho is dangerously close to a good nixing. I need to restore my faith in what used to be my favorite food genre. My love for the margarita has also been spurned. The frozen kind give me freeze headaches and the marg on the rocks seem too syrupy and overwhelmed by an artificial sour mix. Tia Queta in Bethesda does have a decent margarita (and they make theirs extra strong). Not to mention, aside from their abysmal chips and salsa, their chicken mole is fantastic.

I'm officially on the hunt. Time to bring back some love for DC's Tex-Mex food and margaritas. I hope to have some good news soon. But until then, here's my list of acceptable places in ranked order:

Lauriol Plaza
Oyamel
Cactus Cantina
Guapo's
Tortilla Coast

Blown Away

2010-04-25T23:59:00.016-04:00

I flew to Chicago on Thursday afternoon to visit my foodie-in-crime Christine for a long weekend. To mirror the pace of all of my past visits there over the years, we had a plan in place to eat our way through what turned out to be a blustery, very windy city this time around. Thinking we would go for a quick run around Wrigleyville and the lake when I arrived, I was easily swayed to head downtown to take advantage of the beautiful weather. The rest of my time there was slated to be grey and cold. As our bus pulled onto Michigan Ave, I was greeted by a crush of elegant tulips along the sidewalks and in planters. My all-time favorite flower! They looked good enough to eat. Crisp long stems, juicily-colorful blooms in an spray of magnificent colors. Perfection. Farther down Michigan Ave surrounding the old water purification plant (or maybe it was a water pump) were packs and packs of white tulips. I was in heaven. Christine and I continued meandering around that area, grabbed some free chocolate from Ghirardelli and then made a visit to clothing store Zara. Described to me as a more upscale version of H&M with Banana Republic prices, I expected similar apparel. I guess I am way behind the fashion times because most of the stuff in there would never grace the inside of my closet. And, I'm OK with that. Leather shorts with a brown-bag cinch wasteline? Terrible idea. I can imagine the challenges that piece of clothing would present amidst the humidity of DC summers. Brings back memories of that Friends episode where Ross was having difficulty getting his leather pants back on after a bathroom visit. Baby powder and lotion everywhere. *shudder*

But that wasn't the worst of it.

After deciding to check out what goodies Zara had in store for us upstairs, we met the epitome of hideous. Like a slap across the face, there it was. An unsightly mannequin donned a flimsy cotton onesie with a horrific flower pattern. An unfortunate shoulder bag and ill-fitting denim shirt tied at the waist completed the look. We need to take a picture of this, I thought. Then Christine suggested we try to find the outfit on the racks instead. And, that we did. We found her an equally-offensive tube-top onesie in what can only be described as a dog-vomit tan color paired with another questionable flower pattern. Fending off the judgmental stares of fellow shoppers, we took the outfits into the changing rooms. It took me a good five minutes to navigate my piece. There was only one way in and one way out, a lot of ties near the top, elastic cinching at the waist and the pant cuffs. Hot. Success.
The evening was capped off by a four-hour viewing of the latest Twilight movie on DVD, New Moon. The movie only runs a hair over two hours, but it took an additional couple hours to get through the scene where Jacob is walking through the rain shirtless in little cut-off shorts. How can a guy that young be so perfectly cut?! After making it through that scene, we IMDB'd the actor, Taylor Lautner, to search for his birthday. Born in 1992. Wow. The 90s! Eleven years our junior. We're not just cougars....we're creepy cougars. And then we skipped back to the start of that sequence and watched the scene again.

The next day our fellow food lover Sheri arrived and we headed out to the Botanic Gardens. Tulips. Everywhere. I was drunk from the beauty of it all. We traversed the grounds and soaked it all in--Japanese gardens, English-walled gardens, a winding pond, elegant crab-apple trees in bloom--nature at it's peak. Then the pangs of hunger took over. It was time for our long-awaited menage a trough. We turned a dainty lunch of crackers and herbed goat cheese, fresh cut fruit, sensible vegetables, and hummus into a mini-gorgefest. Amidst the natural beauty of well-manicured, picturesque scapes, we shoveled it down with "grace." At one point, Christine was wiping hummus from Sheri's forehead while I rescued a piece of goat cheese from my lap. Once we met our fill of food and gardens, we ventured back to the city via the double-decker Metra train. The rest of the evening was filled with a stop in at the The Purple Pig for a quick happy hour followed by an amazing dinner at Devon Seafood.

Saturday began and ended with fog, bone-chilling winds and fat pants. We kicked off the day with a visit to Ann Sather for some of her succulent sticky buns and other brunch fare. Then we headed back to Christine's apartment where I took a nap in preparation for our afternoon chocolate tour. After checking Sheri into the W hotel (she was in town for work) we headed over to meet up with our tour group. It was a small group of seven led by an overly-energetic tour guide. An actress by day, her exaggerated enthusiasm and joyous facial contortions were very distracting. Then along came the champagne truffle from Teuscher's chocolates of Switzerland. Made with a Dom Perignon cream center, this silky bundle of love was surrounded by a dark chocolate ganache, coated in milk chocolate and sprinkled with confectionner's sugar. It had my undivided attention...until I saw the price tag. ShamWOW. A box of 16 was listed at $41. I'm not sure what would taste better...eating 41 dollars or spending $41 on a box of 16 truffles. Well, we had a long afternoon and evening ahead of us, so I decided not to try either. The remainder of the tour involved a trip to More Cupcakes, a tea place with chocolate-infused teas, and some Belgian place with delicious gelatos and other forms of chocolate. We then blew down to the south part of the city for an italian dinner at Gioco where I punished my stomach with some braised octopus. I had tried grilled octopus before, but this time around, I didn't so much enjoy the sensation of little suction cups on my tongue as I chewed on the tentacle. It was part of a spaghetti dish, so not straight octopus on a plate. But, still. My stomach ain't quite right yet.

But you know what is? My wallet. Aside from forgetting my over-burdened credit card at Devon Seafood on Friday, I did not spend one cent shopping this trip. A feat. Using Groupon's for our dinners helped out as well. I am quite satisfied with the April 2010 edition of the Chitown Eating Tour, aside from the fact that there weren't enough meals in a day to squeeze in some of the city's decadent pizza. But that void was filled by the beauty of Spring sprung throughout the city.

Until next time, Chicago. You owe me some deep dish.

Re-charged, Relieved

2010-04-19T20:59:00.016-04:00

I got back yesterday from a relaxing and mostly sunshine-filled weekend in Melbourne, Florida visiting Julie. I had a blast! The beach was beautiful and calming, the food was great, and the company? Sublime. Julie's condo on the beach was awesome. It boasted a private beach fraught with pretty shells, sand dollars, and blueish-purple man of war jelly fish. And a dead pelican. And that fish from McDonald's Filet-O-Fish commercials. The fish had been washed ashore by the rising tide. Every time I looked at it, it's mouth popped open. I swear I heard a keyboard playing off in the distance. Julie and I tried a couple times to rescue it, and at last successfully got a grip on its slimy skin and tossed it back into the waves.

The next morning, we put together a slammin breakfast with this gigantic sweet red pepper and many breakfast meats, eggs and cheeses. Yummmm. Later, we checked out a restaurant located on the Indian River with the odd name of "Squid Lips." Other highlights from the trip included a visit to Cocoa Village on Saturday that was full of cute little boutique shops and restaurants. There we got a taste of flavored balsamic vinegar from an Olive and Vinegar shop and some gingerbread. In the afternoon, Julie and I made the most delicious red-wine sangria (look at all that fruit!) and nursed it out on the balcony overlooking the ocean amidst the breeze. At that point we spent a good amount of the time trying to figure out which kids belonged to which adults. Yes. Then we took a two-hour stroll along the beach collecting shells and enjoying more of the refreshing ocean breeze.

Fun weekend with a fun friend. It was also great to get away from DC and the woes of unemployment.

But, upon my return things started to fall in place quickly. What a great Monday! I don't think I've said that ever. I had an interview this morning for a five-month job in Chinatown at the American Hospital Association and also found out I have a phone interview with Legg Mason scheduled for Tuesday. My headhunter, who normally only works with direct hire for permanent positions, found the temp job from a client she had been working with already. The job is to fill in for a woman going on maternity leave at the end of May and involves event planning, steady pay that's better than my temp agency's gigs, and other perks. The management supplies fresh fruit to the staff every Tuesday and Thursday, free breakfast on Fridays (and casual dresscode--a perk I have never had at any of my jobs), and free access to a private gym that includes work out classes. The building is beautiful, great views, and houses a staff of about 80.

Well, I got the job! And I celebrated with some frugal work-clothes shopping and a skunky glass of Malbec at home. Good thing I love the taste of vinegar. I am almost 100 percent sure I will commit to the temp gig, which would start May 10, but we'll see what becomes of the other interview tomorrow. LM is in Baltimore, though, which is a deterring factor. While there is always the possibility I could be screwing myself out of a permanent job that comes along during the next five months, the market is still pretty sad, so not likely. And, this temp job could lead me to a permanent job as well. Either way, I am relieved and excited to be almost back on the working horse!

The Good Stuff

2010-04-14T08:45:00.004-04:00

Being jobless has its perks. I don't have to set an alarm at night. I can enjoy the beautiful Spring weather. Hmmm...what else... Yep, that's about it. Most of the time it feels like I'm watching my wallet hemorrhage to death with no end in sight.

But, I have become more appreciative of the free things in life...the good stuff. Flowers in bloom. Napping with my dog. Peace and solitude. And, of course, relishing my not-so-free meals...moreso than ever. When I'm not temping, there's not much to distract me from my favorite pastime. I finish breakfast and seconds thereafter start longing for lunch, or in today's case, a mid-morning snack.

I don't live a particularly lavish lifestyle, but I know I should be cutting back right now. Like only eating out of cans and boxes instead of going out to lunch and dinner. Yet, my old coworker from Satan & Associates, Inc. told me I should be going out to lunch regularly to stay connected to the workforce and for networking purposes. Done.

Today I am headed out to Capitol Hill to meet with another old coworker from the job that laid me off in January 2009. Actually, he and I both were cut on the same day, and unfortunately for him, he has not worked a day since. We are going to Good Stuff Eatery and my stress level is already up a notch because I know decision time is near.

What to get? Definitely a shake. Burger-wise? No idea. Too many solid options. What I do know is that my trainer (and friend, Femi) would not be happy with any decision I make here, unless it was to walk out the door empty handed. The first day we started training, he told me he was going to work on strengthening my core muscles first. As I was telling him that I don't think I have abs anymore, he said, "Hilary, everyone's got a six pack. Some just keep theirs in the fridge."

Well, in my case, the abs are waaaaay back in the fridge. Back with the baking soda and food that has iced over. There's a lot of good stuff on me right now and I'm OK with adding some Good Stuff to my good stuff. Makes me feel good and stuff. You only live once, right? I'd rather die fat and happy than fit and happy. Wait, no. Maybe not.