Kansas Jo Comes Blowing into Town

I would be lying if I said I was without my concerns about Jo's impending arrival. She too felt the familiar panic as the date of her JFK landing drew near. We know we are like sisters and we are both fiercely independent, but above all, we knew that her arrival would change everything for us.

After settling into my new life of solitude, the proposition of once again sharing my home was a perplexing one. As with all change in life, it is best to accept it at face value, not try to make it resemble your old life and open yourself up to the stunning possibilities. With that idea in mind, I honored my last evening alone by curling up on the couch with pizza and having a good lazy session.

Thursday evening she blew into town and brought with her a latent, nervous energy that fueled a manic two week bender. We started off with dinner and many drinks at Yuca Bar in the East Village, stumbling home to pass clean out. The next day we wandered the city. New York was the first dear friend of mine I had the pleasure of introducing her to. That evening I hosted an insane Koreatown Karaoke party and introduced her to the good, the bad and the ugly in my fair group.

The next week was a boozy, non-stop parade of introductions and late nights. She met my Gay Godfather for brunch, my neurotic Gossip Girl Kaitlin, had an epic dinner with my friend Nelson, several girls nights with Em and a disastrous night out in the Lower East Side. In between these activities, I continued meeting up with my various amigos individually.

I drank, I slept little and I still made it to the gym most days. I was filled with an energy that threatened to consume me if I stopped for even one moment.

By the second week, we were finding our footing. We began sleeping soundly, staying in a night or two and truly enjoying the new life forming around us.

My energy is dipping, (perhaps back to a more human level!) I am craving food over wine, and it has begun to just feel like life. Without changing a thing, simply inviting her into my world, it has enriched it for me. If it is possible, she allowed me to fall even more in love with my city, my friends, my life.

I feel it is honest to say that her presence has always made me sentimental, especially when it comes to D. This held true for the first few days, perhaps part of the reason I was running like my life depended on it was that I was afraid of some piece of me or my old life she might take me back to, but with my attention drawn back to all the people and adventures at my fingertips, the sentiment drifted away and was replaced with all the burning glory of things yet to come. As we slowed our pace and began to talk I found myself face to face with someone as brand new as I am. She is no longer stuck in the desert where we first met, she is free and ready to charge into the horizon with me. We are finally both free to live and dream and feel as we never where able to in our old world. She is no longer a reminder of the past, but a vibrant part of my journey into the future. Yes, my sister is here and I am seeing her for the first time as she was always meant to be.

She is thinking of coming here to stay, and walking along through the East Village, watching her and Emily laughing, I could barely stand to hope it. That much joy is to scary to even hope for. Could I actually have it all? I may not yet be completely settled into my new life with Kansas Jo, but I am having one hell of a ride.

Tamale War Zone

I began preparing for battle last weekend with a scouting trip to Essex Market. I had to find corn masa as well as a few other Hispanic ingredients. It is trickier that you might think to track down these items, even in New York. Upon arrival, I knew I had found the mecca of Mexican ingredients in Manhattan!

They had the elusive masa, amazing piles of produce and the lingering aroma of cilantro and peppers. I purchased my ingredients and splurged on some real animal lard! Everything was dirt cheap, what a coup!

I finally made my way home and, poof, lost my motivation. The masa and corn husks stayed in my fridge, questioningly looking at me, for another week. I had an EWI new members even the following Saturday and I decided to make pork buns (yes, I am a procrastinator!), fate had other ideas though. Unable to find pork belly on such short notice, I was forced to face my opponent. The day of the event no less!

It is generally a bad idea to be in a rush when trying a new recipe, but apparently I like to do things the hard way! To make sure I was making a good, authentic dough, I pulled several recipes to compare. They were all similar enough, I felt confident enough to get started. I distinctly remember that the first recipe I studies said to use half of a 4 lb. bag of masa, the second recipe concurred that 2 cups of masa should be combined with 3 cups of stock or broth.

I dumped the four in my bowl, nearly overflowing, and added the broth. Huh. It still looked pretty dry. At that moment I realized I was an idiot. Yes, yes, I'm sure you caught the 2 lb versus 2 cup issues right away. Well, I was rushing. Ok, fine, I will increase everything in the recipe. Yeaaah, well, that mixing bowl was not going to be accommodating and other six cups of stock! I just laughed at my oh, so typical folly and pulled down a pasta pot. Desperation is the mother of invention, and the clock was ticking.

As I desperately mixed, splattering masa, water and broth all over my tiny kitchen/apartment I decided to just go for it. I threw down the spoon like a gauntlet and started kneading with my bare hands. I mixed and added until I had two bowls of dough. Going for the consistency of peanut butter, I dipped my finger in one bowl and then the other, desperately trying to remember what peanut butter felt like! Were we talking warm peanut butter or cold? Screw it, I picked a bowl and started adding clumps of whipped lard.

One site had given the tip that the dough was ready when a small pinch of it floated in a glass of water. That indicates that enough air has been whipped in. I pushed my trusty hand mixer to the max, and the first pinch did not float. I kept mixing and praying that I did not kill my mixer in the process. This was a war and I was not backing down!

In the mean time, I had the husks soaking in my sink and I have to admit, they smelled like wet dog. I tried to ignore this disturbing fact and began putting together my filling. I believe in working smarter, not harder, so I used some pre-cooked carnitas and some Cuban black beans. I also am cheap and wanted to stretch the expensive pork! I seasoned it up and it was good to go.

Alright, go time. I laid down a towel and began pulling my husks out of the sink. I spread the masa, again with my fingers, and put dainty spoonfuls of the pork mixture down the middle. I used the method described online to roll and wrap the little buggers, and they looked pretty damn cool!

About five tamales in, my back started aching from bending over the counter and I made the executive decision to make twenty of them instead of the fifty recommended! As long as there was enough for the party, I would deal with the left over masa later. I wrapped and wrapped and got them all done. Exhausted and in a rush, I jumped in a cab and headed downtown.

I arrived and set-up the steamer, only about ten of them fit in the little pot. I fired-up the burner and poured myself a big glass of wine. Guests were due to arrive in just over an hour. Nothing like testing a new recipe on unsuspecting strangers!

After about an hour, it was the moment of truth. I gingerly pulled out a tamale and unwrapped it. They were good! They were really good! Ha! Take that you tamale bastards!

I decided to cut them into bite sized pieces and set them out for the party. They would be cold, but whattaya gonna do? They seemed to go over well, and as the party wore on I started fishing out fresh, hot tamales and serving them. The hot ones were much more popular, go figure.

All in all, I would have to say that the reverence given to the art of tamale making, the near mythic level of difficulty assigned to this task, is a total exaggeration. They were not that difficult. A bit time consuming? Yes. Messy? Yes. Rocket Science? No. I say this, though the extra masa dough is still sitting in my fridge! Regardless, I came, I steamed, I conquered! That is enough for me.

Courting the Oven

I have likened cooking and sex before in this blog. I see them as our most basic, visceral pleasures. I suppose it stands to reason then that my interest in both has wained at the moment. I think this is due to another similarity between these beautiful things: the intimacy.

I have these thoughts bouncing around this morning because I have a cooking event coming up tomorrow night. Since "the break-up", I have not touched my stove. My appetite has returned (thank you PMS) but I have not been able to bring myself to cook. Cooking is such a beautiful, lively, exuberant thing for me. It seems that lately it has felt as inappropriate as intercourse!

The theme of this dinner party is "Favorite Ingredients". This is a challenge on my best day, there are so many things I adore! My two favorite things, in this order, are vegetables and pork! Delicate, fulfilling and under appreciated and utter decadence! I want to highlight nature's bounty: mushrooms or brussel sprouts or artichokes or spinach or collard greens, mmm! I must say though, there is very little that a few crumbles of bacon doesn't enhance.

The other challenge is a new member of our little group, a vegetarian. Many are outraged at her stance and think me mad for allowing it. Yes, my group is a passionate one! She happens to be one of the guests tomorrow, and though she insists that we cook what we like, I do feel a bit obligated to cater to her. The outrage of the group is beginning to make more sense! It is the fact that I adore vegetables that makes me feel pressure to defend her. I just didn't think about the fact that I enjoy adding the swine to most of my veggies. Hmm. Well, inspiration don't fail me now!

I just can't get into it, I was reading recipes last night (food porn) and just kept thinking, egh. The harder I try, the stronger my mental block becomes. My most recent obsession is beets, but I have been hard pressed to find one in it's natural state. Besides, I want to "wow" people with the lushness vegetables are capable of! I want people to see them as I do; as beautiful and filled with a simple, lusty decadence all their own. I suppose that may be my problem, I am still trying to coax myself back into that very state!

Well, I am on my way. My beautiful city smiled down at me yesterday, I have Dean Martin crooning to me on Pandora (while my sad record player looks on in horror!), the familiar sense of excitement is returning to my mornings and the usual sly smile is playing on my lips at this very moment! It will come to me. I will don my pearls and some semblance of my summer vintage wardrobe, go out into my city and let it come to me.

If not, I suppose I could re-work one of my classics; stuffed braised artichokes, stuffed mushrooms, eggplant Parmesan stacks, spinach-tomato-garlic pizza. I really want to do something new! Create something amazing....

I think I have a back-up plan though, I will perfect a classic. I can make eggplant Parmesan sliders. I will saute beautiful little slices of fresh bread, top them with the parm and slice them into lovely bites. Perhaps not the most original idea, but I swear, they could make even the most vigilant carnivore question his ideals! Yes, perhaps that is what I will do.

There are more dinner parties to come, countless dishes to be created, life is long and I have plenty of time. You can't rush inspiration anymore than you can turn the clock forward or back. For now, I will relax in the knowledge that spring comes after winter every year and I can see glimpses of new growth even now.

Hello 2010!

It was great to be with the EWI crew again on Tuesday! We braved the disgusting, frigid weather on the way to Purple Yam, and it was actually worth it. We six ladies ate our way through a good chunk of the menu, and everything was delicious. It was probably the best meal I have had in the past few months. Even more than that, it was good for my soul to be with my people again. The joy this group has brought me is overwhelming. When I start to really think about the fact that this amazing group of 35 people see me as their "leader" (a title that makes me blush), I am awe struck.

I am not shy or all that humble, but I am honored and humbled by the recognition they give me. Bringing people together around a passion so near and dear to me is like a dream. One of my members told me the other day that the key to groups like ours is the leader. She said that "If you don't really like the founder, the group is going to suck, no matter what the theme is". Wow. I am so completely real with these people, and they love me. It is a feeling I have never really had before and it floors me. I need them and they need me. Eating With Impunity is truly my baby.

We have rescheduled the Beer and Cheese Fete for a week from Saturday, but I decided to spring a last minute brunch on the group for this Saturday. Whether one or ten, I am going to have a good time! All about me you know! It is a bit scary, but that has been a theme of mine lately. I care about other people deeply, but for the first time in my life, I am really focusing on just making myself happy. Hopefully this is healthy and not the beginning of my slow decent into narcissism!

This sentiment carries over to my relationship with D. too. I blame it on my new attempts to "act my age", but I am finding myself thinking in terms of "me" and not "we". I have stepped back and I don't think that it is inappropriate. I am 25, unmarried and have my whole life ahead of me. I am no more ready to settle down now than I was when I was playing house at 19, the difference is, now I know it.

Well, 2009 is on it's way out. The parties begin in a few hours. Nine and a half hours from now 2010 will be here, filled with all the possibility, adventure and hope of a new born child. This has been a good year, for the first time in my life I am certain that the next will be even more beautiful. This year I came back to life: I truly met my brother for the first time, I fell in love with a city, I transformed my life, I found my passion and I re-discovered hope. There was sadness, there was pain, but it was all overshadowed by joy. I have so much love in my life, it is overwhelming.

I seem to have lived and died so many times over the last 25 years, thank God I am so alive on the eve of 2010. Thank God for my beautiful friends, old and new. Thank God for the city that took my breath away. Thank God for my strong, resilient heart that still somehow has the capacity to give and receive even after all the heartbreak. I am exactly where I want to be and who I want to be, it can only get better from here.

Forever Young

Reading through my recent blogs I have noticed a pattern. It seems that I have gotten a bit caught up in a melancholy tone. I suppose my humorous outlook needs a rest once and a while, I often let all the melancholy out here. I must remember that depression is not art or visaversa! This blog is about my life, and I refuse to believe that it has been as dark as I have made it sound. There has been a bit of a tempest in my mind lately, but I am a true believer in the idea that it is you and not your circumstances that shape your outlook.

There have not been any EWI events since the wild, wild Holiday Mixer a few weeks ago. There was a beer and cheese event that was snowed-out and a Scotch tasting that I missed due to "work exhaustion", but there is a fabulous Filipino Fusion restaurant tasting scheduled for Tuesday. I need to cook an Afghani dish tomorrow so I can stay on-track with my eat/cook around the world project! Mmmm! Just thinking about my beloved group makes me smile. Well, about the to Holiday Mixer, it seems that in all the excitement I neglected to mention it.

Our darling Bro-friends Mike and Pooneet suggested that we have a party to help foster relationships between the original and new members. They also offered to host. I made a beautiful stuffed fig dish.

Wandering around the Chelsea Market gathering the perfect ingredients: a pungent blue cheese from Lucy's Whey, fresh figs from the fruit market and paper-thin sliced bacon from the meat market. At the market I met a fellow foodie working behind the register. I invited her to join the group and left the market filled with a sense of beautiful certainly in the direction of my life. I love food and people, and the people who love food are a special breed of people; my people.

I headed over to the party and started cooking. I halved the figs, pressed the cheese into the halves and wrapped them in little bacon bundles. The boys popped them in the broiler for me. They had made a chick-pea bruchetta and lamb meatballs. Deepa brought fresh-baked ginger cookies and everyone brought wine!

The party was set to start at 4pm. I had agreed to go to my friend Mark's party later that night, so D. opted-out of the EWI fete and told me we would meet-up at Mark's.

People trickled in at their own pace, but it really didn't matter, I have a great time with them whether there are five of us or fifty. Ironically, there was not all that many new members there to meet original members! As I said before, not that fact (or any other) would stop us from having a grand time. Judging from our long history of partying into the night, I should have known that this would not be a quick party, regardless of what time it started!

We drank, and talked and laughed and then conversation turned to Bourbon. Yes, Bourbon. Pooneet happens to be quite the connoisseur, and I happen to be of the opinion that if you don't like something that just means you haven't tried enough of it. That lead us to a Bourbon tasting. I was feeling no pain before the tasting, after the tasting everything got a bit surreal!

Somehow Rock Band was turned-on and the most incredibly bad singing and playing commenced. After exhausting the original Rock Band line-up, the Beatles's Rock Band was queued-up and the resulting butchery of such classics as "Lucy in the Sky" are thankfully nothing but a blur to me.

It was around this time that we noticed the time. It was nearly 11:00pm. Yes, we had been drinking for close to 7 hours. Naturally, it was time to move the party to Mark's! I texted D. and we were off to find a cab. Our original party had dwindled to a group of four.

We arrived to Solas in the East village and stumbled out of the cab and over to the club. The bouncer hassled the guys (I still don't know why), but submitted to letting us in. Once inside I began looking for Markie. The crowd did not seem very Gay, and considering his sexual preferences, I was confused. We struggled through the crowd and I tried to call him. We decided to leave, but on the way out I ran right into Mr. Mark himself. He was as drunk as I was and we hung onto each other outside the club, slurring compliments to each other. He asked us to stay, but at this point the bouncer was evil-eyeing us again and so we begged-out.

DeShon finally texted me back to let me know he was going out with one of his boys instead, I texted him that the club sucked and would be home soon.

Rather than rolling on home, the crew suggested that we check-out a bar on the corner. Why not? We sauntered into Hi Fi and promptly ordered drinks. Let's see, after an evening of red wine, white wine and Bourbon a Dirty Martini only makes sense, right? Ah, the drunken mind! I enjoyed Erin's comment about the evening; poetically she told us that our evening was merely an "adventure for our livers"!

Adventure it was. After we secured our cocktails we moseyed on over to the pool tables. Now, I am a firm believer in the fact that alcohol impairs your abilities, with one striking exception: Pool. I suck at pool, I mean really, really suck! When I drink though, I get good. We played in teams and I was actually on the winning team the first round! Even in the subsequent losing rounds, I held my own. In fact, I kicked some ass! It shocked me every time the ball miraculously found its way into the pocket. As you can imagine, I was very vocal in my satisfaction with myself. Ah, booze!

Amidst the revelry, I neglected to check either my phone (in the coat room) or the time. As the evening came to an end and I was shuffled by my dear members into a cab, I glanced at the clock to see a luminescent 4:00am flashing back at me. I came into the apartment gleefully intoxicated and jolly from my evening of excitement. DeShon was not amused. He bitched at me and then sent me to bed. Thankfully I was smart enough (read: drunk enough) to just do what he told me and go to sleep.

It took D. a few days to get over it, but he came around. See, I don't generally stay out all night. Hell, I rarely stay up past 1:00am! It felt good though. Not something I would make a habit of doing, but hell, it made me feel young. It reminded me of a time in my life when life was too exciting for sleep, when I was afraid of missing out on one second of it. I let myself get carried away in the moment; in the sheer pleasure of friends and drinks and laughter. I am a young woman, but I have to remind myself of that fact. I grew up too fast and now that the brakes seem to have failed, I am desperately trying to slow down time. I want to act my age, even if just for one crazy night of marathon drinking and blurred East Village bars.

Me and my Words

My mind has been filled with a tempest of thoughts lately; words begging, demanding to escape. Despite their clawing at me from within, I have merely been able to jot down notes, compose queries in my mind and I lay awake in bed. The knot in my stomach should begin to loosen and I release these tortuous thoughts, lay them to rest on paper. At least I hope so. There are so many, the question is where to begin. Is it with the growtesc nature of man? The drab gray of my professional life which I desperately try to add color to? The sweet melancholy of longing?

Well, New York in all her wisdom, has chosen to strand me here alone in my apartment. The impending blizzard dashing any hopes of the sweet distraction of my EWI event. I am here, just me and my words, and all the time to put them down.

EWI New Member's Event Recap

Well, after looking over my blog I realized that I made the egrigious error of not commenting on the New Member's Gala.

Every month I try to put together a new member mixer to give other people the opportunity to come meet the group and see if it is something they would like to be a part of. Thus far the events have had modest turn-outs, usually around 5 new members. Well, this month the response was tremendous. My thread got so many hits on seriouseats.com that it was featured on the home page of Eater. The responses kept rolling in, in fact they are still trickling in! My list of yes's, no's and maybe's kept growing. In total I had almost 100 responses, 58 of which ended-up rsvping for the event. It got to the point where I dreaded opening my email. I was somewhat terrified!

Where could we possible have an event of this size? I thought about contacting the James Beard Foundation about borrowing a space, but then I realized that I worked in a potential location already. I asked The Boss if I could use our office for "a little meeting of my culinary club", she agreed.

By the end of the week I had submitted all fifty-some-odd names to security and sent out the final instructions to the group. The magnitude of the response made me realize how special this group of mine is and how many people are out there in New York, seaking connections with people who share their special passion. The core members were a bit concerned about growing at such a rapid pace, not wanting the group to become impersonal. We scheduled a core members meeting for the following Tuesday to discuss.

As the event appoached, my nerves were on fire. I was so nervous! I have never conducted an event of this magnitude by myself.

I prepared a dish of stuffed mushrooms-bacon, cheese, marsala wine,which were fabulous, gathered two bottles of wine and ran out the door with my heart beating a mile a minute. I was flustered and finally stumbled into a cab. I arrived, checked in with security and headed up to the office. Upon walking into the office I saw a light had been left on, then someone came around the corner. I nearly had a heart attack! My coworker was there working overtime, after I composed myself, I invited her to join the party. One of my dear group members arrived shortly and helped me set-up.

I arranged food in the conference room, overlooking the east side of Manhattan, and set-up the bar in the reception area. Then they began to arrive. Thirty people came in all. I greeted and mingled and drank and drank and drank! I met an amazing group of people and five hours later stumbled home with a few of them in tow. They were so enthusiastic, and they liked me, they really liked me!

I added 20 names to our permanent roster, sadly one of them requested to be removed as she already had a club of her own which conflicted with our events (I am such a pussy, this really bummed me out!).

We are off and running again! We will mix and come together and some will become core members as well. The group has decided to stop the monthly new member events until we see how it goes at our current size. I agree. Tonight is our first event since the mixer, an Afghani tasting in Kips Bay. I am already scheming on a Tamale Demo event for next weekend with E. demonstraiting and one of our new members SY hosting, I'll discuss it with them tonight. Ah, the Great Equalizer does it again! Who knew that bringing people together could be as easy as offering a place to meet.

Oh, and I still am going to talk to the James Beard House, I happen to be going to another event there on Wednesday. Who knows, maybe they have a soft spot for young broke culinarians!

Rhythm of Life

I have fallen into a nice rhythm of life. My weekly goals have become more of a checklist, a way to schedule my time, almost effortless. EWI has blossomed into an organization that needs to be nurtured, but is relatively self sustaining. It is my imagination and desires that determine the direction, as megalomaniac as that sound, it seems that people want or need someone to lead the charge. I push myself in the kitchen and in the gym, but not obsessively. I have learned to cut myself some slack. The longer I ponder my future, the brighter it becomes. Passion is my north star, and as unpredictable as it may seem, it has been my constant. My applications are all in, my third step in the FSO process is complete, and all I have to do is wait. Wait and enjoy.

For the first time in my life waiting is not rot with nauseating impatience and anxiety. I feel only curiosity, excitement and, dare I say, hope. The vague picture of the future I have is like a Monet: beautiful, recognizable, but with soft details. I feel that this is where God works best. Let him workout the details!

Life is not perfect, but it is good. My apartment, for example, I looked for something better and found that it was by far the best I could afford right now. This made me appreciate it more, and I am happily obsessing over re-designs, my mind aflutter with midcentury modern accents and nods to the style and feeling I want to evoke. I can't afford it all, but I am doing a fine job working with what I have. Perhaps this is what contentment is.

I have an exciting week ahead of me. Tonight I am hosting an Afghani tasting, I am attending another Beard on Books on Wednesday where I hope to speak with someone about using the space, I have Momofuku chicken dinner on Friday, I am trying to plan a Tamale demo for EWI at a new member's loft for Saturday and it is my last full time week at RRA. My job itself is sure to be completely insane this week due to my impending departure, but what a joy that my life outside of those 40-someodd hours is enough to color my experience. Who knows, perhaps my brother will get his rehab date and I will get an acceptance letter this week as well!

I am about to start my Korean cooking for tomorrow's dinner, something I have been putting off for a few weeks! At this rate my "Eating/Cooking around the World" project will take me the next 25 years! Se La Vi. I know this Serene calm, this quiet contentment will not last, life is a stormy journey, but the place I have arrived makes even this thought unaffecting. Through it all, the love, the loss, the adventure and the pain, I have survived. Better than survived, I have lived. At the end of the day, what more can anyone really ask for?

The Culinary Adventures of Katie and Keith

It was a busy week last week; I decided to keep my apartment after working out a killer deal with my landlord (and seeing the bullshit that is on the market right now), I threw a successful EWI event at the Empire State Building for 30 guest and I have begun planning a complete overhaul of my apartment. I have an EWI meeting tonight to discuss the future of the group, but through all that the one thing that remains in the forefront of my mind is my brother, Keith.

This boy (really a 6'2" ex-marine) has always been the baby of the family. Despite his anger and behavioral problems, all I have ever been able to see is this mysterious, sensitive, amazing creature. We have a very close bond, but I don't really know him all that well. Looking through his Facebook pictures, I see an adventurer. Pictures from Japan, Mexico, Iraq, Florida, California.... I want to get to know this man.

He is going through a fucked-up time right now. A diagnosed alcoholic, dropped out of college this semester and on his way to rehab in the (hopefully not too distant) future. When he talks to me about his drinking, I am grateful for his honesty. He is really letting it all out. But today was different. I was angry. I hid it from him, I don't want to push him away, but I really just wanted to kick his ass.

When we are not talking about his drinking we talk about food. Like me, it is a passion for him. He sees places as culinary destinations and he indulges duelly. As I hear his stories and tell him mine, I feel that I am getting to know this mysterious man. I look forward to his Christmas visit to New York, where we can create an adventure of our very own.

I want to hear his stories, tell his stories and create new ones with him. Reverting back to my childhood name, I want to begin a journey into my brother's history, into his experience, the culinary adventures of Katie and Keith. Perhaps through "The Great Equalizer" we can become adult versions of the two children who once played in forts made of cardboard boxes. I don't want to lose him and I want to get to know him now, before the memories fade into the sunset of the past.

Hitting a Wall

Just when I was sure that things couldn't get any easier, week two went and knocked me on my ass! I have been missing postings, missing workouts and feeling utterly exhausted! I kind of feel like I am failing, backsliding this week.

To get some perspective I looked at my calendar from the last two weeks.
During week one: I was pretty good about working out, I started a food group, had drinks with my co-founder, the first meeting of the Foodie Club (EWI), the Cannoli experiment and a good Trader Joe's run.
This week: I have missed workouts several days, my blogging has been inconsistent, I am trying to plan the next EWI meeting on Sunday, I had dinner with Gussie, am having drinks with her tonight, went to the CUNY mixer and a Freelance class, I'm walking to Chinatown tomorrow and attempting to make homemade pasta and scallops on Saturday night.

I guess I have been busy, but it just doesn't feel as good. I wonder why. I am house sitting in the West Village this weekend, and that apartment always inspires me to write, hell it inspired me to start The Experiment, I think writing and re-focusing will be good. This experience is meant to push me, propel me, inspire me into the life I want and create some clarity as to what direction I should let my future take. I am feeling pretty lost and a little beaten down this week, but I guess I am still following the goals.

My wonderful, amazing boyfriend sent me a nice surprise in the mail: casino winning from Vegas. He was so excited to give it to me and to hear my reaction. Someone decided that they needed the money more and stole it right out of the sweet card, stuffing the mangled greeting back into a priority envelope. To hear the hurt and disappointment in D.'s voice was almost more than I could bear! It's just money, it would have been a really nice perk after the pay cuts and frustrations this week, but I am really trying to not let this upset me. I know it always comes back in one way or another, but for some reason it makes me so so sad. I have been ugly and bitter at work this week, and that makes me sad. I don't know what to do with my life and that makes me sad. All the joy of The Experiment is taking a beating this week and I am desperate to get it back!

It is my life and I choose passion and joy and adventure! That is my mantra and no one can take those things away unless I let them. I am going to continue to chant and push on through. I still have two and a half days to meet my goals for week 2 and to take back the smile that is rightfully mine.

Wrap-up of Week One

Quite a start if I do say so! I worked-out almost every day and lost 4 lbs, gaining 3 back over the weekend :..( I tried a new recipe and now know how to make Cannoli shells, if not the filling. I had a party, went out for drinks, met 10 new people and have been writing every day. I said yes to life this week and the results have been staggering. I am not losing site of my other goal though, trying to figure out my next career move. Though I am embracing life now, I always keep one eye on the horizon.

I suppose I should talk about the party. It ended up being nine of us in out strange motley crew! We have two paralegals, one lawyer, two finance guys, two lucky ladies in publishing, one gal whose job I just can't remember and Me. We are all in our mid to late twenties/ early thirties and we love to eat. I would say 7 out of 9 love to cook as well, though no one has a culinary degree. We all find our passion for the edible to be our salvation from the mundane realities and disappointments of our lives. One of the lovely publishing girls came up with our name, a name that falls just shy of pretension into the silly and ironic: Eating With Impunity (EWI for short)!

We EWI members sat and drank ten bottles of wine, laughed and shouted, and finally ended-up at an after party of sorts at the finance guys' loft. We were there to see the space and help him make fried risotto. K my co-founder, began snapping pictures and it was a great time! Looking at the pictures, I saw that I loomed about the other women. At first feeling quite amazonian, I began to smile. There I was with my pearls and red lipstick, boisterous and larger than life: I felt just like Julia! It didn't matter that I did not look petite or the thinnest of the girls, I was channeling my hero, a woman who was loved and adored for her vibrance and not her dress size. I probably sound a bit foolish, seeing as this "amazon" is only a size 4, but it is all relative, and this is New York!

My how things change! One week ago I was house sitting in the West Village, trying to figure out how to make my life more passionate, more full of laughter, more full of people and parties and new experiences. I shot for my eight weekly goals (I so hate that it is not a more rounded number, like 10!) and I tried to approach everything as an adventure or a story. It has been a bit exhausting, but strangely easy. Who knew my experiment would begin working so fast! I am well on my way to the life I want right now, but I am still in the dark about what to do next, I guess you can't expect to have it all in only one week.


Week One Goal List:
1. Daily Workout- 6 days
2. New Recipe - Fat Free Cannoli
3. New Writing- Blogger Article: cooking and cunnilingus
4. Dinner Party - EWI party
5. Social Event - Drinks with K.
6. New Connection - K. and the EWI's
7. New NYC Experience - Hell's Kitchen Flea Market
8. One Yes instead of No - I honestly don't think I made this one this week