Martha's Vineyard

There are time when you experience absolute euphoria being in a new place. It's like, you belong there, but you've never been there. For me, that place is Martha's Vineyard. Bring on the pastel seersuckers, popped-collar polos and salt-water taffy.

The Vineyard is a special place of old-world charm, quaint cobbled streets and misty sea breeze with an undercurrent of laid-back, come-as-you-are attitude. And so we came as we were.

Map.

Accompanied by our seasoned Vineyard tour guides (and traveling partners-in-crime), Troy and Carrie, we left Cambridge early (well, hello 6 A.M.), drove as far as there was land, then ferried over to Vineyard Haven. By 9:30 A.M. we were standing on the dock, trying to decide what we wanted to eat for breakfast (my vote is always clam chowder, no matter the time of day.) What a marvelous feeling, to have an entire day of exploration ahead. This is the stuff I live for.

Mmm.

We rented scooters at Sun 'N' Fun Rentals in Oak Bluffs and meandered our way from town to town. Martha's Vineyard is a mecca of tiny coastal spots, complete with lobster bites, ice cream shops, open coastal highways and kites flying high along the way. We laid ocean side at South Beach in Edgartown, laughed at the nudists from the cliffs of the Gayhead Lighthouse (you can't make this stuff up), and ate lobster at Nancy's on the water. We took far too many pictures, soaked up the sun and dreamed about the year to come. This is an interesting year for my husband and myself, as he is in his last year of business school. I only just graduated college this past summer, and all our free time is spent wondering, planning and dreaming about the "real world" (and an impending move - to somewhere!) that is quickly approaching.

Moment.

Early September at the Vineyard is a tiny taste of Heaven, and spending one glorious day there refreshed my spirit and provided me with a strange and wonderful sense of clarity. Apparently the island is inhabited by tons of artists, including big name like James Taylor and Meg Ryan, but also the lesser-known designers, authors, composers and freelancers that bring famed Hollywood entertainment to life. I see how these geniuses are able to draw inspiration by living in such a secluded and majestic cove. I felt a wonderful sense of creative assuredness wash over me while we drove along those open roads on our funny scooters. I had this feeling of "I can do it." "It", being some sort of creative professional endeavor. I have always wanted to be creative for a living, which is why I am drawn to professions that are artsy-fartsy. Singing, dancing, acting, coloring, creating, interacting... I don't know exactly what I want to be when I grow up, but it felt like another piece of the puzzle came together for me that day on Martha's Vineyard. Cheers to an "Oy!" moment!

TASTE: Sweet Potato Soufflé

The Food Coma Shall Commence.

Where I come from, Thanksgiving is a big deal. My family and my husband’s family are from the same town, so going home is a double whammy of love, fun, and FOOD. However, this year, we decided to stay in Cambridge in order to save money and honestly, catch up on sleep.  We could use about a year’s worth of sleep. So we’re penciling that in for this week’s main activity.

Although we are not flying south, I can’t exclude myself from the glorious bought of cooking and baking associated with this holiday. I am a Southern woman, and what does that mean? I have a few recipes up my sleeve. And since I have several celebrations and dinners this week, and I am cooking up a few of my very favorites!

Sweet Potato Souffle

If you’re from the South, this is simply a staple at the Thanksgiving dinner table. This is a recipe that both my mom and my mother-in-law make, and for the past several years I’ve adopted it as one of my staple Thanksgiving contributions. Last year, I made this dish and brought it to a potluck-style dinner for my husband’s 90 classmates. Since many of the students are international (and were celebrating their first Thanksgiving ever!) they didn’t quite connect with the idea that this casserole should be on the dinner menu. They looked at it curiously, exchanged confused glances and promptly moved my pseudo-confection dish to the dessert table. Clearly these Yankees have been missing out on the CENTERPIECE of Thanksgiving supper (am I biased? Surely not. These are facts.)  I had to tell the party organizers more than once, “No, it’s not a dessert, it’s really a dinner item. Yeah, it really doesn’t belong at the dessert table. Seriously.” This year? Same dinner, and I’ve got tons of people asking for the recipe. I just told them all to move to Georgia. We cook country and we do it right. (In all honestly, cooking these family recipes away from home has made me realize what grandmotherly instincts I have, like pushing my cooking on others and getting waaaaayyy too much satisfaction out of them actually liking it.)

Here it is! My favorite November dish:

Sweet Potato Souffle

Ingredients:

- 3 cups mashed yams (1 40-oz. can)

- 2 eggs

- 1/2 cup milk

- 1 cup sugar

- 1/2 tsp. vanilla

- 1 cup brown sugar

- 1/3 cup flour

- 1 cup pecans

- 1/3 cup melted butter

Directions:

Combine the drained yams, eggs, milk, 1/3 cup melted butter, 1 cup sugar and 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Mix together (preferably with a beater) until fully combined and then put in a 10" casserole dish. Then combine the brown sugar, flour, pecans and 1/3 cup melted butter and mix together and spread this mixture on top of the casserole. Bake at 350 for 30-40 mins. Take a bite, and for a fleeting moment, experience Heaven.

I also whipped up this pumpkin pie and a pretzel jello salad (my husband’s personal favorite.) Hope you enjoy!

Fave: My Girls

Girls, Girls Girls

Did I ever mention my family obsession? Yeah, I have that. Thankfully, I had the privilege of hosting both of my sisters and my cousin (who is literally like a sis) when they came up and visited good ol’ Boston. We ate, we drank and we laughed incessantly. It was food for my soul. And liver, teeth, esophagus… you get my point. It was righteous. And so long overdue.

Painting the Town

We visited a few of my favorite Cambridge spots, including dinner at Grafton Street Pub, whoopee pies at Clover and drinks at John Harvard’s. We got up early in the morning and did the Freedom Trail Run (one of my favorite Boston activities) and then enjoyed the best clam chowder in the world at Union Oyster House, which is only known as America’s oldest restaurant. We also spent a little time shopping at Anthropologie (the mother ship) and watched a very strange movie.  We were busy little betties, but we had so much fun.

Over-dramatic Emotions, You Are Welcome Here

You know when you just need girl time? You need to be able to vent, laugh, cry and get your head screwed on straight with truthful advice from those who love you most (and let you get away with things least.) It was such a beautiful time and was, unfortunately, cut short due to Hurricane Sandy. My sister and cousin flew out a little early to ensure they could make it home on time, which ended up being a very wise move. My big sis had a flight a few hours later in the day, so we avoided the rain storm together before she had to depart. All in all, it was a treasured weekend. Do you have a special band of women in your life that strengthen, encourage and just “get” you? Take a moment to reach out and thank them for their investment in your life. We are lucky ladies to have each other, and girls, we gotta stick together!

City Musings: Ode to the Green Line

I take public transportation to work. It’s as grimy as it sounds.

DISCLAIMER: If you are my mother (or my mother-in-law), just stop reading. You will not like what is about to follow. Because although I am extremely thankful to take the Boston Subway (or MBTA, fondly known as “the T”) to work, I often encounter grimy-ness that can only be described as odious. Being squished up against strangers during rush hour, smelling their coffee breath, dodging their up-close and personal sneezes… it’s all a little stomach-wrenching. Especially in the wee hours of the morning. Actually, its equally as sick in the evening, too.

To be completely honest, I am thankful to live in a walking, community-oriented city that provides public transportation for its inhabitants. It’s a wild world out there (cue Cat Steven jam), and we are all just trying to find our way. Mostly to work, but occasionally our way also leads us to a new restaurant. Or bowling alley. I promise I’m not as grandmotherly as I sound (although, I have yet to gush about my new crochet project. Details to come.)

My personal work journey involves walking about 6 minutes to the T, taking two trains (red line, switch to the green line) and then walking about 6 more minutes to my office. Haymarket is one of my favorite stops, not necessarily because it leads me to my office, but it is also the stop that takes you to Boston’s historic Italian North End (to-die-for cannolis anyone?)

Hailing from Atlanta, where public transportation is only used by criminals (sorry MARTA), the initial thought of taking the subway to work just made laugh. With ironic glee. In Atlanta, my husband and I each had our own cars and frequently drove hundreds of miles per week. Just for life stuff. Church, family, work. In Georgia that’s just the norm. My new norm? I exist within about a 4-mile radius. And I never leave it. I have to attribute most of that to the MBTA. So as much as I complain about the T and its germ-laden handle bars, I am secretly relishing the city-girl lifestyle it provides me. And the lack of a car payment and insurance. Oh, and gas prices. I have stopped paying attention to gas prices. Don't cry, car owners.

One Sweet Day

What a lucky girl I am. In honor of Valentine's Day, I have been drinking my coffee (and reminiscing) on the lovely truth that I have always had a Valentine. Now before you get all judgmental on me, let me explain.

My parents always made sure that Valentines Day was a special day for me and my sisters. They were the most thoughtful, faithful Valentines who always made sure that their girls felt important and loved on this fine day. My dad always bought us ridiculous displays of flowers and candy. So much candy. And cards that were so sappy you would get a cavity just reading them. But what little girl DOESN'T want to hear how much her daddy loves her? Thankful. So thankful for him.

My mom would make us a delicious breakfast and have little Valentines gifts on the kitchen table, waiting to be opened. It was always something frivolous and unnecessary and simply wonderful - what every little girl wants. Lip gloss, pink pajamas, cute shoes, always something fun and pretty. My mom is such a style hound. Needless to say, after a morning of so much love and attention, what need was there to scamper off to school and hope that a boy takes notice in me or gives me a lame, school-bought carnation? There was no need.

Fast forward to 5 years ago. I was dating the love of my life and secretly plotting to get married at like, the age of 12. Just kidding. Sort of. But the honest truth is that I didn't have too many Valentines in between my adolescent years of being doted upon by my parents and the man I share all my days with now. And I am thankful. There is really no need for years of wishing for someone, anyone, to come along and woo your heart with empty words, cheesy cards, or overpriced flowers sprayed with preservatives. Here's to holding out and waiting for the best. So thankful for my faithful and kind husband this fine day. This morning we had a delicious berry pancake breakfast and coffee and that was the best kind of celebration to me.

I encourage you to call your mom, dad, aunt, grandpa, or best friend today and tell them how much you love them. These are the secret rock stars in your life - the ones who love you, support you, and give you a whole lot more than Russel Stover chocolates once a year. Bring on the Lindt.