Journal : OpenRoadWorks

Artichoke before... It was bound to happen.  When encountering oft-eaten but never-prepared items, one is venturing onto thin ice, from where the cracks and melting can cause one to fall in.  Or something like that. This Saturday was meant to be an evening in Roma, one of my all-time favorite cities in the world.  I spent quite a few lovely days there in my youth and cemented my crush on Audrey Hepburn by lilting through the 1954 film Roman Holiday (don't worry, my wife approves), so I thought what better way to celebrate an early-returning spring than to hearken back to the eternal city.  We were going to do so by starting with the proverbial Jewish Artichokes, a great antipasto that takes young artichokes and basically fries them in olive oil, leaving crispy leaves to peel off and nibble the edges.  The sort of young artichoke required is a common ingredient in the food stalls of Roman markets but not in the produce section of my local grocery.  S...

Nothing like polishing off a brownie with ice cream Just as Wendy and I polished off our final dessert before Lent kicked in (ok - a few days late, but it really starts now!), I have polished off 10 entries along the journey to create 100 entries for the year.  Of course, I'm a bit behind if I allocate evenly across the calendar - I should have roughly 16-17 by now - but I'm making progress.  Step-by-step, as I tell my team when working a tough challenge - the incremental efforts add up to something meaningful.  So I guess I can take my own advice and log this entry for posterity, catching up to where I should be and enjoying the pursuit along the way.

Ruby on the move It's been over a year since we rescued Ruby from a woman who took her in from a high-kill shelter.  This one-eyed Pomeranian has become ingrained in our life and has increasingly burrowed into the daily fabric of our household, so much so that our departures from the house now incite pure wailing from this small pup (no more than 5 pounds or 2.2 kilos!) in such a way as to create the impression that she is grappling with threats to her very existence. But we know better.  For all the trauma she suggests she is encountering, it has become apparent that this wailing is used as a ploy to regain our attention, in the hopes that she could take the same travels as us and not stay "cooped up" in the powder room that acts as her open-air cage when we are out on extended jaunts.  When we come back, we find the house expectantly quiet, expectantly because we know it is only a matter of delayed seconds before she starts crying again. ...

Heading to the Helmsley Sometimes I work in NYC, and this is my office.  More precisely, there is a desk in the upper floors of this distinctive building that has a major thoroughfare running through it that I inhabit while typing up documents and conducting meetings in the city.  It is nothing exceptional, usually the work and sometimes the desk at which I sit, but the surrounding city is commanding, ever-thriving, and never-still. If I pay close enough attention, I am reminded of the countless things that make this city unique among the many cities I have had the pleasure to live in and visit.  But on this brisk morning, when winter gusts barrel down Park Avenue as I hustle the blocks from Lex to the building entrance security guards, I pause long enough to snap this picture.  That pause is enough reminder that I am lucky to be here, and New York City is ready to give me its best shot (I'm still not sure if the city is better personified male or female). ...

Nighttime over Lex Once upon a time, I looked out similar windows to discover the end of a brief relationship.  Once upon a time, I looked out similar windows to fret over the first date that would change everything.  It was only a few months between those vistas, and when I come back to look down on the same Lexington Avenue nearly seven years later, I am enchanted. Life has a way of winding past the same curves in the road but taking those turns at different speeds, catching familiar bends and traversing them differently than we remembered.  I catch myself in a moment, pausing to contemplate what meaning there might be in returning to this same hotel, with the same view, with the same longing for something else than sitting this night in a hotel room. Ah, but the circumstances are quite different.  My first once upon a time was a dud, made crueler by the "Xanadu" moment of crafting one of my more brilliant poems (if I say so myself) in anguish to a lost re...

Scallops Provencal, prepared lovingly by my beautiful wife For our second weekend of culinary experimentation, we journeyed along the coast from Italy into France, visiting the Mediterranean cuisine of Provence, famous for more simple, fresh ingredients - and seafood.  Provence was a favorite stomping grounds of the Romans, being one of the first lands outside of "the boot" that came under Roman rule, and they found its warm climate and beautiful landscape a nice place to repose. For this week's meal, we went for dishes that were light and centered on different types of seafood.  First, it was lemon shrimp with garlic linguine, a refreshing preparation that married the lemon zest with a bit of garlic spice on thin pasta, with the shrimp soaking up the remains deliciously.  Then, we went on to Scallops Provencal , slightly dusted, fried in butter, and combined with a luscious concoction of onions, parsley, shallots, olive oil, spices, more lemon, and white wine. ...

A new tradition, inspired by our recent trip to New Orleans .  After experiencing the distinctive flavors of Cajun cuisine, we decided to make Saturdays a date night where we shop and cook together for a different set of new dishes and new flavors that we have not tried before.  First up was cucina toscana , a taste and a place that I look forward to revisiting soon.  But on this blustery winter night, we settled for a big pot and an indoor grill at home. The Tuscan region of Italy is known for rustic foods, earthy ingredients, and flavorful combinations simply prepared.  For our first effort, we decided on a winter minestrone with the classic florentine steak.  It would have included a preparation of Brussels sprouts, but halfway through our preparation of the minestrone, we realized that it would be more than we would be able to eat. The minestrone d'inverno , or winter minestrone, is a typical sort of Italian dish, which relies on sea...

I just returned from New Orleans.  Interesting city, which got me thinking - what has become of the cities of our grandparents and great-grandparents?  Would they recognize the world in which we live every day?  What would they think of it and why? I ponder these thoughts in relation to wandering Vieux Carre', or the French Quarter, over the course of several days.  My first reaction was some level of disappointment.  My second reaction was some level of intrigue.  My third reaction was some level of comfort in the waves of humanity that have washed over the quarter.  My fourth reaction was some feeling of blankness for what the quarter has now become.  It led me to read a book on the quarter called Madame Vieux Carre': The French Quarter in the Twentieth Century .  I was curious as to what the twentieth century had brought to that part of the city and what life after Hurricane Katrina looked like.  In short, fullness to emptiness. ...