Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

Happy birthday to my wonderful Mother, who turns 72 years young today!!!

She's in Florida right now…enjoying the sunshine and warmth and easy living…I don't think there's a day that's gone by recently where she hasn't called me and said, "Thank you SO much for introducing us to Fort Myers!" - because, as you know, I am first and foremost an EXPERT on all-things Florida and Fort Myers-related. I'm starting to think that wintering in sunny southern Florida is going to extend her life by another twenty years…which could be pretty awesome.

She's always been a pretty cool mom. She taught us early on to be strong…to be independent…and to go after life with gusto and passion. She set the bar pretty high while we were growing up, and my siblings and I learned pretty quickly that we did NOT want to disappoint Mom…either with our actions, our grades, or our words. We were given the tools to make our own decisions, and we were also given the grace to learn from our mistakes, and deal with the consequences, which I think is a fantastic lesson to pass on to all of our children.

Mom's always had a way of making people feel comfortable, and I like to think that she's passed that down to me. She has always been gracious to everyone visiting her home - young and old - and she has a knack of putting people at ease. I remember never being embarrassed at bringing my friends home from school to introduce them to my folks, as my folks were "cool."

She's not perfect…she drives me CRAZY with her incessant need to constantly move furniture around, even in my OWN home…but I guess that's what makes her human and lovable. She also seems to have a strange and weird obsession, bordering on "hoarding", of earrings. I don't think I've ever seen her wear the same pair twice. It's rather interesting, as my daughter seems to have inherited every trait that my mother possesses…making me somewhat of a "sandwich" between the two generations. This could be a bad thing, if I didn't love my Mom so much…or my daughter, for that matter.

Anyways, happy birthday, Mom! We are looking forward to flying down to Florida this weekend to see you and Dad, and to enjoy that gluten-free dinner you're preparing for us Saturday night. Maybe we'll pick up some ice cream from the Love Boat, and we'll make a belated birthday party of it.

We love you - and miss you!

Review: Babes on Bourbon Street

The Culinary Center of Kansas City has always been one of my most-favorite venues in the KC area…besides a really cool and inviting ambiance, they really have it going on with the classes and events they offer.

Case in point: a few days ago, they were offering an event entitled: "Girls Night Out! Babes on Bourbon Street!" - which promised fun, food and frivolity. And drinks. The best part? This was completely a "demo" class - which meant that the chef would do ALL the work, and I'd get all of the benefits - as in, all I would have to do is eat. And drink. Count me in.

Gathering up my sister, because we were overdue for our monthly "dine and dish" - where we go out for dinner and then dish out on everything under the sun, whether that be husbands, kids or jobs, we headed over to join in the festivities, along with about twenty or so other women. Because this was heading into Mardi Gras weekend, the entire venue was decked out with New Orleans-inspired decorations - including beads, masks, and feathers…and the menu, including cocktails, would all have a bit of a Creole theme.


Our class handbook - which included all of the recipes, and more….



Our instructor for the evening, Bruce, quickly got the good times rollin' by demonstrating the original "Hurricane", the signature drink of Pat O'Brien's bar on Bourbon Street. Many years ago, Bruce was a bartender here, so he knew all sorts of tips and tricks on how to make this drink to perfection. The drink got its name - NOT from a Mother-Nature inspired hurricane - but from the glass that was shaped like a hurricane lamp that it was served in.



Bruce suggested adding a 1/4 oz of passion fruit juice to the mix, if you're able - as it will really give the drink a "Wow!" factor. If you're making large quantities of the drink, you can always substitute Hawaiian Punch for the fruit juices. Also…the 151 Rum gets poured on the very top - right before serving - but always let the drink sit about 5 minutes or so before drinking…as the flavors will have a chance to "settle" and it will taste truly divine. And a bit of trivia: if the drink has rum, it's a true "Hurricane." If it has Vodka, then it's a "Cyclone."



Many years ago, I'd visited Pat O'Brien's bar while vacationing in New Orleans…and I'm pretty sure I'd tried the Hurricane, but being that I'm now old and my memory is pretty shot, I couldn't remember if I'd liked it or not.



The verdict? Yum. Me likey. Me likey rum. In my tum.

My sister then gave it a try:



Did she like it? Eh…not so much. She's not a big fan of the sweet, fou-fou drinks like I am.

Next up was a Creole Bloody Mary…with some interesting ingredients such as Emeril's Bayou Blast seasoning, pickled okra juice, and whole-grain mustard. I'm not a fan of Bloody Marys, so I was a bit hesitant about this one, especially when I saw all of the seasonings that can pack a kick.


Bruce, getting ready to pour the final product…



Note that Bruce substituted Emeril's Bayou Blast seasoning for the Zatarain's Creole Seasoning…but either will work...


My sister loves Bloody Mary's, so I was anxious to see her reaction to this drink:


Hey Mikey! She likes it!!



She gave it a resounding thumbs-up, saying that it had "meat" to it. I, however, hated it - even if I could get past the tomato-taste to it (I hate tomatoes, by the way), I could NOT get past the fact that it was extremely spicy. Gah. I handed my drink over to my sister, who then handed me her unfinished Hurricane, so we were both happy.


Wait…how the heck did my sister get THREE Bloody Mary's in front of her???!! Lush.



Our third cocktail of the evening was something called a Ramos Fizz…which was, frankly, just weird:


Looks deceivingly like a milkshake…but don't let it's "innocent" look fool you….


This drink…is hard to describe. Let me post something that was written about this drink by Esquire Magazine's cocktail reviewer:

"The Ramos Fizz, alias the New Orleans Fizz or the Gin Fizz, breaks all the rules. It's fussy, dated, takes a long time to make and uses too many ingredients, one quite hard to find. It's not an everyday drink, yet you can't mix it up in big batches for company (nor should you order one in a bar). You've got to make these babies yourself, one or two at a time. So why bother?

If the Sidecar is jazz, the Ramos Fizz is ragtime. Sure, it's from New Orleans -- cradle of jazz and all that -- but it harks back to 1888, two years before Jelly Roll Morton was born and thirteen years before the great Louis Armstrong joined us. Like ragtime, Henry C. Ramos's creation is a matter of poise, of balance, of delicacy. This isn't a drink to throw together from whatever you've got lying around; every part of the formula is crucial. The egg white gives it body, the cream lends smoothness, and the citrus provides its cool. The sugar tames the citrus, the gin does what gin does, and the seltzer wakes the whole thing up. As for the orange flower water -- that's for mystery.

To sip a Ramos Fizz on a hot day is to step into a sepia-toned world peopled with slim, brown-eyed beauties who smell of magnolias and freshly laundered linen, and tall, mustachioed gentlemen who never seem to work and will kill you if you ask them why."

My sister hated this drink…so did pretty much everyone in the room, with a few exceptions, notably moi. I kinda' liked it. Maybe I'd had enough Hurricanes at this point that I would have liked anything - who knows - but I especially liked making milk mustaches while sipping this…at which point, my sister implored, "Give me your keys. Now." Whah?? She thinks I'm tipsy, just because I like having some fun and making milk mustaches??? She's such a spoil-sport.

Perhaps it was the sight of some of us (okay, me) making milk mustaches, that had Bruce deciding it was time for us to get some food in our tummies. We headed over to the buffet, where we dined on (all gluten-free, by the way) such delicacies as:


Artichoke, Asiago & Spinach Dip…Salad with a Black-Eyed Pea and Bacon Vinaigrette…and Jambalaya...


Nom. Nom. Nom. Sadly, thé dessert, White Chocolate Bread Pudding with Creme Anglaise, was NOT gluten-free, so that's when I had a "Sucks To Be Me" moment, as I couldn't indulge. That's okay…I just made more milk mustaches from my Ramos Fizz.

Our after-dinner drink was a variation of the World's Oldest Cocktail, the Sazerac Cocktail. For some interesting history on this drink, click HERE. Bruce told us the story of this as he mixed it all together:


And no, I haven't taken a picture of a half-drunk glass…that's ALL the drink you need, trust me.


I took a sip of this, and WHOOOOOAAAAAAA, MAMA!!! That was one strong drink.

I liked it. Sister didn't. Yum. Which means more for me.

Actually, this drink is enjoyed slowly…reallllllllly slowly. Sips…sips…sips…letting it roll off your tongue, where you can then pick up on the subtle flavors that are embedded in this. As Bruce said, this would be a drink to nurse all night at the bar, sipping slowly while enjoying the ambiance and company of friends.

One last drink…a Cafe Brulot Diabolique, which was a very strong, and very hot, coffee…Bruce REALLY heats things up in the kitchen while preparing this:


The picture is grainy, as they'd turned the lights off in the kitchen, so we could experience the full effect of the flames. Awesome.



This black coffee has some magic voodoo dust (cinnamon), as well as cloves, lemon, sugar and brandy. I hated it, but I'm not especially fond of coffee. Sister, sticking true to form of liking everything I didn't - and vice versa - loved it. We make a perfect team when we go out - the Ying and the Yang, so to speak, of the culinary world.

All too soon, it was time to head home…but not without some last-minute fun:




A great evening, full of good food, good drinks, but most of all, good company. I enjoyed having fun with Sister, as well as the other ladies at our table…we learned a lot, laughed a lot, and lived just a bit…which is the whole point of a good Girls Night Out.

Peace.

My Beef With February

I hate the month of February.

Sigh.

As far back as high school, I can remember lamenting the awfulness that is known as February.

It's just a horrible, sucky month that - other than Valentine's Day, with it's promise of chocolates and roses and such, really has nothing else going for it (with apologies to anyone who happened to be born during this period). Seriously, knowing that it was such an awful month, even God got into the spirit, by only giving it twenty-eight days, as even HE knew that we couldn't suffer through this month for one day longer.

There's no football on Sundays anymore…and baseball has really yet to begin. I'm in full-blown sports withdrawal right now, and try as I might, the NBA games or college basketball games will just not cut it. I want something that's played outside - on a field…not on a court, inside an arena.

The days are getting temptingly longer, but it's still just too darn cold to be outside to enjoy them. During these snowy and frosty mornings, I have to run indoors, on the dreaded treadmill (or "dreadmill", as some call it - for good reason.) My feet are itching to run on pavement, while my lungs breathe in fresh, clean air….

We're at that point in the winter season that it seems to have taken a permanent hold, tightening it's grip on Mother Nature, keeping the trees bare and the grass dormant and the flowers hidden…spring seems so tantalizing close, and yet…so far away.

The lake outside my window seems to have permanently frozen over, and I catch myself checking it every morning, hoping against hope that I'm seeing signs of a thaw…but not yet. Not this week. Not for a few days to come, perhaps.

Sigh.

All I know is…March can come in like a lion…or like a lamb…I don't care, just as long as it comes, with it's promise of spring, sunshine, birds, warmth…and baseball.

Yes. I need those things.

And life will be good.

Peace.

Review: Hilo Farmers Market

Let's talk Hilo today!

As in beautiful Hilo, Hawaii…located on the eastern side of the "Big Island" - the newest, and most interesting (in my opinion), of the Hawaiian islands. After slaving and toiling and sweating for several long, exhausting days (can you see I'm milking this?) on our recent mission trip, it was time to put down our tools and jump in the van for some much-needed respite from our physical labors.

We spent the morning at the very diverse, and very festive Hilo Farmers Market…a conglomeration of approximately 200 booths with such offerings as fruits, flowers, crafts, clothing and jewelry. The Market is open on Wednesdays and Saturdays, beginning at 6:00 am and lasting for most of the day - or until the vendors are either tired themselves or sold out. I had visited this same Market back in 2008, and I remembered it as being one that requires careful exploration of everything it has to offer.

It's located right along Hilo Bay, in historic downtown Hilo…there's nearby parking, but a suggestion would be to arrive early, as the parking will quickly fill up. After securing our van, I quickly crossed busy Kamahameha Avenue, and decided to first explore the "food & flower" side of the Market.

There were TONS of fruit and vegetable vendors, with a virtual cornucopia of vegetarian delights…most of which I COULD identify:



…such as pineapples and bananas (cuz I'm smart like that)…but some of which I had NO IDEA what the heck they were:



…such as these sea urchin-looking spiky things. I'm sorry, but these…thingies…could be the most AWESOME tasting things on the planet, but when something looks like it can HURT me, I tend to stay away from it.

Most of the vendors were very willing to let you sample the wares, so I would suggest going hungry. Besides the produce, there were lots of baked goods, hot sauces, and flower booths - an explosion of colors, sights and smells, with dozens of frenzied shoppers all scurrying here and there, elbowing each other out to get the best deal on the best product.

I eventually crossed Mamo Street, which then found me in the Crafts, Clothing and Misc side of the Market…and I first approached a booth that offered jewelry. Duh. Where ELSE would the Drama Queen head to, if not looking for free food samples? Bright, shiny objects are my second love, so it was a no-brainer. The young artist here, Kristof, showed me her hand-made wares, which were really unique. I think half the fun in Farmers Markets is chatting with the vendors, especially the artists - as I love to hear their stories on how they were inspired. I eventually purchased this set:



Oh, how I wish you could reach through your screen and touch these…because the little black "pearls" are very soft and fuzzy. In fact, Kristof's booth is called "Velvet Jewelry" (www.VelvetJewelry.com) - as she makes her pieces from the mgambo seed, which is known as the Hawaiian Pussy Willow. I love pieces that are unique and remind me of the places I've traveled, and I think this set is perfect for that.

After finishing up my purchase, a couple from my mission team walked up and asked me if I had discovered the gluten-free bread, that was being sold back over in the Food side of the Market.

Wait, what? Gluten-free bread? Ack. I had missed this little delight, but promised that I would make my way back over there soon to discover it.

Moving on, I found myself surrounded by a multitude of t-shirt booths…but I was looking for something unique, once again…something that not every other tourist on the island would have. I found it at a little booth tucked towards the back, where I met this gentleman:



Meet Ken Iwata, an artist who hand paints t-shirts, therefore insuring that no two t-shirts will ever be alike. After admiring his wares, I ended up purchasing a really cool shirt, and asked him to sign it for me, which he willingly did:



All of this conversing and shopping (but mainly conversing, go figure) had left me thirsty, and I was in luck. There's a little food cart tucked away that offered up a delicious smoothie with kale, pineapple and banana…just the ticket for a hot and sunny day in Hilo. Gah, I wished I'd taken a picture of the cart, because it was a little hidden oasis, and I would most definitely recommend it for future Market visitors.

Strolling through the Craft market once more, sipping on my little delicious piece of delicious, I ran into another couple from my mission team. They immediately asked me if I'd seen the gluten-free bread that was being sold back over in the Food side of the Market, and I once again replied that, "No, I'd missed it" - but promised, again, to head back over there to find it. I loved how my mission team was taking care of me.

Walking along, I found myself approaching a table that was offering a book. Just one book…but it intrigued me. I ended up chatting with Colonel Chuck Sanders, aka Bishop Dr. Charles E Sanders DCCom, Drk, PhD, and author of the book, "Life After Vietnam, When Chucky Comes Marching Home."



Colonel Chuck was really interesting, and he was gracious enough to sign my book for me:




About this time, another couple from my mission team saw me and started approaching, so I immediately said, "Ack! NO! I didn't see the gluten-free bread, but I'm heading over there now!!!!" They looked at me like I was crazy, so perhaps I jumped the gun in assuming that's what they were going to say to me. Oops.

It didn't take long to discover the little bakery that was selling the gluten-free bread, and I must tell you, Dear Readers, that the entire trip/cost to Hawaii was worth it once I got a taste of this delight. EEP! Oh heavens, it was FABULOUS!



I haven't had bread this good since…well…since I gave up bread! This bread had layer upon layer of different and subtle flavors, perhaps due to the variety of flour that was used in the mix. It was TO. DIE. FOR. Nom nom nom.


I was now a very happy camper, what with my unique purchases, my interesting conversations with the locals, and my bread…so I ambled my way back over to the parking lot, to await the return of my fellow team members. Along the way, I snapped some cool pics of the trees near the market:



The Monkeypod trees are found all over Hawaii, and are rather unique. A single stalk and branches that grow into a HUGE canopy, the grass is ALWAYS greener under them, as their leaves release nitrogen that fertilizes the soil under the tree. They make GREAT sitting-in-the-shade and chillaxin' trees. Just don't sit under one during a rainstorm, though, as their branches tend to break off - and that could kinda' hurt.

I also discovered this really cool Banyan Tree:



I see a lot of these in Florida, but they're always fun and always cool…they remind me of a Sheepdog, for some reason…especially as seen from THIS view that I snapped:




So…the Hilo Farmers Market…a MUST-SEE if you're ever visiting the Big Island, on a Wednesday or Saturday. Take your time…soak up the ambiance…talk with the vendors…enjoy the free samples…


…and DON'T MISS THE GLUTEN-FREE BREAD, or you'll NEVER hear the end of it.

Peace.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pink Socks

It began innocently enough.

Well. As innocent as it can be, when one clearly has a severe case of Pink Sock Envy.

While on my recent mission trip to Hawaii, I happened to notice one of the ladies wearing a GORGEOUS pair of bright, neon-pink socks. I couldn't help but notice them, actually, as they were so bright, so PINK, that they were all but glowing in the dark. They practically screamed, "LOOK AT ME!!", and since that's sorta' my personality, I couldn't help but admire them. So, I complimented Miss Lark on her fabulous choice of footwear that morning:

"Those pink socks are AMAZING!" I said, adding, "I can't help but think that those pink socks would look fabulous on ME!!!"

We both giggled, and moved on with our day….

As it was one of my responsibilities to do the group's laundry each morning, I couldn't help but notice the socks as they came through the wash room the next day. I dutifully washed and folded them, and added them to Miss Lark's laundry pile…but I couldn't resist teasing Miss Lark later that evening.

"Hey, Miss Lark…you know those pink socks of yours that I liked so much??" I asked, innocently…and not waiting for an answer, I added, "The dryer may or may not have made them mysteriously disappear…."

We all laughed, but who would have guessed that the game of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pink Socks had just begun??

Early the next morning, I stumbled out of bed at an ungodly hour, and while still in the dark, so as not to disturb my roommate, I made my way to the restroom for a quick shower. Afterwards, I headed back to the room to quickly make my bed…but imagine my shock when I discovered Lark's pink socks…under my pillow.

"WHAH???" I jumped back in horror. "How the heck did THOSE get under my pillow??!!!" My brain (which wasn't quite awake, mind you) quickly tried to deduce how a pair of pink socks had ended up in my bed. Did I put them there? Accidentally? Was I a secret Pink Sock Kleptomaniac without even realizing it?? How would I explain to Lark that I had (inadvertently, mind you) swiped her pink socks??

Then…reason set in.

If you have spent any time with me at all, you know that the children's classic, "The Princess and the Pea", was clearly written about ME. Yes. True. Heck, it doesn't even take a pea in my bed to make me toss and turn all night - it can be a grain of SAND in my bed that will DRIVE. ME. INSANE. all night long…so there was NO way, NO how, that a pair of socks were under my pillow during the night while I slept blissfully unaware. Nope.

Which meant that Lark had somehow gotten my roommate in on this and was now playing a game with me. Well. Two can play at that game.

So…the pink socks made their way back to Lark's room that day…hidden in a super-secret place, that must not have been so SUPER secret after all, because they then made their way back to MY room, and then back to Lark's room, and so on…and so on…and so on. The rest of the mission team got into this game, and every so often, someone would sidle up to me and whisper, "Where are the socks??" And I would reply, "They're in Lark's room." And they would say, "Are you SURE??" And I thought I was sure…but maybe I wasn't so sure.

Drat. I have to go find the socks.

I seriously spent HALF OF MY FREE TIME hunting for Neon Pink Socks. Gah. No wonder I never had time to blog.

The trip was soon coming to a close, and I thought I had once and for all given Miss Lark back the Neon Pink Socks…hiding them in her suitcase so deep and buried that she would NEVER find them until she was safely back home. Imagine my surprise when I opened my OWN suitcase on our last day to this note:


"Wear in good health - thanks for everything. The Sock Fairy"



…along with several pairs of FABULOUS neon socks, that all scream, "LOOK AT MEEEEE!!!!!"


…and all just happen to coordinate nicely with my running shoes, perfectly!!!


Lark wins.

There was a good reason that I loved the pink socks…they not only matched my running shoes, but they also match my favorite Super Pink Spiderman Running outfit:



When I said that I like clothes that say, "Look at MEEEEEE!!!" - it's not necessarily about being narcissistic. It's about being safe. When you're a runner…and you're running along dark lake roads in the dusk…any edge you can have to get a driver to sit up and take notice…can keep you alive and well.

And Neon Pink Socks will do that.

Peace.

P.S. The group leader of the team got into the action, as well, by gifting me a few pairs of MORE pink socks that will ALSO match my favorite outfit:


Thanks, Dwayne!!!