Shooting Up... and Cracking Up

If you didn't get enough of a buzz from Thanksgiving cocktails here's something else creating a little holiday buzzzzz. It's the Season Shot. The first ammo that shoots, kills and seasons wild bird game all in one “shot.”

Once your mouth closes from the shock factor, have a giggle (or a gobble) and let's ponder. I am not a hunter, so I am unable to give feedback from that perspective, but from what I gather it seems like a good idea. It makes sense, but is it a little too outrageous?

From the bit of research I have done, Season Shot does not seem to be on the market and the site is extremely vague about when it will be. The site claims to have various flavors of ammo that will be available including honey mustard and lemon pepper but there are no details on how or where to order it.

Because of the overall lack of details, there are many folks who claim the whole thing a hoax. Either way it’s worth a look so check it out for yourself.

http://www.seasonshot.com/

Guaranteed Frustration: Check out the FAQ page. All of the frequently asked questions have answers that take you right back to the questions section and tell you check back later. Hmmmmm.

Compare Notes: My favorite page has to be the ammo-off page of the website. Where they show why Season Shot is better than the typical ammo. My favorite comparison is that Season Shot leaves "no shot left in the bird to chip your teeth.” Whereas “traditional ammo forces you to breast your bird losing time and meat.”

Final Dish: I don't hunt or prepare my own wild game but if I did... I would certainly want to be able to eat my game as quickly as possible without losing any teeth. I am considering taking up hunting just to try this product. Well, if it actually exists anyway.

Liquid Thanksgiving

After completing our Thanksgiving meal. I unveiled a gift from a friend. It was a Jones Soda Holiday Pack. The flavors were mouthwatering options including; Dinner Roll, Turkey and Gravy, Pea, Sweet Potato and Antacid.

Here are the reactions from my family.

Dinner Roll:

"It tastes like an orange cream soda."
"It's really buttery, as a dinner roll should be."
"Is the goal here for it to taste like an actual dinner roll or a soda that tastes like a dinner roll?"

Turkey and Gravy:

"Oh god, that's bad."
"That tasted nothing like turkey and gravy. I know because I just ate turkey and gravy."
"That is disgusting."
"Are you actually disappointed that it tasted nothing like turkey and gravy? I am."
"It activates your gag reflex."
"It smells like turkey and gravy, but doesn't taste like turkey and gravy."
"I'm sticking to champagne. Cause it tastes like champagne." (from my mother who was not participating in the tasting.)
"It tastes like Necco Wafers."
"Yeah, like dirty Necco Wafers."
"My turkey tastes like my dinner roll."

Pea:

"It actually tastes like pea."
"Like pea or pee?"
"Like pea. I wouldn't know about pee. I've never tasted urine."
"It's very sweet."
"So it's like sweet pea?"
"We actually found something with sugar in it that Megan doesn't like."
"I can't get the bad taste out of my mouth."
"It has an after taste like maple candy, it was actually drinkable."
"Pea is drinkable, but not the turkey."

Sweet Potato:

"It looks like a N-Hi soda." (Another comment from my non-participating mother. I have no clue what she is talking about.)
"It smells like chemicals. But good chemicals."
"This is the least disgusting."
"It's tastes like sweet potatoes."
"It's like bubbly, sugary, sweet-potato-ness."

Antacid:

"It's tastes like that fluoride stuff they made you swish in third grade."
"Why would anyone purchase this?"
"This one's not so bad."
"I could make myself drink this if I had to."
"It's sort of minty."

Overall Comments:

"If I ever had to have a liquid Thanksgiving, this may be something I would have."
"With a little booze in it, it would be much better."
"I want to order this at the bar. "Can I please have a Captain and dinner roll with a side of pea?"
"Nothing goes with Jack like a little turkey and gravy."


Fun fact: Proceeds of this Holiday Pack benefit Toys for Tots.
Another fun fact: All sodas are completely vegetarian, certified kosher, and contain zero caffeine, calories, and carbs.

Press release://www.jonessoda.com/stockstuff/pdf_documents/2006/holiday-pack-PR-2006.pdf
For more information and how to buy some for yourself check out http://www.jonessoda.com/files_new/turkey06.html

Puppy Chow for Kids?

At first glance it appears that these treats are for your pooch. With a name like “Kooky Chews” a doggie logo and brown meat-like bits and colorful bones you would this it is a standard puppy snack. Until you realize they are in the candy isle and the small print reads; “Cookies and Candy for Kids.”

The gross-factor could win points with the kiddies but guys... this candy is not a good choice for your lady. Unless, of course, she has a sense of humor. Dishes come in red and green for the holidays.

We found this one at a local WaWa. Check them out online at http://www.kokos.com/ or

http://www.kokos.com/products/fullsize_action_areas/kooky.htm

Scammed by Ben. And his friend Jerry.

Ben and Jerry are promoting a special on feature flavors, but if you aren't careful it's not so special. Signs are posted on freezer sections at local grocery and convenience stores that advertise two flavors; Vanilla Crème Caramel and American Apple Pie. For a limited time, these specialty pints are $1.00 less than the other Ben and Jerry varieties.

While this seems innocent enough, be sure to read the labels carefully. The sign says “American Apple Pie” but the actual ice cream pint reads “American Pie”. The ingredients and artwork are the same. The only difference is that the word “Apple” is missing from the actual label.

When you go to purchase your pint the register won't recognize the discount and the manager can't do anything about it. Believe us… WC Dish tried it.

The Apple Pie flavor was very tasty, but it may have tasted sweeter if it were actually on sale. Ice cream lovers beware, read labels carefully. And eat your ice cream responsibly.

Homeward Bound

Here is a series of emails from my mother for our family Thanksgiving meal planning. They made me laugh. Mmmm... Dad's famous Jello Salad.


Hello, Children and Significant Others!
Here's the update on Thanksgiving - if you can fill in any of the ??? below, let us know!
- Our Thanksgiving dinner will be at (home address) on Saturday, mid-to-late-afternoon.
- Sue, Richard, Emily and Lovey will be coming - not sure what day they'll arrive, but they'll go back on Sunday - they will be staying at a motel.
- Uncle Bob and Kelly will not be coming - he has a charter boat tour to conduct and she will be at her mother's.
- Martha, Eric and kids will be at Eric's Parent's on Thursday and part of Friday, then go to Christmas parade Friday and come here to spend Friday night.
- Sarah and Susan will be in New York with Susan's parents, coming home ??? (Saturday?)
- Andrew and Megan will be in Pittsburgh with Megan's family; Andrew will come back for the dinner on Saturday, Megan may stay in Pittsburgh for several more days???
- (wcdish) will be here for the Saturday dinner - not sure whether she'll be here any sooner???

Thanksgiving menu:
Mom will make a turkey, stuffing, gravy, corn pudding, and spinach and artichoke casserole; we'll also get some frozen mashed potatoes (which are actually pretty good) unless somebody really wants to make them from scratch; Dad will make a jello/fruit salad.

We'll have plenty of food, but anyone who's so inclined is welcome to add your own favorite casserole or vegetable or dessert - or a breakfast dish for Sunday morning. Just let me know what ingredients you need and I'll have them here.

Did I leave anything out?
Love you all!
Mom

Second email:

For Thanksgiving, Sue and Richard plan to bring "champagne for drunken game playing," so get ready for some Catch Phrase! Also - for those planning to attend the Christmas parade, it will be on Saturday night at 7:00 rather than on Friday night this year.

Dad and I are looking forward to having us all together!
We love you all!
Mom

Final email: (Being the only one in the family without a significant other, and because we will be eating as a family on Saturday, I will be joining my mother and father for a Thanksgiving buffet at a local restaurant. I'm fine with this.. the menu looks amazing.)

Our Thanksgiving buffet dinner reservations are for 4:00 pm on Thursday. We should plan to leave home around 3:30. Among other choices they have smoked turkey breast with raspberry chutney, Virginia baked ham, crab imperial, honey cajun salmon, talapia, and a chilled artichoke and crab salad. What time do you plan to get here?

Also - Do you know what days you'll get off at Christmas?
Love ya!
Mom

To be continued...

Due to a data problem the content for the remaining days of the Skittle adventure has been lost. Please stay tuned for the remaining details of the trip to be posted. In the meantime here are some pictures to help tell the story.

Here is a game to play: Match the caption with the picture

- Want it for Christmas. Ingenious.

- Perhaps the most amazing rice pudding I've ever had (sorry mom)

- VA transportation

- Heaven dipped grapes

Clever Marketing

The skittles took us out of Floyd and lead us North. We were low on gas so we stopped at the next station.

The advertisement for subs was incredibly tempting but I walked out with a fried pie. The girl at the register said that strawberry and cream cheese was the best flavor. She was right. Even though it weighed a ton, the crust was surprisingly light and airy. The filling combination reminded me of Toaster Strudels that I used to eat in Jr. High. This was a very good thing.

After a few bites we buckled up and forged on.

Quote of the hour: After washing my hands in the gas station restroom. “Seriously, smell my hands. They smell like a man. Or man-soap or something.”

Local Banking

Somehow I took a wrong turn (almost impossible in a town like Floyd) and had to turn around in a bank parking lot. Only I couldn’t turn around. The lot looped around into a traffic line headed for the bank window. I was second in line at the window. As the truck in front of me pulled away, I drove up to the speaker.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The bank girl behind the glass window said. (I could swear she was the girl from Ray’s that “gets crazy when she gets a few drinks in her.” But I couldn’t be sure.)

“Um, hello. Is there a local farmer’s market in town?”

“A what? ”

“You know like local produce, flowers, baked goods. Do you do anything like that here?”

“Oh. Produce, well you can find organic produce and groceries at the Harvest Moon Food Store, or you can get regular produce at the Food Lion. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” I withheld the temptation to ask for a lollypop, giggled to my friend that it seemed like a normal request to the bank teller and slowly drove away in the direction of the Harvest Moon.

This proved to be a great stop. The downstairs was a full grocery store of organic, natural, gluten-free and other specialty foods. The upstairs was the Over The Moon Gallery and coffee shop. I shopped my heart out in the Harvest Moon Food store and tasted all the glorious samples and then made my way upstairs.

My friend and I are big local art fans and mug users (she drinks tea and hot chocolate, I drink tea, coffee, hot chocolate, cider, melted ice cream, etc.) so we both were smitten with the handmade Republic of Floyd mugs. We each had to own one.

The collection of other art was creative and extensive. The sweet staff was helpful in telling the artists tales of the pottery, jewelry, prints, scarves and tea sets. After checking out the art we explored the lovely coffee bar and bakery.

The baked goods display case was bursting with homemade healthy or sinful treats. Luckily they had samples so I could taste a bit without feeling too guilty about being sedentary in a car. As samples are a pretty good indicator, it's safe to say that everything from this bakery is delicious.

My friend bought me a cup of coffee (I switched to decaf) and hot chocolate for her. We said goodbye to the ladies at the coffee shop and stopped to pose for some silly pictures with the lawn sculptures out front.

Quote of the afternoon: From Jason, a friendly local we met in the gallery coffee shop. He noticed us on his way past us snapping pics of us with lawn art. "Hey... I thought you were trying to fit in around here? (He laughed) You may want to lose the camera and John Deere Hat."

Knock, Knock

Someone was knocking on the door. I slowly opened my eyes, rolled out of bed and poked my spinning head out the door. I squinted in the blaring Saturday sunshine to see a lady with a handkerchief on her head. At first I guessed that she was a misguided guest in the senior living portion of our lodge. Then I noticed the cleaning cart at her side. We had slept past our check out time. She told me she was sorry to wake us up but “I have to get in here to clean the room or I’ll get fired.”

We skipped a much needed shower, threw on our Dollar General sunglasses, our gas station purchased hats (I wore a bright green John Deere hat and my friend rocked a Trucker USA one) and tossed our belongings in our bags.

We loaded the car and headed toward the stoplight to look for a place that served breakfast. It was 11:35 am, and we soon discovered the challenge of finding breakfast in Floyd after 11:00am. Skittles told us that The Blue Ridge Restaurant had the best "hot" breakfast in town. We tried unsuccessfully to talk them into serving us eggs and such. The lunch menu looked decent but being a huge breakfast fan I couldn’t go without it two days in a row, even if we were in a small town. So we kept looking.

Eventually we stumbled on a place called The Café Del Sol. This coffee shop and café was to be our home for the next three hours. The interior looked as though it had been airlifted from a trendy college town and planted right in the middle of nowhere, or well… Floyd, VA. Piles of baked goods lined the counter and hip furniture filled the space. A blackboard with colorful chalk writing listed the selection of organic and flavored coffee and teas beverages. It also listed tempting “creative cuisine.”

A section of the menu read “Start your morning at anytime” and listed (to my relief) breakfast burritos, bagel sandwiches and other savory morning treats. We successfully found coffee, wireless Internet and breakfast. Perfecto.

I munched on a delicious veggie burrito with fresh fruit. My friend had her very first breakfast burrito with ham. We left once we successfully lounged off our hangovers and I began making money on my bottomless coffee refills.

A Town Called Floyd

We had nowhere to stay when we crossed the Floyd city limits around 7:30 pm Saturday evening. In search of accommodations we did what anyone else would do. We went to the local Dollar General. The yellow pages had exactly three options under the heading “Lodging.” The first listing was a motel/senior assisted living center. It was also the only place within walking distance of local food and nightlife. I used the store telephone to see if they had availability. The woman on the other end said she would need to check on it and call me back. My cell phone had spotty service, so she said she said she would reach me at the Dollar General.

I killed some time and used the restroom. The staff lent the employee only keys to me so that I could use the facility. I then proceeded to lock them in the restroom. After many apologies I shopped for over-oversized sunglasses with my friend. We each found an amazingly huge pair. Soon enough a call came and the employees at the store yelled, “It’s for you,” which got some puzzled looks from other customers. The lodge had vacancy and we had an official a room at Oak Haven Lodge/Senior Assisted Living.

After getting settled into our quaint room at the lodge, a skittle told us to check out a local place called Odd Fellas for live entertainment and good eats. Here is what we discovered.

Floyd is an amazing mix of down-home mountain folk and organically grown middle-aged hippies. The two subcultures blend to create a town where one can find homestyle or gourmet cooking as well as trendy coffee shops or local blue-collar bars.

The Odd Fellas owner, Rob, was an actor from California. He purchased the place five years ago and moved to this one stop-light town in Southwestern VA with his family.

I asked for the recipe for the root vegetable soup that rocked my world. I also had an organic salad with free-range chicken. The feta garlic dressing was homemade and super yum. My friend got a chimichanga that “could feed a family of four.” She did alright packing away the deep fried goodness filled with rice, chicken, cheese, black beans and topped with Pico de Gallo sauce. I’m not sure which was yummier, the food or the guy jamming on the bass.

After dinner we headed toward the local general store for the Friday night jamboree. Two words. Culture. Shock. Or maybe I should say …Over, and Alls. Or maybe… Crazy. Mountain. Folk. Wait, that’s three words.

At first we tried to blend in to the crowd of tap-shoe-stomping cowboys, couples and sweating, middle-aged men. Then we realized there was no way to pretend to be one of them. We soon became the most popular girls in the room. The sweating men invited us onto the dance floor and showed us how to dance like a local. I did my best to stomp and kick like the skinny awkward cowboy who kept bumping into my friend. A man I met at the dollar store swung me around to the beat of the mountain music.

Though we had many potential suitors, my heart belonged to a local three-year-old named Andrew who only liked to dance “to the fast music.” Words cannot truly capture the experience (But I have a home video that can).

We were a little intimidated by the prospect of drinking in a strange town, but it was a Friday night so we decided to hit up a local bar. As the jamboree ended we had our choice of three drinking holes. 1- Whiskers, a smoky place across the street. 2- The beer-filled cooler in my trunk at the lodge. 3- Ray’s.

We chose Ray’s. We parked my Subaru next to the gun-rack laden pick-up trucks parked out front. We sat at the bar and it wasn’t long before several local guys struck up conversations and drinks began appearing in front of us. I tasted a local favorite brew called a Red Eye. This was a draft mug of Budweiser that was topped off with a hearty pour of tomato juice as it finished filling from the tap. I was pleasantly surprised.

Our bartender Leanna consulted us on who to we should steer clear of or continue talking to. We met Randy, a local baker who I hoped to visit the next day. Jim, who had an amazing amount of data storage in his cell phone to show me rolls of pictures of his home projects (before and afters), horses, goats and his dog and cat. Patrick failed to notice my friend’s wedding ring and left his number on a bill for her. Dean bought us beers. Doug was a local teacher and had a wicked John Deere hat on. Then, there was the local girl who “gets crazy when she has a few drinks in her.” And our personal favorite was Vic, a hot cop who was in town hunting for the weekend. I’m not sure if it was the mustache or his camo pants that made him irresistible, but he had our attention all night. That’s all I’ll say.

Local eats, check. Local culture, check. Local drinks, check, check, check, check, check, check. Almost forgot… check, check.

Quote of the night: Sitting in the car outside of Ray’s after our introduction to the locals at the jamboree. “Okay, we’ll go in for one drink. That’s it. And we aren’t talking to anybody.”

Before Floyd

The wine had warmed my belly and the sunny day warmed my entire body. We drove down a narrow road with a roaring river to our right and a cliff with small but impressive waterfalls to our left. We were on our way to… well we didn’t really know where. I think we were still looking for some sort of breakfast but it was almost 2:30 pm. We stopped for a bit to snap a few pics at the scenic overlook over the Maury River near Goshen, VA.

Our skittles led us to a small café in Goshen. The screen door slammed behind us as we walked in. A table of four hunters stopped eating and stared. Two older gentlemen sat in a booth to our left and stopped their conversation. This place was perfect.

We walked up to the counter, complete with milkshake machines from the 50s, a pie case from the 40s and eventually, a waitress from a decade before that.

She didn’t find us right away. One of the four hunters yelled into the kitchen, “Margie, someone’s here.” She called us honey and recommended the day’s special of baked chicken served with two vegetables and a roll. We both got it. I had a side of greens and green beans, my friend got coleslaw and mashed potatoes with gravy on the side.

I think the thing I loved the most about the meal were the pats of butter that were served with the rolls. I’ve only ever experienced them at old-fashioned chicken-dinner fundraisers in my hometown. A perfectly proportioned slice of butter is sandwiched between a firm white square of paper and a thin sheet of wax paper. The heat from your fingertips help to melt the butter right away and make it ideal for spreading. I love this.

For dessert we had the apple pie a la mode and a small chocolate milkshake. Both were made from scratch and served with love from Margie. Good ole Margie.

A few skittles later and we were headed to Floyd. A very small dot on our map off of route 81 S.

Quote of the day: From Tony, an 89-year-old hearing-impaired WW I vet who joined us at the counter. "Look right there, that's my birthday, born July 4th, 1918. Now you can tell your friends you met a real Patriot."

A Pinch of Flour and a Splash of Wine

When we checked into our motel for $48.00 with my AAA card. I saw a sign that said. Complimentary breakfast buffet 6:00am- 9:00 am. A handwritten sign was attached that read “homemade waffles.” I briefly considered staying up another hour or so to be first in line. Instead we requested an 8:15 am wake up call.

When the call came even the thought of warm waffles with whipped cream and berries wasn’t enough to roll out of my sleeping bag. (Our hotel was not the best of accomodations... we felt safer in our sleeping bags.) We didn’t emerge from our hotel room until 10:15 am.

We were in search of breakfast. The hotel staff recommended Cracker Barrel but we wanted something with a little more umph. Instead we turned down the side road towards The Rockbridge Vineyard. Who says you can’t drink before noon? It’s amazing how tipsy you can get with all those little samples of wine. We tasted Merlots, Chardonnays, dry whites, blushes, Rieslings, and ice wines while we snacked on locally made cheddar cheese and crackers. Our wine guide was a handsome middle-aged gentleman who was friendly, patient and helpful. We felt so good about the experience that we left with a full case of wine. This was one of the best breakfasts I’ve had in a long time.

The staff at the winery recommended Wades Mill, a local flour and grit mill and herb farm three miles down the road from the winery. They apparently had a great selection of bread mixes, flours and kitchen supplies. Perfect.

I gathered a spoon bread mix, buckwheat pancake mix, a pretty Chinese pattern bowl (that is perfect for my morning cereal) and a flexi-cutting board that I keep seeing on the Food Network and had to have for my own. The inside of the renovated, historic mill was lightly dusted with flour from the days work. It was a fully functional mill with some amazing treats and kitchen goods. The grounds were as charming as the building on this beautiful November day. The working waterwheel outside was the icing on this adorable cake.

Quote of the day: (from a sweet older lady who was sipping wines with us.) “Now, I don’t think I like this one, but Emeril would say this one would go well with fish.”

Caffeine Extreme

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Not a clue” I replied, content with having no idea where we were going, or how to get there.

And with that my friend and I loaded the last of our gear into my trunk and waved goodbye. We drove down the street, which led to a tollbooth that turned into a tunnel and eventually landed us on 95 South. We had yet to follow our skittles cue to ask a local where to eat so we exited at the first rest stop.

I realized that the odds of finding a “local” at a rest stop is rare (unless they are working the information booth.) However, a young couple walking through the parking area caught my eye and I decided they would be our guide.

I cracked my window and did my best to not look like a total creep as I flagged them down. After asking if they knew a good place to eat they replied, in a heavy, I guessed Polish, accent that they were not from the area. Curious if it was Polish I asked where they hailed from, they replied New Jersey. Interesting.

We kept driving. The skittles directed us toward Richmond, VA. Around 1:15am they led us to a Wendy’s.

I will eat any cheese on the planet, except American cheese. There is only one situation when I will, when it’s on the Jr. Cheeseburger Deluxe on the Wendy’s 99 cent value menu. I savor every bite. I rarely get fast food, but this burger, with lettuce, tomato, mustard, ketchup, onion and pickles, is always worth it one or two times a year. We stopped at a nearby gas station to fill up. Only I didn’t need fuel, I was in need of coffee.

I interrupted the conversation about local strip clubs between ladies behind the counter and some passing-through truckers to ask about the “caffeine-extreme” coffee.

“Have you ever had your hair stand up on your neck?” was the reply from the trucker with the camo hat. I shook my head that I hadn’t. “Well you’ll find out what it feels like if you get yourself a cup of that.” I got a large with crème and sugar. Afterall, I was driving.

My non-caffeine drinking friend commented that if I drank it all “wouldn’t it make you stay up all night?”

“Isn’t that the point?” I replied.

At 3:15am we were belting out to 80’s music on our custom mixes. The roads were drying up and the sky was crisp and clear. Eventually we stopped at a Days Inn to get some sleep at around 4:30am. We planned to sleep about 4 hours before hitting the road again.

So far the only problem has been the fact that collectively we have about 15 pairs of shoes but neither one of us brought toothpaste. We have gum and mint flavored floss until we stop to purchase some . With all the skittles we are eating we need to do that sooner than later.

Quote of the day: “ Is it legal to go in reverse this far down a highway?”

And the color is...

This morning a freak tornado storm ripped through North Carolina. When I woke up there were numerous storm warnings throughout Pennsylvania. The entire day had a Wizard-of-Oz, something-crazy-is-a-brewing feeling to it. It was a beautiful day for a road trip.

The plan was to meet my friend in Baltimore. (More specifically to meet at my ex boyfriend's house in Baltimore.) We would leave her car there and take mine. We hoped to head South. But it was up to the skittles to tell us.

Here are the guidelines for the trip:

Red: Stop and switch drivers (and if the environment allows, have a Chinese Fire Drill)
Yellow: Bear left
Orange: Take the next exit, find a local and ask where to find the best food in town.
Green: Bear Right
Purple: Flag down a stranger and ask which way to go. Then ask what they had to eat today and if it's close by go get it. (considering it's edible/legal.)

I'm hoping for a steady flow of Orange and Purples...

10:24pm

The car is loaded with lots of things. Including but not limited to cowboy boots, a tent, a boa, custom mixes, a yoga mat, various maps, visors, a cooler of beer (I have to remember to get ice) and two crazy, hungry girls.

The bag has been broken. The color is orange. Awesome, we get to eat. We haven't gotten far, but that's fine by me. Giddy up.

Taste the Rainbow

On Thursday, I am going on a "Skittles Road Trip" with my best friend. There are five flavors of Skittles in the traditional red bag. Lime, Grape, Lemon, Orange and Strawberry. Each color will be given a directional cue (right, take next exit, etc.) and will guide us on our journey. We are hoping to head south but we could potentially go in circles. We don't care as long as we follow our agenda.

Here is our incredibly detailed agenda:

- Stop to eat good grub en route
- Pack good eats for the car
- Explore
- Laugh
- Document everything
- Be back for work on Monday

I sent her an email today with details. Here is a copy of the email:

Hey Sparks! Here's a list for our trip. I talked to my boss today and I'm good to go. Let's talk tonight to discuss....

Gear- I will bring my tent and sleeping bag. If we can't find anywhere to stay we'll at least have a tent. Do you have a tarp? Can you bring a cooler? Toilet paper? (you never know)

Food- All food should be bought en route...and, of course, photographed. But we can and should have yumma car snacks.

Clothes- We need a hoochie outfit for going out (including dangle earrings), a tourist outfit (including a visor and fanny pack,) comfy clothes for the car, a swim suit, pjs, cowboy boots/hat (you never know), workout clothes/hiking gear and a cute dress... just in case. Underwear... don't forget underwear. Bring heels too.

Music- Should I burn cds or use your ipod? We have to have a personal soundtrack.

Maps- Should one of us go to AAA to pick up a bunch of stuff? I'm a member and they give tons of free stuff. If I do go though, what area should I ask to get maps of? Hmmmm...

Skittles- Traditional red bag or the new flavors?

Talk to you soon!

- Me


Tomorrow I will post the decided directional cues and other road trip updates. Until then I'm doing my best to not open the bag of Skittles until Thursday.

My Mother, The Rock Star

“If I were a rock star…” my mother began to say. (This was sure to be a good conversation.) "I would have that lobster BLT brought to my dressing room when I was on tour.” Statements like this reconfirm why I love my mother.

This was a bold declaration. I’d say one step lower than a last meal request and a leap higher than a birthday meal request. But I could see where she was coming from… the sandwich was amazing.

The lobster BLT she was referring to was from The Classic Diner in Malvern. The menu reads: Lobster Tail BLT served on Brioche with Avocado and “Lemon Chive” Mayo.

The day of my mother’s first “rock star” sandwich there was no dining room seating available. We had no choice but to get comfortable on stools at the counter. This wasn't my preference. Knowing that my backside is in full view of other restaurant goers while I’m trying to enjoy a meal doesn’t thrill me. I was preparing myself to go through the entire meal sucking in when I heard a voice yell “order up.” My eyes flashed towards the kitchen and I immediately forgot about holding my breath.

I discovered that while fellow diners had a view of my rear, I had a full view of the kitchen and prep area. Each culinary creation was exposed. I was able to mentally devour each order as it was marched off to a table. We had VIP seating for a food parade…

“Did you see the size of that?”
“What IS that? Get the menu; I have to see what that is”
“I hope that’s our order… oh man… we need to get that next time.”
“That pancake is seriously the size of my head. That is incredible!”

We caught glimpses of the staff plugging tree-like sprigs of mint into pancakes. They guided wooden skewers into towering eggs benedict with ping-pong-ball-sized black olives at the top. They clanked silver tumblers with special dressings onto platters as the final touch. We were able witness to it all.

When my mother’s sandwich arrived, we determined that she definately needed a knife to cut it up. It would have been impossible for her to eat it otherwise. Beautiful slices of avocado fanned out on top of the expertly prepared lobster. Ruler-sized slabs of bacon hovered over slices of tomato and lettuce and a gigantic roll hugged it all together with the help of a mammoth toothpick.

I am not sure which was more impressive; the sandwich itself or the handcrafted bites my mother made from it. She cut a bit of the bread, a sliver of tomato, a chunk of bacon, a smear of avocado and a slice of lobster. Then she topped it all with a smidgen of the citrus mayo from the silver tumbler. It was important to get all the tastes in each mouthful. Several bites and many mmmmmm’s later, the plate was cleared.

A month later when my mother came back to visit, we discussed where to go for lunch. I assumed she would want her rock star sandwich but she looked unsure.

She was pondering advice that my father had given her before she came. After sharing how much she enjoyed the sandwich he provided the following warning.

“You had it once and it was perfect. If you get it again it may not be as good the second time and then the memory won’t be as good. Just be prepared that you might be disappointed.” And this was why I loved my father.

Our stomachs appreciated this insight but completely ignored it, and another visit to The Classic Diner was made. The second visit was just as delicious as the first. Each and every carefully constructed bite was true to memory. As she polished off the last morsel I smiled; my mother may not be a rock star but she sure as hell could rock a sandwich.

Pick your own meal to have delivered to your dressing room.

The Classic Diner
325 Lancaster Avenue
Malvern, PA 19355
P: 610.725.0515
F: 610.725.9565

http://www.theclassicdinerinc.com/

The final Dish: They won county lines best breakfast in 2005 and 2006. Limited hours, long lines, crowded seating. Huge portions, amazing menu truly delicious.

Probably the Best Salad You Will Ever Have

The scent of burning cedar hit me as I walked in the door. Apparently the Kimberton Inn had a fully functioning fireplace. I observed the lobby. This white-pillared 1700’s Inn was restored and decorated in the 50’s and the interior decorator has not been back since. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The decor was a mix of colonial inn meets Great Gatsby, with a flavor of the resort from the movie Dirty Dancing; I was into it. It was historical, rustic and smelled like a campfire. A perfect place for Fall dining.

Except I wasn’t in the mood for Fall fare. I was jonesin’ for a salad. I wasn’t overly hungry but the tempting entrée descriptions could have convinced me that I was.

I scanned the menu; the first salad on the list caught my eye. “Probably the Best Salad You Will Ever Have.” This was one hell of a claim. It was comprised of “red leaf lettuce and baby spinach tossed with a sweet sesame-walnut dressing, tart apples, toasted sunflower seeds and aged Gouda cheese.” Sounded like it could be good… but the best?

I cozied up in the bar area to read the History of the Kimberton Inn by candlelight. It was summarized nicely on the back of the plastic coated menu. This was helpful information but I was more interested in the history of the name of the salad. And so I asked.

Apparently, years ago the chef had created this salad and put it on the menu, but it wasn’t selling. He felt the combination was amazing so he asked a regular customer who was a marketing guru to help name it. The customer tasted the salad and simply said, “Well I think that is probably the best salad I have ever had.” And that was it. Today, regulars and servers simply refer to it as “The Best Salad.”

This salad certainly has a following. My server admitted that she eats at least one of the salads a day. Her obsession with the mix of greens is so intense she actually had to give it up for lent.

She offered to bring some bread with my salad. I launched into a response about how I was already feeling like my pants were too tight and declined. Then a basket of bread arrived for the gentleman next to me. I watched him consume three warmed and buttered pieces, in steady succession without so much as a pause. His wife ordered for him while he ate. I thought he was a mute. I later found out that his voice was fully functional but the bread was so good he didn’t want to stop eating to talk. “We have been coming here for years,” the wife said, “and tonight was actually the first night he even let me taste the bread.” I quickly requested some bread for myself and tried not to think about my pants.

My breadbasket arrived with a fresh-from-the oven roll and a thick slice of white bread. They both were amazing but the crusty roll specked with rosemary and other bits of yumminess blew my taste buds away. (I’m still waiting on an email from the chef for the recipe.)

Then my salad arrived. It had a delicate sheen of dressing and was topped with little green sticks of apple, golden sunflower seeds and shreds of smoked Gouda. All ingredients were accounted for.

I inquired if the dressing was made in-house as I slung a napkin in my lap. “There are eleven ingredients in the dressing and they won’t tell me what they are. I’ve worked here for almost four years and I have no idea. I think they are afraid if they tell anyone no one will come here just for the salads anymore.” This whole thing was getting crazy. I couldn’t wait to eat it. And so I did.

It was light and easy to eat. Savory cheese and sunflowers balanced the tart apples, which then balanced the sweet walnut dressing. It might possibly be the most perfectly balanced salad I have ever had but the best? I won’t eat and tell. Decide for yourself.

The Kimberton Inn
2105 Kimberton Rd
Kimberton, PA 19442

www. Kimbertoninn.com

For Reservations call 610-933-8148
Dinner Hours
Tues-Sat 5:30pm-9:30pm
Sun 5:30pm-8:30pm
Sunday Brunch 11:00-2:00

The Final Dish: I know I’d be back for the amazing customer service, food, and fireplace. I took a brunch menu home with me. It looks well worth the drive on a Sunday.

Sugar Showdown

My pajama pants fit a little too well. This wasn’t a good thing. Pajama pants are supposed to be loose and comfortable.

Fed up, I decided to create a mantra. I recalled mentions from my yoga instructor, a nutrition workshop I attended a year ago, a bible school lesson from grade school and a flyer I saw at a health food store. The mantra went something like this “Tomorrow is another day. I will not give in to temptation. My body is a temple and I will rid myself of sugar.”

When I awoke, I was prepared to go sugar-free. Okay, “free” would have been too ambitious, I would go with as little sugar as possible.

With my usual excitement for the weekly farmer’s market I made a mental list of what I would need to buy. I was on the lookout for some of my favorites; spaghetti squash, free range eggs, sheep’s cheese, assorted peppers, eggplant, juicy peaches and cherry tomatoes. Peaches were to be the sweetest purchase I would make.

Willpower: 1 Sugar: 0

I exchanged a dollar for three shiny bell peppers, snagged the last pint of the pop-in-my-mouth cherry tomatoes and headed for the sheep’s cheese booth. Then, by some powers unknown to me, I was standing at a baked goods booth staring at a blueberry cobbler. I explained to the local baker that while the cobbler looked amazing, I just couldn’t make the purchase. It just happened to be my luck (or lack there of) that because the market was almost over they would sell it for half price. Somehow it seemed justified and I left with the blueberry goodness in my bag.

Willpower: 1 Sugar: 1

My next stop was at my favorite breakfast place for a veggie omelet and coffee. My voice of reason decided to leave the new blueberry purchase with the tip on the counter for one of my favorite waitresses. But not before I cut a small sliver for myself.

Willpower: 2 Sugar: 2 (I tried)

On my way home, I stopped to see a friend who owns a local chocolate shop. He was not there but the chocolates were. As I left a message with the girl behind the counter my hand felt the contents of my pocket, searching for change. With new combinations like pear caramel chocolates I couldn’t resist. The dark little creatures stared at me from the glass case, pleading to be freed. I had just enough for one lucky fellow to go home with me in a clear cellophane bag.

Willpower: 2 Sugar: 3

Safe at home with no sweets to tempt me I settled in to read the paper with a rerun of the Pie Challenge on The Food Network in the background. I should have known better. The first time I watched it I walked around town for hours trying to find a peanut butter pie. Sure enough, I was suddenly in the mood for pie. I thought a walk would help clear my mind but it just landed me at a local pastry shop.

I explained to yet another confused employee that I really didn’t want anything but I was just in the mood for something (and yes there is a difference.) I thought if she described each handcrafted pastry it would give me a mental taste that would take care of my craving. I was wrong. I left with two chocolate gananche bites of goodness and a lemon meringue mini tart. I was certain I had made good purchases. But I was equally certain I shouldn’t have made them to begin with.

Willpower: 2 Sugar: 5

I walked home with my goodies, brewed some decaf French Vanilla coffee and savored every bite of my recently purchased cookies. I had exactly one bite of my lemon tart, and although it was a fabulous pairing of tart and sweet, it didn’t quite hit the spot of a pie. I saved the rest for another time.

Willpower: 3 Sugar: 7

Later that night as I shimmied (yes shimmied) into my pajama pants. I recounted the day’s intake. My mantra had failed me.

“They” say that when you deprive yourself of something you end up just wanting it even more. (Kinda like that last guy I dated…hmmmm) And it proved to be true. Had I not banned sugar from my diet I likely would have not indulged. That’s what I’ll tell myself anyway.

Test your own willpower with some local treats.

Food by Design
Connie Alfarro & Alexis Cosgrove
11 White Oak Road
Landenberg, PA 19350
610-255-1430
Found at The West Chester Growers Market
Hours: Every Saturday 9:00am- 1:00pm May through December

Éclat Chocolates.
24 South High St.
West Chester, PA 19382
office 610-692-5206
fax 610-692-5207
info@eclatchocolate.com
Hours:
Monday-Friday: 11-6
Saturday: 11-4
Sunday: closed

Signature Pastries
142 W. Gay Street
West Chester, PA 19380
610.738.9505
Hours:
Sunday: 8 am to 2 pm
Monday: Closed
Tuesday through Thursday: 8 am to 5 pm
Friday: 8 am to 10 pm
Saturday: 8 am to 10 pm

Oh La La

I went cereal-less to work after my boss announced she would provide breakfast for our departmental meeting. I assumed bagels and cream cheese. She proved me wrong with a mysterious white pastry box. I should have given her more credit.

She placed the pastry box next to my cubicle. I anxiously but slowly lifted the lid and peered inside.

A colorful fruit tart sat on a golden doily beaming at me. Her glossy kiwi slices and berries were perched on a mountain of vanilla crème. She was so stunning she appeared almost artificial.

The banana chocolate chip muffin (clearly jealous) puffed out his perfectly tanned chest. He was robust but playful with bunches of banana and gooey dark chocolate chips.

The raspberry turnover flirted with me. A sticky avalanche of ruby red syrup caramelized to perfection at the base of her airy and flakey layers.

And then there were the croissants. Sitting patiently in the corner, they appeared ordinary, almost dull. They where the strong silent type (my favorite) and confidently glitz-free. They had the perfect ratio of butter to sweetness and they knew it.

I had no choice but create a sampler plate. I assembled half of a croissant, a sliver of the fruit tart and a piece of the muffin on my plate. A coworker had snagged the raspberry turnover. I had been lucky enough to bring in a home brewed European roast coffee, which paired perfectly. I believe in magic when things like that happen.

The meeting had started but as far as I was concerned the agenda had gone out the window. I heard my boss saying something about the marketing plan, but she was drowned out by the bustling Paris café noise and accordion music in my head.

I was focused on another plan, to find out where these bites of goodness came from. (off a plane from Paris?) When the meeting ended I snagged the business card next to the pastry box and tucked it safely in my pocket. The rest of the day I did my best to focus on work and not the leftover pastries still sitting in the box.

My mother was in town two weeks later and treated me to breakfast. As I drove through the restaurant parking lot scanning for parking spaces, my eye caught a sign across the street. A ray of light broke through the clouds and shone down onto a sign that matched the artwork from the business card. It was the bakery. Familiar accordion music played in my head.

I asked my mother to get out of the car and put our name in for breakfast while I parked. I was on a mission. For once I had hoped that there was a long wait for a table.

I sped across the street and parked outside of the bakery. It was small but adequate store. A round-bodied man greeted me instantly in a heavy French accent. “Bonjour Mademoiselle, is theyrre anysing I can do get forre you?” I gazed, wide eyed at the gems in the glass cases most of them recognizable from the day of my meeting.

I dorkily joked that I wanted one of everything. I went on to explain about my boss and the meeting and the perfectly-paired coffee and how amazing I thought they were, and, and, and… He nodded understandably (perhaps he gets this often?) while he filled a bleach-white bakery bag with a vanilla crème and golden raisin tart, a chocolate crème tart, a dark chocolate, almond and cranberry scone, a buttery croissant and a small loaf of oat covered pumpernickel bread. I paid, thanked him and promised I would be back.

Wielding dual pastry bags, I proudly met my mother at the restaurant just in time to be seated for breakfast. Knowing me for all of my 26 years, there was no need to explain how I acquired two bags of pastries while parking the car.

We perused the menu as I carefully dunked chunks of my (obviously not off of the menu) scone into my coffee. I focused on melting the chocolate chips without over-saturating the scone, doing my best to avoid getting sandy bits bit of sediment in my coffee cup. This was happiness.

My mother mentioned that the waitress was curiously eying my bags of goodies. At first I felt bad, but then I felt no need to offer an explanation. I’m sure she just wanted a bite for herself.

Check out this from-the streets-of-Paris bakery for yourself…

Strawberry Bakery
365 Lancaster Ave
Frazer, PA 19355

Phone: 610.644.8484

Vegetarian Delight

My kitchen is usually stocked with seasonal fruits and vegetables. This helps with my effort to maintain a healthy diet as well as be prepared when my vegan friend randomly stops by. I try to make sure I have something “vegan friendly” for her to eat at all times. Nothing fancy, just edible and available. When she called saying that she would be over for dinner I was unfazed. Until she added, “Oh, and by the way I’m inviting my hippie friend… and he’s a vegetarian.”

The hostess in me had a brief panic attack. How do I make an entire meal that’s suitable for guests and not just a random selection of animal-free food products that I happened to have in the fridge?

Quickly, I chopped peppers, diced onions, sliced mushrooms, and peeled carrots. I fried some tofu. I experimented with ginger, chili sauce, soy sauce and sesame oil in my wok. A few tosses and I did a taste test.

The veggies were over-cooked and the flavor was weak. I secretly hoped the friend wouldn’t be cute. Or have a pallet.

In an effort to fix the meal I grabbed my secret ingredient. Tiger sauce. It offered just the right amount of oomph. A few shakes and my vegan dinner was served. Conversation was better than the meal itself, but overall it wasn’t bad.

“Hippie boy” was cute, pallet and all. We continued to hang out and after a few dates he confessed that he was terrified to eat the stir-fry I had prepared that night. He had sneaked a peek at the Tiger Sauce ingredient list and it revealed anchovies. My heart sank. Although I had a love for fruits and veggies I clearly hadn’t realized the depth of a vegetarian’s diet or (as I was to find out)… their wardrobe. I had a lot to learn.

A week later he treated me to dinner at the nicest Italian restaurant in town. I was greeted by my date in a shirt riddled with holes and a pair of camouflage shorts. I made note of the looks from fellow diners as we were seated. It humored me more than offended me. He explained that he only had two pair of shorts and the other pair was dirty. Fair enough. I didn’t ask about the shirt.

Our server took our drink order and read the specials. “Our special starters for tonight are the seared tuna with…” I was forced to tune it out. I was salivating more than usual, likely because I knew I couldn’t have it. I waited for the reading of the entrees before I allowed myself to listen.

Compromising my appetizer order was difficult, but I found this new meat-free guideline refreshing. With only vegetarian options to choose from, I saved decision-making time. This made it easy.

Cooking at home was not so easy. My new dining companion’s habits meant no experimenting with fun fish recipes or interesting tuna salads (a standby when I was short on time.) My seasonings had to be modified. I could no longer dash in my Tiger Sauce or Worchester Sauce or anything with chicken or beef bullion or stock.

Eventually, I found myself resenting the fact that I could not add a sprinkle to my meals in case he may have a bite. After numerous discussions about his lifestyle and diet, I accepted his reasoning for not eating meat and even briefly considered giving up meat myself. (What? I said “considered”). Then I tired of it.

Although his world was lacking in meat I had come to realize that he had plenty of ego to make up for it. I eventually found it better to remove “hippie boy” from my life and happily replace him with lots of tuna, tenderloin and Tiger sauce.

However, I now have a newfound appreciation for vegetarians and those who spend time with them. I give props to all of the vegetarian friendly restaurants, especially in Chester County. Check em out!

Wave Noodle
316 E. Gay St.
West Chester, PA 19380
610-436-8020
Menu highlights are vegetable pad thai, pineapple fried rice with cashews and curry tofu.

Devi Indian Restaurant Inc
151 W Lincoln Hwy
Exton, PA 19341
(610) 594-9250
Vegetarian Indian Food. Lunch buffet is an amazing assortment of vegetarian options.

SuTao Café
Great Valley Shopping Center
81 Lancaster Avenue
Malvern, PA 19355
(610) 651-8886 (phone)
Awesome.