What fab timing we have picked to go to Russia.
Recent headlines in the news:
"Suicide bombers kill 12 in southern Russia, attacks follow deadly metro bombings, fuel fears of broader rebel offensive"
"Putin: Bombers to be dragged from the 'sewer'"
"Female bombers kill 37 in Moscow Subways"
"Timeline: Bomb attacks in Moscow"
My mom worries about our upcoming trip. I say to her, "I am worried, but I'm not worried. What can you do? Anything could happen anytime, anywhere."
It's like Russian Roulette.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Passover tidbits from the table
I'm so very disappointed in Whole Foods Market's matzah ball soup. Yesterday was Passover, and this year I shirked my wifely duty in making the traditional Jewish soup from scratch, eager to save time and energy by picking up a house-made version from the nearest Gold Coast WF by my work. I figured it would be fabulous and fabulously expensive, just like all their other prepared foods. I was wrong.
The matzah balls were incredibly dense, uncommonly chewy, and of a strange brown color probably attributed to some holistic/healthful/vegan/organic/whole wheat ingredient that yuppie WFers eat up the way kids do with candy. The chicken broth was delicious and flavorful, but the technique of the matzah balls was all wrong. If only WF knew about my secret ingredient of club soda which helps to aerate the sticky dough, infusing a pleasing light, spongy texture...
I have to agree with our out-of-town guest at dinner who remarked, "The Israelis could chuck a few of these at Palestine!"
Next year I'll just stick with the coconut macaroons.
The matzah balls were incredibly dense, uncommonly chewy, and of a strange brown color probably attributed to some holistic/healthful/vegan/organic/whole wheat ingredient that yuppie WFers eat up the way kids do with candy. The chicken broth was delicious and flavorful, but the technique of the matzah balls was all wrong. If only WF knew about my secret ingredient of club soda which helps to aerate the sticky dough, infusing a pleasing light, spongy texture...
I have to agree with our out-of-town guest at dinner who remarked, "The Israelis could chuck a few of these at Palestine!"
Next year I'll just stick with the coconut macaroons.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Food Revolution: week 1 update
Last Sunday I was inspired by Jamie Oliver's debut reality show to help average Americans make a change in the way they eat and think about food. The first week of my very own "Food Revolution" proved to be inconsistent and only partially met. Here begins a weekly update of my progress:
(1) Reduce the number of canned meals I eat for lunch. 5-0 Jamie (myself, not Oliver)! I refrained entirely from giving in to the ease and convenience of canned foods despite the hectic work week, instead choosing to alternate between hearty, homemade leftovers of:
(1) Reduce the number of canned meals I eat for lunch. 5-0 Jamie (myself, not Oliver)! I refrained entirely from giving in to the ease and convenience of canned foods despite the hectic work week, instead choosing to alternate between hearty, homemade leftovers of:
- Premium Angus Roast Chuck Stew with Rice, Potatoes, Carrots, Onion, and Celery (hey, don't judge the two starches, the school cafeteria cooks on Jamie Oliver's show says it's required by the USDA – I don't make the rules!);
- Orecchiette in a Red Wine, Mushroom, Tomato Sauce;
- Corned Beef with Cabbage and Potatoes; and
- Baked Chicken stuffed with Prosciutto, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, and Cippolini Onions with Mashed Potatoes
- Monday: Piece of cake! Literally. Ok, so I got an "Easy Pass" card because it was Free Pastry Day at Starbucks. I decided the Banana Walnut Bread would be my breakfast – after all, my goal here is just to eat something, anything, I didn't say it had to be healthy! (That, of course, is the long-term idea, but let's be realistic and start with baby steps, people.) Besides, free food trumps healthy every time!
- Tuesday and Wednesday: I brought in pumpkin graham cracker pancakes made lovingly by The Fella over the weekend with every intention to start off the morning right, but one crisis after another swept the morning away. I didn't actually find time to eat these until 4:30pm as a late afternoon snack. Sigh, so much for breakfast!
- Thursday and Friday: I neglected to plan the night before, so I grabbed the hated banana fruit to go. On Day 5 I supplemented the banana with a couple chunks of fancy cheeses leftover from the client dinner we hosted the night before at the office.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Awesome Food: Markethouse
There's always something foodie-esque abuzz in Chicago, and somehow I never can keep up with it all – Restaurant Week (blog post to follow recounting that night's deliciousness at David Burke's Primehouse through photography), Chicago Gourmet Festival, Taste of Chicago, Taste of Randolph, yada yada yada. Tomorrow is the last day of Chicago's Chef Week, so almost all of the 30 participating restaurants were booked solid if you weren't smart enough to make way-in-advance reservations, especially on the last Saturday evening. We managed to secure a late table at Markethouse to check out their Chef Week's $30 prix-fixe, three-course dinner.
Now, I'm not a "food blogger" in any right, but I seriously like to take pictures of food to help me remember a delicious meal. I always have. I am sure I learned this habit from my Mom as soon as my little fingers could operate a camera because all my sisters and I boast competing food shots. Call it the stereotypical Asian cliché (cameras and peace signs and what have you), but I just like the way a pretty dish of food looks – the plating, the styling, the complexity of textures and colors. Referencing old snapshots inspires me to cook up similar recipes, and to plate food in creative ways when I host dinner parties.
Yesterday at Markethouse, our out-of-town guest asked me a really good question (with a bit of incredulity): "What do you do with all these pictures of food? Do you keep a photo album filled of them?"
Well, yes, in fact, I do! It's a Facebook album called "Awesome Food".
There's no point to it, except that I just like it.
Entree: Cedar Springs Lamb, Smoked Cauliflower,
Wild Rice, and Gooseberry
Now, I'm not a "food blogger" in any right, but I seriously like to take pictures of food to help me remember a delicious meal. I always have. I am sure I learned this habit from my Mom as soon as my little fingers could operate a camera because all my sisters and I boast competing food shots. Call it the stereotypical Asian cliché (cameras and peace signs and what have you), but I just like the way a pretty dish of food looks – the plating, the styling, the complexity of textures and colors. Referencing old snapshots inspires me to cook up similar recipes, and to plate food in creative ways when I host dinner parties.
Yesterday at Markethouse, our out-of-town guest asked me a really good question (with a bit of incredulity): "What do you do with all these pictures of food? Do you keep a photo album filled of them?"
Well, yes, in fact, I do! It's a Facebook album called "Awesome Food".
There's no point to it, except that I just like it.
Dinner at Markethouse
(Left to Right) Starters: Yellow Fin Tuna with Pickled Kumquats, Blood Orange, and Citrus Vinaigrette; Dessert: Meyer Lemon Pound Cake with Kumquat Jam and Blood Orange
Entree: Cedar Springs Lamb, Smoked Cauliflower,
Wild Rice, and Gooseberry
Friday, March 26, 2010
Won't you take me to funkytown?
I can't claim to be a true foodie (sad, but true – I did refuse fried bugs in Thailand), but I'll eat pretty much anything else as long as it's not walking off my plate.
Growing up in a Chinese family, I had a lot of exposure to different ingredients and food products. You might call chicken feet, tripe, and wood ear exotic, but to me it's just everyday stuff. My first revelation of just how "unusual" it may be to other people was when we had a recent company outing in Chinatown.
The 21 year old intern was experiencing Chinatown dim sum for the first time, that poor thing who has never eaten a hot dog his whole life (or had a glass of wine until two weeks ago!). Did you NOT grow up in Naperville? As the designated "tour guide", I first introduced my colleagues to a small but bustling Chinese market complete with live fish, eel, and black chickens. Kevin says to me, about the tofu: "Wowww, how do you know what all this stuff is?" Hm.
I can't even imagine what it's like to not have an inkling about diversity in foods or ethnic cultures, but there exists these types! It makes me curious to try put myself in someone else's shoes to relate better, so I'm especially looking forward to Russia. I'm excited to feel entirely out of my element – partially because it's so far and away – but also because its current political culture and social structure still shares continuity with its tsarist and Soviet past, affecting everything from the Russian cuisine to the people and lifestyle. I enjoy tasting local, authentic cuisines in each country I visit, trying to constantly push my limits about what I can learn about a culture through food.
Needless to say, back in Chinatown, Kevin nearly fainted when the Peking duck – head, neck, beak and all – was presented in front of him.
There was no disguising this as chicken!
Growing up in a Chinese family, I had a lot of exposure to different ingredients and food products. You might call chicken feet, tripe, and wood ear exotic, but to me it's just everyday stuff. My first revelation of just how "unusual" it may be to other people was when we had a recent company outing in Chinatown.
The 21 year old intern was experiencing Chinatown dim sum for the first time, that poor thing who has never eaten a hot dog his whole life (or had a glass of wine until two weeks ago!). Did you NOT grow up in Naperville? As the designated "tour guide", I first introduced my colleagues to a small but bustling Chinese market complete with live fish, eel, and black chickens. Kevin says to me, about the tofu: "Wowww, how do you know what all this stuff is?" Hm.
I can't even imagine what it's like to not have an inkling about diversity in foods or ethnic cultures, but there exists these types! It makes me curious to try put myself in someone else's shoes to relate better, so I'm especially looking forward to Russia. I'm excited to feel entirely out of my element – partially because it's so far and away – but also because its current political culture and social structure still shares continuity with its tsarist and Soviet past, affecting everything from the Russian cuisine to the people and lifestyle. I enjoy tasting local, authentic cuisines in each country I visit, trying to constantly push my limits about what I can learn about a culture through food.
Needless to say, back in Chinatown, Kevin nearly fainted when the Peking duck – head, neck, beak and all – was presented in front of him.
There was no disguising this as chicken!
Peking Duck in The Phoenix Restaurant in Chinatown.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Eat, pray, smell
The day I learned a valuable lesson in cooking...You will find that I write a lot about food. It's constantly on my mind – probably more than it naturally should be. I love to cook, taste, eat, take pictures of food, and eat some more.
When my friend from France came to visit me in November, we cooked together. One time, she was teaching me how to make gratin dauphinois. She leaned into the simmering pot of crème fraîche sauce, gave a dramatic sniff, and declared, "My mum gets so annoyed that I always want to smell everything. But I just like to." I keep trying to share this new-found joy with The Fella, as I shove yet another stirring spoon under his nose in hopes that he can appreciate it, too. Smell this! It's so lovely! Try as hard as I may, terrible sinuses deprive him from partaking in this dimension of cooking and eating.
My friend may have brought me A Little Taste of France, but more importantly, she taught me a wonderful lesson in cooking with the gift of scent.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Conversations from the water cooler: March
Hard at work, obviously...A smattering of The Most Absurd Things recently overheard around the workplace:
[Regarding client ad changes] "Need to replace image on right side because the cow on the left has tail up, which indicates impending cow pie coming. Please crop that out." – Protein provider
"Stedman will be coming in today, so we need to wrap up the photo shoot upstairs." – Myself
"Good, fast, cheap – you can only pick two." – My boss
[Regarding client brochure changes] "There's a new rule 'no white guys in photos' so we will need you to find replacement images." – Large-scale, custom cabinetry provider for low-income housing projects
[Regarding client freakout] "That button on my website is linking to an external pornographic site, you must do something stat! You know, Rachael Ray called me about this!" – High end/high angst luxury travel planner
"Jamie, I have bad news. The envelope converter screwed up the diecut of the A7 envelopes, instead of square flap he made it round flap thereby cutting off the return address. The converter has the nerve to tell me, 'Why don't you just try to sell your client on this?' My response went like this, 'What the F!@*$!! F!@*$!!'" – Print vendor
"I'm having dinner with Salvador Dali's illegitimate son today." – My boss
[Regarding a luxury linen rental catalog] "Oh, look, it's my favorite big fish [about an image of a whale shark in the catalog, but which my client thinks is a baby beluga]. It's such a shame what they do to them, killing them for caviar!" – Judy, my client (Aside: I'm going to go ahead and state the obvious, beluga whales do NOT get made into caviar. Oh, Judes!)
"It's too bad your husband's a rheumatologist and not a plastic surgeon." – My boss
Can you find the cow with the "impending cow pie coming"?Sunday, March 21, 2010
Food Revolution
I really love my smut reality tv, but it's refreshing when every now and then, one of real impact – like Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution – makes the air waves.
It's a show where world-renowned chef Jamie Oliver attempts to spread a grass-roots movement to change the way Americans eat and even think about food in order to combat obesity, heart disease and diabetes in the USA, "where our children are the first generation NOT expected to to live as long as their parents." Whoah.
My hope is that this show will remind me to consciously, and – more importantly – consistently take a good look at how I eat on a daily basis. I know there are areas where I can improve. For instance, The Fella scolds me for late-night snacking, but I always rationalize and brush it off. Hey, I'm having an apple and cheese, it's not like I'm sitting down to a bowl of ice cream or a giant slice of pizza!
I'm not ready to give up light snacking at night – because I really don't think I'm doing anything so detrimental to my health – but here is my valiant attempt at my own Food Revolution:
(1) Reduce the number of canned meals I eat for lunch.
When it's a stressful week at work, I often feel too tired to pack a proper lunch, so instead, I opt for a quick sodium-filled canned soup, or worse, canned ravioli. I'm embarrassed to admit that there have even been days when I've done double can duty: German potato salad AND soup. But for the most part, I try to bring healthy portions from my Weekend Cooking Marathons, although I am guilty of caving in to canned convenience about 6-8x a month. Jamie Oliver would probably say that's 6-8x too many that I'm NOT eating raw or unprocessed, fresh ingredients or well-rounded meals.
(2) Eat breakfast. Or at least just eat something in the morning.
Probably my worse offense is not eating "the most important meal of the day". (The quotes around this should clue you in on the fact that I'm not sure I buy into this.) I've never eaten breakfast my entire adult life and have gotten along just fine, but recently I feel like I'm hungry all the time, so I'm willing to give this a shot. And since I absolutely despise breakfast foods (except for pancakes, but who has the time to make pancakes every day?), I am looking at this goal as my own personal food challenge: to seek out non-traditional and nutritious foods to start off each morning.
It may take a superstar chef to inspire change, but it has to be your own will to make change happen.
It's a show where world-renowned chef Jamie Oliver attempts to spread a grass-roots movement to change the way Americans eat and even think about food in order to combat obesity, heart disease and diabetes in the USA, "where our children are the first generation NOT expected to to live as long as their parents." Whoah.
My hope is that this show will remind me to consciously, and – more importantly – consistently take a good look at how I eat on a daily basis. I know there are areas where I can improve. For instance, The Fella scolds me for late-night snacking, but I always rationalize and brush it off. Hey, I'm having an apple and cheese, it's not like I'm sitting down to a bowl of ice cream or a giant slice of pizza!
I'm not ready to give up light snacking at night – because I really don't think I'm doing anything so detrimental to my health – but here is my valiant attempt at my own Food Revolution:
(1) Reduce the number of canned meals I eat for lunch.
When it's a stressful week at work, I often feel too tired to pack a proper lunch, so instead, I opt for a quick sodium-filled canned soup, or worse, canned ravioli. I'm embarrassed to admit that there have even been days when I've done double can duty: German potato salad AND soup. But for the most part, I try to bring healthy portions from my Weekend Cooking Marathons, although I am guilty of caving in to canned convenience about 6-8x a month. Jamie Oliver would probably say that's 6-8x too many that I'm NOT eating raw or unprocessed, fresh ingredients or well-rounded meals.
(2) Eat breakfast. Or at least just eat something in the morning.
Probably my worse offense is not eating "the most important meal of the day". (The quotes around this should clue you in on the fact that I'm not sure I buy into this.) I've never eaten breakfast my entire adult life and have gotten along just fine, but recently I feel like I'm hungry all the time, so I'm willing to give this a shot. And since I absolutely despise breakfast foods (except for pancakes, but who has the time to make pancakes every day?), I am looking at this goal as my own personal food challenge: to seek out non-traditional and nutritious foods to start off each morning.
It may take a superstar chef to inspire change, but it has to be your own will to make change happen.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A night of old-fashioned fun
Just before I toppled the Leaning Tower of Jenga. Sadly, I was not stealthy or"spidery" enough for this, but I AM the Connect Four champion!
First of all, let me start off by asking, How the heck does it fall from nearly 70 degrees and sunny to 30 and snowy the next day?? In March!
This is also the story of how I came to be *the* Connect Four ruling champion amongst friends at a local bar...
Today had rapidly turned on me since the morning began and had never picked itself back up since. It started off windy, then sleety, then snowy, sleety, and then back to snowy all day, all night. You get the point. Chicago weather never fails to amaze me in how fickle it is. Nevertheless, The Fella and I soldiered on with our evening plans to meet friends at Jerry's Sandwiches in Wicker Park, in hopes of having another night as awesome as the one last year in which the group kicked back amidst a blizzard, Asian girl *birthdays*, micro-brewed beers, a smorgasbord of gourmet sandwiches, a failed attempt to actually watch a scary movie, and finally, a spontaneous snowball fight with dogs in the Greenview field.
Winter 2008It is a curious, little fact that the only time I ever end up at Jerry's is when it's dark, cold and snowy. I don't understand it. Maybe next time I'll enjoy Jerry's in different weather/different season, and by then, I'll be able to say
Friday, March 19, 2010
Brunch & the city
I collect Sunday brunches like children collect bugs in a jar.
Seeking out new hot spots, or returning to the tried and true, to me, brunch is the most underrated and oft-forgotten meal of the week. It's the one meal that encourages you to prolong the Wonderfulness of The Weekend by indulging in a leisurely Sunday morning with friends.
Chicagoans seem to have a love affair with brunch, and I happily joined in on this local tradition since moving here. Nearly three years later and countless memories created at each and every one, my top 5 picks are:
Milk & Honey
Time and time again, I'll always return here (and with visiting guests in tow to have an authentic Chicago brunch experience). What I love about Milk & Honey is that there's nothing trendy about the menu, which offers the same comfortable basics, freshly prepared and house-made with a gourmet twist. For me, there's no debate about what to order – Pancakes du Jour or the Crab Cake Sandwiches, and a bag of their famous house-made granola to go!
My sister visiting Chicago, and having a bowl of Milk & Honey's
yogurt with house-made granola and fresh berries.
Birchwood Kitchen
A new favorite in my very own neighborhood, it was love at first Pickled Beets-Goat Cheese-Apple Vinaigrette-Arugula Salad! I discovered this small place when The Fella and I went to a really neat "tasting concept" introducing new area
restaurants. Leslee and I later planned the beginnings of Annie's baby shower over a hot plate of Roasted Butternut Hash, Baby Spinach, Bacon, Maple Syrup and Sunny Eggs straight from the open kitchen. And yes, we topped it off with a heavenly slice of Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Bread.
Anne Sather
This is that place with the "artery-clogging, butt-fattening rolls" as my friend likes to refer to Anne Sather's popular Cinnamon Rolls. Opened in 1945, this is Chicago's true Swedish diner (who knew that we had the second largest Swedish population of any city in the world, next only to the capital of Sweden??). I had asked the waiter about the traditional Gravlax, but he said: "Don't order it, smells and tastes like smelly, moldy gym shoes." WTF? I have to admit I'm still curious about this authentic Scandinavian classic, so I will NOT be talked out of it next time. What could be so bad about raw salmon cured in sugar, salt and dill?
Bakin' & Eggs
The girls and I first had New Year's Day brunch here. (It was pretty much the only place in town that wasn't requiring pajamas attire the day after NYE.) I love its robin's egg blue throughout, exposed patches of brick walls, and really, when is the last time I can say I dined in church pew seating? Bakin' & Eggs has kinda a down-home Southern feel without serving up a gimmicky Southern menu – although I did enjoy the most delicious Hoppin' Johns special for New Year's Day brunch! And then there was that other time when The Fella and I went here for brunch, but left with an Oriental rug... whoever said brunch can't encourage spontaneity?
NoMi
The first time I had the opportunity to experience Sunday Park Brunch at this contemporary French restaurant, perched high above Magnificent Mile, was with Martha and family when they visited in 2008. (The second time was a brunch date with The Devil a.k.a. CEO of my former company in Miami, but that's a whole other story for another time.) Graced with Chihuly glass appointments, understated beige motif, NoMi is elegance at its finest. Martha and I gabbed and giggled like no time or distance had passed between us, best friends from our "U" glory days. And the signature NoMi Benedict wasn't bad either...
Poached Egg with Sauteed Spinach, Lobster Medallion and Hollandaise Sauce
And so continues my quest to find another spectacular brunch spot in my city worthy of blogging...
Mado, Sweet & Savories, Feast, and Cooking Fools, anyone?
Seeking out new hot spots, or returning to the tried and true, to me, brunch is the most underrated and oft-forgotten meal of the week. It's the one meal that encourages you to prolong the Wonderfulness of The Weekend by indulging in a leisurely Sunday morning with friends.
Chicagoans seem to have a love affair with brunch, and I happily joined in on this local tradition since moving here. Nearly three years later and countless memories created at each and every one, my top 5 picks are:
Milk & Honey
Time and time again, I'll always return here (and with visiting guests in tow to have an authentic Chicago brunch experience). What I love about Milk & Honey is that there's nothing trendy about the menu, which offers the same comfortable basics, freshly prepared and house-made with a gourmet twist. For me, there's no debate about what to order – Pancakes du Jour or the Crab Cake Sandwiches, and a bag of their famous house-made granola to go!
My sister visiting Chicago, and having a bowl of Milk & Honey'syogurt with house-made granola and fresh berries.
Birchwood Kitchen
A new favorite in my very own neighborhood, it was love at first Pickled Beets-Goat Cheese-Apple Vinaigrette-Arugula Salad! I discovered this small place when The Fella and I went to a really neat "tasting concept" introducing new area
restaurants. Leslee and I later planned the beginnings of Annie's baby shower over a hot plate of Roasted Butternut Hash, Baby Spinach, Bacon, Maple Syrup and Sunny Eggs straight from the open kitchen. And yes, we topped it off with a heavenly slice of Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Bread.Anne Sather
This is that place with the "artery-clogging, butt-fattening rolls" as my friend likes to refer to Anne Sather's popular Cinnamon Rolls. Opened in 1945, this is Chicago's true Swedish diner (who knew that we had the second largest Swedish population of any city in the world, next only to the capital of Sweden??). I had asked the waiter about the traditional Gravlax, but he said: "Don't order it, smells and tastes like smelly, moldy gym shoes." WTF? I have to admit I'm still curious about this authentic Scandinavian classic, so I will NOT be talked out of it next time. What could be so bad about raw salmon cured in sugar, salt and dill? Bakin' & Eggs
The girls and I first had New Year's Day brunch here. (It was pretty much the only place in town that wasn't requiring pajamas attire the day after NYE.) I love its robin's egg blue throughout, exposed patches of brick walls, and really, when is the last time I can say I dined in church pew seating? Bakin' & Eggs has kinda a down-home Southern feel without serving up a gimmicky Southern menu – although I did enjoy the most delicious Hoppin' Johns special for New Year's Day brunch! And then there was that other time when The Fella and I went here for brunch, but left with an Oriental rug... whoever said brunch can't encourage spontaneity?
NoMi
The first time I had the opportunity to experience Sunday Park Brunch at this contemporary French restaurant, perched high above Magnificent Mile, was with Martha and family when they visited in 2008. (The second time was a brunch date with The Devil a.k.a. CEO of my former company in Miami, but that's a whole other story for another time.) Graced with Chihuly glass appointments, understated beige motif, NoMi is elegance at its finest. Martha and I gabbed and giggled like no time or distance had passed between us, best friends from our "U" glory days. And the signature NoMi Benedict wasn't bad either...
Poached Egg with Sauteed Spinach, Lobster Medallion and Hollandaise SauceAnd so continues my quest to find another spectacular brunch spot in my city worthy of blogging...
Mado, Sweet & Savories, Feast, and Cooking Fools, anyone?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
(wo)man's best friend
That she is, woman's best friend. Literally.
The Fella has tried many a time – unsuccessfully – to bait FurFur with my shoes and accessories, presumably to teach me a lesson for littering them around the house. He dangles my high heels and purses in front of her, teasing, taunting, but to no avail. Good girl, FurFur.
On the other hand, she has no qualms about chewing dining table chair legs, magazine racks, blankets, or even a special rug from The Fella's long ago trip to Israel. It was hand-woven by an 80-year old blind man.
What He doesn't understand is that FurFur is a girly-girl – she appreciates pretty things, sparkly things. Admires them, actually. I swear, if I put on a shiny piece of jewelry, or a feathery coat, she saunters over, eyes it, and gives a dainty sniff of approval.
Thumbs up, Mommy!
FurFur wearing DGG (Dog Gone Good) bejeweled couture from her Auntie.
The Fella has tried many a time – unsuccessfully – to bait FurFur with my shoes and accessories, presumably to teach me a lesson for littering them around the house. He dangles my high heels and purses in front of her, teasing, taunting, but to no avail. Good girl, FurFur.
On the other hand, she has no qualms about chewing dining table chair legs, magazine racks, blankets, or even a special rug from The Fella's long ago trip to Israel. It was hand-woven by an 80-year old blind man.
What He doesn't understand is that FurFur is a girly-girl – she appreciates pretty things, sparkly things. Admires them, actually. I swear, if I put on a shiny piece of jewelry, or a feathery coat, she saunters over, eyes it, and gives a dainty sniff of approval.
Thumbs up, Mommy!
FurFur wearing DGG (Dog Gone Good) bejeweled couture from her Auntie.Wednesday, March 17, 2010
The final hurrah!
This year's St. Patty's Day was chock full of corned beef and cabbage, potatoes, and green beer in 100% Chicago-Irish fashion. True to form, my colleagues and I crashed the annual J.F. McKinney/Clune Construction bash at Celtic Crossing (this justified, of course, by the fact that we produced the invitation).
But tonight's party spirit brought back a wave of nostalgia for what seems like a whole other lifetime. Three years ago to this day, I was celebrating the beginning of a new life. It was my "You're getting hitched!" party weekend in Miami, and my best girlfriends and I were whooping it up on South Beach. I remember exactly where I was, who I was, and more importantly – how I felt in that very moment, buzzing with excitement and glowing with anticipation for what lie ahead.
And so we five rocked our strange mix of bachelorette-wear, tiaras and clover bead necklaces to paint the Beach green ––
miami style quarter bus suntanning breeze hotel check-in happy hour sunset greek food plate smashing napkin throwing belly dancing opa! swinging from light fixtures guns & roses starry night rocking out pole dancing purdy lounging winding down fiery sunrise balcony view gold gilded mirror chocolate croissants coffee lots of coffee vip cabanas beach umbrellas seagulls white sand red bikinis red convertibles laffy taffy collins ave reflection pool blue skies shrimp ceviche fancy sandwiches giggle fit happy sunshine! ––
and to complete the picture of one of my very favorite moments in time...
The girls and I, minus Janell who is busy capturing this moment.
March 17, 2007
But tonight's party spirit brought back a wave of nostalgia for what seems like a whole other lifetime. Three years ago to this day, I was celebrating the beginning of a new life. It was my "You're getting hitched!" party weekend in Miami, and my best girlfriends and I were whooping it up on South Beach. I remember exactly where I was, who I was, and more importantly – how I felt in that very moment, buzzing with excitement and glowing with anticipation for what lie ahead.
And so we five rocked our strange mix of bachelorette-wear, tiaras and clover bead necklaces to paint the Beach green ––
miami style quarter bus suntanning breeze hotel check-in happy hour sunset greek food plate smashing napkin throwing belly dancing opa! swinging from light fixtures guns & roses starry night rocking out pole dancing purdy lounging winding down fiery sunrise balcony view gold gilded mirror chocolate croissants coffee lots of coffee vip cabanas beach umbrellas seagulls white sand red bikinis red convertibles laffy taffy collins ave reflection pool blue skies shrimp ceviche fancy sandwiches giggle fit happy sunshine! ––
and to complete the picture of one of my very favorite moments in time...
The girls and I, minus Janell who is busy capturing this moment. March 17, 2007
Monday, March 15, 2010
O' the spaces and workplaces I'll go
In Miami, I once had a large-pane window view beside my desk.
It looked into my boss’s office. When I wasn't busy gazing into the dull depths of his office, I might stare instead at the standard-issue, off-white wall in front of my computer.
Hasta luego, sad little offices -- it's time to trade up!
On Chicago spaces-
Before this, I worked in a spacious West Loop converted loft. The three story building just blocks away from Lady O's studio was all ours -- key fob entry, soaring ceilings, wall-to-wall windows, plasma-screen TVs, and exposed piping screamed "We're interactive web geeks!".
On Chicago workplaces-
Pizza-making sessions, lunchtime yoga, Rock Band face-offs, snowball fights, watermelon eating contests, beer and wine happy hours in the office, FRIDAY SUMMER HOURS? These are the rule, not the exception! One time at bep, we decided it was necessary to conduct official group “testing” for bugs in an interactive Flash game application we developed. For the sake of quality control, of course. (Read between the lines: we play games during lunch).
In Chicago, there is a sense of community I never felt in Miami. My colleagues and I have uncorked a bottle together of celebratory champagne a la Sex & the City at the installation site of a barricade we produced across from the Merchandise Mart. I've watched the Blue Angels rehearse for the Air & Sea Show from bep’s rooftop deck. On Inauguration Day, you can bet we shut down the office and headed for the bar to eat, drink and toast to Obama! (Never mind it was 10am on Tuesday.) As for tomorrow, well, we're thinking of crashing a client's St. Patty's Day event at Celtic Crossing...
I hope I never have to leave this Wonderland.
It looked into my boss’s office. When I wasn't busy gazing into the dull depths of his office, I might stare instead at the standard-issue, off-white wall in front of my computer.
Hasta luego, sad little offices -- it's time to trade up!
On Chicago spaces-
Louis Ghost Chairs by Philippe Starck around the conference table.
Everyday I go to work in the artsy River North neighborhood in a three-flat, vintage brownstone that positively breathes elegance. With antique crystal chandeliers, custom crown moulding, and winding wrought-iron staircases, it was designed with the whole space in mind to appeal to all of the senses. We made beige hot again -- beige drapes, beige walls, and beige chairs, all in varying shades and luxe textures. Here beige is the new black.
Before this, I worked in a spacious West Loop converted loft. The three story building just blocks away from Lady O's studio was all ours -- key fob entry, soaring ceilings, wall-to-wall windows, plasma-screen TVs, and exposed piping screamed "We're interactive web geeks!".
Second floor of bep Interactive, the scene of many a Wii tourney.
On Chicago workplaces-
Pizza-making sessions, lunchtime yoga, Rock Band face-offs, snowball fights, watermelon eating contests, beer and wine happy hours in the office, FRIDAY SUMMER HOURS? These are the rule, not the exception! One time at bep, we decided it was necessary to conduct official group “testing” for bugs in an interactive Flash game application we developed. For the sake of quality control, of course. (Read between the lines: we play games during lunch).
In Chicago, there is a sense of community I never felt in Miami. My colleagues and I have uncorked a bottle together of celebratory champagne a la Sex & the City at the installation site of a barricade we produced across from the Merchandise Mart. I've watched the Blue Angels rehearse for the Air & Sea Show from bep’s rooftop deck. On Inauguration Day, you can bet we shut down the office and headed for the bar to eat, drink and toast to Obama! (Never mind it was 10am on Tuesday.) As for tomorrow, well, we're thinking of crashing a client's St. Patty's Day event at Celtic Crossing...
I hope I never have to leave this Wonderland.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Where floats go to die
Where floats go to die – at the end of the parade route,near the underground entrance of Upper Wacker Bridge.
I would most certainly be more of a homebody, that's for sure. One look at today's non-stop dreary, drizzly weather, and I had already made up my mind to skip out on the group's rather ambitious St. Patty's revelry: witness the Chicago River being dyed green in the early morning hours, catch the parade, have lunch and drinks, and then bar hop throughout the night around Lincoln Park. (Chicagoans get this party started a weekend early!)
[A side note: From what I've been told, St. Patty's partying in Chicago is an all-day affair and happens in shifts: drinking begins at 8am, then the people pass out, wake up in time for Round 2 in the early afternoon, pass out, and (some) wake up again for Rounds 3 and 4 beginning at 6pm and 9pm respectively.]
Anyhow, with some prodding from friends, I donned my best Scottish cape and The Fella and I joined our friends despite the nasty weather. This was my first St. Patty's in town – a city with a large Irish community, hard-core Notre Dame fans, and rowdy college students who use any holiday as an excuse to party hard.It was quite the experience! From the "L" ride to the parade route downtown to lunch at Fox & Obel (because we couldn't get within 10 feet of Lizzy McNeil's, D4, or any Irish pub for that matter), everywhere you looked was a sea of green and I was being swept up in it.
Thanks to my pals for giving me my very first "Wicked green" river, leprechauns, men in kilts, life-sized green chameleons darting across traffic, electric green velour snuggies, and space chicks with alien babies... not certain how it all relates to St. Patty's, but – in keeping with the Chicago spirit – WHY NOT?
Upper Wacker BridgeSaturday, March 13, 2010
St. elsewhere
Well, we finally did it.
[Big sigh of relief.]
We booked our trip to Russia. For varying degrees of reasons, this is probably the most difficult trip The Fella and I have ever attempted. More difficult than planning an extensive road trip through Spain, France, Italy and Monaco (2005); an excursion to Africa (2009); touring the Mediterranean and Turkey (2007); even a cross-country trip across Southeast Asia with five family members (2008)!
This could either be a good thing in that it means Russia will be the most worthwhile and memorable trip EVER taken, or a bad thing in that we tried too hard to make it happen and it wasn't really meant to be. You decide, I sure can't.
It all began when a big group trip in May to the Caribbean fell apart, spinning the wheels in motion to instead go elsewhere exotic. The Fella and I tossed around New Zealand (too expensive), South Africa (not enough time off to go this far), Costa Rica (why didn't we go there when we lived in Miami?), Poland (too rainy that time of year)... and finally, he wildly and jokingly suggested Russia. Those are his roots, after all.
I have to admit, I was intrigued by this idea for one selfish reason: how far and away can I go before having kids? Then The Fella checked out a travel book of Moscow and St. Petersburg from the library, and before long, I was dreaming of seeing the bonfire flames of St. Basil's Cathedral rising into the sky, the famed Red Square, and the Kremlin!
Frommer's travel guide to Russia.
And so, one obstacle after another later, we managed to book another trip of a lifetime.
I'm excited and also a tad nervous. Me: "Honey, have you heard of Aeroflot?" The Fella: "Yea, I think it's a French operated." Me, googling: "Honey, it says it's a Russian airline." The Fella: "Oh shit, we're going to die."
[Big sigh of relief.]
We booked our trip to Russia. For varying degrees of reasons, this is probably the most difficult trip The Fella and I have ever attempted. More difficult than planning an extensive road trip through Spain, France, Italy and Monaco (2005); an excursion to Africa (2009); touring the Mediterranean and Turkey (2007); even a cross-country trip across Southeast Asia with five family members (2008)!
This could either be a good thing in that it means Russia will be the most worthwhile and memorable trip EVER taken, or a bad thing in that we tried too hard to make it happen and it wasn't really meant to be. You decide, I sure can't.
It all began when a big group trip in May to the Caribbean fell apart, spinning the wheels in motion to instead go elsewhere exotic. The Fella and I tossed around New Zealand (too expensive), South Africa (not enough time off to go this far), Costa Rica (why didn't we go there when we lived in Miami?), Poland (too rainy that time of year)... and finally, he wildly and jokingly suggested Russia. Those are his roots, after all.
I have to admit, I was intrigued by this idea for one selfish reason: how far and away can I go before having kids? Then The Fella checked out a travel book of Moscow and St. Petersburg from the library, and before long, I was dreaming of seeing the bonfire flames of St. Basil's Cathedral rising into the sky, the famed Red Square, and the Kremlin!
Frommer's travel guide to Russia.And so, one obstacle after another later, we managed to book another trip of a lifetime.
I'm excited and also a tad nervous. Me: "Honey, have you heard of Aeroflot?" The Fella: "Yea, I think it's a French operated." Me, googling: "Honey, it says it's a Russian airline." The Fella: "Oh shit, we're going to die."
The meaning of ice cream trucks
I knew Spring had finally arrived in Chicago when I heard the first tinkling notes of the ice cream truck last Sunday. It rolls up aimlessly, gravitates to the building next door, and comes to a long musical pause as the Mexican kids come running out shrieking. Thirty minutes of looping musical nonsense never sounded so good to me after 6 long months – cold, snow, ice, hail; shoveling, brushing, trudging, plowing – of a Chicago winter. That's enough for me to embrace the Ice Cream Man himself. My Spring is here!
Last Spring was marked with weekend trips away: I painted the Big Apple green with a random convergence of fellow "U" alumni friends on St. Patty's weekend, took a trip down memory lane on my 2 year wedding anniversary with The Fella back home in South Florida, and celebrated my mom's 60th birthday with just the girls in Sin City.
This Spring I'm very much looking forward to just enjoying the Chicago weather and stoop-sittin' with the dog (yes, I bring a touch of Miami ghetto-ness here!). It's one of my favorite activities to welcome the new season: we have our brunch together on the front steps, read the weekend edition of Red Eye, and people-watch.
I'm looking forward to the soccer playing guys turning the school's concrete walkway into a make-shift field, rooftop shindigs, and trees blooming. I'm looking forward to dog parties in the grassy school property across the street, robins chirping, and even warmer weather which brings Ice Cream Man #2, this one with his old-school push cart of frozen goodies and hand-tooted bell ringing through the neighborhood.
Give me another few months of the endless drone of Ice Cream Men, I'm sure I'll be ready for the quiet that Winter brings.
Last Spring was marked with weekend trips away: I painted the Big Apple green with a random convergence of fellow "U" alumni friends on St. Patty's weekend, took a trip down memory lane on my 2 year wedding anniversary with The Fella back home in South Florida, and celebrated my mom's 60th birthday with just the girls in Sin City.
This Spring I'm very much looking forward to just enjoying the Chicago weather and stoop-sittin' with the dog (yes, I bring a touch of Miami ghetto-ness here!). It's one of my favorite activities to welcome the new season: we have our brunch together on the front steps, read the weekend edition of Red Eye, and people-watch.
I'm looking forward to the soccer playing guys turning the school's concrete walkway into a make-shift field, rooftop shindigs, and trees blooming. I'm looking forward to dog parties in the grassy school property across the street, robins chirping, and even warmer weather which brings Ice Cream Man #2, this one with his old-school push cart of frozen goodies and hand-tooted bell ringing through the neighborhood.
Give me another few months of the endless drone of Ice Cream Men, I'm sure I'll be ready for the quiet that Winter brings.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Book Club vs. Alcohol Club
"Olive Kitteridge" at Leslee's rooftop on an impossibly beautiful spring evening.
That got me remembering. A year and a quarter ago, one of my closest friends in Chicago, Leslee, had the idea to form Book Club. I waffled a bit about committing at first -- Leslee is a children's librarian and I was sure the others would force me to read the likes of Tolstoy-someone-or-other. Let's put it this way, I wasn't sure I could Keep Up with the Kardashians (know what I'm saying?), either in terms of time or desire to read literature outside of my preferred genre. But nevertheless, I saw this as an opportunity to try something new, and so the story goes of how I ended up belonging to a group of fun, warm, and accomplished girl friends. (That's also the story of how Alcohol Club was born, an idea conceived by The Fella in response to our get-togethers. The men eat our food, then run out for beer and shenanigans at a local joint while we do our thing.)
Book Club isn't what I expected, nor is it the stereotype that others paint in their minds when they hear you're in one. It's guaranteed monthly laughter, snarky remarks about Vincent Donofrio, cocktail shrimp on the rooftop, gritty Bangalore, revelations about marriage, comfy couches, snapshots of 1970s NYC by way of a tight-rope walker perched between the Twin Towers and heroin-hooked prostitutes in the Bronx 'hood, tasty nibbles and red wine laced with tales of husbands dripping paint on silk Turkish rugs, glimpses into the China when girls had their feet bound, cupcakes in a West Loop loft, Venetian affairs, sighs about the work week, hugs.
It's sometimes a battle between the sexes with Book Club vs. Alcohol Club, but I have a warm and fuzzy feeling knowing that the girls and guys closest to me can maintain our separate interests and activities, while coming together at the end of the night. I might be in Book Club – and married – but that sure doesn't mean I don't have fun.Monday, March 8, 2010
Treasure-hunting
Something I love about Chicago is the variety of unusual things to do in the city any time of the year. Last Saturday morning, I picked up the weekend edition of the Red Eye on my front stoop, opened it up to the "Things to Do This Weekend" page, and found myself in the predicament of how to be in several places at once!
I convinced The Fella to spend the day with me at The Vintage Bazaar, a modern, pop-up flea market, a veritable vintage and antiques marketplace for the thrifty set. It was love at first concept! I was itching to recapture that feeling I'd get when I used to browse the antiques fair in NYC's South Street Seaport and hold something that felt rich with history.
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