tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5904996482376935362024-02-01T23:58:04.743-05:00My Scene and HerdAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-77408489809738982912011-09-11T11:58:00.001-04:002011-09-11T12:00:26.268-04:00Bite me.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Semi-al-fresco dining on 14th street. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As a wise girl once said, you have get something fast, cheap, and easy. Adopting this saying to eating out, I often think that you can't get a meal cheap, healthy and delicious. Bite is my new favorite exception to this rule.<br />
On 14th between 2nd and 3rd, amidst a smorgasbord of bars and restaurants, Bite offers healthy, interesting options for all three meals of the day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any restaurant that has gossip magazines for the browsing is automatically worth a second trip. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Joey and I tried it out this Saturday for dinner. My body lately has been overworked, under paid, immuno-depleted, and nutrient deprived. I needed some vegetables and I needed them fast.<br />
I ordered the soup and salad combo, Garden Gaspacho and Mediterranean Salad were my picks. The soup was incredible, the tomato base was spicy and a hint of cucumber added freshness.<br />
The salad was a bowl of field greens topped with roasted eggplant, hummus, almonds, and cucumber. Olive oil was drizzled over and the combination of the hummus and oil created a hearty dressing. <br />
A warm pita was served along side and I used it to dip in all of my veggie juices.<br />
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Joey ordered a combo with a Middle Eastern Turkey sandwich and vegetarian lentil soup. The Middle Eastern Turkey was pretty American, just a sandwich with some hummus on it. But the soup was a highlight, packed with spiced veggies and nutty lentils.<br />
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Verdict: Absolutely a place to return. The options were plentiful, the ingredients fresh, and the prices very reasonable, (our dinners were $7.50 and $8.50!)<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://bitenyc.com/">Bite </a><br />
14th Strreet between 2nd and 3rdAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-40663864836297108052011-08-28T17:42:00.000-04:002011-08-28T17:42:11.783-04:00Hurricane Irene, just another lazy sunday.The hurricane that was supposed to rip Manhattan apart ended at about 9 am. Irenes have been known to be flaky, flighty characters. They say they're going to show up, and then the time comes and they bail.<br />
My roommate, Megan, and I headed out to walk around in the storm's wake.<br />
There was not much to see, to be honest. <br />
There was lots of trash on the street, but wait, there is always trash on the street.<br />
There were broken windows in the bar on the corner. Irene? No, those were shattered two weeks ago.<br />
We walked across the Williamsburg Bridge. Lots of people were out and about, enjoying the breezy weather and the feeling of a world put on pause. <br />
Megan was busy being a cool artist and taking pictures of beautiful and interesting things. I took pictures of tourists in ponchos.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Storm's over, guys. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Williamsburg Bridge has a nice, wide path going across and lots of high barriers to prevent people from going over the edge. (Golden Gate Bridge, take notes.) <br />
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We talked around Williamsburg for a while, being careful to not take too many turns to we didn't get lost. There was a surprising amount of places open, some open even while their windows were boarded up. When there are no subways to take, no jobs to go into, and no storm to hide from, going out drinking and dining is a solid option for many.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene-proof windows. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Megan and I took notes of many cute places we want to visit on Bedford Street. We stopped for fruit bowls at a grocery store and then turned around to head home. I wore my rain boots although it was completely unnecessary. So I walked straight into some puddles just to make it worth it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still-life, I call it "Fruit and Rainboot."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The way back gave great views of Manhattan against a dreary sky. The swollen river and the clouds were an identical shade of gray.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hello, your highness.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Back to our neighborhood, more storefronts were open and more faces were out bopping around. The streets were slowly gaining speed, but the pace was still comfortingly slow.<br />
Will the subways run before the Monday morning rush? <br />
Will the storm's damage be the worst in the arena of national debt?<br />
And most importantly, will Starbucks be open tomorrow? <br />
<br />
Only time will tell. In the mean time, I'll be in my apartment playing drinking games with all the water in our emergency storm stockpile. <br />
<br />
Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-21252096970757997072011-08-24T22:15:00.000-04:002011-08-24T22:15:06.444-04:00Little Italy; a little bit too far to walk in a rainstorm.<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Dear New York City, </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Please stop complaining about the crazy weather, thunderstorms, and earthquakes. It's only going to get worse from here. </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Sincerely, </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> Global Warming</div><br />
<br />
My New York friends and I celebrated the birthday of one of my roommates last weekend. She may have been slightly injured going into the birthday festivities, but she powered through. Anyone who lets pain and health concerns get in the way of fun does shame to birthdays everywhere. <br />
<br />
My roommates and I spent Saturday tanning at our urban beach, (a.k.a. the unfinished rooftop out the emergency exit of our apartment building. At least the aluminum coating is good for attracting rays.)<br />
A party was had, drinks were poured, and a town was painted red. I need not say more.<br />
<br />
Sunday was sunny and humid and all day the sky was just threatening to pour a God-sized bucket of water down on everyone below.<br />
The bucket of water began 'a flowin' right when we were going to go to dinner in Little Italy. The birthday girl is a lover of all things Italian, having spent some time living there. So miss out on a dinner with her at a place that she deemed worthy? Absolutely not. Our small but enthusiastic crew headed to Little Italy with umbrellas that proved to be just not enough protection.<br />
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But then we got to the restuarant and the bread was like pillows.<br />
And the wine warmed my cold, wet soul.<br />
And the gnocci made me feel comforted even though the wait staff put us awkwardly in the corner of the upstairs with no windows.<br />
And the free Italian doughnuts at the end of the meal made me full.<br />
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<br />
Birthday girl enjoyed her carbonara.<br />
And we all dug the conversation.<br />
And no one dug walking back to our apartment in the rain.<br />
<br />
<u>Verdict:</u> I loved the night out with friends and trying out a new neighborhood close-by. But my bowl of pasta was nothing monumental. The portions were serious and I was glad I shared to save money and not be overwhelmed by pasta. The ambiance seemed a little forced and something likely to attract a tourist crowd. I may not head back, but if you're in the area and a host lures you in with promises of homestyle Italian favorites, your night will be no worse for the wear. <br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_4480687"><br />
</a><br />
<a href="http://danicoristorante.com/home.php">Da Nico Ristorante</a><br />
164 Mulberry St. Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-80045130409476478032011-08-23T18:36:00.006-04:002011-08-24T22:44:11.085-04:00Sitting on a Dirty Curb, Not as Glamourous as it Sounds.<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Bolt Bust to Boston, been there done that. But this was my first trip as a resident of New York and visitor to Bean Town. My best friends were waiting four hours to the North and I was anxious to get there, but as the bus-riders proverb goes, ‘One planning to ride standby will be punished.’</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><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/AVvXsEghEg_NohKhwBOy0ixMa_phY0BU1zuyM4cQkXWXDDSgg_OmWyIeLQN2ReGdZw-GQBCdrmYQE0YA00gwZ-RDeQPGGHOQPls-MwE9pMd2i3pAoobvZThyphenhyphenqLK_g5WMcH240E34DtXgF-m6vkgT/s1600/DSC02598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEg_NohKhwBOy0ixMa_phY0BU1zuyM4cQkXWXDDSgg_OmWyIeLQN2ReGdZw-GQBCdrmYQE0YA00gwZ-RDeQPGGHOQPls-MwE9pMd2i3pAoobvZThyphenhyphenqLK_g5WMcH240E34DtXgF-m6vkgT/s640/DSC02598.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wait, how much does it cost? It's kind of unclear...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">And punished I was. I had to wait an additional HOUR on the sidewalk. New found respekk for sandwich-board-wearers and anyone else who spends their day standing. Sh*t's tough. So while standing on the street at 34th and 8th was not ideal, I found a way to make it work, (read: I found lunch!)I made friends with the man next to me and had him hold my spot as I got lunch and brought it back to my place in the queue. My lunch was the one efficient thing about my travel experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A five dollar lunch box filled with various Asian dishes of my choice made the most of my money. The Lunch Box, on 34<sup>th</sup> between 6<sup>th</sup> and 7<sup>th</sup> is a budget-luncher’s heaven. Amidst a horde of chain restaurants, cheap clothing stores, and scaffolding, The Lunch Box is a beacon of inexpensive deliciousness. And it fully supports a women’s right to choose. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRU_CiQuEhCqd-M-zLiuIOWMj3lJ0g9zG5bGKzRjM21PACscDYA2ZeHwle0BkcNefPzo2-6Y1P7AsurkUxdkN_bDKgtsTuAUgKW9WHVmat_fwQWW_VFlqa78xlW8O6F0BasLFuWnPEWHg1/s1600/DSC02599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRU_CiQuEhCqd-M-zLiuIOWMj3lJ0g9zG5bGKzRjM21PACscDYA2ZeHwle0BkcNefPzo2-6Y1P7AsurkUxdkN_bDKgtsTuAUgKW9WHVmat_fwQWW_VFlqa78xlW8O6F0BasLFuWnPEWHg1/s640/DSC02599.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And chose I did. I chose kiwi, cucumber salad, fried rice, eggplant in garlic sauce, and pork dumplings. Hello, feast. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Returning to the bus line I was forced to sit on the curb like a vagrant to eat my lunch. I was feeling rather down and out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was an hour postponed because of my own unpreparedness, I was sitting on the curb hoping for a Bolt Bus miracle, but at least I had my lunch box. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And you can get yours too. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></div><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/AVvXsEhzRi6pKO2SYw3CjjvawEQFdMKNBdl-2dJieEYgzIrK2KF2GrCbd6WWoyWcy8MJtnCVKsx-1ZpIrUcpL238jxIGc7aPR7LKlprXBpVEkbYnwDzIsSDEz9AbyTAehJVAAlR3CVPkPKIzUP8_/s1600/DSC02597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRi6pKO2SYw3CjjvawEQFdMKNBdl-2dJieEYgzIrK2KF2GrCbd6WWoyWcy8MJtnCVKsx-1ZpIrUcpL238jxIGc7aPR7LKlprXBpVEkbYnwDzIsSDEz9AbyTAehJVAAlR3CVPkPKIzUP8_/s640/DSC02597.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello, hungry people. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">The Lunch Box</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">34<sup>th</sup> between 6<sup>th</sup> and 7<sup>th</sup></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">$5.00 lunch box with 5 dishes</div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-12849632551532516292011-08-14T17:18:00.002-04:002011-08-24T22:20:33.657-04:00IKEA? ICANT.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pApsQ2xW-5Pv8a4sVHqHek6UCWZfV5Q7X0dJdrrgCKfXjnpvLTI4oV8zYxgcALj18XvXG3d7B5yHrbIDarDNVzvQAyxzrdKqiuge6aI3s_TP049RRIulaBD44QWmO2n7uhzUnBI6oVwh/s1600/DSC02589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pApsQ2xW-5Pv8a4sVHqHek6UCWZfV5Q7X0dJdrrgCKfXjnpvLTI4oV8zYxgcALj18XvXG3d7B5yHrbIDarDNVzvQAyxzrdKqiuge6aI3s_TP049RRIulaBD44QWmO2n7uhzUnBI6oVwh/s640/DSC02589.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">Moving in to an apartment while starting a job looks like this:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">There is a toaster, a frying pan, four spatulas, and a Belgian waffle maker on my dining room table. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">The chance of me using one of them to actually make something is zero. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">So out into the world I go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OqW0wO4WSeBafGGexzjHckR75GbQJFint-iZb0fAJNh3SGjd3YqshGqhrbpMFSqJFisd1R2vJngm-By0E7-MiksVHXBolVlqUAyVYbF6QLBVU6Vw4r1elHjbri_-EVBJCr81PQE2Pm4S/s1600/DSC02592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OqW0wO4WSeBafGGexzjHckR75GbQJFint-iZb0fAJNh3SGjd3YqshGqhrbpMFSqJFisd1R2vJngm-By0E7-MiksVHXBolVlqUAyVYbF6QLBVU6Vw4r1elHjbri_-EVBJCr81PQE2Pm4S/s640/DSC02592.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">Breakfast with the roommates at 8<a href="http://88orchard.com/">8 Orchard</a> at the corner of Orchard and Broome. While you may want to toss this into the category of 'restaurants-so-chic-they-don't-have-a-name-just-an-address', refrain from judgement for a minute. The place is laid back and has plenty of seating upstairs, outside, and downstairs. Some people are sipping coffee and reading, others are working on their laptops, while some pairs are on a breakfast date, or a post-date breakfast ;) . The place was casual and the pace was slow, perfect for a Saturday. The staff was friendly and and the menu wasn't full of aggressive jargon about organic, fair-trade, and saving the world one lump of granola at a time. I do love me some granola but there are only so many buzz words one can stomach early in the morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JCgShO6OiREQf0rc1rDWefMtC731yhuzm20_yJbkpgoWj9dws_kNKCHLWUmf3uoZYZK3j5XTSPJ7I5uKxAzX_GUACIynFMZnfP6BirzxDDi_qad86r5X8P4PabvGK9Lss4-U8LJ2IZtT/s1600/DSC02590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JCgShO6OiREQf0rc1rDWefMtC731yhuzm20_yJbkpgoWj9dws_kNKCHLWUmf3uoZYZK3j5XTSPJ7I5uKxAzX_GUACIynFMZnfP6BirzxDDi_qad86r5X8P4PabvGK9Lss4-U8LJ2IZtT/s640/DSC02590.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7r8YE7Opzlllb3X7oq0rMmdSYM5E2RbmCxLfIRshgCR0J6Veu7dDu7aLGPn_bjY6FuRn4b37aSFQWCTKaTskIPTX9itMgv6wsEoEBGUWXur6RzZ2LGVHnEnDvR0o11k8wdt9ONXuNU-N/s1600/DSC02591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7r8YE7Opzlllb3X7oq0rMmdSYM5E2RbmCxLfIRshgCR0J6Veu7dDu7aLGPn_bjY6FuRn4b37aSFQWCTKaTskIPTX9itMgv6wsEoEBGUWXur6RzZ2LGVHnEnDvR0o11k8wdt9ONXuNU-N/s640/DSC02591.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">One herb omelet sandwich on ciabatta with white cheddar, one plate of french toast, and three coffees later, my roommates and I were ready to tackle a day at IKEA. Let me rephrase, we realized it was inevitable and we reluctantly got on the F train to Brooklyn. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">I will save the drama about my day at IKEA because there is no use dwelling on the negatives, but let's just say there is a person named Matt who works for customer service who will never, ever, be my friend. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="font-family: inherit;">And now here is my lifestyle upgrade, I have a furnished apartment and I can sit at my kitchen table and drink celebratory champagne out of a Dairy Queen cup. (Where did these come from? Why do we have them? Why is there not a Blizzard in it?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSR4_DSy4uH3uqcjDSblWXJLdTVzwbYkDc935GuHfZn-cbL5FEW8OAQ18JGFMZPG3AvbSBbqWpWy4QF3B4JfFwV3R3IornXaLd6P3iMN-2YH5gYgSBjuITLD9Qs-_QUeYW7rZmHTqIZFP/s1600/DSC02593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSR4_DSy4uH3uqcjDSblWXJLdTVzwbYkDc935GuHfZn-cbL5FEW8OAQ18JGFMZPG3AvbSBbqWpWy4QF3B4JfFwV3R3IornXaLd6P3iMN-2YH5gYgSBjuITLD9Qs-_QUeYW7rZmHTqIZFP/s640/DSC02593.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSR4_DSy4uH3uqcjDSblWXJLdTVzwbYkDc935GuHfZn-cbL5FEW8OAQ18JGFMZPG3AvbSBbqWpWy4QF3B4JfFwV3R3IornXaLd6P3iMN-2YH5gYgSBjuITLD9Qs-_QUeYW7rZmHTqIZFP/s1600/DSC02593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> <a href="http://88orchard.com/" style="font-family: inherit;">88 Orchard</a><br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">88 Orchard St.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">New York, NY 10009</div></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-57389473990398747512011-08-12T11:28:00.001-04:002011-08-12T11:29:26.356-04:00Living in Limbo<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XOEHW_OASHwH9v7jdlsU8bb68NfBpxETYYsKSQDQD5zRG-SSFS3XH1TfKZ7RjqEWJLL_rM521Ksw-CFUR6XiHAh-mEMXc2t2p-x4xLFzB0jSaxjxNgYge053Hy8tBxpLB_KDVLgf68xp/s1600/DSC02568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XOEHW_OASHwH9v7jdlsU8bb68NfBpxETYYsKSQDQD5zRG-SSFS3XH1TfKZ7RjqEWJLL_rM521Ksw-CFUR6XiHAh-mEMXc2t2p-x4xLFzB0jSaxjxNgYge053Hy8tBxpLB_KDVLgf68xp/s640/DSC02568.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">I love walking around my neighborhood. It is beautiful and changes by the block. I can get lost and love finding my way home. So far in the battle of Audrey versus the budget, Audrey is losing. I guess I get to throw a lot of my expenditures under the blanket of “start up costs,” but still. Does frozen yogurt count as a start up cost? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some stupid things that have been taking up too much of my time:</div><div class="MsoNormal">- getting stalked by the owner of a gym that I casually considered joining. Now that he has my number I am getting more calls from him than from my own boyfriend. </div><div class="MsoNormal">- finding an air conditioner. Three hours, five stores, and 2 buckets of sweat later I have a unit, but Jesus. </div><div class="MsoNormal">- trying to steal wireless from my neighbors. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have training for my job that includes a lot of “self-directed work time.” This may make me sound like a worthless lump, but that is a tough bill. Sorry if this is just me, but I would kind of prefer to have 25 kids sitting in front of me screaming “TEACH ME!” It is August and it is HOT. I need some motivation to get me working. And all these “hypotheticals” are seeming just a little too…hypothetical.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3J5Zad5sjb35bWxzNewnyU2Bgai4GpwJZTQyUrftczGtdG1XCKvrVsUyWbY9vO3iqOtL01MaqqlXEjAHJp6VLxRt1GZ7CnnD_2pHyIuhd_WBeOU8qi4ZiH4hko2EGpEgct1wU0xFeD7bJ/s1600/DSC02587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3J5Zad5sjb35bWxzNewnyU2Bgai4GpwJZTQyUrftczGtdG1XCKvrVsUyWbY9vO3iqOtL01MaqqlXEjAHJp6VLxRt1GZ7CnnD_2pHyIuhd_WBeOU8qi4ZiH4hko2EGpEgct1wU0xFeD7bJ/s640/DSC02587.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Plus I am just so busy. I have no time to plan a science curriculum, I am much too busy eating dumplings and staring at my boxes of crap, willing them to unpack themselves. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-40832595730060843112011-08-08T19:33:00.001-04:002011-08-12T10:51:22.857-04:00Chapter Two of my blogging life: New York City<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">*Sometimes bloggers need to take a week off. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Moving in to the fourth floor without an elevator, in the 90 degree heat, and with the faint smell of raw fish in the background is not anyone’s idea of a good time. But I am moved into my first post-college apartment (!!!!!) and I could not be happier. I spent the day wandering into 99 cent stores in China town and buying hand soap and paper towels. I wasn’t mentally with it enough to make any larger purchasing decisions than simple bathroom products. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I spent my day unpacking in my wonderful apartment that has the small downfall of being a sauna at the current moment. AC unit, I’m coming for you with a vengeance. I took breaks to walk around and get some air and soak in my new surroundings. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkfKnuFMwf4oUnVbcOmft7Jux9A3198qvkW1WoQl4RCxoWd9tRYeqxoPWfPAQMZz37X-TdyyWsLHmWPSoDNOV26bzv7RjZgNBVpDrM8BaOG_H6yrwlMk95sW92E31t3pB_gS5bdABUbT7/s1600/DSC02585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkfKnuFMwf4oUnVbcOmft7Jux9A3198qvkW1WoQl4RCxoWd9tRYeqxoPWfPAQMZz37X-TdyyWsLHmWPSoDNOV26bzv7RjZgNBVpDrM8BaOG_H6yrwlMk95sW92E31t3pB_gS5bdABUbT7/s640/DSC02585.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is my station at Starbucks, shamelessly buying the least expensive things in order to use their wireless for as long as I please. “How much would it cost for a mini-tall latte and a midget son of a cake pop?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Red Mango down the street, to that I say yes and yes. Free wireless on most blocks, sign me up. How long can we go without setting up our wireless internet? My life is now a game about saving money. If I win, then I get to keep living in New York, The Big Apple, The City. If I lose I am broke and have to call my parents crying and move home. The stakes are high. It is unclear how I will fare in this fight. On the one hand I have a history of frugality, while abroad in London I sometimes washed underwear in the shower in order to save money on laundry. (Each load was 10 euro.) But on the other hand, I am a lover of delicious beers, fine cheeses, and new accessories. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Stay tuned to see how I survive. </div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-83821663588808097452011-06-19T16:49:00.001-04:002011-06-19T16:55:06.381-04:00Beerventures: Portland, ORThe final destination of the road trip is not only home to a few of my favorite people, my childhood home, and the cutest 8 lb. dog alive, but is also more microbreweries than you can shake a stick at.<br />
Our second day home and my dad, Joey and I shook a stick at a few of them, (shook our sticks? Ok, joke's over.)<br />
I have frequented many watering holes (put a quarter in the writer's cliche jar!) in Portland, but I was interested in learning more about different kinds of beer. I love trying new kinds, and I want to expand the range of adjectives that I have to describe them. I want to be able to say something besides "light," "hoppy," "IPA," or "uno mas por favor."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgui9QJr26zI9jzqO24AApCXhRUyHX3D-SBye8VPRIYOLlkKKydpPk0ErWZToUCnlLxkaPTx7A7bspRRGqQPG0r0U2VphPn8XNGPfebcq1nMuffjCRZfr5SVVh0RxOcFY6perROlOsc6HDa/s1600/DSC02450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgui9QJr26zI9jzqO24AApCXhRUyHX3D-SBye8VPRIYOLlkKKydpPk0ErWZToUCnlLxkaPTx7A7bspRRGqQPG0r0U2VphPn8XNGPfebcq1nMuffjCRZfr5SVVh0RxOcFY6perROlOsc6HDa/s400/DSC02450.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belmont Station Taster</td></tr>
</tbody></table>First stop on the beer tour was Belmont Station in Southeast Portland, a combination beer bar and bottle store. We opted for the taster of the day with five featured beers from the extensive tap list. <br />
The next stop was Hopworks Urban Brewing, an eco-brew pub offering organic brews in a sustainable environment. We sampled ten of their beers in a fun circle situation, the bartender took a liking to our afternoon of exploration and gave us a few free samples of their cask aged beers as well. As far as I can tell, the cask brewing is a process that cuts the carbonation, and ups the alcohol.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOkeHX6Eg0g7Q8CPRvLYqAlJ5W_CrwSguw7ElrrH2TODi_xYVDC7pybJ1KgVRkpgrTNctXm_pXafbOaJxmQlpJ-_1-0sIZIOJFRXExaSShjmQIlA87bh6zkP77uZxBBQsJ_zWflaxHqbJ/s1600/DSC02454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOkeHX6Eg0g7Q8CPRvLYqAlJ5W_CrwSguw7ElrrH2TODi_xYVDC7pybJ1KgVRkpgrTNctXm_pXafbOaJxmQlpJ-_1-0sIZIOJFRXExaSShjmQIlA87bh6zkP77uZxBBQsJ_zWflaxHqbJ/s400/DSC02454.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheel of Wonder!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7V_ir8dMSY_TLpbGAasf_C-qgCc2NBNQ_d_dTnS1WYpISsoWwJLAzfhAJbGn15Yv621sF0aOaSHxfiImeiIgFQZVebN6givDv6fBjuJJqa0yq-WBhFE82npWX2GFGTYYmz3arqZLnfvB/s1600/DSC02456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7V_ir8dMSY_TLpbGAasf_C-qgCc2NBNQ_d_dTnS1WYpISsoWwJLAzfhAJbGn15Yv621sF0aOaSHxfiImeiIgFQZVebN6givDv6fBjuJJqa0yq-WBhFE82npWX2GFGTYYmz3arqZLnfvB/s400/DSC02456.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the bar decor of bike frames</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YyOH8SBxIA27uvR3ylJ_jwhwkBo8ONcAOtMJXB7o-iWyHC4hxUF8CPQOBs6FzIsrP5MH16GU-4i1R2Kub3xYSdmhg9ZiRvnDmQ-naOmToshKEXC-xdh27JBBmMwUychmr2N5b0-2e8rq/s1600/DSC02455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YyOH8SBxIA27uvR3ylJ_jwhwkBo8ONcAOtMJXB7o-iWyHC4hxUF8CPQOBs6FzIsrP5MH16GU-4i1R2Kub3xYSdmhg9ZiRvnDmQ-naOmToshKEXC-xdh27JBBmMwUychmr2N5b0-2e8rq/s400/DSC02455.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> My favorite beers at Hopworks were the plain ol' Lager and the Galactic Imperial Red, Joey and my dad preferred the Crosstown Pale Ale. I guess they like the lighter stuff, sissies. We all agreed that Hopworks had the best overall beer quality. We would have easily enjoyed a pint of each beer in the wheel, whereas the other tasters only showcased a few stars. <br />
Our final stop was Rogue Brewing in Northwest Portland. This is the home of the Dead Guy Ale, a beer that I am happy to see on taps as far away as Boston. Points to Rogue for offering customized tasters. The bartender gave us taster sheets where we could choose any four from their list to equal a pint. Four littles equals one big. I like that concept a lot. Also, gave us a better idea of the overall quantity that we were drinking. All three of us picked four different beers and shared sips.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGpDR8GYtfUhJaJSs9GGY9JgojyfD_xz7Znx3kNf5Axn5n_mk9CShQXkEkHVHKqslf06gsqHtOtZ3Lu0FjNsNYigjT3c60CYKEbbDl-sAxtjfyMXU5PDGQSh_2L59YEKp0nImA9WhZuVp/s1600/DSC02457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGpDR8GYtfUhJaJSs9GGY9JgojyfD_xz7Znx3kNf5Axn5n_mk9CShQXkEkHVHKqslf06gsqHtOtZ3Lu0FjNsNYigjT3c60CYKEbbDl-sAxtjfyMXU5PDGQSh_2L59YEKp0nImA9WhZuVp/s400/DSC02457.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPXTja9lVfAMrHkLfc94FyVlvFoDOLrVYt8UzT_Qh9Al419Bdx-GbSspYkZkdnt9E0q7tLr42neohL5gRAIcrZId0i6wzEuTzroDC-VtkC4rDm0J9BwrSLgyNhZ4ZHNIL5_TDTZI24q8O/s1600/DSC02458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPXTja9lVfAMrHkLfc94FyVlvFoDOLrVYt8UzT_Qh9Al419Bdx-GbSspYkZkdnt9E0q7tLr42neohL5gRAIcrZId0i6wzEuTzroDC-VtkC4rDm0J9BwrSLgyNhZ4ZHNIL5_TDTZI24q8O/s400/DSC02458.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tasters were served in wood carved "bottles"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>By the end we were feeling quite beer-snobbish, beers that we may have savored and raved about on a regular day seemed just "okay." But I suppose that comes with the territory when you're chock full of quality brews. If someone would have tried to pass me a Natty I probably would have spat in their face. I may need to lay off the micro brews because I don't know if I'm ready to be too good for Natty.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.belmont-station.com/">Belmont Station</a><br />
4500 SE Stark St<br />
Portland, OR<br />
<br />
<a href="http://hopworksbeer.com/">Hopworks Urban Brewery</a><br />
2944 SE Powell<br />
Portland, OR<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.rogue.com/index.php">Rogue Distillery and Public House</a><br />
1339 NW Flanders<br />
Portland, ORAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-35623679401244749702011-06-17T14:51:00.000-04:002011-06-17T14:51:24.030-04:00Day 12+13 San FranciscoWe drove into Bay area on 101 North, windows down, Joey's head out the window screaming "CALI!!!" to the other (thankfully) oblivious drivers. <br />
Our two days in SF were amazing and jam packed full of activities ranging from some more touristy things to some local exploring. At one point we were asked for directions by a lost tourist (lame) on the street, Joey and Audrey for the win. No, but really, other exciting things happened to us besides that.<br />
1. We walked across the Golden Gate Bridge in a blanket of complete fog. The next day when we were driving out of the city it was a bluebird day. I think we got the more authentic San Francisco bay experience when we were enveloped by a cloud.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving across, views for miles. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDw1lCCc9DJDxAhnI0q_02fxzcb3NKtePKkNLgM-3rHAb1AsjDrW1OCzbg54DZ6w9SUNf-kluoec9mrQCbfg630dMV9C864hNnWP50WzQ1mWea9fRHbjYRjnK96N2tB6EZBV7DiFfD_fH/s1600/DSC02404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDw1lCCc9DJDxAhnI0q_02fxzcb3NKtePKkNLgM-3rHAb1AsjDrW1OCzbg54DZ6w9SUNf-kluoec9mrQCbfg630dMV9C864hNnWP50WzQ1mWea9fRHbjYRjnK96N2tB6EZBV7DiFfD_fH/s400/DSC02404.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't win 'em all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>2. I forced Joey into eating four kinds of seafood. At one point any food that spent any of its life in the water would send him into a fit of heaving. Getting out of your comfort zone twelve step process ENGAGE.<br />
3. We watched a Giants game and crept up until our tickets had nearly tripled their value. Giants stadium is awesome, the club level was quite luxurious, watching seagulls circle the outfield was funky, and ya, I guess I watched some okay baseball too.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdbOGqRXk6yeq1gI_4UAhFm39oIa_gNEjCou0B5YElU_vXdbyl5g6SdtmeW54h43HASct7SD691LV-l1wlbAXKE_rA5qspuz9tH7sYETrbMmH18na-OUqoJFOPlbF9-wK6JT4_DmUBWv5/s1600/DSC02432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdbOGqRXk6yeq1gI_4UAhFm39oIa_gNEjCou0B5YElU_vXdbyl5g6SdtmeW54h43HASct7SD691LV-l1wlbAXKE_rA5qspuz9tH7sYETrbMmH18na-OUqoJFOPlbF9-wK6JT4_DmUBWv5/s400/DSC02432.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>4. We ate Chinese food on a sunday night when there was only a handful of restaurants open in China town. The soup and appetizers that we ordered for a light dinner were great but I wasn't allowed to take any pictures because Joey said we stuck out too much as it was. Alas, no pictures of my seaweed soup.<br />
5. Union Street festival! I love everything about festivals and I have a firm belief that if you have a choice between festival or no festival, the choice should always be festival! Art, artisans, free samples, and shopping. I did some damage at The Blue Jeans Bar on Union Street.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lombard Street</td></tr>
</tbody></table>6. Visiting Noe Valley and Joey's parents' old house. The current owner gave us a tour of the beautiful home and told us about some changes in the neighborhood. Walk through Joey's parents' footsteps concluded with an incredible dinner at their favorite restaurant from the 1980s, Firefly.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtll_hcxidejVkek0mwZo4Vb2IjPV-rgGB9Ki9RByV2k1HjGFQgjj9rM5Y3URyFs-7VyvwUHfdUlbyK7Ix87gkywletpCVfNzA9Y7c1yJ1Ld22Acnlu3zTcUVgrkVXYRzfC_iJ0QZxU0W/s1600/DSC02431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtll_hcxidejVkek0mwZo4Vb2IjPV-rgGB9Ki9RByV2k1HjGFQgjj9rM5Y3URyFs-7VyvwUHfdUlbyK7Ix87gkywletpCVfNzA9Y7c1yJ1Ld22Acnlu3zTcUVgrkVXYRzfC_iJ0QZxU0W/s400/DSC02431.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d0axrNn6hIpkzhcf3agtZapb-jRSuTvHfHYjqupMKkuNhYAXrN4iBmuGMiOWohdoTmxa-Bj2v02LmdQydpXk1iDBNMqGxw2ATvXFG2C7hS4H1GkRCFqWjwflyBTsp5FzSmldIn92yzOQ/s1600/DSC02430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d0axrNn6hIpkzhcf3agtZapb-jRSuTvHfHYjqupMKkuNhYAXrN4iBmuGMiOWohdoTmxa-Bj2v02LmdQydpXk1iDBNMqGxw2ATvXFG2C7hS4H1GkRCFqWjwflyBTsp5FzSmldIn92yzOQ/s400/DSC02430.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3K_1rt4uRmndw8VHBibd_Cu6Sqm3qw77Gnf675X3l4J1lUTJyclKnLBDGxfESom3LRfJAwyKWM1A8Cm1YxGEwkyViDGpHdo8uiO5_hS7IGhA1OKmvhCvUGqmRtDsC5PNsThsjt7Knvw5/s1600/DSC02424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3K_1rt4uRmndw8VHBibd_Cu6Sqm3qw77Gnf675X3l4J1lUTJyclKnLBDGxfESom3LRfJAwyKWM1A8Cm1YxGEwkyViDGpHdo8uiO5_hS7IGhA1OKmvhCvUGqmRtDsC5PNsThsjt7Knvw5/s400/DSC02424.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9rNXEZnYBaZd6a53lxpvp-cZwbsEQGDRxU61XKmEhowrOwRnWxNO7ihQf-n-XEh6Qq3sAO8ziJWeVTkS4VcuzDR5gA3O8_u_Ix4HiuS8HX4q6xALvZoyE3Pdk1mYpISxVUu-pHthbqKR/s1600/DSC02426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9rNXEZnYBaZd6a53lxpvp-cZwbsEQGDRxU61XKmEhowrOwRnWxNO7ihQf-n-XEh6Qq3sAO8ziJWeVTkS4VcuzDR5gA3O8_u_Ix4HiuS8HX4q6xALvZoyE3Pdk1mYpISxVUu-pHthbqKR/s400/DSC02426.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
7. An afternoon spent in Haight-Ashbury where we had our pick of any type of tie-dyed apparel we could imagine. We looked in bookstores and shoe shops, took a break from the steady mist with cocoa and coffee and saw 900 T-shirts that we didn't need but that looked <i>really cool</i>. <br />
<br />
One of the last stops on our trip, San Francisco made us forget that we were travel weary and sick of each other, (I kid...) So many high-lights and thrice as many reasons to go back ASAP. <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/AVvXsEhFYvPCu_gRNsXJ7LnZap1ehiFj3xjCM_8i4wjfrNXKmxzG0Tb_15K_LDhFIF89y84Wg1Bb7m8kB4ugiyBP_t79pBnfRSYnrganUbiodVYcZLlA-cSXWLjlJCSfAQRlRiydBQqHoc6lVBGl/s1600/DSC02391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYvPCu_gRNsXJ7LnZap1ehiFj3xjCM_8i4wjfrNXKmxzG0Tb_15K_LDhFIF89y84Wg1Bb7m8kB4ugiyBP_t79pBnfRSYnrganUbiodVYcZLlA-cSXWLjlJCSfAQRlRiydBQqHoc6lVBGl/s400/DSC02391.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alcatraz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-28184860244134994772011-06-15T14:10:00.000-04:002011-06-15T14:10:19.029-04:00Day 10: Grand Canyon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YVBKtWIZC4a-6FbAnLYshdmF7JCZMj5uxpLe-Ojufxi0E5kGItYQhdMj26W4uOk3p79Bq-QVhN9W5CRYcYbqmvngT-z6ZH_2nI5n6QHlzPB0Bl9wksgH8BZutCb3wxYz5sTCzrxyDyFR/s1600/DSC02307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YVBKtWIZC4a-6FbAnLYshdmF7JCZMj5uxpLe-Ojufxi0E5kGItYQhdMj26W4uOk3p79Bq-QVhN9W5CRYcYbqmvngT-z6ZH_2nI5n6QHlzPB0Bl9wksgH8BZutCb3wxYz5sTCzrxyDyFR/s400/DSC02307.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> I know this national park is called the "Grand Canyon" so we all get a little accustomed to the term, but let me tell you this is one GRAND CANYON.<br />
It may even be the grandest of canyons. <br />
By the end of the day I was the sweatiest of hikers.<br />
And had the most sun-burnt of legs.<br />
But I digress...<br />
We drove up to the Canyon from Flagstaff in the morning, not really knowing what to expect. We were headed for the South Rim, the more popular of the two visitor locations because of its easy access. After navigating three parking lots, two visitor centers, and two shuttle buses we finally arrived at the trail head. The park ranger had given us a recommendation for a day hike and we took his advice without doing much research on our own. When we arrived at the top of the trail, the hike looked much more difficult than we expected. It said that it was "for expert desert hikers only" and the sign gave warnings about a women who died in the canyon of dehydration. Joey and I stood at the top in our sneakers, prepared with a couple bottles of water, and a meager ration of snacks. After riding shuttle buses and navigating crowds of strollers and tour groups, we were ready to get away from people, so we started down the trail despite our lack of experience and supplies.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4-zGSJodYivCsQq0xrQPAzPYYg3wH9kEF060SR6vAanSHJAWwWEr0MSFZTeew6er3CxHp-kWTuHNdRYyofrmfC8xMUzpygAUitBGugJXQ2cPrmHVO2a4jwjKF4JfUYf5z1eGpGfyHc1H/s1600/DSC02343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4-zGSJodYivCsQq0xrQPAzPYYg3wH9kEF060SR6vAanSHJAWwWEr0MSFZTeew6er3CxHp-kWTuHNdRYyofrmfC8xMUzpygAUitBGugJXQ2cPrmHVO2a4jwjKF4JfUYf5z1eGpGfyHc1H/s400/DSC02343.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> The hike took us 2.5 miles down into the canyon with switch backs on the steep side wall. The views of the inside of the canyon were incredible, we had a completely different perspective than from the top rim. The hike offered no shade, and after about an hour in the heat we started to wonder when we would turn around to go back up. It dawned on us that every step we took down into the canyon was another step that we would have to go up on the way back. Glancing up at the top rim was intimidating, we had made it so far down, it was hot as blazes, and the altitude was doing work on my cardio fitness.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6e1vV82yVVTvcitliD_6_gPqPZV4_YBVA4hFHFM1cXBfHGyRK7fDGcNoLP0yabrP23Ia5AU-bNEyY1say7XOvI364q4ckL8fjyLGjNf0643klaE8cLPTqTZ0OQLt9nPL543xhl8WwST51/s1600/DSC02344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6e1vV82yVVTvcitliD_6_gPqPZV4_YBVA4hFHFM1cXBfHGyRK7fDGcNoLP0yabrP23Ia5AU-bNEyY1say7XOvI364q4ckL8fjyLGjNf0643klaE8cLPTqTZ0OQLt9nPL543xhl8WwST51/s400/DSC02344.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> The hike was on the Hermit's Rest trail head and took us to the Santa Maria spring. When we finally arrived at the spring, it was just a little hose draining into a bathtub-like trough. Not quite a bubbling brook, but I don't know what else I expected in the middle of the desert.<br />
The hike ended up taking us exactly three hours, we made it up to the top in exactly as long as it took us to get down. This was probably due to the fact that we were in survival mode and just wanted to moter back up.<br />
The Grand Canyon was completely worth it and we were glad that we took a challenging hike. I wanted to feel like I truly experienced it. If I were ever to go again I would want to backpack and camp on the inside.<br />
This day was a highlight of the trip for sure. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KWNiMB5fWELhDP5zZ_-rUZOwa8Ow2dtepVlt_HEjCwAqqzJUIPYcdmTs7FTs17gDSHeLzUyj47CkT8kfVkKwiTEq1VJRzgYYFjUw6t3fcnYd4rmjgS3P4aCZ3AGFgRlzhyphenhyphenYiRVtZkMLy/s1600/DSC02359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KWNiMB5fWELhDP5zZ_-rUZOwa8Ow2dtepVlt_HEjCwAqqzJUIPYcdmTs7FTs17gDSHeLzUyj47CkT8kfVkKwiTEq1VJRzgYYFjUw6t3fcnYd4rmjgS3P4aCZ3AGFgRlzhyphenhyphenYiRVtZkMLy/s400/DSC02359.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-83648283644220992772011-06-15T00:38:00.000-04:002011-06-15T00:38:56.046-04:00Day 8+9: Santa Fe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI25mod9Ct1E6tEHREN-5HyNDV5qRhM9wp4FmaDBFCCPrZRJwRfYK7IyEuRBZoViN2g_hyO60f4HAf49m3Epa3u8uo6T3ZqvfdXorkGjDTUGI7D3pyF9_Xo0NCCewFbX4rLyy9uKJ1XzAu/s1600/DSC02239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI25mod9Ct1E6tEHREN-5HyNDV5qRhM9wp4FmaDBFCCPrZRJwRfYK7IyEuRBZoViN2g_hyO60f4HAf49m3Epa3u8uo6T3ZqvfdXorkGjDTUGI7D3pyF9_Xo0NCCewFbX4rLyy9uKJ1XzAu/s400/DSC02239.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> New Mexico looks like no other place I had ever been. The desert extended beyond the limits of my vision. Pulling into Joey's cousin's driveway we could not have been more ready to get out of the car. Our first priority was to do something that required movement, my legs felt paralyzed in a seated position. We took an exploratory walk into downtown. We lapped through the plaza and snaked up and down streets lined with interesting shops and beautiful homes. Two hours later we were finally ready to sit back down. Santa Fe looked nothing like any city I've seen before, I had a hard time imagining it as a big city because all of the building were so low. Not a sky scraper to be seen, but the neighborhoods sprawled in every which direction.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUC0T6e_ETS77ap8vaYao9BnVvWHujaqvfRTvNIIFIXtWKof_BmHXaxfUj-wCRo6_mSpREwOyxS0eSUS7hIEqwMmOXduC3LmNepa-_9whGChXrJlq1XiQB21iJqwWf6XzG75zZ290nRlpN/s1600/DSC02231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUC0T6e_ETS77ap8vaYao9BnVvWHujaqvfRTvNIIFIXtWKof_BmHXaxfUj-wCRo6_mSpREwOyxS0eSUS7hIEqwMmOXduC3LmNepa-_9whGChXrJlq1XiQB21iJqwWf6XzG75zZ290nRlpN/s400/DSC02231.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5zPh7HEualPaOrVVKC7Jk5JAWz5Bn1gm7s932GeyNTv3_kXc6t_1elsGEroliKU3EyAiKIwbP4hJkgBojkq87GPMKPS_J-TWpWtZTN-ziZhEUK-sqCzWm3k3bq25wuFkj4Y3694qGhfd/s1600/DSC02238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5zPh7HEualPaOrVVKC7Jk5JAWz5Bn1gm7s932GeyNTv3_kXc6t_1elsGEroliKU3EyAiKIwbP4hJkgBojkq87GPMKPS_J-TWpWtZTN-ziZhEUK-sqCzWm3k3bq25wuFkj4Y3694qGhfd/s400/DSC02238.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> We stopped for dinner at La Choza, a neighborhood favorite of our hosts. My two years experience working at a Mexican restaurant taught me little more than how to refill a water glass so I am no expert on what is or is not authentic. However, both of our dishes were spicier than all get out. Like are-my-lips-swollen-because-they're-in-pain spicy. I had sauteed fish tacos and Joey had the enchiladas with carne adovada. "Adovada" is one of the more fun words that has crossed my tongue in a while. Go ahead, take it for a spin.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALW5COZQCaKAw_ejnNMg-iJL2uXqjhTirB5ydeXv1FPZi15lTWuNrxv9OUH39oSuuSU2abF4yDBuBZOF4RlZq-6QuKR_tbtMMkjvBo8T0Uimq-WtbXIqvKbzNZrSDEG9Ft8eNs01Z1hBo/s1600/DSC02240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALW5COZQCaKAw_ejnNMg-iJL2uXqjhTirB5ydeXv1FPZi15lTWuNrxv9OUH39oSuuSU2abF4yDBuBZOF4RlZq-6QuKR_tbtMMkjvBo8T0Uimq-WtbXIqvKbzNZrSDEG9Ft8eNs01Z1hBo/s400/DSC02240.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>My tacos were great but I could hardly taste the fish because I was too busy being slapped in the face by the spiciness. Luckily our dinner was served with sopapillas, pieces of sweet, pillowy dough that you're supposed to eat drizzled with honey. The starchy neutrality of the bread was a pleasant respite from the heat of our entrees.<br />
The next morning I took a jogging tour of Santa Fe. Altitude and a week of sitting on my bottom all day did not make this the easiest run of all time, but the it was nice to get out in the early morning. Our main event for the day was going to Canyon Road, the mecca of all things art in Santa Fe. The city is known for its galleries, artists, and pervasive artsy culture and we wanted to soak it in. The road is lined with dozens and dozens of galleries, each with unique showrooms, sculpture gardens, and styles. I'm not normally a person who can walk around staring at art on the wall for hours, (my attention span for museums is about 55 minutes,) but this was an entirely different experience. The art bubbled out of each shop, creeped onto the sidewalk and tempted us to enter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-o7GTLY8KMlff7_RsJjsqqeQF0ZKcfq78uxvKe4V25_MtRk0JRIqCSBOBi0RDtJSKT3dTHD_kyIPMGUexSrIW9dVhwXqrmtB8eQ7fK19NksM0pAB_w8BNlXneHdYk3WtaXFiRZgWT6HI/s1600/DSC02246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-o7GTLY8KMlff7_RsJjsqqeQF0ZKcfq78uxvKe4V25_MtRk0JRIqCSBOBi0RDtJSKT3dTHD_kyIPMGUexSrIW9dVhwXqrmtB8eQ7fK19NksM0pAB_w8BNlXneHdYk3WtaXFiRZgWT6HI/s400/DSC02246.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4-9FYK5aBa15rhdXhyphenhyphenb0Zdw7qOr7cO5w3nHCXm2mj7gONJlyNkuiHPWMa0QoTl1cPEEZtsjm-IkzmoKci6NNA6-nyoQfzjKMPC0DlkgxfnB0urfxsBoYoq3-Nxu4pRkA9TaS4Thsjasu/s1600/DSC02261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4-9FYK5aBa15rhdXhyphenhyphenb0Zdw7qOr7cO5w3nHCXm2mj7gONJlyNkuiHPWMa0QoTl1cPEEZtsjm-IkzmoKci6NNA6-nyoQfzjKMPC0DlkgxfnB0urfxsBoYoq3-Nxu4pRkA9TaS4Thsjasu/s400/DSC02261.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoKc-h87K3OGke6juQfielq7Iki2Akna5tgSg5IN7ifdu5elxo-A-_p4mSe-Hw9sFhIQzcHKu99BNhFGNNKsvi0FyMvjLIv3D8RjsCTXSqEgwtjTsE7ZmRqIbF8cXkW5s3IkzgPcvu8O_/s1600/DSC02262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoKc-h87K3OGke6juQfielq7Iki2Akna5tgSg5IN7ifdu5elxo-A-_p4mSe-Hw9sFhIQzcHKu99BNhFGNNKsvi0FyMvjLIv3D8RjsCTXSqEgwtjTsE7ZmRqIbF8cXkW5s3IkzgPcvu8O_/s400/DSC02262.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNGfjjfApAjNvqmEC0okixny6KXhuGKRfHgr9L76jLKKiFIHg9kPjTsAy_we73ZybZW5bhBXeIGHc2PWRwrwEhZ-La6CE6jXHmrRYh63HCIKrz9I6EoiO3GiBGjefDhCtzFu4rfceXY2X/s1600/DSC02279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNGfjjfApAjNvqmEC0okixny6KXhuGKRfHgr9L76jLKKiFIHg9kPjTsAy_we73ZybZW5bhBXeIGHc2PWRwrwEhZ-La6CE6jXHmrRYh63HCIKrz9I6EoiO3GiBGjefDhCtzFu4rfceXY2X/s400/DSC02279.JPG" width="300" /></a></div> We spent hours wandering in and out of galleries. We met many friendly people willing to talk about the art, although we both felt too inexperienced to ask many questions, or we were just enjoying playing around with some of the funny pieces. After several hours the heat started to get to us, so we cooled our heels at The Tea House. This place was alll about tea and gave me way too many choices. Joey and I both ordered iced chais and were handed drinks with some serious spice. This was not your average Starbucks latte here people. The shop was this adorable little house that fit in perfectly with the Canyon Road vibe.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuFqSKUlwY-z1FHyREvrxElDtyzdaxEJ21r7MtzjfxcP81Bt36D6soj2JfxYSxNJu1pA2YPX79FGc-8RgF7HRg3m4uyg2LNOh6IvRHNUOx8TZTnm0sbu5qZUqKdlRHQdNV6o3GyJpiB_e/s1600/DSC02281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuFqSKUlwY-z1FHyREvrxElDtyzdaxEJ21r7MtzjfxcP81Bt36D6soj2JfxYSxNJu1pA2YPX79FGc-8RgF7HRg3m4uyg2LNOh6IvRHNUOx8TZTnm0sbu5qZUqKdlRHQdNV6o3GyJpiB_e/s400/DSC02281.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslXR0W523rUFQjfls7KLdOt3H6FEKh5An-Vklxxx84Ei-VvWgzW9ZSDCeYxurnHuzwfBXXsy4Vn6Ci01oaHn2TGVcpd_-qE3GJRWgeisWpUrvz1PbIiBwWfYQ9G2o07Si6tOc-pmaXki4/s1600/DSC02286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslXR0W523rUFQjfls7KLdOt3H6FEKh5An-Vklxxx84Ei-VvWgzW9ZSDCeYxurnHuzwfBXXsy4Vn6Ci01oaHn2TGVcpd_-qE3GJRWgeisWpUrvz1PbIiBwWfYQ9G2o07Si6tOc-pmaXki4/s400/DSC02286.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> The rest of our day was spent hanging with the cousins and enjoying an Indian dinner with a handful of his family. His cousin's eight year old daughter introduced me to the wonders of sag paneer, my multi-ethnic food education continues. Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-795629580854224812011-06-10T14:02:00.001-04:002011-06-10T14:04:41.200-04:00Day 6+7: Oklahoma, Arkansas, Texas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioK8fdXaJpr-iLtDq__H1x_1qsBluBG4lzIXyExqTm2Rr23NisuMQN6rGb3tjt18asIBuh_Z4OzEhqmopKLp3BAbTmIj91PZfPr39ZTo62WpH9GqtouqiTu9tDdoDBeXkudFMdLuf7yp8_/s1600/DSC02228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioK8fdXaJpr-iLtDq__H1x_1qsBluBG4lzIXyExqTm2Rr23NisuMQN6rGb3tjt18asIBuh_Z4OzEhqmopKLp3BAbTmIj91PZfPr39ZTo62WpH9GqtouqiTu9tDdoDBeXkudFMdLuf7yp8_/s400/DSC02228.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> The phrase "hitting the open road" may conjure images of a convertible packed with leather trunks, smiling faces, and glowing Marlboro Reds cruising down Route 66 towards California and freedom. My Volvo was somewhat less glamorous: five hundred bugs plastered to the grill, four Red Bulls, three stops for fast food, two tired drivers, and one interstate going west.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfXXH2szElTkJaxHba0x0biJFagPLodhFkkuhkooBgDH5Jap_EF72wFMLF9w6EObwmYagUPd69v1pkSU2bBLgC1zGf7ySN3I9fwdlF6kRQ_HgM86EHcjfmhUw_mQiXlhuWRmdtwig4bZ9/s1600/DSC02226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfXXH2szElTkJaxHba0x0biJFagPLodhFkkuhkooBgDH5Jap_EF72wFMLF9w6EObwmYagUPd69v1pkSU2bBLgC1zGf7ySN3I9fwdlF6kRQ_HgM86EHcjfmhUw_mQiXlhuWRmdtwig4bZ9/s400/DSC02226.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Some highlights of the two days that it took us to travel from Memphis to Santa Fe, (a casual distance of one thousand miles,) were the stops at Sonic Drive-in, a stroll around Oklahoma City, some fried okra, tornado-free skies, and the fact that Joey and I didn't kill each other.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXNgVFWoBoq4PNu-Y2Hk2o8iB3RjUmgHUFhgHdFNOy0WNWDs1QCXmp4Lpa5dSwrLGKFGW6qnMbicHglsctImWovANttF6jfexIIAxAkKBcfVz5vnnCqvzs2b4dBumZ993QYYolkb-jBtt/s1600/DSC02206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXNgVFWoBoq4PNu-Y2Hk2o8iB3RjUmgHUFhgHdFNOy0WNWDs1QCXmp4Lpa5dSwrLGKFGW6qnMbicHglsctImWovANttF6jfexIIAxAkKBcfVz5vnnCqvzs2b4dBumZ993QYYolkb-jBtt/s400/DSC02206.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKW3v1O9tkXp7NhhurVxBGdkGs9jFE8BNqyo6XNPUxwwxr-UvBcMVoV_3KYRVuC1Ur7IvAbmPCBX7LTmQ5swSEFSBpy-lzT9EFiwpZkMTemQg-XSBqyHhD2qsZarGI5mAoRioQzWyFxUoV/s1600/DSC02209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKW3v1O9tkXp7NhhurVxBGdkGs9jFE8BNqyo6XNPUxwwxr-UvBcMVoV_3KYRVuC1Ur7IvAbmPCBX7LTmQ5swSEFSBpy-lzT9EFiwpZkMTemQg-XSBqyHhD2qsZarGI5mAoRioQzWyFxUoV/s400/DSC02209.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn3OmCePQ-t10TV4ZakJMuM4x4SqkqtQHJiX5aoIW4ZMAKbfY8xKObwbCtcj627zeziV8AGNDm1RvWBVeC4S5rclklxRny7Tyf3v7QTNXSQXq-SgZM8PQdDZvhZ8C_3YmZDtVyJxV-0aX-/s1600/DSC02210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn3OmCePQ-t10TV4ZakJMuM4x4SqkqtQHJiX5aoIW4ZMAKbfY8xKObwbCtcj627zeziV8AGNDm1RvWBVeC4S5rclklxRny7Tyf3v7QTNXSQXq-SgZM8PQdDZvhZ8C_3YmZDtVyJxV-0aX-/s400/DSC02210.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxZ5Nkg0lGPy_wW2n4ikSA8v8j7avfc-LU6EstFWlEbIRWkQSl-H-eQ8rOpR5LuVVuM0ARjvfVDr8IBpJSWkY7taCI1cFjf3pwBTrsJ49Fe0caYpnlx6e5oeRxg8CIPPBTxlCfri7e1tI/s1600/DSC02211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxZ5Nkg0lGPy_wW2n4ikSA8v8j7avfc-LU6EstFWlEbIRWkQSl-H-eQ8rOpR5LuVVuM0ARjvfVDr8IBpJSWkY7taCI1cFjf3pwBTrsJ49Fe0caYpnlx6e5oeRxg8CIPPBTxlCfri7e1tI/s400/DSC02211.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9otTFy8W99QMzD34HrwBGkERdd2fAKAFssu-LlFxdBdtqxUIQ9Uvjrwos9kvosyIAkNprmioxY59jCm4D0KRTag1WBVyvANXBQfS6tHAxFkbJmsLXlWY6-PDDlOlrveqshhUE0b0l8xm/s1600/DSC02223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9otTFy8W99QMzD34HrwBGkERdd2fAKAFssu-LlFxdBdtqxUIQ9Uvjrwos9kvosyIAkNprmioxY59jCm4D0KRTag1WBVyvANXBQfS6tHAxFkbJmsLXlWY6-PDDlOlrveqshhUE0b0l8xm/s400/DSC02223.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-37244052007596875622011-06-09T13:32:00.000-04:002011-06-09T13:32:03.340-04:00Day 5: Nashville to MemphisLeaving Nashville we were satisfied with our time spent in the country music capital of the world, but done with Tennessee, we were not. The Volvo sped west to Memphis on music highway and we were anxious for what was in store.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUs9-dMQCMZW6zTHyZhyvbcq3R6GE1A9TImBfKLhdqzh2Mu9HOOWhQ3KGYJaZm_7ltIFv1CeOHQFPtNSP4YJml8PDLKFJhZmdB77ttIAvGLMjcfChdqtBiAEzkuciyCI4vcdoOsnznVhD5/s1600/DSC02168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUs9-dMQCMZW6zTHyZhyvbcq3R6GE1A9TImBfKLhdqzh2Mu9HOOWhQ3KGYJaZm_7ltIFv1CeOHQFPtNSP4YJml8PDLKFJhZmdB77ttIAvGLMjcfChdqtBiAEzkuciyCI4vcdoOsnznVhD5/s400/DSC02168.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>First stop, Graceland, home of Elvis. Again it was a heavy, oppressive heat that flirted with a three digit numeral. I was looking forward to seeing this famous place, but I was not looking forward to wading through the maze of souvenoir shops, snack bars, lines, and tour groups. Thirty minutes later I was sweaty, standing in line, someone was trying to take my picture and force me to buy it. It was a battlefield out there. We considered turning back, but we persevered. When we finally allowed to enter through the doors of the Graceland Mansion, all was forgotten. The house was incredible. Elvis bought the place when he was 22 years old, and the rooms looked like they were decorated by a wild and creative young rock and roll bachelor, there was a room with lightening bolts on the walls and a jungle room with an indoor waterfall. The house was well-preserved and the audio tour was engaging. We left happily chattering about Elvis and thrilled that we decided to stick it out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhILndMUDmthvBOXbMRtGrjl4LIpcE4jFvRP7IZKX5u8gAlI-kWJOjfhBo-QmsXC9skI9ktKgV4yga7x7S56LD6rV-ybKhX-jxiXNbzsyziGNUXR3zgp2YnZI8vrIfL4tKHKmSZUcPVzDW/s1600/DSC02155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhILndMUDmthvBOXbMRtGrjl4LIpcE4jFvRP7IZKX5u8gAlI-kWJOjfhBo-QmsXC9skI9ktKgV4yga7x7S56LD6rV-ybKhX-jxiXNbzsyziGNUXR3zgp2YnZI8vrIfL4tKHKmSZUcPVzDW/s400/DSC02155.JPG" width="400" /></a> <br />
Our next stop was food. We had been given a recommendation to go to Rendezvous for barbecue in downtown Memphis so we took off to find the spot. When we arrived in a back alley we saw a perfect looking spot. It was in a tucked away place, looked like a gem of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The only problem was that it was gated over; "closed on Sundays." We sat down in the alley, defeated. We were too hungry to give up so easily, with the help of smartphones and a friendly jogger we found our way to Beale Street and the Blues City Cafe. This turned out to be <i>the spot</i>. Joey and I are both into blindly ordering the specialties of any given restaurant, so "World Famous Tamales" and "Best Ribs in Memphis" it was. We inquired to our waiter how much food we should order, he must have been confused because we were given enough food to feed a large family. Ribs, tamales, chili, toast, fries, coleslaw, and beans were placed down on our table. I didn't even know where to begin. The ribs were delicious and had a nice crusty exterior that I enjoyed. The tamales were nothing like their Mexican cousins wrapped in corn husks, these were wrapped in wax paper and filled with spicy beef, peppers, and other barbecue flavors.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPAlCsqdqL4UkUNKHxB8JF0xPjr78ctFjoRDX32-FnPyUkyADoJMTnr0m5hsnqnWmOkGU2xM-jMmbDJgKi6wLt11O1zZve1F-aadWbMhVYkKsZf6sBppMnHeHGEaWmhiqC53TRa0JhAIO/s1600/DSC02176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPAlCsqdqL4UkUNKHxB8JF0xPjr78ctFjoRDX32-FnPyUkyADoJMTnr0m5hsnqnWmOkGU2xM-jMmbDJgKi6wLt11O1zZve1F-aadWbMhVYkKsZf6sBppMnHeHGEaWmhiqC53TRa0JhAIO/s400/DSC02176.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrSCUWcVlZuOOmLA5vbl6leo2gjfBHEaRnooE455gLz2qXhCdaueQroUkNpNEY0G9qvwcLQmr1n_ailARdlVFPxh4cbzb4XYbIRP9CpLlh8AxyAhxO6JZdyQcpESjERtpn86wukU18eRG/s1600/DSC02180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrSCUWcVlZuOOmLA5vbl6leo2gjfBHEaRnooE455gLz2qXhCdaueQroUkNpNEY0G9qvwcLQmr1n_ailARdlVFPxh4cbzb4XYbIRP9CpLlh8AxyAhxO6JZdyQcpESjERtpn86wukU18eRG/s400/DSC02180.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6KxjFdvE5wseBv8QmXUqG35GGJ7yr_yd2PGZ63Nc4wZafHMNQkSvXlPITurg4vBPFxda0kSkaWgutkqlexJsE4vN8pjTBpzDbh63VNG1bL5BU5sCTy7IBGk7mxxy1VBC-5EjhReSdK_7/s1600/DSC02183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6KxjFdvE5wseBv8QmXUqG35GGJ7yr_yd2PGZ63Nc4wZafHMNQkSvXlPITurg4vBPFxda0kSkaWgutkqlexJsE4vN8pjTBpzDbh63VNG1bL5BU5sCTy7IBGk7mxxy1VBC-5EjhReSdK_7/s400/DSC02183.JPG" width="300" /></a></div> We took our time, enjoying people watching and watching the moving parts of the restaurant come together. There was a giant oven where the body part equivalent of ten pigs was smoking, and three men who put plates together in some kind of ordered chaos. Somehow after our meal of almost entirely meat products, we were able to think about dessert. The waiter recommended the apple dumpling and two minutes later a small iron skillet arrive with apples, buttery crust, bubbling caramel, and vanilla ice cream melting over it all. There is no explanation necessary, that dish tasted as good as it sounds. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDr2urPvln7xcTFWb8T57khx6-eBleo5WuP70NnA9iGTjTFe9q2OONa2gElW0F6DorGh5vIrO0qkESsNyuud0VABIm1X2Nl0pgiLSbkDBHdTiMIcNYBALOXeIuNXZxWve61dg3DYkEYrN/s1600/DSC02189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDr2urPvln7xcTFWb8T57khx6-eBleo5WuP70NnA9iGTjTFe9q2OONa2gElW0F6DorGh5vIrO0qkESsNyuud0VABIm1X2Nl0pgiLSbkDBHdTiMIcNYBALOXeIuNXZxWve61dg3DYkEYrN/s400/DSC02189.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beale Street during the day</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYNmyY9EbAfhwiegO9fBHO1M83B2xcQ30hpznmjYGxM3x3mS-2l4-v_3AnVrf6EqnIU_PuM7ZrZK8uyuGJ0RtU2zwbp4IMjqpD_s_6osRPNX7ov6mA8mfpSFTI-pgWLkPaXDxMNDJn678/s1600/DSC02192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYNmyY9EbAfhwiegO9fBHO1M83B2xcQ30hpznmjYGxM3x3mS-2l4-v_3AnVrf6EqnIU_PuM7ZrZK8uyuGJ0RtU2zwbp4IMjqpD_s_6osRPNX7ov6mA8mfpSFTI-pgWLkPaXDxMNDJn678/s400/DSC02192.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beale Street at night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Later that night, after we had a good long post-bbq siesta, we ventured out into the wild streets of Memphis in search of bars and live music. We headed back towards Beale Street, although when we arrived the scene was completely different than the one we had left four hours ago. The street was blocked off and people roamed around, drinks in hand. A large plaza showcased a stage with a blues band and female singer whose voice reverberated for blocks. Outdoor drink stands offered everything from beers to four foot plastic cups filled with a rainbow of colored beverages. Street preformers did backflips down the block and groups of partiers danced in formation on the sidewalk to the prompts of a DJ. We stopped into several bars, following the sound of blues guitar and saxophone. We landed at a kareoke bar serving only a variety of alcoholic slurpees. We ordered one to share called the "attitude adjustment" and watched crooners perform slow jams on stage.<br />
We started to feel the affects of the drink stands so we strolled through the warm streets and back to the hotel. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfwBiL3t4X98XGnxZhgpe7XLkoWD41it2RuJUNLnEVbJd8P06QVHdYG1YZvM50nQx0alPBL5jwPsuLeY54fmQZ2s_Rrc7ZIEclNRwS5ut53pEwjdV_XFe54cEOzrIMjAYm_nuEpaRA0Li/s1600/DSC02202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfwBiL3t4X98XGnxZhgpe7XLkoWD41it2RuJUNLnEVbJd8P06QVHdYG1YZvM50nQx0alPBL5jwPsuLeY54fmQZ2s_Rrc7ZIEclNRwS5ut53pEwjdV_XFe54cEOzrIMjAYm_nuEpaRA0Li/s400/DSC02202.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-57018022229303715792011-06-02T11:12:00.000-04:002011-06-02T11:12:28.615-04:00Day 4: Knoxville to Nashville<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1DpogZE4U2vBCUL81giTuDML_T_6r_jR5nRe4EOvFuR1AxMwQIMNscBRpAehi3dTTxa9iJp6GIK3iQ6ITMwkrLrskS8mngVJJf3umxqSvojD1Nxq7xEZseTlIjPvV_I6XURP-yWf6OW3/s1600/DSC02144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1DpogZE4U2vBCUL81giTuDML_T_6r_jR5nRe4EOvFuR1AxMwQIMNscBRpAehi3dTTxa9iJp6GIK3iQ6ITMwkrLrskS8mngVJJf3umxqSvojD1Nxq7xEZseTlIjPvV_I6XURP-yWf6OW3/s400/DSC02144.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Nashville, Tennessee, home of CMT and nicknamed “music city”, was our next stop. A couple hours of morning driving put us into Nashville around noon. The lackluster hotel breakfast left us hungry and ready to dive into some Tennessee barbeque. Walking out onto main street we were bombarded with men in Hawaiian shirts, women in coconut bras, and a giant street festival with palm trees and margarita stands. Apparently Jimmy Buffet was playing live that night and there was a day long party in the street in preparation. We dodged hordes of parrot heads and found our way to Broadway Brewing and Mojo Grille. It had open air seating so we could still hear the band in the street. Little did we know this would be the first of 57 cover bands we would hear in the next 48 hours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>We sat down and ordered beers, deeming this midday imbibing acceptable by the fact that there were people my parents age walking around with tall boys. For lunch we both went for Southern options. I had a cup of gumbo made with chicken and andouille sausage, and a salad topped with bacon and jalapeños. The gumbo was spicy and thick, I loved the slices of sausage that gave it some serious kick. Joey ordered the house special pork sandwich. It came smothered in cheese, topped with bacon, on a thick brioche bun. The panama sauce on the side was sweet and added perfect balance to the pork. What is panama sauce? I have no idea. The extras were nice but the sandwich really held up because the pork itself was so tender and flavorful </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OQLCuUwi-5hWEF_zQDIUf2Eq5WqZsvw2WRVgeMdwa7TDwIB5MLO8KCyUN1uBs_-OUJqUtxJrc67iPsEROkfAwANTaoYCftjSs-yCtpIcN0QowpMFp8PD2PhcJL5nxVQiTLMSiSgeA584/s1600/DSC02105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OQLCuUwi-5hWEF_zQDIUf2Eq5WqZsvw2WRVgeMdwa7TDwIB5MLO8KCyUN1uBs_-OUJqUtxJrc67iPsEROkfAwANTaoYCftjSs-yCtpIcN0QowpMFp8PD2PhcJL5nxVQiTLMSiSgeA584/s400/DSC02105.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><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/AVvXsEhaLEVnq7KcHCatqwPHhQoehs2UGP194_3aFxoReH3drpQAUOYFzfMij7RKGb1AkQjBW9S9YLv8T_Jha4LlPSJhi7rf4jQTPdNdz6VVp9yUSkGLPDtsfqFvpPgc_pQte-ESOJwmsuReZThr/s1600/DSC02106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLEVnq7KcHCatqwPHhQoehs2UGP194_3aFxoReH3drpQAUOYFzfMij7RKGb1AkQjBW9S9YLv8T_Jha4LlPSJhi7rf4jQTPdNdz6VVp9yUSkGLPDtsfqFvpPgc_pQte-ESOJwmsuReZThr/s400/DSC02106.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When is a salad not a salad? When it's covered in bacon and cheese. </td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span>After lunch we decided to get more involved with the street festival but we didn’t stay long because I had my first encounter with a cicada and I nearly passed out. I did not know that there were bugs on this earth that were that large, then one was suddenly on MY FACE. They were everywhere, they moved in packs, and they were relentless. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>The Country Music Museum and Hall of Fame looked like it would make good cover from the flying monsters. It turned out to be pretty solid entertainment as well. Georgette Jones, daughter of famed country star Tammy Wynette, was playing with her band in the auditorium. She played a tribute to her mother for a large audience and several cameramen. I may have only heard of this women five minutes earlier, but I enjoyed the performance nonetheless. Even for someone who knows little about country music (I once went to a Taylor Swift concert, does that count?) the museum was engaging and fun. It was definitely a commitment at 25 dollars, but I was completely glad that I went. The man at the tourist info center said that this was the best use of money and time in Nashville, (besides tall boys of Land Shark at the street festival, of course,) and I was glad we took his word for it. </span></div><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/AVvXsEgtzW8oO-Tkf6Y32Vv7Mcq0Ejtnqfl02-EqPgEdnu6f29119ynPO6BF2BpKnKfu0p5DD0cEfXa76JJ6cnV5w_F9HtYOYtjow72hJUgfnaOknUsLnUB1MruNpp1JGpqF0TQ6gPwEjGFGfYL1/s1600/DSC02111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzW8oO-Tkf6Y32Vv7Mcq0Ejtnqfl02-EqPgEdnu6f29119ynPO6BF2BpKnKfu0p5DD0cEfXa76JJ6cnV5w_F9HtYOYtjow72hJUgfnaOknUsLnUB1MruNpp1JGpqF0TQ6gPwEjGFGfYL1/s400/DSC02111.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Georgette Jones and her band</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEZv1TUp1iOx3bxG9nk7OjL_TaWJWXVb8r4QSvDPKV1H1uohvw4UgiBN65GnMT0sxlchN2VhGe88OueNuZS7PVaSX_VBx8WQNorfSqa3bE4o9HQ7gqnHZSvbDZm5ellO9uOzGVHRgp-kG/s1600/DSC02120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEZv1TUp1iOx3bxG9nk7OjL_TaWJWXVb8r4QSvDPKV1H1uohvw4UgiBN65GnMT0sxlchN2VhGe88OueNuZS7PVaSX_VBx8WQNorfSqa3bE4o9HQ7gqnHZSvbDZm5ellO9uOzGVHRgp-kG/s400/DSC02120.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Audrey" cowboy boots worn by Hank Williams wife, Audrey Williams. Where do I get mine? </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Whenever I’ve been traveling, there have always been a few things that didn’t quite turn out right. For us, there was the Grand Ole Opry. We drove out there because we thought we would see a beautiful old building and be enchanted by stories of its history. Instead we were led by my GPS, Susan, to a mall complex in the middle of a sad, tacky, tourist explosion. It was a disappointment, it was 100 degrees, there were 1000 cicadas, and we were pissed. Joey drowned his sorrows in a bag of kettle corn. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Later that night we were not disappointed by our venture to the Wildhorse Saloon, a bar known for its live music and dancing. We arrived and drank a pint to prepare ourselves for the line dancing. While I am comfortable with the swing, some pop and lock, and even some good ol’ bump and grind, line dancing is horse of a different color. I was in Nashville and I was not going to pass up this opportunity. By the end of the lesson, Joey and I had tamed the beast, and we were grape-vining, lasso-ing, and stomp-clapping with the best of them. </span></div><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/AVvXsEjSPTDZfCC7pht2WtUOPbY0g0bBThSmMxI_8CB9EFcmCNjGsJKBJlUBlv9g-MVRhtEeP16D-O5fFbfgFJ6bX3gVHGuXpLazGzS7Mr0seoHcGYUkI3a2nGKBREYH-CtGnwqCKibuSNPXoj_c/s1600/DSC02135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPTDZfCC7pht2WtUOPbY0g0bBThSmMxI_8CB9EFcmCNjGsJKBJlUBlv9g-MVRhtEeP16D-O5fFbfgFJ6bX3gVHGuXpLazGzS7Mr0seoHcGYUkI3a2nGKBREYH-CtGnwqCKibuSNPXoj_c/s400/DSC02135.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Line dancing at Wildhorse</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span>We left the bar sweaty and headed elsewhere to find refreshment. On our way we passed all kinds of people having all kinds of fun. After strolling around Broadway and 2<sup>nd</sup> Streets for a while, people watching and enjoying the pleasant night temperature, we landed at Second Fiddle where a country-ish cover band kept us dancing and happy fir the rest of the night.<span> </span></span></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span>Total mile count: 1,315 </span></span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-79434400220100221772011-05-31T10:51:00.000-04:002011-05-31T10:51:59.834-04:00Day Three: Durham, NC to Knoxville, TN<span>Woke up in a Days Inn and threw open the curtains to see a beautiful parking lot and a slightly dingy Waffle House. It was time to move. We headed west on I-40 through Winston-Salem, then took a scenic highway, 421, into the Pisgah National Forest. We drove through small towns, including Daniel Boone’s birthplace. We stopped to take a hike at Sugar Mountain, a <s>ski resort</s> small hill with a chairlift on it. We hiked about halfway up before the slight drizzle turned into a deluge. We ran down the mountain and back to the car. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7xVen_rvgCsNNrK-L4cUlKKqM-1o-TS_2a0yZ4PpST08vc80b4vYtbF4zYnWziyiVk6Ck5hsy41djkYKZFXygsfuU6FECkqcILeogY1erutBXZ3v-jwSkXVvJTIn6rx_SpJ_JOe2IcHW/s1600/DSC02073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7xVen_rvgCsNNrK-L4cUlKKqM-1o-TS_2a0yZ4PpST08vc80b4vYtbF4zYnWziyiVk6Ck5hsy41djkYKZFXygsfuU6FECkqcILeogY1erutBXZ3v-jwSkXVvJTIn6rx_SpJ_JOe2IcHW/s400/DSC02073.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><span> We continued driving through the national forest, passing caverns, antique stores, country farm stands, and a few dead animals. A sign for cider and pie triggered a sharp turn off the highway. We walked into the hidden gem of all roadside stores, Linville River Mercantile in Linville, NC. A couple greeted us and let us know what they had to offer; home baked pies, apple butter, and jam, they were even honored for homemade goods in North Carolina. After perusing the selections, we settled on a slice of banana cream cake. We ate at the small counter and chatted with the owner about his business and our trip. After getting our fill of sugary Southern hospitality we got back on the road, next stop: Asheville. </span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXUnxWuIE-H3WJkWC0rjtPZMvsGHBD_z_KVIyAZSRJhHg1Q_5m89fv5HGheW7EPZmFOXmSttbC3Bmt397hNDVdzREstocTe_qnmVBH7UMjl2WRQBe3Pu6dk5LdYblzTJRBzF7flPcqV9o/s1600/DSC02080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXUnxWuIE-H3WJkWC0rjtPZMvsGHBD_z_KVIyAZSRJhHg1Q_5m89fv5HGheW7EPZmFOXmSttbC3Bmt397hNDVdzREstocTe_qnmVBH7UMjl2WRQBe3Pu6dk5LdYblzTJRBzF7flPcqV9o/s400/DSC02080.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItrNxWIxvDe-HKg-bPRbXXLvYlaghM7oJR-lh77i4amganebcWwyDLD1sOcnmi3pjtdgnIE3RbOlc5O5mq3OmomNLl7wLV4-5s-KUu-wHhn7wnhDz1uHiW4dtrAV4xwWHaUMPdvVYpAhz/s1600/DSC02082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItrNxWIxvDe-HKg-bPRbXXLvYlaghM7oJR-lh77i4amganebcWwyDLD1sOcnmi3pjtdgnIE3RbOlc5O5mq3OmomNLl7wLV4-5s-KUu-wHhn7wnhDz1uHiW4dtrAV4xwWHaUMPdvVYpAhz/s400/DSC02082.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Asheville, NC is known as Beer City USA, it has won the award for the past two years, beating out Portland, my home town. The two are apparently competitors in the world of microbrews. I was not disheartened by the eagerness of people to point out Portland’s loss, the pervasive hometown pride was endearing. We popped into Bruisin’ Ales, a store selling over 800 types of beer. Our cooler wasn’t empty, but we couldn’t pass up this opportunity to try unique brews. When in Rome? We spent a good while in the small store reading labels and chatting with the guy manning the store. He gave us some great recommendations of local brews to add to our collection as well as a perfect spot for a dinner that would be on the healthier side, after our lunch of banana cake we were craving some nutrients. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span>We left the store with a custom six-pack of beers, a T-shirt for Joey and a map of downtown Asheville. For the next two hours, we walked the streets, hopped into stores, boutiques and strolled in the park. A collection of street drummers congregated in a plaza playing percussion that echoed down the street. They were closer in age to my grandpa than to me, and it was great to see then having such a good time entertaining the crowds, although the woman dancing to her own beat seemed entirely oblivious of the people watching her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>The Jack of the Woods Pub was a short walk from the drummers and we stepped inside to sample some of the local goods. I had a Craggie Antebellum from the Craggie Brewery in Asheville. Joey ordered the French Broad Brewing Gateway Kolsch, also from Asheville. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><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/AVvXsEizTuvPvjeyuq3wcY6lHyuluH5Yb_VFnmBHkkiqNQDuK3Eey14Wvt_DQBedV4ekv48woqG6iqFZqEHHgZV7FASfdtYVWukt-jLEvcVs1oNsDfPfKBiU6YoLgRnrZvXx-eEVKZ6jVs_b0geO/s1600/DSC02088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTuvPvjeyuq3wcY6lHyuluH5Yb_VFnmBHkkiqNQDuK3Eey14Wvt_DQBedV4ekv48woqG6iqFZqEHHgZV7FASfdtYVWukt-jLEvcVs1oNsDfPfKBiU6YoLgRnrZvXx-eEVKZ6jVs_b0geO/s400/DSC02088.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Craggie on the Left and the French Broad on the right</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJZAA1k9SBL6vegP2FnVlirFg-OKdNLpfUtfkn5OzOA3iEWJUXey2-Qw4tEE65R99UJWkag9Dmw4Yc6IlnONV2ia2LkIQlHXPtasoJoxH710NuHlQCPsXTM5vvj-y2e4_YtRPNLbJw6RC/s1600/DSC02089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJZAA1k9SBL6vegP2FnVlirFg-OKdNLpfUtfkn5OzOA3iEWJUXey2-Qw4tEE65R99UJWkag9Dmw4Yc6IlnONV2ia2LkIQlHXPtasoJoxH710NuHlQCPsXTM5vvj-y2e4_YtRPNLbJw6RC/s400/DSC02089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td class="tr-caption">Jack of the Wood</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span>The restaurant recommendation led us to the Laughing Seed, Revolutionary Vegetarian. Our meal was phenomenal and the perfect recommendation because we both admitted that we would not have chosen this restaurant on our own. For an appetizer we ordered the sweet potato dumplings; a mixture of sweet potato and spices in crispy wonton wrappers and topped with an Asian sesame sauce. We were starving, and the crunchy, soft combination of the dumplings hit the spot. I am a sucker for Asian dressings with sesame flavors. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyi8rPBNcbQxvK4RxK3lVqakDunvJS8teSTXPu_AsJuEFIgtBHU2mT0rjwBsPCB7H9Ek4gi0bhYBDuyxAndE_sY4o5Z3VI8xl4aLNsAgiPW2lom3mGdEmC40TbBhpXzKSgM4-uQWa8yW2/s1600/DSC02093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyi8rPBNcbQxvK4RxK3lVqakDunvJS8teSTXPu_AsJuEFIgtBHU2mT0rjwBsPCB7H9Ek4gi0bhYBDuyxAndE_sY4o5Z3VI8xl4aLNsAgiPW2lom3mGdEmC40TbBhpXzKSgM4-uQWa8yW2/s400/DSC02093.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span>For entrees we shared two dishes, the first an Asian salad with lettuce, veggies and wheat soba noodles in a peanut sauce. The second dish was one of the house specialties, the Indian plate. It came with lentil curry, and spiced mixture of veggies, including okra, brown rice, wheat naan, pickled vegetables and a spicy compote. I loved the infusion of southern flavors into the Indian dish. This was my first time eating okra and I loved it in it’s Indian clothing. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWm4afkERpUCd28IlH9XDVzgPOSHWdKdU4gMISholGjP_mK0Tsltnm778KfVumo6I6DaoD5yy6y6HXeJT-M9h9UvXf71Tksn_mkhFCOt4Y4Moecs7V94DksYd_nWW7AVhpeq25ZgqEEiqh/s1600/DSC02094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWm4afkERpUCd28IlH9XDVzgPOSHWdKdU4gMISholGjP_mK0Tsltnm778KfVumo6I6DaoD5yy6y6HXeJT-M9h9UvXf71Tksn_mkhFCOt4Y4Moecs7V94DksYd_nWW7AVhpeq25ZgqEEiqh/s400/DSC02094.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThpJwWug4_I8uVgCyHqHn23VUHjZGMBrJ9CBcOkdI27ho9w27mBFEZ6qVw4LwLtdCQJgkko5Ly1X572dpQAKhBOLctXDKrQpvS0hmYQjgVRLGbnpjgBuuzvYbr-fUFVQMGOX7aBkEFCr7/s1600/DSC02095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThpJwWug4_I8uVgCyHqHn23VUHjZGMBrJ9CBcOkdI27ho9w27mBFEZ6qVw4LwLtdCQJgkko5Ly1X572dpQAKhBOLctXDKrQpvS0hmYQjgVRLGbnpjgBuuzvYbr-fUFVQMGOX7aBkEFCr7/s400/DSC02095.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span>The meal left us perfectly satisfied and happy that we experienced some cool offerings of Asheville. This town surprised me, I was not expecting to find this enclave of hippie culture in Southwest North Carolina. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>After dinner we moseyed back to the car and drove for a few more hours, ending up at Knoxville for the night. We crossed the 1000 mile mark at 8:24 pm, a big moment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Total mile count: 1,109</span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-63539206463145832922011-05-28T19:52:00.000-04:002011-05-28T19:52:27.423-04:00Atlantic to Pacific Road Trip Begins<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FfIQ9TE6NNdmBMFL8VRtHkBFeNQiQ5VzLn_5j315JfwarCC45_GGYhCjKBKli8vNN1GzxBdQIei5wgt6mlM73GRo9oTh0FC6jeWA1hH55hzxrtKjJuh8vC3Vqfaa3ZipsUrztW6_8cgF/s1600/DSC02002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FfIQ9TE6NNdmBMFL8VRtHkBFeNQiQ5VzLn_5j315JfwarCC45_GGYhCjKBKli8vNN1GzxBdQIei5wgt6mlM73GRo9oTh0FC6jeWA1hH55hzxrtKjJuh8vC3Vqfaa3ZipsUrztW6_8cgF/s400/DSC02002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Graduation is over, there are no caps to throw, toasts to make, classes to take, or essays to write. My job is lingering out in the distance, it’s an elusive little devil, sometimes coming into view for a minute then disappearing into fuzzy static. So for the time being all I can do is go home to Portland, Oregon, by way of the South. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Joey, my boyfriend and mysterious background to many pictures on this blog, is my travel companion. We were armed and dangerous with a GPS, a bucket full of snacks, some Sherlock Holmes books on tape, and a case of Red Bulls. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>The agenda for <b>day one</b></span><span> was pretty simple: drive as far south on I-95 as possible. We made it from Cambridge, MA to Alexandria, VA. Somehow we passed through seven states on our way down, (Massachusetts, Connecticut, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Maryland, Virginia,) starting our cross country trip out right. </span></div><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/AVvXsEi5FQFvtFp7aFFU_qQ5_ULMRBU7UFIzI53hctNKFJRl1m2g9JKwP9wgxICWKAkyhfK5bUnIq5-Gwv2rQKsSLHOYAJhC4Usn2OtfF1F4Zf1DeKZx3lcfJSft7QP3ecsBnydA_P3DoqxlKbgg/s1600/DSC02023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FQFvtFp7aFFU_qQ5_ULMRBU7UFIzI53hctNKFJRl1m2g9JKwP9wgxICWKAkyhfK5bUnIq5-Gwv2rQKsSLHOYAJhC4Usn2OtfF1F4Zf1DeKZx3lcfJSft7QP3ecsBnydA_P3DoqxlKbgg/s400/DSC02023.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gardens at Chatham Plantation</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_8JVaGky24N3ek8HO3C9097P435Q8qJxkNhBPUW286UuLwdLaq1gwZgf1MtwBr-gmUm8k610Be6zliRYUDeWVMgQ_O4K6h6O7ndMcFfcPpmHunHA59EUDThLo-LW-qxojWKLCP18VCdC/s1600/DSC02019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_8JVaGky24N3ek8HO3C9097P435Q8qJxkNhBPUW286UuLwdLaq1gwZgf1MtwBr-gmUm8k610Be6zliRYUDeWVMgQ_O4K6h6O7ndMcFfcPpmHunHA59EUDThLo-LW-qxojWKLCP18VCdC/s400/DSC02019.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span><b>Day two</b></span><span> we began the day by walking through Alexandria to a breakfast place recommended by our motel manager, Extra Perks. We walked through the humidity, to iced coffees and breakfast sandwiches. The streets of Alexandria seemed like Pleasantville, pristine and almost fake looking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>We drove south to Fredericksburg to check out some Civil War history. We walked around the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. Our walk was short around the battlefield, yet somehow we were sweating bullets. The 100 degree heat and humidity was wearing. We went to Chatham Estate, the only house visited by both George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. It was an old plantation and had some great history as a crucial spot for medical services during the war. We got our first dose of Southern friendliness, the man at the Estate would have talked and joked with us all morning if we had let him. After wandering around the grounds and accumulating another respectable layer of sweat, we drove into the historic downtown Fredericksburg. There were many cute shops, restaurants, murals, Civil War memorabilia shops, and about 900 hair salons. Joey felt it appropriate to get a haircut. The heat drove us to choose lunch at a frozen yogurt shop. We visited a wine shop and picked up a few locally brewed beers to enjoy later on our journey. </span></div><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/AVvXsEhLoQTDKaGb9BhBXnbBXYME53JCJYawogTWoctLtRt1wS7Hx1RJCrXdXtSymNM48XC5ysLFeWhAy13Bz4_nGM3iH_k0QVfX-Mb-qhqEGJkLavDVywwUK5VLglOlSeof5KH5LD-RuyqZGI-7/s1600/DSC02034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoQTDKaGb9BhBXnbBXYME53JCJYawogTWoctLtRt1wS7Hx1RJCrXdXtSymNM48XC5ysLFeWhAy13Bz4_nGM3iH_k0QVfX-Mb-qhqEGJkLavDVywwUK5VLglOlSeof5KH5LD-RuyqZGI-7/s400/DSC02034.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PLXxS3upPKRSkGmLszjqSWzptgFYg_Mwhokp8LJHvuUUwXo7lnOMRZWcaW4zi6Xr6W3BCGcrKZiP1s0XYezRMwEWWXvtCpTT-8qH0xpJfvkhiyF0x2satuIAPirjYmaf31CflXZ5xn1S/s1600/DSC02033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PLXxS3upPKRSkGmLszjqSWzptgFYg_Mwhokp8LJHvuUUwXo7lnOMRZWcaW4zi6Xr6W3BCGcrKZiP1s0XYezRMwEWWXvtCpTT-8qH0xpJfvkhiyF0x2satuIAPirjYmaf31CflXZ5xn1S/s320/DSC02033.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute streets of Fredericksburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span> We left Fredericksburg and continued south. We made it to Durham, NC in the evening and drove straight to the Sarah P. Duke gardens on the Duke campus. The gardens are famous and beautifully maintained. Pathways wind through areas of grassy hills, stone plazas, ponds, flower beds, and forest. We strolled around, enjoying the comfortable evening warmth, then parked on a bench above the pond and had a beer picnic. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6LFoywPizZXwlasMH4ocIQ635vi2Vs64lISb9GKnuO8Sfxg_Q1RruPt04ekUCiDp7aGosbb1EAk_7VUi0F1x1yVUvHXdAm2bji_iyiU9XgCchwP1limGznmP9Nj25LT8oDHrMx6M9ZQ5/s1600/DSC02050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6LFoywPizZXwlasMH4ocIQ635vi2Vs64lISb9GKnuO8Sfxg_Q1RruPt04ekUCiDp7aGosbb1EAk_7VUi0F1x1yVUvHXdAm2bji_iyiU9XgCchwP1limGznmP9Nj25LT8oDHrMx6M9ZQ5/s400/DSC02050.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><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/AVvXsEgAmtHgJ1Mg5zibuWEB55GSZUMld4L2qZoyG4TfmxcWpRPmtJ5goNgvEntD2ZrcDE7SBbzHFCplggBb4kd3ETvLsAwfDiEBhudfSWRzHcYaI8EMfcTYOewC2t0PG_RAfAf8GypkRGBXWz1S/s1600/DSC02054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmtHgJ1Mg5zibuWEB55GSZUMld4L2qZoyG4TfmxcWpRPmtJ5goNgvEntD2ZrcDE7SBbzHFCplggBb4kd3ETvLsAwfDiEBhudfSWRzHcYaI8EMfcTYOewC2t0PG_RAfAf8GypkRGBXWz1S/s400/DSC02054.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pond at the gardens. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2Z_zdceZm8OEQtic8PwOFKjGYYFvyHh1_EKLk55WzU-fXFdNMsPU4j73cf0e1HPwXLDuTyzkbTnzI-iJp16R_q_rlWFcpXGVKtBH_-M3Z8flT4y8pvj4-8vvsB1tS6eI3acJc2C0jD2_/s1600/DSC02055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2Z_zdceZm8OEQtic8PwOFKjGYYFvyHh1_EKLk55WzU-fXFdNMsPU4j73cf0e1HPwXLDuTyzkbTnzI-iJp16R_q_rlWFcpXGVKtBH_-M3Z8flT4y8pvj4-8vvsB1tS6eI3acJc2C0jD2_/s400/DSC02055.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never go for a half nelson when you can go for a full nelson.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwM1R3rmtEQIl0p6yL7xd3Ap4qUaj-0nbydkAVV2ZRgmOxouQBr3qNyFD1rcXvCht7NT-9PYtnROkrxvNvmHWI6vIjurUUDwAhvsWOG4wkLpXAmghxX9G8uudZyLzKjw8uO3X_ePzPPx3/s1600/DSC02056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwM1R3rmtEQIl0p6yL7xd3Ap4qUaj-0nbydkAVV2ZRgmOxouQBr3qNyFD1rcXvCht7NT-9PYtnROkrxvNvmHWI6vIjurUUDwAhvsWOG4wkLpXAmghxX9G8uudZyLzKjw8uO3X_ePzPPx3/s400/DSC02056.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leftover beers from grad party, thanks dad!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span>After a long day out in the heat, it felt so great to savor some brews in the fresh air. First was a Full Nelson Virginia Pale Ale from the Blue Mountain Brewing in Afton, Virginia. It was richer than an average pale ale and had some spicy undertones. The second was a Hop Devil IPA from Victory Brewing. This was an IPA that had "serious drinkability", according to Joey, meaning that it wasn't so heavy that you can only stomach one. We stayed there until hunger was clawing its way to the surface. We squelched that uprising by driving immediately to a Waffle House close by. My dad informed me that the Waffle House chain is an institution of the South and a must-visit on our trip. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWKcVo8gHp1xMNKY8iLXgfK2Q1AydgWSpQQsDwt2KnriQ3-NeI9v_dbRY1ArJAMXQgDuGmXPLf3LQz1WjMl3m8kcxWWZPfAK1ZC_5xf48RRpRi709pGcyvU9qsu3bNEn48Hx4zbn6FU64/s1600/DSC02066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWKcVo8gHp1xMNKY8iLXgfK2Q1AydgWSpQQsDwt2KnriQ3-NeI9v_dbRY1ArJAMXQgDuGmXPLf3LQz1WjMl3m8kcxWWZPfAK1ZC_5xf48RRpRi709pGcyvU9qsu3bNEn48Hx4zbn6FU64/s400/DSC02066.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Two waffles, and one plate of grits and eggs later, we were full and happy and grateful to my dad for the recommendation. In the process we got the life story of the man making our food and were greeted with impressive hospitality by the three members of the Waffle House staff. I love the South. </span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-14415190984123791872011-05-24T09:26:00.000-04:002011-05-24T09:26:05.607-04:00Clink at the Liberty Hotel and a DiplomaMy whirlwind week is over. I have not showered since Sunday and I have nothing on the agenda besides seeing my roommates before I move out of my house. This past weekend was jam packed full of events, family, friends, food, and drinks. I now have a diploma with my name on it in a fancy folder, funny that this small piece of paper is what I came to this place four years ago to get. Now I have it. Now what do I do?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDAv6V56HcbW-pjVhpbhcQqPKdzG9N7MXNt1qA4_6zW5D4vh8H418TxLTnkALRjY8lZaKjltHlP78nAOAy48LXs2D-AMix78CMK-FBxlkxUKRGJwrCMsfQS-GfyrsIDvQtgWT3yovXZWC/s1600/DSC01966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDAv6V56HcbW-pjVhpbhcQqPKdzG9N7MXNt1qA4_6zW5D4vh8H418TxLTnkALRjY8lZaKjltHlP78nAOAy48LXs2D-AMix78CMK-FBxlkxUKRGJwrCMsfQS-GfyrsIDvQtgWT3yovXZWC/s400/DSC01966.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> The weekend was amazing, but one high-light was dinner with my family, grandpa, and family friend and brother Spencer's college roommate, Sam. We went to Clink at the Liberty Hotel in Beacon Hill. The Liberty is a renovated jail, and was open for business until the 1990s. Now it is a trendy hotel with bars and restaurants, all with prison-related names; Clink, Alibi, The Yard, The Cat Walk.<br />
We came early to our reservation and hung out in the bar area of the lobby, admiring the old brick insides, and feeling a bit creeped out that these walls held prisoners not that long ago. We had a couple drinks then moved inside to our table.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQyvEqxm5hr5xKsVEwI0Xfsvjq4wgpbdPiKfNT0-YV_snswNmDBT-k7WMyfjMJDp0EtQj0FfJaZtD3ue1I83LQvlTjaM4ySDXX_IyugJWbxuffEr9Ggdrp1OTCnmx757iuKdTw5vBxJDE/s1600/DSC01967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQyvEqxm5hr5xKsVEwI0Xfsvjq4wgpbdPiKfNT0-YV_snswNmDBT-k7WMyfjMJDp0EtQj0FfJaZtD3ue1I83LQvlTjaM4ySDXX_IyugJWbxuffEr9Ggdrp1OTCnmx757iuKdTw5vBxJDE/s400/DSC01967.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkpuit5sgJzsfUTGlQ7eoePJxBCOuprAMLVHgQr9nmXgxk4JCf6I7GFnfCFJn_JyfEBn_I5BdWVHqXxlh0QS-5xC7dFgkHBHI3g_aACUwvxguK-rJ5VxvGZQmkVebNWAs_bP7vr6ifC8W/s1600/DSC01968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkpuit5sgJzsfUTGlQ7eoePJxBCOuprAMLVHgQr9nmXgxk4JCf6I7GFnfCFJn_JyfEBn_I5BdWVHqXxlh0QS-5xC7dFgkHBHI3g_aACUwvxguK-rJ5VxvGZQmkVebNWAs_bP7vr6ifC8W/s400/DSC01968.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> For starters we ordered a cheese plate, with four different types chosen by my sister, Isa, the family's resident cheese connoisseur. Each cheese came with a paired garnish such as sugared nuts, fruit compote, or honeycomb. We ate these with bread, plain and cinnamon raisin. We also ordered oysters from the raw bar. Homemade cocktail sauces, lemon, and Tabasco gave these some serious zing.<br />
Before we even had a chance to order wine, a waitress came by giving samples of cocktails from their menu, of course we opted in. Spencer and I tried the Hot Mess, something akin to a dirty martini with a pickle floating around in it. My mom and Sam choose the Evolve, something more fruity with acai berry.<br />
Holla for free samples!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7JNYcg1ce8MKrRkZDYeS6vMeZEvhdd3vjMbVqmgI28jvgLZHW-8SthmYxVLWbxDyJP5TKuxivHBDUrpwCSfhwk94ZPWDfsztPMJdu1jT2iDGKIenGVHCCyDaHHLdF1jrsmD4tBixVuw-/s1600/DSC01969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7JNYcg1ce8MKrRkZDYeS6vMeZEvhdd3vjMbVqmgI28jvgLZHW-8SthmYxVLWbxDyJP5TKuxivHBDUrpwCSfhwk94ZPWDfsztPMJdu1jT2iDGKIenGVHCCyDaHHLdF1jrsmD4tBixVuw-/s400/DSC01969.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4qJTFdbmCegknSMyIfb5ncmn97Uaeuw17oE08A5nSloyov21XGhJVzCxDkcG-93w5J6GHHIsH2_cwMtoqTS4SzdBDxwrTzu01HEWtskkiglFJhij9tZxrc35x7xkJkDQuZTheiy10Vmx/s1600/DSC01970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4qJTFdbmCegknSMyIfb5ncmn97Uaeuw17oE08A5nSloyov21XGhJVzCxDkcG-93w5J6GHHIsH2_cwMtoqTS4SzdBDxwrTzu01HEWtskkiglFJhij9tZxrc35x7xkJkDQuZTheiy10Vmx/s400/DSC01970.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> For salad, several ordered the burrata and beet salad with arugula. This dinner was turning into a cheese extravaganza, but there was just really nothing to be done about it. Burrata is a special cheese like a very fresh mozzerella with a firmer outside and a soft inside. Eaten with nuts, arugula, and red and yellow beets, it was heaven.<br />
For my entree, I ordered the scallops in an appetizer portion, considering there had already been about four courses to this meal. The came with a sauteed butternut squash, fennel, and smoked salmon. The combination of flavors was perfect. The complexity of the squash, fennel and salmon mixture gave notes of smoke, spice and sweet, while the scallops were left plain and simple on top.<br />
Spencer ordered the special leg of lamb dish while Isa went with the Salmon. No one was disappointed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGx3L67YMSwN8jslXVjNDwb99DHthMdvQaB_0Q2eLQ13FW4g3fQSRegP4x3NK0YoJLTPaiV1Jv4Xa5YofDulWTe9CSvS4y8MxKmEbfMqGfNoUUjK-4_d8AhUOKwzqzl-T_n9USQBI5bZn/s1600/DSC01976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGx3L67YMSwN8jslXVjNDwb99DHthMdvQaB_0Q2eLQ13FW4g3fQSRegP4x3NK0YoJLTPaiV1Jv4Xa5YofDulWTe9CSvS4y8MxKmEbfMqGfNoUUjK-4_d8AhUOKwzqzl-T_n9USQBI5bZn/s400/DSC01976.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPwOWjawMKjXMsAW7EXi15p_euaJw1uc8w5WqDcvdbu1gZhaqaIR18jVrNBrWgpevtcXrSCS4kaMbHA5LvkXaRMTailUyzGuHZ3XnaxV9w13ePin9WVhXUQlsQD5RoysD9WCo6deOcDqA/s1600/DSC01972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPwOWjawMKjXMsAW7EXi15p_euaJw1uc8w5WqDcvdbu1gZhaqaIR18jVrNBrWgpevtcXrSCS4kaMbHA5LvkXaRMTailUyzGuHZ3XnaxV9w13ePin9WVhXUQlsQD5RoysD9WCo6deOcDqA/s400/DSC01972.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNr534llGz0ZYvhFwjdRCRd7UUc50U3D8YJpZdFPv5XGkO1v6QyCmq9YSHxw1kt8KN4ULUsmWb1OeJRlRV78UssKLJo-CnHZnaqKoPohoem9UruGCxxFabc50NTvVEKYtqXxcPwuxB0xE8/s1600/DSC01978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNr534llGz0ZYvhFwjdRCRd7UUc50U3D8YJpZdFPv5XGkO1v6QyCmq9YSHxw1kt8KN4ULUsmWb1OeJRlRV78UssKLJo-CnHZnaqKoPohoem9UruGCxxFabc50NTvVEKYtqXxcPwuxB0xE8/s400/DSC01978.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Since it was a celebration, (all about me, don't forget it!) we had to order a couple of desserts. The apple and rhubarb cobbler with vanilla ice cream and the chocolate tart. These were great choices because everyone at the table got to try bites of rich, decadent chocolate and fresh fruit and cream without feeling stuffed to the gills.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxhDk42GWWvPqYT-ir62t6IPUojuNsvIHU_wBhG2woUIrh9GIncTrsRQqhwSiFAfFlat4USd-9Ne8CR0SfuicipzlQwXE0eWypPK5MUuc1XF_XAoIe1-hkgHo-6HBcypJaUtq3mQriuNV/s1600/DSC01980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxhDk42GWWvPqYT-ir62t6IPUojuNsvIHU_wBhG2woUIrh9GIncTrsRQqhwSiFAfFlat4USd-9Ne8CR0SfuicipzlQwXE0eWypPK5MUuc1XF_XAoIe1-hkgHo-6HBcypJaUtq3mQriuNV/s400/DSC01980.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEKq1sX7OXTJ-Ppt5M9nkispaEzK2ldp3dtWVYZ8Eaz2dFyeJw7CVV9xWUA_UNyAKWwL53n64DXapGZZNcu_cHmDQJrNjq14OIe10KCcmE4boriYqcxdGdBt276DSeBONTC4qBGaujO9KQ/s1600/DSC01981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEKq1sX7OXTJ-Ppt5M9nkispaEzK2ldp3dtWVYZ8Eaz2dFyeJw7CVV9xWUA_UNyAKWwL53n64DXapGZZNcu_cHmDQJrNjq14OIe10KCcmE4boriYqcxdGdBt276DSeBONTC4qBGaujO9KQ/s400/DSC01981.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We lingered over coffees, cappuccinos, and the last bites of the chocolate tart. We rested our stomachs and thought about the day ahead, packed full of speeches, and clapping, and pomp and circumstance. Clink was the perfect place to stop, relax, take a minute to just enjoy each other amongst the brouhaha. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.libertyhotel.com/clink/">Clink</a><br />
215 Charles Street<br />
Boston, MAAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-40552171700908087112011-05-19T09:07:00.000-04:002011-05-19T09:07:42.141-04:00Spicy Tomato Soup with Black BeansIn one week I will be moving out of my college house. This should be a good thing, this house is horrible. Let me list the reasons.<br />
The dining room is unpainted and has awful splotches of spackle adorning the walls.<br />
My kitchen cabinet is slowly falling off the wall and one day while I'm reaching for my rice cakes it's going to fall off and knock me out and then I'll have to tell everyone that I got concussion from a cabinet.<br />
The radiators sounds like a train coming into the station and smell like old people.<br />
My landlord and his friends "do construction" to "improve" the basement practically every weekend. I never knew home improvement smelled so much like marijuana...<br />
There are so many reasons why I should be thankful that I'm getting the heck out. But I am not. This house is crappy, and dangerous, and impossible to keep clean, but I am dreading the day when I have to drive away.<br />
Our leather couches with a sometimes questionable stickiness to them are the perfect size for me and my two roommates to curl up with our dinners and watch How I Met Your Mother and Cupcake Wars. My dining room table and odd assortment of chairs is the best place for us to <strike>study</strike> watch youtube videos and talk and laugh without the silence and stigma of the library.<br />
My kitchen is tiny but somehow we always end up there, chatting until we have to go to bed, and tiny suddenly seems like perfectly cozy.<br />
Our paper thin walls just make it easier for us to yell to each other when we don't want to get out of bed. Privacy is overrated.<br />
I am not ready to go. Next week will come, and I will have to face the music. In the spirit of moving, and cleaning out my pantry, I decided to whip up a steaming hot bowl of <strike>regret</strike> soup, using as many ingredients as I had on hand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPZ7io5xRaiLdFugVIBIvzPNe110UpVcxVGP0ZqVvfMqOoI_NyBco6cX7b9Mp2aDj_R4yvEzCkbvmiHxY_fZapWsir_7jo9S7O7kqT5hLlRPlFai8a4FinQaKPyhPlDgN9bAtpGJjYfK2/s1600/DSC01943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPZ7io5xRaiLdFugVIBIvzPNe110UpVcxVGP0ZqVvfMqOoI_NyBco6cX7b9Mp2aDj_R4yvEzCkbvmiHxY_fZapWsir_7jo9S7O7kqT5hLlRPlFai8a4FinQaKPyhPlDgN9bAtpGJjYfK2/s400/DSC01943.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Spicy Tomato Soup with Black Beans</b></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 large can crushed tomatoes</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 small can green chilies</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 cups chicken broth</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 teaspoon cumin</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/2 teaspoon paprika</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/2 teaspoon sea salt (I used unsalted tomatoes and low sodium broth so I needed this, but you may not depending on ingredients used.)</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 cup black beans</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Heat tomatoes and broth over low heat. Stir in chilies and spices. Once hot, pour into two bowls and add 1/2 cup of beans to each bowl. </span>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-48208817567231828032011-05-17T12:41:00.000-04:002011-05-17T12:41:19.699-04:00Playing Outside: Walden Pond, and Going Veggie at Clover Food Lab<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzKXt-CL-PO9LZQRrJtiRyzldfNmmQdkiARLythgAwNxIqAtR2R8bFqgW3S198DUi2stnji4Dcd_E7htLcMzkPyRdQoJNq44zdyPuQkS4tXj9oVM_1tjyDphjLq9bxVKaY5HUb21TNwPK/s1600/DSC01874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzKXt-CL-PO9LZQRrJtiRyzldfNmmQdkiARLythgAwNxIqAtR2R8bFqgW3S198DUi2stnji4Dcd_E7htLcMzkPyRdQoJNq44zdyPuQkS4tXj9oVM_1tjyDphjLq9bxVKaY5HUb21TNwPK/s400/DSC01874.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Last Friday the weather cooperated and gave Geneva and I the chance to head out and make a day of it. With no longer any good reason to go to the library, we drove out Route 2 to Walden Pond. I had never been and this was the perfect opportunity. <br />
We took the path around the pond and only saw a few other people on our way, a handful of walkers and a couple fishermen.<br />
The sandy beach area was nearly empty, I would imagine the water was quite cold, but Geneva said that in the summer it is full of children.<br />
After a relaxing flat "hike" around the pond, we decided it was time for lunch. On Geneva's recommendation, we took the T to Harvard to check out a new vegetarian spot called Clover Food Lab. Upon arrival I knew this was unlike most other dining establishments; there was no counter, simply two large menus on easels and staff members with iphones ready to take our order. The space was large and open with two floors and a high lofted ceiling. The kitchen area was open and people people were furiously preparing food behind a short wall. Apparently Clover was a food truck before they became grounded with an address. They traveled around trying out new recipes to figure out what worked and what didn't. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidc7DXYmnz5rv5F_X9glG_Pac_00EOUKu0DRIwIs3IdfHHiu9L3qAHe8DmCUdBLEcv89iWMOfGvVm4uLnDXYE8AjVRImVlY-LTYMRFO-G8Ekgw6FZAZdcehef_06xPa2Jl9egvo7aRe-p1/s1600/DSC01877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidc7DXYmnz5rv5F_X9glG_Pac_00EOUKu0DRIwIs3IdfHHiu9L3qAHe8DmCUdBLEcv89iWMOfGvVm4uLnDXYE8AjVRImVlY-LTYMRFO-G8Ekgw6FZAZdcehef_06xPa2Jl9egvo7aRe-p1/s400/DSC01877.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The menu was grouped into categories and by price. We ordered off of the 'Lunch $5' section. Next to each item the time is listed so customers can know how long their order will take. This could be extra efficient on a ten minute lunch break. Luckily, we had more time to spend, so we could walk around and look at the pots of fresh herbs on the tables and the parchment paper table cloths with crayons for diners to enjoy while eating.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokxwXYFr0mwAD7leCmnLSwV_DimRgaDZmDLK3FZjy9mW86xmHn8t4XBnX52FmO8Z9Tit84ZQ14-Stz7XuY1QsWMMSerGEfN5yK9jwxj2YMOVjXHWVQ6w3CmYuVA_Ljae8yPLFV65vs0AF/s1600/DSC01876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokxwXYFr0mwAD7leCmnLSwV_DimRgaDZmDLK3FZjy9mW86xmHn8t4XBnX52FmO8Z9Tit84ZQ14-Stz7XuY1QsWMMSerGEfN5yK9jwxj2YMOVjXHWVQ6w3CmYuVA_Ljae8yPLFV65vs0AF/s400/DSC01876.JPG" width="300" /></a></div> Geneva ordered the soy BLT, with soy bacon, tomato, lettuce, and mayo on a whole wheat pita. Hers was delicious; the soy bacon kept the integrity of the hearty, salty B in the BLT. I was definitely surprised by how good it was.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcZZAA20zHkwDDS0Q_U-Jkxih2fC0AxQtqhFYV9g345rE_3A1cSoGTc5IweQEtGaJdNJA4VKN0FQt2h0KqfLdLanKoVqXoUL3oE7IhxUN6Lkt5_RHd06zR9Ett-U1fcbQPIY5CCql3Uh6/s1600/DSC01880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcZZAA20zHkwDDS0Q_U-Jkxih2fC0AxQtqhFYV9g345rE_3A1cSoGTc5IweQEtGaJdNJA4VKN0FQt2h0KqfLdLanKoVqXoUL3oE7IhxUN6Lkt5_RHd06zR9Ett-U1fcbQPIY5CCql3Uh6/s400/DSC01880.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> I ordered the egg and eggplant, with hard-boiled eggs, grilled eggplant, cucumber salad, tomatoes, hummus, and yogurt dressing on a whole wheat pita. It was incredible. The eggs and eggplant gave the sandwich some heft, while the cucumber salad added a fresh crunch. The yogurt sauce was the element that tied it all together, making this vegetarian sandwich seem like a mediterranean specialty.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKc9lpAXEaTUgxhDa42Gn9QIGkKr0Aq5Sm6fm0k3iIgsZgI5EcBphhNYR0aocOl8L_msHr1L_qyySREMdJiciCY1AqDnmjnznsieQyvDL8spwfUk3nZncmdhAlVJlbjt140QO3CEDYAyer/s1600/DSC01882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKc9lpAXEaTUgxhDa42Gn9QIGkKr0Aq5Sm6fm0k3iIgsZgI5EcBphhNYR0aocOl8L_msHr1L_qyySREMdJiciCY1AqDnmjnznsieQyvDL8spwfUk3nZncmdhAlVJlbjt140QO3CEDYAyer/s400/DSC01882.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>I would return to Clover Food Lab anytime, or everyday if worked nearby.<br />
Low prices, healthy, fresh food, fun atmosphere, fast service; definitely a place where you leave feeling great about what you just ate. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cloverfoodlab.com/">Clover Food Lab</a><br />
7 Holyoke Street<br />
Harvard Square, CambridgeAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-7007796754234299232011-05-15T08:36:00.000-04:002011-05-15T08:36:57.103-04:00Bur-running in Somerville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFnP1Kbu5EAKnMisvTiWppT_QfB1qRzXXm-4fnCz1qkJXQT8w-LZm2gPUFIA0CFR9rgR8An2LhfUCf6zBXe9sB2eU4PYVY9ax-cWtvUlnyn3PM1OV1nAQUZJwGV2iUqXAzYQrG6dTSEDn/s1600/DSC01807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFnP1Kbu5EAKnMisvTiWppT_QfB1qRzXXm-4fnCz1qkJXQT8w-LZm2gPUFIA0CFR9rgR8An2LhfUCf6zBXe9sB2eU4PYVY9ax-cWtvUlnyn3PM1OV1nAQUZJwGV2iUqXAzYQrG6dTSEDn/s400/DSC01807.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Every Monday at 6:45 the <a href="http://www.srr.org/events/bur_run/index.php">Somerville Road Runners</a> has an event at the Burren in Davis Square. The event is a casual 5k fun-run that starts and ends and the Burren. The bar provides a back room for storage for bags and sweats and free food and water for all participants after the run.<br />
How did I now know about this until now? My friend Sarah suggested that we try it out, and the first night that it worked out happened to be our last day of college classes, FOREVER. Sarah, Carrie, Kelly and I walked into the Burren with the intention to exercise. We may be familiar with the 90s cover band that plays at the Burren on Thursday nights, but never have we ever been there so early with the intention of burning calories doing something other than dancing.<br />
Yes we are graduating, and yes we chose to celebrate the end of lectures and blue books with a 5k followed by Guiness beef stew and beers.<br />
From top to bottom I would say it was a great choice.<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/AVvXsEieOhldDM2w8QS0ulBhZZmF5krpKPHu_zTu3HcKr0d55icP-yf4LPdjG_vnpqOhhv9G12aixDlFI8xmcErQ8ljQUvRVRY4k_h9wOynKF9cqCR1cxujVRvax7ctxd0ZEH9_8FUzH2pyABnxc/s1600/DSC01805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOhldDM2w8QS0ulBhZZmF5krpKPHu_zTu3HcKr0d55icP-yf4LPdjG_vnpqOhhv9G12aixDlFI8xmcErQ8ljQUvRVRY4k_h9wOynKF9cqCR1cxujVRvax7ctxd0ZEH9_8FUzH2pyABnxc/s400/DSC01805.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bar full of thirsty runners!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The running group was welcoming to all new participants and the atmosphere was fun and casual. It was a perfect night for taking a loop around the neighborhood. Running with a group helped motivate us to keep on keepin' on, but the four of us ran at a nice pace that allowed us to talk and not sound like we were drowning.<br />
Afterwards we grabbed our sweats and headed immediately to the bar. Beers tasted great while we were sweaty and tired. The Burren had hot-pots full of veggie pasta and beer braised stew that provided just the post work-out salt kick that I needed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizymx9o_oiXLdBvcM7HP0cF9gCO1U3TP7ek5FCo8NwubIlhQywbXwxggFJkpal-OLwcPaYxBRowmPlFci7pSLskBN1-N1PA-egIhmcLFT4AEyhoBmjOgjcCzWO9TXwktJkTAVBGGIf5ijO/s1600/DSC01806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizymx9o_oiXLdBvcM7HP0cF9gCO1U3TP7ek5FCo8NwubIlhQywbXwxggFJkpal-OLwcPaYxBRowmPlFci7pSLskBN1-N1PA-egIhmcLFT4AEyhoBmjOgjcCzWO9TXwktJkTAVBGGIf5ijO/s400/DSC01806.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> I liked the Bur-run so much that I returned the next week with Bailey. Another beautiful spring night for jogging. This time we didn't linger long because the Celtics were on and we wanted to make it home by half-time.<br />
I whole-heartedly recommend the Somerville Road Runners event for any level of runner who wants to try running with a group. Bring a friend or go solo and you will have a great time.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.burren.com/">The Burren</a><br />
247 Elm Street<br />
Davis Square<br />
SomervilleAudrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-72871973330242357022011-05-12T10:30:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:39:26.163-04:00Homemade BagelsOh hello little misshapen rings of dough. You may not be the perfect shape but to me, you are perfect. I can see the bagel potential just oozing out of your precious whole wheat pores.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmrypsWrj6tBtsZkSoiWGJ15MGHdPZDFU8Twa0qSPydmNROBhVXgLskoaDsS0ns31CNidA1NMhjC9z74K0QH_1zhbSaY6eSXNLx3x5dsoDlb_hVouM15CjVZaXSjyZbmmLZ7LjK7cY8Mx/s1600/DSC01821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmrypsWrj6tBtsZkSoiWGJ15MGHdPZDFU8Twa0qSPydmNROBhVXgLskoaDsS0ns31CNidA1NMhjC9z74K0QH_1zhbSaY6eSXNLx3x5dsoDlb_hVouM15CjVZaXSjyZbmmLZ7LjK7cY8Mx/s400/DSC01821.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> And there you are just boiling away. In my pot. Who would have thought this day would come when your dough was risen, and rested, and rested again? Who thought I would have had the patience to leave you under that dishcloth for so long? Yet here you are, bubbling away on your way to bagely glory.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSmf-mJHr-6wlawaZHGFYrjb4Brs-QU-3WqNST-U-zWGayo6ekVTnHA_hh3I-ZbDIoEpyslUozttcV88Xo7NCa9wBukgLbD5zrzXOdWKje9GVdzxpGl_MRHwf8PpRimIkLeBO6MbwAGNP/s1600/DSC01822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSmf-mJHr-6wlawaZHGFYrjb4Brs-QU-3WqNST-U-zWGayo6ekVTnHA_hh3I-ZbDIoEpyslUozttcV88Xo7NCa9wBukgLbD5zrzXOdWKje9GVdzxpGl_MRHwf8PpRimIkLeBO6MbwAGNP/s400/DSC01822.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Now, now, look who is all dressed up for the occasion! Look at you all covered in your finest Sunday pepper-jack cheese. Or you over there with your sweet outfit of cinnamon sugar. And you, you saucy little thing in your garlic, I see you playing hard to get.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizun8C_bCec9LNtUL-J9qNnlonKQYeS1iehOHagUSX954Kfyx99Nw8bq6k3OKh7_jsKH-qdARORYRQtkEoeMwjcqPTqgqlwDDwWRhH-7b13awTSmrw9LfklNVhzX9Mx9taKjEFANAbWBiA/s1600/DSC01823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizun8C_bCec9LNtUL-J9qNnlonKQYeS1iehOHagUSX954Kfyx99Nw8bq6k3OKh7_jsKH-qdARORYRQtkEoeMwjcqPTqgqlwDDwWRhH-7b13awTSmrw9LfklNVhzX9Mx9taKjEFANAbWBiA/s400/DSC01823.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuXKyYqecz8yWFQnAC9E3nd3_LdlLbo-Q3d-BOUlequNDHJWP-Ck94Z988owpEMEDstHyJN15sjLFASpUaf9PsH3qY2Sc-igYB0lHpwgieNEOJ5nZNI3TISA8yyaKE8txO5rmUUuAnDTr/s1600/DSC01824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuXKyYqecz8yWFQnAC9E3nd3_LdlLbo-Q3d-BOUlequNDHJWP-Ck94Z988owpEMEDstHyJN15sjLFASpUaf9PsH3qY2Sc-igYB0lHpwgieNEOJ5nZNI3TISA8yyaKE8txO5rmUUuAnDTr/s400/DSC01824.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> <b>Whole Wheat Bagels with a Smorgasbord of Toppings</b><br />
2 teaspoons active dry yeast<br />
2 teaspoons sugar<br />
1 cup warm water<br />
2 teaspoons salt<br />
2 1/4 cup whole wheat flour<br />
1 egg for egg wash<br />
<u>Toppings:</u><br />
Cinnamon+sugar<br />
cheese slices (I used pepper jack)<br />
Minced garlic<br />
sea-salt<br />
<br />
Mix yeast, sugar, and water in a bowl and let bubble for 5 minutes. Stir in salt and flour with a fork until it starts to form into a ball. Flour hands and knead dough on floured surface for 5 minutes. Place it in a greased bowl in a warm place, covered for an hour. Divide dough into six balls and place under dishtowel for another 30 minutes. Form into rings and place rings in boiling water for 4 minutes, two minutes on each side. Once mostly dry, cover in egg wash and add toppings. Bake in 415 degree oven for 25 minutes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5sUemLJS9edOm1v5LWhPRrdrHWkxqo5qPnyFKOn_jy1EbwIg_5K-felDsZGm4A40fFN6UuNGihW-VeTMf2hSR9rghRtnRgxOzrj0khBEpXnXe3etSl-R3JV10RSQY_k0bKxJ-mLqjvka/s1600/DSC01826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5sUemLJS9edOm1v5LWhPRrdrHWkxqo5qPnyFKOn_jy1EbwIg_5K-felDsZGm4A40fFN6UuNGihW-VeTMf2hSR9rghRtnRgxOzrj0khBEpXnXe3etSl-R3JV10RSQY_k0bKxJ-mLqjvka/s400/DSC01826.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-28515516323266920932011-05-09T15:17:00.001-04:002011-05-09T15:21:20.080-04:00Masa, Boston<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">My brother, Spencer, was visiting from New York and invited me to a birthday dinner with one of his friends. I love a birthday as much as the next girl and Masa in the South End was a perfect place for it. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I haven’t spent much time in the South End at all, and I’ve heard rave reviews about the restaurants and bars in that area so I was looking forward to it. </div><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/AVvXsEjzVo6frcFXUJPRkdhv1Sba4Uu-Hp6PWSl4xBSiinvgkbPV9xZlCjmN1XQj0uc_LEHLGWiLbnaTl4hu_B7THK0uiux4e1wyl3J35XE33_rLxEOEUvCOel8AodhxdgdBei0EeshYT7oqVYz4/s1600/DSC01808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVo6frcFXUJPRkdhv1Sba4Uu-Hp6PWSl4xBSiinvgkbPV9xZlCjmN1XQj0uc_LEHLGWiLbnaTl4hu_B7THK0uiux4e1wyl3J35XE33_rLxEOEUvCOel8AodhxdgdBei0EeshYT7oqVYz4/s400/DSC01808.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sangria+Margarita=Sangria Margarita</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We showed up slightly late for our 8:30 reservation, (beers at Jerry Remy’s in Seaport proved to be an obstacle for us arriving on time,) but it was just as well because we weren’t seated until 9:30. Fortunately, it wasn’t a chore standing in the bar and hanging out with some of their creative drink options. The birthday boy suggested their margaritas, and it seemed to be their specialty because they had at least 10 varieties on the chalk board menu. Spencer tested his taste buds with the watermelon habanero margarita and I tried the sangria margarita. Spencer’s was definitely HOT with some serious afterburners. He said it prevented him from drinking it too fast, which often happens with fruity, delicious cocktails. Mine was an interesting fusion of Spanish/Mexican drinks. The margarita flavor definitely over powered the sangria, but it was worth a try. </div><div class="MsoNormal">After we were seated an hour after our reservation, the wait staff was very hospitable and brought tasting flights of various tequilas to the table. They explained each one with words like “high land” and “low land” and “anejo”; they even explained that one was aged for a year but NEVER longer. We were all happy that they did a lil’ something to make up for the wait, but none of us were tequila experts so we kind of just drank it down and wished we had a lime on the side. </div><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/AVvXsEhUga6bZDpUQC5g6JH4GnNWt_G3IwtEz-JQlTenwpusyjD4kFy4LqWIgUIQjT49iA9fH1VFZVxLlXj7tjoEely1IBVYcw56mG9yCiKWQoHYqTmmDD5Wd_lcKev_53RN2CVCS769bCmHk7K4/s1600/DSC01810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUga6bZDpUQC5g6JH4GnNWt_G3IwtEz-JQlTenwpusyjD4kFy4LqWIgUIQjT49iA9fH1VFZVxLlXj7tjoEely1IBVYcw56mG9yCiKWQoHYqTmmDD5Wd_lcKev_53RN2CVCS769bCmHk7K4/s400/DSC01810.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriba, el bajo, el centro, el dentro!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> On to the food, the menu was one of those where I felt like I could close my eyes and point and would have got something incredible. So many great options. I decided on the grilled guajillo swordfish steak with banana papaya mole, served with herb roasted purple potato wedges and tomatillo salsa. The fish was impressive, I would order this again any day, mercury intake be damned! The grilling created a crust with some spices that I could not particularly identify. But the fish was left very simple, which I like. The mole was sweet and smoky and added perfect balance to the crisp flavor of the salsa. I could not remember what the menu said, so I was licking the mole off my spoon and having no idea what it was. Other people tasted it as well and all said the same thing, “That’s great, but, what is it?” I checked the menu later and was excited that the sauce I loved so much was a banana papaya mole. Fruit and fish, always a great pairing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySaQib_GmbLQr4VzoH3lbB7oUSMm7tFEajqOQ1Rl1K2KOPU4DncbNHfwW_xodI_yqy1vTAYWpSd55TCeFdF89wcEBPrAGZoYTbRg2fMBmSfJXX6pIUv0zxwYwOXMMAJHWabKjf7tSwnkc/s1600/DSC01813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySaQib_GmbLQr4VzoH3lbB7oUSMm7tFEajqOQ1Rl1K2KOPU4DncbNHfwW_xodI_yqy1vTAYWpSd55TCeFdF89wcEBPrAGZoYTbRg2fMBmSfJXX6pIUv0zxwYwOXMMAJHWabKjf7tSwnkc/s400/DSC01813.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The purple potatoes were nestled underneath the fish, created a little landing pad for the steak, and they added a carby, crunch to the meal. I loved using them as vehicles for more mole sauce. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Spencer and about four other people at the table ordered the Negra Modelo braised pork shoulder with sauce borracha, <span style="font-family: Times-Roman;">port and fig jam, baby arugula, and garlic whipped potatoes</span>. The waiter recommended this as the house specialty. They were not disappointed. I had a bite, and it was some of the best pork I’ve ever eaten, and pork is something I don’t normally go for on the menu. Spencer declared several times that he “could eat this with a spoon!” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarGMG_lqWRsa5WOdxwamh_cSPlQlHeQf22DWFzpxv_J8uX2Y_pnmaJM5YvrBldPSCHVj77aeLxKafj_xUFAfPQTUC4BAdMFPrByfgGNwN9VusSWiN21zUfqEK2XhJkcko_7tgwvwXmjyf/s1600/DSC01812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarGMG_lqWRsa5WOdxwamh_cSPlQlHeQf22DWFzpxv_J8uX2Y_pnmaJM5YvrBldPSCHVj77aeLxKafj_xUFAfPQTUC4BAdMFPrByfgGNwN9VusSWiN21zUfqEK2XhJkcko_7tgwvwXmjyf/s400/DSC01812.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In both dishes there was a great balance of spicy and sweet. The fig jam and spicy sauce balanced out the pork in an interesting way with a true Southwestern flair. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I would definitely go back to Masa. There were so many good options, and everyone at the table was pleased with their order. This is a place to go when you want to see creative flavor combinations that will get the table talking. Everyone had something that surprised them, whether it was a stunning main dish, a unidentifiable sauce, or a cocktail blended with a pound of cucumber. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Highly recommended!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.masarestaurant.com/boston/index.html">Masa</a><br />
439 Tremont Street<br />
Boston, MA</div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-1268490864539857372011-05-08T13:00:00.000-04:002011-05-08T13:00:11.813-04:00Berry Breakfast Couscous<style>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzg3NVxk4QGuWhD81rf6vPmcTNc49OYEeOT_qE3DbXo03WESvYgA2BOj-CnBzpjQJ12ECnstWsujlyLDgJABqGl1WfOC97lijJpz98gsQgWzHmEAWeG53Drx0yeKddzIi2a2QdRVKzp9mT/s1600/DSC01817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzg3NVxk4QGuWhD81rf6vPmcTNc49OYEeOT_qE3DbXo03WESvYgA2BOj-CnBzpjQJ12ECnstWsujlyLDgJABqGl1WfOC97lijJpz98gsQgWzHmEAWeG53Drx0yeKddzIi2a2QdRVKzp9mT/s400/DSC01817.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hello, Spring. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Sometimes you have a To-Do list and that To-Do list says you need to get to the library as soon as possible and write your last paper of your college career. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>But there is no way to get to the library without having coffee and breakfast. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>So then suddenly your To-Do list includes, ‘make coffee’, and ‘eat breakfast’. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>And since it is simply a crime to try to write a paper or haul ones carcass to the library without a breakfast that is chock full of brain food, then your To-Do list suddenly includes ‘make delicious and mentally stimulating breakfast’. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>And before you know it it’s 11:00 and instead of having your head down over your rough draft in a quiet corner of the library you’re hovering over a simmering pot of couscous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>But it’s okay because you were just trying to get to the library as fast as possible and it’s not your fault that breakfast is essential. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Keep slicing those strawberries. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>You’re doing just fine. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2u5xznw4Bogs7McWA2kQDzNFRMNDnpi4uxrSm3SdUDpIty7U2LYkKopFAK4GYlstxG9jUi_rjNlxHKDkZdDkeY7Qr2lckXSI1V9PhOD8M-scEC0a88K-lHeNkMg6y-Ap1_Iy3mIegzWPQ/s1600/DSC01820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2u5xznw4Bogs7McWA2kQDzNFRMNDnpi4uxrSm3SdUDpIty7U2LYkKopFAK4GYlstxG9jUi_rjNlxHKDkZdDkeY7Qr2lckXSI1V9PhOD8M-scEC0a88K-lHeNkMg6y-Ap1_Iy3mIegzWPQ/s400/DSC01820.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span>Berry Breakfast Couscous</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1/3 cup whole wheat pearl couscous</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>¾ cup blueberries</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1 cup strawberries cut any way that strikes your fancy</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1 teaspoon brown sugar</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>cinnamon (I like several dashes, but I’m a fiend.)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>small handful of almonds</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Boil ¾ cup water on the stove, add couscous and simmer covered for about 8 minutes, or until all the water is absorbed. Stir in the cinnamon and brown sugar immediately and couscous will start to get creamy. Stir in berries and put in a bowl, top with almonds. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span><span style="font-size: small;">Dig in, and then go write your paper. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> </span></span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-74956462749888590102011-05-02T15:52:00.000-04:002011-05-02T15:52:39.450-04:00Quest for the perfect breakfast sandwich: True Grounds, Somerville<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span>First of all, the café itself: True Grounds is what I like to think of as the “new face of Somerville”, the trendy coffee shops and laid back atmospheres that invite you to stay awhile, (but make you pay for refills so you don’t stay <i>too</i></span><span> long.) This past Sunday was a beautiful day and the door was wide open and people were lingering at the outdoor tables. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG1S61ZtyGfDf6NpUdvrkZ91txnp6pZcoXrvuDAhQz3hfRFtS1DERUlXq6rhnJ0hyOib1fgtBR25YIWFrwFMZY4dhYVJk5p2rhvMPimdQkq0YkRbPFDLTeQGLvXbKFUg-5c2x7phm-tTs/s1600/DSC01801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG1S61ZtyGfDf6NpUdvrkZ91txnp6pZcoXrvuDAhQz3hfRFtS1DERUlXq6rhnJ0hyOib1fgtBR25YIWFrwFMZY4dhYVJk5p2rhvMPimdQkq0YkRbPFDLTeQGLvXbKFUg-5c2x7phm-tTs/s400/DSC01801.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>True Grounds is also a great option for weekends because the Somerville brunch scene can be kind of chaotic. If you’re not in the mood to stand in line for 30 minutes across the street at Soundbites or Ball Square Café, True Grounds is a great move. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> Now on to the sandwiches, Joey and I both knew we were ordering breakfast sandwiches before we even looked at the menu. So while the breakfast burrito offerings and bakery items could have been tempting, we were on a mission. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>I ordered the scrambled egg ‘n’ cheese with spinach on a plain bagel and Joey got the scrambled egg ‘n’ cheese with bacon on a poppy bagel. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-xM4-lAht2taTnyCCMJT13j1linauXBgzKw-26sWPK4pK4Uzz-RPDZoVoEmIGEuOKK6CW8LaVk6pE1fv3OjdqPteG8Tx8stzJA28_FCnEcSKlRTTmSdTereE93ziMHAniyV73Bdzu-hY/s1600/DSC01799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-xM4-lAht2taTnyCCMJT13j1linauXBgzKw-26sWPK4pK4Uzz-RPDZoVoEmIGEuOKK6CW8LaVk6pE1fv3OjdqPteG8Tx8stzJA28_FCnEcSKlRTTmSdTereE93ziMHAniyV73Bdzu-hY/s400/DSC01799.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>My immediate impression is that the bagel was fresh and of high quality. The outside was crunchy and the inside soft. The scrambled eggs were nice and fluffy yet managed to stay on the bagel for the most part. I threw a few chunks onto my shirt, but that can hardly be blamed on the sandwich. The cheese could have been more thoroughly melted. The spinach was a great addition, but I they could have mixed it into the eggs somehow. The spinach layer was quite thick, and just so…spinachy. I nonetheless enjoyed my sandwich greatly, the bagel was a great delivery system and the ingredients were quality. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>Joey enjoyed his sandwich as well, he had a similar feeling about the bagel, two thumbs up. </span></div><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/AVvXsEg_DcfBEJBtH9pGsaG2PS8j1oJyqX7PPB6SI4akgkT6LIzfbxl2oYUuYTPmWf2KO49sIJJhFAAbdwpXuKVsVh8OjHLEO_AradYUcgnvsXOhmH6celSB9hTEXe0yQ3bV9oQxkl7GPnyrPuBf/s1600/DSC01800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DcfBEJBtH9pGsaG2PS8j1oJyqX7PPB6SI4akgkT6LIzfbxl2oYUuYTPmWf2KO49sIJJhFAAbdwpXuKVsVh8OjHLEO_AradYUcgnvsXOhmH6celSB9hTEXe0yQ3bV9oQxkl7GPnyrPuBf/s400/DSC01800.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can almost feel my muscles getting bigger just looking at it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span><b>Verdict:</b> Reasonable prices, nice atmosphere, quality ingredients, breadth of offerings. I would definitely go back. (And maybe ask them to heat my sandwich for a tad longer.)<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.truegrounds.com/"><span><span>True Grounds</span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span>717 Broadway- Ball Square</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span>Somerville </span></span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590499648237693536.post-67039020452916738792011-04-28T17:58:00.001-04:002011-05-03T11:52:34.610-04:00White Chocolate Sugar Cookie Bars with Raspberry Frosting<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMASRx4DRA_USMbQCV9OMaKH6TgxpG0NYz4bDZ2Fc4lCGnmi3Z3cPGZU42ud4moMJYj6Fr-P-421vCFHGdCJCLQq52HIaKP2oO88JPfCMqkfmj9ZMznwPURoOTBRdr_4qIQeDHVvzmjgl/s1600/DSC01796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMASRx4DRA_USMbQCV9OMaKH6TgxpG0NYz4bDZ2Fc4lCGnmi3Z3cPGZU42ud4moMJYj6Fr-P-421vCFHGdCJCLQq52HIaKP2oO88JPfCMqkfmj9ZMznwPURoOTBRdr_4qIQeDHVvzmjgl/s400/DSC01796.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Three weeks before our college graduation and Geneva and I are considering dropping out to start a bakery. Sometimes at 11 pm on the third to last day of school that seems like a good idea. We were both baking treats for our classes to enjoy, and in our small kitchen we were quite the whirlwind of spatulas and sugar. </div><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/AVvXsEi6GjYCotAJHD_gyz5AH7WT0CBmB9wrmdtqoYyE6V0VxBcLDlRxtESkIbUGax-90B1m_cVcjF40t9iNfCcx1nPm7OMv64gipyXBIdLN1ZW9jhsbOrYEUuD2Zzrj2_7WjJPPVZQYonXzBxcH/s1600/DSC01798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GjYCotAJHD_gyz5AH7WT0CBmB9wrmdtqoYyE6V0VxBcLDlRxtESkIbUGax-90B1m_cVcjF40t9iNfCcx1nPm7OMv64gipyXBIdLN1ZW9jhsbOrYEUuD2Zzrj2_7WjJPPVZQYonXzBxcH/s400/DSC01798.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geneva's Snickerdoodles that taunted me from the oven</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Geneva was baking a batch of snickerdoodles and in no time at all she was meticulously rolling the dough into balls and then coating them in cinnamon sugar. As soon as they were in the oven the tangy, sweet smells of cream of tarter and sugar filled the kitchen. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I was baking a recipe that I saw on <a href="http://www.cinnamonspiceandeverythingnice.com/">Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice</a>, the pictures were so cute and I bookmarked it as a way to diversify my cookie repertoire. I also thought the pink frosting would be appropriate for my class on dating and courtship, (love that I get to read books about dating and call it homework.)</div><div class="MsoNormal">This recipe was very simple to mix together and I love how bar cookies are so low maintenance, just one batch into the oven and you’re all set. </div><div class="MsoNormal">The frosting is a simple buttercream with raspberry jam mixed in, this gives it great fruity flavor and a subtle pink color. </div><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/AVvXsEgUTElBU8I6kjWvHH5J1LmwhP4-Q-FMyxD7Rft7saEiinOpRRUturpDCuurvxsv4hvyZKMg7svf6SlNKakkre5tF_cgqKGpJwCcuo0niOxCshewvl-roAMvorUVZHE6KM7A_R6LvOJNt2fb/s1600/DSC01793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTElBU8I6kjWvHH5J1LmwhP4-Q-FMyxD7Rft7saEiinOpRRUturpDCuurvxsv4hvyZKMg7svf6SlNKakkre5tF_cgqKGpJwCcuo0niOxCshewvl-roAMvorUVZHE6KM7A_R6LvOJNt2fb/s400/DSC01793.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One batch simplicity</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> On her blog Reeni suggests to put the bars into the refrigerator after frosting them. I followed suit and was amazed at what this did to the cookies. The bars were still soft and the flavor of the raspberries was intensified by the cold. </div><div class="MsoNormal">The bars were a big hit in my class, and it reminded me that raspberries and white chocolate are a winning combination. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe these will be on the menu at the hypothetical Geneva and Audrey bakery. We will have to have a few more extravaganzas to find some more favorites. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqc954wEFAfK14uFioYC_MwpWWB2LQg1cEAFnB3Kw_j4jwkaO-Ri99rBXIDtmdRnHfvZK83qLzFbTnlbewtAN_UNJ3y3ZRueyO-xa8XGSH_9RhzlHLUjvl7K_x4iUeSqSk6PbPVSAIXK9/s1600/DSC01794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqc954wEFAfK14uFioYC_MwpWWB2LQg1cEAFnB3Kw_j4jwkaO-Ri99rBXIDtmdRnHfvZK83qLzFbTnlbewtAN_UNJ3y3ZRueyO-xa8XGSH_9RhzlHLUjvl7K_x4iUeSqSk6PbPVSAIXK9/s400/DSC01794.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <b>White Chocolate Sugar Cookie Bars with Raspberry Frosting</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Adapted from <a href="http://www.cinnamonspiceandeverythingnice.com/2011/04/white-chocolate-sugar-cookie-bars-with.html">Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">8 tablespoons butter, room temperature</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 cup sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 eggs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 cups flour</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/4 teaspoon salt</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/4 teaspoon baking soda</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 cup white chocolate, chopped or chips</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">frosting:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">4 tablespoons butter, room temperature</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">about 3 cups confectioners' sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/4 cup raspberry jam</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 teaspoon water </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mix flour, baking soda, and salt in small bowl. Cream butter and sugar. Add vanilla, and eggs one at a time. Slowly add dry ingredients. Use spatula to fold in white chocolate. Bake in a 9 x 9 pan at 375 for 14 minutes, (do not overbake even though they look very light colored, you will be thankful.) Make frosting by beating all ingredients together until smooth. Let bars cool them top with the frosting and sprinkles!</span></div>Audrey Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654315654766762136noreply@blogger.com12