tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67129293561837920532024-03-12T21:15:14.101-07:00LeslieKellywhininganddiningLeslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.comBlogger386125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-58776559404039476482017-11-19T12:51:00.000-08:002017-11-20T09:34:22.465-08:00When the Dream Job Ends...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQmir2uswxuEWccYH3Ayb-hGCiRIirMqUKiK932gjnS9biUeYHB5D1_ShZkLqwWkqPZdQ335Y4YLgUBHFeVgUwMtkbqKYOmUKCnG_tHjJwn9kj4wk5hXBJIKaG3oEucOUQoELK_ScJng/s1600/IMG_7448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQmir2uswxuEWccYH3Ayb-hGCiRIirMqUKiK932gjnS9biUeYHB5D1_ShZkLqwWkqPZdQ335Y4YLgUBHFeVgUwMtkbqKYOmUKCnG_tHjJwn9kj4wk5hXBJIKaG3oEucOUQoELK_ScJng/s400/IMG_7448.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my very best days at my Dream Job. Gonna miss it, especially my friends there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? </b>Obviously, the person who said that oft-quoted cliche meant to comfort has never been laid off from their Dream Job. Exactly one week before Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
I was WFH... working from home... my swollen ankle propped up on a stack of pillows. I had taken a tumble in a poorly marked puddle in the bus tunnel on Tuesday, went the to doc on Wednesday and was feeling grateful that an X-ray revealed "no fracture." Still, it hurt like hell to walk, so I was taking an extra day to heal up when an instant message popped up from the HR director: "Please come to my office."<br />
<br />
I'd worked at this company long enough to know exactly what that means.<br />
<br />
I answered back: I'm working from home.<br />
<br />
What's the best number to call you on? she asked.<br />
<br />
Five minutes later and my heart was broken. I barely remember the conversation. Something about "I'm very sorry to tell you, but your position has been eliminated. Thank you for your service. Good luck."<br />
<br />
This wasn't just about a job I loved, this was about being ripped from a warm and supportive work community. I looked forward to going into the office. I admired and appreciated my colleagues. Sure, it wasn't always wonderful, but it was always a place I felt I belonged.<br />
I'd seen others before me go through this "re-org" process, blindsided by decisions made by bean counters beholden to stockholders. It would be so easy for me to wail and cry: Fuck Corporate America!<br />
<br />
As it turns out, I didn't even have to go there. Friends and family and now-former colleagues went there on my behalf, calling the timing cruel and heartless. I got a steady stream of texts and posts on social media. When I posted the sad news on Facebook, the outpouring of love and support helped get me through the initial wave of searing hot pain.<br />
<br />
Grief is a process, and I've been sad, shocked, angry. I've tried bargaining, asking the HR person if there was the possibility of another job at the company that no longer wants me around. Nope. I've felt strong one day, but weak and defeated the next. I wake up and then remember what happened. It's a nightmare.<br />
<br />
Yes, of course, I believe there's something out there for me. I will survive. I've been through worse, the death of my parents, the end of my newspaper career, the challenging years being a freelancer, always hustling, never knowing exactly how it's all going to turn out.<br />
<br />
I know this isn't going to kill me. I hope it makes me stronger. But getting there is a real bitch.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-84967513595700464912015-12-24T07:49:00.000-08:002015-12-24T07:49:26.330-08:00It was a VERY GOOD year!I landed my dream job at <a href="http://dish.allrecipes.com/author/leslie-kelly/" target="_blank">Allrecipes</a>, ate my way around New Orleans, Memphis, Louisville, Nashville, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/smalltownsbigeats/" target="_blank">adorable towns in Montana</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/-W7Q0cuE5-/?taken-by=lesliedines58" target="_blank">San Diego</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/78aoMVuE3U/?taken-by=lesliedines58" target="_blank">tons of places</a> in Seattle and was the selfie start of more than 200 <a href="https://www.tastemade.com/@lesliedines" target="_blank">Tastemade videos</a>, not in that order. But still. Here are a few highlights, in photos.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzNFI59gzQOai8VCDdi3PrX7jWkimoA_iu4zGPPnLmRbRdyjp1xtnz5wmqZQ58-y5WJgureTeZEQxAql2x6BVxYW75p89rjBzzjcxHFyEpzDpkov6CACSlgY5HYrHC4TGWjeqM3bL8mGs/s1600/IMG_9122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzNFI59gzQOai8VCDdi3PrX7jWkimoA_iu4zGPPnLmRbRdyjp1xtnz5wmqZQ58-y5WJgureTeZEQxAql2x6BVxYW75p89rjBzzjcxHFyEpzDpkov6CACSlgY5HYrHC4TGWjeqM3bL8mGs/s320/IMG_9122.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9l72z8Y3EG0qrlZFPiIi-KIDnH180zww0ZyQtoYhVzwKfuSYgIBsT60XhPNcgOjOYEBH8Ky6ImhhyphenhyphenvXpD4-XMDDnCHdhon_Y1c6OZSnGsrU0V9hHgFuOKp6G0lJ2w8p6HznzLAU8tSE/s1600/IMG_9109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9l72z8Y3EG0qrlZFPiIi-KIDnH180zww0ZyQtoYhVzwKfuSYgIBsT60XhPNcgOjOYEBH8Ky6ImhhyphenhyphenvXpD4-XMDDnCHdhon_Y1c6OZSnGsrU0V9hHgFuOKp6G0lJ2w8p6HznzLAU8tSE/s320/IMG_9109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvj8WMs4VOVdZNYzQtqI0EumFbO6PDFrEnl2wdeTzY-ytlfajjV9yg1NI72D1bhDuDinyvEMqyzeNfbsZfci3i6kBazSuY9sEiRuSz0Qv3PBWSl6cZDCCTlaC6gGo42OLtG1rUl1kB1oI/s1600/IMG_9270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvj8WMs4VOVdZNYzQtqI0EumFbO6PDFrEnl2wdeTzY-ytlfajjV9yg1NI72D1bhDuDinyvEMqyzeNfbsZfci3i6kBazSuY9sEiRuSz0Qv3PBWSl6cZDCCTlaC6gGo42OLtG1rUl1kB1oI/s320/IMG_9270.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7Ll4CDeH4iDOdLWzJpFfth6MnoDmUjCWpSSxGXtX2Doag-fXM7MsILFRsWPJhI8Mho5IRBvFYyO-SAIBXWRULps2bWOz7RBaAAZHWRObot9DKrRSuH0m47av3ykxtkvI_HZwgfpm6D0/s1600/IMG_9783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7Ll4CDeH4iDOdLWzJpFfth6MnoDmUjCWpSSxGXtX2Doag-fXM7MsILFRsWPJhI8Mho5IRBvFYyO-SAIBXWRULps2bWOz7RBaAAZHWRObot9DKrRSuH0m47av3ykxtkvI_HZwgfpm6D0/s320/IMG_9783.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxHkdMfb1qd5x0n8rtwofjtgwOHhmp5WDLISFtjvMBVC_jeM7OoyRd0PO8Faqrjmazi48giEUIihIlZHpOs-y8ugk0M18OFkBXlvjwDT2aHr1rRFq_ERgpVBHFleHcRMsqfTZ0HE_6CQ/s1600/IMG_0129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxHkdMfb1qd5x0n8rtwofjtgwOHhmp5WDLISFtjvMBVC_jeM7OoyRd0PO8Faqrjmazi48giEUIihIlZHpOs-y8ugk0M18OFkBXlvjwDT2aHr1rRFq_ERgpVBHFleHcRMsqfTZ0HE_6CQ/s320/IMG_0129.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgtBjpRp3HaYDtCH34hjkrnCgT9AcALuaXql7kUqAxwajNTkmkr0nFgGlUgNGIBufYTzubkDG7yBfIPUu-3l8F2boGgc112BVZzWVAzxLRoxumGqivd4QzuSD1JbrXnsqRtRnVVa6j_0/s1600/IMG_0300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgtBjpRp3HaYDtCH34hjkrnCgT9AcALuaXql7kUqAxwajNTkmkr0nFgGlUgNGIBufYTzubkDG7yBfIPUu-3l8F2boGgc112BVZzWVAzxLRoxumGqivd4QzuSD1JbrXnsqRtRnVVa6j_0/s320/IMG_0300.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKvI61rjfi9c8twiczWwX1r7G9VisIjrbGoW4TbOm3JfeCZ7alSk9mnRQ0loUXgZGdjVTW0waddjzWVZ9703xY8TRiYsChXFGQnQssstY3aSqTJmIsTE2TFxwYTtbDTwLK9NJd57defE/s1600/IMG_0150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKvI61rjfi9c8twiczWwX1r7G9VisIjrbGoW4TbOm3JfeCZ7alSk9mnRQ0loUXgZGdjVTW0waddjzWVZ9703xY8TRiYsChXFGQnQssstY3aSqTJmIsTE2TFxwYTtbDTwLK9NJd57defE/s320/IMG_0150.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCe3ic0YN9oOni9sr9LG0UdIbfVrxGymwfFvSG00f6qT0hXRgesLilmSETrdCoFbKzUM50yRAyrQm3j4xxImm4RqeMOK9knte1iB6g2K8glXLE410axLqn7tehs72BRm_nRGm3EZVvgJo/s1600/IMG_0036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCe3ic0YN9oOni9sr9LG0UdIbfVrxGymwfFvSG00f6qT0hXRgesLilmSETrdCoFbKzUM50yRAyrQm3j4xxImm4RqeMOK9knte1iB6g2K8glXLE410axLqn7tehs72BRm_nRGm3EZVvgJo/s320/IMG_0036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92UqSVZUBUkdnTQkZ-NaQTFIy3Be1YTKYANXCsDfzw894r6eAttpxGaKH3SK8rsnwG32D6am14bVJk2h4PCB_0ubFz3A-fuoo5LQ2VVyahnVkhHKxsWQJ0ggJTeCI4RXrgkNgBNRHDHo/s1600/IMG_0283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92UqSVZUBUkdnTQkZ-NaQTFIy3Be1YTKYANXCsDfzw894r6eAttpxGaKH3SK8rsnwG32D6am14bVJk2h4PCB_0ubFz3A-fuoo5LQ2VVyahnVkhHKxsWQJ0ggJTeCI4RXrgkNgBNRHDHo/s320/IMG_0283.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdRaNbI2oLVgKxfQJPd3Mm2p8xPSkTutzL2raKRFvRCS77yQ7XLCZP59LXzwp8IQIhwk8TDNtVelwgrN7KWbkAe3q9cMWPAxTsNyMTw5XJVPZkmsGruMNk5fn5v41BeFF9Mxxne4Y_yI/s1600/IMG_0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdRaNbI2oLVgKxfQJPd3Mm2p8xPSkTutzL2raKRFvRCS77yQ7XLCZP59LXzwp8IQIhwk8TDNtVelwgrN7KWbkAe3q9cMWPAxTsNyMTw5XJVPZkmsGruMNk5fn5v41BeFF9Mxxne4Y_yI/s320/IMG_0294.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTwETGQYsZZnw0TaPBaGVZQJzhosWO2bElbY5IoWlLYazt79au7oWbbWomkVP7_WvZLNm2tKu_MJWHQqkFKtKlm0R5DsJ__6MB8Cl8dyfKBBFanS6rUyNpGo7V-DbT4thssTk-gBX7Yk/s1600/IMG_1301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTwETGQYsZZnw0TaPBaGVZQJzhosWO2bElbY5IoWlLYazt79au7oWbbWomkVP7_WvZLNm2tKu_MJWHQqkFKtKlm0R5DsJ__6MB8Cl8dyfKBBFanS6rUyNpGo7V-DbT4thssTk-gBX7Yk/s320/IMG_1301.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUOn8DVeGzf4PjlK5J7bSBkBXMeR1BlBsCO1xma4fKvVkoBJ-ek9w5MzdwL2a0-OFvaRaQzTEQbFSi8i9L6AWtuL3-J-sBU2XJ4CBam2Y38-den2pcvapzAfoGtlNhPzKkzaKxVe1mVU/s1600/IMG_1968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUOn8DVeGzf4PjlK5J7bSBkBXMeR1BlBsCO1xma4fKvVkoBJ-ek9w5MzdwL2a0-OFvaRaQzTEQbFSi8i9L6AWtuL3-J-sBU2XJ4CBam2Y38-den2pcvapzAfoGtlNhPzKkzaKxVe1mVU/s320/IMG_1968.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANblMBnOgT_0I6i9Pyo-aAlyp4_TXFHwTz4AVoBO41SSqPaVthG6kHE3NfG-zipC3GIMC7hPSVvs4ySGI2ZhK6sYMYIzOzodpQPRhFHqA8ngkbYW-VUaZE4RUgOr86ne-MlxITOugIP0/s1600/IMG_1755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANblMBnOgT_0I6i9Pyo-aAlyp4_TXFHwTz4AVoBO41SSqPaVthG6kHE3NfG-zipC3GIMC7hPSVvs4ySGI2ZhK6sYMYIzOzodpQPRhFHqA8ngkbYW-VUaZE4RUgOr86ne-MlxITOugIP0/s320/IMG_1755.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw17G-lRwUDRxoS62PJd52M2GOMh8dUsGUK-76CUeGkjX4ZcUleYz9Rr2bvzTxvcxDeLeDm3m5cB3vvePK7FbEVovIxo6xtyHnr5Vo7Nl7o4qvFcVTfpnknbLDxDp2v6qvkUYWQCOPhk/s1600/IMG_2686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw17G-lRwUDRxoS62PJd52M2GOMh8dUsGUK-76CUeGkjX4ZcUleYz9Rr2bvzTxvcxDeLeDm3m5cB3vvePK7FbEVovIxo6xtyHnr5Vo7Nl7o4qvFcVTfpnknbLDxDp2v6qvkUYWQCOPhk/s320/IMG_2686.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLS1FHfBLZErldlgW_34Rv7vQTUEqboKIqqUgQllRz84rfYC92iS17anc3iYQ9a8K1dB4b4F0tmM2_gzm1FvB374y9CCRhSWpuU-3xDrRaSD1Wj6l8EkrQbouEPkOH5FIYHd0k83Z4pM/s1600/IMG_2289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLS1FHfBLZErldlgW_34Rv7vQTUEqboKIqqUgQllRz84rfYC92iS17anc3iYQ9a8K1dB4b4F0tmM2_gzm1FvB374y9CCRhSWpuU-3xDrRaSD1Wj6l8EkrQbouEPkOH5FIYHd0k83Z4pM/s320/IMG_2289.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WZT0V3X24mvUjmf26eNM-7sCZ9_sKNvZyVQY8h8_j7MDmo2fV708LTFqn04BhdDbiiWBJwfjdkCYz95cgLjW_rpScEi25HA6UHjdin93QvtqW4mqJTL1mwiiwq9mz1N9lW-C-XjPzsQ/s1600/IMG_3047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WZT0V3X24mvUjmf26eNM-7sCZ9_sKNvZyVQY8h8_j7MDmo2fV708LTFqn04BhdDbiiWBJwfjdkCYz95cgLjW_rpScEi25HA6UHjdin93QvtqW4mqJTL1mwiiwq9mz1N9lW-C-XjPzsQ/s320/IMG_3047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwx3PPETp_WlW2-Imwb2Uq4zpx2PRXNYBcGMVwEo3cLoQZ1jRnr_afmQ7GFAkmd0IElWpTpAZ1JBCkJTR-yZP5M0kDyPZuyMijoCs1C-7nvNH5CVXvlXUTYERFP4LdXFVnWANGIe5L6A/s1600/IMG_3230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwx3PPETp_WlW2-Imwb2Uq4zpx2PRXNYBcGMVwEo3cLoQZ1jRnr_afmQ7GFAkmd0IElWpTpAZ1JBCkJTR-yZP5M0kDyPZuyMijoCs1C-7nvNH5CVXvlXUTYERFP4LdXFVnWANGIe5L6A/s320/IMG_3230.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitDm6RUm3nTuDGe8ha4N2gGTX6hLLDOR2W_s89Dyqrsk2TP8X-bX9qKd1WMArpllfx8apVuWAYt0w-9kHuA367JoYnZi9K-3FvOWHBSB49MppjyWUItwmeswAvzAlMQAiCPxhW6SG_lE/s1600/IMG_3898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitDm6RUm3nTuDGe8ha4N2gGTX6hLLDOR2W_s89Dyqrsk2TP8X-bX9qKd1WMArpllfx8apVuWAYt0w-9kHuA367JoYnZi9K-3FvOWHBSB49MppjyWUItwmeswAvzAlMQAiCPxhW6SG_lE/s320/IMG_3898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLsJk3C1BSvgNaqo0dPouO8ycsqy5vfJK8tgAodCzFbQvzretSGbmxtKL9Co8oEucBSl0h4f0IUoKsekuC7tjpPCRT2cH9Ma6XDsuztMbwG_7s1Dlk2A2ofz9XOMhyYB3t0YctTZMO5w/s1600/IMG_4517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLsJk3C1BSvgNaqo0dPouO8ycsqy5vfJK8tgAodCzFbQvzretSGbmxtKL9Co8oEucBSl0h4f0IUoKsekuC7tjpPCRT2cH9Ma6XDsuztMbwG_7s1Dlk2A2ofz9XOMhyYB3t0YctTZMO5w/s320/IMG_4517.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ILYH5uE0_vkq3oxUZw1ni8I8Uf9k8pBGj2BfA08nZfNA_lqEwupLCVpXJFlsVAH01GqxqDb_lKaGNHhGI4ILjwVLPRBuIOzSFUxooAcjHmGfh9M6-dw929egiewV3-fxuShE4kdVnxE/s1600/IMG_5481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ILYH5uE0_vkq3oxUZw1ni8I8Uf9k8pBGj2BfA08nZfNA_lqEwupLCVpXJFlsVAH01GqxqDb_lKaGNHhGI4ILjwVLPRBuIOzSFUxooAcjHmGfh9M6-dw929egiewV3-fxuShE4kdVnxE/s320/IMG_5481.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppEzG1Fgue1Nx1UTYsIAOxrig4yX_pqQDFm9WhQbitCUmRcCRrCh4lYSeZaEJv03EhYmyGi_v0HcZKSqKs-zTCsfM5Ul1ujB2OblrKIhI5Jy59suVxYU-OOfwTaZsiqfnTOFQQqC_8ww/s1600/IMG_5413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppEzG1Fgue1Nx1UTYsIAOxrig4yX_pqQDFm9WhQbitCUmRcCRrCh4lYSeZaEJv03EhYmyGi_v0HcZKSqKs-zTCsfM5Ul1ujB2OblrKIhI5Jy59suVxYU-OOfwTaZsiqfnTOFQQqC_8ww/s320/IMG_5413.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8_JqhkzoXCLWpao3ouQNMXkVuyfBSVdhJHMBqeEoajb4Rk4Tbe-ULfAWHtd2Ir_tODVK3cAcmDNOWbmVeuD2qkRO8UxfnKpPj2S-n6iwl6Ml9YdahES4ohzcpSgG-UFyajAYI0-AjkA/s1600/IMG_6576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8_JqhkzoXCLWpao3ouQNMXkVuyfBSVdhJHMBqeEoajb4Rk4Tbe-ULfAWHtd2Ir_tODVK3cAcmDNOWbmVeuD2qkRO8UxfnKpPj2S-n6iwl6Ml9YdahES4ohzcpSgG-UFyajAYI0-AjkA/s320/IMG_6576.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNdODvGaAJ4-bJIl-NLYE9GGdja4fOs6KElF-5UabQmW2T9hld9se05uj07hsbCEzl70-wOSi1MmH60H5RMe6i5p_leDS6uSRJbefzpBAz2vTa1lovAKBd_wAroWQqIW1uq8ot24BACM/s1600/IMG_6120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNdODvGaAJ4-bJIl-NLYE9GGdja4fOs6KElF-5UabQmW2T9hld9se05uj07hsbCEzl70-wOSi1MmH60H5RMe6i5p_leDS6uSRJbefzpBAz2vTa1lovAKBd_wAroWQqIW1uq8ot24BACM/s320/IMG_6120.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVASab8yQzuSjwE7JJTTQdBKrSqb7IA_4y64qWiKGJANdP_9178539lnrifzTHWqRTKNaNbxW6wGZ3Ocz-TBnsCiuJadkOn4qTaciYiHip1gyGEWuPVZlv9abPO0739029FvHN57BLIYY/s1600/IMG_8623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVASab8yQzuSjwE7JJTTQdBKrSqb7IA_4y64qWiKGJANdP_9178539lnrifzTHWqRTKNaNbxW6wGZ3Ocz-TBnsCiuJadkOn4qTaciYiHip1gyGEWuPVZlv9abPO0739029FvHN57BLIYY/s320/IMG_8623.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5IrcRFqm406jHmV-hJymEKZPZE3w7i3MZfJHbWXsfIKqGSOPMo4Mwu_RrL-M6TluNxA2xfx6uHnXc1hiufFuMrIcYvk-MEDUafOR8_SU4vcYbfzYQdtjUqUx8uFUqfN9McOtN6XjJrg/s1600/IMG_8653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5IrcRFqm406jHmV-hJymEKZPZE3w7i3MZfJHbWXsfIKqGSOPMo4Mwu_RrL-M6TluNxA2xfx6uHnXc1hiufFuMrIcYvk-MEDUafOR8_SU4vcYbfzYQdtjUqUx8uFUqfN9McOtN6XjJrg/s320/IMG_8653.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUH8z7kEC7oniY_X8m_7oINcohvXHgz2J650MLBfI97dbytVNrSdSYwL1XtQiCj3K8jP5nc09Yf5YEldR0YTLk_EKKQChWsEkNiOCngOF6KDW6YC7eYoBf01dYKha0DM5mtr3JEhKqA_0/s1600/IMG_7760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUH8z7kEC7oniY_X8m_7oINcohvXHgz2J650MLBfI97dbytVNrSdSYwL1XtQiCj3K8jP5nc09Yf5YEldR0YTLk_EKKQChWsEkNiOCngOF6KDW6YC7eYoBf01dYKha0DM5mtr3JEhKqA_0/s320/IMG_7760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPX1as30Vn0oQgpVoFMXbjWWCxWiiywHso99gD2E1q6CnP_wg0GjKoD8EzB1Uu9BbhzXNrWsacxz8RoOVaRyCjIPVnrPFSvYZfRvODzbnmIWWaJBiTJwJFMaHxxej51UJ8fkifCXuFP8/s1600/IMG_9056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPX1as30Vn0oQgpVoFMXbjWWCxWiiywHso99gD2E1q6CnP_wg0GjKoD8EzB1Uu9BbhzXNrWsacxz8RoOVaRyCjIPVnrPFSvYZfRvODzbnmIWWaJBiTJwJFMaHxxej51UJ8fkifCXuFP8/s320/IMG_9056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHcGPpzTKIqL4P3Bbwfrx-W6o4Vpidb0tUiZ9Bsf4cMvrDlP5hTgS0fbSsENcWVyAsI-ojd_5EM2slagpAEk-QVIpJYWXZ0-ZLjGpBUgpEim4uc13pMSg1DZXJxZUYcf_cc-y3QZ7dMY/s1600/IMG_7819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHcGPpzTKIqL4P3Bbwfrx-W6o4Vpidb0tUiZ9Bsf4cMvrDlP5hTgS0fbSsENcWVyAsI-ojd_5EM2slagpAEk-QVIpJYWXZ0-ZLjGpBUgpEim4uc13pMSg1DZXJxZUYcf_cc-y3QZ7dMY/s320/IMG_7819.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-37309826553849321002015-01-08T07:55:00.000-08:002015-01-08T07:57:34.359-08:00Confessions of an accidental Elvis fan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFT9qNDu4KLTf11ot3jGEpUzz3ASRWqTFx8xJBABWujkFha7GatHnOLOOIL0CLZo8V92SVvDLfFtZWEFwbv8HWwhZ2hEay0_l3lbXs-lyL5QoarXtDDJS1nVEzKOVZP14T6385bA3A2EA/s1600/elviscake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFT9qNDu4KLTf11ot3jGEpUzz3ASRWqTFx8xJBABWujkFha7GatHnOLOOIL0CLZo8V92SVvDLfFtZWEFwbv8HWwhZ2hEay0_l3lbXs-lyL5QoarXtDDJS1nVEzKOVZP14T6385bA3A2EA/s1600/elviscake.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Happy Birthday to The King!<br />
<br />
Many people might groan and roll their peepers at this sincere well wish. Why celebrate the birth of Elvis, an overweight has been, who died while sitting on the toilet? A most undignified way to go no matter how many records you've sold or Hollywood starlets you've banged.<br />
<br />
I remember where I was the minute I heard it announced on KJR radio that E had really, truly left the... well, you know how the saying goes. I was driving fast, past my old high school with my first college boyfriend. We rolled down the car windows and yelled to nobody in particular: Elvis is dead! Elvis is dead! Long live The King!! Typical journalism students, we wanted to spread the news.<br />
<br />
Then, I don't remember giving the man and the myth a second thought. Well, at least not until I moved to Memphis in 2004. Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, a 60-minute drive from M'Town, but it was in the Bluff City where everything good and very bad happened to him. He was discovered by Sam Phillips, the owner of the legendary Sun Studios. Elvis pestered him until he let him record a song for his mama's birthday. Elvis was a real mama's boy, and a twin, though his bro, Aaron died at birth. His tombstone is in the family plot at Graceland, the "mansion" Elvis purchased when he hit it big.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2rPuy1BeoHo7lGTkYMGs062anP_1u_ecAtNvKH39VTn3-ig1Eacy8PaKDlrrPpp3hZEwDUZvSf-Z2mym8oSOMblCb6ijj1FWMoF1p5IJBdujp5hpvcdgSFP664t4zK27fzpsN9-3d2I/s1600/clairekavan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2rPuy1BeoHo7lGTkYMGs062anP_1u_ecAtNvKH39VTn3-ig1Eacy8PaKDlrrPpp3hZEwDUZvSf-Z2mym8oSOMblCb6ijj1FWMoF1p5IJBdujp5hpvcdgSFP664t4zK27fzpsN9-3d2I/s1600/clairekavan.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
It was Graceland that first cracked open my cold, cold heart and let the spirit of Elvis inside. Let me explain. After my family moved down South, we had plenty of visitors and guess where they wanted to go? I'm a good host, so I obliged and before you can say Don't be Cruel, I had been to this time warp home/museum, tourist attraction, over-the-top tribute to the art of sequined jumpsuits a half dozen times. Each visit, I learned a little bit more.<br />
<br />
Bet you didn't know that Elvis was one of the first celebrity philanthropists. There's a wall in one of the rooms in Graceland plastered with cancelled checks signed in his neat script to various worthy causes. Guess the fact that he kept all those checks means he was a bit of a packrat, too. I can relate.<br />
<br />
Elvis probably could have wiggled off the hook when it came to serving his country in the military, but he went. He put on a uniform, unlike a lot of our politicians. He served. So, it wasn't tough duty and it was in Germany that he put the moves on an underage gal who later became his wife, but the man served. When he came home, reporters asked: What did you miss about Memphis? He answered in that sweet, sheepish way: I missed everything about Memphis. That clip loops in the nearby building that was his father's office. The main thing he missed in Memphis was his mother's passing. Cue the gospel music. Seriously, I haven't been to church in decades, but when I hear Elvis sing gospel, I want to join the choir.<br />
<br />
No big shocker, my favorite room at Graceland isn't the much-written-about Jungle Room, but the kitchen. All the rooms are caught in a time warp, circa 1977, but the kitchen has a timeless charm. I can totally picture E hanging with his crew, drinking Pepsi. He might have been a pill popper, but he wasn't a boozer. Much has been made about his obsession with fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, but meatloaf was his first love. Sometimes, he ate it every day for weeks on end. Which explains his expanding waistline.<br />
<br />
While living in Memphis, I learned that Elvis impersonators are called Tribute Artists, and every August during "Death Week", I saw a parade of good and pretty bad singers dressing up as the young Elvis, the old Elvis, the uniform-wearing Elvis. Very entertaining, but so not Elvis. I even dressed up as Elvis for Halloween and I've sung Viva Las Vegas at karoke in Atlanta, a very bad choice of song. It's way too fast. Should have gone with Heartbreak Hotel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVoi-iLuWWsbzBIF0TkKIxLjMDGTn3XrBqRRYY4TJM3ZMaoED2LLe8EH66FrS3pVVvBK2UCr1yB0AS-35KFrwNAo8OSBLybsYsu_mkpK1BR8CCgN6JHjC8TnRLhknMBDo9mayimSeKCI/s1600/IMG_7827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVoi-iLuWWsbzBIF0TkKIxLjMDGTn3XrBqRRYY4TJM3ZMaoED2LLe8EH66FrS3pVVvBK2UCr1yB0AS-35KFrwNAo8OSBLybsYsu_mkpK1BR8CCgN6JHjC8TnRLhknMBDo9mayimSeKCI/s1600/IMG_7827.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
That might sound wacko, but when I was dressed up as Elvis, people showered me with love. They hugged me, took photos of me, playfully asked for my autograph. It was pretty dang cool, and, yes, a little strange. Elvis once fed David Chang mole salumi and he loved it. He later signed a book for me, addressing it to Elvis.<br />
<br />
OK, that's about it. Oh, except that I'm making a return visit to Graceland very soon. My brother, a longtime fan of E, is turning 50 and I'm taking him on a once-in-a-lifetime trip. Or as Elvis might have said TCB! Taking care of business.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-72000048017900597822013-09-02T16:59:00.002-07:002013-09-02T17:18:20.946-07:0050 Things I LOVE about Maui!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYC4GBQ_32RF1zIzbIzA_Eqndp88wtMQL9IaWfMkOpqXLKOIplqLkCqdzw157HFaQ_r10uiJtdo30oSfibCIZAf1VG3sJ648okd5TFU5IWk65__-M3Mn3o-xIbv0qf5o5vA-AK8b8ZVZU/s1600/ono+farms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYC4GBQ_32RF1zIzbIzA_Eqndp88wtMQL9IaWfMkOpqXLKOIplqLkCqdzw157HFaQ_r10uiJtdo30oSfibCIZAf1VG3sJ648okd5TFU5IWk65__-M3Mn3o-xIbv0qf5o5vA-AK8b8ZVZU/s400/ono+farms.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grown on Maui Farmers Market at Whaler's Village.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've spent the past week in paradise, on a hosted trip to the second annual <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaanapalimaui/sets/72157635268178018/" target="_blank">Ka'anapali Fresh: A Culinary Experience</a>. It's a delicious celebration of the growing local food movement on the island, a welcome move toward sustainability.<br />
<br />
Maui is one of my favorite places in the world, an incredible combination of beautiful beaches, historic towns, gorgeous hikes. The last time I was here, I hiked into Haleakala National Park, a once in a lifetime experience I'd love to repeat someday. And, of course, there's the food! AMAZING!! All those things and more are what keep me coming back to the Magic Isle.<br />
<br />
Here are the 50 things I love about Maui:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_RcS44TLKBw4AXYVCDJ4tKWngZucxpY6oiBZk5h6z9lLHTcVY0o3inI-z0U6MoH5ISvEauPlJy3bhfE9zLMzA0sqh-U5P9ZZ4W9gVjmdOYXfDjHrkDpqqw4Jt16D6OEIB21z2hz3PJkA/s1600/mac+pancakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_RcS44TLKBw4AXYVCDJ4tKWngZucxpY6oiBZk5h6z9lLHTcVY0o3inI-z0U6MoH5ISvEauPlJy3bhfE9zLMzA0sqh-U5P9ZZ4W9gVjmdOYXfDjHrkDpqqw4Jt16D6OEIB21z2hz3PJkA/s320/mac+pancakes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
1. The macadamia nut pancakes with coconut syrup at Pioneer Inn.<br />
<br />
2. Spicy ahi tuna poke from Foodland. Heck, all the poke at Foodland. Yes, I've tried them all.<br />
<br />
3. Geckos.<br />
<br />
4. Spam macadamia nuts. OK, I've never tried them, but the idea that they exist cracks me up.<br />
<br />
5. KPOA, 92.9 FM. Love the mix of old-school island music and contemporary tunes, too.<br />
<br />
6. Aloha Fridays! No work 'til Monday.<br />
<br />
7. Swimming in the super mellow waters off Airport Beach.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoSk0uV0mNyBZ-fwviSIopxGOD7LdjDcyjqCtBaZeJQptvsIwtIIyuZZo18n95wBEKZbdtLiDknnMezbg_EPVvVtL-8ix75MxBx9dw_8lsMmVjt3ijRgL1xhysP5YJqj4hRakvEGoKCs/s1600/da+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoSk0uV0mNyBZ-fwviSIopxGOD7LdjDcyjqCtBaZeJQptvsIwtIIyuZZo18n95wBEKZbdtLiDknnMezbg_EPVvVtL-8ix75MxBx9dw_8lsMmVjt3ijRgL1xhysP5YJqj4hRakvEGoKCs/s320/da+kitchen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
8. Plate lunch from Da Kitchen and Honokowai Okazuya. Chicken katsu pictured here.<br />
<br />
9. The Korean seafood pancake at <a href="https://maui.hyatt.com/content/dam/PropertyWebsites/regency/oggrm/Documents/all/JPGFullMenu73013.pdf" target="_blank">Japengo</a>.<br />
<br />
10. Yoga with Karen at the <a href="http://www.hyatt.com/hyatt/images/hotels/oggrm/OGGRM_Fitness.pdf" target="_blank">Hyatt Regency</a>. She's a gifted teacher and a massage therapist, too.<br />
<br />
11. Speaking of massage, can I get an aloha for the oceanside lomi lomi by Helena at <a href="https://maui.hyatt.com/hyatt/pure/spas/about/fitness.jsp?language=en" target="_blank">Spa Moana</a>? Pure bliss by the sea. Truly.<br />
<br />
12. Sleeping with the slider open and listening to the sound of the surf.<br />
<br />
13. The crab-stuff Kona shrimp at <a href="http://www.pulehurestaurantmaui.com/" target="_blank">Pulehu Italian Grill</a> at the Westin Oceanside Villas.<br />
<br />
14. Hawaiian Sun guava nectar.<br />
<br />
15. Roadside stands selling coconuts, especially the ones that have a box where you pay. The honor system is alive and well on Maui.<br />
<br />
16. Banana bread from Leoda's Kitchen and Pie Shop.<br />
<br />
17. Hello Kitty soft coolers from ABC Stores.<br />
<br />
18. Wearing my swimsuit all day long.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZBcnuTsgfIDKx3HOkl8mfdbwTkRndbGykIdfJeIYhDpvF8B8osKKISiZQ-aoOS8pzr_ZECgKEv2Kq3PzcQ4286WQhTk52_CdPTOT7jf573mGCkUM2xKwsnHxTM6GjeP7Dk1ss9Leimo/s1600/cookout+culture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZBcnuTsgfIDKx3HOkl8mfdbwTkRndbGykIdfJeIYhDpvF8B8osKKISiZQ-aoOS8pzr_ZECgKEv2Kq3PzcQ4286WQhTk52_CdPTOT7jf573mGCkUM2xKwsnHxTM6GjeP7Dk1ss9Leimo/s400/cookout+culture.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
19. The cookout culture. Love the fat camps people set up at the beach parks. Just saw a guy using a boogie board to try and get some charcoal going! Not this guy, he obviously knows what he's doing, prepping for a luau.<br />
<br />
20. Longboard Lager.<br />
<br />
21. The sound of keikis splashing in the ocean. Reminds me of coming here with my kiddo many years ago, back when she was just learning to swim. Wonderful memories.<br />
<br />
23. Boogie boarding at Fleming Beach Park. Got my butt kicked this trip! Still a blast.<br />
<br />
24. Kokohead's smoked ahi spread from Foodland. Great on crackers, but I also made a killer tuna melt with it.<br />
<br />
25. That friendly aloha spirit. It's not put on for tourists. Promise.<br />
<br />
26. No shirt, no shoes? No problem! Especially dig restaurants where there's soft sand on my feet and a cold bev in my hand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuMX-kd74Qcp9GgyUr7dGTaATE3MywIBEiVyBZc09Jh6B9HViXGTy4RmTz480bk_-iZAB3Fn9ZZBLH6Lyfu7cshjH6cM1yi1002ZbOAfnkwnzxwJfHVpHK3fRaNQxngv4Hdf8D1axyuk/s1600/poke+taro+chips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuMX-kd74Qcp9GgyUr7dGTaATE3MywIBEiVyBZc09Jh6B9HViXGTy4RmTz480bk_-iZAB3Fn9ZZBLH6Lyfu7cshjH6cM1yi1002ZbOAfnkwnzxwJfHVpHK3fRaNQxngv4Hdf8D1axyuk/s320/poke+taro+chips.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
27. Taro chips with poke on top.<br />
<br />
28. Snorkeling at Kapalua.<br />
<br />
29. Rainbows.<br />
<br />
30. MauiGrown's awesome coffee! Thanks for the plantation tour Kimo!!<br />
<br />
31. The scents of the tropical flowers.<br />
<br />
32. Sticking one of those beautiful-smelling blossoms in my hair.<br />
<br />
33. Leis. This trip, I got a gorgeous lei for being a judge at the Ka'anapali Fresh Festival's chef competition. Win!<br />
<br />
34. The deep, deep blue of the Pacific Ocean.<br />
<br />
35. The red, green and black sand beaches in Hana.<br />
<br />
36. Anthony's Coffee in Paia.<br />
<br />
37. Drinks with paper umbrellas.<br />
<br />
38. Baby Beach.<br />
<br />
39. Running into my brother's buddies. He lived on Maui for 25 years and his friends miss him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1S_4UTO4IfmJzaP94b-ww_-E_HM_4a5XJgCYdO3LCVkgLWLESm9lJJqasP8HHjhCm38ucr_TOr9ntqJc0McaDWnipBkXUFXmdhZ4ZuI7WZDGrhwbyHNrZbZ6X1_VB797qZGETx7wswDA/s1600/cocktail+demo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1S_4UTO4IfmJzaP94b-ww_-E_HM_4a5XJgCYdO3LCVkgLWLESm9lJJqasP8HHjhCm38ucr_TOr9ntqJc0McaDWnipBkXUFXmdhZ4ZuI7WZDGrhwbyHNrZbZ6X1_VB797qZGETx7wswDA/s320/cocktail+demo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
40. The crazy-fun DIY cocktail class with the charming Chandra Lucariello.<br />
<br />
41. JAKE! Absolutely blown away by the magical performance of <a href="http://jakeshimabukuro.com/" target="_blank">Jake Shimabukuro</a>, ukulele rock star. What a joy to watch him!!<br />
<br />
42. Meeting the farmers at the market. So, so impressed by Ono Farms, Surfing Goat Dairy, Hana Fresh, Ho'O Pono Farm, Hana Herbs and Flowers, Olinda Organic Farm, Evonuk Farms, Otani Farm, Kula Country Farms and the righteous microgreens from Napili Flo Farm. <br />
<br />
43. Sitting at the bar at Mala. (Where my bro, Chris, used to work.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgJtwlh0Jh7O5PNpzTZZY4GP2ftAwF0jBKU1ZbTaFdKgQufwJ8Hwm_e7jAaS8fXYGN8p7K5E0EH6CQf8sFbkR3jf4ithqhyiPrhdUhVyEDFY7MBwxp03wG64WGwhZmLcBzi-wUQDV7ag/s1600/IMG_4416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgJtwlh0Jh7O5PNpzTZZY4GP2ftAwF0jBKU1ZbTaFdKgQufwJ8Hwm_e7jAaS8fXYGN8p7K5E0EH6CQf8sFbkR3jf4ithqhyiPrhdUhVyEDFY7MBwxp03wG64WGwhZmLcBzi-wUQDV7ag/s320/IMG_4416.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
44. Sitting at the bar at Mala. (Where my bro, Chris, used to work.)<br />
<br />
45. The seafood! Monchong, mahi mahi, uli and especially ahi tuna.<br />
<br />
46. Papaya. I don't eat this fruit anywhere but here.<br />
<br />
47. Maui Gold Pineapple! Especially when somebody else is cutting it up.<br />
<br />
48. Sugar cane swizzle sticks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9Eow5la-eicb_hAGsLICzuNMAG1Lti1qtJgT8LswIAHnWh_oEGhG43Tubk1KL1KNUeSdGXEX7KmPq2CSUB5wMe9Xj_pdZwVEZmyml7mMywEOP8bVQyyawwWq1S5VZVUxRYrHQJ5icPY/s1600/rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9Eow5la-eicb_hAGsLICzuNMAG1Lti1qtJgT8LswIAHnWh_oEGhG43Tubk1KL1KNUeSdGXEX7KmPq2CSUB5wMe9Xj_pdZwVEZmyml7mMywEOP8bVQyyawwWq1S5VZVUxRYrHQJ5icPY/s320/rainbow.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
49. Rainbows.<br />
<br />
50. The way people say "aloha" instead of "hi" and "bye."<br />
<br />
And speaking of so longs, I hate to leave, but as they say in the islands, <i><b>a hui hou</b></i>! Until we meet again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-39870816340007114612013-04-10T14:55:00.000-07:002013-04-10T14:57:33.874-07:00A Few Things About Me That Have Nothing Whatsoever To Do With Food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcI5EJRDaWTqQ473rECPO5pOGf22RPfSKrMSF2l20Kvjco2b1LHzR2BeB17I254ubIRdWT_gJZwTb41lZMt54fjxsDEbYKaJuuvdZvpeJkAafhdxbir73WrcyvDqImsns5GfGTXt314c/s1600/me+and+edgar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcI5EJRDaWTqQ473rECPO5pOGf22RPfSKrMSF2l20Kvjco2b1LHzR2BeB17I254ubIRdWT_gJZwTb41lZMt54fjxsDEbYKaJuuvdZvpeJkAafhdxbir73WrcyvDqImsns5GfGTXt314c/s320/me+and+edgar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
"You're all about the food," my darling ball and chain reminded me for the millionth time. He said it in response to my pointing out Arnold Palmer on the tee-vee. "There's the guy they named the iced tea after," I cried.<br />
<br />
Yes, I watch golf. (That's No. 1 thing that is non-food related.) Especially enjoy watching The Masters. I actually used to play golf. Like a lot. When we lived in Spokane, Johnny and I frequented the beautiful public courses like Indian Canyon, Hangman Creek, Esmeralda. We'd get in a quick nine holes after work. Twilight golf. But that was all BC, Before Claire. Golf takes up a helluva lot of time, something you don't have a lot to spare when you're new parents. Best case scenario is four hours, and that doesn't count time spent bending the elbow at the old 19th hole. My favorite part of a round on a hot afternoon. Now, I'm just an occasional spectator, though I might take it up again one of these days.<br />
<br />
I'm also an accidental Mariners fan. That dude I've shared my home with for decades bleeds Mariners blue, through bad times and good. He really should have been a color man, considering the dead-on commentary he runs while watching games, either at home or in the stadium. (It was a rough one last night, as we were part of the smallest crowd in the team's history, and they lost. By a lot.) Over the years, I've been swept up in the drama and the characters on the team. I've seen the guys of summer play at Arlington in Texas and in the old Yankees stadium. And, last week, I got to meet one of the legends of the game. I gushed like a 10-year-old version of myself, telling Edgar Martinez he has always been my favorite Mariner.<br />
<br />
Speaking of 10-year-old versions of myself, my nickname around that time was Bullfrog. Because I could burp louder than anyone in my class. Still can.<br />
<br />
Later, when I was doing a college internship, working at The Leavenworth Echo newspaper, I became known as Big Salmon. Because of my uncanny ability to leap out of the Wenatchee River like one of those fish. Still can.<br />
<br />
Back when I lived in Leavenworth -- from fourth to eighth grade, when we (briefly, thank god) moved to the hell hole known as Marysville -- I went to camp at what's now Sleeping Lady. One year, I was named top camper in our lodge, an honor that meant I had the cleanest fingernails and the smoothest sleeping bag. At Camp Field, we sang neat songs like "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor?" and I also won a pie eating contest. Still could. (And, yes, that last one is about food, but also sports. If you consider competitive eating sports.)<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I've been pretty much everywhere I've wanted to go, including taking a long train ride to a remote park north of the Arctic Circle in Norway and many years later went way down south to Buenos Aires. I spent two weeks working on a processing boat in Alaska before quitting because it was too damned hard working nearly round the clock. I was too tired to be terrified, even when the boat was hit by a storm that sent everything flying out of the pantry in the kitchen.<br />
In 1983, a cop in Telluride casually told me to quit smoking a joint on the street. Yes, sir!<br />
Also notable in Telluride, though not on the same trip, I met Margaret Hamilton at a film festival, star of The Wizard of Oz, and heard Jimmy Buffet play an acoustic show at the tiny Sheridan Theater, and I got pretty close to the top of one of those 14,000 peaks while wearing sneakers.<br />
And, yesterday, I listened to the story of one of those guys you see everywhere, holding a sign, asking for help. Those hard-luck tales remind me a little bit of my late father, who had success and blew it on more than one occasion. I wished the guy well, emptied my change purse into his shaky hand and wondered what's to become of me. Maybe someday I'll end up on a curb, holding a sign: Will Write For Food. Sure hope not!<br />
OK, enough about me, tell me about YOU!<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-82010141679591098052013-04-04T08:33:00.001-07:002013-04-04T08:33:53.474-07:00Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the dinner that never was...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSN_hep1FggWtf44NO0WW57xI789Yf5SGRoQUA4t6qjoml5Mk02WMUn1Pl6SKbOKCDHoWdQs8cI_4zEcdVUCA8co0A9qgtNn1Yile_0RPelsQJ5s1EaaI2ShZ4_SOfgFgt8caYkVe5Ryk/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSN_hep1FggWtf44NO0WW57xI789Yf5SGRoQUA4t6qjoml5Mk02WMUn1Pl6SKbOKCDHoWdQs8cI_4zEcdVUCA8co0A9qgtNn1Yile_0RPelsQJ5s1EaaI2ShZ4_SOfgFgt8caYkVe5Ryk/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div>
Here's a story I wrote in 2005:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. - legendary civil rights leader,
electrifiying preacher, foodie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
King was famous for his key role in the struggle for equality
through nonviolence and for sermons that inspired a nation. His good works are
well-documented, with more than 900 book titles listed on amazon.com.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there was another side to King that's seldom discussed,
a side that loved down-home Southern cooking such as pork chops, catfish, fried
chicken and peach cobbler.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Oh, he was a big eater. He never shied away from the
table, " said Dr. Bernard LaFayette, a distinguished scholar-in-residence
at the University of Rhode Island, who worked closely with King as a student
volunteer and Freedom Rider, and later as national coordinator for the poor
people's campaign King launched just before he was killed. "Growing up in
the Baptist church, so much centered around meals. The church was an extension
of your home."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
LaFayette said during that tumultuous time food was often eaten on the run.
"We ate a lot of Vienna sausage and potted meat out of a can, with soda
crackers, " he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Food - and lack of access to it - played a pivotal role in some
of the most memorable civil rights struggles including the sit-ins at
"whites only" lunch counters around the South.</div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Food also served to humanize the leaders of the movement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"It's good to remember Martin Luther King wasn't a
saint. He was a human being, with all the frailities and hopes human beings
have, " said Rev. Samuel "Billy" Kyles, pastor at Monumental
Baptist Church and an associate of King's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Taylor Branch's "Pillar of Fire", the author
described a familiar scene during a trip through Mississippi: "(Dr. King)
took extra time at one highway rest stop to snack on pickled pig's feet from a
large display jar on the counter of a rural store. (Ralph) Abernathy and others
joined him to gnaw through one foot after another, leaning forward to keep from
dripping on their suits, while they enjoyed the queasy abstention of Andrew
Young."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When King and his considerable entourage had the chance to
sit down to a meal, shop talk was unofficially off the table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Dinner was so much more than dinner, " said
Kyles. "When you got a chance to sit down to a meal, it was an occasion.
There was good conversation, fellowship, fun and jokes. The discussion might
drift off to something more serious, but generally, dinner wasn't the time for
planning."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tradition of fellowship and food has roots back to
slavery, Kyles said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"There wasn't much pleasureable going on in the lives
of slaves except for food, " he said. "They took the leftovers, the
throwaways like chitlins and made delicacies out of them."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kyles planned to take King to dinner at his home on April 4,
1968, when the civil rights leader was shot on the balcony of the Lorraine
Motel. The meal, which had been cooked at the church by a number of female
members , included many of King's favorite dishes: fried chicken, ham, sweet
potatoes, two kinds of greens, crowder peas, sweet potato pie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I got there about 5 to pick him up, but in reality,
dinner was at 6, " Kyles said. "He said he was in no hurry. I had the
great privilege of spending that last hour with him."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what did they talk about?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"He wanted to know what was for dinner, " Kyles
said. "He knew I had just bought a new house and he told me how he had
been to dinner at this preacher's house in Atlanta... he said, they couldn't
afford furniture after buying that house so they ate on card tables and the ham
was cold, the Kool-Aid was hot and the biscuits were hard. He teased me, saying
that if I had bought a new house and couldn't afford a proper dinner that he
was going to broadcast that on the radio."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Virginia Boyland was one of the women who had helped cook
the lavish spread. "I remember we wanted everything to be perfect, "
she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She spent hours washing greens and cutting up and frying
chicken. "It was well known that he loved food, " said Boyland, who
remembered macaroni and cheese as another favorite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kyles referred to that meal as "the dinner that never
was." "I told those ladies they had the privilege of cooking the last
meal for Dr. King. It was never eaten, but it was prepared."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Adjua A. Naantaabuu had cooked steak for King and his
entourage the night before he was killed, the night he made his famous
"I've Been to the Mountaintop" speech.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I was asked if I would prepare some food, " said
Naantaabuu, who was involved in efforts to support the sanitation strike.
"I fixed a steak dinner, baked potato, tossed salad, iced tea, some
broccoli, " she said. "I was grateful to do that. In those days,
blacks couldn't go to restaurants. Well, there weren't many restaurants you
could go to."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Naantaabuu said Abernathy asked her to make the group
spaghetti and chitlins the next night. "The table was set. I had fallen
asleep in front of the TV waiting for them, and the phone woke me up. I heard
he had been shot, " she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn't unusual for King to have two dinners scheduled on
the same night, said LaFayette.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Everybody wanted him to come to their home, "
said LaFayette, who has established centers for nonviolence throughout the
world. "If you followed Dr. King, you ate well. It was those second
dinners that could make you fat, but not him. He burned up all that
energy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lewis Bobo, who owns The Gay Hawk restaurant on Danny
Thomas, said he remembers King coming into the restaurants in the late '60s.
"A couple of police officiers came in with him, " he said. "They
had fried chicken and some shrimp."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
LaFayette said he never recalled King ordering one soul food
classic: chitlins. "There was only one person who cooked chitlins he liked
and that was Mrs. Abernathy. We used to call her the chitlin queen."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meals did not have to be lavish or elaborate for King to
have enjoyed them, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"We ate a lot of baloney sandwiches, " Kyles said.
"You never knew how many might be eating, but there always seemed to be
enough, even in the most humble shacks in Mississippi."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
LaFayette recalled more than a few meals of chicken feet and
rice. "There was always rice to fill out the dish, " he said.
"But there was always dessert."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it came to something sweet, nothing topped peach
cobbler for King.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Mama King made the best peach cobbler, but he made a
point of trying to find one like his mama made, " LaFayette said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While celebrations of Dr. King's birthday tend toward serious
discussions and community marches, at least one restaurant throws a party of which King would certainly approve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For 19 years, The White Dog Cafe in Philadelphia has served
traditional Southern dishes and a chocolate birthday cake to commemorate a man
who social activist/restaurateur Judy Wicks said is her role model.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"We started the dinner a year before his birthday
became a holiday, " said Wicks, who makes it a point to reread some of
King's books this time of year and keeps her favorite King quote framed and
hanging in her office. "The first year we tried to do all his favorite
foods. I read somewhere how much he loved ice cream, and we always have
chocolate cake and ice cream."<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-13129110358502877132013-04-01T10:46:00.001-07:002013-04-01T10:47:41.146-07:00This Is No April Fool's Joke!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgFg15THL-6B8Z3NNsM0FGOrg3XYSSqwm4826blzufwv8xDuqgOWQTdrdziYbWnPxKTNAA9zpqEix8e0MmyL7Ns58i9kFq_7Nb6K_ZocXMMaqieCRE1cvxyO9xnoeqOeKl8tjrVtb59A/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgFg15THL-6B8Z3NNsM0FGOrg3XYSSqwm4826blzufwv8xDuqgOWQTdrdziYbWnPxKTNAA9zpqEix8e0MmyL7Ns58i9kFq_7Nb6K_ZocXMMaqieCRE1cvxyO9xnoeqOeKl8tjrVtb59A/s320/IMG_5537.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Four years ago today, I went to work in professional kitchens, starting with the Dahlia Bakery. It was quite an experience, one I documented in a regular column called <a href="http://www.seriouseats.com/2009/04/laidoff-restaurant-critics-plan-b-cook-leslie-kelly.html" target="_blank">Critic-Turned-Cook</a>, which appeared on Serious Eats for more than a year. I was planning on turning this culinary adventure into a blockbuster movie -- Susan Saradon would play me -- after my memoir became a best seller, but, well... could never get an agent interested in pitching it. That's the way it crumbles, cookie wise.<br />
<br />
Anyway, what the heck, I recently re-read this section of my sample chapter and still think it's pretty fun:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">My eyes open just before the alarm was set to
go off. Groan. It’s 4:47. I barely slept. I am so excited about my first day on
the job in Tom Douglas’s pastry kitchen, I feel like it's Christmas morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">After I got my food handler’s card, I had
filled out the necessary paperwork, studied the company handbook and spent
hours practicing my knife skills. “Pretend like you’re shaking hands with it,”
one You Tube video instructed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Still, I wonder if I can cut it. I’ve
never worked in a professional kitchen. I feel like I’m bringing my kazoo to
play with a symphony orchestra. But I do want to play. I’m game. That should
count, right? Showing up is half the battle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">At 4:49, my poor husband, John, is
finally sleeping after hours of wrestling the insomnia demon, so I quickly and
quietly dress in the dark, go downstairs and guzzle a cup of dark roast before
starting the 25-minute walk downtown to the restaurant, past the glowing Space
Needle and homeless men sleeping in doorways. A cyclist blows past, his
headlamp illuminating the rain-filled potholes on the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s April Fool’s Day. How fitting I
begin this kooky quest on this silly holiday. I feel like the set-up to a bad
gag. “A washed-up critic walks into a kitchen…”</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I feel shaky, like I am going to throw
up. I don’t know what to expect. I beat myself up as doubts creep in: What was
I thinking when I concocted this hair-brained scheme?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">At the bakery door, I ring the bell and
Phil answers. He’s my Obie-Wan, a seasoned veteran who leads me through the
dark kitchen of Dahlia Lounge into adjacent pastry kitchen and into the light.
There, in this warm space, the sweet scent of sugar and butter and flour hits
me like a blast from the distant past. It smells like Nana’s kitchen. Phil
shows me where to hang my coat and hands me an apron. I’m in! I am officially a
uniformed member of the food brigade. Before long, Phil gives me my orders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">First up, the rest of the kitchen tour:
Staples like spices are arranged neatly on a shelf above a workstation. Sugar
and flour are stored in bins the size of huge trash cans, which are refilled
daily. Finished pastries, milk, cream and sugar are in the walk in fridge. In
this rambling space, the team of 10 creates pastries for all the restaurants
and the Dahlia Bakery, a list of nearly 50 various goodies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">But in this kitchen, Coconut Pie is king.
It’s the signature dessert and many hands touch this ultra-rich preparation,
including mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I’m there 20 minutes and Phil sticks a whipped cream-filled
pastry bag in my hand and turns me loose on a tray of teensy coconut pie bites
for a catering job. “The trick is to squeeze gently from the top,” he
instructs. “Twist it.” He plops the cream in the bag as adeptly as a pitcher
delivers a fastball to the plate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">After topping the 20<sup>th</sup> little
pie, I want to brag: “Hey, look. I think I’ve got it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">But then, I look over at cake expert
Anna. She’s dicing rhubarb with the skill of a surgeon. And there’s second-in-command,
Randi, the former teacher who is a master multitasker, juggling cookies and
cakes and placing orders and restocking shelves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">My whipped cream accomplishment suddenly
feels so small. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Three hours and hundreds of pies later, I
feel like crying. My feet are on fire. I’m wearing sneakers and my soles are
screaming: “Sit down! Take a load off! You’re killing us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve still got four hours before I clock
out and I’m in the walk-in frantically scanning the shelves for butter. I’m
trying to be helpful, to dodge the steady stream of bodies moving through the
tight space, singing: “Corner!” “Coming through hot!” “Right behind you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Forget the reference to playing with the
symphony orchestra. These talented ladies and gentlemen are graceful dancers. Except
instead of lifting bodies on stage, they’re wrestling 50-pound pots of molten
custard and scalding-hot sheet pans filled with the most incredible chocolate
truffle cookies. The timers on three ovens buzz steadily and the team calls
audibles: “Bottom left!” So nobody spaces out something that’s baking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I haven’t even been here a full shift and
any pretense of the old critic’s objectivity has been shredded like the coconut
flakes poured into the Hobart mixer. I am in awe. How do these people do this?
How do they take simple ingredients and turn them into something that prompts
moans of pleasure? While standing on their poor, tired feet all damn day. It’s
obviously a calling. Like the way I knew I had to be a writer my first day on
the high school newspaper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yes, of course, I had been on the
receiving end of this sweet effort. But in the magical spell cast in a well-run
dining room, you don’t necessarily think about what’s going on behind the
curtain. It’s like going to a play or a movie. It’s entertainment and, if
you’re lucky, you can just give into the pleasure on the plate or on the stage
or screen. And that’s what I had done when I reviewed Dahlia Lounge, Tom’s
flagship restaurant, just a few weeks before the plug was pulled at the <i>P-I</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">. I gave it three and a half stars,
missing the perfect four just barely. One funky-tasting batch of crab cakes
shaved a half star. As a critic, I often wondered how everything could be on
target except one glaring mistake. Or how a kitchen could be so “on” one night
and so “off” another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, where is that butter? I look around,
feeling like an idiot. I know it’s probably right in front of me. I feel woozy,
a potent mix of nerves and lack of sleep and oh, my aching feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The chilly walk-in must contain a million
calories worth of goodies stored on rolling shelves known as speed racks. It
smells like heaven even at 36 degrees. I’m so tempted to sneak a snack, but
that would not be right. Not on my first day. Focus. Focus. “If I were butter,
where would I live?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">OK, of course, there it is, in a huge
box, by the door. Now I remember. Hadn’t Phil pointed it out just a few hours
ago? I can’t remember being so tired since the summer I got fired working on a
salmon processing boat in Alaska.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Before the day is done, I dice rhubarb for
pie, staining my fingers red, and help make filling for the bakery’s version of
Fig Newton cookies. I snip the top off dried dates, a mundane task usually done
by the dishwasher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I run dough the wrong way through a
machine that stands in for a rolling pin, it nearly flies off the counter. I
feel like I’m in an episode of “I Love Lucy.” Except it’s not funny. I am
mortified. Everybody is watching. They must think I’m a complete incompetent,
but Joe reassures. “Don’t worry. It’s happened to everybody,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">At home, I use my food processor all the
time, but these industrial versions are like driving a sports car when you’re
used to an old clunker. I later learn how to start the giant mixer on the
lowest speed and bring it up slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">When pastry chef Garrett’s I-Pod shuffle
lands on “Beat It” as I stand with Phil by the Hobart mixer, creaming butter
and sugar for gingersnaps, I crack wise: “Hey, talk about the perfect song for
what we’re doing.” “I don’t like Michael Jackson,” he grumps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">There are two giant wooden tables in the
center of the room, and six cooks share the space, notebooks filled with to-do
lists open in front of them. Like the newsroom, there’s a fair amount of
congenial chatter, punctuated by periods of intense silence. Nobody takes a
break. Nobody sits down for lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I do my very best to be helpful, to be
quiet and stay under the radar. But, I’m nosy by nature, one of the reasons I
got into the news gathering business. And soon, I ask my new work buddies for
recommendations on what kind of shoes will put me out of my misery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I love my Birkies,” said Carol, a former
corporate bigwig who’s now known as the piecrust queen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">There is no consensus. Crocs. Danskos.
Garrett, the sharp-dressing pastry chef, sports Chuck Taylor high-tops.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the days that follow, I become
obsessed with feet. I look at shoes the checker at the supermarket wears. I
scope out my mailman’s footwear and study the “Shoes for Crews” catalog like
it’s going to bring me sweet relief, some measure of comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">After decades of sitting on my ass behind
a computer, I feel a new kinship with people who stand on their feet while
making a living. It’s insanely exhausting. I do not complain, except when I
call my newly unemployed husband after my shift and whimper: “Can you please
come and pick me up?” I can’t bear to walk the three blocks to the bus stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m not a baby. I vow to try and follow
my own standard advice and “Man up!” But man, the sad state of my feet rules my
life. From this moment on, I never take the glorious act of sitting down for
granted. It’s a gift when tush meets cush, and I start to feel sheepish that I
ever criticized people who have to make a living doing this wicked hard work
while standing on their feet for 10 hours at a time. If I had only known, would
my barbs have been so sharp?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">A toss-off line I meant to be clever came
back to bite me on my second day in the pastry kitchen when Carol asks what
made the coconut cream pie at The Shanty so special?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stammer: “Ah, ummmm. I think it was
such a surprise that a diner had such good pies. You could really taste the
coconut.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">In a “Cheap Eats” review of The Shanty
years before meeting Carol, I wrote: “This place might have the best pie I’ve
ever put in my mouth. (Apologies to Mom and Tom Douglas.)”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Meant to be sassy, but I can see now
where it comes off as smart ass-y.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
really did want to eat humble pie at that moment, though, because the diner
does desserts when the owner has time and the Tom Douglas pastry kitchen cranks
those coco pies out seven days a week. They’re the signature dessert and
they’re kind of hated in the pastry kitchen. Like the way a big sister hates
her annoying, ever-present snot-nose brother who always gets more attention no
matter how many cute and crazy-clever treats she creates. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> After demonstrating I was up for doing just about anything,
Garrett issued me a challenge: “What if you did a project on your own?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gulp. This greenhorn turns a deep shade
of jade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I don’t know if I’m up to it,” I said,
knowing instantly I’m missing a golden opportunity. Garrett is giving me the
chance to sink or swim and I choose to stay on shore. What a chump.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fortunately, I soon redeem myself by
offering an on-the-spot review.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Shelley’s coming in to taste the rhubarb
hand pie,” Garrett told a few people on the pastry team and they flew into
action like firefighters sliding down the shiny pole. The fire they were
tending to was to ready a dessert for one of the company’s top dogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Who’s Shelley?” I ask Phil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“She’s been with Tom since the beginning.
She tests recipes and co-writes his cookbooks,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
frenzied scene that follows is like something I imagined kitchens do when they
figure out a critic is in the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Assembling all the pieces for this pie
was quite a production. One person made the filling; another cut garnishes with
painstaking precision. The dough fell to Joe, the former massage therapist who
has magic fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">When this rhubarb-stuffed turnover came
out of the oven, Garrett stuck a fork in my hand and asked for an evaluation.
But my sharp edges were already softened. All I could murmur was, “Mmmm!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I later took advantage of my Tom Douglas
employee discount and ordered one of these spectacular desserts at Serious Pie.
One I didn’t have to share. So. Damn. Good. Four stars. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">As much as I missed eating out on the
expense account, I loved the freedom of eating for the pure pleasure of it.
When you’re reviewing a restaurant, you must be focused, dissecting every bite
looking for clues and taking extensive mental notes. (Notes, madly typed back
at home on my laptop shortly after paying the tab.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">During review dinners, friends would
sometimes get annoyed because my eyes would wander. I watched tables around me,
taking the temperature of the room. Is everybody happy? Or are diners hungry
and cranky, waiting way too long for food? It was always my objective to
capture a snapshot of a place, as an observer. The frustration came when there
were problems with consistency, a revolving door at the kitchen, short cuts
taken to plump the bottom line. Restaurants are not like movies. They are so
many variables. The best ones get it right most of the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">After getting a behind-the-scenes glimpse
how of food gets to the table, it reaffirms my belief that every well-prepared
meal is a minor miracle. I feel so fortunate to play even a very tiny part in
it. I smile, thinking of the murmurs of delight sure to be unleashed after
eating one of those coconut bites and truffle cookies and fig Newtons I helped
to make. Yes, my feet hurt so much I want to cry, but I walk out of the kitchen
after surviving that first day and I feel like I’m on a sugar high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My new generic kitchen clogs arrive a few days later and I rip open the
box to try them on. I feel like a new woman. I slowly start to find my feet,
feeling like I might actually fit in and contribute. Maybe, just maybe, I could
cut it.</span><!--EndFragment-->
Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-19381266097437106882013-03-22T16:18:00.000-07:002013-03-22T16:18:04.686-07:00Craving A Taste From Childhood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJTFH7EKVErVS-ep409l0bamgQfjqjJjgu4s8WV2Fbk1M1LhXw1FMPj6FJnXQ6_9yUBOK9yDlz8etJWmStVaLwksh1ILu2KFhSdrqfKFrTvXOze0lG0j7VRatN032OESywQsT_xflnb8/s1600/honore+bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJTFH7EKVErVS-ep409l0bamgQfjqjJjgu4s8WV2Fbk1M1LhXw1FMPj6FJnXQ6_9yUBOK9yDlz8etJWmStVaLwksh1ILu2KFhSdrqfKFrTvXOze0lG0j7VRatN032OESywQsT_xflnb8/s320/honore+bakery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Nostalgia can be so bittersweet, especially when it's unexpected.<br />
<br />
This morning, I dropped my car off for service in Ballard. There was an hour to kill, so I walked to Honore, a lovely bakery that makes beautiful and delicious pastries. And, boom, I found myself on the street where my great grandmother, Signe, lived when I was a little squirt.<br />
<br />
We called her GG, which sounds vaguely French, but she was straight-off-the-boat Swedish, one of those big, soft, old-world women who smelled like lemon drops and moth balls. There, on my morning walk, I spied the kitchen window I had looked out of many years ago while drinking coffee with cream and three teaspoons of sugar. At that sturdy table, she fed us damn fine fried chicken. Sheee-con, she pronounced it. She used to buy a live bird at a butcher down the street. They'd slaughter it and she'd bring it home and bread it and fry it and -- not really sure why -- she'd finish it in a pressure cooker. It was tender, but soggy. Like the pork in sweet and sour pork.<br />
<br />
Walking past that house stirred some powerful memories. Of riding the bus downtown with her, of being slightly embarrassed because she seemed addled with age. Of watching her make delicate cookies at Christmas and of the feud that simmered for years between she and her daughter, my grandmother, Sigrid. The true story of their festering rancor is buried with them. There's nobody left to illuminate the hurt. When GG died, she left her daughter $10 and said it was because she had been to see her once in the past 20 years. She actually put that in the will. That had to burn my grandmother because she cared about money so deeply.<br />
<br />
GG left me and my sister and brother a whole bunch more than that, to be in trust for us until we turned 21. The $12,000 I received was like a fortune back then and I put it to good use, traveling around Europe after college, discovering so many incredible flavors and having a mostly wonderful time. That gift sent me down the path that I'm still on today, the never-ending search for food made with love and the stories behind the people who grow or make that food.<br />
<br />
I ordered a croissant at Honore, and it did take me back, flashing on the first time I had a real French pastry on my very first trip to Paris. It sounds so corny, but that bite changed my life for the better.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-1733278836625710662013-03-16T09:31:00.001-07:002013-03-16T09:34:39.762-07:00Enter Kingford's One-Bite Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuT2EN08_sDTYdqzMk7En6BhvmpMpMkvNowe0p-YJDCXNSjlOooazgRp-NHVX5pvyk1OK2asIsYL652sbwe3Id0dGXf1y4KgUKbXgWUYot3fF4Sn6pVNBnUT9j_0QVV5etCLvy9WSiZO4/s1600/PB100147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuT2EN08_sDTYdqzMk7En6BhvmpMpMkvNowe0p-YJDCXNSjlOooazgRp-NHVX5pvyk1OK2asIsYL652sbwe3Id0dGXf1y4KgUKbXgWUYot3fF4Sn6pVNBnUT9j_0QVV5etCLvy9WSiZO4/s320/PB100147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
At most barbecue competitions, the focus on cooking tough pieces of meat low and slow. The embers of charcoal and/or wood coax maximum tenderness from shoulder and brisket after a long, long time. Pitmasters stay up all night, making sure the fires burn evenly. That's true commitment and you can taste the love.<br />
<br />
That's probably why I respect and admire these slow cookers so much. There are no short cuts, no tricks they can play to create the most memorable bites, what they hope will be a grand champ after the meat has been turned in, tasted and judged.<br />
<br />
But there was a delicious detour from the low-and-slow agenda at the first-ever Kingsford Charcoal Invitational, held last fall near St. Louis. The teams gathered to cook in this competition represented the best of the best, the ultimate battle of the Grand Champions, and it was so on. While this was by far the smallest competition I've ever witnessed, it was also the most dead-serious. Sure, a few beers were enjoyed, but everybody brought their A games, many hauling their custom rigs great distances to participate.<br />
<br />
The warm-up to the big show, the tasty tease, if you will, was the One-Bite Challenge: Prepare an appetizer lickety-split using just five ingredients, grill it and wow the distinguished panel of judges, including my pal <a href="http://17bbq.com/behind-the-scenes-at-the-kingsford-invitational-and-a-chance-for-you-to-win/" target="_blank"><b>Amy Mills</b>.</a> I'm not going to reveal who won the One-Bite because it's all going to be featured on an hour-long show <a href="http://america.discovery.com/tv-shows/tv-schedule.htm" target="_blank"><b>March 17 on Destination Americ</b>a</a> -- part of a BBQ Pitmasters marathon! I'll just say that I was completely in agreement with the judges.<br />
<br />
Now, here's something very cool: You can demonstrate your considerable cooking chops by entering Kingsford Charcoal's One-Bite Challenge. Winner gets a trip to Memphis in May's World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest, aka the Super Bowl of Swine. (I'll be there this year!)<br />
<br />
It's easy to enter. Just submit your five favorite ingredients and a recipe name to <a href="http://grilling.com/"><b>Grilling.com</b></a>. Entries are accepted until April 15. Oh, and here's a fantastic recipe from that challenge cooked up by the reigning barbecue queen, Melissa Cookston. <b>Go Yazoo's Delta Q!!</b><br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
<b>Grilled Bacon-Wrapped Stuffed Shrimp<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<b>Makes: 20 servings<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<b>Prep time: 30 minutes<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<b>Cook time: 5-10 minutes<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<b>YOU’LL NEED<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
20 Gulf shrimp<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
20 slices pepper-cured bacon<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
1 8-ounce rectangular package cream cheese<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
1 jar whole pickled Jalapeños<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Thai sweet chili sauce<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<b>INSTRUCTIONS<u></u><u></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0.25in;">
<u></u>1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><u></u>Preheat a grill to medium-high heat using <span class="il" style="background-color: #ffffcc;">Kingsford</span>® charcoal. While grill preheats, peel and devein shrimp, leaving tails on.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0.25in;">
<u></u>2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><u></u>Cook bacon directly on the grill grate until it is close to being fully cooked, but is not crispy. Set aside.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0.25in;">
<u></u>3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><u></u>Slice cream cheese into 1/4 x 1/4 x 1/2-inch long slices. Select pickled jalapenos that are roughly the same dimensions as the cream cheese. Remove stems and seeds.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0.25in;">
<u></u>4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><u></u>Place one strip of cream cheese and one jalapeno piece on each shrimp, then wrap with a slice of grilled bacon. Secure with a toothpick, then place the shrimp with tails on the cool side of the grill so they won’t burn.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0.25in;">
<u></u>5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><u></u>Cook for 2-3 minutes until bacon is crispy and the shrimp is pink throughout. Remove from fire, brush liberally with Thai sweet chili sauce and serve.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<i>Recipe created by the Yazoo’s Delta Q competition barbecue team for the One Bite Challenge category of the <span class="il" style="background-color: #ffffcc;">Kingsford</span>® <span class="il" style="background-color: #ffffcc;">Invitational</span>.</i><u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<u></u></div>
Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-69519044681566054962013-01-28T15:19:00.000-08:002013-01-28T15:19:16.280-08:00It's Never Too Late To Learn To Cook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyr3yX50ULUPjKtokDppMPuylzrwPwcdwP1jOVGO-dFiUOHQQBtzMsOnEVwtJxNS7YxkZA5V4XnZVB3hQX4CV63xJ_o3vaNfV9TBE0dNR_xz2_Hx2YrnsApue48yI9n8o-7l69WWkeiU/s1600/IMG_5540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyr3yX50ULUPjKtokDppMPuylzrwPwcdwP1jOVGO-dFiUOHQQBtzMsOnEVwtJxNS7YxkZA5V4XnZVB3hQX4CV63xJ_o3vaNfV9TBE0dNR_xz2_Hx2YrnsApue48yI9n8o-7l69WWkeiU/s320/IMG_5540.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
My BRAM (brudder from another muther) just told me that he's started cooking in his semi-retirement. Well, he has cooked before, but now, he's actually using recipes and ENJOYING himself. He then listed dishes he'd made recently, including poached salmon.<br />
This makes me so happy that I decided to share the super simple cookbook I created for Baby Girl. A short list of her faves including extra cheesy mac, Thai curry for a crowd and meatloaf like her grandma used to make.<br />
I guess it tickles me so much to think of others getting a kick out of taking ingredients and turning them into dinner, but more so when somebody is late getting on board the cooking express. After years, cooking is a no-brainer for me. I rarely use recipes... (for better and, sometimes, for worse)...<br />
But the neat thing is that no matter how long you've been cooking, you can ALWAYS learn something new.<br />
Not shocking, but still feel a little sheepish admitting that I'm a big fan of the Food Network stars so many dismiss or mock. Yes, it pains me to see Rachael Ray or Giada open cans of broth, but that's how a hell of a lot of busy people cook, so get over it. They give good recipes.<br />
Here's one from Giada for <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/sweet-potato-strings-with-beet-ketchup-recipe/index.html" target="_blank">sweet potato shoestring fries</a> with beet ketchup I'm passing along to my buddy. Maybe not the best for a "beginner" who doesn't own a mandolin. Still, it might be inspiring.<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-21963415230254863442012-12-20T15:14:00.001-08:002012-12-20T15:14:21.494-08:00Seeking Comfort... In Food And Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9bpEM-izGaxTAGn5n1HFv13dwxyifUNuktr4qUuIQmVghoewthUk04Mofor8fmgicJ63rlK46f5kUyXmjH2fzuUhVKUSB-HBZb8UADhiYzMlFfdiTHTRFqWmqKAIqvXRDtmOLZ7f_-Y/s1600/seatown.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9bpEM-izGaxTAGn5n1HFv13dwxyifUNuktr4qUuIQmVghoewthUk04Mofor8fmgicJ63rlK46f5kUyXmjH2fzuUhVKUSB-HBZb8UADhiYzMlFfdiTHTRFqWmqKAIqvXRDtmOLZ7f_-Y/s320/seatown.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Since the tragic, shocking, heart-breaking shooting last week, I've been feeling like so many human beings: hopeless, deeply sad, super pissed. I have stewed about what I could do to try and make a difference, making me feeling more morose.<br />
<br />
It certainly didn't feel right to be plugged in to my usual social networking community. Tweeting about what I was eating would have been beyond insulting to the memories of those victims, to the little children and the grow-ups who died trying to protect them. Each time, I see a new photo of one of those poor, sweet children, it stabs me in the heart. How can I post Facebook photos of a batch of English toffee?<br />
<br />
So, I stayed away. Or, I tried to. When I did check in on Twitter, it was awash in links to anti-gun petitions and more sad, sad news that was hard to read. And then, on Sunday, there was another shocking loss. Poet Jake Adam York, the brother of my friend, Joe, died after having a stroke. He was just 40 and such a bright spirit. If I lived near Joe and his lovely wife, Kathryn, I would make them a casserole. The universal sign of sincere sympathy.<br />
<br />
Cooking -- and eating -- always brings me such comfort. A way to show I care and I love to share. So, I made cookies. I took myself out to lunch, to be surrounded by the happy buzz of conversation, a scene that made it seem as if anything was possible. Don't you love how food brings people together? That feeling of community is what I love about connecting online, talking turkey and bacon and barbecue, cookbooks and delicious blog posts and controversial lists.<br />
<br />
Maybe dissecting every bite and photographing each dish might be over-the-top, but there's another way of looking at things: There's nothing wrong with a little diversion. I'm not going to stick my head in the compost and ignore what's going on in the world. But maybe talking about food can be kind of like a balm. Like that casserole I long to deliver to my friends, an edible gesture to show I care.<br />
<br />
I will not forget about those sad stories, the loss so many families must face. But I'm slowly indulging my need to connect with that online food community. Will I see you there?Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-82451225219698815052012-12-02T21:34:00.001-08:002012-12-02T21:34:59.219-08:00Best Bites of 2012, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ZLNpGUY3A2jr2_Tm7UYN8oRtw25V2Urj3BNLFzBv6FyBnL4r32BuHltVo57yiDqWbcMjvbD9HQypLybq2bS2aeSWXpxnT3TxXjzmIdXqFNWBFw4o1w9qb4r1GVNeI8d-xEX43aI59Y/s1600/IMG_5148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ZLNpGUY3A2jr2_Tm7UYN8oRtw25V2Urj3BNLFzBv6FyBnL4r32BuHltVo57yiDqWbcMjvbD9HQypLybq2bS2aeSWXpxnT3TxXjzmIdXqFNWBFw4o1w9qb4r1GVNeI8d-xEX43aI59Y/s320/IMG_5148.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDj5Rs8jOk5kPKv19wqW0hMa51GV9GQ2jfpMTPjh3fcXiMIFIzSDIYGsvCa-SfpCFhU8EwF2rQpgTMw1myYkDFhBCEmBwUju0wJAcF9k_VhUwpDRzThNOze3_NNzoIDbKYyqf8fczBWww/s1600/IMG_1236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDj5Rs8jOk5kPKv19wqW0hMa51GV9GQ2jfpMTPjh3fcXiMIFIzSDIYGsvCa-SfpCFhU8EwF2rQpgTMw1myYkDFhBCEmBwUju0wJAcF9k_VhUwpDRzThNOze3_NNzoIDbKYyqf8fczBWww/s320/IMG_1236.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQaeVBIKlvTrVpvpOQLjDpCWEpN4JPefX3ewgf5Xan_OLtVVH8Z-ncoOnBGAoghhyphenhyphenwVn2FFvI_6nni4iNjLP_lxtd2bjy_EuW3twKpgOa5QXIHaK3y9TQjURuFjgW03BxA5QJshrNna0/s1600/IMG_1003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQaeVBIKlvTrVpvpOQLjDpCWEpN4JPefX3ewgf5Xan_OLtVVH8Z-ncoOnBGAoghhyphenhyphenwVn2FFvI_6nni4iNjLP_lxtd2bjy_EuW3twKpgOa5QXIHaK3y9TQjURuFjgW03BxA5QJshrNna0/s320/IMG_1003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Let's call this batch the home cooking edition. I made a promise to myself to try more new recipes this year, but it's so easy to fall back into comfortable old habits. I do not like following recipes, which makes it difficult to learn new tricks.<br />
<br />
Yet, I love to be shown how to do something. That means everything from watching Jacques Pepin make a terrific chicken dish at the Aspen Food & Wine Classic and recreated it back home. His recipes make you look like a hero. (Wish I had a photo of JP and me, but that's me with Marcus Samuelsson at the event instead!<br />
<br />
The most fun I had, though, was watching my friend Takako make sushi, family style. Takako spent the better part of June living in our spare room. She's the friend of a friend, who happens to live in the neighborhood. Takako is 73 and she met my friends Trinity and Robert a few years ago while hiking in Spain. She lives in Osaka, a retired school teacher, who once taught Yu Darvish, a pitcher on the Texas Rangers. He was naughty.<br />
<br />
We went shopping at Uwajimaya for fish and produce, but Takako had brought rice with her from Japan. She showed me how to cut up the fish, season the rice, make platters that looked pretty. We placed it all in the middle of the table and she showed us -- me, John and Claire -- how to assemble our own hand rolls. It was a lovely meal.<br />
<br />
I also loved the time Claire's friend Izzy came over for a fried chicken lesson. When I asked her to pick up some lard, she brought Crisco. Close, but...<br />
<br />
What were some of your most memorable meals this year?Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-30368225889538905832012-11-20T11:36:00.001-08:002012-11-20T11:36:36.894-08:00Best Bites From 2012, Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9_-W0JCyxN1w_ifw-kJBgqbS7BJyHdSRTMwfztikGeTjNDbmCLAT4QuXV6SZS5UAVCrbKeoLlVC-kp1HKJUWV-eHwu8YocTUj1BVFrh8PvTLXQW_J8HS2UHy6QfOUrzxt1mkqGHGqIk/s1600/IMG_0528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9_-W0JCyxN1w_ifw-kJBgqbS7BJyHdSRTMwfztikGeTjNDbmCLAT4QuXV6SZS5UAVCrbKeoLlVC-kp1HKJUWV-eHwu8YocTUj1BVFrh8PvTLXQW_J8HS2UHy6QfOUrzxt1mkqGHGqIk/s320/IMG_0528.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rEdu-1CH0OU8dYi1eUv71uB8vP3KVdbrFFs3GrHRUm91s_iom0uUe1tM2OAwQFhP8IZkVaP9TQ6JH3fPmxQ8zjTCLFWAGv5NhVhPSqNmtv6bTd7DVMjFrp0BhR67Y8hwe11ekY5x8Hg/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rEdu-1CH0OU8dYi1eUv71uB8vP3KVdbrFFs3GrHRUm91s_iom0uUe1tM2OAwQFhP8IZkVaP9TQ6JH3fPmxQ8zjTCLFWAGv5NhVhPSqNmtv6bTd7DVMjFrp0BhR67Y8hwe11ekY5x8Hg/s320/IMG_1100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeoTejWP_2SAWpuTQFymphqvxQFPr8J-OzH68miIhIwHKR-6iELFn_Uginvq_cVKbydeSS3D7Pd8tLi7thPtVXSfnFAIgwEaaVLwp2PvUXYvwEStKHy1C0z8WX6KVHv2Lft5fkLzBP10/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeoTejWP_2SAWpuTQFymphqvxQFPr8J-OzH68miIhIwHKR-6iELFn_Uginvq_cVKbydeSS3D7Pd8tLi7thPtVXSfnFAIgwEaaVLwp2PvUXYvwEStKHy1C0z8WX6KVHv2Lft5fkLzBP10/s320/IMG_1294.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk26Rz1iqkD3DN_HvvR7k373Y6el6Eqiut71u6cOdpLJwHhZLf1pGHmXawVFsVsnYlzePVJScDemcFAIlwM02FLCU0rgIf5ptevZy_xoc4uKI-VdHjA65Kek6vAYfWKeORoQBHXI4C_jY/s1600/IMG_1692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk26Rz1iqkD3DN_HvvR7k373Y6el6Eqiut71u6cOdpLJwHhZLf1pGHmXawVFsVsnYlzePVJScDemcFAIlwM02FLCU0rgIf5ptevZy_xoc4uKI-VdHjA65Kek6vAYfWKeORoQBHXI4C_jY/s320/IMG_1692.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
What a wonderful, very filling year! Was reviewing my food snaps from the past 12 months, and, dang, there were some mighty memorable meals.<br />
<br />
I traveled to Hawaii and gorged on poke, mango and drank from a coconut every day I was there. Then, there was a star-studded trip to the Aspen Food & Wine Classic, an epic road trip that stirred up powerful waves of nostalgia for early days in my newspaper career in Colorado. Los Angeles was a blast, especially the brilliant bites at Mexicatessan in Eagle Rock. Oh, those crispy duck skin tacos!<br />
<br />
There are still lots of days on the 2012, but I doubt anything can top the competition barbecue I pigged out on at the Kingsford Invitational in Belle, Missouri. So, so tender/smoky/messy good!<br />
<br />
Still, no matter how from home I roam, I come back to Seattle so pumped about the amazing food here. The spectacular ingredients, the chefs and kitchen crews with heart and drive, the stunning settings in which you can enjoy these incredible edibles adds up to a vibrant food scene that just keeps getting better all the time.<br />
<br />
Photos from top to bottom:<br />
<br />
Wagyu carpaccio at Metropolitan Grill.<br />
<br />
Madison Park Conservatory's superstar chefs Zoi and Cormac (one of Food & Wine's best new chefs this year... yay!) impressing the hell out of the crowds in Aspen.<br />
<br />
Beet "tartare" at Steelhead Diner.<br />
<br />
The Tom Douglas catering crew making some kick-ass barbecue brisket sandwiches.<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-40395464891340908802012-11-14T15:28:00.000-08:002012-11-14T15:28:44.185-08:00Congrats to Yazoo's Delta Q, Winner of Kingsford Invitational<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWq6HsJh2K39MQ8KJ1I9um_oxrqIwjfFp8GIHMnItzhXC7Ya3tRaoHvEzCy5vs03Uos-m2crZV-6GZ7MeA1iDyAPa1Ms6sWKBNX6Um8MoVaUG1U3bp3rwKf3bd7aksgCMLPrgIhgTzA3E/s1600/PB100158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWq6HsJh2K39MQ8KJ1I9um_oxrqIwjfFp8GIHMnItzhXC7Ya3tRaoHvEzCy5vs03Uos-m2crZV-6GZ7MeA1iDyAPa1Ms6sWKBNX6Um8MoVaUG1U3bp3rwKf3bd7aksgCMLPrgIhgTzA3E/s320/PB100158.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.gomemphis.com/news/2011/may/12/delta-q-is-barbecue-royalty/" target="_blank">Melissa Cookston</a> and her stellar, three-person team won the "best of the best" competition, held in Belle, Missouri, last weekend. The first-ever Kingsford Invitational was like no other contest I've ever been to, as it was pretty teeny tiny. Just eight teams were vying for first prize, winner takes all of the $50,000. But these were the top teams in the nation, having won big in other competitions throughout the season.<br />
<br />
The first clue that the Memphis in May World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest Grand Champion was going to come out on top of the heap was when the team handily won the quick-fire one-bite challenge on the first day. Each team was charged with coming up with a compelling appetizer using just five ingredients. Yazoo's Delta Q made grilled bacon-wrapped shrimp stuffed with cream cheese and jalapenos. Winning the challenge was worth $5,000 and an extra point in the finals score.<br />
<br />
On Saturday, five judges with some major BBQ chops evaluated teams on pork, beef brisket, ribs and chicken. Before the prize was announced, the panel gave the crowd a juicy preview, agreeing that it had been a mighty tough decision.<br />
<br />
After all the boxes were turned in to the judges, Melissa and her crew invited the crowd to come do a little pig picking, with chunks of beautifully smoked meat from her whole hog placed in containers for everyone to try. A very generous gesture! It was so, so, so delicious, moist and incredibly flavorful. I tried some loin and a bit of shoulder meat, but my favorite was the meaty part of the belly, also known as bacon. Oh man.<br />
<br />
The ribs were also out of this world, thanks to teammate and sometimes fellow competitor, John David Wheeler, whose team Natural Born Grillers is a perennial winner at Memphis in May.<br />
<br />
Congrats to all the teams for making it to this prestigious competition! Can't wait to see who makes the cut next year!!Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-9414955482616018852012-11-12T09:15:00.000-08:002012-11-14T15:35:07.022-08:00Top 5 Things I Learned At The Kingsford Invitational<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMYOe1vrBjtP7Q3d0xutpuPzg9EocnrLUPEEADcNe5Vp5xgVy6cQn6UaRwL9ovxTMDx2mFjkp4Dz2ePkwMbCzGbejzcmPy5ojEnYzlMHgBhISXwaigrHCtx4oEAgSKQ0MA4veHrlRxrA/s1600/PB090198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMYOe1vrBjtP7Q3d0xutpuPzg9EocnrLUPEEADcNe5Vp5xgVy6cQn6UaRwL9ovxTMDx2mFjkp4Dz2ePkwMbCzGbejzcmPy5ojEnYzlMHgBhISXwaigrHCtx4oEAgSKQ0MA4veHrlRxrA/s320/PB090198.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqK0reyTQXJojSOc5cB8WA8H-YPgpr9yO3Xrhkp4JtgqjTzJOcVxYwBW21f4c67YfuQKV40l1z5Ogymg0_fo2J2PcF0mC_pKIxLxZfCW703xvZSLM2utfDZ9yGOmhywUG-bIGqMU1I7QI/s1600/PB090192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqK0reyTQXJojSOc5cB8WA8H-YPgpr9yO3Xrhkp4JtgqjTzJOcVxYwBW21f4c67YfuQKV40l1z5Ogymg0_fo2J2PcF0mC_pKIxLxZfCW703xvZSLM2utfDZ9yGOmhywUG-bIGqMU1I7QI/s320/PB090192.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1Mkj_vuijTkgenrBDvhOM0DK8ZC8VqhiJbspZnNCxteCZdH5LdyaRRzMve-_2x9qZCX8imqmOpTMt6nOJimVbBNV3pmZHJu_kcHNS2NHeTumJ3NF1qdqtoS2Wb0eQ2L68jvTkN4faHY/s1600/PB090145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1Mkj_vuijTkgenrBDvhOM0DK8ZC8VqhiJbspZnNCxteCZdH5LdyaRRzMve-_2x9qZCX8imqmOpTMt6nOJimVbBNV3pmZHJu_kcHNS2NHeTumJ3NF1qdqtoS2Wb0eQ2L68jvTkN4faHY/s320/PB090145.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKtK7gRVnFU-CJVNWxl4BVECpZIR8bz4spm-wlRn7tIN9tmuw_zwLyVa6ev9aK-TwsBMz1wMLqOAeEVJP5Rj8p_0F33e9_S95BqkO_-258a22-m-Sfac_Fi1DnrsFXZALn9n_dQxFdls/s1600/PB090202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKtK7gRVnFU-CJVNWxl4BVECpZIR8bz4spm-wlRn7tIN9tmuw_zwLyVa6ev9aK-TwsBMz1wMLqOAeEVJP5Rj8p_0F33e9_S95BqkO_-258a22-m-Sfac_Fi1DnrsFXZALn9n_dQxFdls/s320/PB090202.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Spent a long, very filling weekend in and around St. Louis, at the inaugural<a href="http://www.grilling.com/kingsford-invitational-promises-toughest-competition/" target="_blank"> Kingsford Invitational Barbecue Competition</a>, a "best of the best" cook-off that featured eight excellent teams that had won prestigious prizes this season. For those of us who love barbecue competitions, it was like the Super Bowl, World Series and Indy 500 all rolled into one, with a little bit of Iron Chef tossed in to keep things interesting.<br />
<br />
The action took place in a cow pasture -- no kidding, I've got the cow pies on my boots to prove it -- in Belle, Missouri, a two-hour drive from St. Louis. Teams rolled their rigs in, unloaded their various cooking contraptions and did what they do best: treat meat with TLC, low-and-slow over Kingsford competition briquettes (yes, they make a charcoal for heated cook-offs, but consumers can buy it, too).<br />
<br />
Rules were slightly different for this go-round, during which teams cooked beef brisket, chicken, pork and did a one-bite quick-fire challenge. The eloquent Chris Lily was the master of ceremonies -- somebody give that man a show on the Food Network! -- who introduced the all-star lineup of judges and walked us through the painstaking process for coming up with the winner. Instead of the traditional 9-point scale, judges were charged with giving the most perfect bites 13. A hedonic scale, explained Meathead, aka Craig Goldwyn, the author of <a href="http://amazingribs.com/">AmazingRibs.com</a>, and the man who cooked up this novel approach. (With the help of a professor at Cornell University!)<br />
<br />
While all this cooking and judging was going on, the group of old school journalists and new world blogger types Kingsford flew out to cover the event took tours of the historic Anheuser-Busch Brewery and of the charcoal plant in rural Belle. It was fascinating!<br />
<br />
Here are the Top 5 Things I Learned on this calorie-packed trip:<br />
<br />
1. Kingford's charcoal briquettes are made from sawdust, a mountain of it. (Pictured above.) Pretty cool way to recycle a waste product, don't you think? The mostly automated plant at Belle runs 24/7 and the crew takes great pride in their record of clean emissions. It was neat to see the whole process, walking through that vast facility, where the sawdust is cooked down to the rock-hard briquettes before being bagged and stacked on pallats that soar two stories high in a 20,000 square foot warehouse. I've always been a Kingsford fan -- I have tried most of the other brands and experimented with lump, too -- but this made me even more enthusiastic.<br />
<br />
2. A sprinkle of orange Tang gives grilled chicken a perfect golden hue. So says Los Angeles based cooking champ Harry Soo, aka <a href="http://www.slapyodaddybbq.com/" target="_blank">Slap Yo' Daddy BBQ</a>. Can't wait to use try it.<br />
<br />
3. Grilled pickles! Chris Lily's ridiculously delicious grilled bread and butter pickles made me jump for joy! Wow, how freaking novel is that? That pitmaster also impressed the thirsty folks at the bar with his Smoked Lemonade, spiked with Makers Mark. Fill 'er up, please.<br />
<br />
4. White Lily flour is no longer made in the South, but milled in Ohio. I went searching high and low for the best material for making biscuits so I could tuck it into my suitcase, but came up empty.<br />
<br />
5. Barbecue brings people together. Actually, I already knew this, but it was reaffirmed during this two-day contest. There's nothing more special than talking to team members who dedicate their lives to the pursuit of the perfect bite of Q. Most of these folks have day jobs, but spend every spare moment working on their craft. I met guys from Detroit and a seasoned pitmaster from Virginia, who are white-hot passionate about what they're doing. It takes an amazing commitment of time and money to compete, and while teams might stress as they're putting together the "blind box" that's going to be set in front of distinguished panel of judges, you can tell that part of the reward is hanging out and talking barbecue, right down to the most minute detail. It's easy to see how you could get hooked. I'm happy as a pig in you-know-what to be an observer and a chronicler of this "sport." Go teams!<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-7344080007459906142012-05-12T09:42:00.000-07:002012-05-12T09:42:33.079-07:00Jury Duty Is Loads Of Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxZdRMKDmjerdOvCM0sDaBAKlyLWIXvUkfe14-B4Q12MU_j81AFfbnB8mliHnKf6KBn_tUulStYSEoN-iQl1RU-uqOHfew6azzfWLRoKUdMzF6TCwrVWFFoqKqEmJPxFv4_gfcn9rD2s/s1600/IMG_6121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxZdRMKDmjerdOvCM0sDaBAKlyLWIXvUkfe14-B4Q12MU_j81AFfbnB8mliHnKf6KBn_tUulStYSEoN-iQl1RU-uqOHfew6azzfWLRoKUdMzF6TCwrVWFFoqKqEmJPxFv4_gfcn9rD2s/s320/IMG_6121.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Just spent three days sitting in a courtroom of the King County courthouse, a grand old space with lovely marble floors and glacially slow elevators. I was the last juror seated in a civil case that involved testimony from a doc who thought he was a stand-up comic. Judge Marianne Spear finally had to tell him to keep his answer succinct. He did not, even though he kept complaining that he needed to get out of there. He had patients to see. Well, he was trying our patience with his long, rambling answers. Oh, and part of one of his long, rambling answers involved taking personal responsibility for paying bills: "I have patients that pay me in homemade jams and sausages. I've got a guy who's washing my car for the rest of his life to pay off his debt."<br />
<br />
The wheels of justice creak in strange ways and I really didn't want to be there, nudging Juror No. 8, who fell asleep and trying not to fall asleep myself or roll my eyes too obviously at the inept lawyers. OK, one was inept, the other was condescending beyond belief. She even winked at the jury and baldly laughed at the poor, pitiful plantiff. Come on. Still, I felt good about fulfilling my civic duty and it was exciting to find myself in a group dynamic that somehow worked like it's supposed to work. There were no obnoxious divas, nobody who hogged the floor when it came time to talk.<br />
<br />
If this were an episode of some legal drama, the case would have been sensationalized as cop hits man, who was driving while black. The plantiff was suing the city of Seattle for injuries sustained in a low-speed rear-ender. The city admitted liability, but Mr. E wanted more. He wanted a paycheck, so said the snarky defense attorney. Oh, the accident happened nearly five years ago, and the plantiff went to prison shortly after for domestic violence and witness tampering. He was from an abusive family and was on anti-psychotic drugs. He was not exactly a credible witness. He went to a chiropractor for treatment and the defense contended that those manipulations aggravated the injury to his neck and shoulder. A pathologist on the jury had examined post-mortem patients who died as a result of chiropractic adjustments. Holy crap!<br />
<br />
While we sat in the jury room, deliberating, I stared at the poster in the photograph, thinking about these weighty words. This call to action to do something, anything to contribute. I try. (See item below.) The older I get, the more it breaks my heart to see the pain and suffering in the world. The guy in the wheelchair with a ratty cup from Subway, begging for change. The woman sitting on the street corner, who said thanks but no thanks when offered leftover pizza. She couldn't eat it because she had no teeth. These things haunt me. I don't want to hear about how people make choices. People don't choose to be born into poverty and have abusive parents and end up on the street.<br />
<br />
It's certainly much more complicated than dumping a bunch of change into a ratty cup or not trying to wiggle out of jury duty. I want to support the Occupy movement, but still do not quite understand what the goal is there. Oh, and then, there's this: I am constantly hustling to get work that pays something beyond peanuts so I can make my mortgage payment. I am too busy for do-gooding, right? Wrong. One powerful reason I want to do more is that I can picture myself on the receiving end of that help.<br />
<br />
So, yeah, here comes the pitch. It's really not hard to contribute to one of my favorite charitable causes. The University District Food Bank helps feed 1,000 people a week, many of those numbers are children of working families. Please consider "walking in the light of creative altrusim" by making <a href="http://www.udistrictfoodbank.org/donate.php" target="_blank">a donation online</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-79162099413209111492011-09-27T14:55:00.000-07:002011-09-28T08:25:16.741-07:00Have You Ever Been Hungry?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4iAwF9B5LYXDtT44n-Wdx926SLWBEB8Cz52OPGZz3Vc6sLjfaRRjIL9d95NTKQuNe9gstEvpwLF90M2OYc6gwcKp2aQbXtWouQHrYwEYE7GBlsIt-QGhgmmv-4t5qCr17a1E0weT_tY/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4iAwF9B5LYXDtT44n-Wdx926SLWBEB8Cz52OPGZz3Vc6sLjfaRRjIL9d95NTKQuNe9gstEvpwLF90M2OYc6gwcKp2aQbXtWouQHrYwEYE7GBlsIt-QGhgmmv-4t5qCr17a1E0weT_tY/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
I'm feeling pretty feverish about the increasing number of homeless people I'm seeing on the streets of Seattle. There's this guy near my neighborhood who is now going around barefoot and it breaks my heart. I know he's mentally ill and I consulted my cousin Suz, a police officer who worked in social services, about how I could help.<br />
<br />
She suggested I try and hand him a pair of socks and I did that yesterday. He told me to go away. I left the socks and I'm now carrying a few spare pair in my bag. It's not much, but it's something.<br />
<br />
I know many people who are on the streets struggle with addiction. They've made bad choices and now they're screwed. They're panhandling for booze or drugs, but I am seeing more people who look like they've been tossed out of the middle class and are now toting their lives on their backs. And I want to help. I just am not sure how to help.<br />
<br />
I've been on the board of the U-District Food Bank for four years and in that short time, we've seen the number of working families who seek help rise significantly. The economy continues to suck and we're now seeing stories about class warfare. I'm currently in the "haves" camp, not the have-nots, but I've been poor before.<br />
<br />
My parents were both alcoholics and my mother left me and my brother and sister when I was 8. My father was this pie-in-the-sky guy who tried to spin our sad circumstances: So what if we don't have a fridge kids! We'll just keep the milk outside. Hey! Who wants breakfast for dinner? (Not again?)<br />
<br />
BK always took pride in never letting us go hungry, but there were plenty of lean times. I learned to cook when I was 8 as a matter of sheer survival.<br />
<br />
Maybe I feel so strongly about the issue of hunger because I've been there. Just two years ago, my husband and I both lost our steady paychecks. We scrambled to pay our bills. We talked about moving in with my father-in-law. I went from spending $30,000 a year on eating out as a restaurant critic to pinching pennies. We ate a lot of rice and beans and at one point, I thought I might have to use the food bank. It was depressing.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, we were able to turn things around. We both found work, though our nest egg is in the dumps and there are student loans to pay back. I don't want to dwell on that, though. I consider myself damn lucky. And I want to help those who are less fortunate. Isn't that the duty of every good citizen? But how?<br />
<br />
Here's one way. You can buy a ticket to this year's <a href="http://www.udistrictfoodbank.org/events.php">U-District Food Bank auction</a> this Saturday, Oct. 1. Tickets are $75 and the event's fun. There's great food and beer and wine and lots of cool items to bid on. If you cannot make it, please consider making a donation to the food bank. It's easy to do on the Website. I have set up a monthly donation. If that food bank doesn't ring your bell, do something, anything, else. It feels good. And because, damnit, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. (I told you I was feeling feverish!) OK? OK!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-51266808044535242792011-04-16T10:51:00.000-07:002011-04-16T11:34:12.564-07:00So, here's what I've been up to<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxC_CBJs0Jl743EgK94Jwc_0ZJCkT8DVVF6Dl0m2-gob4BUUYVHoVZP-WgI3XezmxGktTUrpUggFA4kWJRQOxtUrng0SoIcWZg43kj63ynpiRi0bgLXuikF6nZRNJYiXb1dR_LHZZt8Q/s1600/IMG_3216.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxC_CBJs0Jl743EgK94Jwc_0ZJCkT8DVVF6Dl0m2-gob4BUUYVHoVZP-WgI3XezmxGktTUrpUggFA4kWJRQOxtUrng0SoIcWZg43kj63ynpiRi0bgLXuikF6nZRNJYiXb1dR_LHZZt8Q/s400/IMG_3216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596248290621997538" border="0" /></a><br />There's nothing more BORING than the blogger who neglects their blog and then pops back up out of nowhere to blather excuses about why they've neglected their blog. YAWN!!<br /><br />No excuses, but here's what I've been up to lately:<br /><br />Filling in for a bit as lead blogger for Seattle Weekly's Voracious, which means writing three posts a day. That's a lot! Here's one of my favorite posts from that stint: <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/voracious/2011/04/9_reasons_seattle_should_be_je.php">10 Reasons Seattle Should Be Jealous of Portland. </a><br /><br />Writing about cooking and eating for <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.aldenteblog.com/leslie_kelly.html">Al Dente, Amazon's food blog</a>. I love this blog because it pays well and the subject matter is wide open. I've written about everything from how to prepare fiddlehead ferns to the history behind the tradition of dunking cookies. How cool is that?<br /><br />Though it's been a few years since I lived in Memphis, I keep my fingers stirring the pot of Southern food by contributing to the <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.stateofq.com/">StateofQ.com</a>. I'll be heading to Memphis in May's World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest soon, to eat and write and eat some more.<br /><br />I'm working on Chapter 7 of <a href="http://news.northstarwinery.com/2011/02/the-big-dipper-chronicles-chapter-six/">The Big Dipper Chronicles</a>, a story of the making of a cult Merlot by Northstar Winery, a tale that appears on the winery's Web site, but will eventually be made into a book. (And who knows? Maybe a movie!!) It chronicles David "Merf" Merfeld's making of a very special wine from the vine to the table.<br /><br />Just finished a story for Seattle Mariners magazine about a chef who's joined a culinary dream team to create an awesome lineup of restaurant-like food at Safeco Field.<br /><br />I write about wine for Seattle magazine and was part of a committee this year that honored restaurants with Washington wine-centric lists as part of Taste Washington. That was a blast.<br /><br />I'm working on a book project with Seattle's celebrity chef, Tom Douglas, and was just asked to write a cookbook focusing on chefs who showcase local, sustainable foods. (Can you guess my answer?)<br /><br />I also write blurbs about restaurants and helped out with a "best of" app. Oh, and write newsletters for MSN.com.<br /><br />Whew. That's about it. Well, except for the on-going daily adventure of eating and cooking and eating some more. Just this week, I had a bread baking lesson!! And, yes, before/during/after all the eating and cooking and dining out, I <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://twitter.com/#%21/lesliedines">Tweet </a>and Facebook about it. I'm exhausted/exhilarated just thinking about it. If only there were more hours in the day!Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-60730628090038436742011-02-02T11:24:00.000-08:002011-02-02T11:31:38.120-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 9<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qEdkTe4K6mykDIOdAU_BVMWajxsCsPuO1iSjjQm_ssbRf-VlA5rDmcRW5ypbeACA5tMXSfeW925C4W0nU8T_k_AZjydio3at6fMR-PQqZGRZixihNPCDpuLTbJuSW1oky1MSngPZXSs/s1600/IMG_9237.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qEdkTe4K6mykDIOdAU_BVMWajxsCsPuO1iSjjQm_ssbRf-VlA5rDmcRW5ypbeACA5tMXSfeW925C4W0nU8T_k_AZjydio3at6fMR-PQqZGRZixihNPCDpuLTbJuSW1oky1MSngPZXSs/s400/IMG_9237.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569177079715188546" border="0" /></a><br />So, haven't been cooking much. I've been dining out a whole lot lately. Went to Vancouver and Whistler recently, and, despite a major spill on the hill, I'm so glad I did.<br /><br />Last week, I hit three happy hours. I guess I was feeling a little burned out in my own kitchen.<br /><br />When I run out of gas, it's usually about meal planning. I am happy to respond to requests, and most nights, I know what I'm going to make. But then, there are those lazy days when I don't want to go to the store. I punt.<br /><br />Yesterday, I had no clue what I was going to make for dinner. But I was at the Pike Place Market and a stroll through DeLaurenti and -- boom! -- dinner was a done deal: Butternut squash ravioli, on top of a bed of lightly dressed arugula, topped with shaved Parm, chopped hazelnuts, sauteed Delicata squash and fried sage. Dang! So good!!Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-46946314569239515412011-01-09T18:56:00.000-08:002011-01-09T19:12:40.568-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 7 and 8<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZyoVEByw9cvigg0sJIPYsjQPj-Rux4X4UdNbXZxCo6n2MOceTduT7oYhii5wrYxBE0jDrnwgX55iku8YoRLtpQu0UVlCsp-0pVBNK5iy697jUxhqWibcoyLBa3O55pRU_BJRkSv6dr0/s1600/IMG_2261.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZyoVEByw9cvigg0sJIPYsjQPj-Rux4X4UdNbXZxCo6n2MOceTduT7oYhii5wrYxBE0jDrnwgX55iku8YoRLtpQu0UVlCsp-0pVBNK5iy697jUxhqWibcoyLBa3O55pRU_BJRkSv6dr0/s400/IMG_2261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560388634635862722" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQOhVcH2m2655fHl38kefCa4E1yzMLueDctfumMoaOIjJD-1ZiBc7aDDwn6BgZ_grEGlYkZvPxpNNzNgMx7Sihdzx66OXRoWOO0xNQGVBfxVdTPVwQbXUTiDcbh9Admly1eEEmhM6iY8/s1600/IMG_2254.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQOhVcH2m2655fHl38kefCa4E1yzMLueDctfumMoaOIjJD-1ZiBc7aDDwn6BgZ_grEGlYkZvPxpNNzNgMx7Sihdzx66OXRoWOO0xNQGVBfxVdTPVwQbXUTiDcbh9Admly1eEEmhM6iY8/s400/IMG_2254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560388527967265490" border="0" /></a><br />Last night, Johnny kept going on and on about how well put together dinner was... an artichoke pasta finished with sherry and porcini butter. Yes, it was.<br /><br />Sunday night, I made an Olsen Farms rack of lamb (WOW) seared and slathered in mustard and seasoned breadcrumbs and baked at 450 for 20 minutes. Too rare for J.<br /><br />On the side: Brilliant puzzle. What is it? I asked Johnny. Apples? he guessed. Pears? Nope, not even close. Salsify. A stunning recipe from my friend Martha Foose from her upcoming book, <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Southerly-Course-Recipes-Stories-Close/dp/0307464288/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1294629073&sr=1-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">A Southerly Course</span></a>, which I love at least as much, if not a little more --- no, wait, I cannot pick a favorite --- than her James Beard-award-winning debut, <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.amazon.com/Screen-Doors-Sweet-Tea-Southern/dp/0307351408/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1">Screen Doors and Sweet Tea</a>. I was there in New York City the night Ms. Martha won and my deep regret is that I did not go out with her to celebrate. Next time for sure!!<br /><br />I truly believe salsify is going to blow up big. Try it! It's like a parsnip on steroids. YUM!!Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-64949520978760634742011-01-08T10:26:00.000-08:002011-01-08T10:34:15.389-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 6<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQPwRYw7uU0WXEovEjMiokZ5-4NIzzxRnf5DtfVTK7u3H2gTJCDivlxC8fhMo9eLRyC1bugGLB7chKNBsvpd1OOY-p0JeEckGMJH5x6O3w0zWovjVlXthWH6-8pRiIGQYTRxKgdWoh-U/s1600/IMG_2236.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQPwRYw7uU0WXEovEjMiokZ5-4NIzzxRnf5DtfVTK7u3H2gTJCDivlxC8fhMo9eLRyC1bugGLB7chKNBsvpd1OOY-p0JeEckGMJH5x6O3w0zWovjVlXthWH6-8pRiIGQYTRxKgdWoh-U/s400/IMG_2236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559885147986243714" border="0" /></a><br />This is the most ridiculously easy recipe based on a signature dish from my late mother-in-law. I almost feel like a cheat doing it because it comes out so dang delicious with so little effort.<br /><br />I've promised to share the recipe with my daughter, who is starting to get into cooking... finally. I was the world's worst teacher. No warm and fuzzy moments in the kitchen. So, we'll try some long-distance lessons.<br /><br />Dorothy's Beef Burgundy<br /><br />2 pounds boneless chuck, cut into generous chunks<br />1 shallot, diced<br />1/3 cup flour<br />1/2 pound mushrooms, washed and quartered<br />1 tablespoon herbs de province<br />2 tablespoons salt/pepper (one each, then later taste and adjust... I also used truffle salt toward the end)<br />1 bottle red wine<br /><br />Put the prepared beef and shallots into a Dutch oven. Sprinkle flour and seasonings on top. Pour in bottle of wine. Bake in 350 degree oven for three hours. Add mushrooms. Taste and adjust seasonings at this point. Bake an additional 30 minutes. Serve with buttered noodles or mashed potatoes.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-11802435523375276892011-01-07T17:17:00.000-08:002011-01-07T17:23:58.619-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82r-Xw1RkO4eC_ehiHeWgacKpCQmFQQbgctUqfibxcoD5vMDX1pseej-oCgB9OyRpmWkNP_RoqOLX6OEXDQ4DYj1Nbygu2EjzLB36yrF7hARdSpUuEAbiLQOInURFSQReYs72_dnuOdk/s1600/IMG_2228.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82r-Xw1RkO4eC_ehiHeWgacKpCQmFQQbgctUqfibxcoD5vMDX1pseej-oCgB9OyRpmWkNP_RoqOLX6OEXDQ4DYj1Nbygu2EjzLB36yrF7hARdSpUuEAbiLQOInURFSQReYs72_dnuOdk/s400/IMG_2228.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559619660806801042" border="0" /></a><br />It's been so cold. I know, it's winter. Anyway, I decided to make a chicken/pumpkin curry with stock I made from leftover roast bird from Monday.<br /><br />Only hitch: No chutney in the pantry! So, I made some quick pickle Granny Smiths and all was swell. Topped with slivered almonds and toasted coconut.<br /><br />It made up for the disaster earlier in the day. I ruined a batch of brownies. Distracted, I added baking soda to the butter/sugar/egg mixture instead of sifting it into the flour and cocoa and the pan looked like a science experiment gone wrong.<br /><br />Bummer. But I'm going to get back on that brownie bandwagon again soon. Maybe tomorrow.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-57007221496825654562011-01-06T13:18:00.000-08:002011-01-06T13:23:43.182-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifV6CPKa5cGIVHFJG_wkNdqdT1x1y4z8NEyk4S1Hzhjh9BzKpvNIdUs1L6n2wFCEYMNDOa5s3GgaELdiMkHf0VmrwZf2MpFwCkl0seFuqv9HaRKd65skvv0wxMB7FML0OPBDc0klN8aM4/s1600/IMG_2227.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifV6CPKa5cGIVHFJG_wkNdqdT1x1y4z8NEyk4S1Hzhjh9BzKpvNIdUs1L6n2wFCEYMNDOa5s3GgaELdiMkHf0VmrwZf2MpFwCkl0seFuqv9HaRKd65skvv0wxMB7FML0OPBDc0klN8aM4/s400/IMG_2227.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559186673282484322" border="0" /></a><br />Made oyster po' boys last night. Which was accomplished in record time because Johnny and I went to see The Fighter and got home after 7. Sitting down by 7:30.<br /><br />I totally love the Louisiana Fish Fry. It's perfectly seasoned and fries up super crisp. Use it for catfish, too.<br /><br />Dressed these sandwiches in duck egg mayo, sliced tomatoes, shredded savoy cabbage on a hoagie roll. I wish the bread was better, softer. But pretty pleased with how it turned out.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-31284227718804200842011-01-04T20:55:00.000-08:002011-01-04T21:02:28.189-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 2 and 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTns-LQ3BKYSGuBMBAfZSP-uJfw7srv9bNzjXdngvoUzDM_zKfJpgr2HEPxBIpjZmaYura0M_qgmi4HnZHtzABD5L4nGIIuBQcXLXcRejHFQ2rahx263fkgft4CQiT-0zNrGkkcmyuOWQ/s1600/IMG_2218.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTns-LQ3BKYSGuBMBAfZSP-uJfw7srv9bNzjXdngvoUzDM_zKfJpgr2HEPxBIpjZmaYura0M_qgmi4HnZHtzABD5L4nGIIuBQcXLXcRejHFQ2rahx263fkgft4CQiT-0zNrGkkcmyuOWQ/s400/IMG_2218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558562112061864930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HA7fLaJMC9uOL5OgnxbaZlo7GMHl3nAkz0jZZ9NJtAw1Gzr3ijve8rGa1L6qxMcV432IAY7brSen6SBfkR1L03c-UWa-PDe-suMg8IZ2XDqb8aRXugHSHoiz80W6-zwIe0Jq5zjJ36Y/s1600/IMG_2211.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HA7fLaJMC9uOL5OgnxbaZlo7GMHl3nAkz0jZZ9NJtAw1Gzr3ijve8rGa1L6qxMcV432IAY7brSen6SBfkR1L03c-UWa-PDe-suMg8IZ2XDqb8aRXugHSHoiz80W6-zwIe0Jq5zjJ36Y/s400/IMG_2211.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558561968253657042" border="0" /></a><br />Made white bean minestrone Monday night with greens from the farmers market. Cooked the beans in Nana's bean pot. I like doing them that way because they stay intact. I added a little liquid smoke to the pot since I was going vegan with this batch of soup.<br /><br />On Tuesday, I roasted a Stokesberry Farms chicken. It cost nearly $20, but it was really good: moist, flavorful, not fatty. I've got some stock simmering with the leftovers. I sure do love soup this time of year!Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6712929356183792053.post-71416926926927285622011-01-03T19:42:00.000-08:002011-01-03T19:48:06.178-08:00Dinner Diary, Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXcylB8Y8TE_QPEN9Ej5ViLicU9UwFxeicHEBfrOLxi8DoLWgruU5WFVzsgRlUSsPY8xtGh-a61SfI18sJ1OA99gVJyw9Iv0zCwgt9bclxN5IwNLIHl7ztVYnHAhj2hFTd2OeBJchEns/s1600/IMG_2193.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXcylB8Y8TE_QPEN9Ej5ViLicU9UwFxeicHEBfrOLxi8DoLWgruU5WFVzsgRlUSsPY8xtGh-a61SfI18sJ1OA99gVJyw9Iv0zCwgt9bclxN5IwNLIHl7ztVYnHAhj2hFTd2OeBJchEns/s400/IMG_2193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558172424392187602" border="0" /></a><br />Geez Louise!<br /><br />Haven't posted anything since August, and yet... my comment box continues to fill up with spam.<br /><br />So, I've decided to post a pic of my dinner making efforts. This might sound like a lot of navel gazing. Oh, lookie what I can do. But, honestly, it's about keeping a record of my efforts.<br /><br />Last night, it was fried catfish, roasted fingerlings and Asian slaw. Oh, and homemade tartar sauce made with duck egg mayo. So good.<br /><br />Oh, and did I mention, I'm available for doing some personal cheffing. I have references. And photos, of course.Leslie Kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401888163968508789noreply@blogger.com0