Tag Archives: memories

the more they change, the more they stay the same: salted dark chocolate mousse with vanilla cream

salted dark chocolate mousse with vanilla scented cream

At times it feels like I just left New York; though it was three years ago (and nearly exactly to the day), The City still holds court as the single place I’ve rested my head for the most nights outside of my childhood hometown on Cape Cod. Just writing that feels odd; for as much time as I spent there, since I packed up our West Village townhouse that sweaty July back in 2011, so much has changed.

salted dark chocolate mousse chopped chocolate

There has been a marriage, a new dog, two new cats, a few far reaching vacations, three rather large geographical moves which also spurred career changes, and ultimately times of great self reflection and growth.  Given that we had a professional moving company hired to bubble wrap and duct tape every last speck of our tangible possessions and make them magically reappear (hopefully unbroken) halfway across the country, I left in what felt like a hurry; there was none of the usual ‘packing process’ per say, other than putting some Colorado appropriate clothing into a suitcase and waiting for the twenty-one-footer to show up with her crew.

salted dark chocolate mousse cream beaters

My apartment remained decorated and fully put together until the day I left, lending a sense of ‘is this really even happening?‘ right up till the eleventh hour. We were lucky enough to manage to finagle a week spent on that dizzyingly busy island onto the end of our recent trip, and even luckier still to have two friends offer up their gorgeous apartment in SoHo – the same friends whose wedding we had toasted just a couple of weeks earlier (the little lucky duckies were still honeymooning in Southeast Asia!). I am so thankful for their generosity, as there is no better way to visit somewhere you used to live than by staying in an actual home.  Being in a hotel would have made me feel like a stranger; a peeping tom creeping around trying to catch glimpses of scenery I wasn’t meant to enjoy. Having called the Upper West Side, the Upper East Side, Gramercy, Greenwich Village, and the far West Village all home at one point or another in the six years we spent there, staying in SoHo was a treat, and the moment touched down I was eager to get out and explore.

salted dark chocolate mousse custard

I’m not sure this it is even possible, but Manhattan felt even buzzier, crazier, and more alive than I remembered. Even though the mercury was busting way up into the high 90s the day we arrived (and the humidity had my hair doing it’s best Medusa imitation – not my best look), the streets were absolutely mobbed, and that same frenetic energy came flooding back in a surge of sweaty excitement. With time, there is a certain way that you learn to navigate the busy streets, and there is a definite art of maintaining that familiar bob-weave-stop-start pace while simultaneously holding three shopping bags and a full iced coffee while sending a text and managing not to be struck by a yellow cab at a crosswalk or an errant bag of Thai noodles waving perilously in the wind off of a bike messenger’s handle bar. My chest swelled with pride and there was a noticeable pep in my step with the realization that I still ‘had it,’ and it felt so good to slide into the backseat of an Uber (because who takes cabs anymore?) and rattle off the cross streets of a restaurant without even consulting the Google.

New York has not entirely removed herself from me.

{but wait! there’s more…}


meet me in muskoka + a mushroom, cheddar, and leek pie, lake style

mushroom tart

If you follow me on Instagram you may have already seen various points of the mileage I mentioned yesterday; to be quite honest, I was actually surprised at how little pictures I actually took during our travels, and that goes for most of our adventures as of late.


{captain + first mate}

I’ve been really bad about carting my DSLR on vacations with me lately (partly due to the fact that I desperately need a new telephoto lens – which obviously doesn’t come on the cheap – and I’ve been sticking my head in the sand and pretending my old one works just fine….it doesn’t), and it’s too easy to fall into the habit of snippity snapping away with ye old iPhone.


I yammered on enough yesterday about how wonderful island living is up in Muskoka, but it would be remiss of me not to mention this mushroom pie – even though I’ve got but one photograph as evidence of it’s brief existence.

{but wait! there’s more…}

australia 2012, part 3: melbourne – st. kilda & the cbd

melbourne - st kilda & cbd

Well, it’s been a year (and a month!) since we actually took this trip and I snapped these pictures long ago with full intentions of coming home and giving you some long winded recap of every thing I ate, place I went to, and international incident I caused…..

But, like I said…it’s been a year. It’s old news! In the interest of cleaning out my ‘Post Drafts’ box (and therefore also absolving myself of the guilt I feel when I see all of my half-mused musings), I’ll spare you the gory (read: awesome) nitty-gritty of the last week of our trip to the Southern Hemisphere and tell you this:

If you make it to Australia, you absolutely must visit Melbourne. If you are a fan of the charm of European cities, the buzz of New York, the laissez faire nature of San Francisco, and enjoy having fun in general, then you will adore Melbourne. Skinny little laneways, crawling bougainvillea and ivy, smells of various dishes wafting through the streets, the beach, and a mish/mash of cultures all colliding in one place…..Melbourne is a heavenly cacophony for the senses. The people are ultra laid back and love nothing more than to go out to eat really good food, drink pints, and be generally very merry; they crowd the cafes to laugh over extra-long suppers, and no one minds if a little wine spills on the cobbled sidewalks. And the ASIAN FOOD! Due to Australia’s somewhat close proximity to Southeast Asia, the influences in local cuisine are clear cut.  I had the best Vietnamese food I’ve ever had, and it’s everywhere — pho for days, I tell you. Asian-fusion is big there, and they do it in a way that makes every “Asian-fusion” place in the States I’ve ever been to feel on par with Panda Express.   Get thee to Chin Chin and order thee the sweet and sticky pork and a lemongrass cocktail, then kick your heels up with the pretty people at Go Go bar (downstairs) late night.  And the SEAFOOD….prawns, whole fish, crabs the size of your head – you name it, I ate it. With unabashed glee. I’ve noted the names of a few more of our favorite places in links below, but otherwise, I bestow to you, a quick and dirty photographic journey of one of my favorite cities to date.  Oh…and before you head home, head to Aesop to stock up on their amazing skin care products – surely you’ve checked a bag for this trip…be a rebel and buy something over 3oz!



second to last night, dinner at half moon

{maybe the only (blurry!) pic we have together in 14 whole days!}

gorgeous ivy covered church in st. kilda

{gorgeous ivy, gorgeous days}

stokehouse - zucchini and chickpea salad

{zucchini and chickpea salad with hazelnuts and mint}

stokehouse - delicious mussels

{excellent mussels at the stokehouse cafe}

taking a spin around town

{taking a city spin on two wheels}

breaks of sunshine

{bustling city center}

bougainvillea lining all the streets

{love: bougainvillea lining all the neighborhood streets}

spicy szechuan chicken (with chilis!)

{spicy szechwan chicken and chilis}

{but wait! there’s more…}

australia 2012, part 2: mornington peninsula

australia 2012 - mornington peninsula

Continuing on with that ‘better late than never theme…..’ (Ahem.)

We were really disappointed we didn’t have more time to spend in Sydney, but I was also overcome with excitement to discover a completely new part of the country I was already so taken by.  I had naively originally expected that we would just hop into a rental car and drive South down the coastline on a leisurely drive, but after discovering that the trip from Sydney to Melbourne would log twelve to fifteen hours  in the car (and all while driving on the other side of the road!), that idea was quickly scrapped, and we made our way to the airport for a much more palatable hour-and-thirty-minute flight.  After a small misunderstanding with our cab driver (which resulted at being dropped off at some random [wrong!] terminal and some subsequent whining and begging to allow our bags to be checked with barely twenty minutes till takeoff), we were off.

Our first order of business upon arrival was securing our rental car, and driving even further down the coast, out of Melbourne, down to an area called the Mornington Peninsula.  We were absolutely ravenous by the time we were arrived, but we pushed half-way through the three-hour long trip in search of a little town called Springvale where we had heard you could find the best bowl of Pho you’d ever eat in your life.  After a few a slew of U-turns, we finally flung open the door to Pho Hung Vuong Saigon, and sat down to what turned out to be one of the best meals in my thirty years on planet Earth: perfectly spiced clear beef broth, nearly see-through strips of thinly sliced beef shin and tendon, and piles of fresh cilantro, bean thread noodles, and chili peppers on the side.  It was the best kind of comfort food, and chased away any remaining remnants of jet lag that had plagued our early wakeup that morning.   We sucked our bowls down in record time and hit the road again, cranky no longer, towards Uncle Norman and Aunt Miyoko’s house nestled deep down in the peninsula.

As we traversed further out of the city and into the countryside, the scenery turned lush and green, and caution signs for the odd jumping kangaroo or clumsy wombat dotted the roadsides with increasing frequency.  The Mornington Peninsula has become a popular country escape for the city dwellers of Melbourne proper, and is well known for it’s many wineries, golf resorts, rocky beaches, and quaint towns.  Norm and Miyoko had generously offered to host us at their lovely home for three nights, and from the very moment we arrived we immediately felt at ease.  I am very lucky in that I am married to man whose interesting heritage (half Kiwi [New Zealand], half British) lends itself to having wonderful friends and relatives all over the world, and, as a weary traveler, encountering familiar and friendly faces on the other side of the globe makes the entire experience that much more special.  As soon as we were settled, Norm pulled out his impressive collection of sake glasses (it is a tradition in their house for each guest to select their own) and Miyoko began preparing us an appetizer of traditional Japanese tempura with fresh local fish and plump green peas.  We settled in to their backyard, surrounded by the sounds of local birds and the scent of their garden flowers, kicked off our shoes, and relaxed.

We spent the next three days exploring the peninsula and taking in all that the gorgeous area had to offer.  Norm booked us in for massages at the natural hot springs that he runs year round, and we were totally spoiled – it was the absolute best massage I have ever had, and after being reduced to a jelly-like state I slinked into  the hot mineral-rich waters of one of the thermal pools, and floated on my back till my hands and feet were pruned.  We dined outside on invigorating ‘spa food’ – healthy fresh pressed juices and delicious cool and crisp salads – and toured the grounds extensively, trying out something called a ‘Turkish Bath” and even braving a couple of the chilly plunge pools. (For the record, I was much happier lazing in the warmth than sadistically dunking in the cold.)  The weather was unbeatable – warm, sunny, and dry – and we capped off a fantastically relaxing day with supper at a local Thai restaurant, sampling a green curry, delicious phat si lo (aka pad see ew, a rice noodle dish), and, my favorite, a whole fried local fish with tamarind sauce, enjoyed straight off the bone.

Our next days were spent cruising down the coast line and stopping in to explore the beach towns of Sorrento and Portsea, both of which were emphatically charming and surprising.  We had both left Manly expecting that the ‘beach’ portion of our vacation was over (the forecast in Mornington was not exactly working in our favor), but the sun struggled to get it’s head out up and over the clouds, and we were afforded bright blue skies and (mostly) sunny afternoons for our entire stay.  Our favorite beach was located in Sorrento, with a craggy and rough coastline punctuated by enormous rocks, and gorgeous seaweed covered flats that made for an impressive view while rounding up over a crest and dropping down onto the beach.  We strolled through the center of town and shopped at the boutiques, taking breaks for perfectly brewed cappuccinos and scoops of fresh strawberry ice cream which were immediately followed with long naps on our outstretched towels, and some hard work on our Aussie tans.

Our final afternoon was spent touring the countryside, stopping in for tastings at two of Miyoko’s favorite wineries, and enjoying a long and late lunch of seared duck, curried mussels, and meltingly rare salmon filets.  We swung by an organic market and picked up a selection of locally made (and very stinky!) cheeses to enjoy with that evening’s planned meal of grilled lamb chops, and indulged in a long nap and an old movie in bed before supper.  Norm was an expert on the grill and seared the chops till just their very middles had twinges of scarlet, and after eating entirely too much (and sharing a few bottles of red wine), we participated in what I can only describe as a horribly sorry (but very enthusiastic!) karaoke session.  (Let’s just say that my rendition of the B-52’s “Love Shack” was causing both of their poor cats to yowl uncontrollably!).  An A+ for effort was given to all.

Mornington is beautiful – and unexpectedly so, actually.  We had read that it was a haven for tired city-dwellers and knew it would be relaxing and ‘pretty’, but the plushness of the landscape, the sharp aquamarine hue of the ocean, and the rolling and unadulterated lush green hills that blanket the region literally took our breath away.  We experienced all of this beauty in such a comfortable setting, and were so grateful to have such wonderful, kind, and caring hosts to have made our experiences there truly unique.  I felt genuinely rested when we packed up our car (and apologized to said kitties for my utter lack of any vocal talents), and we sadly said our goodbyes.  We rolled back up the coastline (and had a few panicked moments forgetting we were meant to keep our vehicle firmly planted in the left lane) towards Melbourne, and off towards the last stretch of our adventure – five days spent in St. Kilda, a funky enclave of the sprawling city, and five more glorious chances to discover even more about this fantastically enigmatic country.

an afternoon swim

{sorrento, in front of the beach}

deep blue waters

{waves + tidepools}

{but wait! there’s more…and lots of pictures, too!}

australia 2012, part 1: manly beach + sydney

australia 2012 - manly beach and sidney

So it’s May (of 2013!)….and way back in January I posted a few snapshots of the two-week trip we took to Australia in December (of 2012!), and promised to have some ‘real’ pictures and perspective of fourteen days traipsing around in the Southern Hemisphere up on le blog in short order.  Naturally, I lost track of time (read: procrastinated combing through the over 1200 pictures taking up real estate on my memory card), and the looming task of digging through the monstrous digital photo roll that encompassed our totally rad days “Down Under” got the best of me.  I don’t know how it is that it took me five whole months, but it was actually hugely entertaining to spend a cloudy and overcast day here scrolling through shots of cerulean blue seas and remembering *exactly why* I wore stretchy leggings for the plane ride home after recalling the obscene amount of delicious food I managed to consume in fourteen days.

But I’ll make myself feel better by living out that old adage – better late than never.  Australia.  In short: Australia is, to date, the most enigmatic place I’ve ever visited – and I barely, barely scratched the surface while there.  Imagine if someone told you they were coming to visit the United States for fourteen days; obviously, they would barely even get a taste of what this country is all about.  They’d see a couple of big cities (probably New York, or LA), spend lots of time flying/driving/training/schlepping, and in the end leave with an idea of what went on in the big old U.S.of A….but there’s just no way they would have fully seen it all.  And attempting to ‘do’ Australia in just two short weeks is nearly impossible; it is a massive country.  As perspective: Australia encompasses nearly 3 million square miles of land, which is just slightly smaller than the US’s 3.7 million square mile share.  By comparison, however, Australia only has 22 million people living there – just 7% of the 314 million we have living on US soil.  A good bit of Australia – the world’s smallest continent, but her 6th largest country – is uninhabitable.  Harsh desert land covers 18% of that square milage, located mostly in the center of the country; so much so that 80% of Aussies live within 100km (62 miles!) of the coastline.  The only country that is also a continent, it is a host to incredibly varied terrain: along with those blisteringly hot deserts come craggy and beautiful beaches, stunning ancient rock formations, bustling metropolitan centers, and snow capped mountains.  But enough of the geeky stats.  Clearly, I was not going travel a land mass nearly the size of America in two weeks, and having learned from some past experiences  that trying to cram ALLTHETHINGS into what really isn’t that much time is utterly exhausting, we decided to focus our efforts on seeing four destinations: Manly Beach, Sydney, the Mornington Peninsula, and, finally, Melbourne.

{but wait! there’s more….and pictures!}

instasurprise!: a getaway surprise weekend to telluride + dunton hot springs, co

{the view flying up over the san juans}

Even though our anniversary technically happened a week ago, I’ve never been one  to try and rush through life’s little celebrations, and I was giddy with excitement after being instructed by James to pack a bag for a ‘surprise weekend getaway’ to fete our one-whole-year milestone together.  Since no man in his right mind would tell a girl to pack ‘a bag’ without first mentioning that aforementioned bag must conform to the airlines current draconian space and size rules, I assumed that we would be packing up and heading somewhere close; perhaps to a nearby mountain town, or even (excitedly) back to Aspen, where we celebrated our ‘minimoon’ exactly one year ago.  So you can imagine my surprise when we turned off I-70 and hurtled towards Denver International Airport; not only was I mentally tallying through the narrow scope of places where I would need a ‘swimsuit, a pair of shorts, a down jacket, and comfy shoes,’ but also having visions of the TSA agents tossing my most definitely over-three-ounce bottles of perfume and tinted moisturizer.  (Isn’t that just the worst?)

James hurriedly whispered a few words to the agent before I reached the podium, and wearing a huge grin on his face, he watched as she handed me a boarding pass with the code TEX emblazoned on the front.  Telluride.  My favorite place in Colorado, and, quite possibly, on the planet.  (I first fell in love here.)  He told me that even though I knew where we were going, I didn’t quite yet know — and that was the truth.  After landing on a precariously balanced mountaintop landing strip we strolled through the idyllic town and had lunch – but that was it.  Back into the car we went, and drove through meandering miles of golden aspen trees and dirt roads until we hit a little town called Dunton.

We almost breezed right past the tiny old mining town, but instead jerked off the dirt road and down a barely manicured path.  As we pulled into what had looked like a desolate group of old Western shacks, I realized that we were, in fact, somewhere very special.  An old ghost town that has been purchased and renovated into a luxury ‘camp’ complete with it’s own natural hot springs, Dunton  Hot Springs is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.  We spent two nights and three full days basking in the warm morning sunshine, soaking in the mineral laden tubs, reading books in a fire-light library, and gathering round the dinner table with new friends.  It was an incredible experience at a Colorado resort that I cannot stress how much I recommend – and I’ve got plenty of photos and notes to share with you later.  For now, here are a few glimpses into what was definitely one of my most memorable weekends in Colorado, to date.

{the landing strip at telluride airport – perched on a cliff}

{the best surprise boarding pass}

{laces for the road}

{back in my favorite place, gazing east towards bridal veil falls in telluride}

{stopping in for a quick pint of hoppy suds at a friends brewery}

{arriving at dunton hot springs}

{a true ghost town}

{but wait! there’s more…}

the perfect august evening: a farm dinner by blackbelly catering at isabelle farm

When I first saw an email for this dinner  – a farm-to-table affair hosted by Blackbelly Catering at Isabelle Farm – pop into my inbox, I knew I wanted to secure a couple of seats right away.  It was a complete no-brainer, being that this special night would combine some of my favorite things into one neatly wrapped little dinner package: a farm whose produce I eagerly snap up every Saturday at the Boulder Farmer’s Market, a dinner that would embody the local and farm-to-table ethics I believe in and aspire to maintain, a menu that had me absolutely salivating for weeks, and, to boot, all of it pulled together by a chef who I’d rooted for throughout season five of Top Chef, Hosea Rosenberg.  And all of these things happening on a perfect mid-August night just twenty minutes from my doorstep?  Jackpot.

Last Saturday evening, we were dressed and ready for the night early, as there was a farm tour slated at 4:30 PM, an hour before the dinner was to kick off.  I was nearly out the door in a pair of wedges before smartening up, and reached for a more ‘farm friendly’ pair of hay-tromping flats – and I’m so glad my surely-much-smaller-rational-fashion side prevailed. (Apparently the heeled NY’er in me isn’t dead just yet.)  We were warmly welcomed to the farm by the sweet Marketing and Events Director of Blackbelly, Karen, who was clad in an adorable polka dot dress and was effortlessly put together and totally serene – even though she was at the helm of organizing and directing a dinner for over forty people out in the middle of a field amongst tractors and barns.  After greeting us, she quickly had us situated with mason jars full of tart lemonade and a couple of seats under a white tent illuminated with twinkling lights.  As we walked closer to the immaculately maintained fields, we were introduced to Jason Condon, who runs the farm alongside his wife Natalie.  With his sweet and spunky daughter Lucy close by and his cute black dog running circles around our ankles, Jason began to give us some background about the farm, the practice of organic farming, and the eighty varietals that grow on their seventy-acre property.

We plodded through the troughs that lay between the different vegetables, and Jason pointed out expansive rows of eggplant, okra, peppers, sweet corn, and melons.  He gave a synopsis of each vegetable and how and when it was planted, the difficulties associated with maintaining and growing the crop, and the various trials and tribulations involved with harvesting.  I learned that watermelon is notoriously hard to pinpoint when ripe; so much so, in fact, that there is only one lady on the entire farm allowed to pick them – as everyone else’s track record is abysmal, and their attempts amount to watery, pale, and decidedly unripe specimens.  I knelt over and ran my fingers over the velvety vine of one of the huge stripy-green orbs, and inhaled deeply as we passed over dirt that still felt moist underfoot.  There is a definite primal feeling that one gets when standing on soil that has the ability to thrust forth perfect naturally cultivated versions of simple food, and I was incredibly impressed with the entire operation.  The manual labor involved with running an organic farm is staggering, and I know even from attempting to keep my tiny 5 x 10 ‘organic’ home-veggie-patch pest free and generally happy looking is an everyday challenge.  (Farmer Jason would surely be unimpressed by my unruly tomato plants and scraggy broccoli crowns, but I hope I’d get credit for giving it the old college try.)  Here, rows of brilliant and shiny purple eggplant peeked shyly out from under broad leaves, okra rose triumphantly towards the sun in fat green spikes, and the sweet corn (which actually won’t even return more than a few pennies to the Condon family, but which they grow for “fun”) stood much taller than my head, and waved in the warm late-Summer breeze, cutting an undulating golden silhouette against the looming Rockies.

As we walked back over to the tent, we were greeted with flutes of chilly Prosecco, which was the perfect beverage to accompany the gorgeous appetizers that were soon whisked over from the nearby kitchen tents.  Balanced gracefully on long and slender wine barrel staves, the small bites were delicious: plump grapes enrobed in salty goat cheese and dribbled with truffle oil, flash fried shishito peppers smattered with flakey sea salt, tender beef carpaccio wrapped around tomato confit, farm fresh peaches enrobed in sheets of melting lardo, melon and tomato bites with feta, and, my favorite, creamy little parcels of sweet corn custard wrapped in thinly sliced and salty coppa.  I must have indulged in at least three of each, and had to be repeatedly reminded by one more level-headed better-half that there was an appetite that needed saving for the impending full five course meal.

We settled in for dinner underneath the tent, and it was apparent that no detail had gone unnoticed in the intimate setting.  Small clothespins fastened menus to freshly pressed napkins, mason jars held water for drinking between sips of the wine tasting, and gorgeous rustic bouquets dotted the long farm-style tables.  We started off with a chilled corn soup, accented by a piece of flaky smoked trout, and a dollop of basil pesto and smear of huitlacoche, or “corn smut.”  This offensive sounding thing actually turned out to be delicious, as the ‘smut’ refers to a type of mushroom that grows on the corn stalks and is savory and earthy in flavor.  The soup was divine – perfectly chilled and fresh tasting, with just enough texture from the garnishes to be interesting and fun.  After soup, it was on to a delicious charred Summer vegetable salad, full of grilled produce, studded with pepitas, and enrobed in a scallion vinaigrette.  Next came a refreshing cantaloupe granita to cleanse our veggie-sated palates, and ready us for what stood out to be Blackbelly and Chef Hosea’s proudest dish: a nose-to-tail tasting of their home-raised Berkshire Pork.  We were treated to a dish that utilized ten different parts of the pig – pigs that were all hand-raised at Karen’s house just a few miles away.  There was tender belly, croquettes made with the trotter, and a sweet square of tete de cochon.  There were other thoughtfully arranged parts of the animal that all came together under an umbrella of flavors influenced by New Orleans, and the entire plate was fabulous, well crafted, and lovingly presented.  Just as we were moving on to the fourth savory course, fat raindrops started to weasel their way out of the dark clouds that had swooshed out and over our heads from seemingly nowhere, but in the end the plates were served seamlessly by the wonderful staff braving whippy winds and sideways rainfall.  We tucked in to a plate of rare-cooked lamb (accented with a few mountain raindrops) that was set atop a tomato tartlette, and we hunkered down and scooched in tight.  Rounds of “you know they say in Colorado ‘if you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes….'” could be heard throughout the tent, and before we had even put our forks down there was a (double!) rainbow in the sky, and the sun had started to fade into a technicolor display of red, burnt orange, and fiery yellow.

Glasses of dessert wine were poured, and just as I was groaning that Icouldn’tpossiblytakeanotherbite, a dish of grilled poundcake, Colorado peaches, mascarpone gelato, and fresh honey comb was plunked down in front of me – and, of course, I somehow managed.  The gelato was creamy and plush, and was a perfect foil for the sweet peaches, crisp tinged pound cake, and sticky honeycomb.  After dinner, I took a few minutes to chat with Hosea and thank him for such an incredible meal, and he was incredibly easy going, talkative, and very humble – though it’s clear that he has something really special in the works.  I had a few moments to catch up with Karen’s husband, a photographer named Mark, who was equally gracious, kind, and helpful.  The evening was so well curated, and the food — unbeatable; it was truly a special night in Colorado that I am very thankful I was able to experience.  Both Isabelle Farm and Blackbelly Catering are true inspirations for me, as a fledgling chef and gardener, and I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening then experiencing a marriage of the two in a beautiful setting that not even these photographs can truly capture.

{walking up to the farm}

{but wait! there’s more…and lots of pictures!}