Sweet Tea and Cicadas

Heaven.

2011-03-24T11:42:00.000-04:00

A friend left my home this morning to continue his drive back to Albany, NY. The expected high in Albany is 40°, and there are rumors of snow. Meanwhile, at my house, it's 76°, and I awoke to one of my favorite warm-weather sounds--a sprinkler. If it weren't for the fact that he is returning to his wife and child, I'd feel infinitely sorry for him. Instead, I'm just grateful for the mild climate here and only a little grumpy that, in March, I already have a farmer's tan.

I have some lovely new pieces for the shop, and if I can tear myself away from the brilliant sunshine and the backyard vegetable garden, they will be added in short order. In the meantime, I wish you guys beautiful weather, minimal snow, and happy fantasies about your own sunshine, farmer's tans, and spring green lawns!

photo courtesy of Shaylor via Flickr

I may need to join Shoppers Anonymous.

2011-03-10T19:41:00.001-05:00

When I opened my Etsy shop, I decided I'd try to buy stuff I would be happy having in my house long-term. Granted, there's a lot more that goes into deciding what merchandise to carry, but in the early days of wondering whether this thing would fly, I didn't want stuff I hated cluttering up my work space.

The good news with this theory is that I have pretty decent taste and am up-to-date on trends enough that things tend to sell pretty quickly.

The bad news is that things sell pretty quickly, and sometimes, I don't want them to.

Yes, I have experienced Seller Fail several times. The evidence of it is sitting around my house in the form of two white ceramic owls, various pieces of glassware, and until recently, THIS:

Sigh. I love it. No. Make that LUV it. It's an embroidered map, well done and in incredibly good condition. They're difficult to find (I should know--I've been looking for a second one since I found this in the hopes that I could justify keeping one). Alas, no such luck.

Today, I gritted my teeth and listed it. I mean, that's what sellers are supposed to do, right? Sell things?

Dang it.

I have paint on the brain.

2011-02-15T14:12:00.001-05:00

My hallway is long, narrow, and a scuffed-up, shoddy nightmare. I'm exaggerating slightly, but not by much. The drywall is coming apart in spots and there are these odd, lumpy...well....lumps in the wall. Seriously. And though it's not going to be hard to patch and repaint, it's a heck of a lot easier to do it in my HEAD than in real life. So, my redesigns are often done, theoretically, in my head long before they're actually put into practice. It was during my search for hallway inspiration that I stumbled across Farrow & Ball's new 2011 paint colors.

SWOON.

I love unexpected combinations. I'm one of those awful people who would, 9 times out of 10, would rather see a vintage piece repainted and reupholstered rather than lovingly restored to its original luster.

And though I've taken pains to balance my modern leanings with my hundred-year-old cottage, these photos have left me wickedly pining for crazy color combos. Although...now that I'm looking at this one above, the color looks markedly similar to my grandparents painted tile (you read that right) bathroom, where the color was chosen after their eyesight had begun to fade. So maybe not....

But these?

(What odd staging, Farrow & Ball peeps. Did my cat help you out with that?)

And....oh my goodness....THIS.

Wait...remind me again what project I'm supposed to be working on?

10 Things I ♥ about Charleston

2011-02-14T16:15:00.002-05:00

Valentine's Day coincides (almost) with my one-year relocation anniversary. I'm reminded almost daily of why I'm grateful for that decision (just like YOU should appreciate your special peeps on days besides February 14th). But in honor of the "holiday," I thought I'd share a little bit of LUV for my new city.

In semi-random order, here are my favorite experiences and recommendations:

# 1. I can go for a walk on The Battery during my lunch hour. This is arguably THE thing to see while visiting Charleston, and many of the city's residents are pretty jaded to its existence. However, something about being able to walk out my office door and be standing at the water within 15 minutes brings a whole new level of novelty to my day. So what if the aging, uneven sidewalks have made me trip on more than one occasion? I have better things to look at than where my feet are going! But promise me, if you see me floating in the harbor around lunchtime, try to stop laughing long enough to dial 9-1-1.

# 2. It probably goes without saying that the nearby beaches are a huge draw for the residents, but I've spent too much time at Folly Beach not to give it a share of the spotlight. It's a bit of a drive from downtown, but I suspect complaining about a 20-minute drive to the beach would make some of you slap me. The beach itself is a magnet for college students in the summer, and I suppose that fact alone has its pluses and minuses. It's not really good for the seashell/sharks teeth collecting, either. What it IS good for, though, is walking (Louie can tell you all about it!), a laid-back atmosphere, and the most startling night sky I've seen outside of Arizona. Bert's Market is a Folly icon (We may doze, but we never close!), and there are enough restaurants within walking distance to keep your dining options interesting. Lost Dog Cafe, though, takes the prize for its Huevos Rancheros and mason jar Bloody Marys. Come on--you had to know that would be my weak spot. Finally, on a hot day, it's pretty hard to beat the frozen margaritas at Taco Boy.

# 3. "I want to ride my bicycle. I want to ride my bike." Do you know this song? It's possible I sing that in my head as I'm peddling around town. It's also possible that I sing it out loud.

Please don't judge.

I'm a lazy cycler, and I don't really care for hills. Blessedly, at sea level, we don't have that problem. For the most part, drivers are respectful of the bikers, and bikers are somewhat respectful of cars and traffic laws. You can get anywhere on the Peninsula on one of these babies, and when you see how fun it is trying to find a parking spot at times, you'll really appreciate you went the two-wheeled route.

# 4. Food is good, and this is especially true when Mike Lata gets ahold of it. I've spent several lovely evenings at FIG, and so far, it ranks as my favorite spot for fine dining.

#5. Photos of the Ravenel bridge are as ubiquitous around here as shrimp and grits. Whether you're a budding novice or a seasoned amateur, it's hard to get a bad shot. The better experience, though, is the view towards downtown from the top of the bridge during sunset. Heaven. A well-timed walk in the pedestrian lane would be worth your effort.

#6. I am an interior design, home decor JUNKIE, and there is no shortage of inspiration in the Holy City. Two faves are Elizabeth Stuart Design and GDC. Well-known with the locals, they have a little something for every taste and price range. And as soon as I win the lottery, I'll actually shop there.

#7. The Terrace Theater reminds me of going to the movies as a kid. You shouldn't go in expecting an Imax sort of experience--this really isn't that sort of crowd. You CAN get your fill of foreign and independent flicks, though, as well as food and drink from the best concessions collection I've ever seen. Cocktails while I watch a french subtitled movie?? Heck, yeah!

#8. The Saturday farmers market in Marion Square draws residents and tourists alike. The crepes will have you drooling, and the fresh, seasonal produce is unsurpassed. I've found great deals on heirloom tomatoes, and the fresh pasta just can't be beat. And don't forget to bring the pooch--Louie loves all the attention he gets from shoppers.

#9. This entry is a new one within the past several weeks for me. There is a tiny little restaurant on Rutledge, and I'm totally fascinated with its cocktail menu. Granville's serve a variety of Prohibition era-ish drinks, and while I almost never drink cocktails, I'm completely mesmerized by the bartender's concoctions. The tapas-sized apps and salads are also a great accompaniment (I dream about the cauliflower gratin). Egg whites in my beverage still creep me out a bit, but oh,
St. Germain--where have you been all my life?

#10. Last but not least. Happy Valentine's Day, friends. This move has allowed me to reconnect with old friends and has afforded me the amazing opportunity to make new ones. I marvel every day that I've found people who enjoy socializing and eating and galavanting as much as I do. Thanks! We may need to talk about diet plans sometime soon, though.

The Zoo

2011-01-28T15:12:00.003-05:00

When I get tired of working out at the gym or saving the rainforest or eating foie gras...

Wait.

No.

Let me start over.

When I get tired of socializing with friends or being lazy on the couch with a book or watching The Golden Girls, I chase my animals around with my camera.

Or course, this is only possible when they're still.
When they're running around and wrestling, they just look like little blurs.

I swear...things aren't normally this peaceful.

But at some magical point in the day, they all opt to lounge around...

And pick their favorite sun spot....

Or pose awkwardly on a comforter. (I have no idea.)

Or perch in their favorite windows...

And I take tons and tons of shots...

Until they tell me to leave 'em the heck alone.

A Husk Addendum

2011-01-14T13:37:00.008-05:00

Okay, so I wasn't crazy about the food, but let's give credit where credit is due. Husk's bar in the original kitchen house is both charming and swank. Though the building is two-story, it has a small footprint, allowing for plenty of seating while maintaining a definite cozy feel. Above, you see the second floor. I apologize for the lack of first floor shots where the actual bar resides, but I didn't want to look like that nut who takes photos of everything. Which I am. But I don't need people to THINK that I am.

Moving onward....

There are plenty of great spots to sit and stare at the foot traffic....

...and the restaurant is just next door. With a lounge this lovely, patrons surely won't mind if they're asked to wait a little while for a table.

On the way out the door, we stopped to pay our tab. A glitch with the computer kept us waiting a minute. As my eyes started to wander, I spotted Sean Brock at a table by the door. At about the same moment, someone whispered not-so-discretely in my ear, "There's Mike Lata from FIG." And while I tried to pretend not to know my doe-eyed friend, a third person in our party squealed "AND one of the Lee brothers!!" I left a little embarrassed but giddy.

Assuming our identification skills were up to snuff, that makes for a pretty impressive group of foodies. Not including myself, of course. It's worth noting that none of them were hanging out together; they were just hanging out.

How many chefs do you know that hang out in their restaurant in their off hours? How many of YOU hang out at your place of employment when you don't have to be there? Kudos to anyone who can create a place he wants to spend both his work and leisure time, and kudos again to someone who can make that same place appealing to a diverse lot of locals and visitors.

As for me, I predict Husk Happy Hours in my future. And Chef Brock, if one of those mod, cubed leather ottomans goes missing while I happen to be there,
I won't know anything about it.

Is it wrong to dream about summer in January?

2011-01-04T21:00:00.003-05:00

Can't you just see yourself in this lovely silk and linen number from threelittleducksaust? Let me rephrase that: If you're a woman, can't you just see yourself in this lovely silk and linen number?

Sigh.......

The temperature is currently 43°. There are 167 days until summer. Are you ready?

This gospel brunch is divine.

2010-12-21T11:24:00.003-05:00

I have this problem when I'm out at a great restaurant and want to take a snapshot of my food. I get entirely too excited the upcoming meal and entirely unfocused on what I'm photographing. Most photos generally turn out like this:

These are grits. Really fuzzy, unfocused grits. 'Cause I didn't want to look at them. I wanted to shovel them into my mouth in huge forkfuls. And I did.

But let me back up a minute. We walked into Hall's Chophouse at 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning and were immediately waylaid by the enthusiastic hospitality of Billy Hall. Or at least I think it was Billy. It was definitely a Hall, but I was so taken aback by his....effusiveness....I blanked while he was talking. The gentleman offered to take my coat, and I responded with a dumbfounded, "Here, take it!"

I swear, Mr. Hall: my mama raised me better than that.

Hall's is beautiful and bright, and we were enveloped in the sounds of a soloist belting out gospel and Christmas tunes. We had a reservation (though I'm not entirely certain it was necessary) and were ushered quickly upstairs.

Now, what's the proper way to kick off brunch?

Yes ma'am. This drink is magnanimously entitled "Hall's Famous Bloody Mary."

I don't know about "famous," but it was darned good. So was the second one.

And then I slid off my chair.

One of my companions declined to order her Bloody Mary right away. She claimed she needed to sample mine first. Our waiter smiled politely, disappeared, and returned with our drinks a few minutes later. Said friend grabbed my glass and took a swig. Her eyes lit up. She nodded her head madly. The waiter, again, smiled politely. He disappeared for a mere 3 seconds before returning with her beverage. He'd requested one with the first round of drinks, hiding this one just out of sight. He was just that dang confident in their Bloody Mary-making prowess.

Hats off to you, sir.

We placed our orders, the psychic waiter departed, and as is my custom, I began squirming in my chair. I mused over the enormous light fixtures in the dining room (neat brass frame; questionable shades), glanced over my shoulder into the stairwell, and immediately began drooling.

A simple arrangement of vintage-y light fixtures. I have no mixed emotions about these.

Bread baskets are usually "hit or miss" with me. I always sample the contents because...well....it's bread. But some bread makes me wish that all I had to eat was bread, while other bread might as well be flavorless cotton balls.

Enter the offering from Hall's Chophouse.

"What is this," you ask? It's a popover. Moreover, it's a popover as big as your hand. Steaming and eggy, and all three were devoured in seconds.

Those of you with small stomachs will be full after eating this baby, but please try to power on through.

Hall's French Toast is billed as lavender-scented brioche with Vermont maple syrup and an espresso mascarpone cream. I have this mental imagine of someone standing in the kitchen, spritzing bread with a lavender perfume bottle. Honestly, I didn't taste any lavender flavor. If it was there, I think it was just overpowered by that espresso cream.

Despite my culinary confusion, I loved it. In fact, I did my best to finish off the whole darned plate, except that my stomach was full of that blissful popover. The espresso cream was a fantastic accompaniment to the bread, and if I could, I'd probably roll around in it. Luckily, my dining companions shoved me back in my chair before my tongue could hit the plate.

Those blurry grits up there were definitely different. I'm not a fan of pepper in my grits, and the addition of pepperjack definitely gave these things a peppery kick. The little okra garnish in the center was quite tasty, but if I like the garnish more than the actual dish, well...I guess that's not saying much. Points for creativity.

The Bloody Mary-stealer had The Chophouse Omelet with Prime steak, mushrooms, creamed spinach, onions, white cheddar and Swiss. I'm pretty sure she liked it, but I was so embarrassed by the muffled sounds of joy coming from her side of the table, I tried to pretend I didn't know her.

With a number of waitstaff stopping by our table to check on us, we never lacked for anything, and yet they still sort of blended into the background. Our dining experience was beyond satisfying---heavenly, in fact---and we've told no fewer than a dozen people to put it high on their brunch priority list. This place is a mecca for good food, and its owners and staff are the epitome of hospitality. Case in point: One of the owners called the following day to make sure we enjoyed our experience.

And in the event I have not made myself clear enough: Yes. Yes, we most absolutely, certainly, did.

But please consider bottling and selling that espresso mascarpone cream sauce.

Weekend Getaway

2010-12-13T15:11:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, you have to go find your own White Christmas. It's probably not going to happen of it's own accord down here on the coast. This past Sunday, though? This is what I woke up to.

Now, you jaded Northerners may look at this and groan...

...but this is a once-a-year event for some of us.

And THIS looks like a friggin' Christmas card.

AND I don't have to shovel these walks. No sir....

That white stuff is somebody else's problem and solely for my own amusement.

It's almost as beautiful inside. This is The Grove Park Inn in Asheville, NC,

for those of you who haven't caught on yet. Unless you want to believe I live in a

turn-of-the-century mansion on an idyllic street in one of my favorite cities

in America. I'm okay with that, too.

Alas---I don't live here, and they made me leave.

In the SNOW.

Apparently, they use these plows to remove snow from the roads.

Why would you do such a thing?

I love both Grove Park and Asheville, though Grove Park is not really representative of Asheville and Asheville is so much more than The Grove Park. The Inn, Biltmore Estate, and the city itself warrant multiple trips during the year. For such a small city, there is absurd amount of stuff to occupy your time-- shopping, eating, spa trips, outdoor activities galore and wash, rinse, repeat.

Go.

Now.

Demolishing the House: Before & After's

2010-12-03T10:59:00.003-05:00

I'm itching to share my latest trip to brunch, but I've lost my memory card for the camera. Why? Because the house has been in complete upheaval and disarray since Sunday.

Here's a bit of backstory on my house: It's a 1920's freedman's cottage in a downtown area where space is at a premium. With a yard the size of a small postage stamp, there is no way to add on to the house. From pretty much the moment I first set foot in the place, I've been trying to figure out ways to make the place feel more open. Well....what better way to do that than bust out a wall?

(before)

(after)

(before)

(after)
P.S. Please excuse mess and cats.

We lost a bit of space when we removed the cabinetry...

...so we added a built-in in the dining room. You can't see it in this wonky photo, but there is a seat under the window which will provide additional seating
at the dining room table.

And when I say "we" busted down the wall and built the cabinet and did all sorts of other fabulous things not pictured here, I really mean our fabulous contractor. No one in their right mind would give me a sledgehammer. I also don't build things. Thank goodness you can hire competent people who CAN.

While I was a little hesitant about changing the overall structure of the house and really didn't want it to lose its cottage-y charm, I really think this makes the space more livable.

And the next time I invite a dozen people over for cocktails, I'll actually be able to SEE them.

A Sacriligious Restaurant Review

2010-11-23T11:54:00.004-05:00

I've fallen in love with brunch. Okay...really, I've fallen in love with Bloody Mary's, and I need the food as an accompaniment. (ahem)

Sunday morning brunch is as much a part of life in Charleston as one-way streets and flooding at high tide. Are you a college student who's still a little drunk from Saturday night's debauchery and need a dimly-lit dive to recover? There's a brunch place for you! High-toned Charlestonian who--admit it--is also still a little drunk from the night before that wants a slightly less grungy spot? You too, can toddle on over for eggs benedict and grits. And with the addition of Husk, you have one more spot to choose from.

I don't think there's been a more-talked-about Charleston restaurant and chef lately than Husk and Sean Brock. His much-celebrated work at McCrady's had locals and tourists alike giddy over his plans for this new spot. I've read reviews of both places, and invariably, the writer raves about the food, the drink, the atmosphere--everything.

As such, I really REALLY wanted to like these restaurants, (and I fear what I have to say next is going to be unpopular)....but I don't.

I will pause to allow you to collect yourself. It's okay---really. I have my reasons, and your reasons might not be my reasons.

Let me tell you what I DO like.

Husk is friggin' BEAUTIFUL. It's been completely renovated, and while some people may not like the modern, stainless steel banister climbing the back staircase, I loved it. Huge windows allow light to stream in. An enormous chalkboard near the hostess stand lists a vast array of southern ingredients that have been painstakingly selected. We sat at a rustic wooden round table that was reminiscent of a butcher block. A little light bluegrass played through the meal, and I only annoyed a few people by singing and bopping around in my chair. I love the south, and I felt like I was swimming in it here.
Loved my server. And I'm really bad at names, so I apologize that I can't give him more specific props, but sir---you were most patient with my ridiculous dietary request. Thank you.
I appreciate creativity. Please note: a little creativity goes a long way.
I fully believe that the best way to improve our diet would be to concentrate on local, seasonal ingredients, and Husk certainly does that.
Husk serves desert and cocktails. And really, in the grand scheme of things, do you need much more to be happy?

So, Sean Brock, good job on all those counts.

Then, what's the problem? I confess, it's one of my own making. As a vegetarian, I'm accustomed to limited options on a menu. This problem is amplified in fine dining where entrees rarely venture away from some sort of meat product. Nearly all restaurants are super-accodating, though, and what I usually end up with in restaurants of Husk's ilk is a hodgepodge of veggies and sides that are normally served alongside the entrees. This gives me the added benefit of being able to try a variety of dishes and usually leaves me quite pleased.

Husk and McCrady's take this up a notch by creating a completely new vegetarian entree. My Sunday brunch consisted of a medley of local, seasonal vegetables topped with a light green tomato sauce.

It's beautiful, isn't it? This lovely plate of barely-steamed vegetables. And it actually tasted okay, apart from the fact that I felt like a cow gnawing on my leafy greens in a pasture. So I ask you, Sean Brock and chefs of the world--would you order this for your meal? Have you ever even tasted this creation?

Let me back up a second by reviewing the "rules" of vegetarianism. We don't eat beef, poultry, and seafood. We do eat dairy and eggs. Vegetarianism should not be confused with a diabetic's diet, Atkins, the raw food movement, or veganism. As you can imagine, that leaves us a lot of options apart from vegetables.

As a vegetarian, there are two phrases that make me cringe: "Do you eat seafood?" and "I guess you could get a salad." My brunch entree (and the entree I had awhile back at McCrady's) was, essentially, a warm salad. Worse, my McCrady's meal consisted largely of crunchy beets topped with beet foam. Blech. The menus for Husk and McCrady's both boast vegetarian options that change depending on ingredient availability. If you're going to the trouble to advertise that you have vegetarian options, shouldn't the options at least be palatable? and filling?

Here's what saved brunch. No, my grits didn't come to the table like that, but I and my tablemates dove in before I remembered I had a camera. They were a perfect, creamy, cheesy thickness. So wonderful, I had to go home and slap my mama. Sorry, mom.

The jury is still out on this one. Husk's rendition of a Bloody tastes faintly of barbecue sauce. It's made with pickled vegetables and 26-ish other ingredients. And vodka. Let's not forget about the vodka.

Pound cake soaked in rum and topped with chocolate creole cream cheese ice cream. I could have bathed in that ice cream. Dessert and coffee are not normally on my list of things I order for brunch, but this was hard to resist. And if you're sharing it with the other people in your party, what's the harm? Okay, so maybe I didn't share and scarfed it all down myself with one arm tucked protectively around the plate so no one could steal a bite. If you want to do the same thing, then no judgement.

I've had successful dining experiences on multiple occasions at a variety of Charleston fine dining establishments. A vegetarian entree should be something even a meat-eater will occasionally want to order, and if you can't come up with something of that caliber, I'd say it's best to not even try. I know it can be done, Chef Brock. I have faith in you. Taste what you serve. Cook your vegetables just a little bit more (my beans shouldn't be crunchy!), and please--go easy on the beets.

Beach Day

2010-04-14T13:42:00.002-04:00

A definite perk to uprooting my life and relocating to a new city is this:
Waking up on a lazy Sunday, walking around the corner for brunch,
then packing up Louie for a leisurely stroll on the beach.
Except it wasn't that leisurely...

We walked...

and walked...

and walked!

The surf was very foamy, and Louie was a bit confused by the stuff. He sniffed it and gave chase when the wind blew it away in little off-white clouds.

And then, I let him get chased by a gigantic 3-inch "wave." How could you, mom??

So, we checked out the barnacles...

and a big pink jellyfish...

and the seaweed.

It was a beautiful, perfect morning.

Except the stiff breeze made his butt fur look silly.

My current addiction

2010-04-09T10:42:00.005-04:00

The furniture has yet to be moved into my new home, which gives me plenty of time to fixate on the bareness of the floors. There isn't a stitch of carpet anywhere. This becomes painfully obvious whenever Louie barks, since the sound reverberates nicely off all the hardwood and tile. Consequently, we are desperately in need of rugs. I'm a great researcher but a very slow decision-maker. I mean, a rug is a major design element in a room. Never mind the fact that a good rug costs hundreds, if not thousands. And returning a room-sized rug if I don't like it? Perish the thought.

What I have so far is a melange of different pieces in varying colors. My design taste is pretty eclectic, but for this house, and I'm going for something a tad more cohesive. Think "country cottage" meets "tropical." NOT beach house. There will be NO palm trees or seashells, unless we're talking about the real palmettos outside and my real seashell collection. I'm envisioning a lot of natural wood and white with a few pops of other colors scattered about. NOTE: I reserve the right to retract that "white" idea, pending a study on the effect on dogs and cats on the brightness of white.

clockwise from top left: Pebble Rug in ivory from West Elm; Milos Area Rug in beige from Home Decorators Collection; Belo Shag Rug in Natural from West Elm

I love the idea of a large white/off-white/ivory rug in the living room. Go ahead: just slap me now. Keep in mind that I've already tried this once. I had a cute white shag rug from Ikea that, within a month, morphed to a shade of dirty ivory. You couldn't clean one spot without cleaning the entire thing, and it eventually found its way to the curb. The devil on my shoulder now says that maybe, just maybe, if I have a rug that isn't bright white to start with, the dirt will be easier to manage.

Souk by Thomas Paul Rugs via Design Public; Reverie Rug in China Blue from Home Decorators Collection; Royale Area Rug in Navy/Gold from Home Decorators Collection

I'm also a big fan of blue, not only for its fantastic ability to mask dirt but for its nautical feel. Navy has a tendency to feel way too traditional for me, though. And the pattern of rug #3 is getting dangerously close to traditional. Or renaissance fair. Neither is acceptable.

clockwise from top left: Durand Area Rug in blue from Home Decorators Collection; Flock Dhurrie by Thomas Paul Rugs via Design Public; Laurent Area Rug in ivory/blue from Home Decorators Collection; Plain Tin in Slate from Dash and Albert

Coral Dhurrie from Thomas Paul Rugs via Design Public; Poetry Rug in black from Home Decorators Collection; Floral Fresco Rug from Anthropologie; Vintage Floral Rug from Home Decorators Collection

It may just be the allergy meds, but my head is spinning. Is "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe" an appropriate method of home design?

My enemies

2010-04-05T10:23:00.004-04:00

My fascination with the insect kingdom stops with cicadas. And maybe ladybugs. They're okay. And roly-polys. I mean--really--what harm do they do?

I was only vaguely acquainted with the no-see-um until I moved to a coastal area. Now, I'm covered in tiny, red welts, and they itch like nobody's business. This started a couple weeks ago, and I asked my more bug-savvy friends what the deal was with these blood-sucking monsters.

They answered simply. "No-see-ums."

Oh. Right. Those things.

"They'll be here until August."

I was aghast. August?? They get here in March and stay for five months? And knowing our weather, it's probably more like late-September.

I already refrain from using scented ANYTHING in the summer months because of these wretched things:

Unlike no-see-ums, mosquitoes leave GIGANTIC red welts on my skin. And you know how they're said to like certain people more than others? Well, I'm one of those people. It turns out I have a similar effect on their smaller cousins, and it appears I'll be covered in bug spray for an extra two months.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the one other thing I take issue with in the insect kingdom. Its presence is wholly unforgivable.

I hate...no....LOATH cockroaches. I feel certain the hierarchy of living things would not suffer unduly if they became extinct. In South Carolina, they are lovingly referred to as "Palmetto Bugs." Strangers to the state often ask wonderingly about this mythical creature, and a typical answer is, "You'll see." A Palmetto Bug is gentrified term for a giant cockroach, and it is not uncommon to have them skitter across your floor or wall. The dog and cats ignore them, I shriek hysterically, and unless you act quickly, they're gone in seconds. I realize I could smack them with my shoe and be done with it, but I've found that closing one's eyes and screaming for someone else to take care of it generally works wonders.

So, as we approach full-blown bug season, I say to my buggy enemies: BRING IT ON. In somebody else's house, please. And could you leave me alone when I'm walking outside? I don't think that's too much to ask. Thanks.

A perfect kind of day

2010-03-31T12:00:00.005-04:00

I'll spare you any apologies for the long absence and explain away my lax behavior by saying that I've moved. I've moved to what some might say is the heart of sweet tea and cicadas and all that's southern. And yet, as a city that attracts people from all over the world, Charleston, SC is soooooo not southern. It SOUNDS southern (some of it). It definitely looks southern. Its food is mind-blowingly, breath-takingly cosmopolitan and fantastic. And--I admit it--I am in love. Fear not, friends and family--I still miss you. But see what I get to do every day?

I get to walk here.

And here.

I am bombarded with color.

Surrounded by a vast variety of trees.

All with my favorite walking partner.

We visit the seagulls and the ducks.

And sniff the clover.

We watch some baseball.

And we finish up at the dog park, whereupon someone's dog gets tackled by a bigger dog and cries like a little girl. I'm not naming any names, but he looks a little like a furry cow when he's sniffing clover. I'm just sayin'...

Perfect is only recognized as such when combined with experiences that are not-so-perfect. Or, at least, that was what I told my furry little cow as I walked him back home.

Merry Christmas, Scooter!

2009-12-15T15:48:00.005-05:00

In October 2008, a bedraggled little Australian Shepherd came to my house for a one week visit. Diagnosed with a cocktail of health problems, one week quickly turned into a month. A respiratory infection required antibiotic. One month turned into three when heartworms required life-threatening treatment. Finally, she was given a clean bill of health, but nobody really showed an interest in adopting her. The economy had tanked, and three months slowly slid into a year.

We took photos night and day, coaxing her into the silliest and cutest poses in the hopes of winning the heart of some stranger. We talked her up to our friends, asking anyone and everyone if they were in the market for a dog. We got nothing. Nada.

In the meantime, we kept up with our busy lives. We were in and out of town constantly. Sometimes, the dogs did some traveling, too. Other times, it just made sense to hire a petsitter. And boy, did we love our petsitter. Mary walked the dogs, loved the dogs, fed them, bathed them, trimmed their nails. She sent updates on their well-being and still managed to hold onto her patience when Louie did stupid things. He destroyed a lamp. Whoops. And locked her out of the house. Double-whoops. And when we'd finally come back home, the dogs and cats would look at us like, "What? Did you go somewhere?"

Along came Drew. Drew loved Mary, and Drew fell in love with Scooter, too. Big changes were afoot. He found a new job very far away. He asked Mary to be his wife. She said yes, and they quickly planned a move.

So, Drew and Mary had each other, but there was still the issue of Scooter. Drew loved Scooter with a capital L-U-V. Mary decided that Scoot would be the perfect Christmas present for Drew, so she submitted the adoption application. It took awhile for the application to get where it needed to go, but finally, it was approved! A home visit was scheduled...and then cancelled. Scooter's vet found a tumor that needed to be removed.

A surgery was schedule, and the tumor, removed. Benign! Hooray! Long recovery time...BOO! And finally, finally, FINALLY the home visit was rescheduled.

It went well.

Very well.

Yup. I choose you.

As I type this, Scooter is on her way to Ohio. I have no doubt that she spent 14 months with us waiting for Mary and Drew. And if we had to take care of her for 14 months to get her to her perfect home,

then it was well worth it.

Merry Christmas, Scoot. And Merry Christmas, Mary & Drew!

2009 Holiday Card Gift Guide!

2009-12-02T10:33:00.005-05:00

I love mail. LOVE it. Wait--let me clarify. I love letters. Grocery store circulars and credit card offers? You can keep 'em. A holiday letter? Fire away! People have been sending Christmas cards since the mid-19th century. Even with the advent of email, our physical mailboxes are never left empty when a holiday or birthday approaches. Why? Because that brightly-colored cardstock can never be replaced by the nebulous email.

Grab a pen and some stamps. The 2009 USPS stamps are quick and easy, but if you really want to jazz things up, you can create your own postage at Zazzle.

Now, my favorite part. I did handmade cards last year--a great option if you have the time. If not, rest assured, there is an endless array of greeting cards out there. Some a little more nifty than others, so here are some of my favorites from around the web.

Clockwise from top left: Happy Holidays Record Card via Paper Source; Holly Happy Holidays via Egg Press; Bicycle Holiday Cards via Paper Source; Garland Christmas Card via Rifle Paper Co.; Decorated Tree Card via Egg Press; Ho Ho Ho card via Egg Press.

xmas menagerie card via broadway paper; Mix Tape Holiday Card by Paper Source; Hello! Lucky Deck the Halls Christmas Letterpress Card via Luxe Paperie; holiday squirrel nut card via broadway paper; Mermaid Card via Egg Press; Tidings of Joy Letterpress Holiday Card by Paper Source; Raccoon Ornament Hybrid card by Night Owl Paper Goods.

Thank goodness I have all this help decorating the tree.

2009-12-01T22:24:00.001-05:00

Louie is new to us, new to the house, and new to holiday decorations. I expected him to be interested in the Christmas tree. I just didn't expect him to LUV the tree.

The tree was very tall. I ran out of lights on the first day, and it's taken two full days just get it covered. Meanwhile, Louie has spent hours lounging under its branches. But this is not a tiny dog, and the space at the bottom of the tree is about what you would expect.

Louie doesn't care there isn't really enough room

for him AND the presents.

To Louie, the branches and the lights are bee-yoo-ti-ful!

And, really---who needs presents when you have a Louie?

Frijoles Negros in No Time

2009-11-30T11:49:00.001-05:00

My last resolution of 2009 is to not let the holidays get the best of me. I will NOT be reduced to a last-minute scramble for stocking stuffers at the office supply store. I will NOT wait 'til the last minute to wrap presents only to run out of Scotch tape, and as such, I will not resort to using packing tape on my thoughtfully-wrapped gifts. AND I will NOT stoop to eating a cheese and cracker dinner because I'm too pooped to chop a vegetable.

Please disregard the fact that, yesterday, I ran out of gift boxes and have one child's outfit sitting folded and unwrapped on top of the pile of presents slated for charity. The Scotch tape has cat hair stuck in it. Dinner? It was tortilla chips, collards, and some kind of unidentified snack mix that were all part of our Happy Hour appetizers gone awry. Big sigh...

So, in what seems to be the running theme of this blog, I say again: Do as I say, not as I do. Pull out your crockpot, and get ready to prepare a cheap, easy, and tasty dinner that does not involve a single overly-processed food.

We're starting with coarsely chopped onions and peppers.

Add a healthy amount of garlic.

Use dried beans. They're cheap, plentiful, and filthy. Please wash them and look out for rocks. Remember kids: it's all fun and games until someone cracks a tooth.

Much better!

Toss all your ingredients in the crockpot. Cook them to death.

Made with dried beans, the result is a very flavorful, simple pot of beans that you can scoop over rice and top with salsa, avocado, cheese, or whatever you like. Soak your beans overnight, and you'll have black bean soup. This freezes well, and because this recipe makes such an enormous pile of beans or pot of soup, you'll be glad it does.

As a final note, please remember that a little jalapeno goes a long way. Unless you're a glutton for punishment, you'll want to remove and throw away the seeds. It's also best to prepare these while wearing gloves. Otherwise, your skin will burn and if you're like me, you'll absentmindedly rub your eye. Maybe I should have titled this one "Recipe for Disaster".

Slow-Cooked Cuban Black Beans

1 lb dried black beans, sorted and rinsed

1 large onion, chopped

1 large bell pepper, chopped

5 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 bay leaves

1 14.5-oz can diced tomatoes, undrained

5 cups water

2 Tbs olive oil

4 Tbs ground cumin

1 finely chopped jalapeno (optional)

1 tsp salt or to taste

Soak beans overnight and discard soak water if you're planning to make a soup. Combine all ingredients in crockpot and cook on low for 8-10 hours or until beans are tender and most of the liquid is absorbed. Remove bay leaves before serving.

So thankful for the beautiful weather...

2009-11-27T15:39:00.003-05:00

...and for the fact that I didn't run off the road while taking these photos. Yes, I had one hand on the wheel and one on the camera button. But really--if you'd been on this beautiful drive yesterday,

it would have been hard for you to resist as well.

I don't live in a major city, but there is enough pavement to make me wish for a home in the country. Not enough to move an hour away, mind you. I mean, let's not get crazy.

Look! Real, live sheep! Or...wait...maybe those are cows. It's sort of hard to tell when they're the size of a pinhead. Come to think of it, I don't really remember seeing any sheep yesterday.
So....look! Real, live cows!

Over the river...erm...lake...and through the woods.

Cute little country houses. I have to constantly remind myself that their heating and cooling bills are probably through the roof.

I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. Don't get so wrapped up in your holiday shopping that you forget to look at the passing scenery. There will always be shopping. Beautiful days with perfect weather? Never enough.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program...

2009-11-18T21:10:00.002-05:00

I've been scouring the web for Christmas guide ideas and stumbled across these lovely napkin rings. How perfect would they be for your Thanksgiving table?

Add this table runner...

..and wine glasses...

...and this brilliant beverage dispenser that will keep family squabbles to a minimum, and you're halfway there. Now all you need is the china. And food.

That's it--carry on now, peeps.

You have a WHOLE WEEK to get your ducks in a row.

Busy weekend!

2009-11-16T10:05:00.000-05:00

Sunday was a blur. I photographed and painted and cleaned and photographed some more and still found time to cook a passable dinner. The results of my handiwork?

Glasses I'd rather keep than sell....

...and an owl I'd rather...well....keep than sell.

It's a wonder I ever get anything posted in that shop!

I think I stepped into some kind of time warp...

2009-11-09T11:39:00.004-05:00

...and was propelled a couple weeks into the future. I remember the time, but the days have gone by in something of a blur.

What have I been doing?

I visited the White House. Or rather, I stood outside of the White House during a momentary reprieve from a conference that

monopolized nearly a week of my time.

I baked a couple loaves of beer bread: one plain, and one with swiss, garlic, and rosemary. Look good, don't they? They weren't. Oh, the herb loaf was okay right out of the oven with a small sliver of butter, but what WOULDN'T be good right out of the oven with a small sliver of butter? Once they cooled to room temperature, they tasted bitter. I blame the cheap beer--next time, I'll go for something darker and more robust. And no more quick bread. I want a warm, yeast dough that rises for hours.

Yesterday, I spent the better part of my morning slaving away in the kitchen to bring you (and my tummy) something far more palatable. We're enjoying balmy 70-something-degree weather and awaiting the remnants of Hurricane Ida. However, I really needed a dose of faux-fall yesterday. I mean, the temp plummets to the 40's in the evening (seriously, in my book, that's winter). Sure, the days are beautiful and I do constantly remind myself that this is why I like living here, but I have this lovely new wool coat and Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I could SUNBATHE in the afternoons.

Geez.

Enter these lovely little pumpkin cranberry muffins. This batch was based on another recipe that needed a little tweaking. I mean, I don't think I'd call 8 tbsp "some butter". And it has enough sugar to send you into a diabetic coma. And I hate raisins. For honesty's sake, I'm publishing the recipe as I made it yesterday. However, I strongly recommend cutting back on the butter, as well as cutting back the sugar to 1 1/2 cups. Most importantly, these little muffins are just BEGGING for some coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans. You may also try substituting some or all of the white flour for wheat.

Let's get started! Grab the beverage of your choice.

Don't get excited---this is Spicy V8.

We're using a combination of applesauce (I used cinnamon-flavored) and pumpkin, and this is one of the reasons I'm pretty sure you could afford to cut down on the butter. These were incredibly moist, and I don't think the recipe would suffer if you cut back on some of the fat and calories. For spice, I used a combo of ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon.

I would like to personally thank whoever invented the Craisin. As stated earlier, I hate raisins. Dried up, shriveled grapes?? No thanks!

Dried up, shriveled cranberries?? Okay!

Cream the butter and sugar. Thank the heavens for your electric mixer, and pat it nicely whenever you use it.

Try not to trip over the "helpers". They're excellent when you accidentally spill some sugar on the floor, though.

Add the pumpkin, applesauce, eggs and vanilla. Add the dry ingredients, alternating with the cider. Stir in the cranberries. Attention lovers of batter: this is an appropriate time to "taste test".

You will almost certainly need a glass of milk on hand.

Pumpkin Cranberry Muffins

Makes approximately 27 muffins

butter or cooking spray

3 1/3 c. all-purpose flour

2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp salt

6-8 tbsp unsalted butter , softened

1 1/2-2 c. sugar

4 large eggs

1 c. applesauce

1 c. canned mashed pumpkin

1 tsp vanilla extract

2/3 c. apple juice or cider

1 1/2 cups dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 375°F. Grease muffin pan with butter or spray. Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and salt. Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Beat in eggs, applesauce, pumpkin, and vanilla until well blended. Add dry ingredients, alternating with the juice, beginning and ending with the dry mixture. Fold in cranberries. Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling each cup two-thirds full. Bake 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of each muffin comes out clean. Repeat until remaining batter has been used.

It's Halloween Crunch Time!

2009-10-20T13:40:00.004-04:00

I'm positively mesmerized by the array of spooky Halloween decor available. Today, I'm focusing on some fantastic Etsy finds guaranteed to liven up your humdrum holiday decor.

Okay, I confess to already having an unnatural obsession with

doll head molds. I can scarcely think of anything more fabulously creepy than disembodied doll heads. Muddstuff turns this fascination into a work of art (or at least a fab conversation piece). And I'm pretty sure every home could use a little mouse army.

I'm so in love with the work of Owly Shadow Puppets. This owl is the perfect spooky-but-not-too-spooky addition to your Halloween decor.

And on the so-friggin-cute-I-can't-stand-it front, we have this darling little

felted wool pumpkin by AppleHillDolls.

I think I'm in love.

2009-10-14T12:27:00.001-04:00

Isn't Nanette Lapore's Sweetheart shoe just the most beautiful thing EVER? And at $350, it's a steal (for someone not currently

employed by state government). Sigh...

While we're at it, I also wouldn't be opposed to Elizabeth and James' Risky pump. Although, you realize of course that the "risky" part would be me putting on a 4-inch stiletto heel and trying to ambulate anywhere.

Mental note: Must win the lottery and develop a better sense of balance.

Kitchen Confessional

2009-10-13T12:23:00.006-04:00

Okay, let me take a deep breath, first. I'll just get right to the point. There are a few things about me you may find a little shocking.

1. I'm a vegetarian. I realize this is not new information to my friends and family who may be reading, but let's face it: A southern vegetarian is sort of an oxymoron. Furthermore, my culinary choices run the gamut from Mexican to Indian to Italian to what I've come to think as a new traditional southern. You'll see this reflected in my recipes. If you came here looking for barbecued pork and new recipes for that deer your husband just dragged home, you have soooo missed the mark by coming here. Sorry!

2. I began subscribing to Martha Stewart Living when I was in high school. Let's do the math, shall we? (I have nothing to hide.) That would be....oh....about 15 years ago. Again, I realize a fascination for Good Things and fine cooking was a little unusual for a high schooler in the 90's. No worries--I had plenty of other fun things going on. But my pseudo-kitchen career got started early. My love for Martha Stewart hasn't really faded so much as branched out into cooking and design styles that are more ME, but I'm still a subscriber.

3. I wash my knives in the dishwasher. And pots and pans. I know that's like knife and pot murder. I promise, when I get a fab, top-of-the-line set, I won't do it. Much. I also wash mushrooms.

Ahem.

Moving on....

4. I use frozen vegetables. Specifically today, I'm talking about frozen okra. Mind you, I recognize the culinary superiority of fresh okra. Cooked properly, its tenderness cannot be surpassed. It's just so darned difficult to find. Yes, I see okra at the farmers market all the time, but rarely do I see okra that is a perfect solid green. You can't buy the big ones. No matter how long you cook them, you might as well be trying to chew up straw and cardboard. No--they must be small and green and perfect. And that okra almost never finds its way into my hands. So, I resort to frozen. I can keep it in the house year-round, so sometimes, frozen will just have to do.

One more confession...

5. I prefer canned tomatoes over fresh for this recipe. The reasoning is pretty much the same. You're hardly ever going to find a substantial and tart enough fresh tomato to go into this dish. More to the point, I don't have the heart to cook my fresh-from-the-garden tomatoes.

Now that I've cleared my conscience, I'll just reiterate that this isn't exactly traditional southern cooking. For one thing, southerners believe you need meat to flavor your vegetables. Insanity. I respect my produce enough to think that veggies can hold their own and don't need much of anything to "improve" their flavor.

We'll start with some chopped onion.

I prefer Vidalias (pronounced vah-dale-yuh).

And a cocktail. Okay, I really wanted red wine but can't tell the $10 bottles from the $50 bottles, so I didn't dare open anything. I'm also not really a big liquor drinker, so my "cocktail" was mostly just as glass of ZingZang.

Throw that onion in a pan with a clove or two of minced garlic

and several glugs of olive oil.

Our frozen okra. See there on the bag? "Whole Baby Okra."

This is important because okra can get quite big.

Dear Unnamed Grocery Store Chain: This is NOT baby okra.

This is regular ole full-grown adult okra. It is whole, though, so you did get one thing right. Can you imagine gnawing on a four-inch-long piece of okra? I can't.

Luckily, those little okra pods will magically chop themselves up into bite-sized pieces once you cover them to steam for a bit. A side note: okra gets really hot when you're sauteing it. It's okay, grocery store--I'll suffer for my art. Pour that can of tomatoes on top, and we'll be all set to veg out in front of the TV with our cocktail while our dinner simmers!

Pickled okra makes a nice snack while we're waiting.

Wishes mom ate something tastier than vegetables. Okra is boring.

Okay, we've let it simmer covered on the stove long enough for the okra to soften up nicely. Remove the lid and simmer a little longer to allow the mixture to thicken up slightly.

I'm of the opinion that okra and tomatoes needs some kind of vehicle to carry it to your mouth. My grain of choice is usually brown rice, not because it tastes fabulous but because it's healthier than some of my other options. However, feel free to experiment. White rice would be the traditional route. Quinoa might also be an interesting choice. If you really want to go all out though, I mean, really want to spend some calories, risotto is a surprisingly amazing accompaniment. I discovered this with a leftover batch one night, and the creaminess of the rice offsets the tanginess of the tomatoes quite nicely.

One quick note on the "slime" factor. You'll notice that mine really isn't all that slimy, and that's because of the acid in the tomatoes

and the fact that I don't cook it to DEATH.

You can experiment with adding herbs, although this particular recipe was built for speed and simplicity. This can serve as a meal on its own for veg heads like me, but it's also wonderful with black-eyed peas, corn bread, collards or other greens, and...um...ham.

Okra and Tomatoes

Makes 4 large portions

3 tbsp olive oil or butter

1 large onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 large 28 oz can tomatoes, with juices

14 oz water

16 oz okra, fresh or frozen

salt and pepper, to taste

rice or other grain, cooked

Heat oil in a large saucepan or skillet over medium-high heat. Saute onions until slightly softened. Add garlic and saute for one more minute. Add okra. Cover and steam approximately 5 minutes if frozen or saute a few minutes, uncovered, for fresh. Add tomatoes and juices. Add water (half a tomato can). Add salt and pepper. Stir to combine. Cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer for 20 minutes or until okra is tender. Remove lid and raise heat to medium. Simmer until mixture has thicken slightly. Serve over rice.

This recipe improves in the fridge overnight, so make enough for leftovers!

Faking Fall Color

2009-10-12T10:26:00.006-04:00

My alarm went off bright and early at 7 a.m. when there was barely any light outside.

"Surely, this must be a mistake," I thought.

No such luck. It was a lovely, dark rainy morning, and I had to drag myself out of bed. Two cups of coffee later, and my eyelids are still threatening to close.

I spent the better part of Sunday reshooting photos for Etsy. I should pause for a second to explain that I'm obsessed with finding the perfect photo. I probably photographed no more than 10 items yesterday and had 178 photos to sift through at the end. Honestly, there wasn't really anything wrong with the old ones, except that they were better suited for spring rather than autumn. The new shots needed a little cool weather flavor, but I had one major problem. It may be October, but there is no autumn to be found around here. Everything is green, green, green. The maple trees haven't showed the slightest hint of yellow; my favorite ginkos are still a light lime color. The tea olives are blooming in full force, but...well... that doesn't really help me with the fall color issue.

I scrounged around in the attic to find our only fall decorations--glittered pumpkins. A side note: they may look cute, but I spend all of October and November cleaning up a fine, powdery glitter off everything. And can I just tell you what a mess the stuff makes when one of the dogs knocks over the glitter bottle? Back to my dilemma...I also raided the purple sweet potato vine, which is the closest thing to fall color I could find for miles.

Vibrant Atomic Blue Bowl
Old photo (left); new photo (right)

Celebrate Cake - Vintage Upcycled Cake Stand

Old photo (left); new photo (right)

Belles-Lettres, 1945 French-English Dictionary

Old Photo (left); new photo (right)

It turns out that I loved the sweet potato vine. The colors contrasted so nicely with all of the vintage pieces. I probably used them to excess in the shop photos, but...well...beggars for fall color can't be choosers.

I'm not really a big rum drinker...

2009-10-07T11:08:00.000-04:00

...but I COULD be. And it would be just for this bottle.

The website is pretty snazzy, as well.

Oh, mojitos, here I come!

Steampunk Pets

2009-09-29T11:08:00.000-04:00

I love the idea of having a pet bird. They are beautiful creatures, and their chirping is lovely. They are also messy, and that "lovely chirping" would be most unwelcome at 2 a.m. Enter Troy Abbot's new bird cages. Billed as a "digital art structure", these cages each house a little screen with an "actual video bird."

I'm partial to the steampunk stylings of the Yoko cage. I'm afraid I'd have to win the lottery, though. Even, the smaller "Nano" version will run you a cool $3500, so the Yoko must fall into the category of "If you have to ask...". With its lack of price and "Please call for availability," I think I'll stick to appreciating birds in their natural habitat.
via NotCot via Troy Abbott Studios

When in Rome...

2009-09-23T14:01:00.003-04:00

I fell in love with Rome in July, 2008. It wasn't the magnificent art or the charming cat who chased birds in the window across from our hotel. It wasn't even the ancient architecture or our chatty cab driver who refined our Italian pronunciation as he whisked us perilously through the crowded streets. Oh, no.

It was the food.

Which brings me to September, 2009 when I am, sadly, not in Rome. I did, however, score several dozen handmade ravioli this past weekend at the market. The artichoke & goat cheese morsels were taunting me from the moment I bought them.

Since last summer's trip, I have been dreaming of artichoke ravioli. I ordered them in a little trattoria, and I was expecting a very American-style ravioli stuffed with artichokes and other goodness topped with red sauce. What I got was so much unbelievably better. Yes, the ravioli was stuffed with artichokes, but that was overshadowed by the glorious artichoke sauce that covered them. A simple sauce of chopped artichokes with a lovely tang--I'm embarrassed by how much I ate. What I'm sharing with you today, friends, is my attempt to recreate that sauce. You can thank me later.

Start with a little onion and garlic.

Add the chopped artichokes. I used canned artichokes. I had frozen available, and that's what I would have preferred. However, those aren't readily available in my area, and I just couldn't see covering up their beautiful flavor with all the onion and garlic. I do, however, think they would have been preferable to canned.

Add water and a cube of vegetable bouillon. Or use vegetable broth. I just happened to have the bouillon on hand. Throw in a little oregano and salt and pepper to taste. Now, at this point, if you suddenly remember that you made plans to go out for sushi with a friend (ahem), it's fine to put the sauce aside in the refrigerator overnight. It will reheat beautifully, and you can pick up where you left off later.

Throw in a small amount of butter (do as I say, not as I do) and some water to thin the mixture down to sauce consistency.

Roasted vegetables make a tasty side dish.

100% of Australian Shepherds agree that artichoke sauce is yum, yum.

And voila. Now, the color is a little homogenous, but I was trying for an exact re-creation. If I was serving this to other people, I'd probably throw in a sprinkling of chopped parsley for color. And either I've forgotten exactly what that fabulous sauce in Rome tasted like, or this was a darned good copy.

Salsa di carciofi (Artichoke Sauce)

(Makes 4 small, appetizer-sized or 2 large, entree-sized servings)

This sauce would be great with a variety of pastas. You want something fairly sturdy that can hold up to this substantial sauce, though.

2 tbsp olive oil

1 medium onion, chopped

1 tsp chopped garlic

1+ cup water

1 cube vegetable boullion

8 oz. artichokes, canned or frozen (thawed), chopped

1 tsp dried or 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh oregano

2 tbsp butter

salt and pepper to taste

chopped parsley (optional, for garnish)

Heat olive in medium skillet over medium-high heat, stirring frequently. Saute onions until just tender, about 1 minute. Add garlic and cook until the onions are just translucent, about another minute. Add water and crumble bouillon cube over the top. Stir until well-combined. Add chopped artichokes and reduce heat. Simmer 20-30 minutes until onions and artichokes are soft. Add more water if necessary to maintain sauce consistency. Add butter. Stir until melted and well-combined. Remove from heat. Add salt and pepper, and top with chopped parsley, if desired.

Should we talk about the weather?

2009-09-22T14:11:00.001-04:00

Feels like 85°

Partly Cloudy

Humidity 67%

Do you see that?? Feels like 85°. Happy first day of autumn, my fellow southerners!

The sad part is, I went outside during lunch and thought, "Man, it feels pretty good out here!" It's the first day of fall, and yet our weather is so darned un-fall-like. Typically, it starts getting chilly at the end of October, which means, if you're lucky, you can wear your Halloween costume without your face paint melting right off.

Christmas? It's likely cold and rainy and almost as likely that we'll be wearing short-sleaves. Summer? Sweltering, suffocating madness. Fall and spring? Never heard of 'em. And don't get me started on what happens if, God forbid, it snows. It's not pretty, let me tell ya.

Anyway, darlings, I hope you're enjoying your beautiful fall day (because it is, after all, a BEAUTIFUL day). I have a fab dinner in the works for tomorrow night, a football game with my favorite niece planned for Thursday, and I feel sure that, at some point, the universe will create some extra hours in my days to let me get some work done in my shop. Right, universe??

Hello, Etsy!

2009-09-21T10:34:00.001-04:00

Those of you who know me are familiar with my addiction. If there was a 12-step program, I'd surely need to sign up. I'm pretty sure this addiction, though, isn't in the ranks of my love for sugar. No, no--it's a good thing!

One week ago, I started my online shop on Etsy. It's a mélange of vintage and craft (though a little heavy on the vintage right now) and is the culmination of a year's worth of brainstorming.

Now, don't laugh. What really took me a year was the name. I wanted something that reminded me of my southern roots but without any Scarlet O'Hara overdone sappiness. Nothing with the word "belle," and I'm trying to keep my "y'all's" to a minimum. I think the "Sweet Tea" part is self-explanatory. We southerners can have entire conversations that, in all seriousness, revolve around the proper way to prepare tea. The "and Cicadas" part...well...I'm mesmerized by those insects. They look like aliens; they sound like aliens. There is something entirely hypnotizing about their humming, and I love to listen to them in the summer heat.

My items are going up ever-so-slowly because I've been a bit of a perfectionist about the photos. I managed to get one whole sale in the first week, and I'm pretty happy with that. I'm learning a lot about marketing and shipping (which, as an avid eBayer, I didn't think was possible) and making connections. It's fun and a tiny bit stressful, and I'm not sure where I want it to go, ultimately. At this point, I'll be happy to make it to next week!

Take a look around my shop. If you have comments, suggestions, or critiques, then fire away. And none of that Southern polite-to-your-face business. I can take it.

Soft-hearted Sunday

2009-09-20T13:02:00.002-04:00

I have long been a fan of Modest Needs. In case you're not familiar, Modest Needs is a non-profit organization dedicated to providing financial assistance when it's most needed--when someone does not qualify for assistance through traditional sources and before their situation becomes completely catastrophic.

For example, one requestor needing help with rent says the following:

Over a year and a half ago, I lost my job of over nine years. As many have, I struggled to find employment in my past capacity and pay rate. Over that time, I have lost just about everything I owned. I found myself homeless and staying with a brother, and then on a friend's couch. I eventually even lost my only means of transportation. I eventually found employment in a fast food restaurant a mile and a half away from a friend's home.

I walked to and from work daily throughout this past winter, eventually saving enough money to purchase an old truck. It is a 1983 model Ford Bronco and it needs much work. I have the vehicle to the point that it will get me to and from work. I then began saving for a place to call my own in which to live. The stress of living on someone's couch was just too much.

As you can imagine, there are a lot of stories like this. The modest amount this person is requesting? $585. That is what stands between this person and homelessness. And while $585 may seem like a lot to an individual, it becomes pretty easy to scrape together when hundreds of people come together.

Modest Needs puts a very personal spin on what can be a very impersonal experience--donating to a charity. If you want to know exactly where your money is going and who it's benefiting, if you want to hear their stories of success AFTER their request has been funded, then this nonprofit is for you. If you want to have a say in whose requests get funded, then you can do that, too. Their financials are completely transparent, and if you've done any research on charitable organizations, 93.54% is a very high percentage of funding to go directly to program services.

It doesn't take a huge donation to make a gigantic difference. I donate a small amount every month. It's drafted right out of my account, and I hardly notice it missing. Often, matching grants are offered to take your donation even further.

On the flip side, Modest Needs is an amazing resource if you, your friends, or family fall into difficult circumstances. Check out their website and consider a donation. And grab a box of tissues--some of the stories will grip your heart.

Vintage Shopping Road Trip: A How-to

2009-09-19T18:50:00.002-04:00

Step 1: Packing a lunch means more money to buy stuff.

Don't forget the Arnold Palmer to-go.

Step 2: Drive two hours. Listen to Car Talk. Sing along to Zero 7. Try not to pay too much attention to the mile markers. Try to convince yourself you enjoy road trips as an opportunity to meditate.

Step 3: Arrive at alleged "flea market". Quickly realize that this is more "overpriced-antique-store" than "flea-market-with-some-cool-vintage-buys". Leave.

Step 4: Get sidetracked by the farmer's market. Convince yourself that 3 dozen handmade ravioli for $20 is a good deal. After all, 6 entrees at the local snobby restaurant would cost way more. Pear and gorgonzola. Artichoke and goat cheese. Sweet potato, gorgonzola, and walnuts.

PINCH ME!

Step 5: Thank the heavens that some people know better than you where the deals might be found. Head across the bridge in search of happier shopping. Fall madly in love with a chippendale dumbwaiter.

Politely decline owner's offer of a free stuffed monkey.

Concede and finally accept offer of street hockey ball.

Step 6: Get into car and make a beeline for home.

Step 7: Avoid crazy drivers. Listen to The American Life.

Be appalled at the state of the world.

Feel better when you look at the lovely table in the backseat.

Step 8: Arrive home. Listen to dogs' barking and whining. Try to convince them that you love them more than a silly old table.

Hope they don't figure out you're lying.

Celebrate the end of the day with a Bloody Mary. But just one. There's still some ravioli to cook and a football game to watch.

The Baby Shower Conundrum

2009-09-18T12:30:00.004-04:00

I've been in hiding from the web for several days. The reason? I hosted a baby shower on Thursday. I feel a little ambivalent about baby showers. First, I find the overuse of pastels to be a tad bit nauseating. Second, the games. 'Nuff said. Third, sitting around staring at the mother as she opens gifts. There are only so many synonyms for "cute" that one can come up with.

When I offered to host a shower for a co-worker, I knew that many of my fellow employees had the same feelings about showers. It was this in mind that I created the following "guidelines" for shower hosting in my home.

1. Pastels are to be kept to a minimum.

2. Alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages will be served.

3. There must be good music.

4. No games.

5. Present-opening should be done efficiently.

We threw in a fifth guideline by giving it a "green" shower theme. People, next time you endeavor to throw a themed shower where many people are responsible for contributing gifts, food, etc., keep in mind it may not be easy. The varying degrees of "green-ness" amongst our group led to my throwing up my hands by the day before the shower, saying "I don't care what kind of diapers you buy. Just lie and say your food is organic!"

I have to say, it worked out pretty well.

Note: As with many showers these days, there were guys in attendance. I'm pretty sure they had fun.

Eco problem #1: Flowers. Flowers from a florist were definitely not in keeping with our earth-friendly theme (not to mention pricey). They are typically coated with pesticides and grown by workers paid ridiculously low wages. For these and other reasons, I sought an alternative in my own backyard. Yes, there are florists who focus on "greener" arrangements, but I was looking for an inexpensive solution. I raided the twice-blooming azaleas in the front yard, as well as my herb garden. The basil past its prime, culinarily speaking, was a lovely contrast to the fuchsia flowers. Throw in lavender for scent and texture, and we had a winning little bouquet.

Extra basil sprigs found their way into the wall vases. China, silverware, glasses, and cloth napkins meant no plastic was being tossed in the trash, and one dishwasher load took care of the mess.

Homemade cupcakes means no mystery-ingredient bakery cakes.

(Confession: Someone brought one of those sheet cakes. I love them. LOVE them. It was tasty.) The cake plate was made with a repurposed piece of china and a vase. Too cute!

Vintage doilies in non-pastel shades made an original banner. And since they're of durable fibers, they can be used over and over again.

I actually found a wealth of baby shower information online. Granted, most of it was geared towards the game-playing pastel variety, but there are plenty of great ideas out there that will allow all of your guests to enjoy themselves, not just the mommies and the mommies-to-be. The most important thing to keep in mind is that, even though you're celebrating an upcoming birth, it's still a party. Yes, everyone won't know everyone else. Not a problem. How many parties have you been to where you didn't know everyone? Good food, good drinks, and good music usually make for happy party-goers. The formula shouldn't change just because you're calling it a "shower."

Backyard Staycation

2009-09-14T21:21:00.010-04:00

I'm not sure you can count it as a "staycation" if I've had several, bona fide vacations this year. Nevertheless, Congaree National Park blew me away several weekends ago. And to the park ranger who greeted us at the visitor's center, I'm so sorry. You've been 30 minutes away since becoming the youngest national park in 2003, and it took me six years to actually visit. Mea culpa. It was BEAUTIFUL!

Heaven can't be this lovely.

Unless someone has an explanation, this may just have to remain a mystery. It's a group of caterpillars, I guess. I find it simultaneously fascinating and repulsive.

Cypress roots (or "gnome houses," as I like to think of them).

If you're very quiet, you just might get a visit from the local wildlife.

Personally, we were cackling like a bunch of hens.

I think this rabbit was deaf.

Let's be clear: I'm not an "outdoorsy" sort of person. Congaree can be as active or leisurely as you make it. We opted for the boardwalk trail, but I plan to bring my pack of wild dogs with me sometime soon to use the regular hiking trails. The weather was perfect during our outing, so we encountered other "hikers" fairly frequently. No worries-- everyone seems to be unfailingly polite (aka. Southern 101). So put on your walking shoes and grab a camera and the kids.

It's an afternoon well-spent (and did I mention it's FREEEEEE???).

A Letter

2009-09-13T22:36:00.001-04:00

Dear South Carolina,
You and I need to talk. You, with your Joe Wilsons and your hurricanes and your obesity rates, are slightly mortifying. You are my birth place and my home, and I know that there are so many wonderful things to be found here. You are sweet tea and summery Marches. You are the softest, sandiest beaches I've yet to find anywhere else. You are amazing plant life and the hypnotizing sounds of cicadas, and--oh--your food!

But let's face it: You and I have had a love/hate relationship from the get-go. The mosquitoes? Give me a break! The governor?? Lawsie mercy. You and I both know all you have going on, but the bad is just so dang LOUD.

So, I've made a decision. Carolina, I'm here to save you from yourself. I'm tired of seeing our bad behavior show up in the headlines at cnn.com. I'm ready to read something else for a change...

Sincerely,
Your daughter