Foodie Penpals

Clearly I have been in a blogging rut.

It is not so much that I have nothing to write about it; in fact I have plenty of stories about late night Gossip Girl-watching sessions to visits to U-Street to free Sprinkles Cupcakes (actually all stories from just one night!). Unfortunately, however, since coming back from spring break I have been swamped with more time sensitive and, arguably, more important priorities (i.e. homework) that has kept me from posting. And while I did promise once again to make a conscious effort to blog, things like my thesis proposal, papers about Kant and newspaper production have kept me a little preoccupied.

Recognizing a need for some motivation and commitment to lure me back into the blogosphere, I stumbled upon the Foodie Penpals program. The brainchild of Lindsay Livingston at The Lean Green Bean, the project aims to connect food bloggers and readers beyond the World Wide Web through the exchange of food-filled care packages.

An Old-School Italian Cook

My aunt is a stereotypical, older Italian lady. She won’t leave the house without lipstick. She yells at her husband whenever she teases him. And of course, she can cook a mean gravy.

Most of my memories with my aunt come from visiting at her house by the beach in Rhode Island. Although she lives only 45 minutes away, 45 minutes of travel for Rhode Islanders is a long way. Because of this, I usually only saw my aunt and uncle a few of times a year. Once on Christmas Eve for the traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes and then maybe a couple of times in the summer when we wanted an escape to the beach. 

Resolving Again

Only 16 days into the new year and already I have failed.

Earlier this month I resolved to renew my blogging habits and write at least two to three posts a week. Yet, for those of you who might have noticed, this past week was without a single post. I will try, however, to rationalize my blogging absence.

2011: A Year in Review

Dear readers,

Are you there?  It’s me, Bethany.

I know it has been nearly five months since I sat down to blog, and there really is no excuse for it. These past five months have been some of the most challenging, amazing and rewarding times in my life, but writing that does little to relieve the fact that I did not share these experiences. Although I did contribute to the food blogging world with my posts for Small Kitchen College, I failed to keep up-to-date on my own personal blog. This failure is something I resolve to change in 2012.

No Ferragosto for Me

Can someone please tell me where the time went?

It seems like only yesterday the calendar turned to the year 2011, and then suddenly I woke up on Monday morning to the realization that it was August 1^st. Surely the summer cannot be almost over?

The Magnificence of the Capital

We all know I like to drop in on other people’s conversations to listen in on some aspect of their lives. While some exchanges are more interesting than others, a recent conversation overheard at a D.C. café made me pause and take notice.

After visiting one of the city’s museums, I stopped into a nearby bakery for an afternoon pick-me-up. As I took a seat in one of the chairs outside, I overheard the foreign accents of three girls at a table nearby. Although I could not identify their nationality, the subject of their conversation made it clear that they were foreign tourists visiting our nation’s capital.

A New [Midwest] Lover: Chicago

It has been almost a week since my last blog past. Though I made it my goal to post at least three times a week, I failed to live up to this in the past seven days. I do, however, have a valid reason for my blogging vacation.

After spending a few relaxing days at home enjoying family barbecues, the beach and even a Waterfire, my time expired in the Ocean State and I was airborne. But I was not D.C. bound; what awaited me was a new, exciting destination. For the first time I traveled to the Midwest and touched down in Chicago, Illinois.

A Remarkable Moveable Feast

It would be fitting that as I watched Woody Allen’s new film Midnight in Paris the only thing I could smell was butter.

Even if the butter was emanating from bags of popcorn, the scent of the fat made me think of all the wonderful French things made with the glorious churned milk. Crossiants, pain au chocolat, sole meunière, beurre blanc. Each of these heavenly items sparked memories of my few days in the capital of France.

When Ravioli was the Enemy

I have a secret I have to admit. Although I now feel like the reigning queen of all things Italian, including food, there was once a time when the idea of something wrapped in a tiny package, stuffed with cheese, and covered in sauce had no appeal to me.

I remember very clearly an evening at the dinner table when I was perhaps four or five years old. On my plate was a serving of ravioli, and there they rested for some time. Because my mom believed in the “you-either-eat-this-or-nothing” philosophy, I had very little choice but to succumb to the pressure of taking a bite of the Italian cheese pillows. I cannot recall what I thought after those initial bites, but I do remember the aftermath: me, isolated in the living room with a grape freeze pop watching as my mother cleaned up what remained of my dinner…on the floor. 

A Gift to You, Padre

I have read a lot of reflections written by sons and daughters about their favorite memories and words of advice from their fathers. From Luke Russert recounting the three lessons of life from his dad, the late Meet the Press anchor Tim Russert, to Robert McCartney in the Washington Post immortalizing his father’s legacy, it seems everywhere I looked this week I found stories of fathers. With such overwhelming regret within me for having to spend my first Father’s Day away from my dad, I thought a great gift to him would be my own written account of what he means to me.