Posts filed under 'Vacation'
will do just fine
Flying east from San Diego to Chicago on Sunday afternoon, it became clear that the brilliant blue skies and gentle breezes of southern California were not yet upon us back home in the midwest. I had a window seat, and as my little porthole window became crowded with angry streaks of rain and my view became marred by wet, cottony clouds, my lovely weekend in La Jolla came to a screaching halt. I tried to distract myself by diving into the stack of work reading I had tucked into my carry-on, but my mind kept wandering back to the same question: why, again, do I live in Chicago—a land devoid of palm trees and notorious for its howling wind? I’ve since reminded myself of the many good answers to this question (the recent warm-up has helped tremendously), but ensconsed in the slim cabin of that airplane, they were difficult to conjure up.
My return wasn’t made any easier by the fact that San Diego had experienced an unseasonably warm weekend—one that I spent with my closest childhood friend, Molly, and her soon-to-be-husband (only a few weeks!) and their ridiculously lovable dogs. Add to that the fact that they live in an idyllic little beach town (La Jolla) in a breezy bungalow mere blocks for the Pacific Ocean and that the weekend featured (a) dinner at a local restaurant that made liberal use of Chino Farms produce and served me a black pepper-spiked hibiscus margarita, (b) a backyard fiesta and (c) a trip to the farmers’ market, and you’ll have no trouble seeing why I was so smitten.
New Orleans
What I knew about New Orleans before last weekend was gleaned from the pages of a paperback Grisham novel, the tragic Katrina newsreels, scenes of Benjamin Button’s life-in-reverse, stories of Kevin’s mother’s early college days (in which beignets featured prominently) and a segment of the Martha Stewart Show during which Martha and her guest shook up a couple Sazeracs. In short, not much. Which I think is one explanation for how hard, how fast I fell for the city. Really, I’m still just catching my breath.
We chose New Orleans as our destination for this trip for a couple reasons. First, it’s one of the few great American cities where neither Kevin nor I had stuck a pin in the map. Second, the food. Mention New Orleans to someone’s who’s been and he or she is sure to rattle off a list of can’t-miss meals. Third, we hoped it might be a wee bit warmer than this tundra of a town we’re living in this winter.
All Very Autumn
Last week, as recipes featuring the jewels of summer produce were hopscotching across this page, Kevin and I were driving, hiking, eating, relaxing and photographing our way through the Canadian Rockies. In decided contrast to the late Augusty menu that was unfolding here on this site, Calgary and the mountains to its northwest were a bit more autumn (and at times, downright winter, especially when it, you know, SNOWED). And while it wasn’t quite the summer vacation we had envisioned, I didn’t really mind. Fall has always been my favorite season and with each brisk mountain breeze, I could feel the cozy cocoon that comes with cool weather stitching itself up around me.
Inside this cocoon, very, very good things happen, including, but not limited to: soft, nubbly sweaters; fleece jackets zipped up tight to the chin; blazing fires; mugs of steaming beverages (which may or may not be spiked and, in case you’re wondering, they should be spiked when in the mountains because, well, just because—and it’s just so après-ski-ish); crocks of hearty soups (between Kevin and I, we slurped no fewer than a dozen bowls of soup!); an extra blanket on the bed; rosy cheeks. We indulged in all these fall treats on our trip and also the upside-down apple cake you see atop this post—but more on that later.
(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)
Back from Bermuda
As I mentioned yesterday, we’re fresh off a long weekend in Bermuda. We were there for a wedding and we had a fantastic time. It was one part rowdy fun with our college friends and one part complete and total beach relaxation. We managed to tear ourselves away from said carousing and said lounging only long enough to snap a couple photos and enjoy the Bermudian cuisine.
We quickly learned that rum is a staple not only of the Bermuda, shall we say, liquid diet, but the regular diet as well. It’s prominently featured in the ubiquitous Bermuda Fish Chowder, a sultry, meaty stew that’s unexpectedly dark and sweet and altogether delicious. And it also laces the island’s popular rum cakes.
(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)