at large

Brunch : Pancakes with Apple, Walnuts and Brie

2011-11-12T14:22:00.001-05:00

This one was so easy, I could make it while half-asleep. Dice up a couple of apples and toss into a saucepan with a pat of butter, a cup of water, a teaspoon of Chinese five-spice powder, and two tablespoons of brown sugar. Cook over medium heat until the apples become soft and mushy. If the mixture becomes too dry during the process, add more water to keep it from burning/sticking.

When the apples reach the desired consistency, prepare pancakes according to package directions. If you're one of those talented people who can make pancakes from scratch, knock yourself out.

To assemble the dish, top one pancake with a few chunks of brie, a spoonful of the mushy apple, and a small sprinkle of chopped walnuts. Place another pancake on top and repeat. Keep going as high as you dare (I stopped at 4 pancakes) and serve with real maple syrup.

After consuming, lick the maple syrup off your lips as you gently slip into a pancake coma.

When life hands you lemons.. or rather, when life hands you overcooked tuna

2011-08-25T22:49:00.000-04:00

I planned to make a lovely Asian-themed meal the other night: soba noodle and edamame salad with ponzu dressing, topped with ruby-red slices of barely seared tuna, crusted with sesame, poppy and mustard seeds. Well, the salad was perfect, but thanks to a myriad of electronic distractions, I managed to overcook the tuna. It wasn't burned or anything, it just ended up fully cooked, rather than seared, and was not at all suitable for the application I had in mind.

So, we enjoyed the salad by itself, while I grumbled about messing up a recipe that I'd prepared successfully many times before, and contemplated what to do with all that tuna. The solution - Asian tuna salad! I just shredded the tuna, seeds and all, mixed it with mayo, wasabi paste, and a bit of chopped radish for crunch, and the result was utterly divine!

Easily the tastiest food mishap that I've ever had!

Sorry there are no pictures. I had to tuck it way back in the fridge to hide it from myself. If I were to unwrap it now, I would just scarf down the entire bowl in a matter of seconds.

Dinner : Pumpkin and Corn Soup

2011-03-27T21:33:00.000-04:00

This is so simple and quick. Ideal for a chilly evening.

In a large, heavy pot, sautee a few handfuls of diced onion, carrot and celery, and a couple of minced garlic cloves, with a few sprigs of thyme. Keep track of how many thyme sprigs you put in, since you'll need to fish them out later on. When the vegetables have softened, add 2 or 3 cups of diced pumpkin, preferably the West Indian variety (sometimes called calabaza in North American markets), and pour in some stock, or water to just cover the vegetables. Add salt to taste.

Cover and simmer until the pumpkin is soft. If the mixture becomes too dry, add more water or stock, being careful to only just cover the vegetables, since you don't want the finished product to be too runny. Remove the sprigs of thyme and puree the soup with a stick blender, or in a regular blender until smooth. Add a bag of frozen corn kernels to the soup and continue to cook until the corn is heated through. Serve with some crusty bread.

Notes:
You can add a dash of your favourite hot pepper sauce near the end of cooking to spice things up a bit.
If you don't have a stick blender, or any blender for that matter, it's perfectly fine to have this soup chunky.

This Bud's For You

2011-03-20T18:10:00.000-04:00

Spring has sprung! And with it, comes the promise of renewal. Springtime always makes me feel hopeful, and stirs thoughts of unexplored potential. It's a time to scrape away the debris of a long, cold, and exceptionally brutal winter, and show our new faces to the world.

Today, a weight loss milestone, a reassurance that my efforts of the past 6 months have not gone unrewarded, and encouragement to go forward. To spring forward!

Today's magic number : 49.6

Dinner : Salmon with Fennel Salad

2011-02-02T23:48:00.000-05:00

This dish has loads of flavour payoff for very little effort. Right up my alley.

Season 2 salmon fillets with salt and pepper, dust with flour and sautee, in olive oil, in a non-stick pan over medium-high heat for 2 to 3 minutes per side, depending on thickness.

Remove salmon from pan and wrap in foil to keep warm. Add a handful of cherry tomatoes to the pan, along with, the juice of half a lemon and a splash of white wine. Cover and simmer until all the tomatoes pop. Add a tablespoon of capers, cover and cook for another minute. Remove from heat.

Thinly slice a fennel bulb, and toss with the juice of an orange, a tablespoon of olive oil and a bit of salt and pepper. Toss the fennel mixture with a couple handfuls of fresh salad greens (arugula or mixed greens)

Serve the salmon topped with the tomato-caper sauce, alongside the fennel and mixed green salad.

Dinner : Merguez Burgers with Greek Salad

2010-11-14T19:07:00.000-05:00

For the burgers, combine a pound of ground lamb with about a tablespoon of each of the following : ground fennel, ground cumin, ground coriander. Add 3 minced garlic cloves, 2 tablespoons of harissa and a tiny pinch of cinnamon. Form into four patties and grill for about 3 minutes per side for medium rare. Serve on toasted burger rolls or English muffins.

For the salad, place the following ingredients in a large bowl : peeled and diced cucumber, diced tomato, pitted and minced kalamata olives, diced red onion, a dash of dried oregano, minced fresh parsley and crumbled feta. Add a few splashes of olive oil and red wine vinegar and a pinch of salt. Toss to combine, serve on a bed of fresh baby spinach.

Lapsed Athlete

2010-10-12T22:24:00.000-04:00

Today was my first workout in almost a week, and I was dreading it. Last week, in the throes of a mysterious bout of exhaustion, I decided to forgo my Zumba class in favour of getting to bed really early and getting some sleep. And sleep I did, for almost 24 hours, getting up only to use the bathroom, and eat a couple of bowls of soup. And after a frantic Friday spent catching up on my backlog at work, I was grateful for the long Columbus Day weekend, most of which I spent in bed, in a near-comatose state.

You would think that I would have leaped from my bed this morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to take on the world. But alas, my tail was not the least bit bushy, in fact, it was dragging. It dragged all day, impervious to all the caffeine I consumed and all the internal motivational speeches I gave myself. I forced myself to the gym tonight, and pounded out my hour on the treadmill, fighting all the way.

I'd like to thank my fellow gym-members for not calling the guys with the butterfly nets to come get me, as I cursed, grumbled and begged myself not to quit, while visions of fluffy pillows and plush blankets danced in my head. Even after I left the gym, I continued to grumble still, as I slogged through the grocery shopping, and shoved some randomly selected food items into the oven (not at all sure how that little experiment is going to turn out).

But hey, if I've got enough energy to do all this complaining, I can't be that tired, right? I guess I'm making progress..

Today's magic number : 59

Dinner : Ghost Pepper Chili

2010-10-10T19:43:00.000-04:00

In a large, heavy pan over medium-high heat, soften a large chopped onion, some minced garlic and a chopped green pepper. Add 2 pounds of ground meat (I used a mixture of beef and lamb), salt, a tablespoon of ground cumin, a tablespoon of paprika, 3 or 4 tablespoons of chili powder and 1/2 teaspoon of ghost pepper flakes. Stir, breaking up any lumps with a spoon, until the meat is browned.

Add an 8 oz. can of tomato sauce, and the same amount of water and simmer, covered, until the meat is tender. Then add 2 cups of butternut squash cut into 1/2 inch cubes, and a 29 oz. can of black beans (drained and rinsed), cover and simmer until the squash is cooked through. If you find the chili becoming too dry and in danger of scorching during the simmering process, add some water (or beer if you're feeling wild). Serve over brown rice and top as desired with sour cream or Greek yogurt, shredded cheddar, sliced scallion, diced fresh tomato, etc.

Warning:
Ghost pepper is the hottest pepper in the world, and if you're not sure how you will react to it, add just 1/4 teaspoon at first. If you find that it's not fiery enough for your taste, add some more in very small increments and allow time for the flavours to permeate the chili before tasting again. The heat can be very mild a few seconds after you add the flakes yet you may find that 10 minutes down the line, you're stuck with an incendiary, inedible mess, so please proceed with caution!

Dinner : Pork Chops with Whole Wheat Pasta and Broccoli

2010-10-09T17:46:00.000-04:00

Cook some whole wheat pasta in boiling salted water, remove from heat and drain while still slightly undercooked. While the pasta is cooking, season some thin-sliced pork chops with Italian seasoning, salt and pepper. Cook in a bit of olive oil, in a non-stick pan over medium-high heat for about 2 minutes per side. Remove the pork chops and set aside. Add fresh broccoli to the same pan and cook for about 5 minutes. Then add the drained pasta and a 15oz. can of diced tomatoes and cook until the pasta and has reached the desired texture. Serve the pasta mixture topped with the pork chops.

If you have any leftovers, this is great the next day as a pasta salad (dice the leftover pork chops and mix in with the pasta). Tastes delicious hot or cold.

Some Like it Hot

2010-10-02T21:11:00.000-04:00

It all started out as a rather ordinary Saturday afternoon, as my sweetie and I decided to take advantage of one of the long-standing seasonal events in our area, and made our way to the Chile Pepper Fiesta at the Brookyn Botanic Garden. Knowing that the fiesta is usually very popular regardless of the weather, we decided to get an early start, in order to avoid the inevitable crowds. This turned out to be a wise move, as we were greeted not only by an entrance free of lines snaking around the block, but also by the lovely Pepper Sisters (later christened Belle Pepper and Holly Peño by the loopy MC at the main music stage).

As far as sweetie was concerned, our first order of business was to secure some Brooklyn Chili and a good spot on the lawn, both of which were accomplished with minimal fuss, since the gardens were still fairly empty at this point.

We lay around on the lawn enjoying what turned out to be a wonderfully warm day, listening to all the great music and clearing our sinuses with some fiery chili, then after an hour or so we decided to venture into the music tent to get a closer look at the band on stage, the fabulous Red Baraat. It was at this point that our afternoon took a turn for the bizarre!

One of the MCs was making his way through the crowd and he approached my sweetie with a large plastic bucket, and asked him if he was willing to simply hold on to it for a while until they asked for it during their intermission show. It seemed like a reasonable request, but of course my curious eye continued to follow the man as he continued through the crowd, handing out buckets. And even though the spectators were a very mixed bag indeed, he seemed to be selecting a certain 'type' for this bucket-minding duty : young, tall, athletic-looking men. I began to suspect that he had a bit more in mind than simply collecting the buckets from these men and proceeding with his show, and I anticipated that there was something far more interesting in store for my sweetie than what he had in mind, so I did what any good girlfriend would have done - I kept my mouth shut!

A few minutes later, my silence was rewarded as I witnessed a hilarious demonstration of a 'trust exercise' starring my darling (first man on the left) and three other unsuspecting young men. Please forgive the shaky video, as it's very difficult to hold a camera steady when you're doubled over with laughter.

Needless to say, being recruited to perform some acrobatic stunts with a group of strangers while a couple of fire-eating clowns perch above you is not what you expect from your ordinary Saturday afternoon. But lately, Saturday afternoons don't seem to be very ordinary around here, and I'm quite grateful for that!

My New Besties

2010-09-27T13:42:00.001-04:00

They say that exercise is often easier when you do it with friends. Well, since I began this regimen I've had the constant company of two new riding partners: disappointment and pain.

The first one shows up bright and early every morning when I get on the scale. In spite of my seemingly endless hours on the treadmill over the past three weeks, the numbers are agonizingly slow to change. And while I am well aware that the daily weighings are only meant as reinforcement of my goal, I can't help but feel a bit downtrodden when I come face to face with the snail's pace of my progress (which, on some days, is measured in negative numbers).

My other new buddy is with me day and night, distracting me from work and tormenting me in my sleep. Every joint in my body feels like it's filled with broken glass. My muscles throb and spasm. My body doesn't like exercise, it wants to remain still and sofa-bound, and the ongoing assault is being met with angry and persistent protests.

I'm being told by many of my supporters that this is going to get easier and more fun, at some point. Let's just hope that happens before I lose my mind and send these two miscreants friend requests on Facebook.

Today's magic number : 59.8

Dinner : Shrimp and Summer Vegetable Stew

2010-09-21T22:42:00.000-04:00

In a large non-stick pan over medium heat, sautee some minced garlic in a bit of olive oil, add juice of one lemon and cook for about a minute. Add a package of frozen corn kernels, a diced red pepper and three small zucchini, diced. Season with salt and pepper, and stir in a couple handfuls of minced basil. Cover and cook until vegetables begin to soften. Mix in about a pound of fresh jumbo shrimp (shelled and cleaned). Cover and simmer until shrimp is cooked through.

Serve with some crusty bread to soak up the juices.

Dinner : Turkey Scallopini with Caprese Salad

2010-09-19T21:36:00.000-04:00

For the salad, combine halved (or quartered, depending on the size) cherry tomatoes, diced fresh mozzarella and minced fresh basil in a large bowl with a dressing of olive oil, salt and pepper. Allow to sit for 10 or 15 minutes before serving, so that the flavours can combine.

For the scallopini, season thin-sliced turkey cutlets with salt and pepper, dust with flour and cook in a couple of teaspoons of olive oil, in a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. They will take about 2 minutes on each side. Remove the turkey from the pan and add a small handful of capers, a few tablespoons of red wine vinegar, a handful of chopped fresh parsley and a couple tablespoons of butter. When the butter is fully melted, pour the sauce over the turkey to serve.

ps
I forgot to add the parsley to the sauce before I took the picture.

After the Storm

2010-09-18T19:38:00.001-04:00

I headed to Prospect Park today for the first time since last weekend, partly to break up the gym monotony, and partly to survey the damage wrought by the tornado (yikes!) that touched down in my neighbourhood two days ago. The cleanup efforts were in full swing, and the roadway was entirely clear, but off the roads, there was still evidence of heavy damage, jagged tree stumps and torn branches among the grass and shrubbery.

Towards the end of my walk came the most heartbreaking scene of all, this massive tree, torn up at the roots. I was one of the many who stopped in their tracks at the sight of this fallen giant, in awe of the destruction and havoc that seemingly came out of nowhere. I've never considered myself to be the tree-hugging type, but I truly felt for this one. Once the majestic king of the hill, and now a hulking mass of debris. Talk about a dose of perspective!

and by the way
Today's magic number : 60.6 lbs

Magic Number

2010-09-16T13:20:00.000-04:00

So I weighed myself this morning (I've decided I'm going to do it every day, if I can) and I'm not happy. Mind you, it would be completely irrational of me to expect any weight-loss at all, since I was sidelined for most of last week with a nasty cold. But I was kind of hoping against hope, and feeling that just wanting it bad enough would be enough to make it so. Okay, that is completely irrational, but I never claimed to be the embodiment of logic.

I was also debating whether or not I should include my weight in my 'shape up' posts. I honestly don't think I can, because the number scares me, shames me, and angers me all at once. Even as I type this, I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. So instead, I will just state how far I have yet to go. After all, it's more important that I focus on where I want to be, rather than where I am. Because where I am is not a good place at all.

So what's the magic number today? 63.4lbs

Dinner : Chicken and Vegetable Soup

2010-09-14T10:21:00.000-04:00

By popular demand (okay so two people asked for the recipe), here's how last night's soup came together.

In a large pot over medium heat, sautee a large onion (chopped) in a tablespoon of oil, add a couple handfuls of chopped carrots and chopped green pepper. Sprinkle in some chopped fresh thyme. Add two whole chicken legs - leg and thigh portion with skin removed, salt and pepper. Pour in 4 cups of chicken broth and any additional water needed to cover the chicken. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer and cook, covered, until chicken is tender (about 1/2 hour).

Remove the chicken from the pot and shred the meat with a fork. Return the meat to the pot and discard the bones. Add a package of frozen corn kernels, a package of frozen sliced okra, one chopped zucchini and one chopped yellow squash. Simmer until the veggies are tender.

Dinner : Whole Wheat Pasta with White Beans, Zucchini and Yellow Squash

2010-09-12T21:16:00.000-04:00

Add whole wheat pasta to boiling salted water and cook according to package instructions. While pasta is cooking, sautee a few minced cloves of garlic in some olive oil, add a sliced zucchini and a sliced yellow squash and the zest of a lemon. When the vegetables begin to soften, add 1/2 small can of white beans (rinsed and drained). Puree the other 1/2 can of rinsed beans with the juice of the lemon, a few leaves of basil, olive oil and water to a creamy consistency.

Add the puree to the vegetables, season with salt and pepper and cook until heated through.

Toss with cooked pasta and top with grated parmesan cheese.

Dinner : Skirt Steak with Chimichurri Sauce, Twice-Cooked Potatoes and Bocconcini

2010-09-11T23:04:00.000-04:00

Chimichurri sauce : combine the following in a food processor -
4 large garlic cloves
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 to 3/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
3/4 teaspoon salt

I suggest you play with the proportions until you achieve a taste you like. The mixture should be spicy and salty with a bit of tang.

Marinate flank steak in a few tablespoons of the sauce for about 30 minutes. While the steak is marinating, halve some small waxy potatoes and place in a pan with cold water to cover. Add a liberal amount of salt, bring to a boil and simmer until potatoes are just tender. Remove from water and immediately toss with a tiny bit of olive oil then place in a medium-hot grill pan for about 3 minutes (so that grill marks appear and cut surfaces become slightly crispy). Keep warm until ready to serve.

Cook flank steaks in a medium hot grill pan for about 3 to 4 minutes on each side, depending on the thickness of the meat and level of doneness required.

Slice steaks across the grain and serve on a bed of salad greens with potatoes and torn or shredded pieces of bocconcini. Drizzle a bit more chimichurri on top.

Leftover chimichurri will keep for a few days in the fridge, and can be served with fish, chicken, eggs or veggies.

Dinner : Pork Chops and Roasted Peach Salad

2010-09-09T21:33:00.000-04:00

Thin-sliced pork chops marinated in a pureed mixture of peach, red onion, garlic, salt, pepper and olive oil for about an hour. The marinade was then scraped off and discarded, and the pork chops seared over medium-high heat for about 2 minutes on each side.

Sliced peaches and red onion tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper and sauteed over medium-high heat until carmelized to your liking. While still hot, toss with crumbled blue cheese and place atop a bed of arugula. Sprinkle with chopped pecans. I didn't use any additional dressing, but if you choose to, I recommend keeping it as simple as possible, since the dish already has a few strong flavours.

I used a non-stick pan, and no additional oil for cooking.

Cruel and Unusual

2010-09-09T11:47:00.002-04:00

I was awash in a sea of sweat, my face was beet-red and swollen, and my breath came in ragged, high pitched, wheezing spurts. My body burned from head to toe and my feet and legs were in spasm with painful cramps. You ask what kind of horrific torture would leave me in such a state - I can answer with a single word:

ZUMBA!

The Best Laid Plans

2010-09-07T21:54:00.000-04:00

Today I decided to get back on the horse. Well, actually I decided a long time ago, but I've only just been able to work up the will-power to get back into an exercise routine. And being no stranger to falling off said horse (usually very early on in the race) I took the necessary precautions to be sure I would have no excuses: lots of hydration during the day, filling but nutritious meals and snacks, gear all laid out in a neat little pile so that I wouldn't spend a half-hour turning my closet upside down looking for something to wear.

But you know how the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men blah, blah, blah.

Halfway through my well-planned day, an annoying stomach bug decided to stop by for a visit. I didn't have a plan for this, and the lesser me would have abandoned all hope of a workout, in favour of an evening spent on a comfy sofa. But somewhere along the way, the lesser me had lost her voice, and the me that is fighting for her health, her sanity and her waistline decided to step up. And step I did. Slowly and painfully, the blocks went by, and then one mile, and then another. It wasn't as far as I'd hoped to go, but it was far enough.

What's the plan for tomorrow? I honestly haven't thought that far ahead. I guess I'd better get to it!

The Kiddies Bring the Bling!

2010-09-04T21:13:00.009-04:00

Today I dragged my sweetie out of bed at the crack of noon so that we could catch the last few hours of the Brooklyn Children's Carnival. My struggle was greatly rewarded, since the kids seem to have stepped up their game quite a bit. We were treated to band after band of wonderfully costumed children, some of them decked out in enough bling and feathers to easily rival their adult counterparts.

Sadly, I neglected to charge my camera battery, so I was only able to get a few shots before the device gave up the ghost. I hope you enjoy them!

The Lurker

2010-09-03T10:52:00.001-04:00

I was going to start by announcing that I am back. But the truth is, I never really went away. I've been hanging about, haunting my own blog, mulling over posts-in-progress that hang in limbo, waiting to be born, or to be put out of their misery.

I think I'd rather be saddled with a case of writer's block, instead of being in this position of having so much to say that I don't know where to start, and once I get going, not knowing how to finish.

I suppose sharing these thoughts is a first step. Let's see if other steps will follow.

Rocket Man!

2009-11-29T12:12:00.002-05:00

Space Coast Marathon 2009
Finishing time : 3:16:48

CONGRATULATIONS SWEETIE!!!

Sent using AT&T Xpress Mail

Friday Night Wine Down : Vinho Verde

2009-08-06T23:39:00.003-04:00

Featured wine: Vinho Verde

Wikipedia description:
Vinho Verde is a Portuguese wine from the Minho region in the far north of the country. The name literally means "Green Wine", referring to its youthful freshness rather than its color. About 11% of production is exported, almost all of which is white wine. The main export markets are France, the United States, and Germany, followed by Angola, Canada, and the United Kingdom. The region is characterized by its many small growers, which numbered more than 60,000 as of 2005. Many of these growers train their vines high off the ground, up trees, fences, and even telephone poles so that they can cultivate vegetable crops below the vines that their families may use as a food source.

The Vinhos Verdes are light and fresh, and are intended to be drunk within a year. At less than one bar of CO2 pressure, they do not quite qualify as semi-sparkling wines but do have a definite pétillance. The white Vinho Verde is very fresh, due its natural acidity, with fruity and floral aromas that depend on the grape variety. The white wines are lemon- or straw-coloured, around 9 to 11% alcohol, and are made from local grape varieties Loureiro, Arinto, Trajadura, Avesso and Azal. Vinho Alvarinho is made from Alvarinho grapes, from a small designated sub-region of Monção. It has more alcohol (11.5 to 14%) and ripe tropical aromas. The reds are deep red and tannic, and are mostly made from Vinhão, Borraçal and Amaral grapes. The rosés are very fresh and fruity, usually made from Espadeiro and Padeiro grapes.

I've tasted:
Mapreco (Portugal) $6.95
Gazela (Portugal) $8.99
Broadbent (Portugal) $9.99
Casal Garcia (Portugal) $7.99

Food pairings:
calamari
clams
crab
fish
mussels
salad
sardines

Notes:
As you can see from the food pairings, seafood is the order of the day when having this wine, but you could also enjoy it with other light picnic fare. It also goes nicely with lemon/lime and garlic flavours, so Asian food is a good option as well. The slight effervescent quality of vinho verde makes it a good match for lightly fried, or slightly oily foods, so go ahead and experiment with the flavours of summer.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Viognier

2009-07-29T13:31:00.007-04:00

Featured wine: Viognier

Wikipedia description:
Viognier (vee-ohn-yay) is a white wine grape. It is the only permitted grape for the French wine Condrieu in the Rhone valley.

Viognier wines are well-known for their floral aromas, due to terpenes, which are also found in Muscat and Riesling wines. There are also many other powerful flower and fruit aromas which can be perceived in these wines depending on where they were grown, the weather conditions and how old the vines were. Although some of these wines, especially those from old vines and the late-harvest wines, are suitable for aging, most are intended to be consumed young. Viogniers more than three years old tend to lose many of the floral aromas that make this wine unique. Aging these wines will often yield a very crisp drinking wine which is almost completely flat in the nose. The color and the aroma of the wine suggest a sweet wine but Viognier wines are predominantly dry, although sweet late-harvest dessert wines have been made. It is a grape with low acidity; it is sometimes used to soften wines made predominantly with the red Syrah grape. In addition to its softening qualities the grape also adds a stabilizing agent and enhanced perfume to the red wine.

I've tasted:
Smoking Loon (United States, California) $8.99
Cline (United States, California) $10.99
Brooklyn Oenology (United States, New York) $18.49

Food pairings:
Asian/Indian/Thai food

butter sauces

cheese

cream based sauces

curries

fish and seafood

lobster

nuts

roast pork

veal

smoked fish

Notes:
I must admit that it took me a while to warm up to Viognier. I was a bit put off by the floral aroma, which mimicked a feeling of sweetness on my tongue (I'm not a fan of dessert wines). To combat this sensation, I prefer to drink this wine very cold, and with spicy food, which plays well against the aromatic nature of Viognier.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Shiraz/Syrah

2009-07-24T10:07:00.004-04:00

Featured wine: Shiraz/Syrah

Wikipedia description:

Syrah is a dark-skinned grape grown throughout the world and used primarily to produce powerful red wines. Syrahs enjoy great popularity in the marketplace, relatively often under the name Shiraz.

Syrah is used as a varietal and blended into other wines. Following several years of strong planting, Syrah was estimated in 2004 to be the world's 7th most grown grape at 142,600 hectares (352,000 acres).

DNA profiling in 1999 found Syrah to be the offspring of two obscure grapes from southeastern France, Dureza and Mondeuse Blanche. It should not be confused with Petite Sirah, a synonym for Durif, a cross of Syrah with Peloursin dating from 1880.

I've tasted:

Indaba (South Africa, Western Cape) $7.95

Yellow Tail (Australia) $6.99

Yellow Tail Shiraz-Cabernet Blend (Australia) $6.99

Black Opal (Australia) $14.99

Food pairings:

barbecue

cheese (aged and/or hard)

chili

duck

grilled meat or vegetables

hamburgers

lamb

steak

grilled tuna

venison

Notes:

Nobody really knows why this particular grape goes by two names. It's commonly called Shiraz in Australia and South Africa, but is generally known by its 'old-world' name Syrah in the rest of the world. Either way you spell it, this wine is a nice accompaniment to grilled or barbecued meats and vegetables. Lovely with burgers or a steak, it's the perfect thing to grab and go when you're invited to an impromptu backyard gathering - no chilling required.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Gewürztraminer

2009-07-14T17:24:00.014-04:00

Featured wine: Gewürztraminer

Nickname: Gewürz

Wikipedia description:

Gewürztraminer is an aromatic wine grape variety that performs best in cooler climates. It is sometimes referred to colloquially as Gewürz, and in French it is written Gewurztraminer (without the umlaut). Gewürztraminer is a variety with a pink to red skin colour, which makes it a "white wine grape" as opposed to the blue to black-skinned varieties commonly referred to as "red wine grapes". The variety has high natural sugar and the wines are white and usually off-dry, with a flamboyant bouquet of lychees. Indeed, Gewürztraminer and lychees share the same odorant compounds. Dry Gewürztraminers may also have aromas of roses, passion fruit and floral notes. It is not uncommon to notice some spritz (fine bubbles on the inside of the glass).

Its aromatic flavours make Gewürztraminer one of the few wines that are suitable for drinking with Asian cuisine. It goes well with Hirtenkäse, Münster cheese, and fleshy, fatty (oily) wild game. Smoked salmon is a particularly good match.

I've tasted:

Hogue (United States, Washington) $9.99

Trimbach (France, Alsace) $18.99

Covey Run (United States, Washington) $8.95

Food pairings:

asian food (spicy)

cheese (strong and/or soft)

chinese food

curries

tropical fruit

ginger

ham

cinnamon

indian food

sweet onions

duck

smoked food

sausage

Notes:

Gewürztraminer holds a special place in my heart, being the very first wine I ever bought for the purpose of pairing with food. I was spurred on by David Rosengarten, the self-taught chef, author, restaurant critic, and host of one of the very earliest Food TV cooking shows Taste. I watched, spellbound, as he assembled a lovely choucroute garnie, an insanely delicious Alsatian dish made with sauerkraut, potatatoes, and pork in every imaginable form, which he paired with an Alsatian Gewürztraminer. Not yet being confident enough to undertake a choucroute, I decided to pair this wine with a shrimp curry, which Mr. Rosesengarten also recommended as an accompaniment to Gewürz. I was quite impressed with myself, and Mr. Rosengarten, to say the least!

Since then, I've managed to produce many plates of choucroute, curry (both Caribbean and Asian), and lots of other tasty treats to go with my Gewürz. I hope you enjoy this wonderfully aromatic and food-friendly wine with as many great meals as I have.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Chenin Blanc

2009-07-05T18:28:00.005-04:00

Featured wine: Chenin Blanc

Nickname: Steen (in South Africa)

Wikipedia description:
Chenin blanc (also Pineau de la Loire and Gout fort), is a variety of white wine grape from the Loire valley of France. Its high acidity means it can be used to make everything from sparkling wines to well-balanced dessert wines, although it can produce very bland, neutral wines if the vine's natural vigour is not controlled. Outside the Loire it is found in most of the New World wine regions; it is the most widely planted variety in South Africa, where it is also known as Steen.

Chenin blanc (or simply Chenin) is a particularly versatile grape that is used to make dry white wines, sparkling wines, dessert wines and brandy. It provides a fairly neutral palate for the expression of terroir, vintage variation and the winemaker's treatment.

In cool areas the juice is sweet but high in acid with a full-bodied fruity varietal palate. In the unreliable summers of northern France, the acidity of underripe grapes was often masked with chaptalization (the addition of sugar before fermentation to increase alcohol content) with unsatisfactory results, whereas now the less ripe grapes are made into popular sparkling wines such as Crémant de Loire. The white wines of Anjou are perhaps the best expression of Chenin as a dry wine, with flavours of quince and apples. In nearby Vouvray they aim for an off-dry style, developing honey and floral characteristics with age. In the best vintages the grapes can be left on the vines to develop noble rot, producing an intense, viscous dessert wine which will improve considerably with age.

I've tasted:
Koopmanskloof (South Africa) $9.95
KWV Steen (South Africa) $8.99
Indaba (South Africa) $5.99

Food pairings:
asian food
seafood (especially sauteed and/or with lemon)
smoked fish
fried foods
spicy food
vegetables
roast pork

Notes:
Chenin Blanc is another grape that lends itself to a wide variety of interpretations. I tend to enjoy the dry and citrusy styles most common in South Africa, but I've been told that this grape also makes lovely dessert wines as well. I think it makes an excellent match with many of my favourite Caribbean foods - jerk pork, curry shrimp, stewed chicken, etc., so it will certainly be a frequent and welcome addition to my dinner table year-round.

Cheers!

Man Does Not Live by Wine Alone

2009-07-04T14:16:00.006-04:00

As you may have deduced, the holiday weekend's activities have pre-empted the weekly Wine Down session. However, I managed to squeeze in a trip to the local greenmarket. The offerings were not only tasty and fragrant, but rather photogenic.

This may be your only serving of vegetables on this hot-dog, hamburger and barbeque filled day, so I hope you enjoy.

Happy 4th of July!

Sweet red peppers.

These strawberries smelled divine.

Fish was going really fast (making a mental note to get there earlier next time).

Almost too pretty to eat. Almost!

I figured it would have been rude of me to totally ignore the wine.

Zucchini and yellow squash.

Garlic scapes. Possibly my favourite summer veggie.

Friday Night Wine Down : Chardonnay

2009-06-23T16:02:00.008-04:00

Featured wine: Chardonnay

Wikipedia description:
Chardonnay is a green-skinned grape variety used to make white wine. It is believed to have originated in the Burgundy wine region of eastern France but is now grown wherever wine is produced, from England to New Zealand.

For new and developing wine regions, growing Chardonnay is seen as a "rite of passage" and an easy segue into the international wine market. The Chardonnay grape itself is very neutral, with many of the flavors commonly associated with the grape being derived from such influences as terroir and oak. It is vinified in many different styles, from the elegant, "flinty" wines of Chablis to rich, buttery Meursaults and New World wines with tropical fruit flavors.

Chardonnay is an important component of many sparkling wines around the world, including Champagne. A peak in popularity in the late 1980s gave way to a backlash among those wine drinkers who saw the grape as a leading negative component of the globalization of wine. Nonetheless, it remains one of the most widely-planted grape varieties, with over 400,000 acres (175,000 hectares) worldwide, second only to Airén among white wine grapes and planted in more wine regions than any other grape – including Cabernet Sauvignon.

I've tasted:
Hobnob (France) $9.49
Smoking Loon (United States, California) $10.95
SalmonRun (United States, New York) $11.49
Fat Bastard (France) $11.79
Yellow Tail (Australia) $7.99

Food pairings:

avocado

butter or cream sauces

creamy goat or sheep's milk cheeses

chicken

shellfish

ham

salmon

tropical fruits

pasta/risotto

seafood with rich sauces

Avoid chiles, cilanto, tomato sauces and dill

Notes:

Being a relatively neutral grape, Chardonnay styles can vary tremendously from one producer/region to another. I was first exposed to chardonnay in the 80s, when the heavily oaked California style was becoming quite popular. I found this style to be rather unpleasant to drink on its own, and not at all food-friendly, and as a result, Chardonnay fell to the bottom of my list for quite some time.

Fortunately for me, the pendulum is swinging the other way, and the less manipulated, lighter tasting, steel-aged Chardonnays are gaining in popularity. I particularly enjoy it with lobster ravioli in a cream sauce, or sauteed scallops.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Rosé

2009-06-18T20:42:00.004-04:00

Featured wine: Rosé (Rosado, Rosato)

Wikipedia description:
A rosé (From French: rosé, ‘pinkish’) wine has some of the color typical of a red wine, but only enough to turn it pink. The pink color can range from a pale orange to a vivid near-purple, depending on the grapes and wine making techniques.

There are three major ways to produce rosé wine.
skin contact
The first is used when rosé wine is the primary product. Red-skinned grapes are crushed and the skins are allowed to remain in contact with the juice for a short period, typically two or three days. The grapes are then pressed, and the skins are discarded rather than left in contact throughout fermentation (as with red wine making). The skins contain much of the strongly flavored tannin and other compounds, which leaves the taste more similar to a white wine. The longer that the skins are left in contact with the juice, the more intense the color of the final wine.
Saignée
Rosé wine can be produced as a by-product of red wine fermentation using a technique known as Saignée, or bleeding the vats. When a winemaker desires to impart more tannin and color to a red wine, some of the pink juice from the must can be removed at an early stage. The red wine remaining in the vats is intensified as a result of the bleeding, because the volume of juice in the must is reduced, and the must involved in the maceration is concentrated. The pink juice that is removed can be fermented separately to produce rosé.
Blending
Blending, the simple mixing of red wine to a white to impart color, is uncommon. This method is discouraged in most wine growing regions except for Champagne. Even in Champagne, several high-end producers do not use this method but rather the saignée method.

I've tasted:
Il Mimo Rosato (Italy) $15.49
Sur de los Andes, Rosado Malbec (Argentina) $9.95
Ombra Rose di Pino - sparkling rose (Italy) $14.99
Big House Pink (California) $10.95
Wolffer Rose (Long Island, New York) $12.95

Food pairings:
Anchovies
Barbecue
Charcuterie
Crab (boiled or steamed)
Eggs
Fish
Pizza
Pork
Seafood
Turkey
Veal
Vegetables

Notes:
Because it can be made from so many different grapes and methods, there is a tremendous variety of rosé on the market. At one local wine shop I counted over 20 different offerings today. This is another wonderful summer wine, but I find that it can be enjoyed year-round with just about any food. One of my favourites is the Il Mimo, which has grown in popularity (and price) over the years. The Ombra is another that I enjoy regularly. I goes nicely with sushi and turns any ordinary weeknight meal into a celebration. Cream sauces and oysters don't play very will with rosé, but just about everything else does. Try it with roast chicken, with fish 'n' chips, with a dinner omelette, with a picnic in the park. It really is an everything wine.

Cheers!

Friday Night Wine Down : Grüner Veltliner

2009-06-06T16:03:00.008-04:00

Featured wine: Grüner Veltliner

Nickname: Gru-Vee

Wikipedia description:
Grüner Veltliner is a variety of white wine grape widely grown primarily in Austria and widely also in the Czech Republic, but almost nowhere else. It has a reputation of being a particularly food-friendly wine – notably, it is the classic pairing for the otherwise hard-to-pair asparagus..

..The steep, Rhine-like vineyards of the Danube west of Vienna produce very pure, minerally Grüner Veltliners intended for laying down. Down in the plains, citrus and peach flavours are more apparent, with spicy notes of pepper and sometimes tobacco.

I've tasted:
Grooner (Kremstal Niederosterreich, Austria) $9.99
Berger (Kremstal Niederosterreich, Austria) $12.99
Grun (Austria) $11.99
Gustav (Wachau, Austria) $12.99

Food pairings:
Artichokes
Asparagus
Rich, fatty cheeses
Fish
Lobster
Pork
Poultry
Scallops
Sushi
Thai food
Veal Wiener Schitzel

Similar wines:
Sauvignon Blanc
Pino Grigio

Notes:
I first discovered Gruner last summer when my sweetie came home with a giant bottle of Berger. Of course, the first thing that struck me was the size of the bottle (1L), since we rarely go for the super-size options. The other thing that stood out with this particular brand was the bottle-cap (yes, like on a beer bottle). Clearly, this was meant to be consumed in large quantities, and all at once, due to the fact that the bottle could not be resealed once opened. Always up for a challenge, I dove in, and was treated to one of the most refreshing sensations ever!

Gruner, to me is an ideal summer wine. Light and acidic with an effervescent feel. Along with the aforementioned food pairings, I think it would be a great wine to accompany an outdoor summer brunch - eggs Benedict (with smoked salmon or the traditional Canadian bacon), a delicately dressed green salad, fresh fruit and a chilly glass of Gruner sounds like a great way to start a lazy Sunday.

Of the four I've tasted, I think my favourite would have to be Grooner, which showed up in my local wine-store a few weeks ago. It has a pronounced grapefruit flavor, and a bit more complexity than the others I've had. But any Gruner at all would be among my list of go-to wines for 'chilling out' in the summer time.

Cheers!

Brrrrrr!

2009-01-19T16:34:00.002-05:00

That's life

2008-12-14T22:36:00.005-05:00

I roll over, and put my arm around him. I kiss the back of his neck. He reaches behind him, and while scratching his butt, he issues a phlegmy grunt. "That's romantic" I mumble. He crawls out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom singing "That's life... that's what all the people say.."

And while I chuckle into my pillow, more grunting and hacking is coming through the bathroom door. He shuffles back to bed and curls up beside me, smelling of Vicks VapoRub, and within seconds, I hear him softly snoring.

I put my arm around him. I kiss the back of his neck.

That's life.

Oui oui!

2008-07-13T19:47:00.004-04:00

Happy Bastille Day
Aaah, le merguez frite

et le petanque

et le soleil

et le vin

What's that wet stuff falling from the sky?

2008-07-09T13:13:00.004-04:00

Office messenger: I hope I can make it home before the rain tonight.

Office moron #1: It's gonna rain? Oh my God!

Me: How is it that you're always surprised when you hear that it's gonna rain? Don't you check the weather forecast in the morning? They said it was gonna rain.

Office moron #1: I know they said there would be rain. I just didn't think it would really rain.

Me (internal dialog): Yes, of course. Those meteorologists have absolutely no idea what they're talking about, so they just make up some random shit in order to make thousands of people tote around umbrellas that they will never use. In the future, I will be sure to consult you before I leave the house so that I can know what the real weather is going to be.

Top or bottom? What kind of question is that?

2008-06-26T19:00:00.004-04:00

Sorry for the extended absence. I've been in a bit of a funk lately, and I don't know if this is a cause or a symptom of my writers' block. So in the absence of anything even remotely entertaining to submit, I shall instead put forward a complaint:

Toilet paper should be installed with the end hanging from the top of the roll, not the bottom, unless you have a cat, or a small child, or both.

Anyone who believes otherwise is a savage.

Sakura Matsuri

2008-05-10T18:32:00.004-04:00

Here's one of our fun, springtime traditions. Our annual pilgrimage to the Cherry Blossom festival, at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

Allergies be damned, I wanted SAKE!!!!

Let it be known that I paid for this later on with several days of swollen, watery, itchy eyes, and a great deal of wheezing. It was worth it!

Son of a Beach

2008-05-10T17:08:00.008-04:00

So why exactly am I freezing my butt off on the Coney Island boardwalk once again? I'll tell you why : my sweetie decided to participate in the oh-so-fun Brooklyn Half Marathon. So, being this good soldier that I am, I followed him out the very edge of our fine borough to serve as head cheerleader, documentarian and general support staff.

I do have to say that my discomfort was somewhat mitigated by the sight of the massive turnout for this particular race (close to 6000 lunatics in all). I figured that if all these scantily-clad individuals were willing to brave the chill air, it really wansn't my place to complain about my fingers being a little numb.

And so, with the blast of the starter's bullhorn, they were off!

I proceeded to follow the crowd, on foot, and by train, to cheer on these athletes at various points in the race. And for those of you who would dare sing high praises of the New York City subway system, I am sorry to inform you that the winner of this race made it to the finish line 13.1 miles away a full five minutes before I arrived, huffing and puffing. In spite of this, I was in time to watch sweetie crossing the finish line, and in the process, shattering his previous personal best, which he had established in the year 2000! Yes folks, some things really do get better with age.

Looking hardly the worse for wear
Congratulations sweetie! YOU ROCK!!!!!
Note:
I'd also like to congratulate Mr. John Henwood, the winner of the 2008 Brooklyn Half-Marathon, with whom we had the pleasure of consuming several margaritas only two nights before the race.

That oh-so-fresh feeling!

2008-04-23T00:54:00.004-04:00

I don't think there's a way to describe how tired I was when I stumbled home tonight, sleep-deprived from wheezing my way through another night and half-addled from multiple allergy medications.

And there's my sweetie, half-asleep on the sofa. No big deal, I say, now I have the bed all to myself. So after a few kisses and a brief cuddle with my honey, I make my way to the bedroom, and find the bed COVERED IN LAUNDRY!

And without missing a beat, I nestle in among the piles of Gain-scented cotton and drift off into a fragrant dreamland for the next three hours.

It wasn't the first time I've done this, and sadly, it won't be the last.

Road warriors

2008-03-17T16:44:00.007-04:00

One of the most valuable lessons I've learned in life is that I should never be envious of others. The wealthy, the talented and the beautiful all have their problems, some more well hidden than others, and you can never be sure what is concealed behind an oh-so-perfect facade.

But I can't help but allow a tinge of green to overtake my countenance at the thought of my dear friends the Perruccis, who have quit their jobs and are about to embark on a year-long trip around the world. No, your eyes do not deceive you. One year! Around the world! No bosses! No business suits! No commuting!

And to properly circulate the intense feelings of envy among their friends and family, the Perruccis have launched a fabulous website, where we can track their whereabouts and adventures for the next year.

However, in spite of our mounting jealousy, my sweetheart and I would like to wish them both safe and happy travels, and a warm welcome wherever they venture.

Fashion weak

2008-02-25T17:25:00.003-05:00

A red dress! Dramatic? Exciting? Standing out from the crowd? Not when everybody is wearing one! What the hell was going on at the Oscars? The yawn inducing fashion parade leads me to believe that every woman in the place was given the following directive - your dress must be either red or black, it must be either one-shouldered or strapless, and it must have a mermaid-cut skirt.

There were very few exceptions to this uniform, and I applaud the women who wore them, good, bad or ugly. Most notably : Marion Cotillard in an exquisite ivory Gaultier gown, Diablo Cody in a dress (and I use that term loosely) made from curtains apparently salvaged from a bordello, and Tilda Swinton in something that looked like it was retrieved from a box under the kitchen sink.

But even the ugly dresses earned my respect on Oscar night, simply because they stood out from the mind-numbing procession of 'safe' choices. I've gained a whole new appreciation for the oddball in all of us, and a deep feeling of sympathy for Joan Rivers. She's going to have to come up with a ton of filler to get a one-hour episode out of this bunch.

Take the red pill

2008-02-24T01:46:00.007-05:00

So you're up late at night clicking through the channels and you come across a movie you've seen maybe fifty times. And you decide to watch it, one more time, all the way to the end. Even thought it's really late, even though you can just record it and watch it later, even though you probably have it on DVD, you've simply got to watch it just one - more - time. Here's my short list, what's yours?

The Matrix
Reservoir Dogs
The Usual Suspects
Fight Club
So I Married an Axe Murderer*

*What? A girl can't be silly every now and then?

de dance!

2008-02-23T20:33:00.006-05:00

A couple of years ago, my sweetie and I attended a Carnival fete with my best friend and her husband. I remember being blissfully happy at that fete. Happy at the prospect of being outside, at night, in the middle of February, wearing a tank top and capris; happy because I was eating and drinking to my heart's content with the knowledge that I would be able to dance off every calorie before the end of the night; happy because I was in a country where the phrase 'wind-chill' was an entirely alien concept; happy because I was among my friends, and rapidly approaching the two days of unbridled revelry that would become Trinidad Carnival 2006.

My best friend wasn't having such a good time. She was cranky, for many reasons, some still unknown to me. She was displeased that the DJ was talking too much (I didn't notice), she was upset that the headline act didn't show up (in hindsight, a reasonable grievance, but in my eyes at the time a non-issue), she was quite riled by the deployment of the smoke machine (even though she spent most of the night with a cigarette in her hand), and she was particularly pissed at her husband, who soon after our arrival disappeared into the crowd in pursuit of a drunken good time (allow me to point out that he was not the designated driver for the night).

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a remarkable evening, but a good time was had by all, except for my best friend, of course. But on that night, one occurrence stands out in my mind. As we returned to the parking area afterwards to make our way home, the aforementioned drunken husband, not content that he had enjoyed himself enough for the evening, uttered the following statement:

"Ah want to do back inside de dance!"

Of course, my sweetie and I felt the same way he did, but common sense dictated that we keep that opinion to ourselves, given my best friend's state of mind. However, drunken hubby would not relent. "Take me back inside de dance!" he moaned. He continued in this manner at least until we were dropped off at our hotel, and most probably for quite some time afterwards. During this little diatribe, sweetie and I sat giggling in the backseat, trying to avoid my best friend's glaring gaze in the rear-view mirror.

I really don't mean to make my friend out to be a party-pooper. She is one of the most fun-loving and good-natured people I know, and I truly sympathise with her plight that night, especially since everyone around her seemed to be having the time of their lives. Nevertheless, phone calls between us in the following months were often punctuated by my wailing "take me back inside the dance!" followed by an audible grinding of teeth on her end. Over the months, the phrase has become a bit of a joke between my sweetheart and I, a half-joking lamentation uttered at the end of many a celebratory evening.

Until three weeks ago, when after the impossibly brief whirlwind that was Carnival 2008, our plane touched down at JFK. As the icy wind howled outside the cabin and a swirl of snowflakes fluttered around the bleak grey visage of a land condemned to two more months of winter, my darling turned to me and said softly "Ah want to go back inside de dance!"

I turned away, hoping he would not see the tear forming at the corner of my eye. "Me too sweetie" I whispered back "me too".

Hoppin' John

2008-01-01T20:24:00.000-05:00

Have yourself some blackeyed peas and a glass of champagne.

2008 is going to be a very good year!

Merry Christmas to all

2007-12-24T21:17:00.000-05:00

And so it arrives, faster than ever, sneaking up on me every year. It's never a surprise, yet I'm never quite ready. There's always something left undone, always some loose-end. Unavoidable, no matter how well I prepare. Every year I vow to start Christmas shopping in July, and every year Christmas Eve finds me in a near frenzy.

So before another silent night passes into the history books, and I'm left wading knee-deep in the detritus of holiday revelry, I'd like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.

And to all, a good night.

Will run for food..

2007-11-25T18:03:00.000-05:00

I'm standing on the boardwalk, the cold wind is biting into my reddened cheeks and my eyes are watering mercilessly. The surf is rolling in the distance, and the wooden planks beneath my feet are thrumming with the rhythm of eager footsteps. Does this all seem a little familiar?

So, as if it wasn't enough for my sweetie to begin the running season with a gust of icy wind in his face, he's decided to end his season with one as well. On a chilly Sunday morning, we made our way to the Cosme's Coney Island 5K Turkey Trot, for what we believed would be a spirited and entertaining competition. What we encountered instead were about sixty hardy souls shivering on the boardwalk, waiting for the race to begin.

As I surveyed the group, I picked out one or two individuals who appeared to be capable of besting my beloved in this footrace, and I immediately became confident that we would once again be bringing home some 'hardware'. And then I remembered! A glance at the race brochure confirmed my growing apprehension. For this particular race, the prize, awarded to the first three finishers of both sexes was - A BUTTERBALL TURKEY.

Yes indeed, I had forced myself from a warm, comfy bed, to travel to the very edge of the city, to watch my boyfriend run 3.1 miles for fourteen pounds of frozen poultry. Always being one to make the best of a bad situation (stop giggling), I began quietly planning the methods by which I could thaw, butcher and cook the bird in question within a 12 hour period. The reason for such a rush was two-fold:

Our refrigerator is 3 feet tall, and I wasn't willing to gamble that it could safely house such a large item, and

Even if it could fit in the fridge, it would thaw just in time for Thanksgiving, when we would be about a hundred miles away in the process of consuming another turkey, lovingly prepared by the future mother-in-law.

So, I had to find a way to mitigate the sheer 'turkeyness' of our situation. It goes without saying that I entertained the thought of asking my boyfriend to come in 4th on purpose, and lest you think me a vile shrew for even allowing such a thing to enter my mind, my lovely speed-demon confided in me after the race that he also seriously considered slowing to a crawl once the finish-line was in sight, and the prospect of having to eat nothing but turkey-based meals for the next five days became a very strong possibility.

Yet there he was, effortlessly sailing across the finish line in third place. Our fate was sealed, and so was my plan. The wings and back would be made into a stock, the legs and thighs would be stewed, and the breast would be roasted whole. As we rode the subway home, with a rock-hard bird at our feet, desperately searching the eyes of our fellow passengers for the tiniest shred of envy, longing, or even hunger, eager for any opportunity to spring forth, turkey in outstretched arms and proclaim "Please take this, you look like you need it more than we do!" reality tightened around my heart. We were stuck with this bird, and there was nothing, short of tossing it in the garbage, that we could do to get rid of it.

For the next two hours, I crouched over the frozen mass, running warm water over it, first in the bathtub, then in the sink, coaxing, clawing and heaving it's joints into fluidity.

Here I must strenuously interject that this is a highly dangerous method of thawing raw meat, and should never be attempted in any situation - do as I say, not as I do!

Once freed from the ice, it was only a matter of minutes before the various parts were severed, seasoned and dispatched to their various cooking vessels, and I was able to collapse, wild-eyed and trembling, into the sofa for a few restless hours, to await the outcome of my efforts.

It has been one week since that fateful day, and not including Thanksgiving night, we have consumed a total of six turkey meals each. And to my surprise, each and every one of them was absolutely delicious. But tasty or not, there are limits as to how much gobble-gobble a girl can gobble in a week. The few remaining shreds of meat will be discarded tonight (I've been afraid to open the fridge for the last few days). And this story will become fodder for drunken conversations for many months to come. Until the next Turkey Trot, when I will be fully prepared, crouched on the boardwalk, bee bee gun in hand, aiming carefully and steadily at my boyfriend's kneecaps.

Oh crap!

2007-11-09T17:50:00.000-05:00

I just found out that November is National Blog Posting Month. Oh well, maybe next November.

at x-large?

2007-10-05T11:34:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, while I was clearing out a bookshelf, I came upon a chart I had created over ten years ago to document the progress of a weight-loss regimen. At that time, I was approaching a 'milestone' birthday, and having decided that I was unacceptably overweight, I propelled myself into a serious diet and exercise plan, fastidiously recording every morsel I ate and drank, every weight I lifted and every mile I ran. My plan was an amazing success, and I showed up for my birthday celebration looking more fabulous than I ever had in my entire life. I was lean, I was fit, my body was smokin', slammin' and all the other adjectives that one could possibly apply to a woman as stunning as I was.

Then, something happened. I'm not quite sure when, or how, because I didn't actually witness the event myself. If pressed for an explanation, I can only conclude that sometime in the past ten years, my brain was removed from my body, kicked about on the floor for a while, then placed snugly into the cranium of someone 50 pounds heavier. Strangely, I bear no surgical scars from this procedure, so I can only deduce that this was the work of an alien civilization far more advanced than the human race. I can only speculate as to their reasoning for this macabre experimentation. Perhaps they wanted to document the effects of this transformation on the human mind, and I'm sure they were soundly disappointed by my chosen response of ignoring the whole thing and pretending it never happened. "Just how silly is this human?" they must have wondered "Hasn't she noticed that she's gone from petite flower to roly-poly pumpkin overnight?"

Well, quite honestly, no, I didn't notice!!!! Or rather, my conscious self didn't notice (but that part of my brain was probably damaged in the kicking-about-the-floor bit). For quite a long while, I seemed to carry the weight quite well, or so I've deluded myself into thinking. None of my friends or family ever commented on the weight-gain, and they're usually the first to pipe up about that sort of thing. The only evidence, it seems, was photographic. My reflection in the mirror never revealed the true gravity of the situation to me, but over the years, the snapshots would show and extra bump here and there (especially THERE) that my addled mind would simply dismiss as photographic artifacts - an odd camera angle, the lighting not-quite-right.

Slowly but surely, the veil of denial was being lifted. Clothes didn't fit anymore, construction workers didn't whistle anymore (but seventy year-old Puerto Rican men still find me very attractive - go figure), and little health problems started popping up. And then I found that chart, and gazing at my 'unacceptably' heavy starting weight with ENVY, the truth was finally hammered home.

Of course, knowing you're too fat and actually doing something about it are two entirely different things. I've had many little weight loss victories in that 10 year interim, but each one was progressively more difficult to achieve, and totally impossible to maintain. The tactics that had been wildly effective on my young, nimble frame were barely making a dent in my lumbering carcass as I slouched towards middle-age.

"You're too gung-ho!" argues my significant other, "You do too much, too fast, injure yourself so badly you can't work out, and then you're back to square one". And he's absolutely right, of course. His logic is impeccable, but logic and desperation rarely go hand-in-hand, and true to form, I've gone off once again on some poorly defined diet and exercise plan that after only a few days is showing significant signs of decay. And the only reason I haven't injured myself this time around is because I am so enfeebled that I am unable to do anything intense enough to cause damage! How pathetic is that?

But even in the face of near-certain failure, I must persevere. The mountain grows ever higher and the rock grows ever heavier, but I must continue to push, or I will most certainly be crushed - and trust me, nobody wants to have to clean up that mess!

I remember the sky

2007-09-11T09:45:00.002-04:00

I remember the sky, six years ago today, was an almost otherworldly shade of blue. I remember stepping off the unfamiliar crosstown bus, not wanting to be late for my software training, but stopping anyway, and removing my sunglasses for a moment to look up. The sky was perfection, not a trace of cloud, and an amazing crystalline clarity that is highly uncommon in the summer months.

I remember scurrying into the lobby of the ABC News building, eager to get the class over with, so that I could escape early, and luxuriate in a few precious hours of daylight before returning to the regular workday drudge that the rest of the week would bring.

I remember looking up at the jumbo television screens in the lobby, and seeing a tower in flames, and asking myself "What movie is this? and why is ABC broadcasting it at this hour? shouldn't the news be on now?" I remember the fog of surreality descending upon me when I was informed that "This IS the news!", that somebody had crashed a small airplane (that was the story at the time) into the World Trade Center. I remember thinking that it was an awfully huge fire for a small airplane, and hoping that the casualties were few.

I remember sitting in class, entirely distracted by people running back and forth in the corridors, but trying very hard to concentrate on what the instructor was saying. I remember a hurried knock, and the door flying open, and someone breathlessly announcing that another plane had crashed into the second tower, that this wasn't an accident, that we were under attack.

I remember frantically calling my boyfriend, whose daily commute took him directly under the World Trade Center, and gratefully finding him running late for work, but staring in horror at his TV screen.

I remember crowded buses, panicked phonecalls, stunned, silent crowds moving, ghost-like over bridges and down hollow avenues. I remember sheets of paper, charred around the edges, descending into the streets of my Brooklyn neighbourhood, a testament to the labours of the minds that were suddenly torn from this world. I remember the smell, like the angry, persistent fume of a pot that's been left on the stove to boil dry. The heated, metallic stench that hung in the air for weeks.

I remember the plume of debris that violated that perfect, infinite veil of blue. The irreperable gouge in the firmament, belching forth ashes, tears, horror, agony and death. Visible from space, and hanging, like the end of life itself, over every breath, over every thought, over every hope and prayer, and lingering like a the imprint of a flashbulb flare in my vision, in every cloudless blue sky I have seen since that moment.

I remember the sky.

Dedicated to the memory of firefighter George Cain, Ladder 7, Manhattan

Bad, bad blogger

2007-08-11T18:03:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have been delinquent, and I apologize most profusely for not posting more often. But it's not been for lack of material. In fact, lately I seem to have too many ideas/opinions/observations bouncing around in my brain and I appear to be in the throes of a mental traffic jam.

So, as soon as I can get my thoughts to line up in an orderly manner (or at least stop bumping into each other) I will return to regularly scheduled programming.

Oh, say, can you see..

2007-07-05T15:14:00.000-04:00

..by the dawn's early light..

So, on the 4th of July, I'm up at the crack of dawn (about 5 a.m.) trying desperately to wake my seemingly comatose boyfriend while packing my beach bag and trying to ignore the ominous clouds gathering in the cold sky. Yes, it was madness, but there was indeed a method to it. The aforementioned boyfriend had signed up for a 4K race on the boardwalk at Long Beach, Long Island, and the only way to make the 8:30 start was to be on the very first train of the day. We were also hoping, weather permitting, to enjoy a little sand and surf after the race. The weather reports made it abundantly clear that we were hoping against hope, but it was Independence Day, damn it, and there was no room for pessimism in our emotional arsenal.

Eventually, I was able to extract my sweetheart from the tangle of blankets and pillows and set him to packing and getting into his racing gear. We made the train with plenty of time to spare, but naturally, the employees of the Long Island Rail Road did not know, or care to know about the urgency of our situation, and decided to operate our train at the slowest possible speed, possibly in protest of being forced to work on a national holiday. This precipitated a little pre-race sprint from the train station to the boardwalk, with me in flip-flops, with a painful case of plantar fasciitis, and lugging a very unwieldy (and totally unnecessary) beach bag.

I am quite happy to report that our efforts did not go unrewarded. My boyfriend won first place in his age group, and 8th place overall out of a field of 363 runners. These accolades were accompanied by some lovely hardware, which now sits proudly atop our television.

Since we had both worked up quite an appetite (he, from blazing up and down the boardwalk at a blistering pace, and I, from grasping frantically at the railings to keep from being blown into the dunes by the gale-force winds), we headed back in the direction of the train station for a delicious brunch at a local diner. As I finished up my glass of iced tea, I stared out the window at the darkening sky and the trees being whipped back and forth, wanting nothing more than to collapse into a three-seater row on the next departing train and be lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine. But it was not to be.

..thro' the perilous fight..

With salvation from the cold wind just within our grasp, my sweetie, no doubt still high from 'the thrill of victory' recommended a return to the beach, and I, no doubt still high from the corned beef hash with two eggs, home-fries, bacon and butter-drenched toast, agreed to give it a try. Half an hour later, as I lay crouched behind my beach bag, buffeted by high winds and sea spray and assaulted by frequent showers of sand kicked up by some horribly hyper-active little boy, I came to the realization, that I had been totally and utterly bamboozled. I bolted to my feet, and while scraping sand from my cleavage, began frantically signalling my boyfriend, who in some sort of adrenaline fueled fugue, was frolicking blissfully in the pounding surf like a pink, goose-pimply dolphin. I'd been intrepid enough for one day, and I was more than ready for a hot shower and a soft bed. As we beat a hasty retreat from the swirling sands, I was amazed to see that there were ever increasing throngs of people pouring out of each arriving train, and I hoped, for their sakes, that they really enjoyed the taste of sand.

And the rockets' red glare..

Back at the homestead, after a long, hot shower, I had hoped to sleep for a couple of hours before heading out to visit some friends of ours, who had invited us to dinner and to view the Macy's fireworks from their balcony. But in spite of my exhaustion, I lay wide awake, terrified that I would sleep through the alarm. The boyfriend did not share this anxiety. Before I had even stepped into the shower, he had already tumbled into bed, sandy and unwashed, and was snoring within a matter of minutes. As dusk, and rainclouds, descended, I again began the protracted exercise of waking the man, and, decked out in our holiday finery under our trusty raincoats, we ventured out yet again in search of fun. This time around, adversities were few and far between. We were treated to a delicious meal and wonderfully entertaining conversation, not to mention a great view of those amazing fireworks. Even the incessant honking of horns from the lunatics stuck in traffic on the street below seemed to add to the festivities. And miraculously, it never rained a drop at any time that we were outdoors, a phenomenon which is absolutely unheard of in normal life. Emboldened by our good fortune, I seized the opportunity to do some frolicking of my own, and insisted that we stop at a neighborhood bar on the way home. I knew I wouldn't be denied a nightcap, given the sacrifices I had made that day, but I do have my limits, and I was willing to call it a night around 1:30 in the morning.

And as I stumbled out into the world the following morning, with bleary eyes and aching bones, not quite ready to face the work day, I could honestly say that I had no regrets about how I spent my 4th of July. But I have been besieged since then by the grumbling of my friends who took one look at the weather forecast and decided to stay inside and do nothing, and are now wishing that they had made some attempt at making the day special. And while I have nothing at all against laying around like a lump, I think it should be a matter of choice, not necessity.

Though many may find the association rather trivial, days like yesterday are a reminder to me that there is nothing to be gained without some risk. Of course there's no real danger in getting sand in your hair, or losing a few hours sleep. But not all sacrifices we make in life are small, and certainly not all of them are rewarded, so we should appreciate the value of all the sacrifices we make, and the rare benefits we reap from them. Nothing ventured, nothing gained folks! After all, this is..

..the home of the brave!

Crazy from the heat!

2007-06-21T13:23:00.000-04:00

In case you thought that the reason I haven't posted in so long is because I have been slaving away trying to create order out the piles of boxes, clothing and wayward furniture that have turned my apartment into a knee-gouging, hip-bruising odyssey of obstacles, allow me to disabuse you of such a belief.

I have been indulging most heartily in what is commonly described as 'goofing off'. Indeed, my office workload has not abated, and it is a rare occasion (such as this) when I have time to blog from my desk. But once I leave this building in the evening, pure silliness is the order of the day.

In the past few weeks, I've feasted on juicy brisket and pulled-pork sandwiches at the Big Apple BBQ Block Party, I've lounged on the grass while being serenaded by the likes of The Neville Brothers, and Joan Osborne, I've eaten and shopped my way through the mile-long Seventh Heaven Street Fair, and the list goes on and on. I've even managed to squeeze in some running in Prospect Park in an attempt to mitigate the effects of the never ending onslaught of calories.

On the agenda for tonight? "Rumble on the River" - outdoor boxing matches staged on the Hudson River waterfront. And I am just getting started!!

Do I feel guilty about having my house in the exact same state of disorder as when my boyfriend moved in three weeks ago? Certainly! But I would feel even more guilty about ignoring all of this brilliant sunshine. The world could blow up tomorrow, you know! Nobody ever lay on their death-bed wishing that they had taken that extra moment to Swiffer under the sofa. But I'd wager that many a soul has departed this world longing, just one more time, to feel warm sand between their toes, sunshine on their shoulders or the gentle, briny mist of ocean spray against their faces.

I will get back to my domestic responsibilities sometime soon (my knees just can't take any more battering), but I plan to pack a lot of dilly-dallying into the spaces between office work and house work this summer.

So kindly excuse me now, the Summer Solstice has just arrived, and I'm going outside to meet it.

Weather Update
Sadly, 'Rumble on the River' was a washout, as afternoon sunshine gave way to evening thunderstorms. No biggie, my calendar is still overflowing with lots of great ways to waste time this summer.

The thud heard 'round the world

2007-05-30T21:54:00.000-04:00

It wasn't my plan to make any grave commentary on current events on this forum, but I found this particular experience so very unsettling that I felt I had to set it free from my mind:

While I was busy compressing time and space this weekend, a small bit of grist for the YouTube mill was coalescing on TV screens all over the world. Rachel Smith, the USA delegate at the 2007 Miss Universe competition slipped while traversing the stage and fell on her backside. I didn't watch the broadcast myself, I've grown rather weary of beauty pageants lately, and this year's lack of a Trinidad & Tobago delegate all but guaranteed that I would be paying no attention at all to the night's proceedings.

But even I, amid the jumble of boxes and disassembled furniture that have overrun my life, could not escape the news of the (in my opinion) unfortunate event. The general lack of decorum and hospitality exhibited by the Mexican audience was also a source of controversy.

Now, I am certainly not above the odd bout of schadenfreude (who doesn't appreciate the occasional proof that even the beautiful people aren't perfect), but it seemed that I was one of a tiny minority who didn't find the evening's developments all that funny. Good for a momentary embarrassed giggle perhaps, but not gut-busting hilarious by any means. And I most definitely thought the booing was in poor taste. It's a freakin' BEAUTY PAGEANT for crying out loud! Hardly the place for you to express your deeply entrenched loathing for a country that thousands of your citizens are fighting to live in on a daily basis.

But the thing I find most disturbing about this entire episode, is the realization that a lot of people found this entire event uproariously funny, until they learned that Miss USA is black! Lo and behold, the same people who were cackling with glee in between clicks of the 'replay' button are now speaking out in sympathy and regret at 'sistah' Rachel Smith's plight. And they don't seem the least bit conscious of the dramatic flip-flop that they've performed.

Am I so far out of the loop that I've failed to realise that racism and hypocrisy are no longer things to be ashamed of? Or maybe these people are trying to follow in Ms. Smith's footsteps - if you fall down, get up immediately, shake it off, and act like nothing happened. Well, it couldn't win Rachel a crown..

Mergers and Acquisitions

2007-05-25T12:39:00.000-04:00

It's finally here! The long Memorial Day weekend marks the unofficial start of summer. All over the city, barbecue grills are flaring, flip-flops are flapping and you can almost hear the snap-snap-snap of a million tubes of sunblock flipping open. New York City is gearing up for fun in the sun. Lush, green spaces are beckoning, with grasses plump, cool and healthy from copious (and some would say excessive) doses of spring rain. The lunchtime crowd jostles daily for precious fountain-side seats. The very air, it seems, is trembling with anticipation.

But for me, at least for the next few days, anticipation is all I will have. You see, my boyfriend of many years, my sweetie, my honey bunny, my one and only, is moving in with me this weekend. And while the vast majority of Gothamites will be heading off to their summer retreats, sprawling their winter-pale bodies over every available inch of grass, consuming tremendous amounts of grilled meats, or raiding Old Navy for cargo shorts and tank tops, my sweetheart and I will be re-arranging furniture, packing and unpacking boxes, and sneezing our way through a truckload of dusty knick-knacks.

This move has been a long time in the making. I rejected the original plan of each of us vacating our apartments for a bigger space. The expense, and the trauma, would have been just too much for me at the time. But he kept pushing, and I kept rejecting, and finally he hatched a dastardly plan. If he moved in with me, he surmised, I would be so maddened by the cramped quarters and lack of privacy that I would eventually cave in and start searching for a bigger place for us to live. In the meantime, we would save money on rent and utilities, which will come in very handy for the inevitable rental deposit for our next 'crib'. In light of the fact that I've pondered a hundred different ways to fit all his worldly goods into my Hobbit-worthy domicile, and come up miserably short every time, I think the evil genius might be on to something.

But before we start thinking about the next big move, we've got to get this one out of the way. This weekend, I must become a master manipulator of space and time. I firmly resolve to have a place set aside for every scrap of clothing, every stick of furniture and every electronic monstrosity that he chooses to bring to the party. And I will do it all in the space of three short days, not because I want to prove I'm some kind of superwoman, but because I really don't want to risk tripping over a guitar and cracking my skull open when I get up to pee in the middle of the night.

Who knows, maybe we'll do such a good job that Memorial Day will actually turn out to be a real holiday for us. Or maybe we'll end up having to share the bed with a microwave and a set of stereo speakers. Whatever happens, we are determined to make it work. Summer is calling, and we're not about to let a few wayward appliances stand in our way.

Save me a hamburger!

Much Ado..

2007-05-22T14:00:00.001-04:00

Just to give everyone a quick update:

The biopsy results are negative. Just some surface irritation that should go away eventually. I have to schedule another pap test in three months to make sure all is well.

Yaaaaaaay!!!!

Now I can get on with the business of having a fun (and very hectic) summer!

Thanks so much to everyone for your good wishes and support. It truly meant a lot to me.

The Phantom Debt

2007-05-10T15:18:00.000-04:00

A couple of months ago, with the help and support of someone very dear to me, I became, for the first time in about 10 years, entirely debt-free.

Of course, there should be high-fives and abundant celebratory toasts at this momentous occasion. But instead of being at peace, and revelling in my new found financial freedom, I seem to have become downright terrified of spending money.

I can only compare this to the phenomenon that many amputees claim to have experienced, a sensation that the missing limb is actually still there! I still feel the weight of the appendage that I carried for over a decade. In fact, I've found myself checking my credit-card balance several times a week, each time believing that my burden would suddenly re-appear, and each time finding the balance at zero, and each time being strangely disappointed that there was no balance due. And I've taken to wringing my hands in anxiety over the 'extra' money in my bank account at the end of the month. Was there a bill I forgot to pay? A check that hasn't been cashed? Surely there must be something I've missed!

In the weeks leading up to my liberation, I made a very modest list of items that I planned to buy (with cash) when I finally reached my goal. But to this day, not a single item on the list has been acquired. I feel as if the slightest indulgence will send me spiraling into a sticky pit of finance charges and ever growing balances. I know this won't actually happen, but I can't seem to behave in a rational manner when it comes to spending money.

And why does this insanity not manifest itself at the supermarket, or the drugstore? I won't scramble to find the cheapest brand of cereal or toothpaste if the one I prefer is more expensive. But I'll be walking down the street in a pair of sandals that are about to fall apart, stop at the window of one of the many neighborhood shoe stores, stare longingly at the wonderfully colourful offerings on display, then just continue walking along - or rather, shuffling along - as if nothing had happened.

I know I'm going to crack sooner or later. Summer is just around the corner. The dresses are to-die-for, the sunglasses are Jackie-O-fabulous and don't even get me started on the handbags! But I think the splinter of ten years of debt is too deeply imbedded in my psyche to be shaken loose by a flashy pair of shoes. I'm very confident that I will be able to spend within reason, if and when I finally get started. Because even though I'm still feeling my phantom appendage, the joy of being debt-free is beginning to grow on me.

There's a little chunk of me floating around in a test tube somewhere..

2007-05-09T16:54:00.000-04:00

The colposcopy was not as painful as I anticipated, but it was a lot messier! Results in about two weeks.

From the ashes

2007-05-06T13:02:00.000-04:00

I am just emerging from a blistering, hectic week at work, followed by a Saturday replete with "I really should do [insert boring weekend chore here], but I'd rather take a nap" moments.

I will post again soon. I promise!

They say ignorance is bliss.

2007-04-17T16:06:00.000-04:00

And it WAS, for a while, but sooner or later, reality was bound smack me in the head (or a more southerly body part, in this case). The results of my follow-up exam are abnormal.

So, in three weeks, I must submit to a colposcopy. For those who want extensive, clinical details about this procedure, click here. For those who do not, let's just say the doctor's going to poke around in my hoo-hah for a few minutes to see what the hell is going on down there.

It's NOT cancer, they told me, but they need to see if it's anything of concern. So I'm just gonna chill, and put this out of my mind until the time comes.

Yeah, right!

Test anxiety

2007-04-02T09:37:00.000-04:00

Four months ago, a routine doctor's visit, a routine test, followed by the routine 'we'll send you the results in two weeks'. And the two weeks go by, and nothing. Did I miss the e-mail, did my answering machine go wonky? But hey, no news is good news, right?

Week three, there's the e-mail 'Results abnormal. Please schedule a follow-up appointment in three months.'

Abnormal? What does that mean? Is it minor? Is it serious? So I wonder, then I worry, then I scour the Internet. As they say - six of one, half a dozen of the other. For every article I read that scares me, there is another that eases my mind. But still, I worry, because I'm really good at it. And I ask a close friend. "Abnormal?" she says "No reason to panic. I've had those before!" And she goes on to say that they have to do X and they have to do Y, and then you're fine. No reason to worry. So I worry a little less each day. Things become all blurry in my head, and they stay that way for three months.

Then there is the reminder letter, and I schedule an appointment, and I wait, and I worry. And my appointment is cancelled due to an emergency. Doctors have emergencies all the time, you know.

So I make another appointment. And I wait, and I worry. And tomorrow, I will see the doctor, and he will perform the test, and in two weeks I will get an e-mail saying everything is normal, and I have nothing to worry about. And I will go on with the routine business of life. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

The Joy of Pizza

2007-03-21T17:57:00.000-04:00

So, the boyfriend announces that he is going out to dinner with a few co-workers tonight, and the first thought that runs through my mind is 'great, I don't have to cook tonight!' I was immediately disturbed by my reaction, simply because I count myself among the dwindling group of people who really LOVE to cook. And now I'm starting to wonder if I actually do love it anymore.

Back in my youthful and carefree days, I would often cook for fun, even for adventure. I remember peeling my first tomatillo as fondly as some people remember their first kiss. Cooking used to be a pleasure, a form of relaxation and most importantly, something I almost never had to do. Back then, I could exist on a diet of greasy take-out food without any fear that my waistline would expand, or my cholesterol skyrocket. But that was many years, and quite a few dress-sizes ago, and my culinary focus has turned to healthful, tasty, well-prepared foods that are pretty hard to come by in take-out form.

Back then, I think I would have jumped at the chance to be able to cook for a living. In hindsight, I'm glad I never got that chance. Over the years, I've come to realise that just the thought that I have to do something automatically makes it much less fun to do. Occasionally, cooking a meal is still a pleasant experience, when I don't have to watch the clock, or when I'm trying something new. But I really do appreciate having the choice, on some nights, between making bolognese and making a phone call.

So, unless I win the Lotto and can hire a full-time chef, or my metabolism retuns to that of a 20 year old, or my boyfriend suddenly becomes capable of handling a razor-sharp chef's knife in a way that doesn't make me want to rush for the first-aid kit, I will toil away in a kitchen, at least a few nights a week, for the rest of my active life. And every now and then, I suspect, I might just catch myself smiling.

That's all for now. There's a pepperoni slice on the kitchen counter, and it's getting cold.

Erin Go Bragh

2007-03-17T15:12:00.001-04:00

Contrary to the results of this quiz, I'm probably MORE Irish than I think. As far as I know, I have no Irish ancestry whatsoever. But the love of my live is an Irish-American cutie, so I think that counts for something.

You're 45% Irish

You're probably less Irish than you think you are...

But you're still more Irish than most.

How Irish Are You?

Spring has sprung?

2007-03-15T22:14:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, the first verified wave of spring fever descended upon Gotham. The afflicted (myself among them) were easy to spot, parading in shirtsleeves and bare legs, as the temperature soared to a delightful 70 degrees. Even though New York City lucked out tremendously this year as far as winter weather goes, the frigid temperatures over the last few weeks left us itching, literally and figuratively, for balmier days.

But Mother Nature proves to be a fickle mistress indeed, for as I write, temperatures plummet, and a thin veil of snow-like precipitation begins to whiten the night sky. If forecasts are to be believed, it's possible that the city may be blanketed by six inches of the stuff within the next 24 hours, and we'll have to wait yet another week before temperatures venture back into flip-flop territory.

So I wait patiently. And from time to time, I console myself by gently stroking the crisp, white skirt that peeks ever so bashfully from the back of my closet. Soon, my pretty, soon....

with all due respect to christopher meloni

2007-03-09T21:23:00.000-05:00

So, if I show up at my boyfriend's apartment with no makeup on, my hair in a bun, wearing an old t-shirt, baggy jeans and trainers, he immediately wants to go out for a night on the town! He wants a fancy dinner at a swanky restaurant, and a visit to the neighbourhood jazz club.

But if I'm fully made-up, with flawless hair and a dressy outfit, his reaction is usually this - "let's order in and watch some TV".

Is this his (not so) clever way of avoiding having to take me out? He knows there's no way in hell I'm setting foot in a nice restaurant or club looking busted. I'm just not that kind of girl. Or does he genuinely not care how I look when we go out? It his ill-timed exuberance just coincidental?

The next time he goes into couch-potato mode after I've gone through the trouble of applying liquid eyeliner, I'm putting my stiletto-clad foot down! I am not wrestling with a flatiron for half an hour so I can spend the rest of the night on the sofa watching 'Law & Order : SVU'.

Ponce de León, eat your heart out!

2007-03-08T20:02:00.000-05:00

As I made my way home tonight from a mind-numbing day at the office, shivering and tired, I decided to stop in at the small supermarket near my apartment to pick up a six-pack of beer. With nothing more on my mind than how this small action would save me from having to trek out into the cold later on for the inevitable beer-run, I shuffled down the aisle and made my selection from the beer case.

I plunked the six-pack down on the cashier's counter and started rummaging through the bottomless pit that masquerades as my handbag when the cashier uttered a phrase that shocked me into a stupor:

"Can I see some I.D.?"

It seemed to take forever to fish that little laminated card out of my wallet, my hands were shaking so badly. What happened after that is a complete blur, because by the time I came to my senses, I was hanging up my coat in the living room.

Was that cashier completely insane? Or maybe she had poor eyesight? How else can I explain the fact that I've just been mistaken for someone half my age?

However.. there is one explanation that I would like to submit for your consideration, good people of the blogosphere. It may very well be that I have stumbled upon the fountain of youth. And its name is Yuengling.

moulting season

2007-03-07T20:28:00.000-05:00

The good news: I lost about 2 pounds today.

The bad news: It was 100 percent skin!

I held out for as long as I could, slathering my body with gooey, oil-laden body-washes, applying handful after handful of thick creams, shunning the loofah, the pumice or any device or method that threatened to breach the ever so thin line between 'bronze, sun-showered goddess' and 'peeling reptilian hag'.

It's been 11 days since I returned from Trinidad, and, as is my custom after this annual pilgrimage, I have been living in denial of the natural process of skin renewal. Hoping to hold on to my deep almond glow for as long as possible, I abandoned my regular exfoliation regimen while my scrubby bath gloves lay neglected on the edge of the tub. But tonight in the shower, I bit the bullet, and scrubbed every reachable inch of my skin with reckless abandon. IT FELT GOOD!

Not wanting to immediately witness the resulting carnage, I remained cloistered in the the steamy bathroom for half an hour afterwards, coaxing drop after drop of body oil into my stripped epidermis, until I was satisfied that I had staved off the inevitable, itchy aftermath.

So here I sit, heavily oiled, swathed in toasty garments, and contemplating how I will react to the spectre of my naked, peeling self in tomorrow's cold morning light.

Please excuse me while I search for a suitable shroud for my wall mirror...