perfection weekend

Perfection, as I define it. That is, a weekend chock full of friends, food, and music.

It began on Friday with (can you imagine a more evocative phrase) Food Truck Rodeo.

An exquisite outdoor space, Christmas lights aplenty, happy neighbors of all ages. Live music. Food trucks. A last really warm and lovely night of Indian summer.

Sidewalk bedecked with chalk (can you tell they’re raising their kids to be hippies here in the Triangle?)

Bluegrass! We ended up sitting right next to the bandstand to eat.

I’d stumbled upon the scene during setup earlier in the day. And made a note of the more whimsically named food trucks for my pun-loving boyfriend.

(that says “baguettaboutit”!)

Once the rodeo officially began, enormous lines formed behind said trucks. Ended up stopping at neither of those (though they, and the crepe truck, are definitely on my to-do list).

Instead I took in the music scene and stole my friends’ baby for awhile.

Then got in a much more reasonable line for pizza and salad. This pizza was boss- it had wild mushrooms, caramelized onion, and entire cloves of roasted garlic *swoon*.

Let me note that this was the second live band of the day for me. After I got off work, I stumbled upon a New Orleans brass band that was lots of fun (particularly enjoying Saint James Infirmary, which was a depressingly themed song- about a woman discovering her beloved in a morgue- and is traditionally played at funerals, but which I found to be quite beautiful and somewhat oddly upbeat).

The next morning, I returned to the same outdoor space for the amazing Carrboro farmer’s market. This lady is my absolute favorite- she has delicious baked goods (many of which are gluten free, FYI) and yummy drinks (mint lemonade, anyone?) and she’s also just delightfully cheerful and lets me know about fun things like when Krishna’s birthday is.

Some of the goodies:

 

And what I opted to buy for breakfast:

Then there were cheese samples from Chapel Hill Creamery. Mmm.

Fresh ginger- so gorgeous!- was in abundance.

 

This was practically the same price as the grocery store, and farm-fresh garlic is something that is truly transcendently delicious if you can get your hands on it. I nabbed some up!

Steve selected this hilariously huge bunch of collard greens.

Someday, when I have some surplus money (so… not holding my breath on that one) I’m going to buy one of these gorgeous, wonderful-smelling, handmade cedar chests.

This particular morning, we strolled from the farmer’s market to my favorite brunch destination in Carrboro: Panzanella. I’ve been a couple of times, including during Mom Weekend 2013 (as dubbed by my roommate and I- the weekend both of our mothers coincidentally were visiting us and we all hung out together!).

The brunch menu kind of makes your eyes roll back in your head. Even better than the sublime-sounding combinations is the fact that they’re purchased through a co-op and mostly local.

They serve delicious Equal Exchange tea in individual teapots.

 

While we waited for our orders to arrive, we admired the interior. The outdoor deck is a WONDERFUL place to eat but it’s been a little too raw lately. The interior has art, a lot of it sort of fun and weird.

 

Soup sounded great to me, and though I wasn’t wild about their special (tomato-cilantro) I still ordered it and ended up LOVING it. I also got some really awesome cheesy grits on the side.

Meanwhile, Steve has become completely obsessed with their vegan wrap, which contains the most creative assortment of ingredients.

Along with being inventive, it is PRETTY and YUMMY!

This post is already quite bulky and we’ve only reached midday Saturday of an epic weekend, so part 2 is forthcoming!

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!

happy pills

Hey pals!

I am writing this in my FUTURE HOME, North Carolina. More specifically, the Triangle (Raleigh/Durham/Chapel Hill). More ideally (if things go my way), I’m in a super cool coffee shop in Carrboro, the cutest. town. on. Earth. Reminds me a lot of Austin with the bikes and the local food and the music venues and the gazillions of cooperatives.

Toured my FUTURE SCHOOL (in an ideal world, of course; caveat must be stated that it is the school at which I have not yet been accepted; but cmon, I just beautifully executed that clause with a beautiful preposition in the middle, not the end. They’d be fools not to accept me). Well not toured in the official sense; toured in the wander around campus looking at all the pretty buildings and pretty trees thinking how nice it was, then toured the general neighborhood admiring all the cute cafes at which I wanted to dine someday.

Hung out with my ONCE AND FUTURE FRIEND Andrea, with whom I attended summer camp at Duke University back when we were dramatical teens. We spent a cumulative six weeks together in high school but our friendship is legit. We’re excited we’ll be living in the same place!

Basically, my life is in a good place. Certainly I have more than my share of nerves about all the changes I foresee in the next few months, but I’m excited for what’s coming next.

Also, my brain has gotten happier and I think it may have something to do with these:

Went to a new doctor where I was immediately stripped nekkid for an EKG (which was jarring but confirmed my heart is in good health) and also tested for scads of vitamin deficiencies. Lo and behold, I was lacking in Vitamin B12 and Vitamin D, both of which are associated with general mental… goodness. Or rather, both of which when lacking can produce mental… badness. Not gonna lie, between allergy meds and hormone things and so on, with these supplements I am now up to taking FIVE PILLS A DAY. Which seems extreme for someone ostensibly “healthy”. And yet, I appreciate that I can just swallow two little things and enhance my well-being in different ways.

And now for some of the randomness you have all grown to crave from my blog.

Pancakes! I LOVE the organic frozen wild Maine blueberries at Trader Joe’s. Cute and tiny, great flavor, melt quickly in yogurt bowls (mmm) and made the cutest pancakes.

 

Pickles! We got scrumptious Persian cucumbers at the farmer’s market (er, that’s an oxymoron. Persian-style, I spose I should say). They’re great, but you do have to watch them because like any cucumber they go a little soft.

So…. I just pickled ‘em! A not at all scientific mixture of soy sauce, rice vinegar, chili garlic paste, salt, sugar.

 

And served them with the most amazing faux-gado-gado. (Say it out loud. You know you want to). This was sort of a healthier, hippie-er gado gado.

Basically, it was vegetables as a peanut sauce vehicle, actually.

Well and ACTUALLY the peanut sauce was sunflower seed sauce.

Enough new paragraphs, this is just a disjointed recollection now. Whatever.

I made some quinoa to mix with the gado gado, cause I’d gotten new red quinoa and that seemed as good a reason as any. I hardboiled eggs, which I consider the essential element of gado gado. I roasted some random vegetables we had around the house. Roasted vegetables are not authentic to gado gado; I simply prefer my carrots and beets roasted. I put some spinach on a plate, followed by the veggies and egg. Then I made my “peanut” sauce- I used sunflower seed butter because I’ve grown to find it too sweet on its own and I thought it’d be niced mixed with other things in a sauce which, SPOILER ALERT, it was. Sunflower seed butter, coconut milk, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and chili-garlic paste.

Dude, it was so good I ate it with a spoon the next day.

 

But this all together is a nice well-rounded meal, nutritionally and flavor-ally (especially with the pickles!) and texturally.

Another fun invention! Sweet potato quiche crust. Whoooooooa.

I blended up part of a baked sweet potato, some flaxseeds, some walnuts, some oats and a little olive oil in a food processor. Couldn’t tell you the quantities but I’ll definitely make it again and get a solid recipe because HOT DAMN THIS WAS GOOD.

With ‘sparagus and ‘shrooms atop, and then a haphazard amount of beaten up eggs and cheese atop that.

I never follow recipes with quiches, which becomes a problem when I overcook them and get gross rubbery eggs. I did it just right this time; cooked it at a nice low 300 and pulled it out when the middle was JUST set. So the egg department was good and the crust department was GREAT! I prebaked it a bit before adding the eggs. For… awhile (this is so obnoxious of me, talking about a great thing I made and making no effort whatsoever to make it reproducible). And when the crust came out of the oven it was just so great and sweet and rich and chewy. Not like typical crust but… awesome. Unique.

   

A final fun thing was dog sitting! I have lately been harboring (unwise) fantasies of getting a dog. And lucky me, I got to borrow one, and it was an exceptionally nice one, AND I was paid RIDICULOUSLY GENEROUSLY for the privilege AND got to use a really boss grill.

Well mostly Steve grilled. And Zia supervised.

   

Annnnnd then things got a little messy with the grill. And we decided the pizza already had some beautiful char so we’d move operations inside. Where, as an added bonus, there was better (er, any) light.

Toppings included mushrooms, green pepper, fresh tomatoes, and slab mozzarella.

 

Supervision continued.

 

Pizza was bossy.

 

And served with a hastily thrown together Whole Foods salad bar salad I only bothered to photograph outside.

I’ll have more to write about various life things later, but let me sum up in saying that the portrayal of your twenties in the mass media is RUBBISH. Sure, maybe you’re young and good looking, but WOW it is a DIFFICULT time. Particularly during the Great Recession.

In my chemistry class, which is filled with tiny little 18-year-olds, one of them was saying how she wanted to get married when she was 21, and my 37 year old classmate and I said NOOOOOO. Not to belittle anyone who got married young, of course. Just, as I put it to her, you have to give yourself the time and space in your twenties to go a little crazy. No, I’m not talking about boozing face or snorting coke necessarily (I mean, sure some people do but I certainly didn’t). I’m just talking about all the cognitive… messiness that comes with your twenties.

I’m not all the way on the other end of it, but I’m feeling retrospective about certain forms of my twenties craziness, which is a relief. And I’m excited for the next phase!