tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79933555612544066972024-03-18T05:48:15.910-04:00F for FoodElliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.comBlogger290125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-89412810712967327872018-12-27T15:32:00.000-05:002018-12-28T10:48:57.238-05:00Chrysalis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxXH3l2aWvvf1zaOcEZ4wNpB2a1D2EeGMLFHO7br1UOh6Cu_6GMeG7HtEIYVcGUOqwim-S_39H_TX2L45_GP2MxaQi9tz80zJVnTmQMsndP8GucPoKy4bb2cemsiCD7ofPjvo_q5o_LBM/s1600/2018-12-21-Rioja5413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxXH3l2aWvvf1zaOcEZ4wNpB2a1D2EeGMLFHO7br1UOh6Cu_6GMeG7HtEIYVcGUOqwim-S_39H_TX2L45_GP2MxaQi9tz80zJVnTmQMsndP8GucPoKy4bb2cemsiCD7ofPjvo_q5o_LBM/s640/2018-12-21-Rioja5413.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Late last summer while snipping some parsley for dinner, I was startled to find what seemed like hundreds of bright green, yellow and black caterpillars blanketing the plants. The sight had me both repulsed and fascinated - totally transfixed. I remembered having bought a little pink butterfly cage in the ‘impulse-buy-cheap-things-for-your-children’ section of Target that spring and decided to adopt a couple of them for Emerson to observe.</span></span><br>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2018/12/chrysalis.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-39024621250993956832018-01-13T13:43:00.000-05:002018-01-14T13:20:02.892-05:00Cakewalk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is the first winter I didn’t dread approaching. I wasn't even salty about the last week of single digit temperatures, snow, ice and school closings. I realize I’ve only been back in a state that even </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">has</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a winter for four short years, but still. One reason, I’m hot a lot. In fact, is it hot in here?. Another reason, I think, we did so much traveling through the summer and fall that I’ve just wanted to nestle in - as much as our apartment makes me tremendously claustrophobic. I’ve become, like, so high maintenance.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2018/01/cakewalk.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-14013174865507851052017-09-04T15:09:00.002-04:002017-09-04T16:05:16.040-04:00You Ain't Goin' Nowhere<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Those are not my words. They belong to Joan Didion. But when I stumbled across them recently, I felt that familiar, almost forgotten, tug. Why I write. Why I wrote. Why I kept journals from childhood to adulthood, why I had, have, a blog, why I’m writing this. I unpack my thoughts and feelings, deconstruct them, understand them, via the written word. I often go back through the journals and blog posts to recall how I took on life, how I took on myself, when I wrote those words.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2017/09/you-aint-goin-nowhere.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com13Richmond, Va37.160316546736773 -78.398437511.775852546736772 -119.7070315 62.544780546736774 -37.0898435tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-61260010382974220402016-12-13T17:13:00.003-05:002016-12-15T12:27:01.486-05:00Phyllis<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not long ago, I was doing my weekly volunteer work for </span><a href="https://feedmore.org/volunteer" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">Meals on Wheels</a><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">, delivering food and whatnot, and the most unexpected thing happened. </span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2016/12/phyllis.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-47832346770350039862016-11-11T13:32:00.002-05:002016-11-11T19:10:49.869-05:00To my family,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, to my readers,</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i style="color: #454545;"><i>It's been some time since I've written. But, for me, our country's election results have caused family and politics to cross. As a result, I felt strongly that I needed to put some words "to paper." These words could very well be relevant with regard to differences many of you may be having with your own family, friends, neighbors or co-workers in lieu of recent events.</i></i></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i style="color: #454545;"><i>So I thought I would share them here...</i> </i></span><br>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">To my family,</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ever since I can remember my family has been of paramount significance and importance in my life. Mom and Dad, obviously. But aunts, uncles, cousins, first, second, and third, grandparents, every single one of you, I looked forward to seeing, catching up with, sharing a meal every Christmas Eve, and now, just any time I can get. I have greeted all of you, </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all of you</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, with smiles, hugs and love each and every time I have seen you throughout the forty-two years of my life. </span></span></span></div>
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</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2016/11/to-my-family.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-66741990402395133172016-10-04T16:38:00.002-04:002016-10-06T09:53:24.538-04:00Go, go Galette<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just dug up this beautiful personal project Fred and I did this past summer. We made a galette (and took pictures of it). For the life of me, I don't think I had ever made one before. We went about it using </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">my mom’s pie crust recipe and adding a liberal sprinkling of sugar and cinnamon into the dough. Then spring-boarding from a</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><a href="http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/12723-nectarine-or-peach-and-blackberry-galette" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NYT Cooking</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> recipe for the rest, we were all set.</span><br>
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</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2016/10/helloitsme.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-70213016273645538262016-04-25T12:42:00.000-04:002016-08-27T16:31:07.942-04:00The Salad Days *part 2*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Do we know when we're in the salad days when they are happening or is it always something we reflect back on with great wistful fondness? I mean, I mostly know when life is hitting all of the high notes. When things are good. But I'm not sure I know when it's time to revel. To spin around on top of a grassy mountain top and exude <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AePRD1Ud3Lw" target="_blank">Sound of Music</a> exaltation.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank">Don't you like when the winter's gone?</a></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">And all of a sudden it starts gettin' warm?</span></i></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trees and the grass start lookin' fresh,</span></i></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the sun and sky be lookin' their best.</span></i></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Birds be singin', flowers be bloomin',</span></i></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuIAcZ_BS64&nohtml5=False" target="_blank">A lot of brand new cars be zoomin'.</a><span style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 16px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, Biz - and thank you for that - it is, in fact, Spring again.</span><br>
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</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2016/04/the-salad-days-part-1.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-49648786987827992822016-02-22T13:37:00.000-05:002016-08-27T16:28:52.812-04:00Stand by me, this big chill.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNsgTNMIEWet4ScQGkwD-RORDKMFsyNVMEMNhEDCBzNpWhX9JR3g90OUgvY0P6hfXUdNwBiseQZ8k6UEK0APkJIcmKvS_OEyX-NFT_r_uevs9pvFmMvFYYid7Q7d6UXSPXSqefyN93uX-/s1600/2016-2-15-R+for+Ramen7199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNsgTNMIEWet4ScQGkwD-RORDKMFsyNVMEMNhEDCBzNpWhX9JR3g90OUgvY0P6hfXUdNwBiseQZ8k6UEK0APkJIcmKvS_OEyX-NFT_r_uevs9pvFmMvFYYid7Q7d6UXSPXSqefyN93uX-/s640/2016-2-15-R+for+Ramen7199.jpg" width="426"></span></a></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-716fa5cb-ffc1-d6f8-c730-1e71843fbf11"></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Right around the holidays I got news that a high school friend died. Took her own life. I hadn’t thought about her in years, but I remember her well. She was one of those people you don’t easily forget. </span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2016/02/stand-by-me-this-big-chill.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-13413581186783749702015-12-23T17:53:00.004-05:002016-12-17T21:04:57.962-05:00Toy Story<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/AVvXsEjNrBJCk1RTMxXsU91BjE8Q7zKAaaxMCymTf50_S8bLdnl7B3Z_ocX56UG0ketPApqJcPc6SDqyGZYH2EWWziHWgMK__UuyRwhQ87vcv16UGxtDAiqpxJXgb5YB2KBrCZgH2ZpRi47TlycD/s1600/DSC_1663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrBJCk1RTMxXsU91BjE8Q7zKAaaxMCymTf50_S8bLdnl7B3Z_ocX56UG0ketPApqJcPc6SDqyGZYH2EWWziHWgMK__UuyRwhQ87vcv16UGxtDAiqpxJXgb5YB2KBrCZgH2ZpRi47TlycD/s640/DSC_1663.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">'Tis the apex of Holiday-Orama. I just
recovered from some weird twenty-four hour stomach bug that was
pretty unpleasant. Fred too. Even Emerson had some little nannyboosky
situation in addition to her newly ever present runny nose. But, it's
now Christmas Eve Eve, and we all three seem to be prepared for
the big day, full bore. Go Team.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/12/toystory.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-80466239072387068402015-11-09T15:14:00.000-05:002016-08-27T16:25:25.206-04:00Lay, Lady, Lay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2reImOS3aY8iV-YikHx4JUJStoNlgGPoQjdme0-gQLZdQiIhE__9pDOZUej4tNauMxs12s1hWI0W3aDQXkNKXzrGA9SY8b6COfwnt21cF8dMIV_598foqdENWkzjOhpzxPDOFAwjja0Q/s1600/DSC_9756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2reImOS3aY8iV-YikHx4JUJStoNlgGPoQjdme0-gQLZdQiIhE__9pDOZUej4tNauMxs12s1hWI0W3aDQXkNKXzrGA9SY8b6COfwnt21cF8dMIV_598foqdENWkzjOhpzxPDOFAwjja0Q/s640/DSC_9756.jpg" width="640"></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As an adult you don't really <i>consider</i>
your friends' parents a whole lot (do you even know their names?),
but as a kid, they can potentially have about as much impact, as much
influence as your own. Especially if it's like your <i>BFF</i>.
Countless sleepovers, after school times that run into dinner times,
tagging along on family trips, our friends' parents had to feed us,
care for us, love us (or pretend to), discipline us, very, very
often. Think about it, on sitcoms there is almost always the
omnipresent neighbor or friend who is part of the every day fabric of
the protagonist family.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/11/layladylay.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-75160964915872933042015-09-23T11:29:00.001-04:002016-08-27T16:23:32.774-04:00Chester Copperpot.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLytV7HkSfsQdMai5rUaQAiaEtDIaLSLNuntKV95q-jLJDE3H6uP1tdV8QgUpvmrNAovvvdXppWQfg1oVXHmt8ZRdOHhaIi8gaGAXnc1t4_ymPTpcmYDAdJnEFUEFLBcWjGFLN0Oy2mkV/s1600/DSC_8639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLytV7HkSfsQdMai5rUaQAiaEtDIaLSLNuntKV95q-jLJDE3H6uP1tdV8QgUpvmrNAovvvdXppWQfg1oVXHmt8ZRdOHhaIi8gaGAXnc1t4_ymPTpcmYDAdJnEFUEFLBcWjGFLN0Oy2mkV/s640/DSC_8639.jpg" width="480"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">One
both wonderful and maddening thing about living in a part of the
world with four distinct seasons is that by the end of each one I am
waiting with bated breath for the next. The anticipation and
preliminary elation over the change of each season is thrilling and,
in my book well earned. That's the wonderful part. But the being<i>
like</i> <i>so over </i>a season before it ends is a bummer. </span>
</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/09/chestercopperpot.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-3457516665455116672015-08-29T12:32:00.001-04:002016-08-27T16:20:42.751-04:00I'm OK, You're OK.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEOL9oXo4817J4sZ-FVl7a65COMSNIVBJ4PnnNfxwSbqoQyVi27pKjwxdfZLdi5UjgGpUzg332e2McxZF3E2bx04DZE9F4N8kY2Op5CcsbCcuVIbFXeeyGL0ao9FHkDTOcHZmdMHY_Koc/s1600/6-23-15+Laurel+Herman0957+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEOL9oXo4817J4sZ-FVl7a65COMSNIVBJ4PnnNfxwSbqoQyVi27pKjwxdfZLdi5UjgGpUzg332e2McxZF3E2bx04DZE9F4N8kY2Op5CcsbCcuVIbFXeeyGL0ao9FHkDTOcHZmdMHY_Koc/s640/6-23-15+Laurel+Herman0957+1.jpg" width="512"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This past week I had a really weird day. Wednesday, over my morning coffee and email catch-up, news broke that a reporter
and photographer for a Virginia news affiliate were gunned down,
killed. It happened near the town where my parents and some close
friends are from, where a good deal of my family live, and a place
I've spent my whole life visiting. Each time these almost commonplace
gun massacres occur, I've been thrown and emotional, but this one was
closer to home. Both literally, and maybe because of the whole media
sphere association.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A few minutes later I got a call from
the doctor informing me that the results of my very recent mammogram
came back and a couple things didn't look quite right. That sinking
feeling. I was able to make a same-day appointment so the doctors
could take another, a closer look.
</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/08/imokyoureok.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-71215893039647111602015-08-03T19:44:00.001-04:002016-08-27T16:19:46.590-04:00Goodnight Tomato.<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/AVvXsEjS07qNeF3Voq7H26Imcl4NeFsNH8UJ4D3ls4eZo4hLIX2Pg6RG9QVb3rxdpuETANJnAnAY2uoiKMq-FoBtWD87eslyHqn8iqKETa7yXViP7WoGMzmardgX7GdDbB0VRe0AN14z_8AswtLH/s1600/8-1-15+Carrots+for+FForFood1687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS07qNeF3Voq7H26Imcl4NeFsNH8UJ4D3ls4eZo4hLIX2Pg6RG9QVb3rxdpuETANJnAnAY2uoiKMq-FoBtWD87eslyHqn8iqKETa7yXViP7WoGMzmardgX7GdDbB0VRe0AN14z_8AswtLH/s640/8-1-15+Carrots+for+FForFood1687.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I still want to do everything. Though I
have Emerson and I'm not yet willing to spend a single night away
from her, I still want to do all of the things. That I want to do.
Within reason. My late nights partying in heels and stand and model
clothes are gone. And I am happy – relieved – about that. Most
evenings my preference is to eat in, watch my stories on TV and go to
bed early. But the wanderlust, the hunger to travel, explore,
adventure, that's still there. As long as Emerson can go with me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So when my friend, Jess, recently asked
me to zip off to Atlanta for a couple of days, primarily to check out
a tomato festival there – and Emerson was totally welcome – the
answer was a pauseless yes. It sounded perfectly reasonable. <a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2014/10/piece-of-cake.html" target="_blank">A few days out of town</a>, a little road trippin' with a friend and my baby
girl, a tomato festival – all on my old turf.
</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
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<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/08/goodnight-tomato.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-85893522010977894992015-07-03T17:03:00.000-04:002016-08-27T16:18:53.509-04:00Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/4036561/?claim=kuubp7t6gz6">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXzPwN5v3LVT14CHI8x5N3hO0G-clFTBQwQTCpfZ_vHKhjHt8tJSWvyU5rhdWBAGcBMQN0p9H_pwOTPZgwQ71dUimBJw7S7bMq0x_ugWfVZ648aWCLHKxHbQrnejB0yLPXWP5lrQrT10C/s1600/6-26-15+LHGG+Ice+Cream+Sandwich1080+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXzPwN5v3LVT14CHI8x5N3hO0G-clFTBQwQTCpfZ_vHKhjHt8tJSWvyU5rhdWBAGcBMQN0p9H_pwOTPZgwQ71dUimBJw7S7bMq0x_ugWfVZ648aWCLHKxHbQrnejB0yLPXWP5lrQrT10C/s640/6-26-15+LHGG+Ice+Cream+Sandwich1080+1.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">I'm going to be
brief today, but I want to give a big nod to the history we've made in the past few weeks here in the US of A. Healthcare and
marriage for everyone! Punching it in with Cuba! BP has to eat it, big time! And a birthday! No, it hasn't all been positive. Some
extraordinarily sad stuff has happened as well. But the optimist in
me is hoping it all leads to a Greater Good. Movement forward. For
the first time since I entered college, voted in my first
presidential election and had my vote count (when Bill Clinton won
his first term), I feel hopeful for, and a little proud, of my country. I
feel like I'm a part of it; a rare emic approach to my United States.
Doesn't it kind of feel like we're in the middle of a “<i>Mercy Mercy Me</i>” or “<i>Turn! Turn! Turn!</i>” video? Like, it's all
happening. Now.</span><br>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/07/trulyoutrageous.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-3529324436491926302015-06-15T16:56:00.001-04:002016-08-27T16:17:32.769-04:00The Speed of the Sound of Loneliness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FQjCHYifNNvH0Vb2BZYyxt6kn6fu3joDG3RMg5U3JkAMdGAMOcc5KUWHXRXedJLKzqtnrBPFhwFj12MnI-Vpldbc4U6CDHJlGWvTmM5vptR3tV7l1mZJg_4OLZSNWP82RbIChE3o18JT/s1600/burgers+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FQjCHYifNNvH0Vb2BZYyxt6kn6fu3joDG3RMg5U3JkAMdGAMOcc5KUWHXRXedJLKzqtnrBPFhwFj12MnI-Vpldbc4U6CDHJlGWvTmM5vptR3tV7l1mZJg_4OLZSNWP82RbIChE3o18JT/s640/burgers+2.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Man alive. Crack an egg on the
blacktop because Summer is here, folks. This past week it's been far
too hot – even with the air conditioning – to consider using the
oven, also too hot to step out into the elements to
grill. Plus, The Mosquitos are coming. Since my visual cooling aid,
Game of Thrones (its Winter hath finally cometh), has wrapped things
up for the year (RIP <a href="http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Jon_Snow" target="_blank">Jon Snow</a>), I may very well have to seek out
some Dr. Zhivago. All three and half hours of it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not complaining. Well, I am. But
also, I'm not. I love Summer. I love all of my memories of Summers.
But the thing is, those impressions I recall, when I really dissect
them, were all before age twenty-five. Every damn one. The wistful
recollections of cicada-filled dusks, leaping off twenty-foot high
rocks into the river at night with reckless abandon, sitting out on my back deck in a tee shirt and
cutoff shorts watching a thunderstorm, scampering around a field of
grass at dusk trying to catch fireflies, camping with my friends in
the woods, on the beach. I was wild and free. I know the smells,
sounds and sights of those Summers like I know my own reflection.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/06/speed-of-sound.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-77140279314534341402015-06-01T11:00:00.000-04:002016-08-27T16:16:32.993-04:00Beyond The Boom<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ah-swGeDVx6Xhq2KM9EXEbplfVSPs8aX-6OrscG2mvMoMEOBspl3nYBDqwRfA-yggmHUc31zsdHH_uER8eLPEuQkpSrKVqEmXZUm8C8z-FIclpG8_flOxnpqatoF_3Ng1EZb9x_DPZX-/s1600/RosewaterHeroCropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ah-swGeDVx6Xhq2KM9EXEbplfVSPs8aX-6OrscG2mvMoMEOBspl3nYBDqwRfA-yggmHUc31zsdHH_uER8eLPEuQkpSrKVqEmXZUm8C8z-FIclpG8_flOxnpqatoF_3Ng1EZb9x_DPZX-/s640/RosewaterHeroCropped.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The
day after college graduation – the middle of the night, actually –
my boyfriend and I packed up our dorm room, our then everything, loaded my car and drove to Atlanta to begin our adult lives together. We
were a couple through most of college, lived in and backpacked
throughout Mexico, traveled to Philadelphia to protest in support of
<a href="http://www.freemumia.com/" target="_blank">Mumia Abu Jamal</a>, to Cleveland to protest against the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contract_with_America" target="_blank">Contract With America</a>, to anywhere we could see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv8lx1UlST8" target="_blank">De La Soul</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJCHeEQV454" target="_blank">The Roots</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3s4F9BZiWj8" target="_blank">Poor Righteous Teachers,</a> and the like. We journeyed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After
about a year or so in Atlanta, we were pretty settled into our new
post-college, kind of grown up lives. We lived in a sweet, little
duplex, got a kitten we named <a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2011/04/for-milo-who-now-knows-way.html" target="_blank">Milo</a>, and a plant or two. We had lots
of good friends, and his family; a network. I worked in a so, so cool
video store, and his DJing was picking up traction. We had the
perfect, fun, action-packed and inspired early-twenties life.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>
<br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/06/theboom.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-50015374056272050222015-05-21T11:10:00.002-04:002016-08-27T16:15:42.637-04:00Getting to the Meat of Things.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJhz8I8UAtXYUviMtAwX-wH6JCcpFA7EcwSZcI1vyPM9L0gbE1MA9YqVt1OJa26OK2vESXa1l8PEylnITfHjUjb9j3v_CQfMW64z2cZtrRlD8FcUNj7yybrAvMl9ASLw1g8XtGJZidhyq/s1600/T-Bone+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJhz8I8UAtXYUviMtAwX-wH6JCcpFA7EcwSZcI1vyPM9L0gbE1MA9YqVt1OJa26OK2vESXa1l8PEylnITfHjUjb9j3v_CQfMW64z2cZtrRlD8FcUNj7yybrAvMl9ASLw1g8XtGJZidhyq/s640/T-Bone+2.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was recently in Chicago for a few
days. My friend, Emma, was there for a business conference with her baby, Samuel,
who happens to be precisely one week older than Emerson. Emma and I
attended college together, which included a three-month
'co-op' in LA. She was a nanny in the Pacific Palisades. I, despite
everyone's best efforts, could not get a paying job. So I crashed on
the futon-couch-thing at Emma's friend's apartment in Brentwood – a
stone's throw from where Nicole Brown Simpson had only just been <a href="http://www.findadeath.com/Deceased/s/OJ%20Simpson/nicole_brown_simpson_and_ron_gol.htm" target="_blank">murdered</a> (the police tape was still up). I ended
up working for free doing script coverages for Oliver Stone's
production company, and was even an extra in <i>Nixon</i>. I played a
sleeping hippie on the steps of the 'Lincoln Memorial' who was oh so
rudely awakened when Nixon and whoever James Woods played walked past
me. Regardless of being in so so shiny Heidi Fleiss-y LA in my early
twenties, the intrigue of being in such close vicinity to the most
humongous murder scene since Manson days <i>and</i> the seemingly
cool Hollywoody-ness of the Oliver Stone/<i>Nixon</i> stuff, I was
miserable. By the end of that Summer, I vowed never to return to the
vapid cesspool commonly referred to as Los Angeles.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/05/getting-to-meat-of-things.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-58344072681641412502015-04-28T14:41:00.000-04:002016-08-27T16:14:28.978-04:00Collaboration Station + A GIVEAWAY!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9cCcWZT_0q1X2xwui6x-IIJtwLWnM6lz_fpW39IgHgJBbPaRqDserp6I2eGvYzxy-dMZYDJXE2YNC9HZgyEI74BgLNnl6wC4yoxHLy5RBcaeCAotKQicvQ9j1HqcgtDu6i66NMK9JEmG/s1600/4-25-15+Garibaldi+Shoot0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbWpB6H_ncCDYg2OK4VJeyOIixx-K9KBomniC52rFDqueACW6VuoyvscSJiSvzz64CFDlk0DD_M7Sc0RimhPjqdUxf5MtdKKnOD1snnSYydU0jCj24w7_pvteYDGQd0I0zrqCtPBOQbg2/s1600/4-25-15+Garibaldi+Shoot0615+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbWpB6H_ncCDYg2OK4VJeyOIixx-K9KBomniC52rFDqueACW6VuoyvscSJiSvzz64CFDlk0DD_M7Sc0RimhPjqdUxf5MtdKKnOD1snnSYydU0jCj24w7_pvteYDGQd0I0zrqCtPBOQbg2/s1600/4-25-15+Garibaldi+Shoot0615+1.jpg" width="640"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Beginning with my last trimester of
pregnancy to just a few months ago (almost a year now), I have had a
really hard time finding my written voice. What is usually cathartic,
(en)lightening, and fluid has been an uphill - two miles each way, in
the snow, barefoot – battle. As a result, there has been a glaring
dearth of content and, worse, I feel like I haven't given you, or me,
what we want to find or come away with here.</span><br>
<br></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/04/fforfood-collaboration-giveaway.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-31687284908199636032015-04-23T11:17:00.000-04:002015-05-21T11:39:30.197-04:00Grill Your Garden.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJr-Kmq3yXCgXmjF846EXpMlsCoGRtF0vIMY7gvvxcU71d2XD9QEevlQ1klxOgGbBPfL69CYIdXaTyvp9hMDOIcla-ihTciblJgw2blGJFum5ciVXcQK4zI9C3_tGNBPcF2nnxFFBmXIyz/s1600/LHGG-Grilled+Veg-3-30-150536+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJr-Kmq3yXCgXmjF846EXpMlsCoGRtF0vIMY7gvvxcU71d2XD9QEevlQ1klxOgGbBPfL69CYIdXaTyvp9hMDOIcla-ihTciblJgw2blGJFum5ciVXcQK4zI9C3_tGNBPcF2nnxFFBmXIyz/s1600/LHGG-Grilled+Veg-3-30-150536+(1).jpg" width="640"></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Emerson
Rose is almost ten months-old. Just like that. Crawling, laughing,
'talking', responding, acting, reacting, selecting, loving and
eating. This kid <i>loves</i> to eat. She's amazing. Almost as amazing: Spring
has finally arrived - sunshine, warmth, green, flowers, short
sleeves. As she was born late last Summer and spent her first few
months being teeny tiny, and fragile indoors, Emerson has not yet
been able to be IN the air. And what better a time for her to be with
all this exploring and adventuring she's getting into. She squeals
with delight swinging on the swing, is fascinated with the sandbox
(and it's apparently very delicious sand), and the grass (with it's
equally palatable dandelions), and is 100% happy on any and all walks
in the stroller. And, man alive, this girl is head over heels for
baths and swimming. We're even inflating the baby pool this week!</span></span><br>
<br></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/04/grill-your-garden.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-38475531555351172772015-02-11T19:06:00.002-05:002016-08-27T16:11:48.204-04:00The Ethos of Eros.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGP5PLQFHYaAJBFtOHU1l40mAhCVL7HFAOtRQ2vYR-4ZxNCxmhAUvUwkhvDnuPN1W0CUIpylsfZv5yKrIqo2_fSHhDI1Afw4cIDPDhQImJvChKUSbnxUP7yVbBiWXaSnH7zjqEtt7thH6f/s1600/1-29-15-LHGG+Valentines0342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGP5PLQFHYaAJBFtOHU1l40mAhCVL7HFAOtRQ2vYR-4ZxNCxmhAUvUwkhvDnuPN1W0CUIpylsfZv5yKrIqo2_fSHhDI1Afw4cIDPDhQImJvChKUSbnxUP7yVbBiWXaSnH7zjqEtt7thH6f/s1600/1-29-15-LHGG+Valentines0342.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<br>
Valentine's Day has some significance
for almost everyone. I know I have experienced practically every
variation of this day of Cupid throughout my life. I can still
remember running home from elementary school with my arms overflowing
with those precious little cards with illustrations like squirrels
saying, “I'm pining for you!,” signed by each kid in my class.
And, of course, the little candy hearts with the text... 'Be Mine'.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My dad always tried to step up on
Valentine's Day. One year, I was about thirteen, he gave me a red
rose and a postcard with an image of The Beatles that read;
'Scooterhead, Happy V Day from the Fab Four! Love, Big D.' Oh,
<i>Daaaad</i>... As an adult, there have been traditional romantic
dinners and getaways with loved ones, the anti-Valentine's Days with
friends, vodka and <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00jm3ms"><i>Absolutely
Fabulous</i></a> marathons, and just as significant, a year (maybe
more than one) single and snuggled up tightly with my dog, Besito,
watching <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0050105/">An Affair
to Remember</a> (ok, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332280/">The
Notebook</a>),</i> with a bottle of Bordeaux and a box of chocolates
(a <i>pupcake</i> for Besito). Sobbing. (Well, it is THE most romantic movie
EVER.)<br>
<br></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-ethos-of-eros.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-74742579188171980132015-01-19T22:19:00.003-05:002016-08-27T16:10:16.251-04:00Me vs. Cleanse: 2015<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOL-_nlkqt-kX7escT7gV_NnX4creobjku9uegLB9w2zHxZq3z_WQdY4DXYCNRDj61u1RJOnQmIwZOAByZZbNPtrjynV9H79VedPnSLrvc0sxEd5A2Bqbgcojjlvn5K6R96cGNlb_76yXe/s1600/1-18-14-FFF-FoodLoversCleanse0291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOL-_nlkqt-kX7escT7gV_NnX4creobjku9uegLB9w2zHxZq3z_WQdY4DXYCNRDj61u1RJOnQmIwZOAByZZbNPtrjynV9H79VedPnSLrvc0sxEd5A2Bqbgcojjlvn5K6R96cGNlb_76yXe/s1600/1-18-14-FFF-FoodLoversCleanse0291.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two weeks of 'cleansing' has come to a
triumphant conclusion. It hardly felt like a cleanse. I was never hungry and
I never had any insurmountable cravings. I truly was sated. In fact,
the portions were often so plentiful I couldn't finish some meals –
even skipped some scheduled afternoon snacks and desserts. Which, I
believe, makes up for the bit of cheating on the wine consumption. I
didn't drink tons, but maintained a glass or two each evening. I cut
myself some slack on that, especially considering I swapped morning
coffee for tea. And I love, need, my morning coffee. These days, with
the baby and not much sleep, I feel that I <i>need</i> coffee to <i>make</i>
coffee. But no, it has been tea. With almond milk and occasionally
agave nectar. Meh.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/01/me-vs-cleanse-2015.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-32840049476497192252015-01-04T21:51:00.000-05:002016-08-27T16:09:14.930-04:00This is Forty.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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/AVvXsEjlN_0-v1QpcjxCVQOPBPlFroPYy6JVa6vAIAVs1BTi5RsuKaJTvqfd6Na_sBvDu1bz0oG4IcAUEH9mKcGfI0DLawyaFyIh_m2rd1Cpo8GslJFFwGYxeywwc2AcRGqWDBsuBJKOKpeX_Y5m/s1600/1-3-15+Chocolate+Dipped+Shortbread0257+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlN_0-v1QpcjxCVQOPBPlFroPYy6JVa6vAIAVs1BTi5RsuKaJTvqfd6Na_sBvDu1bz0oG4IcAUEH9mKcGfI0DLawyaFyIh_m2rd1Cpo8GslJFFwGYxeywwc2AcRGqWDBsuBJKOKpeX_Y5m/s1600/1-3-15+Chocolate+Dipped+Shortbread0257+1.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a new year. Happy New Year. I've
never been one to make resolutions. I don't like to have hard and fast rules
for myself. And yet I seem to constantly <i>make</i> hard and fast
rules for myself. But never with food or wine; the ones that usually end
up on a lot of people's resolution list. I did do <a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2012/09/dr-strangecleanse.html" target="_blank">that cleanse</a>
once...
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But this year is a little different.
Between the move, the pregnancy, the having of the baby, and the life
of one who has a baby, I have not exercised much at all. I bought a
bike a few days before I found out I was pregnant and I think I can
count on one hand the number of times I've ridden it in over a year. And now it's
Winter again. And though I eat well – fresh, local, organic - I
haven't practiced a lot of control with portions and cravings. I've
craved a lot of <a href="http://instagram.com/p/vj-yPeQKVE/?modal=true" target="_blank">red meat</a>. I've craved a lot of <a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2014/10/piece-of-cake.html" target="_blank">cake</a>.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh, and in the middle of all of this I
turned forty.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2015/01/this-is-forty.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-88850562069529526802014-11-25T21:55:00.002-05:002016-08-27T16:08:06.945-04:00Field of Dreams<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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/AVvXsEhoCHxo03Jaf1s926WW3V4c1RuW_qoPnpZzat-JaIhWd3oTRLgFutSOB9C_1_9c6RvGPo6l6GvsQB7eitpt2wRz-rRS4tAo_GsEu1LpCcTf-LlckWBz2uK5XVTPB4OqH0s47Z02lNMABZA1/s1600/Farroto0284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCHxo03Jaf1s926WW3V4c1RuW_qoPnpZzat-JaIhWd3oTRLgFutSOB9C_1_9c6RvGPo6l6GvsQB7eitpt2wRz-rRS4tAo_GsEu1LpCcTf-LlckWBz2uK5XVTPB4OqH0s47Z02lNMABZA1/s1600/Farroto0284.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While I am patently aware of the dearth
of new content on F for Food, it nonetheless hit me hard to receive an
e-mail last week with an offer to buy the blog. Someone clearly took
notice of the lack of activity and exhibited interest in taking it
over and 're-aliving' it, so to speak.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well folks, F for Food isn't for sale.
Even though I have not been able to find the time to put the
proverbial pen to paper consistently for over a year, I really,
really plan to. I think about it all the time. Not only did this blog
keep me relatively sane, relatively grounded, during some very bumpy
periods for half of a decade in LA, but it has also been huge part of
my identity, my creative outlet, my escape, my happiness and, now, my
new career.
</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2014/11/field-of-dreams.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993355561254406697.post-47003513810973264862014-10-20T18:17:00.003-04:002016-10-20T13:09:51.608-04:00Piece of Cake.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNTKS4wniUgFYpLzc1iSTbXU8qVbK4-ixk9ZrEy5DFlCvJ-c_mrFZiOMA5suHj0R29KWKuC3AXPRN1HGiXDYdt4GQoNpel-iMiyZgIONysoxtXGwbzlEJFsd_WO5A-S8w7c1GAH8De_fG/s1600/Coconut+Cake0489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNTKS4wniUgFYpLzc1iSTbXU8qVbK4-ixk9ZrEy5DFlCvJ-c_mrFZiOMA5suHj0R29KWKuC3AXPRN1HGiXDYdt4GQoNpel-iMiyZgIONysoxtXGwbzlEJFsd_WO5A-S8w7c1GAH8De_fG/s1600/Coconut+Cake0489.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ever since Emerson was born I have felt
my own insistence to get her to Roanoke to meet her, my, extended
family. And then one night recently, my new friend, <a href="http://www.theapplecartcompany.com/" target="_blank">Stephanie</a>, and I were talking and
getting to know one another over some food and wine and words and I
discovered she grew up in Roanoke. She spoke of writing a Roanoke
food roundup sort of thing. And, like that, my brain went all <a href="http://blog.codinghorror.com/content/images/uploads/2005/04/6a0120a85dcdae970b0128776fae11970c-pi.png" target="_blank">Rube Goldberg</a>. It was perfect. Emerson and I would drive to Roanoke for a
beautiful Fall weekend; mother and daughter, on our first - just us -
trip together. We would visit our whole family, everyone would ooh
and ahh over her <i>and</i> I would meet up with Stephanie for wine
and food and ten cent words about said wine and food. Like I said, <i>perfect</i>.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What could possibly go wrong?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br>
</div><a href="http://fforfood.blogspot.com/2014/10/piece-of-cake.html#more">READ MORE</a>Elliotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18083369085572145271noreply@blogger.com0