the best

I am Thanksgiving's #1 Fan. Its the simplicity of the holiday that is so attractive. It celebrates three things; our country's beginnings, food and togetherness. Thats it. There's nothing else clogging it up with superficiality. Uncomplicated, humble and pure.

getting bare

Holed up on the East end of Belmont is a non-descript auspice of unruffled food-fare, paying no attention to the culinary snobbery that pervades the Portland land mine of restaurants and food carts.

Bare Bones chooses not to abide by the norms of Portland-lore in the manner of pretension. For starters the rectangle box of a shop-billows top music hits- blatantly non-conforming to the understood rule that in this bridge city to claim your spot as a notable eatery or quote- unquote "hip hang out' is to have the most art laden tunes reverberating the trusses- in an effort to prove how with it they are. Here at "bones" all that hipster bullshit is thrown out the window. MJ- is cool with everyone here- and Lady Gaga- hell yes!

The food is just slightly pared down from any stuffy brunch spot that has been determined fabulous by the likes of Willamette Weekly or the Food section of the Oregonian. The prices match the atmosphere-understated, a little gritty and happily undone. The pint mimosas are an unbeatable understanding of everything right with Sunday. The staff are warm and friendly and are neither too much or too little.

Bare Bones

2900 SE Belmont Street

Portland, OR 97214

503-206-6535

http://www.barebonescafe.net/

finally finding peace

Peace may have found me or maybe I found it. Finding refuge in lit candles, a lulling fire, staying home. Respite in not knowing what God is but not wanting to give it up. Hope in the future ahead. Comfort in putting my head down and moving toward my desires. A schedule. A plan. A glass of wine in a solo happy hour event inside my chateau. The blazing rows of blueberry plants. The autumn leaf filled air. The familiarity of the season, the patience it encourages and the nostalgia it stirs up. I welcome it. I praise it.

my love affair with the end of the world

Astoria, Oregon is hands down one of my most favorite places on earth. There is something about this funky little town that got under my skin years ago, and like a long love- I've never been able to rid it. In fact the romance may have intensified. If Astoria were a smell it would be a combination of earthy patchouli and cigars with a hint of victorian vanilla. Once that sweet blend of gritty masculinity and lacy femme- enter your nostrils forever it stays.

The town of Astoria abounds with delicious food. Seafood is abundantly available being at the end of the world- as the mouth of the Columbia runs head-on into the foreboding Pacific. My favorite food haunt of all the world is the Columbian Cafe. In true Astoria form it is anything but all done up. It refuses to dress up- and keeps its business true to delivering the best food I've ever consumed- rather than beautifying itself. I have managed to take my grips off my beloved hole in the wall and have ventured out to other food establishments- and have been blown away. Clementes is a new favorite on the CG list. The fish they serve is of top notch quality and is unbelievably fresh (aka the owners family is the fisherman!). I love their corner spot with floor to ceiling windows- that let patrons take in the comings and goings and the loveliness of the Liberty Theatre across the street.

The community is like none other. There's an unspoken code here- "get involved or leave". Its a community with a past of hard working people and that sentiment has bled over into the current state of mind. The arts both music and fine- are supported by the inhabitants better than anywhere I've encountered.

Living at the end of the world has benefits- amazing food, an arts culture off the hitches and a community that is fiercely supportive. Pretty dang worth it I gather.

independent spirit

As the upcoming red, white and blue holiday is nearing-I can't help but get filled with nostalgia and pride. I enjoy all of the holidays- but the Fourth of July is especially sacred to me. My family has been gathering in the same place for almost a hundred years to commemorate not only the birth of our country but also the existence of the patriarchal side of my family. We were blessed with having a woman in our family that possessed an abnormal wealth of fortitude. My great-great grandmother decided over a hundred years ago to homestead on the bank of a small inlet on the Puget Sound. As time passed on, so did the property- being placed in the hands of each subsequent generation. I grew up spending a tremendous amount of time lapping up the paradise of Vaughn Bay-I have realized that it is such a piece of me-this land is in my bones. The smells and the feeling that envelopes me when I am there is like no other. I get sad every time I have to leave and get back to the persistence of life that extends past the retreat of the Key Peninsula.

Our country is not perfect- just as people are good but not without a few blemishes, you can not be alive without making a few mistakes- it is a country that I am fiercely proud to be a citizen of. Our United States was created on firm principles no other country has dared declare or demand-that being free is a right every human is entitled to. In its pursuit for stretching its borders and influence the government encouraged its citizens to head west. The efforts of these brave people were rewarded by the gift of property. Another brilliant move by the country of stars and stripes-instantaneously its people were overwhelmed with loyalty, a sense of pride for not only its generous country but also for a land- that was now theirs. It is a land of the proud and of the free. I know this all so well- I bubble over with immense happiness of the land that my family has been blessed with. If it were not for the vision of a young and determined country and the brilliance and grit of a smart woman- we would be Vaughnless. This dirt is in me-its mine-and this country is mine- and its yours.

hail to the chief

My Pops was never particularly known for his culinary attributes- his domain is on the other end of the band-saw or sander. All the while he has always attempted to keep a few main-stay and go-to recipes in his tool belt for the now and again get together.

Being that his prowess is not in the kitchen- there have been comical events transpired with him at the helm of that particular mast. One of these particular mishaps is of constant reminiscing with me and the rest of my brood of sibs. I was around 10 years old at this time- I'm the oldest so that means there were four more youngsters running around cascading down in age from me- and my Dad was trying to play the part of Mr. Mom- while our Mom was getting her Masters Degree. That meant a lot of evenings where he tried his wiles at the range-the oven range that is. The most memorable dish that was bore out of these evenings was- "porcupine meatballs"-which are meatballs made with rice as part of the filling. The recipe did not mention that the rice needed to be cooked first-and being a novice cook- he didn't think to cook the rice first. I can still see all of us five kids and our Dad gathered around the oak table and chairs that he made for our dining room crunching through those hunks of ground meat- baring our sheepish eyes to meet our Dad's to scan if he was having the same crunchy experience. At that time he did not admit defeat- and we all had to continue eating our meal. Shortly thereafter it got put into the rounder file of funny stories. We often revisit it for ol' times sake and a darn good laugh.

I tip my hat to my Dad- the Dad who despite not enjoying cooking amidst a very busy life- valued our time as a family that he gave up his own comforts and potential ridicule so we could all gather around the dinner table and grow; grow into the thing he loves most-

his family.

i do declare!

I recently encountered what I do declare as to be the best food moment of my life. This past Memorial Day Weekend while spending time at what I refer to as Paradise- but to others known as Vaughn Bay (my great-great-grandmother had the fortitude to homestead on the water and pass down her property to generations following her- brilliant woman I tell you!!)--I was blessed with the most delicious moment. My friend and his youngsters bounded down to the rocky beach and combed its soil for its crop of shelled delicacies. They successfully bounded up to the grassy bank that extends a thumb of a finger into the water and holds a fire pit that encourages the view as well as conversation. The oysters (Pacific Blues) were distributed evenly amongst the hot coals glowing in the masonry and earthen round. My friend attended to the oysters and maintained their progression- as the oysters succumbed to the heat their shells popped open. Then they were swooped up by a leather adorned hand and then cracked further- and the beautiful white meat was exposed and extracted from the shell and plopped on the plate of anxious comrades around the circle. They were then doused with the taste of choice- simply lemon juice and kosher salt or cocktail sauce. Bottles of champagne were opened and were sipped while noshing on the clean and salty loveliness of the bounty of the bay. The sun was just beginning to crest behind the Olympic Mountains- and was extending its rays to our bank. We all lingered in the beauty of the moment- exquisite food, delightful company, and the sun shining. Everything was right- and it will stand in my memory for all time.

a fish tale

There once was a little salmon making its way up the Columbia River minding its own business. This salmon being of the savvy variety was completely aware of its worth and value, and knew that its life was of a greater calling. This salmon being the contemplative type and understanding that the world existed beyond his watery borders, was engrossed in thought as he was motoring on through the currents of the confluence. Then just as he was considering his greater calling, he felt a tug on his lower lip. Damn! -It was indeed the snag he had been anticipating-but he honestly was feeling it was coming a little sooner than he was hoping. Again being a fish with an uncanny sense of himself and his purpose- resigned himself to the hook and resisted only a little- just for special effect. Then he allowed himself to be reeled in. Doing what good looking fish do- he flounced his shiny body all around the bottom of the boat- he knew he was showing off a bit- but what the heck he thought- its one last go, the last of his eminent fading glory. So he through his spine back and gave it a couple more bursts of flailing energy-drew two more breaths and thanked the universe for his great life and commenced his life.

The salmon was picked up by the beautiful young woman that had so craftily baited her line, and had cast it in the shining waters of the river. The young lady possessing the ability to keep up with the boys in the outdoor type of activities all the while maintaining her femininity firmly took hold of the fish and gut it just as a good patron of the river does- and returned the salmon's insides to the waters that bore him. She then respectfully placed her catch on the ice inside the cooler that she had prepared -being of confident mind, she knew she would be successful that day in bringing home a catch. She started back toward the shore with satisfaction. The young lady having countenance that resounds her name sake- decided to share her bounty. So upon returning to the river bank- she called up her cousin and they planned to have dinner the following evening sharing the blessing of the catch of the day. The following evening they gathered round a square table, in a cottage on a hill lined with blueberries- with the beauty of the earth shimmering around them, and the warmth of a hand crafted meal in front of them, and the love of friends and family encircling the feast. Here the salmon's calling was met- his existence brought four people together- three of them cousins, to dine and engage in a way they had not yet experienced. A magical moment transpired.

A fish is not a fish alone- a meal not just a meal. Beauty happens every day by what appears to be a small encounter.

reckoning ourselves

How do we get to a place where we are truly happy with ourselves physically? One step further into this actually begs the question how do we become truly happy.. because I believe that ones physicality has huge impact on how one conducts and carries themselves. I have visited this a couple of times in my writings of exploratory topics-but its one that is as persistent as our quest for food. Its the one that stares directly into the eyes of my obsession with food-and I know that I am not alone in this.

Is this the time to expose my demons- do they have any value to others? I'm not sure- but I'm going to provide an exorcism in any event- you be the judge of its worth. Oh yep-I was another one of those dime a dozen anorexic girls. You've heard the story a million times....I never starved myself entirely- but I had the most rigid of diets- consisting mostly of coffee, apples and bagels. I exercised hard to counteract that whopping 20 grams of fat I'd intake in a day, leaving my body with only the basics of subsistence. My sister God bless her- would watch me as I literally broke down into crying fits at the agony of being presented with a meal out of my "controlled diet" regime. It was sheer torture-the thought of breaking into that controlled situation I had created would take me to the floor writhing. In those times the fear was so strong on my face-I would imagine watching it unfold would be like watching a person that is certifiably schizophrenic start to carry on a conversation with one of their personalities. In those moments the other person watching feels like they are observing a train wreck that they have no idea how to switch the rails on. For some people these issues are brought to surface by the influence of some other event or issue. For me it was just that I really liked how I looked when I was that thin- there were no other issues, aside from the usual American bout of obesity somewhere in your lineage freaking you out that you may become that someday. Once I got into that very extreme reality I had made completely on my own-I did not want to break it. The mere thought of it had me so uncanny-I really should have been in a mental facility. The control of it is mind altering. Some of us are more prone to obsessive and compulsive behavior then others- its in my makeup. Just like some people have other mental hang-ups.

So the issue here is how as adults when we know better-how do we reckon with ourselves? Now one huge caveat- I do not hold the answers not even close, nor am I really probably the best person to even speak to the issue- because I wrestle with this everyday. But that's exactly the point. Food issues are body issues. If you have these hangups they are with you FOREVER. There is no such thing as careless eating. Every item you consume is filed in a catalogue ready

for you to analyze and scrutinize later- and maybe even hold against yourself. So the key I believe is getting to a point where we can see food as nourishment, fuel, and something to

enjoy with revelry. Just like gun handlers have the deepest respect for their arms, we must also respect food in the same way. It is gorgeous, it is to be enjoyed, and it can not be denied what the scary reality is on the other side of the barrel. Its the avoidance of its power that causes the greatest harm. Get familiar with food- love it. Love yourself. Take care of you-don't deny yourself anything. When we see food as the enemy- we think we have to limit our exposure to it- which in turn only creates a hatred for the thing that in essence is supposed to provide nourishment at the most basic of levels. And then there starts the pendulum of ups and downs-love, hate, love, hate. When this respect is in tact- the ups and downs start to ebb away. Your mind starts to realize that nothing is off limits-and therefore the need to over compensate when posed with something normally considered taboo becomes less.

Some people I do believe never have had to deal with this constant monitoring. That's simply just not my reality. Don't worry those of you that think those people are lucky-they have their issues-and they're just as disgusting as yours-and these people are looking at you thinking

you've got it all together- and its my sincerest wish that I hope you do.

the key to friendship...

Many of my friendships have been encouraged over the course of many meals together, bread broken and drinks sipped so it seems that this is an appropriate topic to delve into. Friendship being the persistent feature in the headline of my mind. I can't seem to get the words of a very close friend of mine out of my head. To me they are profound and offered up insight into a topic that everyone is subject to.

My dear friend was sharing with me that she had just encountered an interesting situation with a couple of people that were putting some wrenches into their relationship and undermining the integrity of their friendship. Essentially they were being caddy and petty. My dear friend

in her infinite wisdom blew them away with her blatant and no frills honesty- and said "I don't need this".."I have great friends- and I don't have to work for it." I left with these words and concepts penetrating my heart and mind. I started doing a mental check on all of my friendships and relationships that I consider the "gold standard" and realized a common thread- the relationships are easy. They take no effort to give to- and the bounty received is equal. Its a constant ebb and flow of sharing, encouragement and uplifting. They are a safe haven where you are taken just as you are. There is time spent to cultivate these friendships but the true test is that it is effortless- you don't even think about what you're doing because its so natural. The benefit to this quality of friendship is that it is stress free. They just work.

If you have any relationships that you feel are a bit dysfunctional in your life maybe start eliminating them or giving less effort to the relationships that require so much of you. From personal experience I can attest you will be fuller and able to give even more. The results and experiences are endless- and these are the friendships of a lifetime.

something's on the brain

My mind is under a heavy influence of spring fever. For Pacific Northwesterners this year in particular the rain has taken its toll- and it continues to persist- the weather only bleeping from the rainy dogma with a sunny respite here and again, giving us nothing to bank on. Yet wait! There is a sign that spring and yes maybe I can say summer- is on the horizon! My body has been craving the foods of spring, things like lemons, asparagus, eggs, and.......rhubarb! Which on an aside and slight detour- listen to these cravings they are a primal instinct that our bodies were blessed with. Its the way that our body awakens us to each season-listen!Yes folks- rhubarb is growing in a sunny spot near you! I have been on a rampage of rhubarb concocted everything. Nothing tastes more like spring than this weird weed looking thing. This tart and sassy fruit will give you a kick in your mouth and awaken your body to recognize that sunnier days are ahead- and lets face it-thats a promise we can all be thankful regardless of circumstance or position. Im not particularly qualified to give out medical advice- but I have served a heavy dose of remedies through philosophy pertaining to food. All the same you can take it on authority from the resident CG that a few doses of this delightful and primitive stalk from the earth will change and lighten your perspective.

**CG suggestions for rhubarb: compote, muffins, pie, tart, crepes, pair compote with roast chicken/turkey or pork tenderloin, the possibilities are endless!!!

**AND A NEW USE JUST DISCOVERED (as seen in picture): toast with chunky peanut butter, honey and rhubarb compote....beyond delicious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am over the moon about this epicurean manifestation!

place , place- whats in a place

Over the course of this past year I was on an exploratory mission commissioned by myself- to determine my calling. The mission was daunting but was expressly understood that once
accomplished would furnish the most compelling results. I ventured out into the wilderness of no schedule, no 8-5, nothing but the expanse of life and the world in front of me.I had no map, and the arrow in my compass seemed to be spinning round andround. So I walked in circles- I looked under rocks and marked trees with a bit of flagging taken from my fabric. I meandered down promising paths and took in the gorgeousness that a new view afforded. As soon as the newness faded, I would pursue another trail and be mesmerized and in awe once again. When dark came- it enveloped me in dis pair- leaving me questioning if the sun really would come up to furnish me with light and provide the clarity I needed to make the trek. Then as it always does- it rose with brightness that yielded a surge of energy to keep me moving. The terrain at times was steep and it hurt to climb. Sometimes it was rocky and I would fall and I questioned my strength to get up. Then I would pull in deep- and climb my way out. The questioning of myself did not subside and persisted with every step that yielded no blatant results. In an effort to uphold my commission I kept moving. I had a good time along this journey- offering up my own comic relief. I would roll on the ground in a laughing hysteria at the image of me tromping through the muck and tumbling down hills-dirtying my designer gear. Then as profound as the simplest of things are- I realized that my worn path was circling around the same place. In the circle was a clearing. I decided to veer from the path I had treaded and walked inside to see more of what the clearing offered. As I walked farther in I got a supreme case of deja-vu. One step closer and waves of calm and peace cascaded over me like a waterfall. This place that I stumbled upon -was home.

The journey I took was of value. Had I not wandered along the outside- I could not have seen the clearing. For me- the source of my quest was what begged me to heed. Home is the launch point- my springboard. I found that by splitting myself in two and exposing my heart was where I found peace and understanding of what and where I needed to be. For me it was the exposure of looking inward rather than out. Start with you- it is the place.

"a"-game

I am a genuine enthusiast for excess- being a proper American and all. Balance has always been a hard objective for me to achieve. I know I'm not alone here. My behavior is compulsive, its obsessive and at times borderline neurotic. So goes my love and relationship with food and body. I would be lying if I said I have mastered that delicate relationship. I have skeletons hanging in my closet that expose themselves from time to time.

Some people are born with a clearer understanding of how to navigate balance. I am always a little envious of those people. I have a dear friend that I am constantly in awe of her gentle glide through life- approaching everything with modesty and grace. However, long ago I realized this works for her- it doesn't work for me. My philosophy of life and petal to the metal attitude- has created who I am. So now I have an appreciation for the people that I will never be- and rightfully so.

I try to find balance in what works for me. Its taken a while to get to that point. Recently I have been a bit excessive in consumption-and I haven't burned as much off as normal- and now I'm feeling the effects. In an effort to get back to where I feel my best- I'm taking bit of a break from my indulgent self- and pairing back..doing a little detox to jump start the bod. This consists of a detox tea- (Republic of Tea- "Get Clean" is awesome), Odwalla Superfood, and homemade smoothies, and a lot of water, through the day and a normal meal in the evening (oh and I never leave coffee out!) Coupled with some good intense workouts. This is one of the ways I get back to my center.

I was jogging this afternoon with a friend and he was mentioning that he always knows how to reach down and get to his "A-game". His reference was in regard to his physical ability for training and competing. The comment got me thinking about my current efforts in getting back to my a-game. I encourage that if you don't know where you feel the best body and mind- start listening to what your body is convincing you of. Once you know how you feel optimally you will always know how to get back there, maintaining that balance all the more. The swinging back and forth will lessen and becomes much more manageable. We only get to go a 'round once on this gorgeous earth- so live vibrantly, live beautifully, live strongly. Be the master of you.

I highly encourage anyone regardless of the title to read "French Women Don't Get Fat" by Mireille Guiliano if you haven't already. The philosophy in it is so amazing. This book literally changed my whole perspective on food and body.

Regardless of how you feel- NEVER EVER- self deprecate. A barrage of insults of yourself are far more unattractive than the way you look. Confidence is your most gorgeous attribute. Evaluate and change. Move toward your goal- and love yourself every step of the way.

an appetite.....what a horrible thing to waste

A ravenous appetite is I do dare say one of the sexiest qualities a person may have. It concludes a far lot about a person than just the rumble in ones belly. A healthy appetite is a characteristic of a person that is determined to charge the world and make a mark. An appetite proves a general insatiable wonder for the world. Confidence abounds in the person not faint of appetite- being comfortable with ones self to ask for seconds- and get lost in the enjoyment a lovely meal can provide- and revels in the opportunity to edge slightly into glutinous satisfaction.

Indulgence is a beautiful thing. Life is too short to only celebrate now and again.

Eat like you mean it!

open...

My discovery is not a new find for locals in the Emerald City, but for me it is revolutionary. I have stumbled across the best Thai food ever- no no not the best Thai food in Seattle- but again- EVER. Thai Tom is a beacon on University Ave- in the center of an overabundance of food court quality storefronts fanning every side of the street accommodating the budgets of the predominant demographic of young 20-somethings. Thai Tom is different from the start. The warm glow of the neon lit open sign and the constant hover of patrons awaiting their turn for a seat billowing out the door, are its most recognizable street side features. Once inside you will be ushered to sit in the shoebox of a dining area by the friendly and industrious staff. The seating arrangements are one wall of stacked tables on the south wall followed by what I consider the box seats of the venue at the bar- providing excellent entertainment. The staff keeps this amazing cadence that I have yet to ever bear witness. Every person has a distinct role in maintaining the efficiency of the operation. Amazingly no one that works at Thai Tom manages to cross the lines of responsibility- keeping the order in tact. At the helm a gorgeous display of rhythm is conducted by the cook- who is on display for all to observe. Every space of the grill is maximized- a shallow wok pan on every burner. As soon as a pan is used it is immediately retrieved by the right-hand attendant- and soon replaced by a clean pan to be filled with vegetables and sauces- that are created right before your eyes. In addition to the smells wafting through the air are the tunes pumping through the air- with familiar tunes from classic rock heroes being the like of Eric Clapton, the Eagles and Mr. Bob Marley. Just as reticent as any other position is the person in charge of maintaining the quality of music quietly acting as DJ for the audience present. In addition to their post at Thai Tom, several of the guys that keep the eatery running smoothly are also in a band adequately named Thai Sons. The repertoire of the band heralds their favorite musicians covering the likes of Clapton and other rock legends. Due to the incredulously small space, Thai Tom can not accommodate performances so the band regularly performs the first Monday at the month at Scarlett Tree off of 65^th and Roosevelt.

The most indicative trait of an establishment worthy of esteem is the quality of the person in charge. George-proprietor of Thai Tom (and drummer of Thai Sons)- in suit with other musicians I only know him by a singular name- is the epitome of an exceptional host. The appreciation for his customers is explicitly genuine and masterfully expressed. Slight in stature and frame are paradox to the largeness of his heart and exuding passion. All of the dishes listed on the fancifully rustic wooden menus are the creation of George himself. As a native of Thailand- he has brought us the flavors of his homeland with the style of a true artist and the graciousness of a Southern gentleman. You can not go wrong with anything here. Any selection will wow and have you craving more. In just one weeks time I have sat at George’s bar thrice times- and still it is not enough. If it weren’t for other obligations and my deep seeded satisfaction with cooking myself I would be dining with George and his enclave every night. This destination is more than open its happening.

what's not to love?

I am a destination type person. I am not particularly willing to go out on a jog or engage in something physically exhilarating for the journey alone. I am motivated by what is awaiting me at the end and almost always this involves at the minimum coffee. Currently I am basking in my annual trip to Park City, Utah to enjoy the company of friends and take in the infamous Sundance Film Festival. One of the many things I hands down adore about this city is its extensive trail system. The system meanders through fields all the way from Park City to Salt Lake- its amazing. The trails serve walkers, joggers and cross country skiers alike. I am a cross country ski fan so I packed mine this year; along with a tremendously huge suitcase- leaving my hosts wondering if I am ever going to go home; with the intention of working off a bit of that pan dulce I brought back with me from Mexico! Since arriving I have several times slapped on my skis and voyaged out on the snowy white ocean of snow. The trail of my liking is part of the Snyderville Basin recreation district. The luxury and allure of this particular stint of the trail is that it meanders directly behind my hosts' house and takes you past one of the famous white barns dotted along Highway 224 and drops you right into Redstone- the yuppy little retail center where there is a Whole Foods, several restaurants and a coffee roaster. So my daily excursion takes me to my favorite destination point- coffee and pastry. Gotta love it!

1st Quarter Ice Cream Report Card

The people closest to me know there is nothing that gets between me and my ice cream. This simple dessert is a staple in my diet. I'm not a one flavor girl- I am always tempting new delights in the frozen custard isle, shop and in my own kitchen. Recently I took home two new tries of Haggen Dazs (I also brought home one-tried and true-java chip)- I of course unveiled each one promptly and took a spoon to them. I am here to say- Rum Raisin is awesome. So sad- I have been missing out on it for so many years. It always seemed like such a matured and old person kind of ice cream- what with the hint of liquor and dried fruit- but I gotta tell you throw that notion away if you ever have shared it with me. The truth is this flavor is sophisticated- but not stuffy. The other flavor I perused is Amaretto Almond Crunch- not as good as my other new find- but good. It had too much crunchy sugary crystals in it for this CG.

To sum up: Haggen Dazs Rum Rasin: A+

Haggen Dazs Amaretto Almond Crunch-B

ummm....excuse me miss

Gone are the days of willy nilly travel.

A couple of nut-jobs saw to that, trumping spontaneity-all because they could not let peace and innocence alone. The new security precautions in our airports 'round the world produce not only some of the most interesting people watching but from time to time also advance surprising comic relief. Did you know that you can not board a plane with a tortilla press? I didn't. In an effort to reduce the weight of my checked bag on my return home from our friend to the South- I unloaded my precious industrial tool into my carry-on bag not thinking much of it. While attempting to get through the security clearance it was seized from my belongings- and separated from the destiny it was to have with me. In one clean swoop our dream of sharing the tenderness of creating the earthen-hearty and warm masa discs-was shattered. Apparently, a tortilla press has some kind of weapon capability that I was completely unaware of. I was such a naive suspect- attempting to carry that contraband into my mother land. Well without too much resistance I parted ways with my metal ally.

Once inside the border of my home country, I went through standard border control inspection and declarations. Upon admitting that I had a stow-away sandwich in my purse I was immediately whisked to Aisle 1 in the Dallas, Texas airport. The criminal substance I was was concealing between two slices of bread was the meat so many people love to hate-ham- or jamon (the proper name from the country of origin). It is the protein that several religions have deemed un-pure. Now our country- the gorgeous U.S.A. has formed an alliance against "the other white meat" - being of the foreign persuasion. We are now a prejudiced pork loving country. Again- who knew? This all comes about, because as I was informed the U.S. has been spared from three particular diseases that the rest of the world is subject to. Foreign pork seems to be the carrier of at least one of these diseases, and so the U.S. Pork Association maintains its standards in U.S. bred pork by not allowing migrant pork into the country- at least via a life raft of carbs.

make it two- and take heed

Moments ago I discovered yet another doll in the Rosca.....this means two things- One I am to host another party (now it is mandated that I issue two- with my finding of the two little alien plastic white figures I have discovered buried within the layers of feathery bread) and Two- I am consuming a humorously lot of pan dulce (sweet bread)!!

With the envelope of another year just being opened- and it already evident how people are eager to jump inside it- and shed all of their perceived transgressions against their body- it provokes me to share a burning sentiment I hold very close to my heart. I have a philosophy in regard to food and one you can stitch into your shirt and apply to all facets of life. Do not deny yourself things you enjoy....it is a sure fire way to fall flat on your face. Deprivation to oneself is down right absurd. Of course you have to always reckon if your indulgence is physically or morally abrasive to you and your character. This in check- you are only doing damage to yourself. A healthy sense of self-pampering is the best way to assure self-confidence and in turn be able to give of yourself better. Once you allow yourself the freedom to enjoy- you are sure to find you will need less of whatever you are desiring. Guilt produces the most disgusting of recourse. Be free.

Understand that my strong feelings on this subject have not come with an innate understanding of the matter. I constantly battle my own demons on this front- and are ones I will constantly have to fight to be the champion of. It is the sum of my own experiences that I can defend my thoughts with this quantity of passion and righteousness.

Food is the window in which so many observations can be made- that billow away from the true subject- the nourishment that one puts into their mouth and consequently ones body- and manifests itself dawning light on the kind of people we truly are, our habits, our temperament and our view of the world and the people in it.