three years

Two celebration posts in a row!

I celebrated my three year anniversary with Steve on November 6th. You can see where it all began- I wrote about the food, just none of the making out (just kidding mom!)- in this post.

Since our anniversary celebrations have really stretched out over a several week period, I’ll chronicle them as best I can, with the understanding that I’ve been a super slacker on the photography hunt.

In roughly chronological order:

The North Carolina State Fair. Also known as the first time I ate these:

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Fried oreos. On the suggestion of the Midwesterner. I spent the rest of the fair laughing at feisty goats and flaunting my awesome new cowboy boots.

Saxapahaw. A town in North Carolina whose name is just so fun to pronounce. We saw some rockin’ live music and Steve got some rockin’ bratwursts.

Halloween. Here is a picture of Steve and I:

 
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Our friends’ costumes included:
- Bats! Wings made out of old umbrellas. In the manner of Martha Stewart
- A pinata and a blindfolded guy holding a stick (couples costume!)
- Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood (not a couples’ costume per se, but thematically close)
- A cat, with a monkey (mother/child costume)
- A hipster (a lazy costume)

And here is what we ate (not including candy, OBVI):

When Steve makes chili, he usually does chili and cheese in a 1:1 ratio.. It was delicious.

The anniversary date (November 6th) itself.

We saw this band!

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Also known as Metric! We listened to them a lot when we were falling in luuuurve. They played “our” song last, acoustic. I cried like a little sissy baby. Shut up no I didn’t.

Here is a nice meal I made and enjoyed with Steve. Lots of farm fresh bounty, via either the CSA or the market.

 

The chicken I’d gotten at the farmer’s market from a vendor who I’ll likely NOT patronize again- I really prefer that my chickens not have feathers still in them… eeeurgh. I’d roasted it, then peeled off the skin (fortunately removing said feathers in the process). Then I threw together a not at all formal barbecue sauce that included vinegar, mustard, mango chutney, ketchup, soy sauce… random stuff like that. Go figure, Steve said it was like The Best Thing I’d Ever Made (which he does say about once a week but is still nice).

Also roasted some nice CSA purple potatoes with just olive oil, salt and pepper, and the last of a jar of salsa; underneath the chicken for a little shmaltz.

  

And simple salad with vinaigrette. As I recall, I threw some chutney in there too. Farm fresh arugula is DELICIOUS but also like DOUBLE STRENGTH of the wimpy stuff from the store, so I like incorporating a little sweetness into my dressing for balance when working with such assertive greens.

 

When I started making this meal, I did not yet know that Steve was coming for dinner. That is why it is so small! Fortunately, he and I had started making each of our own independent dinners before remembering that we were in luuuuuurve and wanted to eat lots of meals together. So he brought fried rice. It made for a well-rounded, colorful plate.

  

I’d also made some use-up-the-yogurt-lingering-in-the-back-of-the-fridge muffins. I’d snacked on an embarrassing number of them in the afternoon, and I gladly let Steve dispatch the rest for dinner.

So the next few days more fun was had.

Chiefly, seeing this guy:

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GAHHHH sweet holy heaven this man is hilarious. You knew this. But being in the same room as him while he is being hilarious is a particularly fantastic experience.

Finally, a random breakfast Steve made me. Because of the many things I love about Steve, his breakfast making technique ranks high. A lack of fear of butter plays a prominent role in this technique.

Here we have gently scrambled eggs and spinach with some homemade parmesan-roasted chips. Excellent mixed all together, with a good coating of hot sauce. Which, incidentally, is how Steve eats many things.

 

summer dinners with a boy

My boyfriend was off climbing mountains in Colorado, and now he’s livin’ it up in chicago. I’m v. jealous (by which I’m v. sad I’m busy taking Biochemistry and couldn’t tag along) and also missing him just a bit.

So, I thought I’d recap some of the culinary fun we’ve been up to of late. Eating meals with Steve is really great, because instead of hemming and hawing about what to order, worrying whether there’ll be too much food, and so on; or when at home instead of limiting meal plans to one or two items; I have the thoroughly impressive appetite of Steve at my disposal. There can be enormous piles of food on the table and it matters not. All will be eaten and savored.

Steve’s second to last day in town we decided to have ourselves a proper date. First we took a looooooooooong walk along my favorite trail, stopping along the way to pick lotsa raspberries (the insane amount of raspberries appearing here in Virginia will definitely get their own post). On the outset of our walk, the sun shone brightly in the sky, but then ominous clouds began lurking across the horizon. Suffice it to say that we ended up sooooooooooaked to the skin. Drenched! Drowned rat looking!

However, as abruptly as the rain had begun, it ended, and we made our way back into the town of Vienna, where we’d parked, to have a nice early dinner. The sun semi-dried us along the way, and we also simply wrung water out of our clothes as we could.

We ended up at Alegria, which turned out to be an AMAZING Mexican restaurant. The area where I live is wonderfully diverse. If you fancy Korean barbecue, Peruvian chicken, or Vietnamese pho, you’re set. However, for whatever reason, likely having to do with immigration trends, Mexican restaurants are woefully lacking. This is a wonderful exception to that.

Loved the menu:

 

Loved the look of the space- dramatic arches, vaguely industrial looking yet beautiful light fixtures, neat paintings and ornaments hanging about. Pretty flowery whatsits. Bricks with character.

The open kitchen made for an entertaining view as we waited for our meals to be served.

I think the caliber of a Mexican restaurant can often be determined simply by tasting its salsa. (Though Taco Bell does have that delicious fire sauce…)

Both of these salsas were SPLENDID. The green (verde) one had clearly been prepared using fresh tomatillos and burst with favor. Not too spicy, just really fresh! The one on the right had that slow-cooked, intensely flavorful chipotle fabulousness. Heavenly. And of course the chips were freshly fried.

 

Alegria has a happy hour with not extraordinary deals but at least interesting options. Depending on the day of the week, you can get various flavors of margaritas (the day we went the option was tamarindo, and though for one semester of college I had a Mexican roommate and tried to sample the tamarindo candy she brought from home with gusto, I think it’s one of those flavors upon which you have to be raised to truly appreciate it). You can also get a food special each day, and this particular day there were taquitos. The boyfriend was right on that.

 

I only had a taste because I just didn’t feel like eating anything fried (fairly shocking for me; perhaps the endless procession of deep-fried awesome in New Orleans finally satiated that urge for a bit?) but anyway, they were delicious. An impressive quantity of shredded, flavorful beef and wonderful crema atop.

Then it was time to go to TACO TOOOOOOOOOOOWN! (That video pretty much sums up my boyfriend. When together, we quote it at least once a day.)

I was SO pleased with my order. You get three tacos for $12, which is a pretty good deal if you consider the caliber and size of these tacos. And of course the overall classiness of the restaurant :)

Remember that thing I said about not feeling like fried food? Clearly joking. The first taco I consumed, and possibly my favorite (though all were delicious) was the fried fish taco. The PERFECTLY fried fish taco. The astonishingly crunchy beer-battered awesomeness on the outside, zippy slaw beneath perfectly balancing the flavors, lovely and tender and flavorful fish taco.

In the center, the fish taco a la plancha, with the fish grilled, accompanied by the most wonderful, satisfyingly non-mushy veggies, with a zippy sauce atop.

And the dark, poorly lit one is the grilled portabella mushroom taco, complete with caramelized onions and a delightful crunch from pepitas.

Rounding out the plate was some rice and beans on the side, which I mostly gave to Steve.

So so so so good!

Now let’s talk home cooking. In Steve’s apartment, now vacated, he had a cute little patio outside and a cute little tiny Weber grill on it. We spent many a relaxing evening out there, having dinner or sometimes just a glass of wine.

In lieu of deck furniture, we just moved the coffee table outside!

 

(Note: forgot my camera and Steve was nice enough to let me use the phone on his camera. The scene was too pleasant not to capture, but the light was a little dim!) 

This particular evening, Steve took the lead on the menu.

It included:

- Grilled peppers stuffed with a flavorful rice mixture, topped with cheese
- Grilled corn on the cob

- Foil packets, placed on the grill, one of a DUH-LICIOUS dill and butter and potato combination; and another of squash with herbs 

- Homemade pico de gallo (two variations, one of which included a mango habanero hot sauce that Steve picked up in New Orleans). Lettuce wrappers in lieu of chips, to make whatever exciting combinations we felt like.

Quite the feast!

Another, indoor meal (likely there were too many bugs and/or there was too little light). I’d been eyeing this Cooking Light recipe for chilled butter bean soup ever since I’d gotten the June issue in the mail. A trip to HMart later, I had fresh fava beans (mmmmmm) rather than the butter beans called for, but I felt no fear.

This was WAY good! The relish gives it a nice welcome chew and fresh basil makes everything more delicious.

Speaking of fresh basil, I used this as an opportunity to make the first PESTO of the summer! Always such a wonderful milestone. (I also had my first tomato salad of the summer last week, and that was an absolute joy as well!)

This pesto was particularly amazing for two reasons, both involving Steve:

1. It was served atop Steve’s homemade pasta, which he has become a BEAST at making! I have a pasta maker inherited from my cousin (who inherited it from my grandmother) that I rarely use, but with which Steve has fallen in love. He’s been making pasta at least every week, often more, and has come up with the most delicious variations (with a sweet potato-flax incarnation being particularly noteable).

2. I made a blenderful of pesto [oh, oh, additional good thing about Steve- he always has pine nuts!] and it was a big ol’ batch so I was thinking we’d have some on the pasta and have some leftover. Well, Steve, as a nonbeliever in leftovers, just dumped it all on the pasta. So it was essentially equal parts pasta and pesto. If you love pesto (and how could you not?!) this is a really delicious idea.

Helpful Steve also took on cheese grating duty

the new orleans deliciousness continues

The inarguable highlight of our second afternoon in New Orleans was a trip to a landmark:

YESSSSSSSSSS! More on that in a second.

Since it became apparent very early on in the trip that consuming enormous quantities of (often fried) food was going to be an essential part of my stay in New Orleans, I decided to just go with it and maintain some peace of mind by walking extraordinary amounts. Our po’boys and daiquiri fueled first day included an impressive 10.5 mile walk. Our second, a beautiful stroll down Saint Charles Avenue to the famous French Quarter and back, 7.5 miles or so. I’ll take it.

Especially when there were praline samples to be had to fortify us on our trip.

And, since Steve was there and needed second lunch, pizza options to explore.

[Don’t we love that casual pizza places in New Orleans have beer pairings?!]

I clearly missed the memo about Gulf shrimp. Again, these were not tiny! These were jumbo shrimp! (Oxymoron alert).

 

Now, back to that first picture… in case you couldn’t quite guess the contents of that bag…

Ohhhhhh yes. The famous Cafe Du Monde.

Let me first say that the walk through the French Quarter to Cafe du Monde is lovely. Beautiful homes and hotels to be seen, the music of street musicians wafting around (particularly amusing was a girl who was playing the accordion with impressive talent accompanied by a dude who sang wretchedly and was clearly stoned out of his mind. It was quite entertaining!), fun little shops to pop into (including the most extensive hot sauce selection I’ve ever beheld at one spot).

And Cafe du Monde, while clearly a tourist attraction, runs like a well oiled machine. (Note! Cash only. But cheap. It’s like $2 and some change for what we got, and if you’re looking at price per calorie it’s epic!)

As for the beignets.. If you haven’t experienced them this description isn’t going to do much for you but they’re… fried dough. With powdered sugar. And SO MUCH MORE. Guys, beignets are… they just… I can’t even put into words how good they are. Doughy in the middle, crunchy on the outside, yeasty, crisp, sweet…. they are just absolute heaven.

On the map I saw a place called the French Market, and I was all excited to meander around it, envisioning handsome men carrying baguettes and cheese samples and the like, but it was ultimately a bit depressingly touristy. No cat lady t-shirts (though there were a lot of places selling things like that in the French Quarter, being a tourist-oriented part of town) but the restaurants looked more designed to please every palate than truly impart the culinary quirks of Nola.

I did enjoy this pun.

Meander meander. On the one hand, I was all, “Look at those exquisite buildings! I would love to live in the French Quarter!”

On the other hand… Bourbon Street. Yelling. Puking. Spilling. Fighting.

It being a landmark and all, Steve and I both wanted to experience it… just to say we had, pretty much. So off we went to indulge in overpriced drinks in the company of the friendly and inebriated.

The first place we ducked into had a balcony (big plus, and why we picked it), live music (semi-plus; I love live music but wasn’t that dazzled by their sound, but according to Steve their between-songs rappeur was “hilarious”. I was in the bathroom and missed it) but no mojitos (big minus; New Orleans is HOT and you really just want a mojito).

Fortunately, the very cool bartender joined us in bemoaning the fact that most of the bars along that strip did not serve mojitos because it’s a pain to muddle lime… then referred us to one that did, Pat O’Briens. And told us which of the (several) bars on their premises to which to bequeath our hard-earned dollars, which he assured us would have the lowest prices.

And the mojitos were ours.

 

With a nice fountain view.

 

I have turned into a real lightweight and spent the entire walk back from the French Quarter (keep in mind, almost 4 hours) spontaneously breaking into dance, blurting out deep down emotional pronouncements, and laughing at Peniston Street. Again.

Fortunately, the absurd effects of my single drink (!) wore off by the time we did dinner with the family.

My sister recommended Ignatius, another lovely restaurant on Magazine Street. Once again, we sat outside.

  

Like many of the restaurant choices in Nola, they had an impressive small plate selection, so I opted for the shrimp and grits and a side of greens.

Lorrrrrrrrrrd those shrimp and grits were good. (Sidebar: have we been taking note of how much shrimp I ate in New Orleans?! Hoping I didn’t have any underlying cholesterol issues prior to this trip!)

The shrimp, per usual, were fat and juicy and cooked just right but WOWZA that gravy was sumthin’. Smoky, tangy, and rich. And the grits, while certainly serving as an impressive butter vehicle, still had a nice assertive flavor and texture of their own. This was GOOD GOOD GOOD.

The greens were my attempt at getting a serving of vegetables in for, oh… the first time on the trip? They were those lovely Southern-style greens. You know, cooked for hours and hours until basically devoid of nutrients.

Malindi got the same shrimp and grits along with a fried green tomato salad (!) that she shared. And both my mom and Steve got the Jambalaya, which was A+.

Cute story: I thought our waiter was kind of reserved or unfriendly or something, but then as he was clearing our plates, he noticed Malindi still had food left, shot her a grin, and told her to “keep nibblin’”. ADORABLE.

Final note, Steve TREATED everyone to dinner! Thanks pal!

Another crappy night’s sleep, involving a deflating air mattress (…) followed. It was just as well that I didn’t sleep much- more time to see what the lovely city had to offer. I snuck out of Malindi’s dorm room, leaving Steve to get a bit more shut-eye, and made the pleasant stroll to The Chimes once again.

Jill was nice enough to invite Steve and I for breakfast.

Due to a legal system that contains a certain amount of whimsy, The Chimes is not allowed to have any on-site cooking. So, Jill goes down the street to the French Bakery every morning and brings in delicious baked goods.

Nibble nibble nibble. I didn’t eat all of these… but more bread may have happened too :)

Then we were off to another bee-yoo-tiful neighborhood, Bayou Saint John. New Orleans is a little weird with the urban planning- you drive around and you’re on grimy, ugly, strip-mall-y roads, and then you take a turn and drive two blocks and BOOM, you’re somewhere GORGEOUS. It’s all a bit uneven.

This is a bayou. (Secret: I have no idea what a bayou actually is. My little sister spent four years in Louisiana and she does not know either, which makes me feel better).

We originally arrived to attend the Bayou Boogaloo street festival, with live music and the like, and the colorful sign looked promising:

But we turned out to be too early. So instead we took the recommendation of an incredibly friendly local who told us we could find what she considered the best po’boy in New Orleans here:

A LOT of people agreed. I heard some local types go, “Ugh, that’s right, it’s Tulane graduation this weekend.”

*cough* Sorry.

Some of the past visitors were famous!

(Can you imagine trying to eat a messy po’boy wearing a suit and tie?! Reason 203485720835602837502835 I don’t want to be president.)

After a long wait to order and then receive our food, I would’ve eaten just about anything, but these sweet potato fries went down real nice. Particularly, in a fun combination I made after raiding the condiments bar out of simple curiosity, with cocktail sauce.

As for my po’boy, initially a bit enigmatic..

Pulled open to reveal it was comprised of a roll, fried catfish, lettuce, tomato, and pickles…

The bread was only so so. And the lettuce was pre-bagged and seemed to be giving out in the Louisiana heat.

Not to worry. I just ate the perrrrrrrrrrrrfect catfish. Fish and chips lunch, Nola style. It was magnificent and in and of itself earned Parkway Bakery its fame.

Also: back in 2005, Parkway Bakery flooded six feet deep. So a toast both to their perfect catfish and their enduring spirit.

The post-lunch activity could’ve easily consisted of a food coma, but instead we took a stroll, to the City Park. We didn’t make it into the museum, but we checked out the sculpture garden, the old-fashioned amusement park (which was ADORABLE; I was heartbroken it wasn’t open) and peeked in at the film they were shooting (!) (Didn’t recognize anyone)

The best part, though, was the natural scenery. As my mom wisely pointed out, you can see where they got the inspiration for putting Mardi Gras beads on trees. The lovely Spanish moss makes that shape naturally!

More to come!