King Tut Exhibit NYC

Westlake Chowder House Montauk NY

Seared Tuna Steak over Sesame Noodles with Cucumber Salad in soy miso glaze and broth

Fresh Ricotta Gnocchi over chilled puree of peas & basil oil

2nd Course At Alloro NYC

Eggplant Parmigiana Traditional & Revisited

At Alloro Nyc

In the name of love... the Western Omelette

This may not look like much to you, but for me, it is a beacon of light on a dreary morning. It's components are simple, consisting of eggs, ham, peppers, & onions- yet when combined they become a force for any hangover to contend with. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall you can find me placing an order in a diner or deli for the incredible, edible, hell- just plain magical Western Omelette!

I've been consuming this American staple since I was a wee little babe, & it amazes me that I still never tire of it. With the fluffy yellow eggs, the crunchy slightly cooked down peppers & onions, and the savory smoky ham, I think it's something that will always be part of my diner favorites.

Honestly, it's one of the most perfect foods out there to be consumed. I know that my taste can come off as a little... "fancy" but at the heart of it all, I'm just a slightly pudged out little girl who loves to eat good food no matter WHAT its origins!

It's been a while...

I haven't written in a while. Yet, I've had a LOT to write about. This past month I've experienced WONDERFUL music performances, and have eaten at a lot of exceptional restaurants.

So, why haven't I written about them?

Well, I felt a little jaded about my skills as a writer. About a month ago, I attended a class titled "How to be a Food Writer". I thought that is what the class would be about, you know, LEARNING HOW TO WRITE ABOUT FOOD. I thought I would get a better understanding of the nature of executing a food related piece. Which I suppose was my first mistake. It was really just a class to massage the ego of an already established food journalist whose skills as a writer were far superior to everyone else's ESPECIALLY when applying grammar. All of our pieces were trite and feeble attempts to describe the food we ingested. Her shrill nagging voice expressed disdain between her every exasperated breath. The roll of her eyes behind her stylish frames mirrored her distaste. In baser terms, she was a know-it-all- and although she may have known a LOT about food, I didn't feel she imparted as much wisdom as she could've. There was an air of pompousness about her that made any information she was giving out seem... invalid. Clearly, I have a hard time taking arrogance seriously.

In regards to my work, she said that "There was a lack of accuracy", and that I was fixated more on the words than the food, and that I especially didn't use enough COMMAS. This was in reference to an assignment she had given to us FIVE MINUTES BEFORE. I am amazed that she didn't complain about the handwriting! All these special circumstances aside, her criticism of my work seemed fair and informative to me, even if I despised her attitude and approach as a "teacher". The fact of the matter is, she was NOT a teacher. A teacher is someone who provides guidance and instruction about it, while giving constructive criticism. It is also important that they understand that a person is still LEARNING, otherwise they wouldn't be in a class to
begin with.

This woman failed to recognize this concept. MOST teachers fail to recognize this concept, and this is why more people don't pursue their passions. How are we to excel, grow, or evolve without true guidance and a nurturing attitude? I've let the negativity of this 2 day class permeate my enthusiasm for writing. I tried to separate the wisdom imparted from her brazen and
offensive attitude. It has perhaps been a feeble attempt, but it was an attempt all the same. I need to step up my game, and care more. I was (and admittedly still AM) writing in a vacuum, and it's time I started taking more time thinking, reading, and especially EDITING my work. Also, maybe I use caps-locks to emphasize a point too often. I don't think I am ready to pitch anything, but I think I am ready to take another class and see how it goes.

In the meantime, expect a rash of reviews, commentaries, and ramblings, until I catch up fully.

Joanna Newsom at Town Hall

Have you ever been whisked away by an enchanting sound? Has a melody for no clear reason made you well up and blubber like a new born babe for minutes until its end, where, you were left in quiet solace, only wishing to be moved like that again? Has a simple strum of a note led you to a toadstool ring at the top of a hill surrounded by a forest full of faeries where you ended up dancing inside your own head until the music stopped?

If the answer is, "Yes", then- I thought I recognized you! You were at the Joanna Newsom concert in town hall, right? Wasn't it amazing? Isn't she beautiful? Oh, what an affair I have with this pixie of a woman and her sounds. Every squeak of her voice, pluck of her harp, a wave in her hair enchants me, and makes me feel a little less human... and a little more mystical. She's MY more accessible version of Loreena McKennit. Hipster be damned- I love her!

Her show at Town Hall a few weeks left me dumb struck. It wasn't as vast an orchestration as I had witnessed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music a few years ago- no- quite contrary to it in fact. This performance was intricate in its talent but simple in its presentation. I felt like I was in an cozy Narnian cave with her, hanging out, and drinking nectar, as opposed to the BAM show, where I felt like I was sitting council with Gandalf and all of Middle Earth.

There was an intimacy imparted that evening that I hadn't felt at a concert in ages. Joanna was humble, conversational, and inspiring. The pensive silence of the audience only further reflected the mood on the stage. There was a quiet reverence enveloping every person in the red velvet lined Town Hall that evening. It made it embarrassing to do anything but listen (hence the lack of images). Frankly, it was a nice change of pace for me, it forced me to zero in on the music and its core emotion rather than focusing on the "chores" I've established for myself. Besides, I feared photographing her for the sheer risk of revealing her true fae nature.

On a personal note, this woman moves me to a silent hysteria. I thought this time she wouldn't get me, well, I was wrong. I made it through 5 songs unaffected... that is until "Kingfisher". The strings, the harp, her voice it was sheer aural peace. My soul flew out of my gaping mouth, my throat swelled with emotion, and my eyes began a steady stream of tears. My cheeks were soaked by the end of the set, and all I could think was "Play On". Bless yourself with the grace of her music. Let her take you away from the ugliness of the city, and find peace in the sound.

Jackrabbits
Have One on Me
Easy
Soft as Chalk
Inflammatory Writ
Kingfisher
The Book of Right-On
Autumn
Emily
Peach, Plum, Pear
Baby Birch