Deep Creek 2017

For the third year in a row, we went to Deep Creek to spend MLK weekend with some of my high school friends and their kids.

One of the highlights of the weekend, for me, was getting to break in this gigantic camo onesie,
gifted to me by Cooper's Aunt Noreen. It was both enormous and very, very warm.
But it was not slimming.

It was a meat-and-cheese fest, as it is every year. We start on Friday night, with meatballs from Mastellone's, and don't look back. Chili, tacos, burgers and steaks, sausage and bacon at every breakfast. And literally a pound of cheese available for every single person in the house, including those who are still in diapers. It's fabulous.

It's also a game-fest. We don't do a whole lot while we're there, but we do play board games. One of this year's hits was Speak Out, that game that gets so much play online because it involves weird dental torture devices that hold your mouth open.

It is hilarious, but also very, very creepy. And I'm pretty sure those devices are at least part of the reason why several of the people in the house (including Cooper) closed out the weekend with the stomach flu. Germs, people. Germs.

Though the weekend as a whole is a blast - how bad can it be when it's filled with meat, cheese, booze and board games? - one of our food-related highlights actually occurred before we even made it to the house.

On our way, just about five miles out, in the town of Accident, Cooper and Dixon and I made a quick pit stop at the FireFly Farms store. As is typical, pretty much everyone coming for the weekend had forgotten at least one thing in their travels. Like crackers. we were about to enter a house with massive amounts of cheese...but no crackers.

For whatever reason, I didn't immediately make the connection between the name of the store and the cheese that I often pick up at Atwater's and see on menus all over Baltimore. But as soon as we walked into the shop, we made the connection.

It's super cute, with an excellent selection of cheese (both from FireFly Farms itself and from other makers), plus tons of wine, a handful of locally made stuff (think Popsations popcorn and Snake Oil hot sauce) and, yes, crackers.

While I can't, in good conscience, recommend drinking the Maryland blueberry wine we picked up, I do think it might make for a nice ingredient in a savory dish. And I can recommend just about everything else in the place. We walked out with our arms full and big smiles on our faces.

Those smiles stayed planted all weekend long (until the stomach flu reared its ugly head...fortunately, the weekend was almost over by then). I'm already looking forward to next year.

43 Hours in Kentucky

Last year was a big one for us, since Cooper and I both turned 40, along with tons of our friends. This year, as it turns out,  has been nearly as big. Most recently, we helped our friend Jeff celebrate with a bang - a bourbon-tasting trip to Kentucky.

The crew included Jeff and his wife Christine, Alicia and Mike, Cooper and me and Kyle (Mary had to work, as did Bill).

Our tour guides very graciously took this photo for us.

As it turns out, Kentucky is a pretty easy trip from Baltimore. The flight from BWI to Louisville is just over an hour and, since it's a regular Southwest run, there are lots of choices and it's not very expensive.

After doing some research, Christine booked us at a cool bed and breakfast called Bourbon Manor, in Bardstown, a small town right in the thick of bourbon country. Mike,  Alicia, Jeff and Christine headed down on Thursday; Cooper and Kyle and I joined them Friday. And we all set off together on an epic adventure.

Friday: From Baltimore to Bardstown

Kyle & his bloody and Kyle with Cooper at the airport; Harrison-Smith pork rolls, Busch Light bottles
and live music at Old Talbott Tavern

Because I am a slightly crazy person when it comes to travel plans, Cooper and Kyle and I arrived at the airport on Friday with, oh, two hours to spare. We killed most of that time at Obrycki's, which really does have a nice house beer and a gorgeous bloody.

One short flight, plus a couple of Kyle's free Southwest drink coupons later, we landed in Kentucky, where Kyle picked up his hilariously red, enormous Ford F-150 rental and we got on the road.

Bardstown, where we were staying, is about 40 minutes from the airport, but we took a slight detour to Shelbyville, to stop by Walnut Grove Farm, where Kyle's uncle's lives.

It was our first time meeting his uncle and he was fantastic - funny and super welcoming. He hosts weddings on the farm and while we were there, he was getting ready for festivities taking place the next day. It's a gorgeous spot and so relaxing. (Especially relaxing during our visit, since he was plying us with beers.)

Back on the road, we made our way to Bourbon Manor, which was more charming than we could've guessed. Pretty, 19th century-inspired rooms, personable hosts, really, really good breakfasts - it had everything we could've asked for, including a bar, called The Bunghole, right on the premises. Also, ghosts. In Bardstown, everything is haunted.

For dinner, we headed into town, to Harrison-Smith House, where we had one of the best meals I've had all year. I feel like I say that a lot, but I mean it. The menu is short, focused and pig-heavy in a creative way. The drinks were solid, as was the wine list, and the sausage roll, which was kind of like a porky egg roll, was absolutely amazing.

Also, our waiter, Richard, was awesome. A total professional who read our table so well. Even with an average waiter, it would've been a memorable meal, but his excellent service pushed it over the top.

After dinner, we wandered over to the Old Talbott Tavern, where we were greeted by live music and $1.50 Busch Light bottles - a combination that Cooper finds hard to resist. We spent a couple hours dancing and drinking and generally having a blast, before going back to The Bunghole and closing it down with a few more drinks. If the weekend had ended right there, it still would've been a winner.

But it didn't.

Saturday: Bourbon and Beer

On Saturday morning, we were up and at 'em early...and some of us were moving a little slowly (Cooper). But we had things to do. Christine had hired a tour company, Kentucky Wine Tours, to take us on a tour of bourbon country.

Normally, one of our stops would've been Jim Beam, but as it turns out, the staff went on strike at midnight on Friday. So we didn't get to see that very big distillery, but we didn't miss it. Instead, we hit a couple other places: Maker's Mark, Limestone Branch, Heaven Hill (just for the gift shop) and Willett.

Our first stop was Maker's Mark, which is beautiful...and very busy. If you're going, try to get there just when it opens, otherwise, you risk waiting for a while for an open tour. (They run a lot of tours throughout the day...but they also get a lot of visitors.)

The grounds, the process, the barrels, the labels...plus the Chihuly ceiling and Cooper and Alicia enjoying some togetherness

Our tour guide at Maker's was young, but really good. He knew what he was talking about and he was funny and personable. It's a gorgeous place and though it's a big company, it didn't feel at all impersonal. We got to see the bourbon made and where it's packaged, labelled and dipped in wax. It's all right there.

The tour ended with a tasting and I have to be honest, bourbon at 10 am is rough when you're 40 and hungover. But you know what's not rough? The Dale Chihuly ceiling that leads into the Maker's gift shop. It's gorgeous.

Because it was Jeff's birthday, our tour guides gave him a gift: his own bottle of Maker's, which he got to dip in wax in the gift shop. It was pretty cool all around...though the part that was most entertaining for us was how totally unimpressed the wax-dipping lady looked by Jeff's antics.

Jeff, in a photo by Christine

After Maker's, our tour guides surprised us with a trip to Limestone Branch, which is the (legit) distillery that was on Moonshiners. While there, we tasted some really good moonshine (for real) and were given a tour by the most engaging, entertaining man ever. He was fantastic. So fun and so full of knowledge.

One of the things we learned is that a lot of the people who distill bourbon are related in one way or another. There are a whole lot of Beams down there and in many cases, the master distiller position at a company is passed down from father to son or daughter (mostly son). It's as much an art as it is a science to create bourbons that are both tasty and consistent and there's no replacing the value of apprenticing with your dad.

We also heard a lot more about the water quality than I was expecting. Comparing this trip to our whiskey adventures last summer in Ireland was interesting. Since there are strict laws regulating how bourbon is aged (new oak barrels, charred on the inside), there's more emphasis on the water and, in some places, the mash vs. the Irish emphasis on the barrel's history and the distilling process itself.

Limestone Branch is a small place, but full of great stories that go back for generations. If you have the chance, go there.

An old whiskey sign at Limestone Branch, view of their grounds, and an Ale 8 One with lunch

After Limestone Branch, we headed back to Maker's, for lunch at Toll Gate Cafe, a little spot on the Maker's campus that makes excellent sandwiches...and just so happens to be run by the brother of the owner of the Harrison-Smith House.

We then did a quick drive by Heaven Hill Distilling, which makes a couple big brands of bourbon, including Evan Williams and Elijah Craig. Our timing was off, so we didn't stay for a tour, but we did make the most of our time at their gift shop, which was more like a museum than a simple store.

As we drove between the distilleries, our guide, Gary, gave us some instruction on the finer points of the bourbon business. Pointing out the rickhouses - the places where the bourbon barrels are placed to age - he talked to us about construction and location and insurance.

That sounds boring, but it wasn't. The big structures, which are often painted black because they end up covered in black mold anyway, are built far from the distilleries themselves and far enough apart from one another that if there's a fire, they won't all go up in flames.

Because bourbon is so highly flammable, fires to happen, and they can very quickly take out a lot of product. And because of that, the aging bourbon is impossible to insure. So if you have a fire, you're stuck.

After Heaven Hill, we made our way to our final distillery of the day, Willett. This was a special request from Jeff, who loves the stuff and so does Kyle's dad. So, apparently, do a lot of bartenders.

The brand hasn't been around for a super long time, though the family behind it has been distilling for generations. And, as we discovered during our tour, given by a fun girl named Evelyn, the family has roots in Maryland. Though they've been in Kentucky for many generations, they were originally from Prince George's County.

Willett is cool overall, but the highlight is the still, which is a proprietary genie bottle shape
(which is also the shape of their bottles)

It was a fun tour and Cooper finally started to emerge from his hangover haze, just as Kyle started to slip into a bourbon-induced buzz that kept building for the rest of the night. It was...entertaining.

The tours were over and we were back at the B&B before 4...and then back off, having a drink at The Bunghole before heading to the Bardstown Craft Beer Fest. We walked from the inn - it wasn't too far - and strolled around town, ducking into a few shops before heading to the festival itself.

Once we got there, we were pleasantly surprised by a ton of craft beers, some not-so-craft beers (Carlsberg?), the Hogslop String Band, and a couple very good food trucks. Plus, a boatload of friendly people. AND there was square dancing at one point, which I did not participate in, but Mike, Alicia and Kyle did. Believe me when I say it was memorable. About 20 minutes too long, but memorable.

Tons of craft beers, Cooper at The Bunghole, the band, a kickass BBQ truck

While at the festival, we got to talking with a couple manning one of the food booths, a place selling chili. Turns out, the lady there is the mom of the people who own Toll Gate Cafe and Harrison Smith and she used to work at Limestone Branch and was the distiller behind some of our favorites there.

It's a small town.

But a really nice one.

After the festival, we headed back to the Old Talbott Inn for a couple more Busch Lights and a little more live music before finally throwing in the towel and calling for a cab to carry us back to the B&B. (One downside of Bardstown: no Uber.)

Sunday morning, we were up and out very early and we were back in Baltimore by 11. A quick trip, definitely, but one that was so much fun. I knew we'd have a good time - we always do - but I wasn't expecting to be so thoroughly charmed by the town, its people and its restaurants and bars.

I'd go back in a heartbeat.

Ireland Adventures Part 1: The Whiskey

As I was a-goin' over Gilgarra Mountain

I spied Colonel Farrell, and his money he was countin'.

First I drew my pistols and then I drew my rapier,

Sayin' "Stand and deliver, for I am your bold receiver."

Musha ringum duram da,

Whack fol the daddy-o,

There's whiskey in the jar.

We've been back from Ireland for about a week and a half now, which has given me a little time to collect my thoughts about the trip. It was, start to finish, incredible - and as it was such an amazing and densely packed adventure, when it comes to writing about it, I had trouble figuring out where to start.

Ultimately, I decided to start at the end - not of the trip, but at the traditional end of the meal. With whiskey.

*****

Early on in the planning stages of this trip, when we were tossing around different ideas about how we might spend our days in Ireland, Cooper mentioned that he'd really like to spend some time learning the story behind Irish whiskey.

As it turns out, there are not a whole lot of whiskey distilleries in Ireland. I was under the impression that the Irish, like the Scots, are distilling all over the place. Not so. Though we learned in our travels that craft distilling is on the rise, as of right now, there are only about a dozen whiskey distilleries operating in Ireland.

*****

There's only one distillery, actually, that exists within the Dublin city limits: Teeling Whiskey Co.

Teeling was the first place that made it on to our list; it's what Cooper drinks at home (we buy it at Wells) and he absolutely loves it. The two of us visited Teeling's early in the trip - our first Monday - with Cooper's parents and Dixon in tow.

It's a fairly new distillery, though the family behind it has been in the whiskey business for generations (since 1782). The location - in the Liberties, not far from Guinness - was, long ago, where all the Dublin distilleries operated. But following a massive fire (with a gross side-story) in the late 19th century, and a variety of technological and economic fallbacks (including the impact of Prohibition on the international whiskey trade), one by one, Dublin's distilleries - and distilleries throughout Ireland - closed.

We learned quite a bit about the history of distilling in Dublin and throughout the country during our tour of Teelings, which is historic and imposing from the outside but sparkling and modern inside. The tour included both a broad history lesson and instruction on how whiskey is made, with an up close look at the company's stills - three in all, to triple-distill the booze,  each one bearing the name of one of Teeling's owner's daughters.

Our time at Teelings, from our look at the stills to the tasting to signing the tasting room wall and lounging in the bar.

After the tour, we did a quick tasting, trying one of the company's whiskeys (one that is not currently produced on-site, as they've only been open in Dublin for a year and it takes longer than that to age whiskey).  We were also served a whiskey and aperol cocktail, called the Mo Chara, that was delightful. I will definitely be making it at home.

*****

On a two-week trip, one distillery was not enough, but three or four might be too many. Though the Jameson and Tullamore tours are, by all accounts, very good, we skipped both in favor of Kilbeggan, a smaller, older brand now owned by Cooley (which is actually owned by Beam and which - because everything is incestuous - used to belong to the Teeling family).

The trip to Kilbeggan was recommended by Baltimore bartender Ryan Sparks, who I got to chatting with one afternoon last spring while he was behind the bar at Bookmakers in Federal Hill. I asked where he'd recommend we go and he suggested Kilbeggan, saying it is a cool experience for anyone interested in the history of whiskey making.

He was so right. Founded in 1757, Kilbeggan is the oldest distillery in Ireland and though only a tiny bit of whiskey is made on the premises today (most Kilbeggan whiskey is made elsewhere), the space is lovingly preserved and offers a fascinating glimpse at how whiskey was made in the mid-18th century.

We're talking water wheel, massive wooden barrels, a room for coopering (!), and the oldest working pot still in use in Ireland today; it dates back to the early 19th century.

*****

We drove up to Kilbeggan with Alicia, Mike, Stacy and her dad on our first Thursday morning; it was a little over an hour north of where we were staying (an hour on narrow roads that give new meaning to the word "harrowing").

When we arrived, we had a little time to kill before our tour, so we grabbed coffee in a small coffee shop next to the distillery. Turns out, it was both a coffee and chocolate shop and it was owned by the distillery; there was a big vat of chocolate in production right in the middle of the shop and everything smelled glorious.

*****

Thanks to the coffee and chocolate aroma, we were all in good spirits when we entered Kilbeggan - and the tour did nothing but lift our moods. Not only was the space extremely cool, our tour guide, Tracy, was incredibly knowledgeable.

It ended up being a private tour - just the six of us - and she took her time, answering our questions about the history of the place, the distilling process and also about the nature of the whiskey business in Ireland as a whole. She knew her stuff and was super engaging.

Kilbeggan, inside and out, was a beautiful historic spot.

Like the Teelings tour, the Kilbeggan tour ended with a tasting; this time, we tried three different whiskeys produced by Kilbeggan. My favorite, the 8-year single grain, made under the Kilbeggan label (as opposed to Locke's or Connemara), was the sweetest of the bunch.

*****

Between the two tours, Cooper and I picked up a ton of knowledge about the history and mechanics behind Irish whiskey. And of course, the more you know, the better the stuff tastes.

Food and drink, I think, are the best way to study a culture; if you understand what people eat and why, it's not so difficult to understand who they are. The story of Irish whiskey production is a mishmash of fighting and passion and technology and law.

We certainly didn't hear about all the details on our journeys...but what we did learn was fascinating. It's a great reminder that in every sip, there's a whole lot of story.

Observations from Abroad

We have just started the second half of a 2-week trip to Ireland and Scotland - right now I'm in the Edinburgh airport, after a weekend in the city, about to head back to Athy, Ireland, which has been out home base.

I'm on my phone, which is not super conducive to blogging, but I did want to share a couple quick observations about food in these countries.

First, the whole Irish love potatoes thing...it's more real than I even imagined. Sides of chips or mashed potatoes come with everything. Even some dishes that already include potatoes.

That's why I'm sorry to say that to me, Scottish chips are better than Irish. They're somewhat skinnier and seem to have spent more time in the fryer. We've had some really good ones.

Speaking of Scotland, I am an unabashed fan of haggis - I'm such a scrapple girl that of course I love its Scottish cousin.

What I didn't expect in Scotland, though, was the best Indian food I've eaten. It makes sense - the Empire and all - but I was pleasantly surprised, anyway, to find that Mother India's, where we went on the recommendation of our AirBNB host, was outrageously good.

Finally, another big surprise: the Irish have figured out how to always - ALWAYS - serve food steaming hot. It's kind of fascinating.

More on all of this when I return!

Trendy: Colombia

Colombian street. Source.

Seems like something I predicted waaaay back in 2008 is finally truly happening on a major scale. Colombia has legitimately become the next big thing.

In 2008, I noticed an uptick in favorable media coverage of the country. It seemed like it was trying to shake its reputation as a scary place with a drug-fueled economy.

That doesn't happen overnight. But things can change.

Over the past two months, four or five of my Facebook friends have gone to Colombia on vacation. They're all hospitality/restaurant people, who might be a little more willing than others to try something slightly risky in the name of a great experience.

But still, they're going to South America - and not to Argentina or Peru or Chile. To Colombia.

And based on their pictures, it looks like they are having a hell of a time.

The Hemingway Pub Crawl

I love this article, on PUNCH, about the lasting mystique of Hemingway the Boozehound and how that has made the bars he frequented - so many years ago - visit-worthy shrines.

I'm certainly one of those people who makes a point of visiting Hemingway's old haunts. Last year, when we were in Paris, we ate (and drank) at Les Deux Magots, Cafe de Flore, Closeries des Lilas and Brasserie Lipp.

On a previous trip to Paris, I spent a very, very entertaining evening at Harry's American Bar.

I've also been to Sloppy Joe's in Key West (and to Hemingway's home there).

That's a lot of Hemingway action.

It's not that I think stalking Hemingway's barstools will make me a better storyteller or a crisper writer. But there's something undeniably alluring about drinking in his favorite spots.

I Went to See Taylor Swift in Philadelphia...

And it was awesome. We were celebrating 40th birthdays - mostly Alicia's and Stacy's, which are this summer (Stacy's was last week and Alicia's is in less than two weeks) - and, kind of generally, celebrating all the things Swifty loves - girl squads, cute outfits, red lipstick, selfies, etc. (So, so many selfies.)

From start to finish, the weekend was just a treat. 

And now, I wish we could go back and do the whole weekend all over again.

Links:Jim's Steaks / Copabanana / Buddakan / Zara / City Taphouse

Summer's Coming

As a general rule, I'm a stickler for tradition. But when it comes to Memorial Day, we like to mix it up. Some years, we just stay home. Last year, we went to Keuka Lake. This year, we're headed to the Fenwick for a few days.

As I started making my Fenwick packing lists, I realized that I'd completely skipped writing about a bunch of last summer's delicious exploits. Like, all of last summer's delicious exploits. So here we go with a few of them:

Left to right, starting on the top row: Dixon drinking Cheerwine in Duck, as we wait for our house to open; the fish tacos at Sunset Grille in Duck; Bill's gorgeous pina coladas at our Duck house tiki bar. Second row: Crabs and shrimp in Duck (note: NC crab steamers do not use NEARLY enough seasoning; A stuffed soft crab sandwich at Harris Crab House last Labor Day; Ropewalk Fenwick oysters. Third row: The final Fenwick Labor Day feast, including tomatoes and mozzarella, steamed shrimp and Patsy's soft shells.

Here's what I learned from these photos: I love shellfish.

Also: I am ready for summer 2015 to start. Right now.

Birthdays Birthdays Birthdays!

Back in October, when I wrote about my mom's 65th birthday and Dixon's 8th birthday, I mentioned that around here, fall is birthday season. And is it ever - especially when you let "fall" stretch into early winter. 

Since those first two September birthdays, we have been in full-on celebration mode. This is just a taste of the fun.

October: Patsy, Cail, Xander and Bill

Clockwise from top left: Chicken tortilla soup; Chickens at the Stambaughs; Cail's cake in progress; Stambaugh chili; Cail's cake, the final product.

Cooper's mom's birthday celebration was low-key this year but Cail's was a little less so. My parents and I went down to Richmond to visit for the weekend and Cail's parents and her brother came up from New Orleans.

My brother threw Cail a surprise party in the private room at a cute wine bar called Secco and Cail's dad, who has made her birthday cake every year forever, outdid himself with a gorgeous pink and turquoise "drama queen" concoction. Mr. Moran is an architect and very artistic - watching him work was super cool.

Later in the month, we celebrated Nathan and Liz's son's birthday up at their house in the country. It was a gorgeous day to roam around their yard, checking out the chickens and eating their awesome food - including chili, hatch chili queso and root beer braised brisket. Oh, and apple pie moonshine. Because that is how they roll.

To wrap up October, we celebrated Bill's birthday on a Sunday afternoon at our house. I made a big batch of chicken tortilla soup, since it was starting to get chilly...and Bill likes Mexican food. It was one in a long string of fall Sundays that we spent at our house, surrounded by friends and delicious food. I could do that every day.

November: Mike

Seafood tower; Mike and I with our gifts; Stacy's first oyster.

In mid-November, Mike turned forty, giving us a great excuse to head to Thames Street Oyster House, where our friend/neighbor Teresa proved once again why she is one of the best servers in the city.

Bill was out of town but Stacy came down from New York, so with the Swartses, we were a group of seven. We did our best to order everything on the menu, including tons of oysters (and Stacy's first oyster ever!) and a suckling pig special that came with a side of oyster and butternut squash dressing. Ridiculousness.

I loved my monkfish entree but my favorite part of the night was a quail appetizer accessorized with chestnuts and quince puree. I absolutely couldn't stop thinking about it. They are so good at what they do there.

The night was funny, too. Alicia asked us each to come up with a story or two to roast Mike. Which...we did. I created a "strengths and weaknesses" roundup that was quite funny, if I do say so myself. I keep telling my friends that I'm funnier than they give me credit for. I stand by that.

December: Cooper, Tom and Me

Clockwise from top left: Cooper and Dixon at Parts and Labor; Corn fritters at Shoo-fly; Clay Davis mug from Patrick and Amanda; Me with Suzanne and Alison at Alison's party.

December is an especially busy month around here, with not just Christmas but also Cooper's birthday, Clark's birthday (the same day as Cooper's), my birthday and my brother's birthday.

We didn't celebrate with Clark this year (he was in DC, we were in Baltimore) but we did manage to have a bunch of good meals out. For Cooper's, he and Dixon and I went to Parts and Labor, which was just as good as everyone said it was. Tons of meat, beautifully cooked, in a super cool space. We'd already been to the butcher shop a few times, so we knew what to expect...and we're looking forward to going back

December birthdays are tough, since it's such a busy month. But it's also so much fun. Since we're in celebration mode, I usually get to see friends from all over the place either right before, on, or right after my birthday.

This year, my birthday was on a Monday but the celebrating really started on Saturday night with a party at my friend Alison's house. She's my high school friend and old roommate (from our Canton days) and her husband is one of Cooper's college friends. So the party was full of people I love.

The next day, I made my annual trip to McGarvey's, where a bunch of high school friends came to celebrate with Cooper, Dixon and me. We ate oysters and crab dip and burgers and crab cakes and drank a bunch of Aviators. Just like last year and the year before and many, many years before that.

That night, we came back up to Baltimore and got to hang out with Patrick and Amanda, of Paris fame (they have since moved back to Denver). They came over for crab soup and general revelry - and brought us an awesome Clay Davis mug made by someone they work with. We loved it and it was especially timely, what with the re-release of The Wire.

Finally, on my actual birthday, Dixon and Cooper and I drove through Hampden in the rain, then went to Shoo-fly for dinner and I remembered that I can't get enough of their corn fritters. They come with spicy honey and are just so good.

After Christmas, Tom, Cail, Erin and Clark all came up and stayed with us for a couple days. The 27th is Tom's birthday, so we met my parents at Clementine, where we got to have one last big family dinner before everyone returned to their respective homes.

Some of the Waskoms had been to Clementine for lunch or brunch, but not for dinner - and Cooper and I were happy to introduce them to some of our favorites, like the charcuterie and the basil-lime elixir. We all loved our meals, ending a big visit on a high note.

January: Kyle, Bert and Matt

Top row, left to right: Kyle's birthday at the Waterfront Hotel; Dinner in Deep Creek; Pear and bourbon cocktail. Middle row: Dixon at Wisp; Bert using the sabre; Puzzled in Deep Creek; Bottom row: The table at Matt's party; The entire Deep Creek crew; Matt and his "40" glasses.

We took a break for dinner at our house on New Year's Eve, then jumped right back into the birthday celebrations. Kyle's birthday is on January 4th - a Saturday this year. Immediately after our great dinner for Mike's fortieth, Kyle announced that he wanted to go back for his birthday. So we did.

Once again, it was fantastic. Alicia got the porgy, which is served standing up and is crazy good. Mike kept it simple with a lobster roll (outrageous) and I ordered against type, getting tuna, which was also delicious. The quail, again, was a show-stopper, as was the octopus, which I can never resist.

After dinner, we went to the Waterfront Hotel to watch the Ravens beat the Steelers (much to Mary's chagrin), finishing the night on an extra-sweet note.

A few weeks later, Cooper and Dixon and I headed off to Deep Creek, to celebrate our friend Bert's fortieth with a bunch of people I've known since high school or longer. (Bert's birthday is in December but we couldn't get it together to go away until January.)

It was four days of so much fun. We ate and drank way too much, did a bunch of puzzles, played some Cards Against Humanity, hung out in the snow, watched our kids bond and retold stories about stuff that happened two decades ago. And, of course, I got sentimental about how lucky I am to have so many great friends from high school and even elementary school.

Last Saturday, we got to celebrate with even more of those high school friends, when we went to a party for another fortieth - this one for my friend Matt. It was at his parents' house, near Severna Park, and was gorgeous. Matt's mom works at a flower shop; she and a friend often do flowers for weddings and they are so good at it. The party was catered by Mission BBQ, so the food was awesome, and was tons of fun, all the way around.

But the celebrations really aren't over. Because this is the year my high school class turns forty, we are in for a year full of parties and big nights out. Which is busy, it's true. But wow is it fun.

#ertternation

Earlier this month, we went to the 35th annual Ertter Family Reunion, otherwise known around these parts as "Mary's family reunion." Mary grew up in a small town about an hour outside Pittsburgh; her parents still live there, as do a whole bunch of other relatives.

The reunion, which we've been lucky enough to go to three times, is held on a big piece of Ertter land just across the street from Mary's parents' house. There's a pool and an old tennis court (which becomes beer pong central at night) and a pavilion next to a giant fire pit. There are grapevines and blueberry bushes and apple trees...and overall, it's just awesome.

This year, right after we arrived, I jumped right into a wine tasting lead by one of Mary's cousins (I think - there are a lot of people and sometimes it's hard to tell exactly how they're all related). The guy who leads the tasting sells wine in Ohio - and he totally knows his stuff. This year, it included about 20 wines, half white, half red, and an interesting selection of similar varietals from different parts of the world. We'd taste a red syrah/grenache from Spain, for example, then follow it with a similar blend from California. It was great.

Other highlights included cheese-stuffed, grilled peppers topped with cheese (and so much butter), the zillions of salads, apps and desserts the family makes and, as ever, a Genessee beer truck.

We make a nice little road trip out of it, too. On the way to PA, we stopped at Family Meal to have breakfast with Sarah G. (My goat cheese and caramelized onion omelet was lovely but the potatoes - so crazy crispy - are the thing not to miss.)

During another stop, Cooper picked up the weirdest local birch beer - it tasted like wintergreen Lifesavers - and I had the probably not that exciting epiphany that Martin's Potato Rolls are a Pennsylvania product. (I just think of them as global. Who doesn't love a potato roll?)

On the way home, we stopped at Bedford Diner, where last year we had a surprisingly amazing breakfast. Unfortunately, this year's experience was not as good - thanks in part to a waitress who probably shouldn't be working in a diner (she was so scattered). But, just like last year, the scrapple I ordered was magical. Seriously, some of the best ever, and I consider myself a connoisseur.

As always, it was a weekend filled with so many laughs, so much fun, and so much love. We're so lucky to not only have great friends - our friends also have great families.

Beach

This was taken on Monday, after stand-up paddleboarding but before Alicia and Kyle's water ballet performance, set to a group rendition of "Someone Like You" by Adele. We are multi-talented.

Our beach week is winding down - Kyle and Mary are already gone - and we are collectively preparing ourselves for real-world reentry. There's been a lot of the photo above - drinking by the pool in bathing suits. For the grown-ups, not the kids.

Also, togetherness. A lot of togetherness. It is, I think, rare to find a group of friends that can vacation together and still want to hang out by the end of the week. Was there a point this morning when we collectively agreed that next year, we'd like to bring muzzles for both the kids and the adults? Yes, there was. Am I currently in my room, alone, with the door shut, avoiding everyone? Yes, I am. But will I be sad and miss everyone when I wake up in Baltimore on Sunday morning? Totally.

More to follow on the food, bevs and festivities. It's been a great week.

Happy Fourth of July!

We are up at Alicia's family's house for the Fourth of July - it's our fifth Keuka fourth!

As usual, we are celebrating with a throwdown (wings!), boat rides, swimming and lots of snacks. Here's a quick and very incomplete glimpse:

After hearing about this beer's brilliance, I bought some. It really is pretty good. And definitely not too watermelony.

Alicia, Cooper and I went to happy hour at Heron Hill winery on Wednesday night. There was music and wine and snacks - like this locally sourced meat and cheese plate.

We've been busy here, in the best way. Friends, food, drinks...if that isn't the pursuit of happiness, I don't know what is.

[Note: This was also the first blog post I've ever written from my phone. It was...an OK experience. I couldn't easily figure out how to link to things, though. Sorry!]

Paris: The Wrap

The week after we returned from Paris, we were happy to be home but still missing many of the finer points of Paris. So we invited some friends over for dinner, covered the table with the cloth I bought at Simrane, opened some Chateauneuf-du-Pape we bought at the duty free store in the airport, and set about making a French meal.

It was simple - we started with green salads with goat cheese toasts. Nothing crazy, but still very French. Then we served roasted potatoes with sliced, grilled London broil and a sauce that was a great approximation of the delicious, famous sauce at Relais de l'Entrecote.

I used this recipe for the sauce, which tasted very close to the original - but mine was definitely not as thick as what we had in Paris. Could've been my fault, not the recipe, though, as I doubled it and sometimes that messes with the reduction.

So, more than a month after we're back, here are my final thoughts on the trip.

First, some things I had forgotten:

• Everyone in Paris smokes. Still! It's not allowed inside anymore but everyone sitting outside the cafes has a ciggie in hand. It's so different from the U.S.
• Dogs are just everywhere. That's nice...but unfortunately, dog poop is also everywhere. Apparently the French are not familiar with les baggies plastiques.
• Everywhere you look, there's an antique bookshop or a fancy kids' clothing store. How these people stay in business, I do not know. Not complaining...just observing.

On the practical side, there were a few things that made our trip easier than it could have been (things besides having friends living in the center of Paris - which, admittedly, was the best part):

• First, renting an apartment via airbnb was absolutely delightful. It was so much less expensive and easier to navigate than a hotel reservation - I picked a neighborhood, played around with the budget and ended up with a great studio (small, but bigger than a hotel room) right in the middle of things. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
• These City Walks cards, which were given to us as a gift by the Kennedys, were so incredible. Each day, we'd start out with a general idea of where were wanted to walk, then I'd consult the cards. They were easier and more portable than a big map and just super informative, especially when it came to shopping.
• And finally, you know what makes everything better? Uber. In Paris, taxis are pretty easy to come by (and if you're willing to ride a bike - and risk your life - it's also very easy and cheap to rent one). But let's be honest, a private car, ordered via your phone? It's better. I love in Baltimore and I loved it just as much in Paris. We walked more than we rode but in a pinch - like when you need a lift to the airport - the reliability and professionalism of Uber just can't be beat.

 And on the less practical side, there is just no other city that feels like Paris. For all its faults - and it has them - it's unflinchingly beautiful and just a lovely, inspiring place to be.

Paris Recap: Day Four

[Clockwise from top left: silver at Les Puces, drowned rats at Sacre Coeur, the view from Sacre Coeur, lunch spot Le Poulbot, le scarf meets le camo, a sign outside the Saint-Jean-de-Montmartre, after our amazing dinner at Les Closeries des Lilas, le scarf gets a Baltimore-style welcome home)

After our semi-raucous Friday night (read: not actually that raucous but we are older than we used to be), Saturday morning came early. And it was raining. We were up and out, though, because we had big plans: Les Puces de Clingancourt. AKA the famous Paris flea market.

But first: breakfast at Les Editeurs. It was the standard petit dejeuner - carbs, coffee, juice - but exciting because the place ties into the neighborhood's history as a literary hub - and we could see it from our apartment window.


I'd been once before and so had Amanda but it was Patrick and Cooper's first time. It was exciting. After Patrick finally dragged himself out of bed and caffeinated, we met at a metro stop and were off to the flea.

A few days earlier on Facebook, Cooper's Uncle Chuck reminded me that for years, our family has had its own name for the Paris flea: Shithouse Village. And for all the amazing stories you hear about the flea (how many Elle Decor articles include the words "found at the flea market in Paris"?) - Shithouse Village is a pretty apt moniker.

The market is a sprawling bunch of structures, some of which seem more permanent than others, and the outside of ring of vendors doesn't sell anything worthwhile. Seriously, we're talking about $3 booty shorts - that type of stuff.

But as you make your way towards the center, there is a lot to love. In the past, I've picked up some great, old artwork and cool antique maps. On this trip, we were after two things: something Buddha-related to give my sister for her 30th birthday...and a cane sword for Patrick. As in, a sword that is hidden in a cane.

We found both. In addition to a bunch of cool furniture, some great linens, and a lot of artwork we didn't buy. We also didn't buy the first several Buddhas we found (no offense, Erin, I love you, but $1,500 seems like a lot for a birthday present, even if it was a milestone birthday). AND we didn't buy any cane swords (again, kind of on the pricey side) - but we did get to check them out and they were cool.

After a couple hours at the rainy flea, we hopped back on the metro and headed to Montmartre, where we did a little shopping (the Biscuiterie de Montmartre was maybe the cutest shop ever), lit candles in Sacre Coeur, and took refuge in one of the neighborhood's less famous churches, Saint-Jean-de-Montmartre. Both churches are mesmerizing and calming - even if Sacre Coeur was packed with people.

After Sacre Couer but before Saint Jean, we took a break for lunch at Le Poulbet, a very tiny, very charming restaurant Patrick and Amanda had been to once before. Funnily enough, nearly everyone in the place was American...I think that's probably what happens when you're located in a neighborhood that tourists love. But still, it had the kind of quirky, almost countryish charm that people associate with France (though not necessarily Paris).

Cooper had foie gras to start and Patrick had escargot; Amanda and I both had onion soup, which seemed appropriate since it was so gray and rainy outside. We had major dinner plans that night but that didn't stop us from taking down half chickens drenched in super-savory brown mushroom sauce (Amanda and me) and duck confit (the guys). We closed out with some stinky cheese and by then, we were exhausted.

After a nap and some packing (on my part), we gussied ourselves up and met Patrick and Amanda at their apartment for a final evening glass of pre-dinner champagne. Then it was off to Les Closeries des Lilas for our final meal - and wow, was it a good one.

Another old Hemingway haunt, Les Closeries is a pretty, pretty place on the Boulevard du Montparnasse. We sat in the glass-walled (and glass-ceilinged) dining room, which was surrounded, outside, by greenery (and where a tree sits, in the middle of the dining room, growing up and out through the ceiling).

Dinner was the kind of refined meal that's perfect for a final night of vacation. Linen tablecloths, well-educated and perfectly charming waiters and sommeliers, someone to make sure your crumbs are swept away between courses (seriously, I am such a messy eater. I love that.).

We started with glasses of Chablis and two types of oysters - our first and only on this trip - with a mignonette so perfect that it had to be French. Sadly, I didn't write down the types of oysters we tried - though I know that six of them were papillons and six were...something else. We didn't order belons, I know that.

Though I don't remember the names, I do remember that they were smaller, more delicate, and less salty than our usual fare. We eat so many big, meaty Chesapeake oysters and super-salty Northeastern varieties that anything on the delicate side is a treat. (Not that I mind salty oysters...I just like a variety.)

After oysters, Cooper and I shared a pigeon pastilla, an old school preparation of pigeon with spices and nuts, wrapped in pastry. The flavor was great and overall, the dish had a banquet-at-a-medieval-castle vibe that I found very likable.

Patrick and Amanda couldn't resist the foie, which is served with bright, pretty mango (as a side note, even though he lives in Paris, Patrick puts away foie like someone who's about to get on a plane to one of those cities where it's banned).

For dinner, Cooper had sweetbreads - he loves them so much - while Patrick, Amanda and I were all a little boring with our orders of Hemingway steak. It's a filet served with a savory brown sauce - supposedly just how Hemingway liked it during his Paris days. After trying his burger, I can see how he'd like the rich sauce that covered the steak. I liked it, too. A lot.

Then cheese. Two milder goat cheeses and one awesomely funky camembert that Cooper couldn't handle (he is not a fan of the stinky cheese). Two cheese-ending meals in one day. So good.

With all of that, we drank a lovely bottle of Chateau La Chapelle-Lescours from Saint Emilion. Then Cooper and Patrick closed out the night with glasses of Armagnac - and we ordered dessert. Profiteroles for us and a "coupe Matisse" for Patrick and Amanda (a sundae of sorts...but way more complicated than that).

And then - even more. A plateful of madeleines and strawberry was our final goodbye and with it, we were off to say au revoir to Patrick and Amanda (who we won't see until next time they come to Baltimore...which won't be until next year) and to head back to the apartment to finish packing and try to get some rest before our Sunday morning flight.

We didn't do a great job on the rest front and our food options in the airport left a few things to be desired (namely cold drinks and friendly service) but the flight, at least, was easy and when we returned home, Dixon was crazy happy to see us.

We were thrilled to see him, too, of course, though also a little sad that the trip was behind us.

Or was it? The nice thing about a trip is that you bring home both souvenirs and memories. And we got to work, immediately, trying to recreate some of what we ate.

Which is a story for another time.

Paris Recap: Day Three

(Clockwise from top corner - also in almost chronological order of the day: Our petit dejeuner, the Eiffel Tower from the Tuileries, Cooper outside the Musee d'Orsay, an indoor market near our apartment, Cooper in the Jardin de Luxembourg, the awesome tablecloth and scarf I got at Simrane, me in the Jardin de Luxembourg, Cooper and le scarf enjoying a pre-dinner beer, escargots and fromages - our pre-dinner snack, dinner at Bistro d'Henri, the outside of Bistro d'Henri, post-prandial festivities)

When we woke up on Friday morning, we were greeted with a gray, semi-rainy Paris. Which happens in April. We persevered, pulling ourselves together and heading out into the mist to grab breakfast at a random cafe near the St. Michel metro stop.

Let's talk for a minute about the French petit dejeuner. I know it's not what real Parisians eat every morning - but I could. It's so civilized and perfectly delicious. Fresh orange juice, a croissant and/or baguette with butter and jelly, and a big cup of coffee? Yes please. Granted, it's not exactly packed with protein...but it is delicious.

After breakfast, we headed over to the Jardin de Tuileries to walk around a bit - it's pretty there. Unfortunately, during the time we spent ambling around the garden, every other tourist in Paris was getting in line at the Musee d'Orsay. That was our next planned stop...until we saw the line.

Instead, we hired a rickshaw bike to take us over to the Eiffel Tower. It was a good move - a nice slow ride through the more governmenty part of the Left Bank. As we rode, it started to rain in earnest, but we were covered.

At the Eiffel Tower, the lines moved quickly but the crowds were kind of oppressive. Our original plan was to go all the way to the top but after seeing the crowd and the line for the elevator on the middle level (where you have to stop), we decided we'd gone high enough. So many people.

After a quick stop back at the apartment (it was getting cold and I needed a costume change), we walked over to the Jardin de Luxembourg, which was only a few minutes' walk from where we were staying. It's so pretty there and we had a good time wandering around - and walking past the first Under Armour-wearing people we'd seen in Paris. They were an American family (unless Parisians have started wearing Penn State hats). When they saw Cooper, in his camo UA raincoat, they started laughing.

Post-Luxembourg, we did a little shopping - most notably the Laduree store and the Simrane shop, where I fell in love with everything I saw. I bought an amazing tablecloth that's actually big enough for our enormous dining room table. We also found a covered market just around the corner from our apartment. We didn't buy anything but still enjoyed checking out all the gorgeous French food.

Mid-shop, we stopped for a quick lunch at the Cafe de Flore - another Hemingway haunt. Cooper had an omelet, I had quiche, and everything was delicious (not a big surprise).

After the shopping, we pulled ourselves together and went out for a pre-dinner snack of escargots and fondue. Then we met Patrick and Amanda at one of their favorite restaurants, the tiny and super-charming Bistro d'Henri.

Dinner was southern French and pretty fantastic. I started with white asparagus tossed with vinaigrette (it was the season), gorgeous chateaubriand, scalloped potatoes sliced heartbreakingly thing and a lovely, eggy clafoutis.

After dinner, we stopped at an Irish pub down the street from the restaurant and had a few post-dinner beers. It was quiet when we arrived and we settled into a back corner - only to be very surprised when we got up for a second round. The bar was packed. A few more beers later, we waded through the (young) crowd and headed back to the apartment.

We needed a good night's sleep...since we had big Saturday morning plans. The flea market!

Paris Recap: Day Two

(Clockwise from top right corner: Escargots at La Cochonnaille, Chez Rene, Euro Cooper, the Arc de Triomphe, piggy menu, CRP living the dream at the Georges V, a McDonald's ad that proves that the South actually has won, Notre Dame, and in the center, me at the Louvre)

Our second day in Paris was filled with gorgeous weather. We took full advantage and spent the morning absolutely crushing the sights of the Right Bank.

We started at the Arc de Triomphe then walked down the Champs Elysees to Avenue Georges V. One of the very few things that Cooper really wanted to do in Paris was walk past the Georges V - specifically because French Kiss is one of his favorite movies. "This is the Georges V, not some backpacker's hovel."

From there, we took the metro over to the Louvre, where, as is my custom, we walked around and took some photos near the glass pyramids but we didn't even consider going in. The lines...they're scary.

We then walked up the Rue de Rivoli, which is basically like walking on a shopping street, or through a mall, in any city. On my first trip to Europe, 13 years ago, I was so psyched to find multiple H&Ms in Stockholm. We didn't have any yet in the Baltimore area. Today, with such easy access to every single chain store - either because we have one in the mall or because of the internet - streets like that lose some of their charm. Still, Parisian architecture is pretty.

After wandering around near Les Halles and even up to the Bastille area, we metroed back down to the Louvre and walked over Pont Neuf to Ile de la Cite. Then we walked up the island to Notre Dame - which was really a nice walk, especially near the big flower market.

Like the Arc and the Louvre, Notre Dame was a crazy busy mess. I've been in before and found it mesmerizing but the lines were just too long for us to wait. Still, even from the outside, it's an incredible building.

We then walked back to the Left Bank and wandered a little before hitting a cafe called La Cochonaille for lunch. It was probably our worst food decision of the trip - and we'd chosen it simply because of the piggies on the sign (which actually seemed like a totally reasonable decision).

It wasn't bad exactly - my mushroom omelet was very nice and Cooper's escargots and cassoulet (so much pork, it was hilarious) were fine. But as we left, we watched a truck unload dozens of industrial-sized cans of duck confit into the kitchen. I'm sure it was very high quality canned duck confit? No, actually, I'm not sure of that at all.

After a quick stop at Monoprix for water, gifts and a scarf for Cooper (so he could fit in with the Parisians), we settled in for a little nap before getting ready for dinner - we were meeting our friends Patrick and Amanda at a restaurant on the eastern end of the Left Bank.

We had some time to kill before dinner, so we walked a bit more and stopped for a drink in a cafe across the street from the restaurant. There, we organized the first of several photo shoots with Le Scarf - and we realized that posting pictures on Facebook while we were out drinking and all our friends were at work in the US? It's fun.

Dinner was at Chez Rene, a very charming traditional Parisian bistro. We started with gigantic - and I mean gigantic - slabs of foie gras, served with toast points. They were, seriously, unreal. Also, delicious.

For dinner, Cooper had entrecote (steak) and I opted for veal blanquettes. I love veal - any cut, any time - and I am also in love with rich white sauces. So what's not to like? The preparation was really lovely, and I couldn't even come close to finishing. (I did, however, save room for chocolate mousse.)

Which made me wonder: you hear so much about huge American portion sizes. I admit, lunches in Paris cafes weren't crazy huge (but they weren't small) - but every dinner we had was enormous. We're talking Cheesecake Factory portion sizes.

I realize that the fat American problem has other causes, too, which include processed foods, lack of walking and - let's be honest here - lack of smoking. But after this trip, I can't possibly think of portion size as solely an American problem.

But that's a discussion for another time. After dinner, it was late and Patrick and Amanda still had to work the next day. So we said our goodbyes and went home to rest up for our Parisian Friday. Which I will write about later.

Paris Recap: Day One

(Clockwise from top right corner: the menu at Brasserie Lipp, Cooper in front of the fabulous Monoprix - which is basically Target in Paris, the menu at Les Deux Magots, the remnants of our petit dejeuner, Cooper at Les Deux Magots, before the storm at Relais d'Entrecote, wine in the apartment, mid-dinner Relais d'Entrecote, towing in France, a sign mixing fish with Mimi - who is also our niece. In the center: flowers at a shop on the Rue Bonaparte.)

We are back, moderately rested, and already missing our little studio on the Rue de l'Odeon in St. Germain des Pres. We had such a great vacation - it was short but tres, tres sweet.

I have so much to write about - it's a little overwhelming, honestly. To make things easier, I'll write a single post about each day, then a wrap-up post with some overall observations and commentary. This will happen over the course of...well, who knows? I've been on vacation, which means I've got some catching up to do, work-wise.

So, to start - we left on a Tuesday afternoon, flying direct from Dulles to Charles de Gaulle. (As a side note, Vino Volo, the airport wine bars? Not bad!). We both slept poorly on the plane, though Cooper was pleased to watch a couple movies, and when we arrived in Paris at 7 a.m. on Wednesday, we weren't exactly feeling refreshed.

Still, the airport experience was about as easy as could be and the drive into the city was uneventful, despite rush hour traffic. Cooper's high school friend, Patrick, lives in Paris (he gave us tons of advice - including suggesting we stay in St. Germain des Pres - AND made all of our dinner plans). We couldn't check into our apartment until 1 p.m., so we headed to the place Patrick shares with his girlfriend, Amanda, to stow our luggage and say hello.

With that taken care of, Patrick headed to work and we hit the town, walking around St. Germain a bit before stopping for a restorative croissant and coffee. After another quick walk, we decided the croissant wasn't enough, so we settled in for a proper lunch at Les Deux Magots, the storied cafe on the Rue de St. Germain - a favorite Hemingway haunt.

The weather was gorgeous, so we sat outside on the patio, which feels private, thanks to high shrubbery, but still central to the city. I hadn't been before and thought it might be touristy - and maybe it was but it was still fabulous.

I ordered a glass of rose and Cooper had a Heineken, then we settled into our meals. For me, a tomato quiche that could not have been creamier, with perfectly flaky pastry, plus the sort of light green salad that everyone in Paris effortlessly produces. For Cooper, an omelet with ham that was the perfect introduction to the French genius with les oeufs. He was so tired...but totally happy.

After lunch, we realized we were going to pass out, so we went back to Patrick's for a little nap. Then we woke up, took a cab to our apartment, and took another nap. Nothing too long - just an hour or so. I unpacked and then we started to get a good look at our new home for the next few days.

We rented a studio apartment via airbnb - and I would do it again in a heartbeat. It wasn't big - but it was bigger than most of the hotel rooms in Paris. Plus, for the neighborhood, it was an absolute steal. The view was lovely and it was so close to everything we needed.

After our naps, we took a walk, walking down the Seine, checking out the crazy taxidermy and general oddies at Deyrolle, and stopping for a drink and the Crottin de Chavignol (tangy goat cheese served with cumin seed) at Brasserie Lipp (Hemingway haunt #2).

We then made our way to Relais d'Entrecote, which Patrick suggested as a good choice for our first night in Paris. (Knowing we'd be tired, he and Amanda both worked late on Wednesday then had dinner with us for the rest of the trip.)

Relais d'Entrecote doesn't take reservations and people start lining up well before its 7 p.m. opening. At 6:30, we were first in line - but we were only alone for about a minute. By the time the restaurant opened, there was a healthy line stretching down the block.

Understandable, too. It's not the typical Parisian dining experience - at Relais d'Entrecote, you get salad, steak frites and dessert. Your only choices are what to drink, what to have for dessert and how done you want your steak. That was exactly the amount of thinking we were in the mood to do our first night in France. We were tired.

Not surprisingly, the one thing they do, they do well. The fries were crispy and thin (McDonalds-esque - and I say that in a good way) and the steak was sliced thin and cooked perfectly. It's served with a fantastic sauce that I'm pretty sure includes lots of butter, something like anchovy, maybe some Dijon mustard and possibly parsley (something green). It was so good and I need to try to replicate it before I've lost the taste memory.

For dessert, we had a little strawberry custard tart - and I remembered that strawberries in France are, justifiably, legendary. So sweet, so juicy, so perfect.

After dinner, we stumbled back to our apartment, stopping at the wine shop/bar across the street to pick up a bottle of spicy red. When in France and on vacation, right? We each had a glass and fell into bed, exhausted, before 10 p.m.

Which was fine, since we had a big day ahead of us the next day, starting with the Arc de Triomphe and getting bigger from there. Stay tuned for that...

Paris

This is about to happen: 

See you soon, Eiffel Tower!

Flashback Tuesday: Duck 2013

I'm calling it. I'm giving up on"Vintage Tuesday." I'll keep posting on Tuesdays (or Wednesdays, it seems) and maybe some of those posts will be "vintage"...but I'm trying to be realistic here. A whole year of vintage posts just isn't happening. Even though I have at least a year's worth of vintage stuff in my house.

This week, instead, I've finally pulled together a short post about our trip to Duck last summer. Yes, it does feel cruel to think about the beach - and it was such a hot year at the beach, too - when we're about to get slammed with another snowstorm. But that's just human nature.

So, here it is - our beach week:

Links: Fat Canary, pork and chorizo burgers, Sunset Grille, Stack 'Em High Pancakes, Duck Donuts.

The Dos & Don'ts of Keuka Lake Wine Tasting

We are just back from our third annual wine tasting trip around Keuka Lake. At this point, I feel confident that we are experts. To cement that status, here are our dos and don'ts of Keuka wine tasting:

This year, only Cooper, Alicia, Mike and I could make it. On Friday night, we went out to dinner then stayed up waaaay too late. Saturday, we had lunch at Bully Hill then hit two of our favorite wineries from years past: Keuka Spring and McGregor.

We rounded out the evening with a trip to the awesomely divey bar, The Switz, and a visit to The Olney Place for provisions and to say hi to the proprietor, Seth, an old friend of Alicia's family.

Overall, we had a blast - as usual. Lots of laughing, one dip in the lake (Cooper) and lots of wine - some of it good, even.

Can't wait to go back next year.