I apologize for being out of touch. Life has been too busy! I am looking forward to my trip to Connecticut; I leave DC on Thursday night. And then, to warm up before returning to the grind, I am heading to Siesta Key, Florida to celebrate the New Year! I promise to put new batteries in my camera to document the holidays.

The holiday season. It just doesn't last long enough.

Considering the way this year has flown, I feel I have to make every moment of this holiday season count. Already, I've put up a Christmas tree, hung stockings, strung lights, started my shopping, written out Christmas cards, and planned for holiday baking. But the four or so inches of snow that fell on Wednesday was the icing on my holiday cake.

After watching the snow turn from a consistent but lazy descent, to a heavy downfall, I pulled on my boots, tightened my scarf and considered my trip home. Normally I walk to and from the office, but Ryan suggested I take a cab to avoid the icy sidewalks and bitter cold. Aside from the fact that I only had a few dollars in my pocket, the minute I opened the door to the snow, I knew I would walk.

There is nothing like the hush that blankets the city with the fall of snow. At rush hour, stillness reigned over a neighborhood normally bustling. The crunch of my every step on the undisturbed snow was audible. As the scene changed from high-rises to brownstones, pedestrians lingered, talking to neighbors, walking with children or playing with dogs. (I love to watch dogs in the snow. Sal buries his snout, snorts, and comes up with a tiny pile of flakes on the tip of his nose.)

I knew I looked ridiculous. The snow had accumulated on my coat, sticking to the wool and covering it completely. Flakes had stuck in my eyelashes, melted, and had run down my cheeks. I may have been mistaken for a snowman, if seen from afar. And when I arrived at home, I had a small pile of snow sitting neatly atop my head.

Happy Birthday Ryan!!

My first trip to Kansas was a great one! All the media coverage regarding travel horror must have coerced many travelers to stay home; Regan National was deserted on Thursday. Ryan and I arrived in Kansas City on time and poised to travel to Manhattan with Amy, Andy, and Alex. As soon as we arrived (after a two hour drive that reminded me much of the starkness of Manitoba) I had my camera in hand, ready to document my first holiday in Kansas. However, my batteries were dead. I am sorry, but I don't have any photos to share.

As we know, Thanksgiving is a holiday filled with sharing; sharing of food, memories, tradition... and this year, germs. I actually haven't figured out if the restaurant that we ate at Friday night shared their germs with us, or if we shared them with each other, but at least two of us were lucky enough to welcome illness into our holiday weekend. At least I didn't get sick until I got home.

Tomorrow morning Ryan and I are heading to Kansas to celebrate Thanksgiving! We will be eating dinner with his grandma Jeanne. I am really looking forward to seeing Jeanne, Amy, Andy, and my nephew Alex! I will share photos when I return. My fingers are crossed that air travel will not be a problem.

What are you doing for Thanksgiving?

For the Hawkins family, Thanksgiving is most often a quiet holiday. The low murmur of football and the crackling of a fire in the fireplace makes me feel right at home. And while Christmas is celebrated with our traditional Italian feast (antipasto, homemade ravioli, etc.) our Thanksgiving tradition is quite simple and reflective. Started by my paternal grandmother Marion Hawkins, the beginning of each meal is marked with the planting of a single stalk of celery in each mound of mashed potatoes. To her, this signified the planting of a new tree, an embrace of life, a thanksgiving.

I'd love to hear about your holiday traditions!

Wedding photography is now available. I will post photos as I format them for the blog!

Being without a computer at home is very difficult. Though we have another laptop, Ryan is constantly on it. So, obviously, my blog writing suffers. Hopefully the situation will turn around soon. Thanks for checking in.

Not long after Ryan and I met he handed me a book and told me to read it. Having won me over with his cooking, Ryan intended to share with me the allure that the food-industry held for him. Though he ultimately pursued a career in education, Ryan is a chef at heart. He worked in restaurants for many years and was even accepted into culinary school. The book he handed me was Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain.

The publication of Kitchen Confidential was a life-changer for Bourdain and had a significant impact on food writing. It was one of the first books to delve into the under-world of cuisine (though George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London long-preceded it. Published in 1933, it exposed the darker side of Parisian restaurants.) Today, Bourdain is most commonly known for his successful show, No Reservations, and his many other industry books including A Cook's Tour, The Nasty Bits, and most recently No Reservations. (He is also a writer of crime novels, having published two: Gone Bamboo and Bone in Throat.)

Clearly, we've been fans of his for a while.

Thanks to Theresa, who reads the Washington Post, I learned that Bourdain would be in town discussing his new book. Theresa and I headed over to Olsson's bookstore around 11:40am for a noon appearance. The place was crowded (I believe over 200 people were in attendance...and Olsson's is small!) Bourdain spoke for about forty-five minutes and then signed books and took photos.

What is it that draws the average individual to celebrities? Why do we get giddy or nervous when in their presence? I admit, I had butterflies in my stomach as I approached Bourdain, but I honestly had very little to say to him. There was nothing that he hadn't already heard fifty times. He knows he has the best job. I don't need advice on how to quit smoking. And I'm quite sure he isn't interested in my last culinary experience while I was abroad. So, I thanked him for signing my book, posed for a photo, and moved on. But for an hour before I met him, Theresa and I sat about three feet from Bourdain while nearly 200 people awkwardly tried to connect with him. I think our fascination with celebrities is made up of a combination of curiosity, a bit of envy, and the simple fact that these people are simply not part of our planet. Even so, we make fatal attempts to bond, be noticed, or be remembered.

Happy Halloween!

Before our family moved to Hitching Post Lane in 1987, we lived down the street from Steve and Annie, a couple whom I remember to be very creative. Each winter, they would sculpt complex scenes of snow in the front yard and each Halloween, something equally as unique would be waiting for trick-or-treaters.

When I was four years old, likely donning a Strawberry Shortcake disguise, I remember approaching their house with apprehension. The front porch light was off, begging the question of our presence in the first place (didn’t a darkened porch mean trick-or-treaters were not welcome?) Still, I climbed the steps and rang the bell.

As we waited for an answer, I noticed the scarecrow slumped against the house to my immediate right; perfectly inanimate. Without warning, the ‘dummy’ turned to me and my bowels let go.

Seriously, I don’t think I soiled myself, but I might as well have. I am not sure how long it took me to realize it was Annie under the make-up and straw, but I know there were a few screams and plenty of tears.

On Saturday, Ryan and I went to a friend’s house to watch game three of the World Series. In addition to bringing beer and cracker jacks, I wanted to make something to bring along. I had had a productive day and I was feeling very creative. After a bit of Internet perusing, I decided on a batch of simple sugar cookies... with a twist.

Naturally, I think of hot dogs and beer when I think of baseball. I knew there would be enough beer, even calzones and hot pretzels, but the evening would be lacking hot dogs!

The simple sugar cookie dough (butter, confectioner's sugar, flour, and vanilla extract) was the perfect medium with which to sculpt these pups. And to my utter delight, the test dog didn't lose any shape in the oven. After about 15 minutes at 350 degrees, and some time to cool, I finished the dogs with a stripe of mustard (yellow frosting.) Unfortunately, we were runnning late (no surprise there!) and I didn't get the chance to snap a photo of the frosted cookie.

“Four months, tops,” Brooke advised as we walked from the chapel. She was recommending that I plan my own wedding in less than a year and a half. I guess a year and a half provides ample time to agonize over the details. But in Steven and Brooke’s case, each moment of careful consideration shined on their wedding day. The worry, the stress, and the occasional meltdown were absolutely worth it.

What impressed me most was that both Steven and Brooke’s personalities were evident throughout the entire evening: from the ceremony where Brooke delivered the most heartfelt vows, bringing the entire chapel to tears, to the reception where each guest was given a soundtrack and a hand-bound program. The food, the service, the beautiful location, it was spectacular.

And while time might soften my memory of the finer features of the day, the new friends and family that I have gained and the rekindled relationships with relatives will always be remembered.

Photos will be posted shortly.

Believe it or not, I have been working on a new post but haven't had the chance to finish it up and publish. In the darkness of my celebratory haze, I stashed my camera in Julie's bag, thinking it was my own... so now I am waiting for it to arrive in DC so I can retrieve the photos and share! Thanks for your patience!

Congratulations Steven & Brooke on a beautiful wedding! Photos and stories to come...

Wait, wait, what is that? Is that a nip in the air? Is that the smell, the crunch, of dead leaves? As I was walking to work this morning I felt like it was autumn. After a weekend with a high of 92 degrees (yes, it is mid-October) I thought that autumn would never come. I must say, after I ran out and bought pumpkin beer, squash, and my traditional chai tea, like an overeager lover, I thought I had scared fall away.

Would you rather give up chocolate or cheese?
(if you had to give one up)

This question was put forth on Serious Eats, a food blog I often read. While I thought this one would be tough, surprisingly, the answer comes quite easily for me. I would give up chocolate before I gave up cheese. I love chocolate, but cheese is the clear winner for me.

What do you think?
Leave a comment. Let me know.

I've finished the final Harry Potter book. I'm so sad that there is not another to look forward to. I do, however, plan to reread the complete series. I really enjoyed the last book! J. K. Rowling is a great writer. Amy, I can't wait to finally talk about the book with you!

I was only seven years old when my Nonna Olga died. Her youth and mine never allowed for the development of the closeness I imagine we would have shared in later years. The few memories I have of her are much cherished, as are any memories my mother and my Nonno pass on to me. As my interest in Italian culture and cooking grows, I’ve realized that learning my grandmother’s recipes is one way I can still feel close to her.

When my mom visited me in DC last weekend, I prepared a recipe that my grandmother cooked often for her family. Bracciole was completely new to me. I’d never heard of it until my mom mentioned it to me only a week prior. As found in so many of the best recipes, a cheap cut of beef is used and cooked until tender. Bracciole is simple. Sauteed Italian flat-leaf parsley, pine nuts, and garlic line a rolled beef cutlet (I added mushrooms). The beef is browned for a couple of minutes at the bottom of a heavy sauce pan. Sauce is added, enough to cover the meat, and it all cooks slowly until the beef is very tender.


In addition to the bracciole, I made a salad of grapefruit, parsley, onion, and fennel, placed over a bed of arugula (I saw Giada De Laurentiis prepare this as a salsa for cod, I add arugula and call it a salad.) Finally, to pay homage to one very nice June 2007 night in Verona, I prepared gorgonzola polenta.


Not sure how I did, as I'd never prepared bracciole before, I braced myself as my mom took her first bite. Her shoulders dropped, she seemed transported, "Exactly like Nonna used to make." I felt triumphant. Would she have been proud? I hope so.

It was impossible not to think of the coming season today. The direct sun still warm, but the shadows cool, and the air stirred with a crisp breeze. There are a few things that will always remind me of autumn, my most cherished season. And though we are still eight days from its dawn, today I prematurely welcomed in the season with each of them.

Ever since our first autumn in New Orleans, on a day much like today, donning the first sweater since winter, I sat with Ryan outside PJs where I savored a chai tea (did you know that in many languages chai means tea? My friend Husam brought this to my attention and now each time I say chai tea I laugh at its redundancy). In honor of that beautiful day, and turn of the season, Ryan and I walked over to Caribou Coffee for a chai latte.

The cool weather whets my appetite for soups, stews, and everything squash! So, we’ve had Creole gumbo simmering all afternoon, I purchased my first squash of 2007, and I just cracked my first pumpkin ale.

Ahh, pumpkin ale.

Most of you know that I am a sucker for anything and everything pumpkin! Each autumn I work with passion and dedication to consume as much pumpkin-inspired fare as possible. The list topper (as always and without question): beer. I am currently working on a new blog that highlights my search for the great pumpkin– my own personal spinoff! My Rhoda, to The Mary Tyler Moore Show, my Joannie Loves Chachie to Happy Days, my Jeffersons to All in the Family.

For Labor Day, Ryan and I headed out to San Jose to visit Amy, Andy, and my favorite nephew, Alex. We had such a wonderful time. I can't believe how much Alex has grown and changed since we last saw him in July. My favorite new development is his laugh.



Not only did we have a great time making Alex laugh, but we had the opportunity to go to the Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco. Though I am well-aware of the fact that this area has been commercialized since the hippies moved in during the 1960s, experiencing Haight-Ashbury was exciting. Just as City Lights brought back fond memories of my immersion in everything beat, Haight-Ashbury called to mind my love of the Grateful Dead and life before cubicles and a 9-to-5 schedule.



On Monday, we ventured over to Santa Cruz for a bit of beach, beer, and boardwalk. I had such a blast on the rides and I only questioned my mortality once, when I was upside down and at least one hundred feet in the air. Only a momentary buzz-kill. Before we arrived in Santa Cruz, Amy explained that it wasn't going to be a high-class affair. She was right. It wasn't a place of class and high-rollers, it was, however, the best place to find young children with classic hair styles.

Exhibit A: A bit of Mulletude
*please note, I have strategically placed the inflated hammer in front of this boy's face to protect his identity



Exhibit B: The Classic Rat Tail

Sadly, we didn't eat dinner at the boardwalk - though the fried dough, fried fudge, fried twinkies, and french fries were all so tempting. Instead, we went back to San Jose and indulged at a Japanese steak house. Yum.

It's here! I finally got my KitchenAid mixer. I got it for a ridiculous price (ridiculous because Lowe's accidentally advertised for much lower than they meant to - a typo meant $100 less for me!) I haven't had too much time to play with it, though the first night I managed to whip up a batch of cheese breadsticks.

I am off to California this evening. I am really excited! Already I have a lot I've been meaning to write, but so little time to do so. The many hours flying across the country will allow me to get some thoughts down on paper. When I return next week I hope to post a lot more. In addition, I will have California stories!

Last night Ryan and I prepared two more of the Happy Days' recipes: Baked New Potatoes with Sea Salt and Rosemary and Roasted Asparagus with Rosemary and Anchovies wrapped in Pancetta. From an ingredients standpoint, using rosemary in two dishes made sense... but rosemary is funny. I feel that just the right amount should be used, otherwise it is very overpowering and perfum-y. I enjoyed dinner, but I don't think I will make the asparagus with rosemary again.

Warm Bread Salad of Crispy Pancetta, Parmesan and Poached Egg
(from Jamie Oliver's

Happy Days)

SERVES 4

1 ciabatta loaf

extra virgin olive oil
1 clove garlic, peeled and sliced

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

12 slices of pancetta or bacon

juice of 1 lemon

4 large organic eggs

3 large handfuls of arugula

1 head oak lettuce (I just used a mix)

3.5 oz parmesan cheese

Prehead oven to 400 degrees. Remove the crusts from the ciabatta and dicard, then tear the bread into finger-sized pieces (I accidentally left them a bit big - it was a quiet dinner...chomp, chomp, chomp.) Place on a baking sheet, drizzle with a little 0olive oil and toss with the garlic and seasoning. Back for 10 minutes or until crisp. Lay the pancetta over the bread and bake for another 5 minutes, or until that's crispy too. Mix the lemon with 8 tablespoons of olive oil and season. Put a big pan of unsalted water on to boil.

In a large bowl toss the salad leaves, pancetta, bread, and dressing together, then divide between 4 plates. When the pan of water is simmering, add you 4 eggs. Cook for 4 minutes for a soft egg, or to your liking. Place an egg on each salad and shave over your parmesan, using a vegetable peeler (or use pre-shredded - it's more convenient, less expensive, but doesn't look as cool.)

My trip to Florence, Italy in late June was such an interesting one. It was the first time I'd ever traveled alone in a foreign country and without much knowledge of the Italian language. Actually, I have the basics down - I can make it clear that I speak English and I can order a complete dinner without one word of English spoken either way. I also know random words like:

carta = card (if I didn't have cash I would ask if they took 'carta')
uscita = exit (as a firefighter's daughter the importance of this word is ingrained in my very being)

I thought I knew the word for peach, after all, I ordered a peach gelato, but it wasn't until I told my mother that I placed my order completely in Italian that she informed me that I had actually ordered a FISH gelato. Pesce, peche. Is it really that different?

I traveled by train from Verona and arrived in Florence by noon on a Friday. I exited the train station completely unaware of the fact that I had gotten off at the wrong station. It was Florence, but the directions I had to the hotel obviously did not apply. After walking for quite some time with the determined expression of a woman who knew where she was and where she was going, I finally hailed a cab (a man sitting on a park bench was becoming interested in this 'determined woman' who had passed him four times and OBVIOUSLY didn't know where she was or where she was going.)

My time there was really great... and as I expressed in an early entry, a culinary inspiration. My favorite place in Florence was the Mercato Centrale.

PASTA MAKING sans PASTA MACHINE equals BIG MUSCLES. Sounds like the heading of an Italian gent’s personal ad. Alas, it actually describes our Saturday night. Though great fun, pasta making can really be a workout.

Our first attempt to make the pasta dough was memorable at the very least. I was leaving for what I hoped would be the last ‘ingredient run’ as Ryan started making the dough. But instead of a puffed chest beaming with pride, I returned to a furled brow and a shaking head. He picked up the ball of dough and let it fall to the counter. Cement. It turns out I bought whole wheat flour (uck!) and when the recipe was converted from metric to standard something went awry. Too much flour, too few eggs. We could have bowled with that ball.

Back to the store.

Our second attempt was a success – though dear Lord, it took some muscle to get the elasticity into that sucker.

From there we had great fun. We made three different types of ravioli: wild mushroom prosciutto with basil pesto, ricotta and mozzarella fried ravioli, and a berry mascarpone dessert ravioli.

We also made the recipe that kicked off Mission: Jamie Oliver Warm Bread Salad of Crispy Pancetta, Parmesan, and Poached Egg. I will post the recipe soon.

RYAN AND I HAVE DECIDED TO TACKLE Jamie Oliver's Happy Days with the Naked Chef. I've loved this book for a long time - the recipes all sound so tempting and they are fairly easy! Over the course of the next few months, we plan to prepare each recipe in the book. We aren't going page by page, we are simply ticking them off as we go; preparing what we are up for that day. Already we've started... this weekend we mastered one of Jamie's salads; it was so good we made it both Saturday and Sunday! We also made ravioli this weekend (although that recipe came from Jamie's Italy.) I've plenty of pictures and will upload them this evening.

A FEW WEEKS AGO I CAME ACROSS A BOOK CALLED Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously.

Nearing 30 and trapped in a dead-end secretarial job, Julie Powell resolved to reclaim her life by cooking, in the span of a single year, every one of the 524 recipes in Julia Child’s legendary Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Her unexpected reward: not just a newfound respect for calves’ livers and aspic, but a new life – lived with gusto.

While fulfilling her goal, Julie Powell kept a blog documenting her experience: The Julie/Julia Project. The blog came before the book, as she really had no idea her project would result in publication.

Today, while I perused the the many food blogs that exist, I came across The Gourmet Project. A grad student in Canada has decided to take on The Gourmet Cookbook. He does not claim to be original, he simply recognizes that this isn't something he has done before.

Can you see where this is going?

That's right.. I want to do this! Rediscovering the Jamie Oliver cookbooks that had been sitting on our shelves for years tripped my culinary wire months ago. Jamie Oliver just makes everything seem so easy! That was when I started to bake bread. I experimented by making various types of foccacia, bread sticks, baguettes, pizza dough, even bagels (but that was disaster.) My culinary buzz intensified after my trip to Florence (photos coming soon.) Though our newest cookbook (only 26 hours old) is Jamie's Italy, I've not yet decided if that is the book I will tackle. I'll keep you posted.

FOR YEARS I’VE FELT THAT THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING SPECIAL about my 27th year. I never quite knew what would be so special, but something, I was convinced, was going to set this year apart. So, as my birthday neared in June, I knew that I had to make a plan. I am not one who believes things just happen, I am sure we must make them happen.

The first thing I decided to do was to start buying more lottery tickets. Maybe this is the year I become a millionaire!? Ok, while buying lottery tickets certainly increases my chances of fast and easy money, it still leaves me waiting for something to happen.

I have to start painting again. The simple thought of painting usually empties my mind of any creative ideas, leaving me feeling like a daft simpleton, drooling uncontrollably. A deer in headlights; I am frozen by the high expectations I hold for myself and subsequently the 0-0 track record I have maintained for five years. I allow myself to fail without even trying to succeed. If I can conquer this severe artist's block, my 27th year will be a special year.