the lap of luxury

Breakfast in bed. It’s the trademark of relaxation and luxury, the ideal mother’s day gift prepared together by your 5 and 7 year-old children (according to Hallmark’s TV commercials), and frankly, something that I think is a little overrated. When was the last time I had breakfast in bed? Never. When was the last time I ever wanted breakfast in bed? Never. Ok, maybe when I was like 7 years old, but that’s basically never. Of course our beds are comfortable, and of course it is often hard to haul your body out of that fluffy cloud of warmth on a cold, dark morning when you’re having super sweet dreams, but I think that staying there and actually eating in your bed is very un-desirable.

breakfast on a tray - classic

Have you ever tried eating—especially drinking—while lying down? It’s a disaster waiting to happen. In order to actually enjoy a sip of coffee, you have to be certain it isn’t steaming hot so as to protect your puckered-out lips from blistering while attempting to slurp the drink into your mouth on a 45 degree angle. Do I want to drink luke-warm coffee? No. 
Do I want to burn myself? Certainly not.

Orange juice is a little easier because temperature isn’t necessarily an issue, however little dribbles are sure to seep out of the corners of your mouth and end up dripping, slowly but surely, down the side of your chin and onto your favorite sleep shirt. Cereal milk, pancake syrup, and little bits of your scrambled eggs are bound to fall off of your eating utensil and onto your body as well. Laundry time.

Needless to say, breakfast in bed isn’t a dream of mine. However this past week while staying in the SW Marriott Country Hill Resort and Spa, I had a breakfast in bed of sorts that suited me just fine.

Because I didn’t actually eat in my bed, but rather on the couch sitting just to the side of it, ordering a delicious breakfast of whatever my heart desires, having it prepared while I shower, and then brought to my room on a tray with a smile (and some semi-awkward small talk) was a fabulous way to begin my day. For the past week, I’ve been in San Antonio at this huge resort for the culmination of my internship with Sherri, the senior event planner for Wolters Kluwer—a tax and accounting company having their mid year sales meeting. I helped to register and direct attendees, made sure everyone knew when and where they needed to be, made everyone feel warm and welcome at all times, and ate and drank very well along the way.

Throughout the week I was fortunate enough to sample to all of the delicious meals that the attendees were treated to each day, but prior to their arrival I mainly noshed on room service’s finest. Day one I chose a breakfast special: fresh berries and yogurt, Special K cereal with milk, a toasted English muffin with peanut butter and jam, a small pot of coffee, a glass of fresh orange juice, and a petite blueberry crumble muffin. Jumping from eating a rice cake with peanut butter on my bed while checking the weather on my laptop to eating continental spread with a couch, a coffee table, and Matt, Al, and Ann was a welcome change.

On day two I decided to order something a that would make me feel more virtuous so I went for the “pastel omelet,” a mainly egg white omelet with fresh herbs folded in and roasted tomato with sea salt, a pot of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of pineapple, grapes, honeydew, and my beloved cantaloupe. Not bad, my friends.

As for the rest of the days, we employees helped ourselves to the attendees’ breakfast buffet once they’d had their fill and made it into their first class at 8:00, lending us to a variety of pastries, eggs, frittatas, sausage and bacon, jams and jellies, and any other breakfast staple you could imagine—but kicked up a notch. The food was delicious, however my eyes were always bigger than my stomach, and I missed listening to the Today Show instead of the drone of the escalators next to the office.

I thought I hated breakfast in bed. I thought it would be messy, and hard, and uncomfortable. I thought I would spill and make a mess and get irritated real quick. But alas, I found a new way—a more deluxe way if you ask me—to enjoy this luxurious trademark. The service, the comfort of your own room, and although I love to cook, the lack of effort that goes into enjoying a delicious breakfast this way definitely tickled my fancy.

chicarbonara and the chicken fight

I don't feel like I've been doing enough traveling of late. After spending a semester abroad in Barcelona--with trips to Paris, Prague, Milan, and Madrid--then returning to the US and heading straight to Oxford Ohio for Jac's graduation, retiring to Nashville for a tick just to shed some lbs and turn 21, then popping up to New York to spend the summer, and peppering my time there with a week in Florida and a weekend at the Cape, plus anticipating a week in San Antonio with my internship, I've been feeling a little cheated; I need more travel. Therefore, this weekend I decided to jump on a plane and head over to Chicago to stay with Jac and spend some time in the Windy City...well the Windy Suburbs I guess.

Jac and I decided that this weekend was going to be lazy: no dressing up, no big nights out on the town, no fuss; just a lot of watching movies and golf, catching some rays and a nice breeze by the lake, and as is necessary when you have a real, big, fully-equipped kitchen at your disposal, cooking a couple of delicious dinners.

I've said it once, and I'll say it again: he's picky. As we were discussing what we were going to make for dinner on Saturday night, every idea that I tossed out was met with a big fat "NO" from Jac. No to salmon, no to chicken, no to pork tenderloin, no to Mrs. Meador's pasta, no to lasagna. No, no, no, no, no. After calling up both of our mothers for help with dinner ideas and decision making, we finally decided on a type of pasta that is a take-off of one of my favorites, which we call Mrs. Meador's pasta. This dish is a simple mix of sausage, cream, arugula, parmesan, and of course pasta. For our dish however, we substituted the sausage with bacon--because let's be honest, who doesn't love bacon?--added a shallot and some white wine for a little extra sum-sum, and left out the arugula...because the spinach we thought we had in the refrigerator and were going to use as a substitute had since gone bad and was brown and runny. Ew.

The Chicarbonara Pasta (which is the name I have since decided upon because of its similarity to pasta carbonara and because it was created while in Chicago) was a big hit and it was gone in a flash. Leftovers didn't last long, and Mr. Connolly--typically not a pasta lover--even requested that Jac add it to his dinner repertoire for repeat offenses. Yes, we bickered a bit about what to make for dinner, but in the end everyone was happy. Night #1 - success.

Fajitas were on the menu for night #2 and I was planning to remake a recipe I'd used earlier this summer and received high marks from the Teren men; "These might be the best fajitas I've ever had, Mad!" my dad told me. I was certain that the Connolly men would feel the same. Fajitas are easy, fast, delicious, and the perfect opportunity for Jac to show off his grilling expertise...or so I thought. I imagined he would be thrilled at the prospect of impressing me on the grill, however Jac had different plans in mind as far as the preparation of the chicken goes. Jac was 100% convinced that in Mexican restaurants the fajita chicken is cooked on the griddle along with the peppers and onions, therefore giving the chicken more flavor. I, on the other hand, was convinced that the chicken was grilled first, giving it a nice char, and then added to the cooking veggies to meld flavors. We were on opposite sides of the fence, and neither Stubborn Jac nor Stubborn Mad were giving up.

True to form, I gave up. I'm such a kind, giving, and selfless girlfriend that I agreed to prepare the chicken Jac's way. We marinated it using my marinade, but he cut it up into small pieces for the marinating process, we cooked it in the pan like he wanted, and even added extra spices from the McCormick fajita-flavored spice packet like he requested. Things were not going my way.

I'll admit I was skeptical. I'll admit things in the kitchen might have gotten a tad heated. I'll even admit that I voiced my doubt and disgust about the spice packet we'd dumped onto our fajita fillings. But I also have to admit that they were good. Really good. Delicious. The chicken was very flavorful, juicy, and tender, and the veggies were cooked to perfection. Jac threw the tortillas into the oven so they were soft and warm, and also laid out a spread of shredded cheese, fresh guacamole, sour cream, and chunky salsa for fajita toppings. Three bell peppers, 4 chicken breasts, an onion, 1/2 lb. of guacamole, and 8 flour tortillas vanished into thin air. There wasn't a crumb left. High five Jac and Mads. Night #2 - success.

Sure, his way was good--cooking the chicken in the pan with the vegetables--but Jac knows that I do not like to lose a fight. So I did a little research on fajitas. And just so we're all clear on this...

A fajita ( /fəˈhiːtə/; Spanish pronunciation: [faˈxita]) is a term found in both traditional Mexican cuisine and in Tex-Mex cuisine,^[1] commonly referring to any grilled meat served on a flour or corn tortilla.

I win.

And she's two for two, ladies and gents!

the lunch spot

Lunch. It is without a doubt the best part of the work day; it's the one time of day when you get to escape your cube, office, or in my case closet, and venture out into the sunshine to refuel your body. The fresh air, the food, and if you're lucky enough to be close, the friends always put a little more pep in your step to help you finish off the day strong.

As I am living the life of a struggling, poor, unpaid, and trying-to-be-healthy intern, I can't afford to pop on over to my favorite salad place at Chelsea Market, grab a low-cal wrap from Pret a Manger, or treat myself to the baked salmon with roasted veggies at the restaurant next door every day for lunch. I've got to be frugal. Thus, I've turned to brown-bagging it. I pack myself a variety of options for lunch, ranging from rolls of turkey and cheese, to Trader Joe's gazpacho soup, to sugar snap peas or edamame, to fresh fruit from the fruit stand man. There are so many good treats to be had and delicious dinners on which to dine here in NYC, that I find it's better I save my money; have a lame lunch so I can enjoy a fun evening instead.

Since the beginning of my time I've always had a "spot" at which I like to eat my lunch. As a toddler I knew where everyone sat and whose bib went with which child in playschool. In elementary school my friend Sarah and I always insisted sitting opposite each other at the end of our class's table, while Marybeth and Clair switched off sitting next to us each day. In high school my friends and I had what we called "The Lunch Table" which was a specific round table at which our exclusive group of six sat and ate in the dining room every day; we celebrated every member's birthday with decorations, songs, and treats, and shared many a laugh and many a tear at that table as well. True to form, I have found my special lunch spot to which I return each day here in the city. After finally breaking out of the cold, fluorescent office, my lunch spot welcomes me with cute green tables, surprisingly comfortable silver mesh chairs, and plenty of open air and sunshine.

I'm fairly certain that these little eating spots are actually scattered all throughout the city. I know that these same tables and chairs reside at the garden in Union Square and I believe I've seen them in other locations, but I am fortunate enough to have this perfect outside eatery where I can bring my bag of surprises to dine in the shine right next to my office. Talk about conveinence.

Here, I like to dawn my Kim Kardashian shades and watch the world go by without anyone knowing I'm watching them. I can catch a few rays and soak up some extra Vitamin D, or hide under an umbrella in order to escape the heat. On a day like today, when the high temperature is 83, there's a nice breeze running through my hair, and the humidity is nothing close to what I would be experiencing in Nashville right about now, eating lunch at my special spot outside is the perfect way to find a pleasant break in the middle of my day.

sushi sushi sushi

Summer "Spring" Rolls

When people ask me what my favorite food is, I never respond with one definite answer. Because I like so many things, I have a difficult time choosing just one to which I will pledge my allegiance. More often than not however, my favorite selection is narrowed down to two things: peanut butter or sushi.

In Nashville, sushi restaurants have popped up all over the city in the past ten years or so, but RuSans is by far my favorite; I brag about it to my friends at school, have celebrated many a birthday there, and make a point to visit almost every time I go home.

In Oxford, Ohio where I go to school in the middle of nowhere, there aren't so many sushi options. Kroger's sushi is actually pretty tasty, Tonic Bar and Lounge has okay rolls but the fish can be a bit suspect, and the dining halls make some variations of this Japanese delight but I've been a little too weary to stomach one of those. Sushi Nara, which took the place of the old Alexander House, opened in the spring of my sophomore year and is by far the best spot for sushi, pad thai, and of course sake bombs at Miami University.

Clearly I've tried my fair share of these ricey rolls, but I've been looking even more forward to putting some all-star sushi to the test at Haru restaurant in New York City.

Haru is actually a New York City and Boston chain (gasp--my mother would be appalled...and normally so would I at a chain) with seven locations scattered throughout NYC. Since my friends and I had tickets to a comedy show in Times Square on Saturday night, we thought Haru would be the perfect place to grab a bite (or thirty) before our big night out. The restaurant was only three blocks from the comedy club, with the Hershey store smack dab in the middle, and we couldn't have been happier campers.

Kajida Bloody Mary

Of course when out on the town--or out on the city?--with a group of girls, things are bound to get a little silly. We sat down at our table at Haru, took a speedy look at the drink menu, and scooted our off waiter to concoct our cocktails while we mused over the menu. I ordered the Kajida Bloody Mary, made with wasabi, jalapeño, ginger and shichimi...whatever that is, while my friends all ordered the fruity and sweet Berry Kiss. Our cocktails came and went quickly, so naturally we decided it was time for some sake. We ordered a round of sake bombs for the table, which actually ended up lasting us for two, and in the end were given a complimentary round on the house! Guess it pays to be slightly inebriated, acting silly, and chatting too much with your waiter (who doesn't quite understand you).

Although we were drinking a little bit, it certainly didn't hinder my ability to select a suitable sushi dish to satisfy my seafood craving. Sure, I've done the Crunchy Shrimp, California, and Spicy Tuna Rolls time and time again, but to be quite frank, I'm over it. Both RuSans and Sushi Nara come through in the clutch when it comes to originality, and Haru was no different--they didn't disappoint. After looking through the menu for a full ten minutes and finally forcing myself to shut it so I wouldn't continue to befuddle myself over what to order, I selected the Golden Passion Roll and the Summer Spring Roll. I couldn't come this far and only get one thing--this was my big night out.

Golden Passion Roll

The Golden Passion Roll, asparagus, shitake mushrooms, carrots, and avocado, covered in rice and topped with charred white tuna and little yellow fish eggs was mouth watering. Put two of my favorite veggies and one of my favorite kinds of fish in a roll, add some carrot and some avocado, and you've got my number, pal. Golden Passion was both crunchy and creamy; made of the perfect combination of textures and flavors--ideal to eat in the summer. The Summer Spring Roll complimented it very nicely, as it was a lighter roll filled with shrimp and vegetables, and served with a spicy tomato soy sauce. Thus, I had both the spice from the Spring Roll soy sauce, and the creaminess from the avocado in the Golden Passion Roll to balance each other out. When our food arrived, the conversation quickly came to a halt and we gobbled down every last grain of rice on our big white platters.

Since the tempura banana dessert didn't have quite enough chocolate in it to appease Stef and me, we stopped by the Hershey store and bought a bag of Reeces Peanut Butter Cups to satisfy our sweet tooth, and finally each bought two Cosmopolitans at the comedy club--it was required...I guess they think the alcohol will make you laugh more.

Sure, it was a lavish night, but it was completely worth it, and I felt like Carrie Bradshaw living the big life, and enjoying a fabulous night out on the city, drinking Cosmos, and being with my girlfriends.

Amy, Jenna, Erica, Me, Stef

India in my heart

Its no secret that I like to go out to eat. Every time I come home to Nashville from school for a weekend or a break my dad always asks me, "Where are you gonna go first Mad??" I have my tried-and-true establishments that I must stop by while I'm back in the ville, and I have my tried-and-true items that I am sure to order every time I visit. When I'm in a new place, however, I love to venture out into unknown territories; I like to try new tastes, new places, new anything.

I like almost every kind of food. Even if I haven't tried it yet, I'm sure I'll enjoy it. Thai food? Don't think I've ever been to a real Thai restaurant, but I don't doubt I'd lick my plate. Ethiopian food? I hear you don't use utensils and must get down and dirty, but I'm always up for a messy adventure. Luckily, even though there are many varieties of ethnic foods I have yet to devour, I am presently living in New York City, where every single obscure morsel from all over the world can be found and tasted.

Thursday night, Stefanie--my roommate--and I chose Indian food. I tell people that I like Indian food, and I even tell them that I love it, but the truth of the matter is that I have only actually eaten Indian food two maybe three times in my entire life. Of course I had delicious experiences, but I don't think that those few meals necessarily make me an Indian food lover or connoisseur. Therefore, I turned to yelp.com to help navigate my way through the abundance of Indian establishments scattered throughout the city. I narrowed it down to both my neighborhood and my price range, and after reading a number of reviews and finding a place with high stars, I chose Heart of India.

Tandoori Chicken

When we walked into Heart of India at 7:45, the restaurant wasn't hoppin to say the least; there were 4 other tables with people seated at them, out of probably 18 total. Since we'd had a few drinks at the wine bar next door before dinner, Stef, Erica (who is in town for the weekend) and I went into the slightly desolate joint undeterred. We sat down, took a peek at the menu, and immediately befriended our waiter Sabbir. Throughout the rest of the evening, we could be heard singing "Sabbie!" "Sabbilicious!" "Sab dabby doobie!" and the likes in hopes of getting his attention.

Palak Chaat

As for our food, we didn't take anything lightly. Heart of India was offering a special of the day that offered a glass of beer or wine, appetizer, main course, and dessert for $19.99. All three of us drank, appetized, and entreed, and we all shared everything we'd gotten. I ordered the Palak Chaat for my appetizer, which includes fried spinach drizzled with olive oil and drizzled with sweet yogurt sauce, and date tamarind chutney. For my main entree, I ordered the Lamb Rogan Josh, cooked with fried onions, tomatoes, garam masala and chili, and served with plenty of basmati rice, and the best tandoori naan I've ever had. Erica got the classic Tandoori Chicken with onions and Stefanie the Chicken Tiki Masala, served in a tomato and onion cream sauce, and there was barely a bite left to spare of anything by the time we were done. Although our menu included dessert, we had our eyes on a different spot to fulfill our sweet tooth and therefore swindled Sabbir into giving us a second glass of wine in place of our dessert--of course, he couldn't turn down three beautiful "sis"ters as he called us...

dinner spread

Erica's 1st time in the City/ eating Indian

Although I had to be rolled out of Heart of India, I still left in very high spirits and eagerly anticipating the 6 blocks ahead of me in which I would walk off about one bite of my naan bread and empty out just enough to have a crepe at the sweet shop right below our dorm.


In New York there are simply too many places: too many restaurants to try, too many sweets to eat, and too many temptations to throw you off course. Since I'm only here for 2 months, I figure I better take full advantage of it while I can. You only live once, right??

You ever had Cape Cod chips in Cape Cod?

Fourth of July Weekend.

It's the All-American holiday: celebrating our nation's birth and independence, sporting your red, white, and blue, eating All-American fare like hot dogs, hamburgers, potato chips, and cupcakes, and having a few cold ones while you catch some rays by the water. Of course, I take part in each and every one of these aforementioned activities on the Fourth of July, and I've always done so in my hometown of Nashville, Tennessee. 

This means I celebrate our nation's independence at the Whitland Parade, waving at the kids riding by on their bikes and scooters decorated with streamers, and singing along with the Nashville Symphony as they play some of America's greatest patriotic anthems. I eat my annual grilled hot dog with ketchup, mustard, and glee, and grab a diet coke from one of the iced down canoes that are filled with sodas and perched on every street corner. Then it's off to the pool where I go diving for some not-so-cold bevvies in the water, watch the kids scramble for airheads and ringpops in the water, and finally search in vain for a lawn chair so I can get my glaze on and have a 4th of July glow for the party later that evening. We watch fireworks from Love Circle, a spot just up the street from my house where you can get the best view of the Nashville "skyline" and see fireworks going off all around the city. Shortly after, the partying ensues, and then before we know it 4th of July is history.

In the spirit of my theme for the year--doing things differently, making changes, and not just sticking to the same ole, same ole--I ventured to places unknown for the holiday of the summer. Jac's family has a house in Cape Cod, so it was there that I celebrated both our Nation's and Jac's brother Nick's birthdays with his family and a few of our friends...well 10 of them.

There were 13 of us staying at the Connolly's when you include the three girls, Grace, Fran, and Mrs., meaning that Mrs. Conn was providing food for 13 people. For each meal. For three days. And she treated us right. We had appetizers every night before dinner, including chips and salsa, pretzels with mustard sauce, hummus and home-baked pita chips, and my favorite, crackers with pesto-drizzled cheese and cherry tomatoes. At dinner, we ate a variety of grilled proteins such as hamburgers, chicken breasts, italian sausages, and steak. Meals were accompanied with umpteen hundred sides: Cape Cod potato chips ("Have you ever eaten Cape Cod chips in Cape Cod, Mad?" Jac said to me every time); four-cheese macaroni with fontina, bleu, ricotta, and goat cheeses; potatoes roasted with garlic and onion; fresh baked garlic and herb bread; and a variety of delicious mixed salads with nuts, veggies, and avocado--as my mom always says, a salad always tastes so much better when someone else invents it. This was not Mrs. Connolly's first rodeo; in the past the boys have had upwards of 20 friends up to the cape for the 4th, so this year seemed like a "small group."

 

On our last night we celebrated the two births with an American cake: yellow cake with cream cheese frosting, and raspberries and blueberries made an American flag on top for a festive vibe. We sang Happy Birthday to Nick, then sang the national anthem, and raised our glasses to a very fun weekend. Although we all ended up traveling back to our respective homes on the actual 4th of july holiday, the entire weekend felt like 4th of July; the cape was beautiful, the company was awesome, and the food was delicious!

Frogmore Stew

The Teren Family Reunion: We had 15 people. We were made up of 4 separate family units. We were from 4 different states. We were there for 7 days. We had 21 meals. We went on about 150 grocery runs. And we had 7 dinners.

Gram and Pop took the reins on nights #1 and #2, the Osborns had night #3, the Tennessee Terens night #4, New York Terens night #5, and from that point on I wasn't there, people slowly started to thin out, and quite frankly without my presence dinner just wasn't the same so it doesn't matter what went on those final 2 nights.

When cooking for 15 people, you have to think on a grander scale, yet you have to think simple. Gram and Pop did burgers and dogs one night, they served pasta another, and Tina did chicken for her meal. But Mom and I were going for the big WOW with our feast. We wanted to make something different, something fun, and something memorable. We chose Frogmore.

The first time I had Frogmore Stew--which is graced with a name that I think sounds like something amphibious, slightly smelly, and thick n' heavy--was last summer in Charleston, South Carolina.

Now, Charleston is a hot place in the summer; temperatures are almost always in the 90s or above, the air is humid, your body is sticky, and the last thing I would ever dream of eating is some sort of stew. To me stew is a wintery meal; something that cooks for a long period of time either on the stove top or in the oven at a low heat, slowly simmering and cooking the meat so that it's incredibly tender, and melding together the flavors of every spice, vegetable, and protein that constitutes this heavy mixture. Frogmore Stew, however, is no stew of this kind.

This summer stew consists of just a few ingredients: old bay seasoning (and perhaps other spices, however I didn't do that part so I can't be sure), new potatoes, corn on the cob, shrimp, and kielbasa. Then all there is to actually cooking this stew is boiling some water, throwing all the ingredients in a pot, draining them out, and dumping them onto a table covered in newspaper! No real chopping, no day-long process, no oven, no heavy food.

Although Gram was nervous about the table, at least four of the kids were scared of the shrimp, and we made waaaay to much salad to accompany the stew, Mom's and my meal was a huge success. We had fun getting a little dirty pealing the shrimp, getting corn stuck in our teeth, and getting to throw potatoes at each other across the table--just kidding. Clean-up was a sinch, as we just rolled up all the newspaper and threw it in the garbage, then wiped the newsprint off the table, but best of all there were plenty of leftovers for me to scarf down the next day for lunch: add a little corn to some left over salad, and peel a few shrimp to eat on the side? I was in Frogmore Heaven.