Apple pie is the most comforting dessert to me. My great-grandmother used to make homemade pies in her tiny kitchen when we’d come to visit. Great Grammy would roll out the dough, fill the pie with chunky apple slices, and pop it in the oven before we’d arrive. She’d always save the leftover scraps of pie crust for my sisters and I. With a shake of cinnamon and sugar and a quick stay in the oven, the crispy strips were a preview of sweet things to come. Continue reading
Photo by JS
I considered calling this post, “Ode to the Chicken Biscuit: A 38-Part Series.” (And yes, I’ve tried that many.) I’m just that crazy about the combo of a juicy slab of chicken breast and a big fluffy biscuit. But, I digress… Continue reading
Photo by JS
I’m a huge fan of city art. In my room, I’ve got posters representing London, D.C., Paris, Louisville, and Chapel Hill. I’ve even got a poster from 20×200 of vintage luggage tags. So it should come to the surprise of no one that I’d figure out a way to frame my 2013 calendar by Florida’s Rifle Paper Co. that featured 12 beautiful illustrations of international cities. Continue reading
Instead of binge-watching season two of House of Cards like everyone else this weekend, I finally watched hours of the Winter Olympics: Skeleton, speed skating, ski jumping. From the commercials that pull at your heartstrings (18 million tears and counting) to the figure skating I adored way back during the days of Michelle Kwan (and that tennybopper Tara Lipinski), I love the Olympics and cheering for Team USA. I’m not sure how one figures out out that they are good at, say curling, or the gravity-defying ski jumping, but dang, these athletes are impressive. They put years and blood and sweat into their training, and they have a few short minutes to prove themselves. Their victories (or worse, anguishing defeats) are ours. Continue reading
Photo by JS
Patatas bravas are among my most favorite tapas. I’ve had them in Durham at Mateo, in Dublin at The Port House, and in D.C. at Jaleo. I’m sure I’ve even eaten them during one of my earlier trips to Spain. Made from fried potatoes and topped with aïoli and often a spicier red sauce, patatas bravas tend to vary from place to place but I’ve adored any and all that I’ve ever had.
Do you bleed blue? Let me rephrase that…
Do you bleed Carolina blue? Not powder blue. Not baby blue. And especially NOT Dook blue. If you’re a Carolina fan, you know there’s a difference. Continue reading
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