tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44051704547872368332024-03-12T19:32:28.714-04:00EcoCulinairemusings that nourish from the bold new city of the SouthNanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-33651588266814621812013-09-15T10:37:00.001-04:002013-10-12T22:40:15.982-04:00Legendary Guerilla Dining<div style="color: #274e13;">
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</script>The Legends Series. Maybe you have heard of it...maybe not. That is the nature of guerrilla dining...elusive, spontaneous, transient. The Legends Series began in January 2012. The experience was <a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2012/02/legends-of-food.html" target="_blank">magic.</a> Over the past year and a half I have had the luxury of enjoying each subversive <a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2012/06/fine-food-factory.html" target="_blank">feast </a>with the special designation of a <i>chef's wife. </i>It is a unique perspective...a really beautiful thing watching people indulge and ravage your love's art. These events are unique, because it is one of the few places where Chef and his friends can express their creative genius in a space where anything is possible, free from the menu confines of their restaurants. It is fine art, that can only be experienced in a specific place in time. Unlike a concert where you can buy a recording of the performance, or a gallery opening where you can re-visit the art at your leisure...culinary art is only meant to be experienced in the moment it is placed before you. It is truly existential, ephemeral in that way. A once in a lifetime type of thing.</div>
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Here is a montage of some of my favorite shots from the past year of dinners. I don't have any pictures from Legends III because it was housed in a secret private car collection and cameras were not allowed. Enjoy!</div>
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Legends IV : The Florida Theater</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Mz-cNDTJylLuNzvzu-LXO1tYI1ie450FYknWmj1CBPOdSd2WK674W_IHFjCxEOEdAOdK4FgUvfgA_dMBd8pGwJ0-KiODIuDGb1Uw8yUK93DJ-gvoDXpGaMwhdRZ8hASrM-HaAXlEllM/s1600/IMG_0849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Mz-cNDTJylLuNzvzu-LXO1tYI1ie450FYknWmj1CBPOdSd2WK674W_IHFjCxEOEdAOdK4FgUvfgA_dMBd8pGwJ0-KiODIuDGb1Uw8yUK93DJ-gvoDXpGaMwhdRZ8hASrM-HaAXlEllM/s320/IMG_0849.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Held in January, this feast had a holiday theme. </div>
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It took place on the stage of the historic <a href="http://floridatheatre.com/" target="_blank">Florida Theater.</a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZxAqXgUVtrlVf5cUFNhngYc7HjdvI0p9z1kzwXL4VNoyMuUFSW-GqqTJhWHlEIDG5_x_ozouRFWwsasdapjrYmeOthcsrTDfTvO9NAsl2KWyyFVteTBKnq-M8J5sMEvQGUS2n1qwIr0/s1600/IMG_0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZxAqXgUVtrlVf5cUFNhngYc7HjdvI0p9z1kzwXL4VNoyMuUFSW-GqqTJhWHlEIDG5_x_ozouRFWwsasdapjrYmeOthcsrTDfTvO9NAsl2KWyyFVteTBKnq-M8J5sMEvQGUS2n1qwIr0/s320/IMG_0844.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chefs were challenged to create dishes that revolved around holiday food. Here is Chef Sam Efron's play on <i>turducken. </i>A roulade of turkey stuffed with chicken mousse and duck confit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sXlW3Sf_S_1gcpmjdR734yGQUdefHGi93G2qJVzfqITY7vDc8o8ez_CiAUnTFb3D1hRtjT8n8XlKwb4_uhggdp_UTlQ24ffuNgW_tHb0kYjWk1PiB1EaKzW5S2Xv5AgeBZvT8Kpg4Hg/s1600/IMG_0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sXlW3Sf_S_1gcpmjdR734yGQUdefHGi93G2qJVzfqITY7vDc8o8ez_CiAUnTFb3D1hRtjT8n8XlKwb4_uhggdp_UTlQ24ffuNgW_tHb0kYjWk1PiB1EaKzW5S2Xv5AgeBZvT8Kpg4Hg/s320/IMG_0861.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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For dessert we moved from the stage to the balcony for a live opera performance. </div>
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It was extraordinary.</div>
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Legends V</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_Lf_kk5ELip_-etTJt3II90piNLxYIhG7Zel2S80AA6lJdKOqW4RuuYtwMNosI-fh3uFKokDV_ZlxJDtcRMTlkG3xsa0id2Gv25K_pGtLX-w47N8rUZVDpAzHtt6xhFh4DFEdziF58k/s1600/IMG_1233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_Lf_kk5ELip_-etTJt3II90piNLxYIhG7Zel2S80AA6lJdKOqW4RuuYtwMNosI-fh3uFKokDV_ZlxJDtcRMTlkG3xsa0id2Gv25K_pGtLX-w47N8rUZVDpAzHtt6xhFh4DFEdziF58k/s320/IMG_1233.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This dinner was staged at the<a href="http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00095523/00001/1j" target="_blank"> Dee-Dot Ranch</a>. It was a collaboration between iconic local artist Jim Draper and his recent <i>Feast of Flowers</i> exhibition. Each menu was a limited edition signed screen print...an original artwork for each guest to take home.</div>
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This was one of my favorite dinners of the series. </div>
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It was one of those nights where there was a spark in the air. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-37H_hBQVkFu7r70FYq_8J09UJVw2eEOREx0kKhsZfYyjlE8P8VlUgxIxZ4Q3SmgO8RQkAmlLFMqIk3KTAIwrds-kx4h5p1DZqevBjHt88C_WN4CStqGrDdolrFJh_Wl4ndAtIWQM44/s1600/IMG_1246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-37H_hBQVkFu7r70FYq_8J09UJVw2eEOREx0kKhsZfYyjlE8P8VlUgxIxZ4Q3SmgO8RQkAmlLFMqIk3KTAIwrds-kx4h5p1DZqevBjHt88C_WN4CStqGrDdolrFJh_Wl4ndAtIWQM44/s320/IMG_1246.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0PHnBcJUy8CNHJMpCYCgrFVSmWTnk7mMeWvhlrdFCcB2oV3mApv-f6L8-Mpp2vIbNFUjcDrS8W0Qp3Fa7CN_8R7So2x1K_OuHfdpBFnYZWGO6B8_ROWuIpIBxvO5pAh8fMev74faa0U/s1600/IMG_1240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0PHnBcJUy8CNHJMpCYCgrFVSmWTnk7mMeWvhlrdFCcB2oV3mApv-f6L8-Mpp2vIbNFUjcDrS8W0Qp3Fa7CN_8R7So2x1K_OuHfdpBFnYZWGO6B8_ROWuIpIBxvO5pAh8fMev74faa0U/s320/IMG_1240.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
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The entertainment included a modern dance troop that performed in canoes on the water, accompanied by a live cellist.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY5OurmieTgrEDpV6AjFDoCzfzPjOBZl1mxEHxr4hrNvVTiYXB9xyZMZJdbu1izSYwBbW5JkpmJUtgT4yYIo7HsK22bOoitjC4awZUHsUDIlFfakmOSMPEXlPKyQzDa3puHz44nilSuM/s1600/IMG_1274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY5OurmieTgrEDpV6AjFDoCzfzPjOBZl1mxEHxr4hrNvVTiYXB9xyZMZJdbu1izSYwBbW5JkpmJUtgT4yYIo7HsK22bOoitjC4awZUHsUDIlFfakmOSMPEXlPKyQzDa3puHz44nilSuM/s320/IMG_1274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love this shot. It is the chefs working in the barn kitchen. All of the food had to include an ingredient that was sourced from the property by a duo of foragers from Asheville, NC.</div>
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Legends 6</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFsr-UN33SxkitXLzwR_PfTsZPIxG3sQSfZoXI4I9DX686ANc4H0MWPfmJ9jxUeO-BnevG-yDHdpLaF24Rs9bsI-PwojLps2PCFCmqv361vn4KypcH2xQ1LuiaF42A4_B7KbwZWIwM6Y/s1600/chefslegend6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFsr-UN33SxkitXLzwR_PfTsZPIxG3sQSfZoXI4I9DX686ANc4H0MWPfmJ9jxUeO-BnevG-yDHdpLaF24Rs9bsI-PwojLps2PCFCmqv361vn4KypcH2xQ1LuiaF42A4_B7KbwZWIwM6Y/s320/chefslegend6.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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In celebration of <a href="http://www.beonespark.com/" target="_blank">One Spark</a>, the world's first crowdfunding festival, this dinner was held in a parking garage in Jacksonville's urban core and the entertainment included a rocking DJ and break dance group. I had a series of killer pictures of this event, but alas lost them in a disc burning fiasco. </div>
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The picture above survived. It was of Chef's dish, </div>
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<i>Potato Crusted Sable with Creamed Leeks, Benton Ham and Pinot Butte</i>r.</div>
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It was one of the most amazing things I have ever put in my mouth. And I was not alone in that sentiment. People approached me throughout the evening to tell me that this dish was unforgettable.</div>
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<b>Tickets go on sale next for the 2013 Fall Legends Series Dinner. Go here to learn more:<a href="http://thelegendseriesjax.com/" target="_blank"> legends</a></b></div>
<b style="color: #274e13;">Best of luck. Hope to see you there!</b> <script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ja32ldoJ3WwS4kkY0YzsnVzdUYzQSguAlNk12PrMLnWV5nDZY8RWsTsvQNewTJERq4fkZFgZPiyTEgby8S830aqPSV43FQckDQfx6mqSw2gWBfUkTbIaJAn-jzsctuHxqGJXqKcOW5A/s1600/HPIM3129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ja32ldoJ3WwS4kkY0YzsnVzdUYzQSguAlNk12PrMLnWV5nDZY8RWsTsvQNewTJERq4fkZFgZPiyTEgby8S830aqPSV43FQckDQfx6mqSw2gWBfUkTbIaJAn-jzsctuHxqGJXqKcOW5A/s320/HPIM3129.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div>
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Labor Day. I can't think about Labor Day, without thinking about actual labor. As in laboring to bring a child into the world. As in laboring to raise said child into a bright, kind, beautiful being. As in the most intense work I have ever endeavored. Labor Day.</div>
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This is my youngest...within the first minutes of life. She was a seven hour labor. Born on March 17th at 7:17 pm. She is so freaked out. Who can blame her? Why not swaddle her in a warm blanket? Looking back on it...the heat lamp is an intense experience to have right outside the gate, if you know what I mean? I had nursed her, and then the nurse swooped her up to clean us both up from delivery. I will never forget that cry from across the room. </div>
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Work is relative. Last week, I was researching for a lesson plan on Ancient Egypt, when I came across the fact that the Egyptians were the first people to ever strike against unfair labor conditions. It happened during the reign of Ramsey III in 12 B.C., and you can actually read the documented record of the strike <a href="http://libcom.org/history/records-of-the-strike-in-egypt-under-ramses-iii" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Here is a snippet: </div>
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"The two chiefs of police ... Pharaoh, the accounts scribe Hednakht, the
god-fathers of this administration (came out (?)) to hear their
statement. They said to them<a class="see-footnote" href="http://libcom.org/history/records-of-the-strike-in-egypt-under-ramses-iii#footnote12_0u8i836" id="footnoteref12_0u8i836" title="i.e the strikers to the officials. ">12</a>: "The prospect of hunger and thirst has driven us to this; there is no clothing, there is no ointment<a class="see-footnote" href="http://libcom.org/history/records-of-the-strike-in-egypt-under-ramses-iii#footnote13_ngfx73l" id="footnoteref13_ngfx73l" title="of not insignificant importance in a hot fry climate.">13</a>, there is no fish<a class="see-footnote" href="http://libcom.org/history/records-of-the-strike-in-egypt-under-ramses-iii#footnote14_dfewnyz" id="footnoteref14_dfewnyz" title="the main source of protein. ">14</a>,
there are no vegetables. Send to Pharaoh, our good lord, about it, and
send to the vizier, our superior, that we may be supplied with
provisions.""</div>
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<i style="color: #274e13;">There is no fish.</i><span style="color: #274e13;"> When was the last time you were paid in fish? Not a bad idea. There are many Americans who labor full time and find themselves struggling to put food on the table. Labor begins with life. Work it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWtOJSQLr1reKyhv0ZzMb6oyKKEInaChYTGCo99sE-nYq-mNeUOpFUfcbbd1alFuW6t1ArFJ6_CsQ-J7ob7dibGhwt2EXXfSbX3pNJeJXzaL65v4E5Z1l_YJyVDCUcjc7isihXnFk6lU/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWtOJSQLr1reKyhv0ZzMb6oyKKEInaChYTGCo99sE-nYq-mNeUOpFUfcbbd1alFuW6t1ArFJ6_CsQ-J7ob7dibGhwt2EXXfSbX3pNJeJXzaL65v4E5Z1l_YJyVDCUcjc7isihXnFk6lU/s320/IMG_0710.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div>
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Simple seasonal salads. This is a salad I made earlier this summer...when cucumbers were still plentiful in this godforsaken sweltering state. I am on a mission this year to develop a repertoire of super delicious ridiculously easy salads. This is a take on a traditional Greek salad (minus olives and feta). It is fresh, easy, and low cal. Might make a nice side for Sunday Supper.</div>
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1 pint/ 1 lb of small tomatoes cut in half (cherry, campari, roma taste best) </div>
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1 medium cucumber cut lengthwise then quartered</div>
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1/3 cup sherry vinegar</div>
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1/3 cup of olive oil</div>
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1/2 teaspoon teaspoon of dry oregano</div>
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salt and pepper to taste.</div>
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If you want to go Greek with it...throw in a handful of good kalamata olives and feta</div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Enjoy!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildBjCVJ2eVOMSnIAfImwSAXirKKj75xKIvKuTVaQiCFK3rajHbKJezQWgPQLM5ttOaeSMdz6uwV95kSBHTEbMW3BuR5omX2PvWmEaBmQPCZDKfIX2STtiak2KGjdVWLDV3UyKi31ddPk/s1600/IMG_0679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildBjCVJ2eVOMSnIAfImwSAXirKKj75xKIvKuTVaQiCFK3rajHbKJezQWgPQLM5ttOaeSMdz6uwV95kSBHTEbMW3BuR5omX2PvWmEaBmQPCZDKfIX2STtiak2KGjdVWLDV3UyKi31ddPk/s400/IMG_0679.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
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I can't believe it has been so long. It makes me sad. Life just grabbed me by the boobs this year, and I just couldn't figure out how wrestle them back and be here. My heart missed here. I am going to try harder, starting today. This lil' blog may be a bit more photo driven, but it will <i>be.</i> That's all that matters.</div>
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This lovely lady above...her name is Ginny. Ginny owns <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/travel/video/2012/oct/17/ginnys-little-longhorn-chicken-shit-bingo-austin-video" target="_blank">Ginny's Little Long Horn Saloon</a> in Austin, Texas. She took it over after her husband passed away in the early 90's. After spending three days in Austin trying to find that bar that made me feel like I lived in Texas, like I was a local...not a local going out for craft cocktails...but a local that drinks cheap beer and remembers when Stevie Ray Vaughn used to play in town. I found the real deal in this shoebox dive. Ginny, on Sundays she hosts this little game called Chicken Shit Bingo. This little closet of a bar fills with folks until they spill out into the street to watch chickens poop on plywood. All the while, Ginny and her daughter sling cheap beers and collect piles of cash. Did I mention it is cash only? These women are genius. This is a picture of her daughter and a fella who bought me and my friend a drink for a conversation. I love this picture.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz_C1GfaYNmNapxdWZHRFFR-r45zuLjknedAnR1tEd-coe2ViJrDkBZfkvRY9lHpLMNQFe8spidWSeGVFJ2FGdztKUlS8NnL39i8LIpnEP_LyDJnmt1w-6BfCtU2gDrTdmfTMu0GdiU8/s1600/IMG_0686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz_C1GfaYNmNapxdWZHRFFR-r45zuLjknedAnR1tEd-coe2ViJrDkBZfkvRY9lHpLMNQFe8spidWSeGVFJ2FGdztKUlS8NnL39i8LIpnEP_LyDJnmt1w-6BfCtU2gDrTdmfTMu0GdiU8/s320/IMG_0686.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Watching Ginny, in this honky tonk living her life and enjoying every minute of it, taking every rowdy "Can I get a beer?" in stride...it made me think about how I live my own life. Just look at her shirt. She is a bad ass. This year, I am going to channel Ginny. Her energy. Her smile. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nRpZvxlgYG65_plToksZ0pWH5iL6eJFc78pF2nE_KmmymBzVK7ciX-py4WfAbxiWUSo0e8fQ4CQ5Hk9KIKI2n3J7dGgihly9E0GWNEtdDhh0_8PN6pKijwWGKcytGsuVDNodgemb_78/s1600/IMG_0695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nRpZvxlgYG65_plToksZ0pWH5iL6eJFc78pF2nE_KmmymBzVK7ciX-py4WfAbxiWUSo0e8fQ4CQ5Hk9KIKI2n3J7dGgihly9E0GWNEtdDhh0_8PN6pKijwWGKcytGsuVDNodgemb_78/s400/IMG_0695.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Her chili dogs. Did I mention that she makes chili dogs and sets them up free for anyone who wants to mow down.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQXf0IXuINFxfl7vUqBVNx9GsecOHWUy4ohzzp-HCjvSdZL3DyUCFNm15aZmu9CnUP3LYOfVs-GTN8Ccq13OXDyY-vm1A7aLEmkJyjOcFXokymW3-pvbMfJJde5h6mSBFbGBEUQDK8Zw/s1600/IMG_0647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQXf0IXuINFxfl7vUqBVNx9GsecOHWUy4ohzzp-HCjvSdZL3DyUCFNm15aZmu9CnUP3LYOfVs-GTN8Ccq13OXDyY-vm1A7aLEmkJyjOcFXokymW3-pvbMfJJde5h6mSBFbGBEUQDK8Zw/s320/IMG_0647.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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This is her prepping the buffet before the rush. Putting everything out there for anyone to enjoy...or not. Life is about putting yourself out there...and not giving a chicken shit about what happens. Because even chicken shit can raise a laugh and land you a fist full of dough. Ginny is living proof.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAL_yjI_Irg4PUjJTaf-5zkt0ISWAW1cFaMju01SG8dp5JYLwH13uA7UUjFG-dEKRPL4iSq9JFl7t9QGGLO8vUXVa672YH4Wb0ycOIPb4IDKtHY9UALURSgmGCkNzdCMkh_3OER3ii9g/s1600/IMG_0487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAL_yjI_Irg4PUjJTaf-5zkt0ISWAW1cFaMju01SG8dp5JYLwH13uA7UUjFG-dEKRPL4iSq9JFl7t9QGGLO8vUXVa672YH4Wb0ycOIPb4IDKtHY9UALURSgmGCkNzdCMkh_3OER3ii9g/s320/IMG_0487.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Huzzah! You have no idea how long I have been attempting to write a post, but Blogger has had some weird software glitch that would not let me type for some reason. But now it is back and working, so here I am typing away. Hurray!</div>
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Poot juice. The phrase cracks me up every time I hear my daughter say it. Just this morning, as I listened to the kitchen radio reporting some terrorizing tragedy over my cup of morning coffee...she came into the kitchen and asked, "Mama, I have some poot juice?" I immediately went from dread to giggles.</div>
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Poot juice. Just say it out loud. It is really just the word "poot." This word is a total game changer. Turns any frown upside down. As far as language development goes, I hope this bit of toddler talk lingers a while.</div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">In fact, I could use a tall glass of poot juice right now. All this election talk has mama's blood pressure up and running.</span><br />
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<br />Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-2862181893673953902012-07-09T15:58:00.000-04:002012-07-09T15:58:15.367-04:00Butter Flick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KBrEbGyfTgk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </div>
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When I was a child I was dared to eat a stick of butter. I didn't like butter, or mayo for that matter. I choked down half the stick and almost puked. This summer, I took a film studies class and one of the assignments was to make a one minute movie inspired by the modernist movie, Ballet Mèchanique by Fernand Leger (1924, France). Leger used many kitchen objects in the film and abstracted them, transforming the mundane into art.</div>
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Today, I love butter. So much so that it inspired this short. Butter makes everything better. </div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Enjoy!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0F_MAsdfT3tSxuZUvwakoyb_KppELJ_xkEBibdTJYwqoYGmCl-H9XF11eSYVs5rkV2c7VCgkqK1CiFkiK305b0HA_LEbhkvHokTErqxWW_DxQur54eOB0CPhIRYmDBmcuwxOYr5kKpoI/s1600/IMG_9185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0F_MAsdfT3tSxuZUvwakoyb_KppELJ_xkEBibdTJYwqoYGmCl-H9XF11eSYVs5rkV2c7VCgkqK1CiFkiK305b0HA_LEbhkvHokTErqxWW_DxQur54eOB0CPhIRYmDBmcuwxOYr5kKpoI/s320/IMG_9185.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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Remember how I mentioned <a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2012/02/legends-of-food.html" target="_blank">guerrilla dining</a> a while back?<a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2012/02/legends-of-food.html" target="_blank"> </a></div>
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Check out this table.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfW1Tb4bdmN-8yqeikvPxyLudfTC1gQ88xbkTRllvMdoBMWpORizNp9k2-VhVJ5OuQk5I8wN_s1YOFYlNJ3ZoV0csEad7UwPIQwq-r4zmA8aj4K2gX_Hwa3PSHdU7HHoYzQlZmlXWxck/s1600/IMG_9143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfW1Tb4bdmN-8yqeikvPxyLudfTC1gQ88xbkTRllvMdoBMWpORizNp9k2-VhVJ5OuQk5I8wN_s1YOFYlNJ3ZoV0csEad7UwPIQwq-r4zmA8aj4K2gX_Hwa3PSHdU7HHoYzQlZmlXWxck/s320/IMG_9143.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div>
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The Legend Series II dinner took place in an old<br />
Ford assembly plant on the St. John's River.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUqIIQ8xvX1KSeMxc8v910iuE_GNf9Br2fdVEEJAxqVlXj58Nm1enUAjxYPijhNLmzT7Yp1fRADaTdnZ-j9fIb6S3_wsZu1GqPWi_1dkwEunw9MClks_cJd7-CPu6LBkNUygxKNbAp_w/s1600/IMG_9147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUqIIQ8xvX1KSeMxc8v910iuE_GNf9Br2fdVEEJAxqVlXj58Nm1enUAjxYPijhNLmzT7Yp1fRADaTdnZ-j9fIb6S3_wsZu1GqPWi_1dkwEunw9MClks_cJd7-CPu6LBkNUygxKNbAp_w/s320/IMG_9147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Check the view.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLtPvLAYQpNGLndOfO6rFfUPSxNHwEf_vc2RxF6uL-i7bLeHiBcG9WtJBStsg-xPZ_i5rhhzk_z9GrN77Vzgkr8D5x-TUYIJmxJ228aR1BTlLc0dFkr0Sl-s3EMYaoZnMRFzDzWG2SJk/s1600/IMG_9169_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLtPvLAYQpNGLndOfO6rFfUPSxNHwEf_vc2RxF6uL-i7bLeHiBcG9WtJBStsg-xPZ_i5rhhzk_z9GrN77Vzgkr8D5x-TUYIJmxJ228aR1BTlLc0dFkr0Sl-s3EMYaoZnMRFzDzWG2SJk/s320/IMG_9169_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The band, The Mast, straight from Brooklyn. </div>
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They played a set while cocktails were enjoyed on the loading dock.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9RsA0ayQWSZFpHTwnkr8HrcfCuBF8Ao9nf6bScmoDAIdPtzFjK_4-jirx8UQWrqqZx7AHHS2od6UhbxzWMQDsZCbGGhL3ASamD67R21R0W8TeAuCmv4yFPNn10tbRKtWpOo7ZbtfCpM/s1600/IMG_9152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9RsA0ayQWSZFpHTwnkr8HrcfCuBF8Ao9nf6bScmoDAIdPtzFjK_4-jirx8UQWrqqZx7AHHS2od6UhbxzWMQDsZCbGGhL3ASamD67R21R0W8TeAuCmv4yFPNn10tbRKtWpOo7ZbtfCpM/s320/IMG_9152.jpg" width="240" /></a> <br />
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And of course, </div>
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there was the food.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHfW51jSXMYKnJcTrU-EuVnIiR63C3CmPYVEaBYLqnrr5shKmc1xaJQQnDkA6DhNBqarh04BF7JLQui2MJ6BTSqrK86MTbv0IJhSunH_oxpvwOP1maTO0UtHVKHgRCFbKY6XFOl8HB6I/s1600/IMG_9263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHfW51jSXMYKnJcTrU-EuVnIiR63C3CmPYVEaBYLqnrr5shKmc1xaJQQnDkA6DhNBqarh04BF7JLQui2MJ6BTSqrK86MTbv0IJhSunH_oxpvwOP1maTO0UtHVKHgRCFbKY6XFOl8HB6I/s320/IMG_9263.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is my favorite picture of the evening.<br />
I love it because it captures the culinary spirit of the evening. <br />
It is a picture of the dessert course, and the chefs as they put their finishing touches<br />
on these gorgeous plates. Take a slightly closer look.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiCT5eb8SOjb1g9h5G-369SwDSp0DXHQBmqGron1MANjxHa20JXNXtn2xBjvu_t1oKepSbfmfvANT4qXxoZcmxUKuN7p6vMagGbww5Hvu_245PU9SlLbvFsomqtdlmwoWpVs9B2jg4Co/s1600/IMG_9265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiCT5eb8SOjb1g9h5G-369SwDSp0DXHQBmqGron1MANjxHa20JXNXtn2xBjvu_t1oKepSbfmfvANT4qXxoZcmxUKuN7p6vMagGbww5Hvu_245PU9SlLbvFsomqtdlmwoWpVs9B2jg4Co/s320/IMG_9265.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Legend Series Two dinner was a four course meal, each chef prepared an hors d'oeuvre, a single course and a dessert...which you see pictured here. While each course was created by an individual culinary artist, it was executed by the collective of chefs and sous present.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPuQoxAcIr1A4s43_r73UMfObBTzZrY06YcTViQHciOPQ01rX5s9ppNBFeQGvwDPzpvui-YlaFOOzGCSExS9ssrBLwk_nOHrCcUTSRLOS2DKFkwFpyfQ0wcU9htFrYYKbVaSuJr_swes/s1600/IMG_9192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPuQoxAcIr1A4s43_r73UMfObBTzZrY06YcTViQHciOPQ01rX5s9ppNBFeQGvwDPzpvui-YlaFOOzGCSExS9ssrBLwk_nOHrCcUTSRLOS2DKFkwFpyfQ0wcU9htFrYYKbVaSuJr_swes/s320/IMG_9192.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Pictured here from right to left: </div>
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Chef Tom Gray, <a href="http://bistrox.com/" target="_blank">Bistro Aix</a></div>
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Chef Scott Schwartz, <a href="http://www.29southrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">29 South</a></div>
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Chef Sam Effron, <a href="http://www.tavernasanmarco.com/home.html" target="_blank">Taverna</a></div>
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They work fresh mozzarella.</div>
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This is Guy Ferri of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/blacksheeprg" target="_blank">Black Sheep Restaurant </a></div>
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and sous from Bistro Aix and Black Sheep.</div>
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They are putting the finishing touches on the second course.<br />
It was amazing to watch these professionals.<br />
The synchronicity was extraordinary, as if they worked together every night of the week.</div>
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The food was beautiful.<br />
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4th Course. Chef Scott Schwartz<br />
<i>Sausage-stuffed quail with soft polenta, chestnuts, natural jus</i><br />
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The drink was plentiful, thanks to<br />
<a href="http://www.palmbay.com/" target="_blank">Palm Bay Imports.</a><br />
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Prosecco, Barolo, Amarone, Grappa...you sense a theme?<br />
Extraordinary Italian varietals each paired with an exquisite dish.<br />
It all came together in a fabulous evening thanks to this lady here:<br />
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Mrs. Cari Sanchez-Potter<br />
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I am sure she is plotting the next underground dinner...<br />
Curious? Go <a href="http://thelegendseriesjax.com/" target="_blank">here.</a><br />
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Shhh. Keep it on the DL.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Hello folks. It has been a while. The past few months have been maddeningly busy, but that is no excuse. There is so much to share, I don't even know where to begin. In the spirit of existentialism, I suppose I will begin with the present. The picture above is a shot of my bedside table on Wednesday. Tomato soup and grilled cheese are a combo to two choice comfort foods, that I yearn for when I feel vulnerable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After having skin cancer surgery, which left my face looking like a zombie chomped my sweet little button nose...lets just say I felt a bit wounded. Yup. The big C. I was told three weeks ago that I have two sites of skin cancer on my face. The first a squamous cell carcinoma on my nose, and the second a basal cell carcinoma on my upper cheek. This Wednesday, I had the former cut off through Mohs surgery. The process is simple. They cut your skin one layer at a time, freeze each layer, make a microscope slide, and look at it for cancer cells. If there is more they cut out another layer, until they get a slide that reads no cancer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A girlfriend recommended that I listen to a book on tape during the procedure. There is a lot of waiting time in between cuts, and this idea seemed like the most brilliant distraction. When I listen to music, my mind tends to wander off. I didn't want my mind wandering down any dark fearful tunnels. I wanted it safely enveloped in an engaging work of fiction, and as a high school English teacher I felt a certain obligation to read <i>The Hunger Games</i>...but just haven't wanted to dedicate the time. So I took this opportunity, and popped on my head phones as they began to carve and snip away at my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The cancer was deep. So deep that they could not sew my nose up with out leaving me disfigured. So they sent me home with a dime size hole in my face to tend to until my skin graft next Friday. They want the wound to "granulate in" so the skin graft will be level with my skin. I prefer the word "granulate" in the context of sugar, and this new definition left me feeling queasy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> I love gory horror flicks, but when a nurse tells you, "I want you to look at your face here so you don't have to worry. This <i>is</i> what it is supposed to look like..." brace yourself. I glanced in the mirror, and then in total shock turned away in disgust. I took one more peek then demanded they take the mirror away. At the end of my nose was a hole the size of a dime. Like someone took an over-sized hole punch to my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"You let people go home with gaping holes in their bodies?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"All the time." Yikes. I told Chef, as we got into the car to go home, that I could not bear to look at my mangled face. He was going to have to change the bandages on my zombie nose. He tried to make me feel better by talking about all the fabulous hats I am now going to start collecting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This brush with mortality has made me realize something. I am getting old. There is no more pussy footing around my health now that I am in my 30's. This was my first major health crisis as an adult, and I gotta do something to keep this from snowballing into a mid-life avalanche. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yoga? </span></span></div>
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It was the Sprout's birthday on St. Patty's day, and we threw her a picnic party at a playground near the Ortega River. I had day dreams of setting up the food, spreading out blankets and lounging for hours by the river, watching the sunset and our little ones frolic about. That Saturday, as I gently placed the 36th cupcake at the top of the stand on the food table, thunder pounded in applause from violet clouds. We moved the entire picnic under a tiny pavilion, ate quickly and let the kids play a bit in the slight drizzle, before loading up and moving out.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">It was no picnic. I got to thinking about picnics, and with Spring here it seemed like a good topic to explore. Surprisingly, what I found was disturbing.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">What is the etymology of the word picnic? I went online to look it up and the first entry was something on <a href="http://snopes.com/">www.Snopes.com</a>. Weird right? <i>Picnic</i> on Snopes? I read the entry...which disproved a rumor that the word "picnic" originated as word describing an outdoor meal attended by white folks, where a black man was chosen at random and hung for the gathering's entertainment. You can read more about it<a href="http://www.snopes.com/language/offense/picnic.asp" target="_blank"> here</a>. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Who started this urban legend, transforming the lovely word picnic into something brutal and violent? The fact that this false definition for the word "picnic" even exists in our language says a lot. So does the story of the murder of <a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/prosecute-the-killer-of-our-son-17-year-old-trayvon-martin" target="_blank">Trayvon Martin</a> in Sanford, FL. What does it say about American society where an adult can shoot an unarmed teenage boy, on his way to a store to buy some candy, without any arrest or investigation? Really think it about it, because as his story goes global the rest of the world will be casting its judgement. This is our society, our laws, our people, our culture. We have to own this reality, before we can change it.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">As for the word picnic...it actually comes from the French word, <i>piquenique</i>, which seems to have originated in the 17th century to describe a potluck style feast. This little truth put my mind at ease, because if there had been a more sinister meaning it would have ruined picnics for me forever. Picnics are a thing of unity and diversity where people come together and share food in plein air. Last Saturday, Chef and I are attended a guerrilla picnic, or pop-up picnic, as a fundraiser for a community garden in our neighborhood, Riverside. It was a picnic like none we have ever attended, and I will be sure to share with you the details.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">It is picnic season...sit, eat, drink, and linger over some meaningful conversation in the sunshine. </span><span style="color: #274e13;">Enjoy the Spring bloom before the summer blaze sets in. </span>Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-38874647936772650762012-03-09T14:02:00.001-05:002012-04-03T21:46:32.182-04:00A Day of Infamy<script type="text/javascript">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4zf1eUQyhSAHGa-aPoQXxxBks8LSbW_RtMnPtszVASGH_5ypHz19L69lTp46PHrd4KD-L0elCDA8zrTeYFwVUjpJKk46WOy-Hph9GT_O53aX1gFOdNHFcIL0X99hLoDv0lie5sbjDko/s1600/IMG_6722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4zf1eUQyhSAHGa-aPoQXxxBks8LSbW_RtMnPtszVASGH_5ypHz19L69lTp46PHrd4KD-L0elCDA8zrTeYFwVUjpJKk46WOy-Hph9GT_O53aX1gFOdNHFcIL0X99hLoDv0lie5sbjDko/s320/IMG_6722.JPG" width="319" /></a></div>3/6/12 - I am not sure how the planets were aligned this Tuesday, but here in Jacksonville, Florida it is was a day of infamy on many levels.<br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Let's begin with the micro: The Sprout kept me up most of the night, so I began the day in a state of confused exhaustion. In this compromised mental capacity I made the mistake of trying to scramble some eggs for my children to eat for breakfast. It was 7:00 am. I gently placed three eggs on the counter and turned to the garbage can to crack the first against the kitchen counter. I knocked it out of my hand onto the kitchen floor. In my haste to clean it up, I bumped our butcher block which caused one of the other eggs to fall to the floor with a splat. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I cussed. Pulled myself together and cracked the other one into the bowl, and threw away it's shell. The remaining egg, I cracked into the garbage can and tossed its shells into the yolk bowl. If I was a cartoon a geyser of steam would have blown through my ears. Then Chef walks in. I tell him to go get the kids' shoes out of my car. He returns with the shoes and says "Your car was broken into last night...they took the GPS."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The thief stole the GPS, the I-touch, and a book with a decade of CDs in it. I had an 8 am appointment, and it was 7:40. I quickly printed directions off the internet to the Duval County School System building. I gathered myself and set forth in my violated vehicle. Half-way there I realized that the last 3 direction bullets were missing from the list. I turned to my "smart phone" which told me to get on another highway...an entirely different route. I made it, barely.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">But this is terribly minor considering what else happened that day. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The macro day of infamy: Around happy hour, I was on a neighborhood playground chatting it up with a fellow madre when she said, "Can you believe that shooting today at Episcopal?" Episcopal High School is one of the best private high schools in Jacksonville. It is where two of my four paternal cousins went to secondary school. Many friends locally attended there as well. Dale Regan, the high school's headmistress, a beloved educator of 30 years, was murdered by a 28 year old Spanish teacher whose employment had been terminated. At around 1:30, he walked onto campus with a guitar case containing an assault rifle and 100 rounds of ammunition. He found her in her office and shot her ten times, then committed suicide. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The following evening, I was standing in a buffet line at a function at our synagogue. I overheard a young teenager tell his father "I heard the shot." I watched the father try to navigate the delicate conversation in such a public place, and I thought to myself as I scooped pasta onto my plate,<br />
"Please don't ever let my child speak those words to me."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">How does a school recover after a tragedy like this? How do parents assure their kids this could never happen again, now that it has happened once? What is to stop it from happening again? </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">How many innocent people have to die before we accept that there are far too many mentally ill people that own guns in this country? </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I mean really. Is there a number that will be the breaking point? </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Chef is a licensed gun owner, but if someone where to come to our babies' school and commit murder, or mass murder there is not a damn thing he would be able to do to protect our children. He would be at work, his guns stowed under lock and key at home.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Do guns make us safer? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Not so sure.</span><br />
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</script>Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-42432442209504934892012-02-05T22:31:00.002-05:002012-02-06T15:59:40.125-05:00Legends of the Food<div style="color: #274e13;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxsx7EvEi564BloLW_JEz0U1zuD4IDTpUH3FVywLQlFLyk-pGW-kEg5cVVGKygddpbnppqnIYctgquz6TkN5Hm8ui02SdDiPsq6qEgIuJhuCvX3L3RjSrXEhtcrFi-kkSuywVN6YKoZ0/s1600/IMG_8777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxsx7EvEi564BloLW_JEz0U1zuD4IDTpUH3FVywLQlFLyk-pGW-kEg5cVVGKygddpbnppqnIYctgquz6TkN5Hm8ui02SdDiPsq6qEgIuJhuCvX3L3RjSrXEhtcrFi-kkSuywVN6YKoZ0/s320/IMG_8777.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br />
Two weeks ago I attended a clandestine meal...guerrilla dining at its finest. Supper clubs, closed door restaurants...if you are not familiar with this culinary movement let me enlighten you.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This was the situation for attendees: The guests receive an invitation to a dinner. There is a day and time, but no location listed. The cuisine is unknown. The day of the event guests receive a note with the location. They arrive and the meal begins. An underground feast.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhmJx-N8Ua1LnPcl7AR7UxXJz3pnSdH-FZiUVqVqnchCI7-qIaEUhQu8cwFZSiPaX4zV3q5h1W7eozuS6BmURnhPc22f1qRGDUlPRYYlC6qUypbh9Yec9vrAMWpJkeZMMYkXli0c8rvQ/s1600/IMG_8774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhmJx-N8Ua1LnPcl7AR7UxXJz3pnSdH-FZiUVqVqnchCI7-qIaEUhQu8cwFZSiPaX4zV3q5h1W7eozuS6BmURnhPc22f1qRGDUlPRYYlC6qUypbh9Yec9vrAMWpJkeZMMYkXli0c8rvQ/s320/IMG_8774.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />
Fifty or so people, mostly strangers, all seated at one long table nestled between giant steel vats draped in twinkle lights set in a brewery near the train tracks. Twice during the meal I watched a train roar by over the shoulder of the person sitting across me. The effect was marvelous. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
Underground culinary movements are springing up all over the world in infinite variations. Its philosophical roots reminiscent of the <a href="http://www.politicsofwellbeing.com/2011/11/real-brains-behind-occupy.html">French Situationist Movement</a>...a social movement of Europe during the 60's that revolved around creating spontaneous situations within the context of everyday life. Every moment is infinitely different from the next, no matter how mundane. To keep reality fresh, spontaneity reminds us that existence is exceptional.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJe2am9oj2Y-9ar6gQignXQuf6IgQ-p4lOtgyJvok0PKIZyWlzlX58Ysc8-4ZsUWDT2vLE8LIHrUigDiuY7WxzdMNcQbNfBup3M45n_81GYLsus7ZVxQDDkagMdIYhLBqEljQU1buli-w/s1600/IMG_8820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJe2am9oj2Y-9ar6gQignXQuf6IgQ-p4lOtgyJvok0PKIZyWlzlX58Ysc8-4ZsUWDT2vLE8LIHrUigDiuY7WxzdMNcQbNfBup3M45n_81GYLsus7ZVxQDDkagMdIYhLBqEljQU1buli-w/s320/IMG_8820.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="color: #274e13;">This subversive spread did just that. I present the menu:</div><div style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>1. </i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Roasted marrow bone, Braised oxtail marmalade, brioche toasts</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>wine: 2001 Campo Viejo Grand Reserva / beer: The Factor Scotch Ale</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>music: Mussorgsky Bydlo (The Ox) from Pictures at an Exhibition</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>2.</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Strauss lamb sweetbreads, Romesco, Tuscan Kale</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> wine: 2007 Bodegas Sierra Cantabria Reserva "Unica" Rioja / beer:Triad Belgian Tripel</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>music: Hugh Maskela, Grazing in the Grass</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>3.</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Roasted saddle of rabbit stuffed with rabbit confit and prunes, Sformato, natural jus.</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>wine: 2000 Lopez de Heredia Vina Tondonia Gran Reserva Rosado</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>music: O'Conner, The Road to Appalachia</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>4. </i></span> </div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Veal braised in Intuition Ale Works Quiet Storm Belgian Quad,</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Potato puree, Piquillo pepper, Marcona Almonds</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>wine: 2005 Bodegas Dinastia Vivanco Reserva / beer: Quiet Storm Belgian Quad</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>music: The Pixies, Where is My Mind?</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>5.</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"Soup & Sandwich" a la Indochine. Pho, Banh mi, Assorted preparations of wild boar</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>wine: 2005 Maetierra Dominum Quatro Pagos "QP" / beer: Dubbel Helix Belgian Dubbel</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>music: Theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Cheese Course...Cabrales, Aged Gouda, Epoisses, Manchego, Brillat Savarin</i></span><br />
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<div style="color: #274e13; text-align: left;">That is right people. Exquisite Spanish wine and craft beer paired with food from this region's top chefs and a specific musical composition individual to each course that was performed the brilliant violinist <a href="http://www.jaxsymphony.org/musician/Philip-Pan.html" target="_blank">Philip Pan</a>, Concertmaster of the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra. </div><div style="color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13; text-align: left;"> No small potatoes here. No small potatoes.</div></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y8Jo-sZwozwjUE-bPQjleouXB2NYUb8to93k4FcqVY24hZzaedoaGHEBNG4UpRuKzwR_Zysn9yjnKLRqtPD003wS_GUeB-vVsluQ6JDf4uzOI8JT2tJJ8AN6DW33wm3wPL8jt2VX7HE/s1600/IMG_8791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y8Jo-sZwozwjUE-bPQjleouXB2NYUb8to93k4FcqVY24hZzaedoaGHEBNG4UpRuKzwR_Zysn9yjnKLRqtPD003wS_GUeB-vVsluQ6JDf4uzOI8JT2tJJ8AN6DW33wm3wPL8jt2VX7HE/s320/IMG_8791.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
Yes, I said Spanish wine and craft beer in glorious harmony. Look at them...<a href="http://us.riojawine.com/en/" target="_blank">Vibrant Rioja</a> and <a href="http://www.intuitionaleworks.com/" target="_blank">Intuition Ale.</a> Such an unlikely pair, but totally perfect together.</div><br />
<div style="color: #274e13;">We all eat. We all dine out, sometimes even on a whim. There is nothing unexpected about that, nothing original. It is what people do. To eat is a common goal of all humans, to eat is to live. But when people get together in an effort to truly transform one of life's most simple acts and share that transformation with others for one brief moment...it is not just an exceptional experience, but a communal gift. Spontaneous art. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Jacksonville, bless her heart, may be The River City, but in many ways she is a backwaters kind of gal. It is renegade events like this that will mark her as The Bold New City of the South.<span style="color: #274e13;"> Put your feelers out, and maybe you will stumble upon one in your region. Friends, who live in my neck of the woods go<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_201183789"> </a></span><a href="http://thelegendseriesjax.com/" style="color: #351c75;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="color: #351c75;"> </span>for a taste of creative subversion to open the mind and the palette. </span></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"> Wake up that brain and belly.</span></div>Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-67802844817310132692012-01-20T17:01:00.001-05:002012-01-20T17:03:12.460-05:00Waffa and Mike's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zw1GztKmwHZ4l51Twull93QV8ji-fN-ZpumXJSHLoCvTYTuCl1qN9xQHpv3v197o1wHGG6YSuWpU6jRnP3sJMs0hH_cBqAhBMnRJxioKOqB8fOveSa9jwq-t7EgqMIHY3vNVQc6wHjU/s1600/IMG-20120104-00239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zw1GztKmwHZ4l51Twull93QV8ji-fN-ZpumXJSHLoCvTYTuCl1qN9xQHpv3v197o1wHGG6YSuWpU6jRnP3sJMs0hH_cBqAhBMnRJxioKOqB8fOveSa9jwq-t7EgqMIHY3vNVQc6wHjU/s320/IMG-20120104-00239.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The first few weeks of the New Year have been nuts. Nuts as in crazy. Nuts as in hard, crunchy. Nuts as in fruitful. I began grad school, helped install a garden at Lil' Bit's preschool and got the six classes started on spring crops, and of course the hubbub of everyday life. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Speaking of the mundane, moving to a new city one must always search out a trustworthy mechanic. I began my search inquiring from friends, but no recommendation was to be had. My parents happened to be in town and my mom said "Check out the <a href="http://www.cartalk.com/">Car Talk Radio Show website</a>. They have a list."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">So I did and the first name on the list <a href="http://www.cartalk.com/content/auto-diagnostic-repair">A & A Auto Diagnostic Repair</a> on N. Main seemed to have the best reviews so I gave them a call and they told me they could see me in 30 minutes. I set forth to Springfield, an up and coming area of Jacksonville to get an oil change and two light bulbs replaced. Minor issues, make the best starting point to get a feel for a new mechanic.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I found the place, and the owner Mike was warm and friendly. I handed him my keys. He pointed to a glass door and told me that there was a couch in the office where I could wait if I liked. Now I have been to many a mechanic, but this office was special. The couch he spoke of had one beige floral pillow that was propped up cockamamie on the arm, while the other two were firmly in place. The other customer, a man was standing next to the couch texting. I sat down and felt a need to straighten the pillow, but then I took a look around and noticed that the office waiting room was all jacked up with stuff. My mechanic was a hoarder.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
ASorSoSSorSosff
</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">He walked in and told me it would be about 30 minutes, and seeing me on the couch he offered "I own the restaurant next door, you are welcome to wait over there. I will tell them to take care of you." I had almost passed the garage upon arrival because I was so distracted by the sign for the restaurant: Waffa and Mike's painted in yellow letters on the giant red cinder-block walls of the building that housed both businesses. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
ASorSoSSorSosff
</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">I took him up on it and went next door. Waffa and Mike's Cafe is clean with high ceilings and has the warm smell falafel in the fryer. It was ten a.m and I had a lunch date so I went for 3 for $1 baklava and coffee. I sat down in a large booth with a book and began to read. This cafe at the mechanic's was such a wonderful turn of events, and a brilliant concept mind you.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
ASorSoSSorSosff
</script></div><span style="color: #274e13;">The baklava was honey sweet and the coffee strong. A man walked in and ordered a wrap of some sort that smelled incredible. Before I knew it an hour passed by. I thought </span><i style="color: #274e13;">Is there something wrong with my car? Maybe I should go see what is taking so long? </i><span style="color: #274e13;">I went back to the office and the car was ready and when Mike handed me the bill I was thrilled. An oil change for less than $30 with baklava. Yes. </span><br />
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<br />
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</div><div class="" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">This is a beautiful plant.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJk0n5Tp6lY/TwD_jSnxWII/AAAAAAAAAwI/sZteKR5bWWs/s1600/IMG_7748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJk0n5Tp6lY/TwD_jSnxWII/AAAAAAAAAwI/sZteKR5bWWs/s320/IMG_7748.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Even the word legume has a certain elegance to it don't you think? A plant with edible seeds. Each seed harboring its own individual potential to grow into a plant, comfortably nestled in a pod with its kin. That is the thing...peas in a pod, when faced with the future, they are <i>in</i> it together. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">As a species we all have different resolves, but one thing is for certain...like all species on earth when it comes to our survival, our future, whether we like it or not we are <i>in</i> it<i> </i>together.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Happy New Year!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Luck in Life and Love.</span></div><br />
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<div style="color: #274e13;">We moved to this neighborhood six months ago, knowing that it was a great area of Jacksonville...but little did we know that our choice of street address would land us in a Christmas light spectacular! There is always that one street where folks go all out come the holidays, and during the month of December their neighborhood is full of people cruising by in wonder of the twinkling bulbs, and the power bill.</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The opposite side of the street from us happens to be such a dazzling display of electricity...lets just say that this joyful discovery is just one more affirmation that moving off our little island to the big city was a grand idea.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The girls and I go on evening strolls to admire our neighbors' handiwork, and on one such occasion we happened to meet the man with the grid plan. I asked him how it all worked...did he have a generator? He told me in an unexpectedly sheepish manner that he had two computers, one in the garage and one in the closet under the stairs that powered the operation. Angels and candy canes dangling 20 feet up in the air, words projected on the side of the house, giant crosses and evergreens, snow ball fights, sparkling deer, stars, inflatable penguins...this man went all out. In mid-conversation Lil' Bit became suddenly very upset and began to whimper. "Look mommy! Look at Frosty! He is dying!"</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"Maybe he is taking a bow?" Our neighbor interrupted my ridiculous response and expertly explained that Frosty was melting and would soon be back upright. Lil' Bit was greatly relieved as he re-inflated and we continued on our walk. I am not a religious person, but I appreciate the homage to light during this dark time of year. Speaking of...Happy Hanukkah!</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">Hanukkah is a holiday that calls for oil...aka fried food. Chef made jelly donuts the first night of the holiday...the beginning of a barrage of sweets to lighten life during the holidays. This week we received what I call "the holiday diet fucker package." Chef and I always vow to go on a crazy diet between the Thanksgiving feast and the Christmas feast, but inevitably a DF package arrives and ruins our good will. Rum balls, truffles, sugar cookies, peppermint bark...a towering smorgasbord of sinful delights compliments of mom. I know one day I will too send my brood tins full of empty calories, and they will eat them dutifully with great gusto. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AAB5Ndahh7I/TvODUI89DTI/AAAAAAAAAv8/CI8Tu0keXXg/s1600/IMG_5599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AAB5Ndahh7I/TvODUI89DTI/AAAAAAAAAv8/CI8Tu0keXXg/s320/IMG_5599.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The idea that we don't have to indulge over the holidays is poppycock. There is no better way to celebrate the richness of life and the end of a year than with rich delicious food. So my advice to you this last week of December, this first official week of winter is to go for it. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Eat as if you are about to enter hibernation...enjoy all food and libation without guilt or shame. There is no better way to celebrate a year of life well lived. Besides, New Year's is next week...save your resolve of deprivation for next year.</span> <span style="color: #274e13;">Just say screw it and indulge in the now!</span><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This morning on the other side of the world at 7:37 am the last US combat troop crossed over the border to Kuwait ending our nine year war in Iraq...officially. My mind returned to the day we began the Shock and Awe campaign. I was at a friend's warehouse studio listening to the reports coming in on the radio when I went to use the restroom and realized that I had unknowingly been wearing my underwear inside out and backwards all day.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">I remember three years later after I had moved back to Florida and went to a craft store to buy some art supplies. The war was far from my mind until I walked past the aisle that held the Flag boxes on sale. I stood there and my heart sank. It hit me that unlike previous generations of war, my generation, in this age of petty distraction, could go days or weeks without a thought about our soldiers abroad because as civilians we have not been asked to sacrifice anything. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I had the same thoughts every time I saw a soldier in an airport. I wondered if they were coming or going, and if they were on their way home how difficult the adjustment must be for them. I witnessed the small ways they were honored in transit: the rounds of applause at the baggage claim, or on a plane after a pilot had honored them over the intercom, or the smiles and quiet thanks given by individuals to soldiers on terminal trams.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script>I recall the six months I spent worrying about my little brother while he served in Iraq in his position at the DOD. I swore an oath to him and myself that if anything happened to him I would devote the rest of my life making sure that the terrible story of this particular war would be impossible to hide through the retelling of history.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">We spent Thanksgiving this year with my brother in Washington D.C. It was his first time hosting the holiday as a young adult in his new apartment. I was so grateful he was home. We feasted the way only a family with a Chef in its fold can do. During dinner he told us about the USO volunteers that he encountered all over the world and the platters of baked goods and comfort foods of home that they provided to all personnel serving in the wars abroad. My brother twice returned from war without family to greet him, and for the kindness shown to him by these folks I will be eternally grateful.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">A nine year war ended today. The last soldiers are now racing the clock home to be with their loved ones for the holidays. I can't even imagine the relief and strangeness of the new life the Iraqi people are faced with now they are no longer occupied.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Anytime a war ends is a time for joy. This upcoming few weeks there will be many toasts to be made. This holiday season the word "peace" is more than some sentiment followed by the word "joy" on a card. Peace is the epic struggle for our slowly evolving species. During the holidays as we light our candles lets do so in dedication of peace and hope for the end of the war in Afghanistan. The cost of war is too much for <i>any</i> people to bear.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Lets give thanks to all the people across the world who bring peace in ways both big and small, and reflect on the meaningful ways that we can follow in their footsteps.</span><br />
<br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">You know you live with a chef when it comes time to clean out the garage freezer and this is the list of stuff you are going to keep:</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">pork fat</div><div style="color: #274e13;">salmon</div><div style="color: #274e13;">rabbit legs & quarters</div><div style="color: #274e13;">pork belly</div><div style="color: #274e13;">oysters</div><div style="color: #274e13;">24 quails </div><div style="color: #274e13;">steam buns </div><div style="color: #274e13;">cranberries</div><div style="color: #274e13;">whole rabbit</div><div style="color: #274e13;">whole duck</div><div style="color: #274e13;">fruit purees</div><div style="color: #274e13;">boneless short rib</div><div style="color: #274e13;">pork scraps/neck</div><div style="color: #274e13;">corn tortillas</div><div style="color: #274e13;">japanese noodle with Uzu sauce?</div><div style="color: #274e13;">gyro meat</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I am not even going to get into what we threw out. Lets just say that according to Chef, there is <i>plenty</i> of room now. The idea to catalog the freezer came about in a discussion about what to cook while entertaining over the holidays. I think our stash has the makes for some serious wining and dining. Flock of quail anyone? </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Feasting as a means to celebrate is a tradition that binds humankind. It is as relevant now as it was in ancient times...perhaps even more so today given that so many of our personal interactions happen in cyberspace. From the preparation of the food, to breaking bread...every aspect of a feast feeds authentic relationships. I dare say we could all use a little time devoted to authenticity this holiday season. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">For real.</div>Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405170454787236833.post-77660131590082422632011-12-02T13:54:00.004-05:002011-12-08T22:04:47.056-05:00Ohhh Honey!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vtYcVT4z2fxoecnp012jWQS5-dKEH7yCBWpcPc3Vo-zmWd8x3_o6fLPJ_IaVU7EsLJ6JX9m3QIJm-Z0fxSd__lBNPSFptaRHGFHRYyQAfiLn0ft1bY-6ibV-wv2CVbSb6XGB6mLitXg/s1600/IMG_8574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vtYcVT4z2fxoecnp012jWQS5-dKEH7yCBWpcPc3Vo-zmWd8x3_o6fLPJ_IaVU7EsLJ6JX9m3QIJm-Z0fxSd__lBNPSFptaRHGFHRYyQAfiLn0ft1bY-6ibV-wv2CVbSb6XGB6mLitXg/s320/IMG_8574.jpg" width="172" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This time of year I like to drink. Well, truth be told I like to drink most times of year. It is genetic. But during winter I like to drink things that warm. I am not a Scotch person. My parents, they are Scotch people. As a child, I used to hound them for a sip of whatever adult beverage they had in hand. They would cave knowing that the burning taste of Johnny Walker would make me gag. It did. To this day that first sip of Scotch always triggers churning chills down my spine. I can drink it if duty calls in certain social situations, but it is not preferred. I am an American girl when it comes to whiskey. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Bourbon whiskey is made from corn and is unique to the American South, distilled mainly in Kentucky but also Tennessee. Ironically enough the invention of bourbon is attributed to a Baptist minister named Rev. Elijah Craig. The term "bourbon" comes from the county in Kentucky where the distillation process of American whiskey was created. American whiskey producers are mandated by trade agreements to label their booze bourbon, but Tennessee whiskey producers refuse to label their bottles as such. Instead they use "sour mash whiskey" to disassociate themselves from their brothers in Kentucky, in true bootlegger moonshine feud style.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This week Chef and I were introduced to Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey. It was given to him as a gift to nurse an upper respiratory infection. Like a true southern bell she is warm, inviting, a real sweetie but if you take advantage of her good graces she will bite you in the ass. She made her debut to society this summer and has had five star reviews from anyone who has taken her for a ride. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Let me tell you something...this is one of the most sippable liquors Chef and I have ever tasted. I am not kidding. This beverage will now be a staple booze in our home. There is nothing syrupy about this drink, just whiskey warmed with honey. It is extraordinary.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Do yourself and everyone around you a favor and go buy a bottle. Maybe two. One for you and one as a gift to someone who needs a drink more than most. This year, this climate, this world we live in now demands too much from us, and there is nothing like a little southern comfort to provide relief from the cold. A little liquid courage to face the all consuming holiday season. I am telling you if cheer had a flavor, it would be Tennessee Honey.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Cheers to one of America's finest exports, and congrats to Mr. Daniels for landing himself such an incredible lady! </div><script type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This week I began my new part-time career as a substitute teacher. I say career because being a teacher, even part time, is more than a job. Way more than a job. You are responsible for educating and caring for a room full of children that are complete strangers to you, and you to them.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">On Monday, I taught "Reading", a class to help 6th graders who struggled with the reading on the FCAT to 3 classes totalling 64 six graders. I never had to take the FCAT so I had no idea what to expect as far as curriculum I received the assignment the night before so I didn't have much time to reflect on the students either, except for the obvious preteen angst I would be up against combine with the substitute teacher get out of jail free card they would be waving in my face. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">School started at 8:45 and ended at 4 pm. My first class came to me before lunch, as in 4 minutes before the lunch bell. I had to march them to the cafeteria. They lined up and we set forth down the hall, when suddenly one of the boys sprinted back to the room. I raced after him while the class continued on without me. He left his brownie in his backpack. My heart was racing. The kids were not supposed to be alone in the halls. Hurry up kid. I kept saying in my brain. Finally he gave up searching his backpack. We caught up with the class and marched to lunch. It was a rough start.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">After lunch, they came in like a tornado and raged for the entire 1 1/2 hour time block. Stuff flying all over the room, note the chinese star above. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"> I was mocked. Openly defied constantly. Completely disrespected. Lied to.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"What is that? Food?" </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"We are allowed to eat in here."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;">"Well, last class I busted someone for eating. He was keeping it on the down low, which if he was allowed to eat he would have done it openly. Put it away."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"No."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"Put it away, or I throw it away."</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">"Fine. Ugh. Someone said you were nice?"</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> I stood my ground. I was firm. I yelled. I even sent someone to the office. But it was insane. Such a rush. What went down in that class room left me in shock. I was giddy after class, like I had just been skydiving or something. God help us if this is the state of the next generation coming down the American public education pipeline. They are buck wild.</div><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Weekends are good for love songs. Actually, any day is good for love songs...except for maybe Monday. This is a blog about the infinite happening of food in life, and a few weeks ago a song about butter rocked my world. <a href="http://www.balthropalabama.com/">Balthrop, Alabama</a>, a ten piece+ band, including a visual artist illustrating each song live, refers to themselves as a small township. A brilliant witty auditory landscape if you ask me. My friend Jimmy Saal, producer of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AtypicalArts">Atypical Arts Presents</a> brought Balthrop, Alabama from Brooklyn to Jacksonville. Big thanks to him. There is no better gift than being introduced to wonderful new music.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">This particular night was special because it was Chef and I's first date night in the big city by bicycle. We rolled down to grab some mediocre sushi, and then cruised to <a href="http://www.5pointstheatre.com/">Five Points Theater </a>to celebrate its final show before renovation. The opening act was this gorgeous sassy sweet soulful southern lady named <a href="http://www.valeriejune.com/">Valerie June.</a> Chef and I both developed a crush mid set. Then came Balthrop, Alabama. In the middle of the show someone appeared with a piece of cardboard ripped from a box that had the words "The Butter Song" scrawled across it in blue marker. The phrase alone brought joy to my heart, and as members of the audience began to chant the phrase...well this is what happened next.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The lyrics speak for themselves...but you have to listen to the music <a href="http://store.balthropalabama.com/track/the-butter-song">here </a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b>The Butter Song</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I was always trying to find the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you were always trying to find the butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you and me we should be together</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">And then you could find the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and I could find the butter </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">you could be my pretty wife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and I could be your lover</div><div style="color: #274e13;">try to be a little more PC</div><div style="color: #274e13;">don't mean to be gettin' so greasy</div><div style="color: #274e13;">but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I was always trying to find the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you were always trying to find the butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you and me we should be together</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and then you could find the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and I could find the butter </div><div style="color: #274e13;">I could your pretty wife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and you could be my lover</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><div style="color: #274e13;">try to be a little more PC</div><div style="color: #274e13;">don't mean to be gettin' so greasy</div><div style="color: #274e13;">but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div></div><div style="color: #274e13;">and the butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">ran away </div><div style="color: #274e13;">and they lived happily ever after</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and so should we</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">I was always trying to find the butter knife </div><div style="color: #274e13;">you were always trying to find the butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you and me we should be together</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and then you could find the butter knife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and I could find the butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;">you could be my pretty wife</div><div style="color: #274e13;">and I could be your lover</div><div style="color: #274e13;">try to be a little more PC</div><div style="color: #274e13;">don't mean to be gettin' so greasy</div><div style="color: #274e13;">but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">That last line cracks me up. No pun intended.</span><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;">My daughters received these in their trick or treat bags. They were individually wrapped and labeled "Creepy Meals" with no nutritional information. The man who handed them out was in is sixties, red complexion, white hair, yellow grinning teeth. Grandfatherly in a truck driver sort of way. He seemed really proud as he dropped them into their baskets, and we thanked him and wished him a happy holiday. And I made a mental note that as soon as we got home I would remove them and throw them away. Take a closer look. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyS8-iXzUYy39jRXU6XnApGQpGfL0UgkFJC1M1F5cEUCgGcaydM7mMJL8csUNtU0jQkmkfFSviJ1jgs3LJOYLlKF7vnFzyMh2Rd3LYDpsafi3FVQPrWtPaKIxuWSJnZO72QS6lm_lCbE/s1600/STA_8320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyS8-iXzUYy39jRXU6XnApGQpGfL0UgkFJC1M1F5cEUCgGcaydM7mMJL8csUNtU0jQkmkfFSviJ1jgs3LJOYLlKF7vnFzyMh2Rd3LYDpsafi3FVQPrWtPaKIxuWSJnZO72QS6lm_lCbE/s320/STA_8320.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">Miniature gummy fast food, combined with human body parts. Of all the candy, of all the glorious candy in the world...why this? I just had to share these little culinary curiosities.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Completely unrelated, I have started writing a novel two days ago. You know, because I have nothing else to do. It is <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">National Novel Writing Month</a> and I decided to go for it. 55,000 words in 30 days. Hundreds of thousands of writers all over the world are pecking away like kamikaze typists. In two short days I have squeezed out 20 pages during nap time, after bedtime, and even at the gym. Don't ask me how. I have wanted to write a novel since I was eleven years old, and now with two kids, in school, with a part time job I have finally decided to make the time to do it...or find the time in the little cracks of daily life.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;"> I am a woman on a mission, so forgive me if my posts in the next three weeks are short. Wish me luck. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div style="color: #274e13;">I say it every year. <a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2010/10/trick-or-treat.html">I love Halloween</a>. What is not to love. Candy corn alone is reason enough. I waited until yesterday to buy my annual bag and now there is no turning back. What is candy corn? It is exactly what you might suspect...sugar, corn syrup, water, fondant, marshmallow, and yes...wax. I think the wax is what I love the most about it. The pliable texture it brings to this little iconic candy that is over a century old. Supposedly 9000 tons of it is sold in America each year, enough to circumnavigate the globe over 4 times if laid yellow head to white toe. Did you know that the yellow part was the top of a candy corn? Tricky little treat.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCfE9K2pqDiXGo-TAhgekRnrwIdMecPwMnAbPUIM6F0uLxdMDIU5jrjW-yUn1Sb7q5Cl0iL6365ZqabJuZAM_6AQSdLtj_Uyhv3AIwEILwqJgVN4TloQ07pEI55FJXEgS1MVfKlUqNbQ/s1600/IMG_8219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCfE9K2pqDiXGo-TAhgekRnrwIdMecPwMnAbPUIM6F0uLxdMDIU5jrjW-yUn1Sb7q5Cl0iL6365ZqabJuZAM_6AQSdLtj_Uyhv3AIwEILwqJgVN4TloQ07pEI55FJXEgS1MVfKlUqNbQ/s320/IMG_8219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Speaking of corn...we went to the <a href="http://web.me.com/connerbettyjean/Conner_Farms_2010/Home.html">Conner's Farm</a> for their annual corn maze...well actually we just go for the corn pool. You have to swim at your own risk. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUZrnTYkVJWzIhyphenhyphenuO-_64I1kHFVawx9TOG0lmIinFZJ5WbnvQZ1c_jIg1H9ETQKNbtz9cWXVXtqi9ZPaxm1YQ1w-uewslaD7cBMKVTSM1-3ZMGAUO3CcsyzeK1WwWnrU0tgQ-ZHx_mOA/s1600/IMG_8196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUZrnTYkVJWzIhyphenhyphenuO-_64I1kHFVawx9TOG0lmIinFZJ5WbnvQZ1c_jIg1H9ETQKNbtz9cWXVXtqi9ZPaxm1YQ1w-uewslaD7cBMKVTSM1-3ZMGAUO3CcsyzeK1WwWnrU0tgQ-ZHx_mOA/s320/IMG_8196.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">This year I am a little behind the ball. I just bought my pumpkins today, with a plan to carve them tomorrow while Chef is watching his annual college football game...UGA vs. UF. It is an excuse for me to make </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1444288990" style="color: #351c75;">this</a><span style="color: #274e13;"><a href="http://ecoculinaire.blogspot.com/2010/02/game-day.html" style="color: #351c75;"> dip.</a><span style="color: #351c75;"> </span> Or maybe I will be good and make some kale chips...to dip with. Long ago, in Scotland, young folks would be blindfolded and go pick kale from the garden on Halloween. They would lay the uprooted plants by the fire and the read them for signs of what their betrothed might look like. Shriveled and puny, or tall and supple. The more dirt on the root ball would mean the larger the dowry. Then they would be tacked in a row over the front door and each visitor that night would be identified with the mangled plant that resembled them most. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Something about that tradition makes me really happy.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogvHoqFrxZQK5eG5qXERg10l9TuCyz4DQkBvsSdAfbeqWDVfbC40QNy90Hv7EMzoXP_XE7kbt8gOwwHaI2kYuBOBXuSgtEzvCvyAmAlO_Vt282bn4CEQF-Ds21ElTX9_Ke2QZ8_gY2lo/s1600/IMG_8311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogvHoqFrxZQK5eG5qXERg10l9TuCyz4DQkBvsSdAfbeqWDVfbC40QNy90Hv7EMzoXP_XE7kbt8gOwwHaI2kYuBOBXuSgtEzvCvyAmAlO_Vt282bn4CEQF-Ds21ElTX9_Ke2QZ8_gY2lo/s320/IMG_8311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Happy Halloween! Get your trick on!</span><br />
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Sunday afternoon I began our fall garden at home. Florida may be a place where people come to die, but when the rest of the east coast is witnessing the glorious moribundity of fall, here in Florida there is a rebirth after the dog days of summer. French radishes, golden beets, red beets, fennel, broccoli raab, romanesco, butter lettuces, leeks, romaine, kale, Brussels sprouts, cilantro. We started hundreds of seeds, most of which leftover from the restaurant garden, and by Wednesday some had already begun to sprout. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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72 hours. Spindly stalks stretched their way through the darkness lifting their tiny leaves into the warm fall sunshine. It always blows me away when I think of plants moving on their own accord. Their pace is so remarkable, their steady slowness is constant and unwavering. Everyday, all around you, plants are on the move...up, down, reaching, bowing, opening, coiling, closing. All this motion is so slight it is barely registered by the human eye. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsieRhYhuE0FcWbiu3c9raIuW_v5yN5rjgB1bxQJuudeYpc_LoEeiAm5khMrOVb7Y00j0ZZ1NFuxDZGCHxmVdESCeY3oFkEjA_x8-4T62m2snx1-mKIlvgpAvCBb_ooV1ZN0W_JbWeUpU/s1600/IMG_8194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsieRhYhuE0FcWbiu3c9raIuW_v5yN5rjgB1bxQJuudeYpc_LoEeiAm5khMrOVb7Y00j0ZZ1NFuxDZGCHxmVdESCeY3oFkEjA_x8-4T62m2snx1-mKIlvgpAvCBb_ooV1ZN0W_JbWeUpU/s320/IMG_8194.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">We are a lot like plants. We all have dormant seeds with huge potential sleeping inside. Sometimes a catastrophe triggers our inner seed to sprout, and sometimes the awakening is due to nurturing intent. But I dare say that for many of us our seed just remains asleep, and we dream of it on occasion. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">Lately though, it seems like all over the world seeds are starting to sprout. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/01/30/egypt-revolution-2011_n_816026.html">Egypt</a>, <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/let-libya-take-charge-of-its-revolution/2011/08/23/gIQAmuEuZJ_story.html">Libya</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunisian_revolution">Tunisia,</a> <a href="http://wearethe99percent.tumblr.com/">USA</a>, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-15358921">Chile</a>, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/oct/19/occupy-london-movement-who-are-protesters">Britain</a>,<a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/10/19/us-greece-idUSTRE79H1FI20111019"> Greece</a>, the list goes on and on covering every continent. People in their own ways are unfolding their hearts and minds to a brighter future. The ways people bring their seedlings into the light are infinite...like the complexity of humanity...but one thing is certain - no matter what your potential is, in order for it to be met you have to dig in to dig out.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JH3gt_tODfJ5RQtxrMX886d6aQRWMt-2a8QYWaiVZbzQuk28jEq3FaP5zWApzQe7tpwT-evh5eF-eI6lVYIK8ULbirKAzYa1Nv3bdyZfk_UEDoInFRpbzX6ClmHiH9YIeK3q0K1NMRw/s1600/IMG_8164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JH3gt_tODfJ5RQtxrMX886d6aQRWMt-2a8QYWaiVZbzQuk28jEq3FaP5zWApzQe7tpwT-evh5eF-eI6lVYIK8ULbirKAzYa1Nv3bdyZfk_UEDoInFRpbzX6ClmHiH9YIeK3q0K1NMRw/s320/IMG_8164.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;">Besides, it is always fun to get your hands a little dirty. </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">In searching for my video clip for last week's post I came across this image. In the first days of Occupy Wall Street as the activists marched down Wall Street power lunchers at the Cipriani Club 55 enjoyed the spectacle from the club's balcony, champagne and cocktails in hand. This video has understandably bothered many people because it seems to define the attitude of Wall Street. <i>We are untouchable from our perch, and we know it. Cheers.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">I went online to read more about the <a href="http://www.cipriani.com/locations/new-york/clubs/club-55.php">Cipriani Club 55,</a> and I found this description on their website:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><i>The Club will provide you everything essential to live the good life. The on-site Cipriani Clubb 55 is the natural extension of your professional and social life; an outstanding restaurant, a proper bar, a stylish and complete library, a traditional barber shop, a discreet business lounge, a full-service spa, a billiard room, a state-of-the-art screening room and Cipriani boutique. The 24 hour concierge service, carried out by the best professionals in New York, will make the world become small and easy. We like the pursuit of happiness for all our customers.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">I love this. Particularly the last two sentences. The world for the top 1% is delectably <i>small and easy.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">Last Saturday, my daughters and I went to Occupy Jacksonville. It was their first experience as activists and it was open and welcoming. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgcjN6rI8fH946hvHNL1z5qeT_Vewwzu-7Y3AdrpehuI0Q4T5jHRK3QmfbUHvdhGo_V5BICCyot12byBrfw3rDQfrwZTSmVVXXT6itCMkI9UggxZp2RmUnVp-ZJiOF29cDrMFoV7-ajA/s1600/IMG_8151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgcjN6rI8fH946hvHNL1z5qeT_Vewwzu-7Y3AdrpehuI0Q4T5jHRK3QmfbUHvdhGo_V5BICCyot12byBrfw3rDQfrwZTSmVVXXT6itCMkI9UggxZp2RmUnVp-ZJiOF29cDrMFoV7-ajA/s320/IMG_8151.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">There were hundreds of people there representing a <i>big </i>world that is far from <i>easy.</i> Elderly people, professional people, college kids, families, homeless people, the whole gamut. We came out in the middle of a tropical storm in solidarity with our fellow Americans. The rain held out for us...it was that perfect windy tumultuous weather that adds a spark to the air before a storm. City council member, Don Redman, tried to shut the gathering down, but the police would not engage...probably because of the 48 officers that had been laid off the week before by the City. And besides...we were just private citizens peacefully enjoying a day at a public park.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">Many people have asked me lately why did I go to <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/OccupyJax">Occupy Jacksonville</a>? What is this movement about. And ironically enough I think I found my answer in the luxurious description of Cipriani Club 55 that echos our very <a href="http://www.ushistory.org/declaration/document/">Declaration of Independence.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">The Occupy Wall Street Movement is about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life,_liberty_and_the_pursuit_of_happiness"><i>the pursuit of happiness.</i></a> My two favorite Founding Fathers, Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson declared it an "unalienable right" for all Americans in the <a href="http://www.ushistory.org/declaration/document/">Declaration of Independence</a>. Most of us find ourselves today playing by the rules, doing what our parents did to get ahead and provide us with a better life, a happier life, but our own government no longer protects or even recognizes our unalienable rights. This is because our legal system is held in the iron grip of Corporate America. Since corporations were given<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporate_personhood"> personhood</a> in the 1800's their unalienable rights just seem to grow over the years while ours diminish.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;">But they are not human beings, they are entities created by human beings. Like robots. They do not have one heart, corporations are comprised of millions of hearts. The hearts of those that work to make them successful, and the hearts of those who support them as consumers. The fastest way to the human heart is through the stomach. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #274e13; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Starve the beast. Buy local. Support small business, not Big business. Put what little money you have where your mouth is...because to the Wall Street Club money talks. </span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Oh and share this with folks if you find any truth in it. We all need to keep the dialogue rolling.</span></div><script type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Have you ever been to a protest? Well, if not...you should. It is one of our most important rights in this country, the right to peacefully assemble, and if you have never exercised it take the time to do it at some point in your life. It is a right that creates real change. Change you can see and feel, not just change you can believe in. And, exercising your right to assemble is more empowering than you can imagine...the sense of freedom and community combined is electric.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">In college I went to more protests than I can count. WTO, IMF, FTAA, Iraq War...if I had a ride I was there. The thrill of activism made me feel more alive than anything else. I was tear gassed in Quebec City and made the cover of many national papers in Washington DC. During both circumstances I was not doing anything unruly, just standing there peacefully...<i>okay</i> maybe I did raise my voice a bit, but I was just excited. Peacefully excited.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">As I read about the patriots assembling in NYC, I thought to myself...who is feeding them? At all the protests I have attended there have been makeshift soup kitchens organized by various organizations like Food Not Bombs or food camps set up by the organizers of the action. In my experience there was a lot of vegetarian stews, beans, and rice. Fruit. Bread stuffs. And looking back the food was always served on real plates with real silverware, and a three sink wash basin was there for washing. You can't exactly protest environmental degradation and be using paper plates now can you?</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">After a day of walking miles of city blocks and standing on your feet for 12 hours straight food takes on an entirely new meaning. As Chef says, hunger is the best sauce, and let me tell you vegan stew never tasted so good. But the folks in NYC that are striving to wake up the nation they have a different menu all together. It <i>is</i> NYC, dining destination of the world. According to <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/metropolis/2011/10/03/feeding-the-protest-giant-subs-pizzas-and-too-many-apples/">this article,</a> the charity of supporters has dished out some pretty great grub. Local restaurants have opened their kitchens so activists can cook the food for the hundreds of people gathered, an estimated 200 pizzas a day are delivered to the food camp, giant six foot subs, and even fruit bouquets from Edible Arrangements.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">There is one pizza place in particular, <a href="http://www.liberatospizza.com/">Liberatos Pizza</a>, that has lost count the number of pizzas it takes to Zuccotti Park, and even has a special discount for a pizza fittingly dubbed the "Ocu Pie." People from all over the country and the world have been ordering pizzas from this place to be delivered to <a href="http://occupywallst.org/">Occupy Wall Street</a>.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">We all have different comfort levels when it comes to activism, but I think we call agree that our fellow Americans striving to bring real attention to our plight as the 99% struggling every day in the richest nation in the world just to make ends meet are doing us all a big favor. Huge favor. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><script type="text/javascript">
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">To better understand their message, because lets face it the corporate media is a joke, go <a href="http://wearethe99percent.tumblr.com/">here</a>. Please, check it out because this is as real as apple pie. As real as the on-going revolution in the Arab world. In fact on October 6th Occupy Washington DC begins. And if you go the the <a href="http://wearethe99percent.tumblr.com/">99% tumblr</a>, and it moves you to buy a pizza for your fellow citizens give <a href="http://www.liberatospizza.com/">Liberatos</a> a call at 212.344.3464. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">Take time this week to help feed liberty.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Oh, and share this post wherever you can. Every little bit of solidarity is worth its weight in freedom.</span><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">My three year old celebrated Rosh Hashanah at preschool this week. The Jewish New Year has many traditions that revolve around food...from eating apples and honey to celebrate a sweet new year, to Tashlich where bread is thrown into a body of water to signify the casting off of sins to start the year with a fresh slate. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</script></div><div style="color: #274e13;">This week a piece of paper came home in her backpack. It is a blessing that they worked on as a class, and I would like to share it with you. There is an utterly random food reference that made me laugh. </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><i><b>The Blessing For The World</b></i></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><i>We wish the world would have millions of monkeys and a butterfly named Mango. Also, the world needs lots of present. The world needs kisses and cakes and princesses. We wish for peace, justice, and lots and lots of Mommy love and many beautiful flowers. That's all.</i></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;">The butterfly named Mango. Why Mango? The national fruit of India, Pakistan, and the Philippines. The mango is used in rituals of Ganesha, remover of Obstacles, patron of arts and sciences, and deva of intellect and wisdom. Butterflies in many cultures signify the soul of either living or dead.</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #274e13;">Combine the two: the world needs a soul that removes obstacles by nourishing art, science, intellect, and wisdom. A butterfly named Mango, mascot for world peace.</span>Nanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07748795071816093190noreply@blogger.com0