EcoCulinaire

Waffa and Mike's

2012-01-20T17:01:00.001-05:00

The first few weeks of the New Year have been nuts. Nuts as in crazy. Nuts as in hard, crunchy. Nuts as in fruitful. I began grad school, helped install a garden at Lil' Bit's preschool and got the six classes started on spring crops, and of course the hubbub of everyday life.

Speaking of the mundane, moving to a new city one must always search out a trustworthy mechanic. I began my search inquiring from friends, but no recommendation was to be had. My parents happened to be in town and my mom said "Check out the Car Talk Radio Show website. They have a list."

So I did and the first name on the list A & A Auto Diagnostic Repair on N. Main seemed to have the best reviews so I gave them a call and they told me they could see me in 30 minutes. I set forth to Springfield, an up and coming area of Jacksonville to get an oil change and two light bulbs replaced. Minor issues, make the best starting point to get a feel for a new mechanic.

I found the place, and the owner Mike was warm and friendly. I handed him my keys. He pointed to a glass door and told me that there was a couch in the office where I could wait if I liked. Now I have been to many a mechanic, but this office was special. The couch he spoke of had one beige floral pillow that was propped up cockamamie on the arm, while the other two were firmly in place. The other customer, a man was standing next to the couch texting. I sat down and felt a need to straighten the pillow, but then I took a look around and noticed that the office waiting room was all jacked up with stuff. My mechanic was a hoarder.

He walked in and told me it would be about 30 minutes, and seeing me on the couch he offered "I own the restaurant next door, you are welcome to wait over there. I will tell them to take care of you." I had almost passed the garage upon arrival because I was so distracted by the sign for the restaurant: Waffa and Mike's painted in yellow letters on the giant red cinder-block walls of the building that housed both businesses.

I took him up on it and went next door. Waffa and Mike's Cafe is clean with high ceilings and has the warm smell falafel in the fryer. It was ten a.m and I had a lunch date so I went for 3 for $1 baklava and coffee. I sat down in a large booth with a book and began to read. This cafe at the mechanic's was such a wonderful turn of events, and a brilliant concept mind you.

The baklava was honey sweet and the coffee strong. A man walked in and ordered a wrap of some sort that smelled incredible. Before I knew it an hour passed by. I thought Is there something wrong with my car? Maybe I should go see what is taking so long? I went back to the office and the car was ready and when Mike handed me the bill I was thrilled. An oil change for less than $30 with baklava. Yes.

A New Happy Year

2012-01-01T21:35:00.000-05:00

I took this picture months ago just for today. It is a black eyed pea from our garden at 29 South. It was maybe September when I plucked this pod and weeks later when it had dried I thought...wow.

This is a beautiful plant.

Even the word legume has a certain elegance to it don't you think? A plant with edible seeds. Each seed harboring its own individual potential to grow into a plant, comfortably nestled in a pod with its kin. That is the thing...peas in a pod, when faced with the future, they are in it together.

As a species we all have different resolves, but one thing is for certain...like all species on earth when it comes to our survival, our future, whether we like it or not we are in it together.

Happy New Year!

Luck in Life and Love.

Lighten Up

2011-12-22T14:30:00.000-05:00

We moved to this neighborhood six months ago, knowing that it was a great area of Jacksonville...but little did we know that our choice of street address would land us in a Christmas light spectacular! There is always that one street where folks go all out come the holidays, and during the month of December their neighborhood is full of people cruising by in wonder of the twinkling bulbs, and the power bill.

The opposite side of the street from us happens to be such a dazzling display of electricity...lets just say that this joyful discovery is just one more affirmation that moving off our little island to the big city was a grand idea.

The girls and I go on evening strolls to admire our neighbors' handiwork, and on one such occasion we happened to meet the man with the grid plan. I asked him how it all worked...did he have a generator? He told me in an unexpectedly sheepish manner that he had two computers, one in the garage and one in the closet under the stairs that powered the operation. Angels and candy canes dangling 20 feet up in the air, words projected on the side of the house, giant crosses and evergreens, snow ball fights, sparkling deer, stars, inflatable penguins...this man went all out. In mid-conversation Lil' Bit became suddenly very upset and began to whimper. "Look mommy! Look at Frosty! He is dying!"

"Maybe he is taking a bow?" Our neighbor interrupted my ridiculous response and expertly explained that Frosty was melting and would soon be back upright. Lil' Bit was greatly relieved as he re-inflated and we continued on our walk. I am not a religious person, but I appreciate the homage to light during this dark time of year. Speaking of...Happy Hanukkah!

Hanukkah is a holiday that calls for oil...aka fried food. Chef made jelly donuts the first night of the holiday...the beginning of a barrage of sweets to lighten life during the holidays. This week we received what I call "the holiday diet fucker package." Chef and I always vow to go on a crazy diet between the Thanksgiving feast and the Christmas feast, but inevitably a DF package arrives and ruins our good will. Rum balls, truffles, sugar cookies, peppermint bark...a towering smorgasbord of sinful delights compliments of mom. I know one day I will too send my brood tins full of empty calories, and they will eat them dutifully with great gusto.

The idea that we don't have to indulge over the holidays is poppycock. There is no better way to celebrate the richness of life and the end of a year than with rich delicious food. So my advice to you this last week of December, this first official week of winter is to go for it.

Eat as if you are about to enter hibernation...enjoy all food and libation without guilt or shame. There is no better way to celebrate a year of life well lived. Besides, New Year's is next week...save your resolve of deprivation for next year. Just say screw it and indulge in the now!

Peace

2011-12-18T11:29:00.001-05:00

This morning on the other side of the world at 7:37 am the last US combat troop crossed over the border to Kuwait ending our nine year war in Iraq...officially. My mind returned to the day we began the Shock and Awe campaign. I was at a friend's warehouse studio listening to the reports coming in on the radio when I went to use the restroom and realized that I had unknowingly been wearing my underwear inside out and backwards all day.

I remember three years later after I had moved back to Florida and went to a craft store to buy some art supplies. The war was far from my mind until I walked past the aisle that held the Flag boxes on sale. I stood there and my heart sank. It hit me that unlike previous generations of war, my generation, in this age of petty distraction, could go days or weeks without a thought about our soldiers abroad because as civilians we have not been asked to sacrifice anything.

I had the same thoughts every time I saw a soldier in an airport. I wondered if they were coming or going, and if they were on their way home how difficult the adjustment must be for them. I witnessed the small ways they were honored in transit: the rounds of applause at the baggage claim, or on a plane after a pilot had honored them over the intercom, or the smiles and quiet thanks given by individuals to soldiers on terminal trams.

I recall the six months I spent worrying about my little brother while he served in Iraq in his position at the DOD. I swore an oath to him and myself that if anything happened to him I would devote the rest of my life making sure that the terrible story of this particular war would be impossible to hide through the retelling of history.

We spent Thanksgiving this year with my brother in Washington D.C. It was his first time hosting the holiday as a young adult in his new apartment. I was so grateful he was home. We feasted the way only a family with a Chef in its fold can do. During dinner he told us about the USO volunteers that he encountered all over the world and the platters of baked goods and comfort foods of home that they provided to all personnel serving in the wars abroad. My brother twice returned from war without family to greet him, and for the kindness shown to him by these folks I will be eternally grateful.

A nine year war ended today. The last soldiers are now racing the clock home to be with their loved ones for the holidays. I can't even imagine the relief and strangeness of the new life the Iraqi people are faced with now they are no longer occupied.

Anytime a war ends is a time for joy. This upcoming few weeks there will be many toasts to be made. This holiday season the word "peace" is more than some sentiment followed by the word "joy" on a card. Peace is the epic struggle for our slowly evolving species. During the holidays as we light our candles lets do so in dedication of peace and hope for the end of the war in Afghanistan. The cost of war is too much for any people to bear.

Lets give thanks to all the people across the world who bring peace in ways both big and small, and reflect on the meaningful ways that we can follow in their footsteps.

Authentic Celebration

2011-12-09T10:22:00.001-05:00

You know you live with a chef when it comes time to clean out the garage freezer and this is the list of stuff you are going to keep:

pork fat

salmon

rabbit legs & quarters

pork belly

oysters

24 quails

steam buns

cranberries

whole rabbit

whole duck

fruit purees

boneless short rib

pork scraps/neck

corn tortillas

japanese noodle with Uzu sauce?

gyro meat

I am not even going to get into what we threw out. Lets just say that according to Chef, there is plenty of room now. The idea to catalog the freezer came about in a discussion about what to cook while entertaining over the holidays. I think our stash has the makes for some serious wining and dining. Flock of quail anyone?

Feasting as a means to celebrate is a tradition that binds humankind. It is as relevant now as it was in ancient times...perhaps even more so today given that so many of our personal interactions happen in cyberspace. From the preparation of the food, to breaking bread...every aspect of a feast feeds authentic relationships. I dare say we could all use a little time devoted to authenticity this holiday season.

For real.

Ohhh Honey!

2011-12-02T13:54:00.004-05:00

This time of year I like to drink. Well, truth be told I like to drink most times of year. It is genetic. But during winter I like to drink things that warm. I am not a Scotch person. My parents, they are Scotch people. As a child, I used to hound them for a sip of whatever adult beverage they had in hand. They would cave knowing that the burning taste of Johnny Walker would make me gag. It did. To this day that first sip of Scotch always triggers churning chills down my spine. I can drink it if duty calls in certain social situations, but it is not preferred. I am an American girl when it comes to whiskey.

Bourbon whiskey is made from corn and is unique to the American South, distilled mainly in Kentucky but also Tennessee. Ironically enough the invention of bourbon is attributed to a Baptist minister named Rev. Elijah Craig. The term "bourbon" comes from the county in Kentucky where the distillation process of American whiskey was created. American whiskey producers are mandated by trade agreements to label their booze bourbon, but Tennessee whiskey producers refuse to label their bottles as such. Instead they use "sour mash whiskey" to disassociate themselves from their brothers in Kentucky, in true bootlegger moonshine feud style.

This week Chef and I were introduced to Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey. It was given to him as a gift to nurse an upper respiratory infection. Like a true southern bell she is warm, inviting, a real sweetie but if you take advantage of her good graces she will bite you in the ass. She made her debut to society this summer and has had five star reviews from anyone who has taken her for a ride.

Let me tell you something...this is one of the most sippable liquors Chef and I have ever tasted. I am not kidding. This beverage will now be a staple booze in our home. There is nothing syrupy about this drink, just whiskey warmed with honey. It is extraordinary.

Do yourself and everyone around you a favor and go buy a bottle. Maybe two. One for you and one as a gift to someone who needs a drink more than most. This year, this climate, this world we live in now demands too much from us, and there is nothing like a little southern comfort to provide relief from the cold. A little liquid courage to face the all consuming holiday season. I am telling you if cheer had a flavor, it would be Tennessee Honey.

Cheers to one of America's finest exports, and congrats to Mr. Daniels for landing himself such an incredible lady!

School Days

2011-11-18T16:18:00.000-05:00

This week I began my new part-time career as a substitute teacher. I say career because being a teacher, even part time, is more than a job. Way more than a job. You are responsible for educating and caring for a room full of children that are complete strangers to you, and you to them.

On Monday, I taught "Reading", a class to help 6th graders who struggled with the reading on the FCAT to 3 classes totalling 64 six graders. I never had to take the FCAT so I had no idea what to expect as far as curriculum I received the assignment the night before so I didn't have much time to reflect on the students either, except for the obvious preteen angst I would be up against combine with the substitute teacher get out of jail free card they would be waving in my face.

School started at 8:45 and ended at 4 pm. My first class came to me before lunch, as in 4 minutes before the lunch bell. I had to march them to the cafeteria. They lined up and we set forth down the hall, when suddenly one of the boys sprinted back to the room. I raced after him while the class continued on without me. He left his brownie in his backpack. My heart was racing. The kids were not supposed to be alone in the halls. Hurry up kid. I kept saying in my brain. Finally he gave up searching his backpack. We caught up with the class and marched to lunch. It was a rough start.

After lunch, they came in like a tornado and raged for the entire 1 1/2 hour time block. Stuff flying all over the room, note the chinese star above.

I was mocked. Openly defied constantly. Completely disrespected. Lied to.

"What is that? Food?"

"We are allowed to eat in here."

"Well, last class I busted someone for eating. He was keeping it on the down low, which if he was allowed to eat he would have done it openly. Put it away."

"No."

"Put it away, or I throw it away."

"Fine. Ugh. Someone said you were nice?"

I stood my ground. I was firm. I yelled. I even sent someone to the office. But it was insane. Such a rush. What went down in that class room left me in shock. I was giddy after class, like I had just been skydiving or something. God help us if this is the state of the next generation coming down the American public education pipeline. They are buck wild.

The Butter Song

2011-11-12T09:43:00.002-05:00

Weekends are good for love songs. Actually, any day is good for love songs...except for maybe Monday. This is a blog about the infinite happening of food in life, and a few weeks ago a song about butter rocked my world. Balthrop, Alabama, a ten piece+ band, including a visual artist illustrating each song live, refers to themselves as a small township. A brilliant witty auditory landscape if you ask me. My friend Jimmy Saal, producer of Atypical Arts Presents brought Balthrop, Alabama from Brooklyn to Jacksonville. Big thanks to him. There is no better gift than being introduced to wonderful new music.

This particular night was special because it was Chef and I's first date night in the big city by bicycle. We rolled down to grab some mediocre sushi, and then cruised to Five Points Theater to celebrate its final show before renovation. The opening act was this gorgeous sassy sweet soulful southern lady named Valerie June. Chef and I both developed a crush mid set. Then came Balthrop, Alabama. In the middle of the show someone appeared with a piece of cardboard ripped from a box that had the words "The Butter Song" scrawled across it in blue marker. The phrase alone brought joy to my heart, and as members of the audience began to chant the phrase...well this is what happened next.

The lyrics speak for themselves...but you have to listen to the music here

The Butter Song

I was always trying to find the butter knife

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

And then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

you could be my pretty wife

and I could be your lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

I was always trying to find the butter knife

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

and then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

I could your pretty wife

and you could be my lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

and the butter

and the butter knife

ran away

and they lived happily ever after

and so should we

I was always trying to find the butter knife

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

and then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

you could be my pretty wife

and I could be your lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

That last line cracks me up. No pun intended.

Creepy Meals

2011-11-02T22:53:00.001-04:00

My daughters received these in their trick or treat bags. They were individually wrapped and labeled "Creepy Meals" with no nutritional information. The man who handed them out was in is sixties, red complexion, white hair, yellow grinning teeth. Grandfatherly in a truck driver sort of way. He seemed really proud as he dropped them into their baskets, and we thanked him and wished him a happy holiday. And I made a mental note that as soon as we got home I would remove them and throw them away. Take a closer look.

Miniature gummy fast food, combined with human body parts. Of all the candy, of all the glorious candy in the world...why this? I just had to share these little culinary curiosities.

Completely unrelated, I have started writing a novel two days ago. You know, because I have nothing else to do. It is National Novel Writing Month and I decided to go for it. 55,000 words in 30 days. Hundreds of thousands of writers all over the world are pecking away like kamikaze typists. In two short days I have squeezed out 20 pages during nap time, after bedtime, and even at the gym. Don't ask me how. I have wanted to write a novel since I was eleven years old, and now with two kids, in school, with a part time job I have finally decided to make the time to do it...or find the time in the little cracks of daily life.

I am a woman on a mission, so forgive me if my posts in the next three weeks are short. Wish me luck.

Tricky Lil' Corn

2011-10-28T14:34:00.000-04:00

I say it every year. I love Halloween. What is not to love. Candy corn alone is reason enough. I waited until yesterday to buy my annual bag and now there is no turning back. What is candy corn? It is exactly what you might suspect...sugar, corn syrup, water, fondant, marshmallow, and yes...wax. I think the wax is what I love the most about it. The pliable texture it brings to this little iconic candy that is over a century old. Supposedly 9000 tons of it is sold in America each year, enough to circumnavigate the globe over 4 times if laid yellow head to white toe. Did you know that the yellow part was the top of a candy corn? Tricky little treat.

Speaking of corn...we went to the Conner's Farm for their annual corn maze...well actually we just go for the corn pool. You have to swim at your own risk.

This year I am a little behind the ball. I just bought my pumpkins today, with a plan to carve them tomorrow while Chef is watching his annual college football game...UGA vs. UF. It is an excuse for me to make this dip. Or maybe I will be good and make some kale chips...to dip with. Long ago, in Scotland, young folks would be blindfolded and go pick kale from the garden on Halloween. They would lay the uprooted plants by the fire and the read them for signs of what their betrothed might look like. Shriveled and puny, or tall and supple. The more dirt on the root ball would mean the larger the dowry. Then they would be tacked in a row over the front door and each visitor that night would be identified with the mangled plant that resembled them most.

Something about that tradition makes me really happy.

Happy Halloween! Get your trick on!

Fall Gardens

2011-10-21T14:34:00.000-04:00

Sunday afternoon I began our fall garden at home. Florida may be a place where people come to die, but when the rest of the east coast is witnessing the glorious moribundity of fall, here in Florida there is a rebirth after the dog days of summer. French radishes, golden beets, red beets, fennel, broccoli raab, romanesco, butter lettuces, leeks, romaine, kale, Brussels sprouts, cilantro. We started hundreds of seeds, most of which leftover from the restaurant garden, and by Wednesday some had already begun to sprout.

72 hours. Spindly stalks stretched their way through the darkness lifting their tiny leaves into the warm fall sunshine. It always blows me away when I think of plants moving on their own accord. Their pace is so remarkable, their steady slowness is constant and unwavering. Everyday, all around you, plants are on the move...up, down, reaching, bowing, opening, coiling, closing. All this motion is so slight it is barely registered by the human eye.

We are a lot like plants. We all have dormant seeds with huge potential sleeping inside. Sometimes a catastrophe triggers our inner seed to sprout, and sometimes the awakening is due to nurturing intent. But I dare say that for many of us our seed just remains asleep, and we dream of it on occasion.

Lately though, it seems like all over the world seeds are starting to sprout. Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, USA, Chile, Britain, Greece, the list goes on and on covering every continent. People in their own ways are unfolding their hearts and minds to a brighter future. The ways people bring their seedlings into the light are infinite...like the complexity of humanity...but one thing is certain - no matter what your potential is, in order for it to be met you have to dig in to dig out.

Besides, it is always fun to get your hands a little dirty.

The Pursuit of Happiness

2011-10-12T10:57:00.000-04:00

In searching for my video clip for last week's post I came across this image. In the first days of Occupy Wall Street as the activists marched down Wall Street power lunchers at the Cipriani Club 55 enjoyed the spectacle from the club's balcony, champagne and cocktails in hand. This video has understandably bothered many people because it seems to define the attitude of Wall Street. We are untouchable from our perch, and we know it. Cheers.

I went online to read more about the Cipriani Club 55, and I found this description on their website:

The Club will provide you everything essential to live the good life. The on-site Cipriani Clubb 55 is the natural extension of your professional and social life; an outstanding restaurant, a proper bar, a stylish and complete library, a traditional barber shop, a discreet business lounge, a full-service spa, a billiard room, a state-of-the-art screening room and Cipriani boutique. The 24 hour concierge service, carried out by the best professionals in New York, will make the world become small and easy. We like the pursuit of happiness for all our customers.

I love this. Particularly the last two sentences. The world for the top 1% is delectably small and easy.

Last Saturday, my daughters and I went to Occupy Jacksonville. It was their first experience as activists and it was open and welcoming.

There were hundreds of people there representing a big world that is far from easy. Elderly people, professional people, college kids, families, homeless people, the whole gamut. We came out in the middle of a tropical storm in solidarity with our fellow Americans. The rain held out for us...it was that perfect windy tumultuous weather that adds a spark to the air before a storm. City council member, Don Redman, tried to shut the gathering down, but the police would not engage...probably because of the 48 officers that had been laid off the week before by the City. And besides...we were just private citizens peacefully enjoying a day at a public park.

Many people have asked me lately why did I go to Occupy Jacksonville? What is this movement about. And ironically enough I think I found my answer in the luxurious description of Cipriani Club 55 that echos our very Declaration of Independence.

The Occupy Wall Street Movement is about the pursuit of happiness. My two favorite Founding Fathers, Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson declared it an "unalienable right" for all Americans in the Declaration of Independence. Most of us find ourselves today playing by the rules, doing what our parents did to get ahead and provide us with a better life, a happier life, but our own government no longer protects or even recognizes our unalienable rights. This is because our legal system is held in the iron grip of Corporate America. Since corporations were given personhood in the 1800's their unalienable rights just seem to grow over the years while ours diminish.

But they are not human beings, they are entities created by human beings. Like robots. They do not have one heart, corporations are comprised of millions of hearts. The hearts of those that work to make them successful, and the hearts of those who support them as consumers. The fastest way to the human heart is through the stomach.

Starve the beast. Buy local. Support small business, not Big business. Put what little money you have where your mouth is...because to the Wall Street Club money talks.

Oh and share this with folks if you find any truth in it. We all need to keep the dialogue rolling.

Dining at Occupy Wall Street

2011-10-04T15:40:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been to a protest? Well, if not...you should. It is one of our most important rights in this country, the right to peacefully assemble, and if you have never exercised it take the time to do it at some point in your life. It is a right that creates real change. Change you can see and feel, not just change you can believe in. And, exercising your right to assemble is more empowering than you can imagine...the sense of freedom and community combined is electric.

In college I went to more protests than I can count. WTO, IMF, FTAA, Iraq War...if I had a ride I was there. The thrill of activism made me feel more alive than anything else. I was tear gassed in Quebec City and made the cover of many national papers in Washington DC. During both circumstances I was not doing anything unruly, just standing there peacefully...okay maybe I did raise my voice a bit, but I was just excited. Peacefully excited.

As I read about the patriots assembling in NYC, I thought to myself...who is feeding them? At all the protests I have attended there have been makeshift soup kitchens organized by various organizations like Food Not Bombs or food camps set up by the organizers of the action. In my experience there was a lot of vegetarian stews, beans, and rice. Fruit. Bread stuffs. And looking back the food was always served on real plates with real silverware, and a three sink wash basin was there for washing. You can't exactly protest environmental degradation and be using paper plates now can you?

After a day of walking miles of city blocks and standing on your feet for 12 hours straight food takes on an entirely new meaning. As Chef says, hunger is the best sauce, and let me tell you vegan stew never tasted so good. But the folks in NYC that are striving to wake up the nation they have a different menu all together. It is NYC, dining destination of the world. According to this article, the charity of supporters has dished out some pretty great grub. Local restaurants have opened their kitchens so activists can cook the food for the hundreds of people gathered, an estimated 200 pizzas a day are delivered to the food camp, giant six foot subs, and even fruit bouquets from Edible Arrangements.

There is one pizza place in particular, Liberatos Pizza, that has lost count the number of pizzas it takes to Zuccotti Park, and even has a special discount for a pizza fittingly dubbed the "Ocu Pie." People from all over the country and the world have been ordering pizzas from this place to be delivered to Occupy Wall Street.

We all have different comfort levels when it comes to activism, but I think we call agree that our fellow Americans striving to bring real attention to our plight as the 99% struggling every day in the richest nation in the world just to make ends meet are doing us all a big favor. Huge favor.

To better understand their message, because lets face it the corporate media is a joke, go here. Please, check it out because this is as real as apple pie. As real as the on-going revolution in the Arab world. In fact on October 6th Occupy Washington DC begins. And if you go the the 99% tumblr, and it moves you to buy a pizza for your fellow citizens give Liberatos a call at 212.344.3464.

Take time this week to help feed liberty.

Oh, and share this post wherever you can. Every little bit of solidarity is worth its weight in freedom.

The Butterfly Named Mango

2011-09-30T16:30:00.000-04:00

My three year old celebrated Rosh Hashanah at preschool this week. The Jewish New Year has many traditions that revolve around food...from eating apples and honey to celebrate a sweet new year, to Tashlich where bread is thrown into a body of water to signify the casting off of sins to start the year with a fresh slate.

This week a piece of paper came home in her backpack. It is a blessing that they worked on as a class, and I would like to share it with you. There is an utterly random food reference that made me laugh.

The Blessing For The World

We wish the world would have millions of monkeys and a butterfly named Mango. Also, the world needs lots of present. The world needs kisses and cakes and princesses. We wish for peace, justice, and lots and lots of Mommy love and many beautiful flowers. That's all.

The butterfly named Mango. Why Mango? The national fruit of India, Pakistan, and the Philippines. The mango is used in rituals of Ganesha, remover of Obstacles, patron of arts and sciences, and deva of intellect and wisdom. Butterflies in many cultures signify the soul of either living or dead.

Combine the two: the world needs a soul that removes obstacles by nourishing art, science, intellect, and wisdom. A butterfly named Mango, mascot for world peace.

Coffee at the Breastaurant

2011-09-22T16:11:00.000-04:00

If you haven't noticed, lately I have been blogging about coffee. Lately being the past year of my life, but having two children between the ages 1 and 3 has that effect on people. Lil' Bit started school, and I volunteered to be a "room mom." This week I will meet with the other "room moms" to talk about...well not sure...the room?

The "room moms" discussed where to go have a cup of coffee and figure out this vague job for the year, and I thought to myself Hooters. What would these two other thirty-something women, I barely know say if I threw out the name of the local breastaurant?

"Hey ladies I have an idea. What about Hooters? I hear they have great coffee and it is loud with plenty of room for my 1 year old to roam around. If it is nice we could sit outside on the deck...."

What I if I said that with a warm straight face to these two women, these mothers, with whom I have never had more than a three minute conversation?

Breastaurants are strange. I first learned this word about 2 months ago when Chef says to me one night while lying in bed, "So breastaurants are pretty lucrative, and there is a new one that is a bit more sophisticated than Hooters that is really taking off. It is called Twin Peaks. What do you think?"

"Did you just say the word breastaurant?" I had never heard that word before, and I found it utterly hilarious and perfect. Breastaurant.

"As long as people have to sit at tables to eat and the food isn't total crap, I am cool with it. I mean, if that is where you want our daughters to pick up shifts as teenagers during the summer. I had a friend in high school who really worked her way up the Hooter ladder. Got into a calendar or something."

Chef dropped it.

The girls and I drive past a Hooters on the way to school every morning. It sits nestled on the water next to a small bridge and marina. It is a place where some people come to eat, watch sports, and stare at tits, and where some people work. They fry wings, or sling beers and cleavage. It is a lucrative business model that has its rightful place in society.

I think we need to explore this restaurant concept further. Maybe transform the common package store and bar to a haven for the under-appreciated heterosexual woman. A softly lit tavern where you can get 2 for 1 margaritas, where you can watch talk shows or reruns of dramas and comedies from the 90's...like Melrose Place, or the Golden Girls, or My So Called Life. Where you can get a great mixed salad and buy your bottle of gin for the week, and perhaps where the waiters strut about in black Speedos, and retro threadbare shirts that are just a little too tight. A Package store with a big P.

Now that is an idea I will run by Chef. A market that really needs to be tapped....

Late Summer Harvest

2011-09-09T08:59:00.000-04:00

The eggplants were tired at 29 South, so Shannon pulled them. Before our amazing gardener did the dirty work I managed to snag a few fruits. Eggplants and peppers are amazing vegetables. Through the maddening heat of late summer they push through a bounty that is unbelievable given the circumstances. They are relatively small plants, with smallish leaves and it is surprising how they produce so much fruit, and they seem to thrive in the dead heat of summer.

I think we could learn something from late summer vegetable plants. They have extraordinary stamina during a time of year when everything else seems to be dragging. And they do so with panache. I mean look at these colors.

It is hard to go wrong with roasted vegetables. Olive oil. Salt. Pepper.

A holy trinity.

I needed a quick fix for dinner the other night and looked to the veggie bowl. Eggplant from our garden and summer squash, red and green peppers from the farmer's market. There was some Israeli cous cous in the pantry. Feta in the fridge.

It is hard to go wrong with roasted vegetables. Olive oil. Salt. Pepper. A holy trinity.

The end product was so good I forgot to photograph it until it was almost finished three days later. This is one of those dishes that just gets better as leftovers.

The recipe is so easy and you can use it for any veg. Here...try it this weekend. It will become a regular go to in a pinch. This is my recipe, one I concocted using broad strokes of improvisation...so excuse the vagueness.

Ingredients:

4 cups of seasonal vegetables chopped in 1/2 inch cubes.
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 tablespoon of salt and pepper to taste
2 cups of cous cous of any kind
a big hunk of feta cheese, crumbled (Buy feta in a block and crumble it yourself...not as dry as pre-crumbled cheese and no low fat cheese...unless you must. The real deal adds a creaminess to the dish.)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees
Chop your veg and put it in a bowl. Toss it with olive oil, salt and pepper
Spread veg out on a cookie sheet and put in oven. Roast for 30 minutes.
While veg is cooking, make the cous cous according to the package directions.
When cous cous is done put it in a large bowl and add veg to cous cous.
Add feta to bowl and toss and drizzle with olive oil.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

*As a side note: I like to add fresh basil, or mint, lemon or chopped kalamata olives to this dish depending on the veg flavors.

Wild Horses, Wild Women

2011-09-02T14:42:00.000-04:00

This summer I went to an epic bachelorette party, or as they say in England...an epic "hen" party. It is a new tradition for a woman to be thrown a raging party by friends before marriage compared to its compliment, the "stag" party. While the latter has been around for centuries in its common form, the idea for women to go out and get plastered as one last hurrah has really only become common since the 1960's.

This particular party was no bar hopping hose down. Nope. The bride to be, my cousin, brought 11 of her closest gals to a sea island where she spent much of her childhood exploring life. That is Sarah above showing me how she can peel a shrimp in two moves. I prided myself as a three stage peeler, but growing up on an island as the daughter of a ship captain...well lets just say the girl knows her way around seafood.

As family in the restaurant business, I volunteered to be in charge of food and beverage...the duty of a bridesmaid called. I did this without much thought to what it would entail, you see Cumberland Island is mostly National Park. You have to get there by boat, cars are allowed only to the handful of people that live there, and there is no grocery or liquor store to restock if the cupboard runs dry.

Chef and I set to work listing all that would be needed. There would be two breakfasts, two lunches, and one dinner to be prepared on site. I asked the bride to be what her favorite foods were for each meal and a menu took form. As did a cocktail line up. Not hitting a bar scene had no bearing on the debauchery we had planned. Beer, Wine, Tequilla, Vodka, Gin, and Goslings Rum for the bachelorette's favorite beverage the Dark and Stormy (captains daughter classic) were boxed with appropriate mixers and readied for the boat ride.

The day before we set off we began stockpiling boxes and coolers in our living room for the voyage. A repair man came to our house to fix something and asked what it was all for. I told him "camping" not wanting to explain that we rented a house on an isolated island...yada yada yada. He looked at me like I was a capricious lunatic.

One of the other bridesmaids was helping us with this endeavor and when it came time to load our little fishing boat she doubted it would run with such a load. Oh, but run it did. We cracked open some beers for the ride and Sarah, her sister/maid of honor, and two ginger bridesmaids cast off with Chef as our captain. He got us to the island safely, did his Sherpa duty, and then left us to our business.

I had a game plan, and each meal went wonderfully. Breakfast happened spontaneously as we dragged ourselves out of bed. We had two fabulous picnic lunches. One at Plum Orchard, a grand abandoned home perched on a field scattered with wild horses. There we dined on a variety of gorgeous cheeses shipped from California, by a bridesmaid that was unable to attend. Another lunch on the beach with a variety of salads brought by the bachelorette's sister in laws. We had two dinners on the island. The first meal we made at our little cottage. The menu: boiled shrimp, Sarah's father's grouper with special sauce, grits, and mixed green salad. Chef had taken the grits out of the package, and without internet we had no idea the proper way to cook them. Luckily, a southern sister in law swooped in and gave us a lesson.

The last night we had dinner at the Greyfield Inn. Every Christmas Eve, Sarah's family comes to the inn for dinner, and she wanted to share a taste of her family tradition with us. It was a gorgeous meal.

After dinner, we had a lingerie party, did shots and went skinny dipping in shark infested waters. Who needs a table top bar dance when you have man-eating fish, rip tides, and tequila to make your last hurrah wild and crazy? Tipsy girls being circled by large predators...just like any run of the mill bachelorette party bar scene right? Wrong. This bachelorette party was extraordinary, just like the lady it honored.

(Sarah on the right, with her sister Molly...beauties!)

Sister

2011-08-26T11:40:00.001-04:00

Today is a coffee with lunch kind of day. My grandmother told me her mother always kept a pot of coffee on the stove and a pot of rice. That is my grandmother above, an exceptionally classy lady, a member of the Greatest Generation, a dying breed of women, who always had coffee with lunch.

One of my earliest memories is standing behind her in the kitchen. Sister, as we called her, has her back to me at the stove. She is in an A-line skirt, navy blue heels, and cream blouse, with an apron tied in a tight bow above the hip. My father's mother cooked a formal dinner every night for her family of six, usually in heels. She never spat, except when brushing her teeth, and she gave me my first set of pearl earrings. Oh, and she loved Chardonnay.

One of my earliest posts here on Ecoculinaire was about Sister. She passed away early this June, and I will never forget the last living moment we shared with her as a family. We were gathered around her bed, where we had been the entire week. Around this woman who touched so many hearts with her bright smile and open mind. Her bedside had been a peaceful, solemn place, where stories were quietly shared as friends and family gathered. But that Friday, at around Happy Hour, there was a shift in the air. My grandmother always had nibbles out at 5 and an open bottle of white wine to be enjoyed by anyone who stopped by...and people did stop by to sit a spell. She called this hour "wine time."

It was as if the idea came in on a sea breeze. It was not discussed. It was not planned. A spontaneous wine time erupted at Sister's deathbed. Suddenly my aunts began bustling about in the kitchen. Cheese plates were brought out, and my Uncle's incredible crab dip. Glasses brimming with Chardonnay and crackers piled high were passed from hand to hand around my grandmother. The hands of her children and one of her six grandchildren. We were there, and even though she had been unconscious for almost a week, we knew Sister was there too.

My grandmother was the essential Southern lady. A Yellow Dog Democrat who practiced tolerance and lived with an open intellect which allowed her to befriend people from all walks of life. A woman who exuded both a rich warmth and a delicate elegance, like a meringue. Women of her caliber are dwindling and I think we all need to take a hard look at ourselves today in relation to our grandmothers. Women born long before the Women's Liberation Movement, who held pride as matriarchs and found their own stride as their children opened new doors for them.

What doors will we open for our mothers? Just something to think about over a cup of coffee at lunch.

Boiling Over.

2011-08-20T16:39:00.000-04:00

So sorry for my spotty posts this summer. Have you ever had a window in life where no matter what you do nothing seems to get you ahead of the game? Weeks of time pass and one thing happens after another in such a fashion that you know the Universe is trying to tell you something, but there is just no time to digest any of the change because there is just almost too much to bear? I feel like we all go through certain periods of life where change rolls in like a pot coming to a boil, one bubble popping at a time until everything is up in the air. You just try to keep it together so you don't loose your lid...then things begin to fall into place.

The dust has finally settled here, and so have my nerves. We are at that point after a move where you feel comfortable enough to have a friend over for a glass of wine without worrying that they might think you are a terrible hoarder. I purchased my first house plant for our new digs, a big beautiful fern from the Riverside Arts Market...an incredible food and arts market that just so happens to occur about a mile from my house on the banks of a huge river in the shade of a gigantic bridge. The market happens every Saturday, and it is fast becoming a weekend tradition.

There are many new wonderful things in our life now we are living in this city of rivers. As we slug our way through the end of summer, I sense a lot of new beginnings. The next few weeks I will be sharing with you some of the more extraordinary experiences I had this past summer, now that I am in a place where my lid is secure and the dust can be easily swept under the rug...if need be.

Unpacking Chef's Kitchen

2011-07-07T13:04:00.000-04:00

You know you live with a Chef when you unpack your kitchen after a move and just the variety of salt alone takes up half a shelf. Chef and I have had to do some serious downsizing. Our new digs is literally half the size of our last home, and while we have given away contractor bags full of clothes and toys...all kitchenware is sacred.

Do we need two mixers? Yes. Do we need two ice cream makers? Yes. Do we need three can openers? Maybe. It is impossible to use two can openers simultaneously, much less three. You never know.

For some reason I was given the task of unpacking the kitchen. Perhaps because I am the "homemaker" and the kitchen is the center of our home. Or it could be because it is the most daunting of the rooms to unpack. There are so many different tools that categorizing them in any meaningful way is next to impossible. Where do I put the meat cleaver? The tortilla press? The crepe tool? The pasta drying rack? Egg mold? Silplat? The entire collection of random Asian ingredients whose labels are a total mystery?

When you share a home kitchen with a culinary artist, your kitchen is not just a place where family meals are prepared...it is also an artist's studio. Like any other professional artist, a chef's tools are utterly essential to the creative process. So I will find each a home in our little bungalow kitchen, so Chef has all he needs at his fingertips to concoct his artworks, and continue to bless our table with masterpieces.

Now where to put the blowtorch?

On the Move

2011-06-10T14:59:00.000-04:00

Sorry about the radio silence, but the past two weeks have been a doozy. We are on the move. Chef, the girls and I are moving to Jacksonville this month. Above is a snack I created when in desperate need of a quick refuel. Let me present a perfect food for the throws of moving: Tada...Branston Pickle & cream cheese on a mini bagel. Only 215 calories, vegetarian, and really delicious. Even the Sprout likes it, which makes it an even better food on the move. Food on the move has to easy to prepare, easy to eat without utensils, and something liked by all.

I love to move. I feel it is intrinsic because we are naturally a nomadic species. Migration is an essential part of our evolution on this planet. The agricultural evolution definitely changed our patterns, but even in the 21st century many of us spend our days running around, conducting a micro-migration about our little lives from place to place. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, to migrate is to move from one country, place, or locality to another. For many species this movement is driven by food and sex. Food, sex, and movement. Pretty key components of the good life if you ask me.

I have lived on this island for nine years now. I met my love on this island and became a mother here. For over 150 years my family has lived on Amelia in their ancestral homes. It is a rare thing in America for a family to stay in one place for so long, and I am grateful for those that have held down the fort here in Fernandina.

This is our first migration as a new family. Granted we are only moving an hour away, but anything off the island seems like a great distance. A small adventure in the grand scheme of things, but who knows?

We are moving to the Bold New City of the South.

Farmer to Table

2011-05-27T15:35:00.001-04:00

Beach season is in full swing, and so is the S & N Bed and Breakfast. From late spring to early fall friends and family flood our home to enjoy a taste of island life. While at times I find the constant changing of linens overwhelming, both Chef and I love to have guests stay with us. It gives us a reason to indulge in both eat and drink, our children the chance to share their hoard of toys, and our pets get the rub downs that they deserve.

Speaking of Bed and Breakfasts, above is the Greyfield Inn. What is the difference between an inn and a bed & breakfast? The mealtime. Inn's serve dinner, while B&B's do not. Dinner at the Greyfield Inn with the man I love was what I wanted to do the night of my big 30. It is a little gem tucked away in an oak hammock on Cumberland Island, GA. Built in 1900 by Thomas and Lucy Carnegie for their daughter Margaret, the home was made into an inn in 1962 by her daughter Lucy Ferguson. It is where JFK Jr. was married and wild horses roam.

Chef and I ventured there at sunset in our little fishing boat for dinner. Doesn't he look dapper? We cruised up the Amelia River and through the Cumberland Sound. It was my mission to have a day of firsts in celebration of this monumental day, and while I have been to Cumberland Island more times than I can count, this was my first time dining at the award winning inn.

When we arrived we were greeted on the dock by two young women with lulling southern accents. They drove us to the inn in a vintage Land Rover Defender, a vehicle Chef dreams of owning one day. We bumped up a dirt road to the graceful mansion just in time for drinks at the Honest John where a spread of cocktail fixings awaited.

There is something special about a tiny bar unguarded by a tender, with nothing more than a notebook for patrons to calculate their mischief. My handsome date made me a gin and tonic, himself a Negroni and we then ventured into the library.

This room immediately filled me with a sense of easy wonder. It is the kind of space that you could easily sit in silence for hours, or ramble on in deep conversation in front of a roaring fire listening to jazz. The tomes that lined the shelves wore the marks of avid readers from generations of life. If I ever have the luxury of a library at home, this space is what I will use as my inspiration.

We made ourselves another round and headed into the drawing room where some of the other dinner guests were mingling. We grabbed a few small bites and decided to head to the porch to enjoy the twilight. I sat on a porch swing with the girth of a daybed, and Chef in a rocking chair. We searched the grounds for wild horses that drift across the island, but none graced our presence. The dinner bell rang and we made our way back inside.

One giant table was set in the dining room. At the Greyfield Inn you dine with whomever is a guest that evening, and on this particular night it was as if the Fates planned the seating chart. There were eight of us dining in total, and two of the couples were farmers. We were all to sit at one large table in a room with a fire crackling in the hearth. We were surprised by this style of dining, but happily took our places at the table.

There is a wonderful intimacy that develops amongst strangers sharing a meal. We quickly fell into conversation with the couple who sat across from us, owners of Deep Creek Ranch. They supply grass-fed beef to some of the finest restaurants in Orlando, and it was fascinating to talk shop with them. There was also a pair of farmers from New Jersey, and a couple from Wisconsin as well. The company was excellent, the four courses were superb, the ambiance was perfection.

After the meal we made our way down the dark dirt road to the docks and cast off into the night. There was no moon to speak of and a brisk wind on the water, but we were still warm from the cozy dining room. The whole evening was wonderfully old fashioned and intimate: from arriving by small boat, to classic cocktails on the porch, to the charm of dining by fire and candle light in a century old home on a small island in the deep south, where hospitality is still more than a mint on your pillow.

Fluoride on Tap

2011-05-19T15:27:00.001-04:00

Teeth are beyond strange, and I have such respect for folks who spend their days digging around in other people's mouths. The dental profession is one trade that I will never dabble in. There is just something about the mouth as an orifice that I find unpalatable. It is the portal to our innards, lined with bones used for grinding and tearing food. It is dark, slobbery, stinky. Gross.

I broke my front tooth Easter Sunday. Let me rephrase. I broke off my veneer, a little piece of porcelain no bigger than a press-on pinkie nail that costs as much as some used cars. This is the second time this veneer had broken, the first during a date with Chef early in our relationship. He had cooked me dinner, which included a beautiful warm boules. I bit into the crisp crust of the bread, and as I chewed I crunched down on something hard. I reached into my mouth and pulled out the little white shard, and did not make the connection that it was part of my front tooth until I had flicked it off his balcony. Needless to say I was mortified.

This Easter it happened during brunch at a friend's house. My daughter looked at the nub protruding from my gum and she asked, "Mommy is that your horn?" I replied, "Yes. It is my unicorn horn." I was doing my best to rally, but the reality is that when you have a case of pumpkin mouth it is hard to have a sense of humor. For one thing, you don't want to smile. At all.

Two days ago I went to the dentist to have a permanent crown put on. After a good needling, while I sat there waiting for the anesthesia to set I decided to ask my dentist a question that has been bothering me for awhile. "So what is the deal with Fluoride? How did they figure out its effects on teeth, and why do some people discourage its use because it is considered a poison?"

There are many folks who think fluoride should not be in our tap water. In 2008, the National Kidney Foundation changed their stance from pro-fluoride to neutral on the topic because of concerns of how Fluoride can effect those suffering from renal problems. The Sierra Club stance is that it should not be mandatory. The USA is part of only a handful of countries that fluoridates their drinking water, many other nations have tried it in the past but have found it too hard to control the amount of fluoride in the water, a problem we have in the US because it is state regulated thus inconsistent, and some countries just found it too expensive.

My dentist, who is an amazing doctor...the best dentist I have ever been to, went on to tell me that in the 70's there was a number of studies done on certain populations that had better teeth than others. Turns out in Texas the water in the aquifers that tap water came from have extremely high levels of fluoride naturally. The people's teeth were stronger than in other parts of the country. They did a controlled study on two groups in New York, one with people drinking un-fluoridated water and one without. The evidence showed a dramatic difference in how healthy their teeth were. Her response on the poison factor was that anything ingested in large doses can be harmful, and that the amount of fluoride in tap water is minuscule. Her reasoning was scientific and exact, and she seemed very sure peeping at me over her spectacles.

I didn't tell her that I had used un-fluoridated tooth paste for over a decade now, and had only had two cavities in that time, but also have had a much healthier diet. As a child that ate junk food and drank soda pop like it was my job I suffered terribly with dental issues, even though I brushed twice a day with fluoridated toothpaste.

I didn't tell her that my kids' pediatric dentist told me not to brush their teeth with fluoride because they could ingest it.

A good hour of solid drilling into my face, the deed was done. My tooth looked like new. I was glad for modern dentistry...thrilled with it. But the fluoride issue was on my mind and I asked my dentist why not just brush it on...why do we have to ingest it? She said the ingestion made the teeth actually grow stronger, while the topical application was just a superficial plus. Makes sense to me, but the ethics of it are still questionable. I am not sure if I am comfortable with a government adding medication to its water supply, regardless of how minimal the amount.

Although a little Marinol in the old tap water would probably do most folks in this country a world of good...take the edge off if you know what I mean.

High Five

2011-05-06T20:15:00.001-04:00

I know Cinco De Mayo was yesterday, but I just can't help myself. I love Cinco De Mayo. Any reason to drink a margarita in the middle of the week is okay in my book. In fact, if you are looking for the perfect libation to celebrate again, perhaps this weekend, this day of liberation go no further. Go here.

In a nutshell: Cinco De Mayo is the day when the Mexican people took back their country from the French, the best army in the world during that time period. It was 1862 and the United States was in the throws of the Civil War unable to help their neighboring country. Outnumbered two to one the Mexican army defeated the French at the Battle of Pueblo. They held their own for a year, and then the French took the nation. But not for long. In 1867 with our help Mexico was finally independent.

The story of the underdog always intrigues me. When we were recently in Mexico we had an extraordinary meal at a restaurant named Cetli in Tulum. The meal was extraordinary in two ways: 1. It was comprised of incredible indigenous ingredients used to create artful, delicious, contemporary plates of food, and 2. Everything was cooked by one person in a kitchen alone, a young woman named Chef Claudia Pèrez. Cetli had been recommended by the owner of the property we rented and its menu looked fabulous online so I thought it would be a great place to bring Chef.

We eat when we travel. We eat a lot, and I always do my due diligence in choosing the restaurant, or food stand, or food truck, or whatever it may be that is going to give us the most authentic experiences. One of the things that really drew me to this restaurant was this dish: Tililtic

Shrimp with huitlachoche, a.k.a. black corn fungus. I read a review on TripAdvisor that talked about this dish in particular and it really intrigued me. You may be thinking why black corn fungus? It is not a phrase that jumps to mind when you think of delicious, but what can I say. As I mentioned last week in my fascination with microfungi yeast, I have a thing for mushrooms. I have yet to meet one that I didn't enjoy, one way or another. This huitlachoche did not disappoint.

When Chef put this in his mouth his immediate thought was the genius behind this 'surf and turf.' The shrimp nestled in this stew of black corn fungus was a perfect composition. The flavor balance was exceptional, the rich earthiness of the huitlachoche grounded the briney, sweet taste of the shrimp without overwhelming it in the least. This was our first course of the evening and it set the pace for the rest of the night.

I sat with my back to the kitchen. The kitchen no bigger than the little closet we work out of at 29 South. Chef had the view of the chef through a screened window in the dining room. Exceptional female chefs are a rare breed, and this woman Chef Claudia Pèrez is in a class all of her own. Not only did the woman prepare every dish for every customer by herself that night, but I also spotted her at the sink scrubbing away. It was a two woman show, just the chef and a lovely server. It takes some cajones to run a restaurant of that caliber in such a manner. Big cajones.

This woman's food is more than memorable. This dish here, the house specialty, Chile en Nogada

I will hold it in my heart forever. Poblano chili stuffed with minced beef with pineapple and raisins, covered with white nut and chesse sauce sprinkled with granada and coriander. Served with a side of white rice sweetly steamed in a corn husk. A.k.a. perfection.

Like the Mexicans on that fateful day in May, or a chef far outnumbered by her customers, there is something to be said for those working against the odds and coming out on top. The victory of the underdog is one to be celebrated by all. This weekend, make this margarita and toast to it!

Intuition

2011-04-28T11:31:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow Chef and I are working an event together, for the first time in almost two years. We work well together, as long as I don't ask questions like "Do you think you should stir that more?" or "Is that burner too hot?" I have no idea why I question him like this, particularly because usually I have no clue how to cook whatever it is he is making. This Friday, I will bite my tongue and let him do what he knows best. All the area's best chefs and many great small farmers are joining forces for a Slow Down, a fundraiser for our local Slow Food Convivium at Intuition Ale Works.

According to the Merriam Webster Online Dictionary, the word intuition is defined as the power or faculty attaining to direct knowledge or cognition without evident rational thought and inference. In other words, a gut feeling. If you recall, a few months back I posted about a certain fabulous beer tasting, that showcased Intuition's incredible brews each paired with local fare. What struck me most about that meal was the flavor profiles of the beer...I just couldn't wrap my head around them.

The lovely folks at Intuition asked Chef and I to come for a tour of the brewery a few weeks ago. We of course jumped at the opportunity. It takes a certain type of panache to pull off a great beer with unique flavor, and we wanted to know more about this craft, and the crafty people behind the beer. Heck, we just wanted more of their delicious beer.

Upon our arrival, we were greeted by Cari Sanchez-Potter, business manager extraordinaire and food blogger, who set before us this gorgeous flight of every beer they have on tap. The gal knows how to make an introduction. A veritable rainbow of brew. Chef and I happily sat down at the bar and began to taste. As we sipped, this gentleman, or should I say genius, Ben Davis, owner and brewer of Intuition Ale Works, saddled up to the bar and began to describe in fantastic detail each beer, how its particular brewing process influences its flavors.

He spoke as if he were discussing the intricacies of fine wine, which makes sense. Ben used to be in the wine business in California, but returned to his roots in Jacksonville in order to raise his family and there he found a burgeoning craft-beer market desperate to be tapped.

Ben told us about hops, and how like wine grapes they are vines that thrive in particular regions, mainly Washington State here in the USA. Recently there was a bit of a hops shortage due to weather and farmers making the unfortunate choice of switching their crop to corn for ethanol. But unlike wine, it is not the fruit of the vine that determines the taste of beer. As he delved into the flavors of each beer, we learned that 70% to 80% of the flavor from beer comes from the type of yeast used while brewing. Yeast is something that mystifies me...

It is alive for one thing. In fact, its use has been documented by humans for over 4,000 years. The domestication of this tiny fungi is responsible for two of my most favorite indulgences, booze and bread. It exists everywhere in nature, but you have to capture it in order to cultivate it. It is sexual being that reproduces like wild fire. As it grows, it is stressed which causes it to release flavor compounds. I didn't ask how one stresses yeast out. Maybe they yell at it...or slap it around a bit? Who knows, but just look at that glass of yeast.

As Ben guided us through the brewery we came upon this giant machine. From what I understand once you have your hops and your yeast it is then boiled, filtered, and fermented by this crazy machine and its various holding tanks:

While the above looks like the lab of a mad scientist, the process of brewing beer is as organic and natural as the day is long. And what better way to end a long day than with a tall glass of cold beer. Or eleven.

We did our best to treat the flight like a proper tasting, leaving a little sip in each glass. But I am not going to lie, it pained me to do so. The team at Intuition Ale Works have something special going on in this little warehouse tucked away in the Riverside neighborhood of Jacksonville. It just so happens that Chef and I are going to be calling this neighborhood home soon, and I have a beer gut feeling that their taproom is going to become a favorite watering hole. At least that is what my intuition tells me.

Matzo

2011-04-22T17:19:00.002-04:00

Passover is the story of how the Jews fled Egypt to escape the tyranny of the pharaoh in 1312 BC. They had to leave so quickly after the tenth plague that they didn't have time to let their bread rise. So they baked it unleavened, resulting in matzo. The first fast food...who knew?

Pesach, as the holiday is in known in Hebrew, has arrived and with it has come the bright boxes of giant crackers. If you have never had matzo, it is almost like a huge saltine that takes forever to go stale. I love crackers, in fact as a decendant of a Florida Pioneer family I have even been told that I am "of cracker stock." Crackers are a common snack for our family and matzo is one of our favorites. Its only downside is that like a saltine it is very fragile, making it terribly crummy.

Chef is a member of the Tribe, as we attempted to read the Haggadah with our two year old, following the rituals that accompany the text. The matzo is an essential aspect of the Seder meal, the three sheets of bread are usually wrapped in fabric and placed centrally in the table. The middle piece, called the aifkomen is broken and then hidden for the children to go find it. The child that finds it receives a reward. We hid our afikomen for Lil' Bit to hunt, but this little doe-eyed rascal sniffed it out first.

The Haggadah is a long text with many rituals, and while it goes into detail about most rituals, the hiding of the matzo is never specified. It turns out that it is hidden solely for the purpose of waking kids out of their daze from having to sit at the table in prayer for so long. I have to say it worked for Lil' Bit.

As we celebrated our Seder this year, our first at our home, just our little tribe of four, I began to think about the story of Egypt. Three thousand years ago its people stood up against totalitarianism, and with its recent revolution the cycle of history continues. Then it was the Jews, and this year it was Egyptian Christians and the Muslims together planting a slap on face of tyranny.

Matzo, like all feast foods, brings people together. Biblical scholars see Moses, Muhammad, and Jesus as three of God's most powerful prophets on Earth. I think if the three men were here today, they would agree that it would do all of humanity some good to break bread together.

Farmer Lee

2011-04-15T15:31:00.003-04:00

Last week Chef came home giddy from work, which is rare. "Farmer Lee is dining with us tonight!" I began to rack my brain as to who was this Farmer Lee. I know most of the farmers in our county and his name was not ringing any bells. So, I asked.

"Who is Farmer Lee?"

"You don't know who Farmer Lee Jones is? Bow tie, overalls! You know Farmer Lee!"

The iconic imagery definitely triggered some memory, but it wasn't until Chef blurted..."He is a legend, of Chef's Garden! I am more excited to cook for him than I was to cook for Mick Jagger in '96!"

Chef's Garden, I know. Anyone in the restaurant world who gives a rats ass about perfect ingredients knows the Chef's Garden, and you dear readers should be made of aware of what a treasure the little town of Huron, Ohio holds for our nation's culinary world. The mantra of this extraordinary sustainable farm is "growing vegetables slowly and gently in full accord with nature." It is a mission statement that embodies the way all life should be raised. Replace the word veg with "children" and think about it.

There are farms all over this country, that chefs can buy from...so what makes the Jones family farm the top artisan produce grower in the country? They use traditional farming methods to raise heirloom plant varieties while utilizing modern day efficiency and sanitation. It is a combination that is the best of both worlds, balanced and productive...and the fact that it is location on Lake Erie is a veritable Mesopotamia with its rich loamy lake silt soil doesn't hurt either.

Not only can a chef pick from over 600 varieties of heirloom vegetables and edible flowers, but he/she can also select the exact size they want the vegetable harvested. Custom grown veg. Amazing. One thing I noticed as I purused their website is that the word organic isn't sprayed across every page. In fact I didn't see it once. Words like traditional, heirloom, and sustainable fill its pages...which gives it a certain authenticity.

That night at the restaurant we set up a private table in our garden at 29 South for our friend Chef Thomas Tolxdorf and his special guest of honor, Farmer Lee Jones. Chef paid them a visit while he was in between water taxi shifts that evening. We had house guests that week who were dining at The Greyfield Inn on Cumberland Island, and he was their fishing boat chauffeur.

There was a strong northeastern wind blowing that night, which made for a gusty breeze on land, and a rough chop at sea. Chef had a bit of trepidation about his journey and both the farmer and the chef wished him luck.

There is a certain camaraderie between people who live on the coasts of large bodies of water. Huron, Ohio is on Lake Erie, the thirteenth largest lake in the world. The Jones family farm thrives because of this landlocked freshwater sea. My chef's humble garden is flourishing due to our coastal Spring, and I am sure the Chef's Garden is waking up to the fresh season as well.

Coastal farming is as old as agriculture itself, and the fact the the farmer of all farmers, Lee Jones, found his way to a table at our beach town bistro tells me that we are on to something. As exquisitely said in the film Casablanca, "This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Residual Relaxation

2011-04-07T20:10:00.002-04:00

How fast the bliss of a Caribbean vacation fades once you have returned to the grind. I swear the residual relaxation lasted maybe a week. Although, just revisiting some of these photos, like the one above of my weird toes, seemed to drop my blood pressure a notch. This is a daydream post. A daydream where breakfast and dinner are cooked by these handsome gentlemen, Chef Antonio Chin sosa of Tulumchef.com and his sous Benjamin.

A dream where the sun rises at 5:30 am and you don't want to strangle your toddler for waking you before 6 because when you step outside of your house this is what greets you. This and a beach hammock swaying in the morning breeze.

A dream where you throw diets and caution to the wind as you face a plate of this at dinner: Chile Rellenos. Then gobble it down without a second thought.

Followed by flan.

Vacation. I live in a "vacation" hot spot. This little island I call home is swarming with vacationists...I like that term as opposed to "tourists." When I think of tourists I think of garish mass of sweaty people in clothes that are too small, hats that are too big, and cameras dangling from thick sun burned necks.

Tulum is also a vacation destination. The guide books said so, mainly for Europeans...which I saw a few about. But there was a tourist faction not mentioned in the books, mid-westerners. There were two little casitas on the property we stayed that were both rented to mid-westerners, and then on the beach I struck up a conversation with a woman and her staggering toddler on the beach, both of whom also from middle America. I thought about why all these polite, genuine folks from the same region happened to be congregated in this tiny stretch of the Caribbean and I figured for these two reasons: To escape a terrible winter, and to enjoy an affordable slice of paradise.

I am telling you people. Mexico is where it is at. Do yourself a favor and pay our neighbor a visit. You will not be disappointed.

Viva Mexico

2011-03-31T10:23:00.005-04:00

Last week I attempted a blog post. I sat down at my computer on a porch overlooking the Carribean. I pecked out a sentence and looked out at the view above. Then I looked back at my computer screen. Then I looked again to the sea, and I thought "what the hell am I doing on the computer right now when I could be splashing about in that water?" Do you blame me dear readers?

Tulum, Mexico. It is where the Mayans would come to relax and heal, and it is where I decided to retreat to with my family and 8 close friends in celebration of my 30th birthday. Chef, as my gift rented this hideaway...Nah Uxibal "House of Good Energy." A house complete with a chef that cooked for us breakfast and dinner. Here is a taste of how we greeted each day sitting on an open porch with a vista of Del Caribe. Behold Yucatan style huevos rancheros.

We had Javier and Victoria, the caregivers of this little piece of paradise, who cleaned up our terrible toddler beach mess every day. We had hammocks on every porch swaying in the sea breeze, a coral reef at our fingertips, a literal super moon rise every night, and margaritas galore.

When I told people I was going to Mexico for a week they looked at me in horror. "Helloooo...Drug War? Are you crazy? Are you bringing your kids?" My mocking response, "The more drugs the better! And yes, I am bringing my kids!" We traveled to Tulum, a little European tourista hot spot on the Caribbean coast in the state of Quintana Roo far away from the violence of the black market. Over 400 people were murdered in Chicago alone last year, and if I told you that I was going there for a weekend getaway to the windy city to dine at Charlie Trotter's would you look at me with the same shock? My guess is no. Mexico is a giant glorious country, and like gang violence in the US, it is limited to particular regions.

Enough soap boxing.

I heart Mexico. I love it's people, polite and hardworking. I love its food, bright and flavorful. I love its art and expert craftsmanship of ceramics and textiles. I love that it makes for inexpensive travel. We are lucky to have a nation so rich in culture as a neighbor, and such an affordable place to visit. Over the next few weeks I am going to share with you some vibrant morsels of our trip, with the hope that it inspires some of you dear readers to pay this fabulous country a visit.

Spring is officially here! What better way to kick it off than with a margarita recipe...the drink practically emanates sunshine! It was just my luck that one of my best gals from college married a producer/audio engineer and expert mixologist. Chris Barron, margarita guru extraordinaire, juiced 2 to 3 pounds of limes a day to provide the most delicious and authentic margaritas I have ever tasted, and margaritas are a favorite cocktail of mine. This recipe originates from his place of work, Ecco, an extraordinary seasonal eats restaurant that is a must dine when visiting Atlanta (one of Chef and my favs). This is the drink, nestled in the sand at happy hour.

The Ecco Margarita

Ingredients:

2 oz of Herra Durra Blanco Tequilla
0.75 oz of Agave Nectar or Simple Syrup (you can make your own or buy Habama Jarabe Natural)
1.5 oz of fresh squeezed lime juice
1 orange wedge (1/8 of orange) squeezed for juice

Directions:

Add all the ingredients into a shaker
Shake vigorously
Strain and pour over glass of rocks

Go forth this weekend and greet the Spring with this glorious margarita! You will thank me.

Taking Stock

2011-03-17T16:20:00.001-04:00

Whew. I missed you all last week, but it was one of those weeks where I blinked and it was Sunday. I wrapped up cooking all sorts of wonderful soups for my mom, each of which contained the glorious golden broth of the above chicken stock. Ina Garten's recipe, this stock was so chock full of gelatin that when refrigerated it turned to jelly. I left my mom in good spirits, with good food to help nourish her back to good health, in good company, and in good weather.

Spring has arrived in its beautiful shades of green and pops of pink and yellow. Spring and Fall are my favorite seasons, because they are seasons of transition. The air is seems to carry less weight, as if the all the life that is coming or going boosts the oxygen content, lightening the load of the dead of winter or in the case of fall, the slog of the dog days of summer. Spring sneaks up on you, she plays peak-a-boo for a few weeks with her bulbs and blades, and then Bam! She is arrives, quivering with the shimmering youth of baby leaves and bursting buds.

Speaking of shimmering youth, The Sprout turns one today...our little lucky charm. We threw a fish fry for our small frye last Saturday, a whirlwind of seafood, picnic salads, and little toddlers teetering about.

And of course cupcakes. Lovely cupcakes from a new cupcakery that has just opened here. I would have normally baked them myself, but given that I had 48 hours to put together a party for my little darling girl, I cut myself some slack. Glad I did because the chef at Bliss did an exquisite job...don't you think?

This has been the fastest year of my life to date. This Spring, more so than any other, I am feeling the winds of change...my 30th birthday 3 weeks ago probably has something to do with it. This season of new life is a time to take stock and reflect on the end of the past year. As we leave behind the droll days of winter, take a deep breath and hold in all the richness of birth Spring brings as she blooms and let it fill you with seeds of new beginnings. We have a lot to learn from nature, and her annual process of death and rebirth. She has an amazing capacity to let go and move on.

This Saturday I am letting life go and getting my move on...in a little sun dress on a beach in the Caribbean! Chef gave me the most fabulous birthday gift a gal could ask for...he rented a house in Tulum for a week for our little tribe of 4 and a handful of some of my dearest friends to share some time without a care in the world.

I am feeling more than a little lucky this St. Patty's Day!

Do's and Don'ts

2011-03-03T14:56:00.000-05:00

My poor mom, like so many other people who suffer from a digestive disorder, is faced with a list a mile long of stuff she can not eat. Actually it is a few lists...a list of foods that can cause pain. A list of foods that can cause constipation. A list that can cause loose stools. A list of foods that make your poop stink. As if poop can't stink.

I have been scouring cookbooks in search of recipes that exclude the foods on my mothers shit list. The thing is that my mother's disease, Crohn's disease, unlike other digestive disorders, does not have a specific diet. It is a diet of trial and error. If a food makes your stomach feel like it is being impaled on a hot poker, then it is one you should avoid.

It has been tough trying to create a meal around what a person can not eat. So I have decided to take her don't lists and create a do list. I am going to make a master list of foods that are safe for her to eat, and from it find recipes that will fit. Vichyssoise, which I made for her last night, is a keeper.

It is so easy to focus on the negative when you are sick. You feel terrible physically, and your brain often follows. But the old adage, mind over matter, is so true. If you train your brain not to focus on the bad, and instead think of the positive you are more likely to get well.

Science confirms it as fact.

Spirit sings it as a song.

There is an old Irish adage, "Laughter is brightest where food is best." Nourishment for the tummy and soul for ostomy patients...I see a cookbook in the making!

The Mother of All Tummy Aches

2011-02-23T12:14:00.000-05:00

Imagine your digestive enzymes digesting your intestines instead of your food. Your tummy eating your tummy because there are too many enzymes and not enough food to go around. This in a nut shell is the gist of Crohn's Disease, an auto immune disease that my mom has been living with for over 30 years. Last week she underwent emergency surgery to have over 1 foot of her colon removed, also known as a colostomy. Needless to say it has been a wild ride for our family, and has definitely been a reality check of epic proportion.

We were on a quick trip to Atlanta when we got the call Thursday night. We packed the car and the kids up and shot down I 75 to be there to help. I found my mom in the ICU in good spirits, and a lot of pain, with a foot long incision running the length of her abdomen. On the table in her room was the booklet above. You think they could have come up with a better image than a young man downing a hot dog for a post colostomy booklet cover.

My mother's entire adult life has been round after round of terrible steroids and immune suppressants in an effort to avoid this surgery, and at the age of 61 she lost the battle...or you could say that perhaps she is on her way to victory. My grandfather, who suffered from Crohn's as well lived as an invalid for two years, in his 40's before he had part of his large intestine removed. Once the toxic organ was gone his body began to heal and he lived a wonderfully active life.

I have watched my mother suffer with quiet stoicism throughout my entire childhood, moving through life head first like any proper Taurus as a successful lawyer, professor, and strong mother and now it is my greatest hope that she will be able to finally find some relief from the chronic pain she has faced for three decades.

Crohn's disease is passed on through families like a silent plague waiting to strike most folks in their 20's. My great grandmother passed it to my grand dad, who passed it on to 2 of his three kids. So far my brothers and I seem to be in the clear.

But it is not just all in the family. It is mostly prevalent in westernized countries, primarily in North America, effecting 400,000 to 600,000 people...which means there is some sort of environmental factor involved as well. I wonder what?

It is a disease that can go into remission, and then become inflamed again due to stress and other extraneous factors. It can be kept in check through diet relatively well, but it is a miserable diet. Imagine not being able to eat: butter or mayo, raw fruits and vegetables, red meat or pork, spicy foods, whole grains, fried food, or any high fiber foods. What can you eat? Veggies cooked, grilled poultry and fish, some dairy, and lots of refined flour.

My mom would go weeks eating little more than cookies or cake washing it down with a Boost for nutrition. The alternative would be jaw dropping pain as more difficult foods passed through the hot spots in her colon.

I will be caring for her over the next few weeks, and digestion will be on the mind. She will be on a liquid diet for a while, so look forward to some yummy soup recipes. I plan to be a master of the stock pot before this trip is through!

Nectarivore Love

2011-02-15T10:41:00.005-05:00

The Hummingbird Cake I baked Chef for Valentine's Day was a hit. A smash hit. Three layers tall coated in rich cream cheese icing topped with a toasted coconut heart. Perfection. An Art Smith recipe, it called for six ripe bananas, crushed pineapple, chopped pecans, and coconut. I added a teaspoon of coconut extract and almond extract to both the batter and frosting. The batter is made mostly of fruit which makes for a more nourishment than treat, at least that is what I told myself as I shoveled it into my gob.

While making this cake, which by the way you should do as soon as possible, I got to thinking about hummingbirds. Whenever I see a hummingbird they stop me in my tracks. I feel as if I have spotted something special, extraordinary. A friend of ours here has a flowering bush that an endangered species of hummingbird flocks to every year. These hummingbirds are no bigger than a large wasp. You would mistake them for a bug if you didn't take a closer look. That is the thing about hummingbirds, they are so fleeting in their movement that they are easy to miss, even if you are looking. The same could be said about love I suppose.

Being that it was Valentine's Day and sex was on the mind, I began to wonder about hummingbird whoopie. Dirty, I know.

It turns out that fastest way to a lady hummingbird is through her stomach. Their mating ritual begins with a male finding the most beautiful nectar rich flowers, and then he stakes his claim fighting off all other male birds until a lady bird flits into his flower patch looking for a suck. Once she has made her entrance, and fills up on fragrant nectar, the male dances in the air pulling out all his best moves.

Then the love birds get their groove on. Well, I don't know if you could call it a groove, more of a quickie, given that the act only lasts 3 to 5 second. They hump each other, there is no penetration, the sperm is passed in what is called a cloacal kiss. Leave it to a hummingbird to conceive by kissing.

Once the male has scored, he moves on back to the flower patch to prowl for more nookie....the player. While the little mama, pragmatic, gets down to business building a nest. This little love nest is made of grass, hair woven together with strands of spider web and is no bigger than half a golf ball. Over a period of two days, she lays two white eggs, each the size of a single baked bean. She guards her nest from all, including the dead beat daddy. It takes about two weeks for the little beans to incubate and then presto, two new hummingbirds are brought into the world. Their mama feeds them nectar and tiny insects and after a month once their feathers are grown in and they are able to fly, she shoos them away.

Hummingbirds are loners. That is why they are so hard to spot. They only exist in North and South America and are the only bird able to fly backwards. They have the highest metabolism of any animal and are considered nectarivores. Aztecs would wear hummingbird talismans that were thought to draw sexual potency, energy, and vigor.

Imagine being a nectarivore, penetrating flowers for every meal...and having to eat constantly. Why waste time on procreation when you make love to flowers all day long? Just something bright to think about in the final throws of winter!

Walkin' After Midnight

2011-02-10T15:58:00.000-05:00

Last week Chef and I joined a couple on a dinner theater double date. We went to see Taking a Closer Walk with Patsy Cline at the Alhambra Dinner Theater. I love dinner theater, there is something wonderfully retro about it. For those of you who don't know Patsy Cline, you ought to...she is only one of the best female American singers of the twentieth century, which is no small feat considering she tragically died at the peak of her career in a plane crash at the age of 31. Walkin' After Midnight, is definitely one of my top 5 love songs, and since Valentine's Day is coming up I thought this week I would write a bit about love.

There were 3 couples sitting at our table at the Alhambra that evening. Chef and I, our friends Merle and Julian, and a pair of strangers. While we chatted excitedly with our friends over a bottle of wine, the couple to my right barely said a word to each other the first 20 minutes they sat down. She was relatively non-descript, all I remember is her diamond pendant and that she had a pink I-phone. He was bald, clean shaven and wearing a starched yellow shirt. After their strained silence, the man tried to strike up a conversation with his wife about a man standing in the buffet line. ( The buffet, our dining experience is a story unto itself I will share in the future).

"What do you think about that fella over there in the sweater vest? I like that look. It looks nice, but still casual."

"I don't. I think he looks sloppy. Too casual for the theater. I think it is terrible." She squawked back.

"Forget I said anything." He replied.

I kid you not.

I looked over at Merle and Julian, Julian with his arm thrown over the shoulder of his wife of 30 something years, laughing away about something said and thought to myself...bravo. You two know how love is done.

Love is a strange bird don't you think? Flies in and out of our lives. My love flew into my life at a bar. Go figure. Chef and I attended a going-away party for a mutual friend at a favorite local watering hole. We had a brief introduction as is usual at such occasions and then carried on with our evening. Little did I know that he was smitten.

From that day on he rode his bike past that tavern every night for two months to see if I was there. Finally one night he spotted me through the open door. He walked in, strolled up to me at the bar said hello and in the next breath asked "So when am I cooking for you?" Without a second thought I shot back "How about Thursday night?" It was done. Our first date set.

I arrived at his loft apartment on the designated evening and after a tour he poured me a healthy glass of wine. For dinner he served pan roasted scallops with lima bean succotash, pepper-cured pork tenderloin with ginger blackberry preserves, a baby green salad with rice wine vinaigrette, and Earl Gray pots de creme with tempura fried truffles. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I did not really eat pork, so I did it, and after that first bite I never looked back. And the fried truffles...gentlemen out there, if you want to win a woman's heart forever fried chocolate works every time.

Chef did not feast with me, but instead drank wine and watched me eat every last bite. It was a bit unnerving to sit at a table with someone you barely know and have them watch you eat...but I found something attractive about the situation as well. He was so intent on me enjoying the meal, and talking about the food, he was so interested in what I had to say about his craft that I found all the attention strangely flattering.

Lets just say there was much more wine imbibed that evening, more than is healthy. I woke up in the morning fully clothed in his bed with a terrible headache and embarrassed as hell. I assured him I wasn't that type of girl as I rushed out of his apartment. All I remembered aside from the meal is a few brief flashes of me jumping on his bed. Yup. Not that kinda girl.

The rest is history. We are 5 years and 2 kids into a life together, and don't need a reason to celebrate love...but why not? Last year we started a new Valentine's Tradition, I cook him the meal of his choosing and he buys me a pair of plants. Then it was a five course, this year he took pity on me and has requested only 3.

Bib Salad with Green Goddess Dressing

Roasted Eggplant and Sausage Rigatoni

Humming Bird Cake

We will celebrate on Sunday night, because my man works every Valentine's Day. He is usually home from work by midnight, so who knows...maybe we will go walkin'.

Beer Tasting

2011-02-02T14:58:00.004-05:00

I am a beer snob. A major beer snob. If I am going to suck down liquid carbs, then they damn well better be in the form of an excellent brew. Chef and I were recently invited to our first Beer Dinner. A four course beer and food pairing; the beer provided by Intuition Ale Works and the food purveyed from local sources, mainly Black Hog Farm, and crafted by the team at Chew restaurant in downtown Jacksonville. This meal, this extraordinary dinner, knocked our socks off. The menu:

1st Course

a local seafood trio

cured st. augustine snapper, citrus smoked appalachicola oyster, kimchee mayport shrimp ceviche, cauliflower, apple

beer: willow branch wheat

2nd Course

oeufs en meurette

farm egg, potato confit, black hog farm ham, shotgun shack vinaigrette

beer: shotgun shack black rye ale

3rd Course

black hog farm pork belly

house-made sauerkraut, pickled mustard seeds, candied apple gastrique

beer: people's pale ale

4th Course

black hog farm chicken thigh

brussel sprouts, house-made bacon, cauliflower, chicken jus

beer: i-10 i.p.a.

We arrived at this dinner and didn't know a soul other than a gentleman named Allan, a player in the restaurant scene in these parts, who organized the event, and the fellas running the show in the kitchen. Chef and I have two totally different ways of mingling with strangers: I do, and he doesn't. We headed to the bar where beers were lined up for grabs, and grab we did a glass of the willow branch wheat ale.

I love wheat beers. Bright, yet rich and full in flavor. They are also warmer in color, golden. The willow branch wheat glowed, it was almost orange. (The picture above does not do it justice) Wheat beers are usually paired with citrus, so it made a perfect compliment to a seafood course. I have never had local oysters, which was a treat, and the cured snapper was perfection. After the first course it was confirmed, our first beer pairing was going to be exceptional.

Lately I crave poached eggs. There is nothing I love more than yolk running all over my plate. The second course of this meal featured a poached egg which had a dark hue, similar to that of the beer. The beer, Shot Gun Shack rye ale, was a deep brown, almost black. Eating while drinking dark beers is hard for me. Dark brews, like Guiness for example, remind me of gulping a pot roast. I find them so filling I rarely can drink more than 2 pints. The beer served this evening was deceiving. It looked heavy, but was so light to drink with hints of coffee it was genius to pair it with eggs, potatoes, and ham...the perfect hair of the dog breakfast!

The People's Pale Ale. The name itself is brilliant. If there is one type of beer most people will drink it is pale ale. This was paired with pork belly, which in my book you can never go wrong with...but the highlight of this meal were the pickled mustard seeds which topped it and the homemade sauerkraut. I was sitting next to a chef and across from my Chef and let me tell you, these men were gushing like middle school girls over the mustard seeds and kraut.

Last but not least...a chicken thigh followed up by a surprise stout panna cotta for dessert, paired with a delicious i.p.a. . Panna cotta and beer...who knew? Only one of my favorite desserts, a classic, done in a totally original way. It was incredible.

One of the most lovely things about this dinner was that the farmers from Black Hog Farm who provided most of the ingredients were also in attendance. I always feel so lucky when I get to meet the folks who raise the food at any meal, and this young couple was really inspiring.

Heck, this entire meal was really inspiring. Original. It opened my eyes to how beer and flavor profiles work together. Chef and I always seek out dining experiences that change our perception, and this was definitely one to be remembered. The gentlemen in the kitchen at Chew rocked this tasting.

And let me tell you, this beer snob will make her way to Intuition Ale Works sometime in the very near future. I need to learn more about this beer tasting business. Beer is something we tend to take for granted as we slug it down. This meal made me think about beer in an entirely different light. Chef and I are going to have to indulge in a little research and development on this one!

Spooned

2011-01-28T10:16:00.002-05:00

I asked my dear friends at Marisol Spoon a few questions for this week's post. Spoons are an eating utensil, but the word has a definition as a verb that is much more romantic meaning: to make love by caressing, kissing, and talking amorously. It derived this meaning perhaps from the Welsh custom of an engaged man gifting his lady love with an ornately carved spoon. Marisol Spoon is an artist husband and wife team, I have known them now for over a decade and they are an inspiration when it comes to partnership, and art. I just love the little details in the picture above...don't you? Enjoy!

1. Marisol Spoon is the brainchild of two artists from Appalachia. Give us a little background on how Marisol Spoon came to be.

Marisol Spoon began with the idea of creating a children's book. We had been tossing the idea around for quite some time. We roughed out a version of our first book, and the summer of 2009 I began on the illustrations. I was enjoying the painting so much that before I knew it I had 12 completed pieces. We decided it would be fun to open an Etsy shop to see the response to the visuals we had so far. Next thing we know it we have a shop filled with prints, wearable art, stationery, and various other items. So I guess you could say Marisol Spoon has come about in a very organic way.

2. You are a husband and wife artist team. How is it working together...running a cyber mom and pop shop so to speak? How does your collaboration/partnership help your creative process?

For the last 10 or so years we've had separate art careers and bodies of work, which we still continue to build on. But the collaboration of Marisol Spoon has been rewarding in so many ways we never could have expected. We absolutely love working together. We begin by brain storming and looking for inspiration, we bounce ideas off one another and one or both of us draws on the same image until we love what we see. I usually draw the figures and the Mr. adds to it with objects, but that process changes all the time. I do most of the painting and we both design and make the other various objects.

3. Your work is a synthesis of folk and fantasy...vintage yet contemporary, with a dash of kewpie. Where do you draw your inspiration?

From all over really! Art history, 60's and 70's illustration, fairy tales, vintage tea canisters...

4. NYC was your home for the past three years before your return to Asheville, NC. This is a food blog so I have to ask...name your three favorite places to eat in the Big Apple.

Shake Shack -great burgers (I love them and don't even really eat red meat!)
Plump Dumpling - Best dumplings in NYC
Monaco- great prix fix dinners (grilled salmon is divine)

5. You guys are both southerners, which in my book means you know good cookin'. Do you have a favorite family recipe to share?

Well, to be honest we're just now getting into cooking. This isn't a family recipe but one that I tried recently which turned out pretty delicious.

Pumpkin Bread

Serves 8

Ingredients:

1 cup toasted pumpkin seeds
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp salt 2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
pinch nutmeg
2 cups cooked pumpkin
½ cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup sunflower oil
2 large eggs
¾ cup yogurt

Directions:

Preheat oven to 160 degrees.
Toast pumpkin seeds by placing them on a baking tray in a 140 degree oven for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool. Put ½ cup aside to sprinkle on bread.
In a food processor, pulse chop the remaining ½ cup to a course consistency.
Puree pumpkin and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients together.
Stir sugars and pumpkin together.
Process oil and eggs in food processor with a metal blade.
Add dry ingredients, then pumpkin and pulse to blend.
Add yogurt.
Put mixture into an oiled pan.
Bake bread for about 50 minutes or until well browned. Allow to cool in pan.

Soul Food and Snow Angels

2011-01-22T21:28:00.003-05:00

Imagine this dinner party. A chef, a gynecologist, a lawyer, an osteopath, a writer, a billionaire's personal assistant, an Olympian, and three beautiful kids under the age of 10 all sitting around a giant wooden table laden with soul food.

Our trip to Park City, Utah last week was far from your average ski trip mainly due to the exceptional company we kept throughout the vacation, and I will always remember this trip as the time The Sprout first saw snow, and when Lil' Bit made her first snow angel. Snow angels...there is something about spreading out on fresh snow that leaves you with a wide open feeling. Good for the soul.

Ski trips are about three things...snow, skiing, and mealtime. Big breakfasts, lunch on the mountain, and then dinner to feed an army. Every morning Chef dished out a huge breakfast to feed his brothers, father, the kids and I. Eggs, bacon, homemade biscuits, pancakes, sausage...lets just say our low calorie diet was shot to hell on a highway of grease. But that is what ski trips all are about. Waking up early and starting a full day on a full stomach.

Lunch. It was easy to be good on the mountain. Deer Valley Resort is beautiful. Roaring fires in the dining areas, micro brews on tap, and an unexpectedly elegant selection of food at its various stations...at movie theater prices of course. The hit of the week was by far this sandwich, photographed by Chef's brother, Jason. A serious milanesa (Argentine spelling) sandwich, perfect for playing hard on the slopes.

Back to dinner. We had many great meals this trip, but our soul food feast was perfection. Fried chicken, collard greens, fresh biscuits, cornbread, piping hot hoppin' john, and macaroni and cheese good enough to slap your grandma, and for dessert chocolate cake in honor of Chef's birthday. But what made the meal exceptionally wonderful was people that shared it.

You can have an incredible plate of food in front of you, but if your dining partners are no fun then it doesn't matter how good the food is...the meal is going to be a drag. On the other hand, if the food is terrible and the company fabulous then at the very least you are in for good conversation. The Jarrett family who reside in Heber City Utah, were our guests for many a meal this trip, and they brought so much thoughtful energy to our table. The type of folks who give you a hug upon your first introductions.

Dave Jarrett, former Olympian, is now the US Olympic Ski team Nordic Combined Head coach. He loves what he does, and is literally the best in the world at it. Took home three medals for the US in the sport last Olympics, the first time our country has ever medaled in the event's history. His wife Kelly is as lovely as it gets. One of those gals who you immediately connect with because she is so easy going and authentic. We spoke a bit about what it was like to have partners that have turned their passion into their life paths, and what the next step is in our game as mothers as our children grow less dependent.

Now that I have returned to routine of home life from our vacation I have had some time to reflect. It is getting towards the end of the first month of 2011. The year seem to be shaping up to be full of change and growth for us as a family as we consider a move to Atlanta in the summer. While at time life seems to drag (this is mainly due to housework in my case), life is short. Really short. It flies by if you are not watching. If you are not present. We all have a lot to learn from people like Dave and Chef. People that follow their dreams and actually catch them. I imagine it frees you a bit like making a snow angel. Wide open.

Goodbye Citrus, Hello Snow

2011-01-14T15:56:00.000-05:00

I had to walk away from this beautiful bowl of citrus last week as we set forth on our annual ski trip. It was picked by dear friends here locally and given to us during the holidays, and Lil' Bit and I picked our share as well. Grapefruit, tangelos, tangerines, and oranges of every variety. We had three pickle buckets of citrus, most of it went to 29 South and some was of course re-gifted.

Lil' Bit and I delivered a bag of sunshine to our new neighbors from Wisconsin. They in turn juiced the fruit and left a pitcher of fresh juice on our front porch. It was a lovely and unexpected thank you.

Citrus is the most widely grown crop in the world, with Brazil as its numero uno provider of oranges and grapefruits...although Florida citrus is usually 25% heavier than fruits grown outside the state due to thinner peels and more juice.

I wonder if there will be any fruit left in our bowl when we return tomorrow night. I told my wonderful friend and housesitter/zookeeper to enjoy it while we were gone, and given that he had just started a raw food detox it is unlikely there will be. It is okay though, after 8 hours of travel with a 2 year old, a 9 month old, and a ski-torn Chef I think I will be looking for something a little stronger than grapefruit juice when I finally arrive at home sweet home. Something a lot stronger.

Edna Lewis and Tyler Pie

2011-01-05T15:36:00.000-05:00

Chef has 316 cookbooks and counting. They fill this giant shelf and spill out into various lesser shelves throughout our home. For his New Year's resolution, Chef has resolved to make one thing out of every cookbook in his collection. On Saturday, we had the best New Year's Day dinner I have ever eaten, and he closed the meal with a perfect pie recipe from this cookbook.

If you are from the South and do not know Edna Lewis, well don't worry I won't tell anyone...but you better go here and buy this book, The Taste of Country Cooking.

She is the grand dame of southern cooking, an extraordinary woman...and absolutely beautiful don't you think? Her story is fascinating. Edna Regina Lewis was born in 1916 in Freetown, Virginia which was founded by her granddad and 3 other families of freed slaves. Soon 8 more families joined their farming community. Edna grew up in a large family with many generations living under one roof. She ventured from Freetown as a young woman and held a variety of careers, from being a dress maker for Marilyn Monroe to New York City chef with a pheasant farm on the side. In other words...
a bad ass.

Here is a quote from Alice Water's forward in the 30th anniversary edition of her groundbreaking cookbook first published in 1976. "Edna Lewis had an irresistible generosity of spirit. She was far more than the doyenne of Southern cooking. She was, and remains, an inspiration to all of us who are striving to protect both biodiversity and cultural diversity by cooking real food in season and honoring our heritage through the ritual of the table."

Chef chose a recipe from this brilliant woman's cookbook to begin his resolution for the year...which makes perfect sense. Her food philosophy resonates completely with his. Presenting Tyler Pie, our first desert for 2011. Here is the recipe and a little ditty about it from Edna. One of the best things about this cookbook, besides the seasonal food of course, is that it is full of fascinating stories. Make this custard pie. I dare you. You will not be sorry, and it is soooo easy.

Tyler Pie

There are many recipes for Tyler pie or pudding. This recipe has been around Lahore one hundred years, and I suspect it is pretty close to the original, since Tyler was born in Orange County. The women of Freetown each praised the perfection of their Tyler pies. It was served throughout the year along with seasonal pies.

Ingredients:

Pastry for 2 8-inch pie pans (I am not going to include a recipe for this, but I am sure you can find one or make it easy and use store-bought pie crust)

Filling:

4 eggs
2 cups of sugar
1 teaspoon of flour
1 cup (1/2 lb) of slightly melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon lemon extract
2 cups milk

Directions

Chill the pie pastry until you are ready to fill it.
Beat the eggs well.
Mix sugar, flour and salt.
Add sugar mixture to eggs and mix well.
Add in butter, vanilla, and lemon extract. Stir.
Add milk.
After one final stirring pour the mixture into your pie crust pans.
Bake in oven preheated to 350 degrees about 30 to 35 minutes

New Year's Resolve

2010-12-31T14:32:00.000-05:00

I can not believe 2010 is over. It seems like it went by in a flash. I have had more than a few major life changes this year, which is to be expected I suppose given that it is the last year of my 20's. New baby. New book. New blog.

As each New Year approaches we all have the opportunity to set intentions for the year ahead. Intentions to change for the better. Many people poo poo New Year's resolutions, but for me they are essential small term goals that if met will only make me better off.

I may not stay the course all year to meet my resolutions, but like any great procrastinator I usually try to pull it together at the end. Last year one of my and Chef's major resolutions was to loose weight. I think this is a resolution that many of us make every year. This year we actually made a life change in September and made it happen. I have lost all my baby weight since The Sprout's birth in March, and then some...totaling 50 lbs, and Chef has lost 40 lbs and is still dropping. We set our minds to it, stayed the course with the occasional holiday binge, but managed to keep our resolve.

One of the key ways to follow through on a resolution is to create a path or a system to stay on track. This may sound crazy, but for us, the simple act of weighing ourselves everyday...even on days after we had been naughty, was enough to create a lifestyle of mindful weight loss. It is hard to loose weight if you do not monitor how much you weigh! This little realization has changed our lives so much for the better. It takes 5 seconds once a day to do, a small change in our daily routines resulting in a big time life change.

Now that my physical well being is on the right track, I think this year I will focus on my mental health. Recently, I have created a new life skill for myself that allows me the freedom to have a good day even when all aspects of the day point to hell. When I feel stressed to the max, I simply stop what I am doing, take 10 deep breaths and say "It is never too late to start the day over. I am letting go and beginning this day again." Sometimes I have to do this five minutes into my morning, or sometimes at 9 pm at night, doesn't matter when... this mantra works. There is something about approaching life with a clean slate, existentialist as it may sound, that makes for happier living. Carefree, so to speak.

We are having Hoppin' John for dinner tomorrow night...tonight I think a bubbly bottle of Veuve Cliquot gifted to us this holiday season will do just right.

Happy New Year...best of luck to you and your loved ones in 2011...and thank you so much for being here every week. Cheers!

2010-12-23T09:07:00.000-05:00

Two pounds of tuna. 7 whole trout. 20 fillets of wahoo...and a sumatra in an orange tree! We are swimming in fresh caught fish and citrus this holiday week thanks to dear friends and fishermen. One of the definite perks of coastal living. It is a lifestyle I far too often take for granted.

For example, I write this post sitting in a T-shirt on a porch in 70 degree weather in late December. Jealous? Don't be. There is something to be said about a roaring fire on a white Christmas. Oh, but I am grateful.

Grateful is a such a humble word that is easily said, but how often to do we truly feel grateful? It is so easy to get wrapped up in what we can't afford during the holidays. So easy to take for granted all that we have. It seems this time of year people complain about being stressed, and for what reason? What is the reason for the season?

The winter solstice. Which this year coincided with a full lunar eclipse...the first time in over 300 years. It is the day of the year when there is the least amount of sunlight, and darkness reigns. The original pagan holiday that celebrated the solstice was called The Day of the Unconquered Sun. After the solstice, the sun returns and days once again grow longer. The winter solstice occured on December 25th on the Roman calendar adopted by Julius Ceasar, but by today's calendar, which is a little shorter, the solstice is usually on December 21st.

The Bible never specifies the actual date of Jesus's birth, and it was orginally celebrated on many different days by various sects of Christians, but most honored Jesus's birthday on January 6th, Three Kings Day. It was moved to the 25th of December sometime in between 350 and 360 AD in order to reign in the Sun worshipers under the rule of the Christian empire.

Some of the other gods throughout history that share the 25th as a birthday include: Mithras (who celebrated a virgin birth on this day long before Jesus), Bacchus, Adonis, Krishna, Indra, and Osiris...just to name a few. The winter solstice is a popular birthday amongst deities. The gifts under the Christmas tree, mistletoe, and yule log...anything evergreen...were honored on December 25th originally to celebrate the death and resurrection of the God Osiris, also known as Nimrod.

The winter solstice has always been celebrated throughout the millenia by feast and fire, and Christmas is no different. Whether it be the Sun God, or the Son of God people have celebrated December 25th to show their gratitude for the perseverance of light through darkness.

This year my younger brother will be joining us for the holiday. It is the first time I will have seen him since his return from Afganistan in September, and for that I am deeply grateful. I can't wait to toast a big fat glass of Bordeaux to him and then sink my teeth into a perfectly cooked standing rib roast.

I think I am going to start a new tradition this holiday. I am going to light a candle in honor of gratitude, to shed a little light on the true meaning of the holiday. Like ancient people, we need to celebrate light more...sunlight, the light within us...heck I am grateful as hell for electricity! We take so much for granted as Americans, and we all should take a moment this holiday and remember not what we want for Christmas, but what we already have.

What would Jesus do?

2010-12-14T21:33:00.000-05:00

This is the culmination of an entire year of pickles. 15 jars to be exact. As we finished each jar of half sours I cleaned and stowed the jar away for the sole purpose of refilling it with some sort of delectable for the holidays. I love glass jars. There is just something so authentic about them don't you think? Tupperware just doesn't hold the same feeling of substance.

Every year we give edibles for the holidays. This is a simple gift, relatively inexpensive, and folks seem to really enjoy them. Roasted tomatoes, chocolate truffles, homemade ice cream sundae fixings, are some of the yummy treats of years past. Food, good food, is a gift I venture to say all people enjoy.

Speaking of good food, check out this spread....

Now that is a full spread if there ever was such a thing. Lil' Bit, The Sprout, Gan Gan and I went to have tea with Santa at a particularly swanky resort here on the island. The incredible feast of little petifores, mini sandwiches, scones, chocolates, and desserts galore was a low calorie dieters nightmare, but a dream come true for my toddler.

It was the girls' first time sitting on Santa's lap for a picture, and they both kept it together pretty well. The Sprout almost lost it, but the photographer started to jump and frolic about throwing toys in the air. The sight of a grown man in a suit hopping and shrieking shocked her into a half smile for the photo.

As we waited for Santa and Mrs. Claus to read A Night Before Christmas I looked out over the feast of gorgeous handcrafted delicacies and I thought to myself...what are they going to do with all of this beautiful food now that the guests are done. I asked a member of the staff and she said with head lowered "We have to throw it away. Company policy. Sometimes we can take a little "to go" box home."

The woman was obviously ashamed to admit it. Having come from a small country in Central America, I can only imagine how she felt as she dumped all that food into the garbage every weekend from Thanksgiving until Christmas. It is a terrible waste, but the real tragedy is that it was such beautiful food. Food that when you sit in front of it you feel as if you are in the presence of something special, a piece of art. Food that leaves you awestruck because it is specifically crafted to be absolutely splendid in every sense of the word. Food that changes your perception about food.

It says a lot about a culture that throws away huge quantities of food in order to protect certain private interests, while millions of its own people are suffering food insecurity. It is blows the mind. Just thinking about all those little petifores piled up in a black garbage bag is sickening.

I wonder if they would let me come with my pickle jars and fill them to the brim. They would probably have me arrested. They would drag me out of the resort in handcuffs in true Christmas form. I am not a Christian, but I do believe the teachings of Jesus to be about generosity, charity, and peace. Over the next few weeks as we gear up to celebrate his birth story we should really take a hard look at our own culture and ourselves and think about what we can do to better emulate his life's work.

Really, what would Jesus do?

No Walls For The Small Giveaway

2010-12-09T14:29:00.000-05:00

Today is the day! My kid's book is so close to becoming an Amazon Best Seller! It has been unbelievable all the support....I am so blessed it is overwhelming. We are doing a big push to put us over the top, and I need your help!

We all have a kid in our lives that could use a good book right...or maybe know someone with a kid? And we are all scrambling to get our shopping done over the next few weeks...so why not kill two birds with one stone?

If you purchase a copy of No Walls For The Small ($12.99) today, December 9^th, at Amazon.com you will be given $300 worth of Etsy.com coupons! The giveaway is designed to provide a little something for everyone. Some of the gifts available from the partnering Etsy.com shops include:

Artisan wooden house wares
Eco-friendly kids stuff and knitwear
Fabulous, and affordable abstract paintings
Gorgeous handcrafted jewelry and metalwork

Not a bad deal right? The best thing about this event is that 5% of the profits from the sale of the book will go to the Fresh Air Fund, an not-for-profit organization dedicated to giving inner city kids a chance to spend their summers outdoors.

You can check out what is going on here: www.nowallsforthesmall.com

It is so easy, no hassle at all. Just click on the link.

This is a word of mouth giveaway! Do you know some one, friends or family that may be interested in this event? Pass this email announcement along to everyone you know...or just folks with kids and maybe by some small miracle we will make the Amazon Best Seller List today! If you have a Facebook page, or are a Tweeter...please spread the word!

Thanks so much and Happy Holidays!

Nan

Dragonfly Woodwrights

2010-12-08T13:55:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow is a big day for me. My partner in rhyme, Ryan Ford and I launch our No Walls For The Small Amazon Bestseller Giveaway. Neither one of us have ever done anything like this before, but so far so good. The idea is that if buy our book ($12.99) from Amazon.com tomorrow you will get a variety of Etsy.com shop coupons valuing up to $300! Go to our website www.nowallsforthesmall.com and in 3 easy steps you will have a killer kid's book, lots of freebies from some great artists, and all the while donating to a kid's charity.

Anywho, if it was not for this giveaway I never would have had the pleasure of working with a woman who is a carpenter, boat builder, mother, and underwater shark photographer. A real renaissance woman if you ask me. The cutting board pictured above is just a little sample from her Etsy.com shop Dragonfly Woodwrights. May I introduce Margery Bradshaw, a Queen of all trades.

1. How did you get into carpentry? What inspired you to start Dragonfly Woodwrights?

The easy answer is I blame it on my mother. She was always doing something artistic from ceramics, toll painting, stain glass, wood working, etc. We would do it all at the kitchen table. We would stay up all night making art. She ran the Wood Shop at the Newport Naval Base, Newport, RI. I went to the University's of Rhode Island from 1993-1996 for Art, and got my BFA in Photography. In 2004 I was working for United Airlines at TF Green Airport here in RI. I wan unhappy and needed a change. So I applied and was accepted into the International Yacht Restoration School in Newport, RI. And I was hooked on wood again. I started building boats.

Then last January 2010 I was laid off from boat building and started an after school woodworking program at my youngest son's, Xavier, school, Quest Montessori School in Exeter, RI. We built a 21 foot strip kayak. I made some cutting boards for the school raffle and they were well received and some of the parents started asking where they could buy them. Dragonfly WoodWrights was born.

The name Dragonfly comes from my oldest son, Zackarie, we watched the movie Dragonfly which is about a mother and child's connection, since then he always gives me gifts of Dragonfly's so the the name was very easy to come up with. My boys are my inspiration.

2. Wood comes from living things. Is there anything you have learned from working with a medium that has a life of its own?

Yes, that even after its been cut down and turned in to a form of art it still moves. What I mean is the wood will move as the weather changes, it will "cup" or "wrop" as the weather changes. Its fun to watch.

3. Aside from your gorgeous housewares on your Etsy.com site, you are also a wooden boat builder. As a woman you are a pioneer in that field. What has your journey been like carving your path in a male dominated field?

Its been wonderful. I've worked in a few shops were I've been the only women. You have to have thick skin at times and remember your in a man's world, but for the most part everyone has been amazing. I've been able to come up with some unique solutions to problems that the guys never thought of.

4. What advice do you have for people who are purchasing a piece of woodwork? What characteristics make for good quality craftsmanship? Or should I say craftswomanship?

If possible look at it, feel it. You can tell a lot of the quality by the way it feels. If a board is laminated together and you can feel were each piece starts and ends, I would stay away from that board. But if you run your hand over it and it feels like one board, you know its of the highest quality. Creativity and determination make for amazing craftwomenship. You need to be able to see what a piece can look like while its still in the rough.

5. You have two sons, one of which is an Army serviceman and just returned home from Iraq. What is his favorite dish that you cook? Could you share the recipe with us?

My Auntie Pattie Klienfelter's Homemade Mac and Cheese

Ingredients:

1 box of large shells

1 1lb of white Land O Lakes American Cheese

2 Cups of Whole Milk

2 Table spoons of corn starch

1 cup of water

Directions:

1. Cook the shells as normal and set aside

2. Cut the cheese in to small squares

3. In a large pot pour 2 cups of whole milk and warm over a medium heat.

4. Stir continuously while adding the squares of cheese.

5. Once all the cheese is melted, take the two table spoons of corn starch and add them to the 1 cup of water, stir until full mixed then add to the milk and cheese sauce.

6. Stir until it boils and thickens up. Then remove from the heat and pour over the shells. Cover with foil and put in the oven on 400 degrees.

Zackarie likes when there is a nice brown crust on the top!

Hanukkah, Peace

2010-12-02T15:00:00.000-05:00

There is no rest for the holiday weary. Not that I am holiday weary yet, it just seems that since Hanukkah is early this year, started yesterday actually, that there is little breathing room between the last feast day and the next. Not that I am complaining, who doesn't like to feast?

Someone on a low calorie diet that is who, namely Chef and I. We are both loosing weight like mad, but it makes the holiday season somewhat torturous. We indulge when indulgence is due, take last Thursday for example. But Hanukkah is an 8 day holiday, and what is traditionally eaten? Fried Food.

You know the story. Jerusalem was taken by the Syrians, the Jewish holy temple with it, back in 168 B.C.E. The temple was dedicated to the worship of Zeus, and in his honor they often sacrificed pigs. The Jews began to resist the invaders. The resistance began in the village of Modin, where the Syrian High Priest forced the Jewish community to eat pig, which was against their religion because pig was seen as filthy. One young man , Mattahis refused and fled to the mountains where the Jewish resistance movement grew. They revolted, came down from the mountains and took back their temple. In an effort to purify it they lit the menorah, which had a teeny tiny bit of oil. Back in those days it took 8 days of candle light to purify a space, and the little bit of oil lasted just that long.

The oil was considered a miracle, hence the fried food which surrounds the holiday. What better way to celebrate oil than to fry dough or potatoes in? Potato latkes are hands down my favorite holiday food, cranberry sauce a close second. I just had a revelation...latkes and cranberry relish. Sounds like Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing.

The other 7 nights of Hanukkah we will honor oil and peace with a little drizzle of olive oil over a salad or chicken for the grill. Olive oil. Olive branch. Dieting or not, I think we could all do with a little more olive oil in our lives, and peace for that matter.

We live in a nation that is at war. 2 wars. Peace is something that should be on everyone's mind this holiday season, don't you think?

Shalom.

ThankFull

2010-11-22T14:26:00.001-05:00

Thanksgiving is by far one of the best holidays, topped only by Halloween in my humble opinion. It is nothing more than a feast of thanks, literally. In fact in the early days of this nation people had thanksgivings regularly. It wasn't until 1863 that Thanksgiving was made a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln in a proclamation.

This will be our first Thanksgiving as a family of four, and our first as the hosts of the meal. Chef has quite a feast planned. I am making pumpkin pie two ways, pecan bourbon pie, and sweet potato casserole. He has the rest covered...with a dish or three by Gan Gan.

We are doing a little pumpkin pie experiment. We are going to cook a pie from a canned pumpkin filling, then we are going to make one from total scratch using a recipe from Chef Nancy Silverton of the famous La Brea Bakery in Los Angeles. I am putting all bets on Chef Nancy's recipe. While it calls for canned pumpkin we are going to use roasted pumpkin puree. It also calls for sweet potato in addition, and yams make everything better if you ask me.

I think we could do with more national days of Thanksgiving. It might make us a little more thankful for the simple things in life, like real food cooked from scratch...or baby toes and socks with bows if we celebrated thanks more regularly.

We have so much to be thankful for this year. How about you? Anything you are particularly thankful for this year?

Chefs' Table

2010-11-19T13:39:00.000-05:00

Monday is a night off for most chefs in the business. Sundays and Mondays. This past Monday we had a special sort of dinner party. About 2 months ago Chef had the idea to invite a group of chefs from the region for dinner in the garden. Chef is one of those types of people when he gets an idea in his head he immediately sets to action. It is a sort of compulsion, which I believe serves people in his trade well.

The Chefs

Chef Adam Sears of Merge

Chef Sam Efron from Taverna

Chef Tom Gray of Bistro Aix

Chef Jonathan Insetta Orsay and Chew

Chef Thomas Tolxdorf of the Ritz Carlton, Amelia Island

Chef Brian Siebenschuh of Orsay

Chef Karey Raulerson Sottile, executive Sous Chef Orsay

Chef Scott Schwartz of 29 South

Then he got to talking with Tapha Sears, wife of Chef Adam Sears and wine rep for Premiere. They decided to sponsor the event...which made for amazing juice served. So there were some wine folks there, and wherever there are wine folks there are usually smiles.

I began work with Shannon our garden virtuoso in order to make sure things were looking spruced. As Chef talked more about the dinner, the more I wanted to attend. Then it came to light that many of the wives were coming because many of them were partners in business with their husbands, as well as in life. Bravo. The Farm/Garden Coordinator was in.

The Menu

Clam Belly Roll with Meyer Lemon Tartar Sauce

Conner's Farm Mixed Greens with Fried Pig Ears

Heritage Pork Chianti Truffle Sausage with Kale and Homemade Ricotta

Braised Piedmontese Beef Shank on Chestnut Lasagna

Roasted Pears and Figs with Sweet Grass Dairy Cheese, Sweet Wine, and Naked Bee Honey

The meal was provincial and delicious. We ate family style, passing heaping plates around the table. We talked shop, and I got to finally meet the mysterious man my husband calls every night. At 8:45 pm an alarm goes off on Chef's phone, no matter where we are or what we are doing. He picks up his phone, calls 29 South gets an order then immediately calls a man named Jeremy. Jeremy is the rep for Inland Seafood. If Jeremy answers the phone Chef is happy, if he doesn't lets just say Chef is... disgruntled. I had the pleasure of sitting next to Jeremy during dinner, and it was nice to finally put a face on a phone call. This is him on the left, and throughout the evening he was receiving calls from all over the region from other chefs placing their nightly orders.

At the end of the meal we all agreed this is something we need to do regularly. Northeast Florida is not exactly the epicenter of the culinary arts in this country, but I venture to say we are a diamond in the rough thanks to these people, and it was a pleasure getting to know the folks behind the food.

Puerto Rico

2010-11-11T16:04:00.000-05:00

The Sprout has sprouted a chomper. Lil' Bit is pooping for chocolate. Chef is on a diet...and I thought my head was going to implode yesterday. Life has been more than full lately, and ever since I stopped nursing my mental state has been far from balanced.

Yes, I stopped nursing. I know, I should really nurse for a full year. The thing is I went to Puerto Rico for 3 days and when I returned The Sprout was so acclimated to the bottle I just didn't see the point in reintroducing the boob for another 4 months, only to wean her again. And to be honest, and I say this with a twinge of guilt, it has been nice to have my body back to myself.

I went to Puerto Rico in celebration of one of my best girlfriend's 30th birthday. It was 4 women pushing 30, tons of rum and sun, and a hotel with a casino.

We hiked in the rain forest and went swimming in a waterfall.

We went horseback riding on the beach.

We played craps and slots, but they don't let you take pictures in the casino.

We did a lot of eating. Here is a run down of some of our more memorable meals.

We had breakfast at La Bombonera one of the oldest restaurants in Old San Juan, to eat mallorcas and have coffee. Mallorcas are spanish pastries dusted in powdered sugar. I had mine with egg, cheese, and bacon sandwiched between it and it was divine. The restaurant was listed as super authentic, and as an old diner it has a lovely charm. But Rachel Ray had eaten there on her $40 a Day travel show, and when we walked in they handed us little Food Network cards with her face grinning up at us, which immediately detracted from the ambiance...if you know what I mean.

Another great regional food we tried there was called mofongo. It is mashed plantains served in a bowl with something on top of them, like pork or beef. Many times it is served in a soup as well. If you are ever in Puerto Rico go for the mofongo, if not for the fact that it is fun just to say out loud. Mofongo.

The best meal we had was at Dragonfly. It is a seafood/latin fusion restaurant and the dinner was extraordinary. One of the highlights of the meal was the truffle infused tuna tar tar served over a sushi roll. It was amazing. The only thing that put a damper on the evening was the real estate lawyer who interrupted our meal to hit on us, and the sad fact that the birthday girl had been stung by a terrible jellyfish just hours before.

It was tragic. We were enjoying ourselves during a late afternoon Caribbean swim. Four tipsy gals bobbing along the beautiful briny sea. When all of a sudden the birthday girl let out a yelp. She had been stung and tentacles were still trapped in her monokini. We dashed out of the ocean in immediate crisis mode. The victim was lead upstairs by one girl, the other grabbed our stuff from the beach, and I set off to the poolside bar for vinegar.

An entire gallon of vinegar later...the most expensive vinegar we have ever purchased at $30 a gallon from room service, mind you, did little to alleviate the burning. So we all chipped in and tried to drink the pain away.

In the immortal words of Stevie Wonder...that's what friends are for.

On a totally different note, I just launched a new blog in honor of my upcoming kid's book which is going to hit the virtual shelves of Amazon come December 9th...if all goes as planned. Please, swing by if you get a chance. http://www.nowallsforthesmall.com/blog.html

Great Balls of Fire

2010-11-04T14:46:00.001-04:00

You see this grill. Well, it almost burned my face off. Literally. It was a normal Tuesday evening. Chef was at work. The Sprout had gone to bed. And Lil' Bit and I were getting ready for dinner.

I had turned the grill on to warm up for 15 minutes. I traipsed back into the kitchen to season the chicken breasts we would have that evening. I brought the meat out to cook and the dang thing was no longer lit. Like a total moron, paying no attention to the fact that the gas had been running at full force under the closed lid, I hit the starter button and WHOOMPH!

A giant fireball came flying out of the grill into my face. It was like something out of the movie Backdraft. As fast as the fire engulfed me, it disappeared and I was left there breathless holding my raw chicken breasts. It took me a moment to realize that I was okay...that in fact my face had not been torched. My eyebrows were still there. I stood there and looked into my living room window at my little girl sprawled out on the floor with the dogs and the most terrible though entered my mind. What if I had caught fire? My two year old would be the only person home to help me...and would undoubtedly be scarred for life from the experience.

From 2003-2006 there was an average of 7,900 fires at residences related to grilling...and 10 deaths. Across America, 3 out of every 4 households have grills. So I suppose since there is 307 million Americans and 75% of them have grills, 10 deaths over the course of 3 years is minor statistic.

I love the grill. There are no dishes involved. It is sooo easy. You get to cook outdoors and there is just something that really resonates with me in a primitive way when I cook over a fire. I will not let its recent explosive outburst deter me.

Tonight we will eat steak, grilled to perfection.

Trick or Treat

2010-10-29T12:10:00.000-04:00

Love Halloween. Love costumes. Love sweets. Love pranks. Love pumpkins. Love spooky anything. October 31st is my favorite holiday. Last year I delved into the history of the jack-o-lantern. This year I thought I would touch on the heritage of Halloween itself.

There are many different traditions from the past that have contributed to the evolution of Halloween, but for today I am going to focus on the Celtic history. The word Halloween is derived from the Scottish phrase, All-Hallows-Even. It is thought that Halloween evolved from the ancient festival of Samuin which honored the end of the long days of summer and the start of the drawn out darkness of winter months. The Celts thought that the barrier between our world and the Otherworld, or underworld, was lifted on Samuin (pronounced sow-in)...allowing souls of the dead to return to earth.

Like the Day of the Dead, families would welcome their ancestral spirits into their homes, at least the family members they wanted to spend time with. People would wear costumes in an effort to disguise themselves as terrifying spirits to ward off the souls of those unsavory relatives and friends we all wish to avoid during the holidays.

They would take stock of their food stores for winter on Samuin and in honor of the upcoming darkness great bonfires were lit in each home, while all other fires were extinguished. Some families...when they were feeling particularly daring...would build two bonfires next to each other and then walk between them, with their livestock as a sort of cleansing ritual. I wonder what my neighbors would think if I staged a bonfire cleansing ritual in the yard? Probably wouldn't go over so well. Chef would probably have me committed.

Trick or treating evolved from a tradition in the Middle Ages called souling. Impoverished people would go door to door and receive food in exchange for praying for the dead on All Souls Day (Nov. 2). Trick or treating is actually ritual begging. If food was not given, then sometimes the poor folk would take wagon wheels or whatever they could find to teach the greedy hoarders a lesson.

So what are my little beggars going to be this year? Lil' Bit is going to be "Super Girl!" She had her costume on yesterday and was saddened when she realized that just wearing a cape would not make her fly. The Sprout is going to be a hotdog...one of the more frightening foods commonly available. Me...I am wavering between pirate and cat, and Chef said he was going to be a chef, but I told him that doesn't count.

Dress up. Trick. Treat. Enjoy yourself this weekend! Happy Halloween!

Small Farms, Big Ideas: Naked Bee Honey

2010-10-20T13:47:00.028-04:00

Honey and butter on a hot fluffy biscuit. It is a combination that I venture to say most people on this earth would find comforting and utterly delicious. Whenever I have brunch at 29 South I order a plate first thing...the perfect appetizer to wash down with a cup of coffee. What makes this little bread plate exceptional is the local honey. Naked Bee Honey Farm, owned by artists and artisans Gayle Prevatt and Enzo Torcoletti, make some of the best honey I have ever tasted.

I feel like we have a lot to learn from bees, yet I find myself nervous whenever I find one around me. What better way to confront a fear of an unknown than to learn about it...so I thought I would ask Gayle a few questions to gain a little insight into the world of bees..

What sparked you and your husband's interest in beekeeping? How did you get into the craft?

For many years I had the hobby of finding and planting different and unusual varieties of citrus trees and a few other fruit trees. I would research each variety to see when it bloomed, bore fruit and its particular characteristics. The process of discovery is such a pleasure! After some years, I realized that the trees should be bearing fruit and alas, there was none. And so began the discovery of the absolute need of bees for the pollination of fruit trees and the subsequent finding of a beekeeper willing to sell me a hive and encourage me along. That was more than ten years ago.

Is there a season for honey?

The beauty and harmony of nature is truly the most wonderous gift of the universe. The spring season arrives with the blooming of wild trees beginning with the swamp maples in December in North Florida. This is quickly followed by wild fruiting trees such as the mayhaw and plum and then the first cultivated fruit trees, the pears begin to bloom. Other trees wish to join the party and so festoon themselves with delicate blossoms and spicy scents wafting through the air. And who can slumber in winter doldrums through all this....not the honeybees! From the maple blossoms through the palmetto in late May or early June, they only take a break in February while waiting for the next trees to come out! Mid summer is hot and often dry like this year, so the honeybees hang out on the back porch and tell tales. If the August rains come, then there are beautiful fall blossoms of goldenrod, ironweed, spanish needles and a myrad of other wildflowers to help the bees tuck in stores for the winter. And then it is back to the homefront for them, safe with their golden stores of fuel to see them through the cold until one day in December the scarlet flags of new growth in the woods signals once more the earth and sun desire to transfer their energy in the form of sugary delicious nutrients through the soil up into the tips of the living Maple....

What types of flowers do your bees enjoy?
The honeybees I care for enjoy wild persimmon, wild cherry, pear, a variety of citrus, holly, blueberry, palmetto and black gum tupelo in the spring. In the fall they like spanish needles, ironweed, golden raintree, wild oregano and most of the yellow wildflowers.

Can you describe the process of extracting the honey?

To bring the honey to the table, I gently pull a few frames of honey from the top of the beehive, and bring it to a horizontal box upon which rests a notched device to hold the frame without disturbing the contents. With a serrated knife, I slip the blade just under the surface of the wax covering the delicious honey and remove it, flip and repeat. Four such frames are place vertically into a hand cranked vertical stainless steel extractor. The frames must be spun, stopped and flipped to repeat, then left in place for awhile to drip. There is a valve at the bottom of the extractor from which to collect this nectar. I usually place a simple stainless steel strainer under this in a food safe bucket to catch the bits of wax which may come loose. There! Thats all there is to it! A beautiful and wholesome harvest of one of nature's marvels! Before the invention of the centrifucal spinner about a hundred and twenty-five years ago, people would simply eat the honey together with the wax or place the combs into a light cloth and squeeze to extract the honey. Very time consuming!

How do you keep your bees from mingling with wild bees?

Honeybees are family oriented! They may enjoy flying out to see what the day has to offer but they don't keep it to themselves, they load up with pollen and nectar and take it home to share with their family members. Always! They may pass other bees or share some particularly wonderful flowers while out but they always go home at the end of the day or when they have loaded up with goodies! Wild bees do this too. We could learn alot. p.s. They've been around this earth a lot longer than us.

Have the bees taught you anything unexpected?

As far as learning new things from the bees, I really do learn new things everyday. I must be alert and present when around these active creatures and watch them so as to see how to behave that day. What are they telling me about the weather? Are they content or is something bothering them? I have to move at the same speed as they are working or they become irritated. I must be sure they have enough to eat and a fresh source of water every day. It really forces me to pay attention to what the day (and the season) is offering. Before working with honeybees, I didnt realize how all incompassing the seasons really are and how they affect everything that all living things do and how we and other living things feel as the earth and sun turn in relation to the universe. Anyone who thinks they are not so engaged is fooling themselves and is missing out by not waking up and enjoying active, awake participation.

I couldn't agree with Gayle more! If you want to learn more...or sample this lovely honey go to www.moultriecreek.com

Cooking with Italian Grandmothers

2010-10-14T19:38:00.000-04:00

Last night at 29 South we joined farm to table restaurants across the country in celebration of the debut of Cooking with Italian Grandmothers by Jessica Theroux. It is a beautiful book...part travel diary, part photo essay, part cookbook. Jessica is a chef based out of San Francisco and she was rewarded a grant to travel Italy and collect the recipes of its matriarchs. I am sure it was a grueling experience...amazing food, gorgeous landscapes, and extraordinary women. I can't think of a better way to spend a year of one's life.

Grandmothers are the bards of a region's culinary heritage. It is from them that the traditional foods are passed down through the generations. It was an honor to be apart of this national event. We sold every book, and took orders for more. It was a wonderful evening...4 courses of traditional Italian dishes, each meticulously paired with a delicious wine is hard to beat. Chef went above and beyond. I will let the pictures speak for themselves. Here are some of the highlights of the meal.

Antipasto

Proscuitto with Roasted Peaches and Arugula

Crostini with Chicken Livers and Cipollini

Primo

Rigatoni with Spicy Eggplant and Pignoli

Chianti Brased Veal Cheeks on Chestnut Lasagna

Secondo

Hen Braised with Olives on Creamy Polenta

The other choices for the 3rd course were

Roasted Catch on Truffled White Beans

Wild Boar Sausage on Kale and Ricotta

Dolce

Roasted Forelle Pear with Naked Bee Honey and Pecorino

Lemon Crostata with Olive and Truffle Ice Cream

Bravo Chef!

Sow Seeds

2010-10-07T20:56:00.000-04:00

I love the dichotomy of fall. While certain plants are preparing for winter, a glorious transformation of decay, others are being born from seed. At the 29 South garden we started our winter seedlings and are looking forward to a great cool weather crop. I was introduced to an amazing new heirloom seed catalogue, Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, and am thrilled with the new varieties of veggies we are going to try this season.

Here is a just a little taste of what we plan to have in our garden:
Dragon Carrots (seeds pictured above)
Turga Parsnips
Lacinato Blue Kale
Veronica Romanesco
Carentan leek
Albino Beet
Val D' Orges Butterhead Lettuce
Morris Heading Collards
French Breakfast Radishes
There is much much more, but I hate to bore you.

What I find the most beautiful about fall is the air and the light. You know what it is like...the first time each year you feel fall in the air. It practically happens overnight. You wake up one morning, step outside and everything seems a bit warmer in color, but the air is cool and crisp. Each breath you take of fall air has a certain freshness about it...a certain clarity that washes away the haze of summer.

This is a fall in which we all have planted a seed of life change. Lil' Bit has begun ballet lessons, which has taken cuteness to an entirely new level. She loves to dance, and it is wonderful to watch her confidence bloom as she traipses around in her tutu. The Sprout is crawling, and mobility has given her a new sense of adventure, much to my dismay, and she is also exploring her palette as she tries new foods. Chef has recently joined the abbreviated world of Twitter delving into all it has to offer, and I have self published my first kids' book with my dear friend and artist Ryan Ford. It will be available this holiday season on Amazon and I will be sure to keep you posted on our launch date.

With every end there is a beginning. Fall is a season that embodies the best of both. Happy Fall!

Good Life Quest # 12 / Plant a Seed

Fall is a wonderful time to knock out the one thing you promised yourself you would get done this year that you just haven't made the time for...clean out that closet or start taking long walks everyday. Whatever it may be, take a nice deep breath, clear your head and plant your seed.

Total Recall

2010-09-29T13:46:00.000-04:00

Last week, around 9 pm, I received a text from my friend, neighbor, and fellow mommy Janalle. "In case you are using formula, certain Simulac has been recalled."

I had just started giving The Sprout a bottle of formula a day just 2 weeks before in preparation for a trip to Puerto Rico in October. I wanted her to get used to the formula in the bottle before going out of town, and organic Simulac was the brand I decided to go with. Within minutes of receiving that text I was online typing in the product number of the formula.

I thought to myself..."Surely their organic product is not contaminated..." but alas, I was wrong. In big red letters the website told me that their organic formula had been recalled and that I needed to discontinue use immediately. My heart sank. I felt sick to my stomach. Guilt swept over me. My poor baby had been drinking something that could have made her ill. I felt like a failure in a small way.

A factory in Michigan that made the formula had been infested with beetles and 5 million containers of formula were being recalled because they had bug parts and larvae in them, which when ingested could irritate an infants GI track. It is a mother's nightmare to know that they had been giving their child something that could harm them. Nightmare.

How does a factory that produces food for infants become infested with beetles? How the hell did 5 million containers of formula hit the shelves before this infestation was even noticed? What the hell does this say about the FDA and government health inspectors? You would think that corporations feeding our nations most vulnerable citizens would be held to a far higher standard.

I began to think about the employee that found the infestation. It must have been a terrifying experience, because for there to be enough bugs to contaminate such a huge number of products there must have been millions of bugs crawling all over that factory.

I thought this week I would make a list of all the food recalls that have occured in the USA this year alone. Then I started to research and realized that for me to list all the food that has been recalled within the past 8 months would take me ages. It is shocking. There are recalls of food here in the USA every week it seems. I will list a few just to give you an idea:

8/7/2120: Valley Meat recalls approx. 1 million lbs of frozen ground beef patties and bulk ground beef products for possible E. coli contamination.

7/20/2010: Perdue Farms recalls approx. 91,872 lbs of frozen chicken nugget products that may contain foreign materials. (what the hell does that mean? Are they riddled with Italian leather or something? You would be surprised how may recalls I found have to do with "foreign materials" in our food.)

6/18/2010: Campbell Soup Supply Company is recalling 15 million lbs of SpaghettiOs with Meatballs due to under-processing CLASS 1 RECALL, HEALTH RISK HIGH

5/15/2010: Sampco Inc is recalling 87,000 lbs of beef due to animal drug contaminant - a deworming drug called Ivermectin

Do you notice a trend? Almost all of the recalls have to do with meat. What is most shocking to me is how under reported this information is...I mean 15 million lbs of SpaghettiO's with meatballs...a class 1 recall. Didn't hear a word about it...and it is a food marketed to children.

This just validates how as a nation we need to support our local farmers, people who cherish the food they raise and grow, rather than buying our food from heartless factory farms. Join the Slow Food Movement, hit up your farmers markets, buy local.

If you want to know more about recalls check out http://www.fsis.usda.gov/fsis_recalls/open_federal_cases/index.asp
or if you just want to freak yourself out next time you are looking at the rows of raw meat at the grocery store the weekly recall updates will surely do the trick.

BYOBB

2010-09-23T15:45:00.000-04:00

Bring your own baby and beverage. That is what BYOBB stands for literally, but our weekly mommy group means so much more. Every Wednesday I have anywhere from 2 to 7 moms and their little chicks over to my house for happy hour. Wednesday is the "hump" day of the week and it is the perfect day to take a break from the whirlwind of motherhood, have a drink, and vent.

And oh do we vent. We talk about our kids, we talk about our spouses, we talk about out uteruses, we talk about whatever it is that we need to get off our chests. We are a mix of women...from late 20's to early 40's and we are bound by the wild experience of being new mothers.

Being a new mother this day in age is not easy. In our culture, most of us do not live with extended family...or anywhere near our family. While generations before us had aunties and grandmothers to build a village to raise our children, today we are isolated...and it is through friendship we find our little tribes that give us the support we need.

At BYOBB there is always a snack for the kids...a fruit of some sort, and always booze for the moms...and something non alcoholic for those with another bun in the oven. The last gathering Kate, mother of two adorable little fellas brought Tom Collins fixings to add to the 3 half full bottles of wine I had set out. At BYOBB we are far from booze hounds, but lets just say...we don't mess around.

If it is warm out, I set up the kiddie pool on the porch, pull out some beach chairs and let the kids splash it out while we hash it out. Water is such an awesome toy for little ones. It isn't something they can't easily hoard or fight over...which gives us moms a chance to shoot the breeze without having to break up toddler snatch attacks.

If it is ugly out we move the party inside. This particular BYOBB there was an offering made to our garden Buddha.

Making time to unwind is hard for parents, and this little weekday get together gives both mom and the kiddos time to let loose a little bit. I think taking a little time to unwind on "hump day" is probably a healthy practice for anyone, not just mamas. So often we wait until the weekend to let go, but it is in the middle of the week that we need a break the most.

Good Life Quest # 11 / Hump Day Happiness

Pick an up coming Wednesday and take a little time to unwind. Do something out of your normal routine, something you save for the weekends. Maybe grab a drink with a friend after work, or go for a hike. Whatever it may be...see if you notice a difference in your world during the last 2 day push before the weekend. Do it for your own sanity.

More Mouths to Feed

2010-09-16T13:26:00.000-04:00

2 babies. 2 dogs. 2 cats. And now 2 fish. Every day I am responsible for making sure all these creatures are fed. The babies, dogs, and cats are relentless in their yearning for meal time. The babies cry. The dogs hound me and nip at my heals. But our fish Ponyo and Poopy wait silently until I happen past their tank and sprinkle a little food in.

Ponyo and Poopy were Lil' Bit's gift for her second birthday. I begged Chef not to get them. "I have enough to deal with already. You can only get them if you promise to be the one to clean their tank." Guess who cleaned the tank last? Lets just say it was not Chef.

Lil' Bit named the goldfish...Ponyo after her favorite animation character and Poopy because every time we see the fish it seems to be defecating.

We went out of town for almost two weeks in August and when we returned Poopy was twice the size as Ponyo. At first I thought perhaps they were over fed, but both fish would have gained weight. Now we think perhaps that Poopy is in fact a girl and that she is pregnant, which would make Ponyo a boy. These things are hard to tell with fish.

I have a terrible history with feeding fish. About seven years ago my uncle who raises koi asked me to feed his fish while he and my aunt were on vacation. He has a beautiful little pond at his house full of lily pads and vibrant koi. Koi, like most larger fish, eat pelleted food. The instructions were simple. Take a scoop of food out of the bucket and toss it in the pond once a day. I diligently fed the fish every morning, so they would have full bellies for the day. It was a beautiful and peaceful ritual that I enjoyed, no chore about it.

It all went smoothly until 2 days before their return. I went over in the early morning hours like usual and to my horror all of my uncle's gorgeous koi, that he had bred and raised himself, were floating belly up amongst the lilly pads in the soft morning light. Total massacre. It is an image that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I thought for sure it was me who killed them, given that they were left in my stewardship. It turned out that something happened with the pump in the pond and they did not have enough oxygen. So, I was off the hook so to speak...but I still felt terrible.

I am a Pisces so at the risk of sounding terribly New Age, I have a certain affinity towards fish. Even though I resent having two more mouths to feed at home in a day, I love to watch out fish swirl about their little tank. I find it relaxing, although I do feel little guilty that they are trapped in there for the rest of their lives with only little stinky red flakes of food to eat. At least they have each other, Ponyo and Poopy...and perhaps one day they will have a family.

Goldfish love to eat their babies. They loooove the taste of their fry...the little cannibals. I have no idea what I am going to tell Lil' Bit if Poopy has babies and then eats them. "She wanted to keep her babies in her tummy because they tickle." That is the best I can come up with. I hope she buys it.

Shana Tova

2010-09-09T21:20:00.001-04:00

I grew up attending private schools in South Florida. Every year the Jewish students would get certain days off while us gentiles had to drudge through class. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, was the first of the holidays that my friends had to celebrate while I spent the day at school. As a child I never knew what Rosh Hashanah was exactly, but I liked how it sounded. Rosh Hashanah...say it a few times. It has a nice ring to it.

When Chef and I first started dating and Rosh Hashanah rolled around I decided to make a traditional Jewish meal to celebrate the holiday. I had no idea what I was celebrating so I googled it and printed up pages of information about the holiday and the symbolism of the food eaten. The Jewish New Year, like most Jewish holidays revolves around culinary tradition. I made brisket, his Aunt Elaine's apple kugel, stuffed cabbage with buffalo meat ( I have no idea why I used buffalo, it is probably the only chemical free meat I could find at the grocery store). I pulled out all the stops. I wanted to show his family that this shiksa meant business.

One of the most beautiful things about the Rosh Hashanah meal is the Challah bread. I mean look at this loaf above, isn't it just gorgeous. For this holiday, Challah is a round shape, in honor of the cycle of the celebrated year.

We started the meal with a prayer and the breaking of the bread. I do not know Hebrew, but I love the rhythm it carries as as language. Lil' Bit watched Chef and repeated the prayer word for word before shouting "Shana Tova" (happy new year) in a toast of Blackberry Manischewitz. "Mani" as many members of the Tribe warmly refer to it, is a wine that is kosher, blessed by the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America and it tastes like melted popsicles.

Next course was the mother of of all Jewish comfort foods...Matzah Ball Soup. Lil' Bit was weirded out by the doughy balls. She had me remove them and then proceeded to take her little bowl in her hands and drink the broth down.

Chef and I had a sort of kitchen relay in preparing our main course, stuffed cabbage. Earlier in the day while the ladies were sleeping I made the sauce and the stuffing. When he came home from work he cooked the cabbage leaves, stuffed them and cooked them off. We used Ina Garten's recipe, but replaced the ground chuck with ground turkey. This picture does not do them justice...they are actually utterly delicious, very easy to make, inexpensive, and perfect for a cold weather meal.

For dessert...apples and honey. Well, not for Chef. Apples are lethal to my old man. Apples and honey symbolize a "sweet year." The tradition comes from medieval times, but the phrase "sweet year" seems more like contemporary surf lingo if you ask me.

"Sweet year, man. Sweeeet year."