Vinny Parmesan Bread + Thoughts from Galena (a travel guide!)

Hello, friend.

It is finally cardigan wearing weather. That means the holiday season is upon us once more. There is a stir of excitement in the air, a tingle of anticipation. The weather is changing. The sky seems to bend light in a different way. The feeling of bitter cold and chilliness numbs the skin. The clouds begin sifting flakes of crystal white snow downward upon the ground. It’s a time for drinking hot cocoa and sitting by the fire. Though, I don’t have a fireplace in my one bedroom apartment, and I seem to be all out of hot cocoa. *sighs* This isn’t a good start.

Strawberry, Roasted Pecan & Goat Cheese topped Spinach Salad with a Balsamic Vinaigrette + the World’s Tallest Wind Chime

Hello, friend.

I write this post in the rain. Technically, I’m not in the rain. It’s raining outside my apartment window as I write this. I think that’s close enough. What can I say, I’m looking for some dramatic literary effect. There is something comforting about a late summer rain. The air is a mixture of chilliness and warmth. The clouds turn black as night, a burnt coal shade of starry-eyed oblivion. The droplets of rain hit gently against the window pane kept perfectly in time to the subtle tips of my fingers on my keyboard. A gentle billow of steam comes ascending upward from my mug of decaf French pressed coffee. A take a sip. Ahhh. The fan above my head slowly spins to the rhythm of electric impulse. The apartment is hushed, and the mood is solemn. The soft notes of the alto saxophone jazz hum smoothly through my speakers. All is as it should be, thanks to the rain. 

Baked Spicy Tomato & Makeshift Béchamel Pasta for Two + Musings from the Mountains

Hello, friend.

I write to you from the mountains. The hill-song of the South. The Smoky Mountains bare (or should I say ‘bear’) its tranquility and peace unto my soul. Inspiration is striking deep. It soothes my spirit and breathes new life into my work. The words seem to cascade like water droplets off bending leaves. Everything about the mountains is as it should be. Purity and silence fill the space. Rustling branches and the flowing streams teach us to walk a bit slower and learn to pause and listen. Take grandeur of the woods and their shadows. The bending of light and the crossing of the day. Everything living kept in time to the rhythm of the land. The mountains seem to move to an almost unnoticeable beat. The mountains have given me an escape.

I’ve been on a small hiatus. After my most recent post where I collaborated with the Homer Soda Company, I closed my laptop, packed my bags, and set out for the mountains. My family and I took a week vacation to the Smokey Mountains. The past week was full of scenic drives, cast iron cooking, and moments in the woods. We lodged in a quaint log cabin outside Pigeon Forge for our stay. The area is rather touristy and diluted with overpriced dinner shows, corporate chains restaurants, and T-shirt stores with the words “Great Smokey Mountains” written in bold neon colors, all up and down the strip. I wanted desperately to get off the beaten path and experience the sounds of the forest, and luckily our cabin fit that criteria.