Lost Dog Maligned

I have a beef with Lost Dog Cafe in Arlington, Virginia. Their pizza crust is a little flabby for my taste. There, I said it. Jac raves about their pizza so we order from there frequently. But this week, the Lost Dog stepped squarely in a pile of something. And I have to say, Lost Dog is in the right. And not just because they give generously to animal charities.

Lost Dog Cafe filed a servicemark years ago. It is "live". It was reviewed and approved by the USPTO. As anyone who's ever started a business or launched a brand knows, it's hard work. Building a distinguished company or brand is even harder. Your name is your reputation. Lost Dog's servicemark was verified with the following language, "

Other Data

Registration limited to the area comprising the entire United States, its territories and possessions, with the exception of the states of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, and Illinois pursuant to Concurrent Use Proceeding No. 94002047. Concurrent registration with Reg. No. 2384660 and Application Serial Nos. 75644722, and 75524391, and 75524388.

The exceptions of a set of states seem to mesh with an old servicemark that had existed in that region, that was limited to those states. So probably when Lost Dog Cafe went for their servicemark they needed to exclude the claimed territory of the already live servicemark. Since then the other servicemark has gone DEAD. Outside of these two, a third party, in West Virginia was floating along as Lost Dog Coffeehouse. But then, one day, recently, West Virginia Lost Dog received an intimidating Cease & Desist letter from Lost Dog Cafe Arlington's attorney. It was filled with the usual lawyer lingo. The WV Lost Dog owner sounded miffed in an article that their attorney had been "curt" with her and indicated that Lost Dog Cafe Arlington has the capital to fight this. One should be far more wary the friendly attorney from the opposing side.

Having had too much interaction with lawyers and how they write recently, I can say that if their actual goal is not taking you to court for every last penny you have, their opening salvo is likely to be a fiery letter that's meant to make you quake in your boots.

But why would this sweet, pet-loving small business (Arlington) care or dare to threaten Shepherdtowns' Lost Dog Coffee? Well, maybe they read this article in Inc.  It suggests once you establish a service or trademark there are several things you must do to keep it valid and your own. Right up front in the skimmable portion of the article it says, "The defense comes once you have begun using your trademark—and involves three strategies:

• Using your mark correctly
• Monitoring for potential infringements, and
• Cracking down on those who trespass on your trademark turf."

And I know this to be the accurate advice because I have established several companies and brands with unique identities. Legally-enforceable identities don't just help companies protect their street cred, they also help to protect consumers from fraud. Imagine Grandpa comparing Apple to Apples in a bright Best Buy with point of purchase videos suggesting the thing you have in front of you is from the super secret Steve Jobs vault. You know which one you want, how? Because of the name? The look? The point of purchase video? Maybe the price. You get it, right? Clearly I cannot take the iCup in front of you because that is exactly what you would expect me to do...

And yet, it seems the overwhelmingly voiced opinion is that Lost Dog Cafe is a commercial empire cracking down unjustly on an innocent lil' ole' coffee cubby way out in West Virginia - where the Beltway doesn't even GO. So. Effing. Mean.

Except it's not, it's business. It is how people who create things help to stem the tide of having their created things stolen from them. It's surprising too, because the Internet and I were BFFs on this issue when The Oatmeal got into a kerfuffle a few weeks ago with a site that was reportedly making heavy use of Oatmeal intellectual property and generating revenue from it. The Oatmeal creatively turned a counter-threat from the other site on its ear as it vowed to donate money raised in its defense to charity. "And 'checkmate'." But of course the other site wasn't done, it followed up with threats to the charities who might someday get some of that donated money. 

Owning a mark doesn't mean the government goes around making sure nobody's selling Victoria's Dirty Secret Shades of Grey personal massagers. It means you have another job, making sure that someone else isn't harming or stealing your reputation or intellectual property, which remember, is the core of your business value. 

Not only does DC have super commuters who drive in from the exurbs of West Virginia to DC for work. We also share local and regional news outlets. And the Internet obliterates the paltry 71 mile geographic divide between them. 

If you don't protect your mark, you lose it. If you're going to lose it, why bother building it in the first place? Well, in the first place Lost Dog Cafe wanted to make good food (Ahem, see exception: crust.) and do good by donating to animal rescue. Lost Dog also threw Columbia Pike residents a bone a couple of years ago when it opened a location on Columbia Pike, a step toward a more robust community. 

So I can't get behind the rush to judgment against Lost Dog Cafe. The people at Lost Dog Coffee may be great folks for whom this letter came out of the blue and really harshed their mellow (assuming they drink decaf). But it kind of sucks that Lost Dog Cafe is getting flamed for doing what every trade/servicemark and patent holder is told to do - look out for others who get too close to what you've created. 

I think I am beginning to get a craving for some flabby-crusted Lost Dog Cafe, Arlington, VA, pizza.

What Cheer

Okay, let's have a little geography pop quiz! Take a look at this list of cities and tell me which state each one is in.

Akron	Andover	Arlington
Aurora	Battle Creek	Bloomfield
Brooklyn	Buffalo	Burlington
Cambridge	Carlisle	Cincinnati
Corning	Cumberland	Danville
Decatur	Fairbank	Fredericksburg
Harper's Ferry	Hartford	Humboldt
Knoxville	Lansing	Lincoln
Little Rock	Manchester	Monticello
Ogden	Plymouth	Prescott
Princeton	Rockford	Scranton
Selma	Toledo	Vail
Williamsburg

All done? Okay, hang on while I check your answers...

Wrong.

They're all in Iowa.

As I've watched the Republican Presidential race heat up and the Iowa caucus gearing up, I've been struck by one thing repeatedly. No, it's not the other-wordly feeling that Iowa is Bizzaroworld where people like Rick Santorum can get 25% of the vote - neck and neck for winning the state's delegate votes. As astounding as that may be.

It is that everywhere in Iowa (with the possible exception of Iowa City, but I'm not too sure about that) seems to be named after somewhere else. Or at least there is some might liberal licensing of town names for such a conservative state.

In addition to the above, they've got their share of ubiquitous town names that seem to show up shore to shore: Bellevue, Centerville, Farmington, Garden City, Laurel, Mechanicsville, Middletown, Montpelier, Salem, Stratford, and Washington.

Austinville, Dallas Center, Delaware, Denmark, Jamaica, Luxemburg (sic ;) ), Macedonia, Madrid, Manilla, Moscow, Mount Vernon, Mystic, Nevada, New Virginia, Norway, Orient, Oxford, Panama, Peru, Volga, Wyoming, Yale, Yorktown.

 Guttenberg,
Atlantic?? Smack dab in the middle of the country?
Altoona

I am glad I don't live in Correctionville. Yikes.
Or Gravity, IA. I wonder what I weigh there!

I might be willing to retire in IRA, IA, though...

But there is one Iowa place I can't help but cheer, "What Cheer, Iowa".  Oddly enough, the town got this distinctive name after the post office rejected "Petersburg". I could hug that Post Master.

I Paid Cash: Unsubscribing Is Free!

I'm about to divorce a blog No! Not this one! I swear I'm just absent and my heart grows fonder!

I read many blogs through an RSS reader. It's actually a pretty magnificent thing. You find people you like to read, and with a little click they are saved in a pretty little collection so you can leaf through their sites like magazines whenever you like. Hopefully I'm in your RSS collection.

A couple of years ago, a friend suggested I read a website devoted to thriftiness. There's lots of info on internet deals and coupons so I quickly added it to my RSS feed. After some time I noticed that the author had a pretty intense religious fervor brewing but I was not wholly deterred.

As the economy worsened, I visited my Thrifty Links collection more frequently. I found plenty of deals on photo products and groceries and coupons towards clothing and housewares. This one site began welcoming guest bloggers who told stories, much like the site owner did, of saving up and buying things with cash. As someone with more than my fair share of experience with credit card companies, it was -- for a time -- refreshing to hear of people bucking the system and prioritizing what mattered.

And then the economy continued to worsen. And I began to wonder when anyone could do anything frivolous ever again. But the kernel of frustration was just barely there.

And then there was the four-wheeler story. The &*@(&# &*(&# flibberty-gibberty I don't even know how to say how I felt about that story. It is a few months back so I will attempt to recall the details. Another guest blogger (by this point realize that guest bloggers are a way to keep your site current while you take a break but continue to make money...) had posted a "We paid cash" story. Only this one I found repugnant, irresponsible, and certainly not something that should be extolled in the virtuous "we prioritized to accomplish our dream" themed posts.

It was about an obviously financially-challenged family that had decided to buy an ATV for their seven-year old. My relatively new Mom-senses tingled. A what? For a how-old? Are you NUTS?!?! I understand that riding ATV's is a pretty popular rural activity. I even did it when I was a kid, but I am sure my age ended in "-teen". ALL of the comments on the site applauded the woman for her thriftiness. None raised the issue of safety, or the merits of the purchase, or of buying this thing before dealing with other needs. To me it seemed like a thought process made out of deep poverty - and not just the financial kind. I quashed my disgust and posted a thoughtful comment with the most gentle suggestion about safety.

And it was promptly deleted. And then I learned that other comments had been deleted as well. And then comments were locked down. But the post stayed. It's still there now. I added "Blog about ATV's" and "Find out about youth ATV safety programs" to my personal and work To Do lists. Time passed.

I started reading the blog less often. It was starting to get depressing. There were DIY solutions that were so time-consuming that the tradeoff with a ready-made solution was not worth it. (And these were not for superior outcomes like an eco-friendly cleaner.) The "we saved up" columns continued to be hit or miss. Great, someone saved up for a van to transport their family or the down payment on a house! But in-between there were stories of hardship and deprivation.

But tonight, a straw has broken this camel's back. A post about ways to make money and get rewards with your smart phone included a comment that broke my heart. The recommended strategies for cashing in on a smart phone included things like taking pictures of store displays and going on retail scavenger hunts and scanning bar codes for points or cash. Um, okay, I guess I'm okay with that. It's your time and if you find its value to be equal to 10 cents for 5-10 minutes I'm not going to shame you for that. And then there was that comment...

Her husband has a smart phone with a data plan which is justified by his business need. She's wondering if she could make enough cash each month to offset the cost of a data plan for her. She says they start at $15.

I just. I mean. I. WTF.

She explains that she "just wants" a smart phone. I click through from her comment to her website. She appears to have some sort of photography practice or business. She might be making money from it and/or her blog. (Discarding the obvious, that that's a reason right there to have a smart phone if you want one.)

I was taken aback. Is it 1950? Can a couple really say she needs to justify the expense and offset it while her husband is enjoying not only the "must have for business" aspect of this (admitted luxury) item, but also reaping its benefits in the not-so-work environment?

I have some bright, talented, educated friends who have taken a hot minute off to be a SAHM and I have even heard them start to wonder what they "deserve" and what they can "justify". I have even heard them refer to their husbands' salaries as "his". I just. I mean. WTF.

... An aside to give you a break from my hysterics but also to say that I am not referring to situations where luxuries are chosen in place of necessities. I respect cutting back on "wants" to provide for "needs" and more important "wants" great and small. ...

At the same time, these years of thrift, of want taking a big backseat to need came crashing down on me. I don't want to read stories of people who saved up for three years to buy some piece of shit van to replace a shittier van. I'm not saying I want them to finance a gold-plated Hummer they can't afford, but that there surely must be some middle ground where people can accomplish their goals without it being their life's work to get a cell phone.

So, at last I will unsubscribe from this terribly uplifting blog full of woefully inspiring tales of people who did without to make do. There. That wasn't so hard.

Holiday Greetings

We have gone to pumpkin patches twice to try to capture the quintessential fall photo of Hac. So far, we've deleted many, many photos, but we've gotten a couple of decent shots. I print photos as quickly as I take them. I have a somewhat OCD system, too. Shocking, I know. I download pics to iPhoto after each shoot. Then, I am fairly consistent at naming, tagging and rating at least the best pictures in the bunch. It also helps to delete the duds ASAP. In the last year my active photo library has ballooned from about 4,000 to 18,000 pictures even with this system, thousands of deletions, and a bit of archiving.

The photos I flag - the best of the best- get immediately uploaded to my favorite photo sharing and printing  sites. It has just become part of the process. This does two things: it keeps a steady stream of fresh photos available for family and friends and it has me poised to act when a good sale is happening on the photo printing sites.

In Hac's first year, I've printed greeting cards for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthdays and Thank You cards and his first birthday party invitation. I've also printed lots of photo books, enlargements and collages. I even have a magnet nestled in my photo stash for the holidays. I have tried all of the services out there and one of the best is Shutterfly. It consistently produces better pictures than any of the print and pick up places I've tried and virtually all of the online and mail photo shops.

Check it out for the holidays. You get 50 free prints when you sign up as a new Shutterfly member!

Some links to their products:

http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/christmas-cards
http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/holiday-cards
http://www.shutterfly.com/photo-books
http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/birth-announcements

Star Wars Pancake Battle

We received the Williams-Sonoma Star Wars pancake set from a friend way back at the baby shower. I hadn't had the wherewithal to make them for a few months and then I decided we'd all sample them together so we waited until Hac was ready for them.

On Jac's birthday I set out on my maiden SW pancake-making voyage. Admittedly, I made some rookie mistakes. I was making pumpkin pancakes instead of plain ones so the consistency was a little different, but that wasn't the issue. No, I pretty much forgot about the existence of butter and/or cooking spray until I'd already poured the pancakes into their molds. Not good. Also non-stick pans and accessories are not as forgiving as one might hope. I tried to retroactively grease the wheels but it was not successful.

But, I gave it another whirl and the pancakes were passable. I know better now. Next time I will thoroughly grease everything before I go anywhere near the batter and I'll put a bit less in each mold so that the openings are more pronounced. Still, they were deliiiicious. 

A Tale of Two Roses

There is a rose plant in our back yard that cannot be thwarted. We have shown it no love and the only attention it ever gets is not good. Yet, year after year it surprises us with a few amazing blooms. I have been in a rush or having a @&*y day and looked up (while taking out the trash, no less) to spot a perfect flower in my face. Such was the case the other night after the rain. Yesterday I clipped the rose and brought it in and today it opened up nicely. I wouldn't usually say I am a "pink rose girl" but these lovelies have livened things up around here.

Yo Gabba Gabba Time

As parents, we are obsessed with Yo GabbaGabba. It is one kids show that does not make us lose our minds. So we gave the little one a Gabba-themed birthday party and I made a colorful cake.

 I'm thrilled with the way it turned out. I bought two boxes of whit cake mix and gel good coloring. I separated prepared batter into 6 equal bowls. I colored each layer to match the characters. I baked each layer in a 9" round pan until a cake tester cake out cleanly - approximately 15 minutes. Let each layer cool individually (also makes much sturdier for lifting. I used a basic buttercream frosting recipe (and it was white enough). Layer each cake in desired color order (I wanted it to look Yo Gabba and not Christmas or rainbow.) Frost in-between. Do a crumb coating of frosting. Chill. (I chilled overnight and finished frosting in the morning. First thing in the morning, I applied the decal. (I think the time helped it meld with the frosting.) There was no "papery" sensation to it.

Having a cake frosting turntable was... awesome! I finished the white frosting layer, filled a bag with yellow frosting and a star tip and slowly covered the sides with stars. I started with logs on top. They were great because I did not have to make a single, perfect ring around the top. Below the long ring, I made a row of stars, turning throughout. The hardest part of the entire cake is recognizing when the frosting has warmed in your hands and is getting less firm. Then it is time to take a 5-10 minute break while the frosting cools in the fridge and your icing hands get a rest. Follow each row of stars to the bottom. You could line the based with logs or beads of frosting, but my stars looked nice.

Refrigerate the cake again until ready to serve. When slicing, We sliced the first two pieces before removing the second one cut, which made for cleaner slices.

Yum!

Back in the Saddle

What hiatus? Enjoy this license plate spotted in Arlington today.

Costco Madness

This weekend we went to Costco -- when it opened, on a Sunday morning. We have officially lost our damn minds. I had been there recently scoping out baby items, but Jac hadn't been in years. We flooded into the store with the teeming hordes of Northern Virginians intent finding big box bargains. I was conscious of my desire to lag a bit rather than go with the frenzied flow in the store. If you just stay in the current you'll sweep around the whole floor in 10 minutes having made no strategic acquisitions. We were looking for a few specific things. Jac, of course, was drawn to the media department where he looked over the new releases and remainders while I pondered sheet sets.

As we left I spied this guy, three kids in tow, running with cart to his SUV. His children all but abandoned, they struggled to keep up with him as he flew across the parking lot (and traffic) without them. I'm pretty sure he was trying to set some kind of land speed record. Perhaps this was a misguided "let's race to the car" challenge. I don't know why Costco has to be such a horrifically bad experience, but I do know why I've been there maybe twice in four years.

Dog Daze of Summer 2010

With temps 90-100 degrees every single freaking day, pretty much all Lexi and Kirby want to do is sleep. Sure they get all excited when we say it's time to go O-U-T, but after a quick run in the yard they want nothing more than to get back into the cool air and doze.

I can't say I blame them one bit. Now that I'm in my third trimester, my lifelong loathing of summer has reached new heights. I would like nothing more than to sleep (oh per chance to sleep - I can live without the dreaming at this point) for the next ten weeks or so until the little moosh arrives.

Unfortunately, Jac has his hands full moving, fixing, doing around the house to prepare some home repairs which have to be done so we can get our rooms ready for the little moosh. This has left me no choice but to appear useful by doing dishes and tidying up (just a little).

Two hours ago it rained fiercely and the temps dropped from 100 to 76 degrees. Relief? Nope, even though it's 5pm the temperature has climbed again to 86 degrees. Have I mentioned that I hate summer?

Parting Glances

Probably the most emblematic anecdote I have about the splendor of Bedford Springs comes from our post-dinner stroll back to our room on Friday night. As we passed through the Game Room (not pictured here, come on this place has a million rooms I can't be expected to photograph them all I am on vacation.) I overheard a perturbed woman summoning one of the resort staff.

"Do you see this here? This is a Scottie dog," the woman explained, curling over one of the puzzles left out for casual assembly by hotel guests, "but there is clearly no Scottie dog in this puzzle!" She proclaimed this pointing adamantly to a puzzle box top image on the table. I couldn't contain my laughter. In a nearby hall I burst out into unexpected belly laughs. Jac ushered me away from the scene as he noted the woman's husband was keeping a low profile in that very hall.

It was rejuvenating to find my laughter. And its source was such a perfect example of why we found the resort so relaxing and comforting. When faced with perfection in accommodations, amenities, food, entertainment and experience, this woman was forced to adamantly point up the one fault she could find - the presence of a wayward puzzle piece where it clearly did not belong.

High-Falootin'

We camped out in the Tavern at Bedford Springs to catch a Stanley Cup finals game. As we lingered in the bar area I was blinded by a light. Then there was smoke. When I turned to investigate I learned it was just this smokin' hot rhinestone six-shooter pistol shirt worn by a guy with a handlebar mustache. I think it's especially poetic that the handlebar mustache and the rhinestone pistol shirt exist on the same person.

Dinner at Bedford Springs

The simple act of making a reservation for this dinner with the hotel's front desk had so transported me from my city desk that I'd missed the beginning of a conference call. When the time came to present ourselves for the reservation, we were already well-wooed by the resort's charms. Chef Konrade sent over a taste before our meal, melon and cream with a hint of Midori. (In which I gently induldged.)

Jac devoured the bacon wrapped shrimp atop a horseradish sauce.

For his entree he chose scallops (good thing I can now make them) with grits.

My chicken in a port wine black fig reduction with vegetables and mashed potatoes was extravagant and extraordinary. I queried Jac when we could have possibly had such a good dinner. Prepared to go back years, I was surprised to discover we'd just had a very good meal at Georgia Brown's. But this dinner was really wonderful.

A Culinary Risk

When people learn that I spent my childhood in Maryland they invariably assume that I'm a huge seafood lover, crab especially. The deep, dark truth is that I can easily recount every time that I have consumed seafood since about age four. I never took to the stuff. To me, of all creatures, those from the sea were the least natural to eat. They were scary and mysterious. They often required strange and excessive tabletop hardware and effort. The only real upside I found to seafood was that it was often served with drawn butter and hush puppies.

But during this getaway to Bedford Springs, I'd set a "course for adventure" and was up for anything. When I learned that a slot was available for a Friday afternoon cooking class with the Chef d'Hotel for $20 I jumped at the chance. No curriculum was available, but I told Jac I just hoped it was something new to me.

And oh boy was it. Our small class of three was greeted with champagne in the hotel lobby. (No thanks, I'm drinking for two.) We were escorted through the recesses of the hotel to the main kitchen where we met the venerable Chef Konrad. He announced our course subject was: Seafood. I was trepidatious about the territory, but delighted that I'd learn a thing or two about a subject my husband holds so dear.

First up: crab cakes. Chef Konrad had us each sample the premium lump crab meat and then set about making his light and savory version of the beachy delicacy. We molded a mixture of crab, mayonnaise, dijon mustard, and panko breadcrumbs and cooked it briefly in a pan with olive oil. We made a rich sauce of soy, miso, honey and sesame oil. Then came the ultimate test: my taste. I ate a couple of bites and knew that without my historic aversions to the dish, it was tops in its class.

Next we made a tuna tartar atop a crouton, but what you see here is the cooked tuna presented to me to accommodate my delicate condition. I still only managed a morsel and felt guilty with each taste tossing fresh from the pan samples.

Jac is a big fan of scallops so I knew when this dish was announced that I not only needed to manage a taste, I also needed to pay close attention. The chef unveiled U-10 scallops which I learned were characteristically large. We cooked them with salt, pepper, honey and butter and I managed my taste, though this was the most difficult dish for me encourage my paltry palette to try.

Finally, our third dish was something close to home. I was called to demonstrate our preparation of spaetzle with a mushroom gravy. I have made spaetzle before but today we made it from scratch and used a large commercial sieve to extrude the nubs of pasta into a boiling pot of water. We topped it with a deeply flavorful mushroom sauce and parmesan cheese. Heavenly!

But Chef Konrad had one more surprise waiting for us, dessert. We headed over to the pastry section of the kitchen and found a chef happy to show us how to make chocolate-dipped strawberries with an intricate patten. The magic trick involved patterned pastry transfer paper and the chef showed us a catalog where we could order the supplies. We dipped lush berries into melted dark chocolate, twirled them, and plopped them atop the transfer paper. As we gabbed, the chocolate dried and we were able to pluck the berries from the page, now dressed with a stylish pattern. Even better, we each made a half dozen to take away with us.

It was a great experience and just the sort of diversion I'd sought to start off our weekend.

Taking the Plunge at Bedford Springs

As I make my way through the parenting books, one thing is clear: to reduce conflict with your child you can give him the choice between two well-selected options. The child can choose easily, feels he controlled his fate, and tranquility is restored. When we stepped outside our room at the Bedford Springs resort this morning we could choose between a sun-bathed outdoor pool with a cluster of posh cabanas or...

an indoor oasis offering all of the splash without the SPF. We chose... both. First I worked in a cabana by the outdoor pool while Jac hit the driving range. It was heavenly to report to work overlooking the pool and mountains, definitely the best telecommuting I've done so far. Later, Jac joined me for a swim in the vintage indoor pool, one of the first in the US. We had the indoor pool to ourselves, an unexpected luxury.

Get Me Outta Here!

As the weekend approached, my stress was reaching a fever pitch. Work, life, family, a baby on the way -- Calgon was not going to cut it this time. When Jac told me he'd arranged to take Friday off to sit at home and wait for the windshield repair guy that was my cue to get the heck out of town. Afterall, I could swap cars with him any day and we could put his leave to good use as, you know, leave.

Before I knew it, I'd pulled up an oft-browsed bookmark for the Omni Bedford Springs Resort in Pennsylvania. I'd discovered the resort a few months ago while searching for far away-so close getaways. With the heat building in DC, a two-night jaunt to the Pennsylvania mountainside sounded like an escape from the barometric pressure cooker that is DC in the summer.

My vacation state of mind kicked in while I was on the phone with the Reservations Desk. I'd called to see if there were any deals to be finagled for same-night accommodations. As she described the room options I was swept away to our nights of luxury. When she asked if she could make our dinner reservations at one of the hotel's dining rooms I plunged into thoughts of gourmet goodness. Only then did I realize I was late for a conference call and I hastily dismissed her with the confirmation to book that dinner!

I've Died and Gone to Georgia Brown's

Two major crimes preceded our visit to Georgia Brown's tonight: first I left my camera at home and had to use my generation-behind iPhone in the dimly-lit room to take our dinner pix. Second, how on earth have we not been here before?

I've had a dinner at Georgia Brown's on my To Do list for ages. Every time I'm looking for a new place to try with Jac Georgia Brown's surfaces as a prospect. Yet, somehow it wasn't until a mutual craving for "really good fried chicken" got us into this DC haven of homey Southern cooking.

Our meal started with corn bread and biscuits. I am an avowed biscuit-hater (one of the few breads in the world I want almost nothing to do with), but I devoured those tasty morsels*. I guzzled sweet tea lightly flavored with peach. Jac and I, for perhaps the third time in the past decade, ordered the exact same entree. We each got the fried chicken with asparagus and mashed potatoes. For an extra degree of decadence we ordered a side of macaroni and cheese.

When our chicken arrived, I winced. Had they brought me two pieces of dark meat which my unsophisticated palette would reject? Oh no they didn't, they had partially deboned the white meat chicken they set before me. And wow, was that chicken tender and fresh.

Jac had suggested the macaroni and cheese side and I was happy to accommodate him, figuring I could easily avoid the extra side if I found it bland or excessively "foofy". I have narrow standards for macaroni and cheese. To me, mac & cheese must taste like cheese, not be overloaded with eggs, and is better when left unadulterated by bacon, mushrooms or herbs. Well, the mac & cheese at Georgia Brown's was right in my cheesy sweet spot. The dish is so good that, sitting here writing about it, I'm wondering if it would be feasible to drive into town just to pick up a side of it to take home.

We finished dinner with a heavenly pecan tart topped with good vanilla ice cream and surreptitious tastes of a heavenly bourbon sauce. We can't wait to go back. It will be hard to order anything else.

*It is possible the slow return of my appetite mid-second trimester had something to do with my newly re-found appreciation for all things "carb".

A Crime Against Vanilla

Today the pantry revealed a violent crime against Pure Vanilla Extract. Her lid was smashed, her bodily contents exsanguinated at the scene. Bystanders did nothing. They stood, stalwart and silent, as Vanilla went down for the count.

The suspects:

Three prime suspects emerged. Pumpkin, Gus and Joe were in the vicinity, clearly had the means and opportunity, and were known to have a beef against vanilla.

After intense questioning and some very high-tech forensics that I can't show you here, Pumpkin confessed. It turned out saucy Vanilla had been stepping all over Pumpkin for years, making a mockery of it at holiday dinners and keeping it from stepping out in other courses. "America's Favorite Pumpkin" will be going into Cold Storage for a long, long time.

Tasty Tourist Trap

When we walked up to Virgil's BBQ in NYC, my heart sank. Just steps away from Times Square I wondered if we'd gotten ourselves into a forgettable, touristy dinner - stealing away one of the few precious meals we would have in the city on this visit.

We were meeting up with a dear old college friend I hadn't seen in years and years so I figured the company would easily distract from whatever we'd find inside. There was a crowd and a long walk-in wait forming around our reservation time but we were seated promptly upstairs in a lively dining room. The menu resembled a lot of chain BBQ restaurants we've been to, but one thing stood out: "Ten Dollar Hush Puppies!" That's not how they were titled on the menu of course, but in the week leading up to our visit, that's how they'd come to be known in our house and on Facebook as we anticipated the dinner with friends. "I can't wait for the Ten Dollar Hush Puppies!" I exclaimed repeatedly.

My quick phone picture can't compare to the awesomeness that is a platter of good hush puppies, but there was no time for artistry with corny bread goodness waiting. We followed it up with platters of barbecue and my own plate of fried chicken which was cooked perfectly. We did giggle at the school field trip near our table as chaperones attempted to help 25 high school students to split a check, but the crowds faded away as we enjoyed delightfully comforting company and food.

Modestly Named 'Cafeteria' in NYC

We needed a brunch spot to accommodate our shopping route and to fortify us after a night out on the town. My sister suggested Cafeteria in Chelsea. The menu was a perfect match for our diverse mid-day appetites. I ordered the Belgian waffle which came crisp, brown and loaded with fruit and creamy goodness.

A veggie burger and a salad loaded with shrimp and watermelon rounded out our romp through the menu.

My Perfect iPad Case

Since we got our iPads I've been flummoxed by the protection and transportation of the precious new device. I've had scratched and cracked iPhone screens before and I want to preserve this little goody as long as possible. The initial offerings from the Apple store were big and bulky -- taking all the sleek out of my mobile computing.

Fortunately, while in NYC, I found this mini briefcase which fits the iPad perfectly and can go anywhere. It's from Muji, a wildly cool Japanese home goods store.

Delish Dish in NYC at Amarone

I met my dear uncle for dinner at Amarone in NYC on the advice of a colleague. The recommendation was broad and confident and our experience was wonderful.

They were willing to modify the menu pasta to give me one of my all-time favorites, Angel Hair Pomodoro. We devoured an appetizer and salad, entrees, coffee and dessert but found the maitre d' hovering for our two top table.

Depths of Depravity

After all the snow, salt, and now pollen, my car was due for a major
sloughing. I took it to the car wash where they clean your car inside
and out. I only get the car cleaned this way a couple times a year and
each time I thank my lucky stars that I am not a car cleaning person
by trade.

Even though I made my trip mid-week and mid-day the place was packed.
I queued up in lane 3 and waited. Sometime later an SUV (why is it
always an SUV?) barrelled into a new fourth lane. She then proceeded
to cut off everyone waiting in the first three lanes to he next in
line. It was infuriating and when I caught up with her inside I told
her she had cut ahead of at least four other people.

So I was a little ticked but feeling better. That is until I saw The
Ridiculously Demanding Customer. The RDC was a blob of a lady who
looked more like she'd just rolled out of bed than I did. (And that is
really saying something.)

She had asked the cashier inside for dollar bills to tip. That's nice,
but also where we diverge. Since I only get the car cleaned a couple
times a year and I generally find it a thankless job, I tip
generously. Usually $5 or $10 on my $10 wash...

Depravity still to come...

No Need for Familiarity

A new movie is coming and no matter what you do, you can't avoid it. The publicity is everywhere. I don't even really know what it's about an already it makes my cringe. See, I really like Tina Fey. But Steve Carell makes me want to move to a foreign country with few American tv shows or movies. I didn't really dig him on The Daily Show, and it's taken me years to be able to tolerate 22 minutes of his character on The Office. So I find myself annoyed that someone I would watch on-screen, Fey, is paired with someone I know would drive me nuts, Carell. Of course, I'm also not a fan of movies that are about a single day or night (though River Phoenix totally made me forget that in A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon). I tend to feel trapped in those minute-by-minute protracted stories. (Think Adventures in Babysitting.) So yeah, Date Night is not for me, but I'll still probably experience 400 ad impressions for it by the time it settles into video rental obscurity.

Anticipation Straight Up

We went to the dog park today. Kirby is still on the leash for each visit. It's our version of post-winter training wheels for him because he forgets his dog manners over the winter months and we're trying to ease him back into society. But there's one thing he can't hide his excitement about: WATER. Today it was 80 degrees. That's an amazing feat considering a month ago we had three feet of snow. Kirby loved playing in that snow. But now, he wants water in all its liquid glory. He wants to run with the big dogs. Nevermind that most of them are the "wash and wear" variety where Kirby and Lexi are decidedly not. At the dog park Kirby clung to the fence overlooking the creek where the dogs play. He hovered at the gates hoping a careless dog owner would leave one open and he could escape into his aquatic nirvana. We felt plenty mean for not letting him dive in with the other dogs. He will get to swim with the big dogs soon, but we have to prep the car with the Dog Park Bag which holds enough towels to keep the dogs foul post-swim wetness relatively contained for the car ride home. Then we'll have to give him the first bath he's had in oh, maybe nine months. Even if we half-ass it and hose him down in the back yard it's still quite a commitment.


But oh boy, is it worth it to Kirby.

Waffle-Odes

Ever since I got pregnant* food has been a tough subject. The first three months I basically survived on Honey Nut Cheerios. Now I find I have some interest in food, but it's definitely  quirky. So tonight when we went to the fabulous Metro 29 Diner in Arlington, I wanted a Belgian waffle in the worst way. Once we ordered, I had a moment of regret wondering if I should have ordered the easier to accomplish pancakes. I even imagined how I might cautiously request that an undercooked waffle might be cooked to golden crispy perfection. But I was delighted when a picture-perfect waffle arrived at our table. "I love this place," I told Jac. 


*Oh, did I fail to mention that? It's a boy! And he'll be here in September. Over. The. Moon.

Toujours Les Crepes

We've been spending a lot of weekends in the city lately and with the long, snowy winter, spring pick-me-ups are the order of the day. For months I intended to get a crepe pan for our city house, but always managed to forget. Finally, I bought the only one Bed Bath & Beyond had to offer. I could hardly wait to fire it up for Sunday Morning Crepes. Predictably the first one out of the pan was an aesthetic disaster, but it tasted amazing. The more I made, the more I wanted to make. We devoured our first weekend crepes of the year and the next weekend I made them again. This crepe pan is sublime. It is a little larger than my previous pans and it is slick beyond belief, allowing the crepes to slide right out of the pan and into our bellies!

Spring!

Spring is here and the artichokes have arrived at the grocery store. Today I made my first one of the season. Yum! Pure decadence. I watched a chef on tv cull the heart from a fresh artichoke the other day and marveled that anyone would waste the leaves. Sure the heart is nice, but it's so much better to get there through the tender, precious leaves.

Season for Change

Kirby came home with us two years ago. When we met him I was pleased to discover his coat hadn't "cleared" yet. He was still a dark black color. As we got to know and love him, I secretly began to wish his coat would never clear, that he'd just stay black forever. I watched for signs of change. About six months ago I started to see little patches of grey in his coat. My sister, the groomer, said he was dirty and ill-groomed (oh yes, he was). But as this spring arrived, his color change became more apparent. He's becoming a true blue Kerry. And I find, I couldn't be happier. Afterall, that's what he was born to be. 

Amalah Helps Solve Oscar Mystery for Me

Meet the Woman Who Kanye'd the Oscars

Out of the Closet on Cake

I have a deep, dark confession to make.


I don't love cakelove. I might not even like it. And that's pretty crazy considering how many of my bells it rings.


Warren Brown, owner of cakelove was featured on Food Network eons ago, then got his own series. I liked the initial profile - DC guy leaps from the rat race to follow his passion for baked goods. Love that! Also, Warren's kinda hot. Also, DC!!!!!!!! And finally, and you know this is no afterthought, freaking CAKE! And FROSTING! I mean seriously, what is there not to love?


My first bite into a cakelove cupcake a few years ago, I knew instantly what was not lovable: graininess. Every cupcake I've had from cakelove tastes and feels as though it were made with coarse cornmeal. After my first encounter with a cakelove cupcake, I wrote off the unpleasant mouth feel to my overzealousness to chow down on the cake before it had come up to the right temperature.


That's where we get to Point #2: Rules. cakelove has some pretty peculiar rules about its cupcakes. It stores them super chilled. I gather this is some sort of food safety code, but I've had other cakes and cupcakes before and maybe those zany, raw-milk lovin' scofflaws are cutting corners with frigid food temps, but their cakes can be eaten in roughly the same decade as they are taken from the store. cakelove says you should wait until your cupcake has warmed to room temperature. That's just, just, just crazy.


"Hello ma'am, won't you have one of our beautiful if grainy cupcakes?"
"Oh yes, I'm starved and that looks spectacular."
(Sinister laughter as cake is supplied.) "Excellent, now just wait 45 minutes, would you?"
<<>>


And yet, cakelove still beckons. I mean come on, they're popping up all over the DC area. How can you avoid baked goodness at every turn? So it happened that I gave cakelove one more try. I was in Tyson's Corner. I was starving (more on that later). I really wanted a chocolate chip cookie. I noticed cakelove had chocolate chip cookies. I bought some, along with two cupcakes. The cupcakes were (well one was the other is languishing on the counter - a high crime of dessert waste) grainy, as usual. But who can't manage a decent chocolate chip cookie? Who I ask you? 


You know the answer. It is, I am sad to say, cakelove.


Seriously, if you put a cakelove chocolate chip cookie up against a three-day old Pillsbury slice and bake cookie, Pillsbury would win. And that is shocking. cakelove's texture: fail, no chewiness, just stale crunch. Taste: extreme fail, no salt makes the plastic-flavored chocolate chips taste both sweet and hollow at the same time. Plus there's a feeling that you just ate cheaper ingredients than they have at The Great Cookie (which I would rate an 8 against cakelove's 2).


Sigh. Where's a woman to get a decent baked good in this town?