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I got my second Moderna vaccine yesterday, and I expected to feel as relieved and thrilled as when I got the first one. Even when the woman standing behind the wheelie cart, which looked like an airline attendant handing out Bloody Marys, said, “Congratulations on getting your life back!” I didn’t smile or even say thank you.

Six weeks ago, I had some serious vaccine envy as I watched not only older people but people my age or younger getting vaccinated. I kept thinking, when the fuck is it going to be my turn? I have high risks wtf? I was chomping at the bit, feeling pretty selfish.

I held my breath when Marty and I signed me up and felt so grateful I actually had an appointment. I started doing the math to when I would get my life back and did a happy dance. 

As I sat there yesterday, waiting for the 15 minutes to be up to make sure I was ok, staring at the clock and couldn’t wait to leave. When we left for my appointment, I left with my head in my ass, making sure that I had my covid vaccine card. I kept checking to make sure it was in my wallet and that I didn’t lose it; I get like this with airline tickets and my passport. I know, I know…OCD. 

I was so focused on the vaccination card that I left my cell phone on the kitchen counter. I realized it halfway to Bennington, and it annoyed the ever-living crap out of me. How could I leave my phone at home? What if I needed it! A million what-ifs ran through my head. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about taking a selfie like I did the first time. What was wrong with me? 

Maybe, I felt different because instead of the person giving me my vaccine telling me my arm will be sore later, she rattled off a list of things I should expect and what to do. As more and more people are vaccinated, they have more information to share, which is good, of course. 

Maybe, I was more worried this time from all the headaches I had for 3 weeks following my injection with elevated blood pressure. We don’t even know if they were caused by the vaccine because there is no data yet. 

Maybe, my mind and body were just so tired from all the stress that Covid-19 has caused us all that my emotions shut down and just collapsed. I don’t know…

Maybe, thinking non-stop about myself or my family and friends getting the virus, watching in horror how many people lost their lives and family members, worrying about the long-term side effects of having covid or the vaccines. I also worried that we wouldn’t have a business after all of it is over. Praying that this would really be over.

I got my injection at 3 pm, and by 6:15 pm, I was so tired I needed to lay down. I was in bed by 7:30 pm. I kept dozing on and off until finally falling asleep around 11:30 pm. 

I woke up this morning exhausted with a sore arm; there is no safe way to work in the production kitchen feeling like this. I’ll take everyone’s advice and get some rest and stay hydrated. When I got out of bed, I was relieved that I didn’t wake up with a headache like last time or fever, chills, or flu-like symptoms. Thank goodness! Yay! 

I am truly grateful that I/we are getting vaccinated and getting our lives back. The stress and anticipation of it all left me feeling completely drained as if I got dragged behind a truck that I didn’t see coming; I thought I’d be doing a jig or cartwheels. Either way, hopefully, this is the end of this horrific nightmare, and we can all finally wake up and get on with our lives. 

I am sharing my raw emotions with you….wide open and real, hoping that if anyone else feels like I did yesterday, you won’t feel alone, ungrateful, weird, or embarrassed to talk about it. Everyone reacts to situations differently, just like the virus and vaccine itself. I’m heading to the couch to rest on this much-needed rainy day.

Did I tell you, or what? Happens every year when I get my summer clothes out! 😜

When you think of a business going out on a delivery route there can be traffic, problems parking, blocked loading dock areas and noise.

After production today, we went on a delivery run that began with a quick check-in with my doctor’s office to re-check my high last week’s blood pressure. Thank goodness it was in the normal range today. We still aren’t sure why I was getting headaches, and my bp was elevated, so we will continue to monitor my bp at home.

Our first delivery stop was to the Dorset Union Store in Dorset, VT. It’s everything you think of when you think of a store in Vermont, and this one has been around since 1816. Their tag line is “Purveyors of Necessities and Frivolitiies Since 1816.” The store has two chefs that create delicious sandwiches, soups, meats, salads. They also offer dinners to go, sides, entrees, and catering. We love being part of this!

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Our next delivery was just a few miles away on Route 30, a place called Mach’s Market in Pawlet, VT. This gorgeous store and deli have been a general store since 1804! After an extensive renovation, Mach’s Market reopened about a year ago “We’re Back…and Better Than Ever!” They have a team of chefs, bakers, and pizza makers offering new, fresh food, including a butcher shop and smokehouse. A wood-fired brick oven turns out organic baked goods, bread, and gourmet pizzas.

Our last delivery was to Consider Bardwell Farm in West Pawlet, VT, who are artisan award-winning cheesemakers. “Great People Making Great Cheese” is what they call their team. We are lucky enough to be included in their farm store and available for online purchasing and shipping! Our spatzle and their cheese make one hell of a macaroni and cheese!

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At the 2018 Vermont Cheesemakers Festival, Consider Bardwell Farm won the best cheese, and we won the best artisan food. It was such a surprise and honor to be awarded such a title. The festival is one of the top 10 food festivals in the country. Sadly, they have announced the cancellation again this year. Check the festival out on Facebook and start planning your trip to the festival next year.

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On our way back home, we decided to take the back roads. We took Rupert Road to Sandgate Road and were lucky that the road was freshly graded. The back roads can get grooves 2 feet deep. We went through “the notch,” a winding, curvy road, making traveling in the winter a nail-biter or impossible.

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Tomorrow after production, I go for my second Moderna injection. I hope and pray that I only experience a sore arm; we have a lot more spatzle to make this week. Fingers crossed! 🤞

Every autumn, I switch my clothes over from summer to winter, and in the spring, I do the opposite. Each time I make the switchover, I put things away neatly, but my closet is a total mess by the end of the season. 

I pulled out one bin the other day, searching for a pair of capris, and couldn’t find them. I rifled through the other five bins and still couldn’t find them. Everything I wear is black, and I can never find shit. 

It’s raining and cold outside, so it’s the perfect day to make the switch. As I start going through the bins, I talk to myself out loud. “What in God’s earth is this thing?” “What in the fuck is that?” “Oh, that’s where that went!” “Well, son of a gun!”

Back in October, when I took a break from belly dance out of anger and frustration with the whole covid thing, I cleaned my closet. Besides the regular switch over, I threw all my belly dance practice wear, hip shawls, coin belts, costuming, jewelry, and stage makeup into 4 large bins. 

I was like a crazy person when I went to the store to buy the large bins. I was so pissed off that day with the situation this was my way of putting it to the side. 

One conversation I had on the phone with Kathleen, my co-teacher and dance partner, asked me how I was doing. I don’t know what I said, but she asked me if I burned all of my belly dance stuff. She was relieved when I laughed and said it was packed away.  She knows me well. LOL

When I am done with something that was a hard situation or something I learned a life lesson from, I burn or bury it. Getting rid of the negative energy coming from the items helps me release whatever needs to go. 

Ok…I am not a pyromaniac in any sense of the word, but burning shit is like a ritual to me. I get rid of items that someone who turned out to be a toxic friend gave me, photos, articles of clothing, and trinkets. I haven’t had to do a burning ritual for 3 years, so that’s good news. 

As I sort through my clothing and accessories, things are a mess! Remember this…never put things away when you are mad, believe me. I am trying to sort things out then putting them in piles of love it, meh, hate it, and what in the hell was I thinking? There is also a pile of garbage or donate items.

This year, as I went through things, I realized that I didn’t wear more than 2/3 of my wardrobe because of covid. I won’t be as hasty getting rid of things because I haven’t worn them for such a long time. 

I found a box of super cute sundresses that I realized I didn’t wear any of last summer. I remember thinking, why dress cute while I am wearing this ridiculous mask. I certainly didn’t feel cute, so I dressed meh.

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Now that I’ve gone through everything, I got out my belly dance practice wear and some hip shawls. I am going back to teach belly dance on April 28 and want to have things ready. I reorganized everything, my garbage pile was small, and I had nothing to donate. I created a wait-and-see box for next year. If I don’t like the stuff then, it will be gone like the wind.

It took me about 4 hours to make the switch over, and I am so glad it’s done. There will probably be snow in the forecast in the next few days, it happens every year, and in the fall, we get Indian summer. 😜

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If you asked me a couple of years ago how I would spend my money if I were filthy rich, I would tell you there are three things. They aren’t extravagant things, but things to have constantly. 

In 2016, a reporter interviewed a guy named Issac Carranza about what he would spend his money on if he won Powerball. He replied, “Hookers and cocaine!” 

In reality, the man was married with two small children and said it as a joke. He got tons of laughs as people watched his candid, quick-witted response. That was his 15 minutes of fame; you can watch it on Youtube.

The first item on my list would be to have fresh-cut flowers in my home all the time. When I see this on tv shows or magazines, I know it’s a planned set, but I love the look and idea. 

Do I really have to be rich to have this “luxury” item? No. Three summers ago, Marty traded with a flower farmer spätzle for flowers every Saturday. Each week the flowers were different and lasted more than a week. I loved it!

An organic farm, Lovin Mama Farm, has fresh-cut flowers along with their certified organic produce this year at the Troy Farmers Market. Their kids love our spätzle, and I love their flowers, so they traded yesterday, and Marty brought home beautiful pink tulips. 🌷 

My second lux item would be to have fresh linens on my bed every single day. The reality of putting freshly washed sheets on our bed every day isn’t going to happen; however, I do make our bed every day as I would with clean sheets. Most busy days, I don’t actually make the bed until bedtime, but I can’t sleep in a wrinkled unmade bed. A nap? Shit, I could sleep on a cactus. 🌵 

My last item would be crystal clear square ice cubes. I know some people are like, she’s bat shit crazy; why does it matter? Well, because it does. 

I am a person who not only likes to drink cocktails, but I have an appreciation for well-made, gorgeous, sexy AF cocktails; ice cubes do matter. I have ice molds that I use, but I want the cubes to be crystal clear, and they are not. I have to do my research on how to make this happen, I am sure there is a Youtube video out there.

Are these three things really luxurious? No. Are they important things? No. Are they necessary? No. Are they ridiculous to other people? Definitely yes. When I was living my life on the destination and not the journey, they represented a “Look, I made it” achievement. Now I can see these items are obtainable right now on my journey and don’t have to wait until I become rich. I AM already rich with everything in my life. 😊 

This morning we didn’t have to wake up and head into the production kitchen right off the bat like usual. We planned out the week that today we can get ready for my first outdoor farmers market. Marty’s first outdoor market was last Saturday, which started at a brisk 18-degrees! 🥶

We have to get my tent, weights, banner sign, and heavier table to hold up to the winds in the Wilton Mall parking lot in Saratoga, NY. You can check out my market the Saratoga Farmers Market or Marty’s the Troy Waterfront Farmers Market. 

We didn’t go to farmer’s markets before starting The Vermont Spätzle Company since I worked weekends. I always thought they were expensive and wouldn’t have things I would actually use. Boy, was I wrong! 

Before the pandemic, Marty’s market in Troy was like an event every week, a destination spot for people to travel to. It was voted the number one farmers market in the whole country. Anywhere from 10,000-15,000 people would attend the expansive incredible market every Saturday. 

Of course, the pandemic changed all that. Last summer, the market was open under strict guidelines to keep people safe, restricting the number of people who could be at the market at once. They also had a one-way shopping directional flow. Last summer, between 2,000-3,000 people attended the market that runs from 9 am – 2 pm. 

This year both of our farmer’s markets have to follow those same guidelines for safe shopping. Everyone still needs to wear a mask and practice social distancing. No one is allowed to sample at their stalls and food should be eaten off-premises or an area dedicated for this purpose 

Both of us can’t wait for the guidelines to loosen up a bit. Not being able to sample makes our product’s sale trickier since at least 50% of people don’t even know what spätzle is. When we can sample, our product speaks for itself. The smell of spätzle being lightly sautéed in butter drifting out from under our tents is intoxicating. 

For now, we have to be patient and pray that things can only get better. We also do a farmers market right here in Arlington, VT, on Friday nights from 4-7 pm. The Arlington Village Farmers Market will run from June 18th through September 17th. The market has a new and improved, more spacious location at the Arlington Rec Park about a 1/4 of a mile north in route 7a from our house and production facility. It’s walkable through a path from Camping on the Battenkill campground, which is great for campers to get great local items to cook while camping.

If you have never attended a farmers market, I urge you to seek one out or visit us. You will find produce just picked that morning, perennials, flowers, herbs, maple syrup, honey, local eggs, beef, pork, chicken, and lamb. Prepared foods to go or to be eaten at the market once that is allowed again. Our markets have music, artisan pottery, jewelry, soaps, lotions, and candles. You literally can see who grew, raised, or made what you are buying with prices that can compete with supermarket prices. Knowing where your food comes from has become a priority for many people in the last year.

This morning we enjoyed our coffee on our front porch with Otto and Klaus. The weather was perfect; the sun was strong, making the 44-degree temperature feel like 70. If I had to pick a spot to have my morning coffee, it would either be on a beach or just right here. ☺️

Yesterday I wrote about managing my time, today we are throwing it all out the window. 

Last night, our neighbor and friend Martin texted us and asked us if we could do him a favor. We are always telling him to ask when he needs help, so we were happy he did. 

He didn’t need anything moved or lifted; he needed us to go to Albany with him at 5 pm to pick up a mattress that he purchased. He was afraid his truck wouldn’t make the ride since it’s acting up. 

Martin’s wife and our friend Eileen passed away suddenly a year ago from a heart attack. That event has changed how I look at everything on my journey. It was beyond a shock; I was texting with her only two hours before. I only knew Eileen for 8 months, but we became fast friends, and we spent almost every Friday and Sunday having dinner with them. 

Our last dinner together was a gift; we almost didn’t go because it was just the beginning of Covid. I said no, then I changed my mind and said to her, “fuck it, we are coming for taco night.” Martin wore gloves, and we sat socially distanced. It was the best decision I could have made because we had a great time together, the last time together. 

We called Martin and told him no problem; we would be happy to help with the mattress. A couple of years ago, I would have said it was too late or whatever dumb ass excuse I would have made. But things are different now; life is short, so live it. 

We decided to have an administrative day at VT Spätzle this morning; tackling banking, paying bills, organizing, and filing paperwork. It felt good to catch up after a month of office work neglect finally. 

I spring cleaned our bathroom, went to the bank and post office, and worked out. I have a little bit of time to relax and sit in the sun before leaving for Albany. 

When we talked to Martin right away, he said he would take us out to dinner after picking up the mattress. He and Marty argued back in forth that we would go out to eat, but he wasn’t paying. It was comical, actually. 

We are taking two vehicles since the van only has two seats. Martin’s son Luke is going to take a ride with us too. We always say we will go to Albany to go out to dinner, but we never do. Now we finally have the perfect excuse to make it happen. 

As it turns out, a wholesale customer called and placed a nice size order literally around the corner from where the mattress is, which is fantastic. If we weren’t going to Albany tonight, we’d be stressing when we would go this week.

Friendship and family mean so much more to me now; everything else can wait. I’ll repeat it; life is short; live it. 

Every week things are slowly opening up again. This spring feels like a complete renewal, especially after the year we have all had.

This morning I saw my mother in person at the care facility she lives at. In a year, I only saw her once during the summer at an outdoor visit. The activities department set up numerous FaceTime visits over the year, and all of her care plan meetings were done over speakerphone. Even after things are back to “normal,” I will continue with the telephone care plan meetings; it’s so much more efficient with no chit-chat. I can also continue to work in the production kitchen during the meeting. Win, win! 

I had my temperature taken and had to answer a few questions, then went through a side door. My mother was waiting for me along with a really nice girl from the activities department. Our visit was limited to only 20 minutes, which honestly was enough time for her and me. We had to stay 6 feet apart. She didn’t have on a mask which was good, so I could figure out what she was saying. She started getting sleepy before the visit was over. 

I went into the visit with zero expectations, a lesson I’ve made myself learn over the last year with everything. In the past, I’ve given a lot of myself to people, only to be disappointed and or hurt.

My mother was the same as a year ago. I stayed positive and cheery, avoiding any drama during the visit. I kept the conversation light and didn’t fall back into any of my past habit traps. It was a God-sent having the activities girl with us the whole time. When the time was up, I was permitted to hug her since she had both of her vaccines. I left her with two boxes of marshmallow peeps, her favorite Easter candy, and took off.

Walking back to my vehicle, I had no emotion one way or another, strangely enough. That was fine with me since I was on my way to belly dance with Kathleen. The gym that we rent our dance space at reopened for live classes today. How wonderful! Our classes will resume on April 28th, the two-week mark after my second vaccine; zoom will continue for students who cannot attend class. Yip!

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We have discussed class formats, drop-in pricing, class times, and how to move forward for the last couple of weeks. Our classes will resume with our core students for a while; then, we can figure out down the road when we will reopen our classes to the public—one step at a time. In the meantime, I am excited to go back to teaching & dancing without a mask. I’ve missed my students and dancing with them tremendously.

As things are opening, my once boring-ass long days and nights are becoming jam-packed. Business is busy, and I am back at my Saturday farmers market in Saratoga, NY. I am still trying to work out at least 5 times a week. My workouts feel rushed now because I am squeezing them in. Once I add in Wednesday night dance classes, things will be crazy busy. 

I’ve been super busy before the pandemic juggling my time; adding working out and writing will be new to the mix. I am laughing to myself, thinking about how many hours I was on my phone or watching tv, looking at stupid shit for hours, miserable…waiting and waiting for life to resume. Managing all of my activities plus working, cooking, and cleaning is such a wonderful and beautiful thing! Yay! 💐

This piece basically wrote itself while I was making spatzle batter all morning in the production kitchen. I haven’t told you something about me yet; I am blessed with spiritual and psychic gifts. It’s not something that comes up early on in a relationship, but today is the day for me to tell you a little bit about my gifts.

Twenty-one years ago, on the Wednesday before Easter Sunday, I had a very real, vivid dream, which turned out to be a visit from my grandmother, Nana. This visit is what opened up the veil to the other side for me.

My father, Russ, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease or ALS in January that year, and they gave him 3-5 years to live. The decline of my father happened at a startling rate. When he called me on my birthday in February, I knew that it would be the last happy birthday I would ever hear from him again. When I hung up the phone, I laid on my stomach on our bed crying, and at that moment, I felt Sam kick for the first time; I was due at the end of August.

The last time I saw Nana in person was at my wedding. After she passed away, I regretted not spending more time with her that day. She visited me in a dream just before I woke up in the morning. She looked younger, had great color in her cheeks and lips from the pink Revlon lipstick and blush she used to wear.

Everything was done telepathically, I realized later on. I was so surprised to see her; the first thing I did was apologize for not spending more time with her at my wedding. She waved her hand like stop it. Then I told her I was so worried about my pregnancy since I had a miscarriage the year before and my father’s condition.

She told me not to worry about Sam; everything would be fine. The next thing she told me was like a riddle, “I’ll be back for your father when the sun returns to the father.” That is what I remembered her saying. I couldn’t figure it out, but it was such a crystal clear message. Then she leaned close to my face, and I could actually smell her Jean Nate perfume, and I woke up.

I was like, “OMG, what just happened?” I told Marty immediately what happened, and I shared the visit with a couple of friends. We were leaving for NJ the next morning to spend Easter with my parents.

When we arrived in NJ, my dad was relieved that we were there. I got to spend the afternoon with him sitting on their deck. From that point on, things started to tank fast. By Good Friday, he was having problems breathing if he tried to lay down or back.

Holy Saturday was stressful and scary for us. Finally, we called the rescue squad that evening, and they wheeled my father out in a stair chair because he couldn’t lay down. I didn’t know he would never be coming home again.

By the next day, Easter Sunday, we knew he wasn’t going to make it. It was a shock and surreal. After I went to the hospital to say good-bye to my father, I went home with Noah, who was only 4 years old. He was very close to my dad, and he didn’t know what was happening.

Easter night, I bathed Noah and put him to bed. I sat on the couch and jumped up and said, “OMG, it’s Easter! The day the Son returns to the Father!” The day Christ has risen. I immediately knew what Nana’s words meant. We didn’t have cell phones at the time, so I was on my own with this information. I cried and cried. I thanked Nana for the heads up and felt a little better that she would be there waiting for my father.

At 10:01 pm, I said an Our Father and knew my father took his last breath. When Marty and my mother got home about an hour later, I asked them his death time, and they said 10:01 pm. In the morning, I had to tell Noah what happened to Pop-pop; it was beyond heartbreaking, the hardest thing I ever had to tell someone.

My spiritual gifts exploded over the next few days. I could feel my father near. He would tell me things about the people at his wake that I never met before. I knew answers to questions that weren’t even asked yet. My father was telling me jokes, and I would share them with Marty and my mother to make all of us laugh, even though it didn’t seem appropriate.

On the morning of my dad’s funeral, I was standing in the back of the church behind his casket with my family. My knees were knocking and I felt sick to my stomach. I realized I felt the same way when he and I were standing in the back of the church at my wedding before I walked down the aisle. Next, I heard him whisper to me, “It’s showtime.” Those were the same words he said at my wedding. Holy shit!

When I realized all of the new psychic/spiritual gifts I had, I also knew needed to get a handle on them. I started getting messages all the time and not just from my father. I needed a radio control tower for all of them flying in. I started reading up on psychic abilities.

When Sam was two, I joined a meditation group. I also became a reiki master and practiced shamanism. I found out the messages I got were coming from people who recently crossed over or were stuck in the middle world; they didn’t know they were dead. My psychic abilities didn’t include information like lucky lottery numbers, darn it.

I used all of my abilities for good, helping many people move on from the middle world. I did reiki, chakra clearing, and aura balancing. I never charged anyone money for using my gifts, it didn’t feel right, but I did accept an occasional bottle of wine as a barter. It all came naturally to me. I was good at it; I didn’t realize how “powerful” I was until a psychic person came up to me and told me. Geez!

When we started our business four years ago, I had to close the veil to the other side. I was constantly being interrupted by people trying to get their messages through to someone who could hear them. I needed to focus on my business and family. I needed a break.

I still did reiki and other energy work, but nothing with the other side. Earlier this week, I got a message from Mema that I wrote about on Sunday. I’ve been hearing songs on Pandora for the last three days from my friend Eileen who passed away one year ago today. This morning, I dreamt about my father and a recently deceased cousin who passed in December. It was a dream, not a visit, but it made me remember Nana’s visit on the Wednesday before Easter, just like today.

I know that these gifts bless me; however, I am still not ready to get back into moving people from one world to another. I welcome the messages that I am receiving and know that my loved ones are not here in body form, but their energy never leaves us.

A funny thing happened on the way to the…kitchen. Well, not really funny, but funny in my mind. Right after I hit the publish button on my power outage post, I headed into the kitchen when I got a text from our friend Martin, the chef who lives across the street.

“Want to join us for those Chinese stuffed peppers Marty likes?” In a flash, I forgot all about the chicken a l’orange I would attempt to prep for the second time day. “Of course,” I texted back immediately. LOL

Martin has introduced us to so many new dishes over the last year and a half, dishes I’ve seen on restaurant menus for years. I wouldn’t consider myself a picky eater but cautious when I am not sure. Ok, that wrong; I am very frugal when it comes to spending money; I would hate to order something and not like it, or worse, not even eat it.

I wanted to share with you the dish he made last night. We both love Chinese food and miss being able to order anything we want since we went gluten-free 11 years ago. The dish Martin made is a dim sum classic Cantonese Stuffed Peppers.

I’ve gone out for dim sum and don’t recall these peppers. I only recall all the different types of dumplings and steamed pork buns. Dim sum is Cantonese, a way to offer customers many choices to eat on a wheeled cart around the restaurant. You pick what you want and however much you want.

Dim sum started in Asian tea houses offering the guests small bites to have during tea service. Tea is still important at dim sum restaurants flip-flopping the origin.

The Chinese stuffed peppers are peppers stuffed with two different fillings; pork or shrimp. Traditionally it is served with a brown fermented bean sauce or just a soy-based brown sauce.

Martin made pork stuffed peppers with a brown sauce that was so shiny it was like a glaze. The filling tasted like dumpling filling, which we love and miss. Chinese stuffed peppers can be made with various peppers such as a bell, long spicy, or cherry.

Both times we’ve had it, Martin used long banana peppers, which can have a bit of spiciness. Last nights weren’t as spicy as the last time he made them, maybe because the peppers were in season over the summer? 🤔

I looked up a bunch of recipes for the stuffed peppers and planned to make them myself. As usual, all the recipes are different. Usually, we get to watch him prepare dinner for us, but last night the peppers were already in the oven. Martin already prepared the brown sauce for the peppers as well. None of the recipes I found called for the use of an oven since they don’t use ovens in China, but I think that is how I will do mine. Frying in a pan is just an invitation for the filling to fall out.

I am grateful not only for my friendship with Martin, but I’ve learned so much from him. He loves how I watch him and try to figure out what’s coming next and our faces when we try something for the first time.

He prepared the best bite of food of 2019; it was a parsnip puree. Such a simple thing that I never had before; I just assumed it tasted like a carrot. Wow, was I wrong? Parsnip puree is now a staple on the menu of my favorite dishes to make and eat.

Oysters Rockafeller was another dish that I didn’t expect to love so much. Now I really want to learn to make them myself. What’s been holding me back is that I am intimated shucking the oysters. This summer, I will suck it up, get myself the right kind of knife to use, and practice opening them in the outdoor kitchen. I don’t know if I am brave enough to try one raw, but they sound delicious with a mignonette sauce. So maybe…

Now I am off to the kitchen to make my chicken a l’orange, the prepping stage flew by me again today, I guess I just wasn’t meant to prep this dish ahead. I’ll let you know how it turns out. 🤞🏽