Category: Uncategorized

It’s the first day of Spring, and what a glorious day it was! Today, I went back to my indoor farmer’s market in Saratoga, NY; I haven’t been to the market since the Saturday before Christmas.

We made the hard decision to keep me home from my market when the covid numbers were spiking in the Saratoga area and were also very high where we live. Vermont’s covid numbers had been relatively low compared to other started before Christmas and ski season.

Since I am immune-compromised and I hate driving in the wintertime, it was a good idea. As it turned out, there were only four Saturdays that there wasn’t yucky, icy weather. Marty didn’t want to risk my health, and I didn’t argue because I knew he was right about staying home.

We decided in mid-February that I would return on March 20. We figured the weather would be better and more people would have been vaccinated. I didn’t know then that I would have received my first vaccine as well, even better.

Last March, when covid literally stopped the world in its tracks, the market moved outdoors in the parking lot of the mall we used for our indoor winter market. Everyone was relieved there would be a market and cooperated with whatever needed to be done. Vendor tents were spaced far apart; hand sanitizer was available to everyone; purchases were set on a separate table, away from everything. Customers put their own credit cards into our square machine, so we didn’t have to touch their cards. Everyone was outstanding about social distancing and wearing their masks.

I know we were feeling afraid, unsure, and anxious, but seeing our regular happy customers be so frightened and freaked out was awful. The market followed the guidelines and mandates week after week because everyone wanted to keep the market open safely for customers. In the summer, once frightened people were getting used to the new “normal” as they began to smile and laugh behind their masks.

The market stayed outside until November and headed back inside the mall. Once again, people were scared to be indoors even though all the vendor booths were adequately spaced apart. Emily and Madison, the market administrator and her assistant, worked hard to make people feel safe at our market. They even started online curbside pick up for customers who didn’t feel comfortable shopping indoors. Some people stated loosening up, while others still had fear in their eyes. They came to our market because they wanted to shop with us instead of going to a supermarket. Customers wanted local food and liked knowing where it came from.

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Today I was thrilled to be going back. I left before dawn since I had a couple of deliveries to make before the market. I got to the market early since I didn’t know where I would be setting up. Emily told me I could have my same spot; she didn’t like to move vendors around; it confuses the customers. Yay, Emily; we are super lucky to have her!

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The mood of the market today was so different than before. It was lively and had great energy. You could see people smiling and laughing behind here masks again. The look of relief on many shoppers’ faces was priceless. A couple of my customers have been panic-stricken since the pandemic started, and it never let up. I asked one woman back in October how her week was, and she said, “how could it be anything but bad with what’s going on.” I honestly almost cried; it was so sad she felt that way.

The same woman came to my table today with a big smile and handed me her money instead of throwing it on the table like she’s been doing for last year. I asked her how she has been, and she proudly told me she had both of the vaccines. It was wonderful to see her so relieved and happy again.

Customers and vendors were happy to see me, I was ecstatic to see everyone. A lot of my regular customers read in the farmers market newsletter of my return and came to see me.

One of my regular customers named Richard was very ill before Christmas. He had a stroke the year before and was recovering, but something was wrong. I came home from the market that day heartbroken and told Marty that he was really failing. I was afraid he would die.

Over the last three months, I have thought of Richard often; I included him in my prayers and hoped he was ok. Today, he came up to my table with his wife, and he said, “Oh Julz, I’ve been so worried about you; I was hoping and praying you were ok.” I was lost for words; imagine that. I told him I was worried and praying for him too. I noticed he was doing so much better. His wife said he shocked the doctors with his recovery. Thank goodness!

It was fantastic being back; spring was in the air. I missed my customers, and they missed me. Many told me they thought of me and couldn’t wait for me to come back. All the kids that love our spatzle came right up to say hello. What a great thing to hear them say how much they missed me. ☺️

Marty and I are extremely blessed with a successful business and genuine, nice customers who love our spatzle and us very much. This is why we say we are spreading the spatzle love and started the business in the first place. ❤️

Hope penetrated the space at the farmer’s market today. Many people said they could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and wake up from this horrendous nightmare. Thank goodness!

I sit here in front of my laptop, thinking about what my writing coach Jon said about my blog. He told me I am a natural writer, and I am finding my groove when writing about my blog’s life portion. My posts about food, cooking, and recipes are on point and well done.

Some recent suggestions he made were to improve the actual blog, not the writing. He thinks having archives with different categories is essential, and I should have a stronger search engine for readers to use. He knows that Marty and I set up the blog ourselves, but it may be time to find a web developer for help.

I explained to him that we aren’t able to hire a web designer since the blog has already cost me a lot of money. I had to pay for a domain name and hosting site plus a bunch of other computer stuff. That is when he reminded me that I should ask for financial donations from my readers that enjoy my writing. This is where my dilemma came in. Do I do it or not?

I love writing my blog and have written every day since I launched it in January. The blog takes a lot of time. Writing in-depth recipes for my cooking posts sometimes take 3-4 hours. Marty got me a laptop to be downstairs or eventually outside, not being cooped up in our home office on the second floor.

I have a ton of things that I would like to add to my blog. For my food posts, I would like a “jump to the recipe” button. Readers have suggested having a print button for the recipes as well. For the archives Jon suggested, I would like to have a recipes section, restaurant reviews, and a gluten-free guide of restaurants that offer safe gluten-free choices.

Jon has been a professional writer, reporter, and author his whole life, it’s his career, and he is brilliant at it. On the other hand, I am the co-owner and operator of a commercial food manufacturing company that takes up most of our time. I make time every day to write a blog post and look forward to it very much. I don’t have time to figure out the technical things necessary to improve my blog.

I am not writing this blog as a money-making venture, but Jon tells me repeatedly I should be getting paid for my work.

There is a “support my blog” section at the top of the page, and thus far, I’ve been blessed by a few people who have contributed.

So I guess after a lot of hemming and hawing about it…do it (ask for support) or not? I decided that I do want to improve my blog for my readers and thought fuck it, why not?

I received my first vaccine this morning on St. Patrick’s Day. The green t-shirt that I wore says LUCK which is exactly how I feel. I received the Moderna vaccine and go back for my second dose on April 14th.

I was eligible for my vaccine as a high-risk 55-year-old. I just turned 55 less than three weeks ago, so that is lucky too. 

Growing up not knowing my nationalities sucked on days like St. Patrick’s Day. I was told every year not to worry; everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. Of course, people who knew they were Irish were the ones who said it. 

That’s all in the past now. Through Ancestry.com, I found out I am 77% Irish, 11% Eastern European, 9% Balkan, and 3% Swedish….as of last night. 

The numbers change whenever I go back to Ancestry after several months. The more people who have done the DNA test and are linked to you can affect the percentages. 

I never imagined I would have that much Irish blood running through my veins, but I do. It makes me happy to finally know where my ancestors came from and what I “am” which I never could answer before. 

St. Patrick’s Day is a huge day for me now. Unless you are adopted, it’s hard to imagine how special it feels to belong to a nationality finally. 💚🍀 🇮🇪 

Last year at this time, I was panicking when I went to the grocery store that I wouldn’t be able to find any food as everyone else did. Little did we know how much cooking we would be doing and how long this nightmare would last. It’s a blessing we didn’t know.

I always keep a full freezer and pantry over the winter, just in case. Well, last year was the epitome of the just-in-case scenario. This year I feel like it’s safe enough to start using up everything I’ve had in the freezer and pantry.

I was pretty proud of myself that I didn’t find any mystery meat or containers. I was actually good about labeling things before I froze them. I’ve been known to just quickly wrap something in foil and think I’ll know what it is in 3 months. When I find a foil-wrapped whatever in the freezer, it’s like playing a guessing game as to what it could be and how old it is. I usually end up tossing it away, sadly.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been putting meals together with proteins that I found in the freezer; I’ve also been going through my dry and canned goods. Once I figure out what items I need to use, I look up some recipes to spark an idea or inspiration.

I found a chuck roast, boneless thin pork chops, a ham hock, Italian sausage, a whole chicken, and pork tenderloin. One by one, I defrosted each protein and put together a dinner. It takes a little time and imagination, but I’ve cooked some delicious food.

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I try to rotate my pantry and fresh veggies weekly and monthly; try is the word I used because it’s hard to do when life gets busy. There are always just a few things that I bought that I have no fucking clue why I bought them in the first place. Those are the tricky ones to use up, but it feels like you hit a home run when you can pull a good meal out of your ass with one of them.

In the pantry, I found a bag of split peas, a partial bag of soft corn tortillas, three opened bags of different rice varieties with small amounts in each bag. Really Julz? Why I left small amounts in the bag is just beyond me.

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In the fridge, I found a container of mushrooms that needed to be used stat, some asparagus that was thrilled to be used finally, a couple of peppers that have seen better days, and a big ass butternut squash.

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I put together some nice meals, cleaned out the freezer, pantry, and refrigerator, which always makes me happy. In the spring and summer, I do less grocery shopping since we are out and about more. We are both at our farmer’s markets and have plenty of chances to get fresh produce. I tend to pick up proteins that I can throw on the grill from our fellow vendors at the farmer markets or things that speak to me at a butcher shop.

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I guess I am into my full spring cleaning mode even though it’s cold as hell again. I am already thinking about cleaning my closet and have started washing curtains. I try to get as organized as I possibly can be before our busy summer season begins.

Yesterday, after I made a couple of deliveries, I stopped by my friends Jon and Maria’s farm, Bedlam Farm. 

They had some excitement happen there about a week ago; a baby lamb was born. A surprise baby lamb, they didn’t know that their sheep Laurie was pregnant. 

I saw on Jon’s blog Bedlam Farm Journal and Maria’s Fullmoon Fiber Art photos of the new farm’s new addition. The baby lamb was named Robin, and he was adorable. The incredible story of how they saved his life is quite amazing; he was very close to freezing to death right after he was born. 

They quickly worked as a team getting his mother to recognize him and start nursing him before it was too late. You can read about it on their blogs and get the whole story. 

I am not a farm girl or even an animal person because I am afraid of anything other than dogs and cats, pretty much. That has changed after yesterday’s visit with Maria. 

I had a few bad barnyard incidents, one on a class trip; a goat in the petting zoo we were in jumped up on my shoulders and knocked me over. I was young, and it frightened me. 

Another incident was with my oldest son Noah. We were at a friend’s house, and there were horses across the street from her house. She brought us over to say hello, and the house spit and snotted on us. We were both traumatized by this; I wonder if Noah remembers this?

One other time was when Marty and I were still dating and we went for a horse trail ride. The horse must have sensed my fear because the entire time, he kept turning around, trying to bite my feet. I had to keep my feet way back for the whole ride. It was not enjoyable at all. 

Jon and Maria held an annual open house at Bedlam Farm, and I was lucky to have attended the last one. I watched from afar a woman named Liz shear some of their sheep. It was awe-inspiring how Liz could handle the sheep during the shearing. 

After the shearing, I walked over to a fence near the meadow, and someone put a carrot in my hand and told me to feed the donkeys. I reluctantly did it and gave their heads a quick pat. What a wimp I am when I am afraid but made myself do it. 

Yesterday, when I arrived at the farm, Maria was in the barn with the baby lamb Robin and his mama Laurie. She opened the gate for me to come into their stall. I focused on the lamb and how cute he was hopping all around that I forgot I was standing a few inches from a sheep! 

I relaxed when I realized Laurie the sheep didn’t give a rat’s ass about me. I loved watching Robin nurse from his mama; she was so patient with him; she is such a good mother. He would get underneath her and bump up with his head before he started nursing.

Next, the two donkeys Fanny & Lulu, came to the fence of the pen. I told Maria how I was afraid of them but gave them a carrot anyway. She didn’t know I was afraid of animals; I told her about my bad experiences, and she listened, nodding her head. 

Maria has been my belly dance student for almost four years, but yesterday our roles completely reversed. 

When Maria started classes with our belly dance group, she was shy and afraid. She was out of her comfort zone, but she bravely came back week after week. Her shyness went away when she realized we were there to teach and support her, to make her feel comfortable, and not laugh at her if she was struggling. 

Yesterday, I was shy and afraid when I stepped into the stall, completely out of my comfort zone. Maria made me feel comfortable and didn’t laugh at me that I was afraid. 

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With her, I pet the donkeys and completely relaxed. I even tried to quickly close a gate when Maria went into another stall to get hay. The sheep brushed up against me, and I wasn’t scared. I even got down low and took a few photos of baby Robin. 

I will never be a farm girl, but changing places with Maria from teacher to student was such a great experience and lesson. She was so confident and knowledgeable about her farm and animals like I am with musicality and dancing. We are dance sisters, and yesterday she was the big sister! 

The weather here in Vermont for the last two days has been glorious! I’ve lived here for 31 years and know that it won’t last, but it seems that everyone is living in the moment and taking advantage of the warm sunny days while we have them. 45-degrees in Vermont after a long winter is t-shirt and sweatshirt weather. 

Instead of walking on the treadmill, I’ve been able to walk outdoors again. Yesterday my walk was tricky as I had to puddle jump my way down Main Street. If I had my muck boots on, that wouldn’t have been an issue, but I was wearing sneakers. 

I know I keep bringing up how different my life has been since I started living life as a journey and not a destination; my walk yesterday proved it once more. 

I used to leave my house, and all I thought about when I walked was getting my exercise in and getting home. Yesterday I really looked at what I was walking through…history.

Arlington, VT, was chartered in 1761 with some pretty historical people who have lived here. Thomas Chittenden the first governor of Vermont, and Arlington was the first capital of Vermont. His home is the oldest wood-framed home in our town.

Norman Rockwell did most of his iconic paintings living in Arlington. He used the townspeople as his models. He was criticized that he wasn’t a real artist using models correctly because he had the models photographed, then he painted. He reasoned that the hard-working people didn’t have time to waste sitting for hours. Many of the model’s families and child models still live here today. It’s very cool. 

Dorothy Canfield, another resident, was an author, educator and started the original Montessori way of teaching. Her home is diagonal from our home and is now a community house where I taught my cooking classes.

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Revolutionary War soldiers included Sam Adams, Ethan & Ira Allen, who lived right here as well. The Green Mountain Boys held meetings next door to our house at the Deming House. 

Many homes here in Arlington were part of the Underground Railroad and still have hidden doors and hiding places in them. Cool or what? 

Our home was built in 1832 across the street from where it is today. The story goes that two brothers who owned homes across the street from each other had an argument, and the one brother decided in 1850 to move the peasant’s quarters across Main Street. Yes, we live in peasant’s quarters! 😂

Many homes have candles in their windows all year long. I learned from the previous owner that candles were put in windows of homes so that travelers would know what places they could find with different accommodations. 

One candle meant the home was open to travelers for drinks. Two candles meant food and drink. Three candles were lodging, food, and drink. The fourth candle meant they had all those things and some nice ladies who could keep you company, putting it nicely. Of course, I ran out and had to put four candles in our windows the next day!

As I walked around town yesterday, I thought about these very people and how they literally walked the same path I was on, and I imagined what it was like through their eyes.  I’ve never looked at it this way before. I love living in such an old historic place, maybe in 150 years people will point to our house and say that’s where those “spätzle people” lived. 

Four years ago today was the actual birth date of our business, The Vermont Spatzle Company. Marty and I decided that we were going to start our own business, and we were going to give it 110%. The first thing Marty did was to register the name of our business with the Vermont Secretary of State. That was the easy part.

During April & May, we had a lot to figure out. We both ran other people’s businesses before, but not our own. We both worked full-time jobs, so we had to work on the business in the evenings or any spare second either of us had. First, we designed our logo with a friend of mine.

Next, Marty worked on designing the label and what kind of container to put the spatzle in. There were so many options to chose from. He ordered samples, and we finally decided on the one we are still using today. He also found the right programs available online to help with our nutritional label and our UPC.

I had to figure out how to increase my batch sizes, drain, cool, package, and label our product. We sold our first package of spatzle at the beginning of June. We were in local businesses by the second week of June, and we were growing in popularity using social media. We had learned so much not only in that first three months but the first year.

We found some people who were so helpful and supportive that first year. One of our wholesale customers pointed out that the label we were using was boring and showed us that when it was merchandised in different freezers and coolers, you couldn’t tell what our product was. He also told us we needed something colorful and eye-catching.

He arranged a meeting with a graphic artist to help us, but we realized quickly that there was no way we could afford to work with anyone professional. The new label design would have cost us thousands of dollars.

Marty started making different prototypes, we would discuss them, and he would tweak them. I looked through different photos I took of the product, and bingo! A photo of the spatzle in a cast iron frying pan was perfect. Then we figured out the color scheme. Next, we had to figure out how big the label needed to be to wrap around our package not only for looks but for safety purposes.

Before we knew it, our spatzle was on the shelves of almost every co-op in Vermont and many specialty stores. It was bizarre in the beginning walking into a store and seeing our product in the cooler or freezer. We made, touched, weighed, packaged, labeled, and delivered that package ourselves. Now when I see our product in a store, I say hi to it.

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I wrote the date 3/11/17 on our kitchen chalkboard that night so we wouldn’t forget when we said we would make this idea happen. No one erased it. I added the logo to the chalkboard a couple of weeks later. 3/11/17 was the day we both started living the “American Dream.”

All of a sudden, I feel like things are on the upswing. Here in Vermont, the birds are chirping in the morning again, which is such a welcome sound after a long winter. I heard a woodpecker banging away on a tree yesterday. I think skunks are coming out of their hibernation, one sprayed right outside our barn, and I could smell it in the gym, which I never thought I would be happy to smell.

The days are noticeably longer and will be even longer after we “spring ahead,” turning our clocks ahead one hour on Sunday morning. Since January, the snow that has been on the ground is finally melting with the sun higher in the sky and warmer temperatures. Yesterday, it smelled like spring now that areas of dirt are being uncovered. 

I was able to sign up for my first vaccine on Monday morning as a 55-year-old with health risks. I never thought I would be so happy to have just turned a year older! I go on March 17 and feel some sense of relief just having the appointment; I was experiencing vaccine envy like many people are. 

I can’t wait until anyone can sign up to be vaccinated here in Vermont and not have to wait for their age bracket. It’s like trying to reach a carrot that’s being dangled in front of you, so close but still out of reach. I think that time will come very soon since there is now a third vaccine available. 

People went from doing toilet paper math to calculating when they will be getting their second shot. Then they add two weeks and have the date they can hug and see other fully vaccinated loved ones and friends again, without masks. 

I am planning on returning to the Saturday Saratoga Farmers Market next Saturday, March 20. I haven’t been to the market since right before Christmas when the Covid numbers began spiking not only in Saratoga but here in VT as well. I’ve missed our customers, other market vendors, and staff so much. 

It’s been a year since I taught my last real belly dance class. Now I feel extremely hopeful that we will all be back to class without masks and not afraid of each other anymore soon. I can’t wait to dance with my dance sisters and to be able to open our Wednesday night classes to the public once more.

Every year I look forward to spring and do a happy dance when the flowers start popping up. After an entire year of hell that everyone has endured, all the little things on my journey this spring seem to be a little brighter, greener, more beautiful than before. 

Last year before the pandemic, our 1832 Vermont Cape Cod home was painted very dark on the inside. Our dining room was a deep red, the living room was done in a brown suede finish, Noah’s room was black and red, and our bedroom was called midnight.

I loved all of these colors when we were renovating and painting each room at a time. It took us about 12 years to finish all of our projects. We said we were finally done with projects, then Covid hit.

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Being stuck in the house for so long with winter, then the lockdown, we started going stir crazy. This was before I was on the journey and still on the destination; I said, “Our next house is going to be light, bright, and airy, with clean lines. Duh, Julz, you have to wait until your next house?

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It took us forever to pick out a shade of white paint. There were hundreds to pick from. We had to choose a warm white or a cool white and what finish we wanted. We recently saw our friend’s new living room, and it was a light gray in a velvet finish. Gorgeous!

So we picked sailcloth white with the velvet finish and started painting. We did the living room; then we used the same paint to paint Noah’s newly abandoned bedroom since he moved out at the beginning of March. It was our new office, and both the rooms looked so much better. I got some sheer curtains, and wow, what a difference.

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Now our dining room was so dark and looked like it didn’t belong. We wanted a very light gray, and again, there were hundreds to choose from. I don’t remember the color we chose, but it came out great and really brightened up our whole downstairs.

At this point, we were getting a little sick and tired of painting and having our house be a wreck moving everything out of each room we were working on it. Then Marty said, “I hate how dark our bedroom is.” That started another project, and we ended up ripping up the carpet that was in there too. We picked edelweiss white, a big change from midnight black. I had to get new linens since the dark black and white sheets didn’t look good at all.

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I wanted our room to look like a bedroom in Paris, and I wanted it to be white on different shades of white. I had a canvas photo of the Eiffel Tower hanging up in our black bedroom, but it looks better in our new white one. I love Paris so much; it’s my most favorite place on earth. After all of this covid business is over and we can travel again, we plan to go in the not so far off future. That is a whole other blog post.

Along with the new linens, we picked up a used chandelier since I always wanted one in our bedroom and an area rug. A pair of sheer curtains and a couple of tie-back hooks, and voila! Tres Magnifique!

We both were pleased with how the bedroom came out. It was like sleeping in a bed and breakfast or a hotel room in Paris. Every morning Marty kept saying how it didn’t feel like our bedroom.

The last thing that looked like garbage was the staircase walls and upstairs hallway. We were super busy with the business and getting ready for our biggest season Oktoberfest. We actually hired a painter from town, which we have never done before. Two guys came in, got it done in one afternoon…boom. It was such a huge help not having us set up scaffolding on the stairs to paint at the stairwell’s top.

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As spring is approaching, I decided that I wanted to add just a small touch of color to our all-white bedroom. Purple is my favorite color. I picked out some beautiful purple and gray floral sheets. I was able to reuse my lavender and purple pillows we had in our black bedroom. I just got done putting them on the bed, and I love it! 💜

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today for no particular reason. I slept well and woke up on my own, and didn’t need my alarm to yank me out of dreams. 

It was cold and gloomy when I got up. We needed to be in the production kitchen earlier than usual since we had some supplies to pick up and deliveries to make in the afternoon. 

I wasn’t in a bad or crabby mood about any one thing, in particular, just everything. I usually stick to eating protein-based foods for breakfast and lunch and whatever I want for dinner, but I stuffed myself with carbs for breakfast today. 

Marty got up before I did and had everything set in the production kitchen for me to walk in and start making batter right away. Production went smooth, and we got done quickly. We had a quick lunch; I ate all carbs again. We changed our clothes and had to head to Saratoga to make a few deliveries. 

I hated myself for eating all carbs and felt like garbage. Overstuffed and disgusting. Everything I put on didn’t feel right. Too casual, too dressy, too tight, too loose. Ugh. I threw on some leggings and a soft gray tunic, and that was that. What really went with muck boots anyway? We were going to a farm, and they are necessary.

We had 3 delivery stops to make, which went off without a hitch. I haven’t been out of Arlington for 8 days, so I was looking forward to going shopping; I needed socks desperately. By the way, I hate shopping, so I must have been more desperate than my sock situation. 

We went to Dicks, and I needed to find the restroom before I could shop. At least I was keeping up with my water consumption. After walking around the entire store, I finally asked someone; it turns out the bathroom was tucked away in the furthest corner with no signs. 

Then we walked around the entire store looking for ladies’ socks. We found baseball & golf socks. Men’s and kids’ socks. Ladies’ ankle socks, but we couldn’t find regular crew socks, in black, preferably Adidas. Going through each section of the store was putting me into such a tizzy I almost left. “These bastards set these stores up like this, so you have to look at every fucking thing before you find what you want!” I guess Dick didn’t get the email that I hated to be there in the first place, so his hide and seek bullshit game wasn’t going to work. I told you I was in a bad mood.

Finally, we asked a couple of employees where we could find womens’ socks; they weren’t sure if they had any. Oh, and what size did I need? Socks for giraffes…I thought women’s socks were women’s socks and men’s were bigger; come on, guys. Ugh…WTF? Really? 

I found a clearance sock bin on my own, and after some rummaging around, low and behold, I found a three-pack of socks. They were actually exactly what I was looking for. What are the odds of that? They were on sale; maybe things were looking up.

Next, we crossed Route 50 and went into the brand new Aldi because I wanted to see it. It was set up like the one in Bennington, just bigger and newer, nothing to make me want to go there specifically. Then I went into TJ Maxx. I am not into retail therapy but wanted to see what they had for spring. Growing up watching my adopted mother’s shopping addiction, then having to get rid of tens of thousands of dollars of clothes, shoes, and handbags all still with price tags on them after her stroke still makes me sick to my stomach. I was shocked at how much money she spent, I ended up selling a few items at a consignment shop, but then just donating everything. I didn’t want any of it by the time I was done cleaning out her apartment. She ruined shopping for me.

TJ Maxx and Home Goods are stores that people love to go to. When I see women in those stores they all look happy with their eyes glazed over and their shopping carts full. While my father was still alive my mother had to hide and lie about all of her purchases. After he passed away she went hog wild and pissed through all his insurance money and the money from the sale of their home. I realized I wasn’t in the mood to shop and definitely not in the mood to look at spring clothes on carb overload.

As we drove through the town of Greenwich on our way to Saratoga, we noticed a food truck called Miller’s Backyard BBQ. I found them on Facebook and sent them a message inquiring about their gluten-free options. They answered me immediately, which was pretty damn impressive. 

It turns out they are very GF friendly, and we could eat almost everything on the menu except for their macaroni and cheese for obvious reasons and a few other items. 

On our way home, we were going back through Greenwich, and as luck would have it, they were open. They are only open from 4-8, and it was 4:30.  When we walked up to the food truck, I complimented them for such a quick response to my questions and how knowledgeable they are. He told me they had a lot of gluten-free customers. 

We got a sampler of all their proteins; smoked chicken wings with chipotle sweet chili sauce, sliced brisket, pulled pork, and bbq ribs. We picked potato salad and beans as our sides. We wanted to try it all since we’ve been binging on bbq shows on TV almost every night and want to go to Austin, TX, just to eat bbq when all this Covid shit is over. They have a great music scene as well. 

Millers did a really nice job! Hats off! Better bbq from a food truck than the last few bbq restaurants we’ve tried in the past. Restaurant quality from a food truck is the norm all around the country. Chefs that get tired of restaurant hours and want flexibility and creativity in their menus. Marty and I dream of having a food truck when we retire and travel to different warm places in the winter. 

Millers smoked all of the proteins perfectly, the right amount of smoke and a gorgeous smoke ring. Their homemade bbq sauces were good. Marty really liked the potato salad which was like a baked potato salad. 

Our favorite thing was the smoked chicken wings. They beat the wings I had two weeks ago in Hudson, NY at American BBQ by a mile. Really delicious! The sauce was incredibly balanced and flavorful. 

I said that Marty liked the potato salad. I only had one bite and stuck with all proteins. So I ended up flip-flopping my way of eating today, big shit. Tomorrow is another day. 

Instead of a glass of Chardonnay or the beautiful Sparkling Rose I had last night, I cut to the chase and went straight to the bourbon with a splash of ginger ale. One of my go-to favorites in the summer when we have a fire going in the fire pit. 

I know when I get up tomorrow, I’ll be out of my crabby mood. Sometimes I just need a crabby day. It doesn’t bother Marty because he gets a kick out of it and tries to make me even more cranky. When he gets into his funk some days, I do the same thing to him.