the south’s dirty little secret

I signed up for a second gym membership today. That’s how it goes when you travel. After an hour or so of vigorous exercise, I was 150% certain that always having a gym readily accessible is fully worth the two separate payments. With fresh blood to my brain and my mood extraordinarily improved, I worked up a hearty post-gym appetite.

At home, rummaging through my bare cabinets (I just moved in last week; there wasn’t much to rummage through) and tiny refrigerator, I stumbled upon the South’s dirty little secret.

Actually they may have a few…


I resent the South for keeping this from me. I beseech on behalf of everyone north of the Masion-Dixon line: Why? And I swear, when I return home, I will bring grits with me.

Fish and Grits. A dinner for one.

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I confess, it was supposed to be a dinner for two or rather a dinner for one and lunch for that same one the next day, but the cheesy, buttery grits were that delicious.

And a brief word of advice: Eat fabulously.


rivers and roads

A new life here in New Braunfels, Tx. It was hard leaving from my visit in Pittsburgh.

There’s something quaint and cozy about that town. Between rolling hills and steel bridges, it bares composition. The familiarity was deeply comforting, even more so as I’ve been traveling for the last 3 months. I felt the warm sense of home tucked away in the steel city.

All the way from Pittsburgh: Food porn, compliments of E2. I was going to order the risotto, but these meatballs looked badass.

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Back in New Braunfels, a new job. A new apartment. A new resolution. I told myself I would live differently for a bit. Less connected. More simply. That I’d cut out means of mindless cognitive stimulation (excessive television, excessive facebook, excessive anything) and invest in mind and body.

A celebratory supper. For myself. By myself.

grilled salmon burger. trader joe's hummus dressing. trader joe's cowboy caviar. jalapenos.

grilled salmon burger. trader joe’s hummus dressing. trader joe’s cowboy caviar. jalapenos. I missed trader joe’s.

And now… my retreat.

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From somewhere between Austin and San Antonio.



Hello Rockport: I am now a self-proclaimed birder…and lover of all that is Texas BBQ.

Hello Rockport…

First, Rockport as viewed from the EcoPod:

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Rockport, Tx.

Quaint yet cultured. Perhaps likened to a city in layers of complexity and, in that regard, the antithesis of a suburb.

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Ahhhh Rockport,  a beach devoid of flashy signs and cheap boardwalk souveriors. Full of sea life and bird life. It is the resting place of birds following their grueling decent across the Gulf, and proudly proclaimed, bird-watching-capital-of-the-world (bird watching is quite interesting once you simply begin to take interest). It’s a rocky shore, but if you perch yourself on just-the-right-rock, I daresay you could lose yourself for hours, watching the blue heron’s stealth and ever-persistent attempts to steal bait from savvy  fisherman (says a self-proclaimed birder).

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And lover of all that is Texas BBQ….

Formerly (and  briefly) a vegan, any attempts at a meatless life were utterly destroyed when I moved to Texas. The meat is so good here. Over the last 3 months, the sensory and pleasure portions of my brain light up furiously with the briefest scent of slow roasting, smoking meat. I’ve bought brisket from steakhouses, rodeos, and now, off the side of the road (and I must admit, brisket is best bought on a whim…when the smoky fragrance violates your senses while driving 80 mph on a 2 lane, almost-dirt road).

Nevertheless, brisket is a delectable, prime cut of beef…appropriate for (almost) any dining occasion.