Yep, you read that correctly. I said, Pistachio. Nutella.
Or, actually, “Crema Pistacci.”
Isn’t that fun to say? Especially in an exaggerated Italian accent, over and over, to myself … I digress.
When I went to NYC in March, I stopped by Eataly, the Italian fine foods mega-market across from Madison Square Park. If you haven’t been, it’s a must.
I first visited last fall, and was captivated by — among other things — rows and rows of exotic kinds of Nutella, in every shape, size and flavor imaginable. But back then I was too overwhelmed to purchase anything. This time I just had to.
The morning after I brought Oliver home, he and I went to play in a meadow near my house at about 6:00 am. Neither of us had slept much, and we were both fairly shell-shocked by this new life we’d found ourselves in. Up trotted a neighbor, Fran, with her Schnauzer, Shocky. Shocky was Oliver’s first friend.
I should also explain that I had lived in my neighborhood for two years already and had never met a neighbor. If you don’t garden or cut your lawn, or you don’t walk a dog, you really don’t see other people. Not enough to form relationships, at least. Once Oliver entered my life, we made friends far and wide, of both the human and canine variety. He makes my home feel so much more like home.
We frequently ran into Fran and Shocky on our walks. Even though Shocky was 10 and Oliver just a wee babe, they would run and frolick together as much as their flexi-leashes would allow. It seemed like they knew they were cousins. Continue reading →
A few weeks ago I hit my breaking point. Everywhere I turned, I was reading something more and more frightening about the food we eat. I’ve always tried to cut out processed food, buy organic and walk the outer aisles of the grocery like they say is best, but bad stuff still seems to be everywhere.
The last straw was when I read about the dangers of eating cooked meat. I realized then that I ate meat in some form for every meal, at least twice a day. Chicken on my salad, turkey on my sandwich, a piece of pork/chicken/steak with vegetables and a starch for dinner. So, I decided then and there to stop. I don’t think I’d call myself so much a “vegetarian” now as a “pescetarian” or “flexitarian.” But I’m on a journey to cut the meat and up the vegetables … A girl’s still got to throw down a steak every once in awhile, though.
The challenge is finding hearty, filling — and meatless — meals. When I started, we were still in the throes of winter, and the last thing I wanted to eat was a chilly salad or one more bowl of soup. Those are the likeliest vessels for going all veggie, I’d found. Continue reading →