Happy New Year!

Today is not only New Years Eve it is my wedding anniversary. I have the night off from school at the French Culinary Institute, so Dan and I have headed into Manhattan to celebrate. I am going to spend time with my wonderful husband, think about the past year and count our blessings! I'll blog tomorrow. Happy New Year, here's to 2010! Cheers to a happy, healthy and prosperous year!

Chilly Willy the Penguin...

Yesterday I left beautiful sunny Seattle on lovely American Airlines flight #268 to head back home to New York. When it touched down at JFK Airport it was dark and freezing out. Today, the cold weather has continued – I swear it feels sub zero but the local news says its 22 degrees out. I like to further torture myself and add in the wind chill factor, which in my estimation brings the temperature today down to about 10 degrees. Like I said, baby its cold outside. This evening I have to venture out into this frozen tundra to go to school. Honestly, tonight I’d rather be home, who wants to be out in this bitter weather? Good lord, I sound so old when I talk like that. Aren’t Grandparents always chilled to the bone? You go to their house and it’s heated up like a sauna. My Aunt Rose calls a chilly day in Florida 75 degrees. So here I sit, contemplating not going to school because I might freeze my ass off getting there. That's really pathetic, it's not that cold. So, I am going to change my attitude, bundle up and tell myself that all that icy air swirling around me is refreshing.
When I got home last night after my flight a little pile of mail was waiting for me. Cooking magazines, a Newsweek and several cards and letters. One letter I received was from my place of employ that stated since I would be turning 50 in 2010, I had the option of contributing more money to my 401K without causing any trouble. Another letter stated that I could get special rates on my car insurance for turning 50. I don’t even have a car! I didn’t realize that 5o was going to present such opportunity. Maybe there is an upside...Who am I kidding, right now it still just feels depressing. I am trying my best to remain in denial over the holidays about all this and there it is staring at me in black and white – “50 years old in 2010”. It’s a cruel world. So, I took Dan to dinner and tried not to think about it. New Year’s Eve is two days away. I promise after that big sparkly ball drops in Times Square, I’ll start in on my list “to–do” list in earnest. I have got two days left to think about exactly what that is going to mean…

Eat, Drink and Drink...

Christmas day has sadly come and gone. My sisters, who I affectionately call the “know- it-alls”, were in rare form. After a spirited morning of opening presents and reminiscing of past Christmas mornings we settled into our own mini version of “Eat, Love, Pray” figuring out our lives and just about everyone else's. Our version is more like “Eat, Drink, and Drink”, we seem to be minus the praying and loving part. Champagne happily makes an appearance. Champagne is good for any occasion if you ask me. We then proceeded into our Tiger Woods discussion which started at Thanksgiving when we were last together. It is a heartfelt session of what dear Tiger should and shouldn't have done – like I said – a bunch of know-it-alls….We also have the addition of my niece Madelyn, a know-it-all in training. Poor Tiger, let’s just say he should be thankful that us girls don’t have our own television show ala The View. He wouldn’t have a endorsement contract left.
Now we sit in my sister’s kitchen, relaxing after a delicious dinner of leftovers, fighting over the new 500 piece puzzle (who has the piece of red flower pot?) and arguing about who stayed up the latest last night. One thing about sisters and family in general is that there is no pretense. We boss each other around and apparently know what’s best for each other. Which is a very nice thing, post Christmas day or any other day. The spirit of the holiday survived my 3,000 mile trip and I am so happy about that. And that I am here. And for a brief moment in time, with my sisters and niece, we know it all.

Up, Up and Away...

Oh joy! My Christmas break is here at last! Yesterday was a busy day at work. You know how it goes, it's perfectly quiet the few days prior to leaving and then the day you have to leave and put on your out of office reply, all hell breaks loose. It is like a Christmas tradition in itself. Plus I needed to leave exactly at 5pm to be on time for school and that always presents its challenges. Of course the phone rings at 4:59...thank heavens its someone simply wishing me happy holidays.
Shortly I am leaving for the airport for my flight to Seattle. Luckily, the weather is bright and sunny, no snow which is fantastic. I am going to practice my new state of inner peace while trying not to get frustrated, annoyed or pissed off while going through the motions of getting to my gate on time. Recently I have become a bit of a nervous flyer. And I am only more nervous when I dont have Dan to talk sense into me when the plane makes a strange noise or I imagine that the flight attendants are talking about something unpleasant, like a passenger makes them nervous or the bathrooms are about to explode. (I swear that's what they were whispering about) To help find inner peace, I'll find an airport lounge that can serve me up a glass of wine. JFK Airport has a Bobby Van's Steakhouse now, how nice is that? Please if that bucket of bolts airplane isnt going to make it into the friendly skies for any reason, Kendall Jackson and I are in it together. Tonight my family will get together at my sister Stephanie's house, which I can't wait for. Just thinking about how nice that will be ought to calm my nerves. I also purposely wore my red sweater, just a nice reminder that it is Christmas time and to keep the spirit bright. If you are traveling in any form, good luck and God speed. I'll let you know how I do when I reach the other coast!

Celebrating...

Last night was my belated celebratory Birthday dinner, which I somehow stretched into an entire day. I fussed around, had my Starbucks Christmas Blend (remember Starbucks equals the Evil Empire, but I love their Christmas Blend), read the New York Times and watched a few of my cooking shows that I tape. Next thing I knew it was 3pm – where did the day go? Luckily Dan had headed over to Manhattan earlier in the day, so I had the luxury of our pea pod sized bathroom to myself. Dan can take over a bathroom worse than a sorority sister before the spring fling. For my last Birthday in my 40’s, I pulled out all the stops. I carefully dried my hair, didn’t leave a strand damp. I actually put on mascara…something I hate to do. Hate is a strong word for a makeup application but mascara is no easy task. Its also depressing I might add, to try and put on mascara when you do not have eyelashes anymore! It’s not as if I ever had gorgeous thick eyelashes, but this is ridiculous. Where did they go for heavens sake? Ugh, like I said, depressing but I pressed on. I decided on the standard all black outfit for the evening, hoping for that magical slimming effect. I noticed as I gave myself the once over while walking out the door, that my "fancy" black sweater had a big crease across the chest from being folded for so long! That’s a pathetic statement on my social life. It was too late to change so I said a little prayer that the crease would fall out over the course of the evening, hopefully before dinner. I left the apartment, trudging through the newly fallen snow to the 7 train and into Manhattan to meet Dan. I found him at the Ritz Carlton on Central Park South, where we go for our Birthday drinks. I’d like to think we were regulars there, but we don’t have the bankroll for that. The best bartender in Manhattan is there, Norman. Norman is a classic and he makes us feel like regulars, which is one of the reasons why we adore him. Another reason is he calls me young lady, which I drink up even faster than the perfectly chilled champagne. The bar room at the hotel is stunning any time of year, but during the holidays it is spectacular. I recommend it for a splurge.
After drinks, we went to Marea Restaurant, which is the third of Chef Michael White and restaurateur Chris Cannon’s dining establishments. To quote their website, they serve “a fresh interpretation of Italian coastal cuisine.” The dinner was simply mouth-watering. The service was impeccable but didn’t intrude. We ordered the tasting menu: seafood, pasta, main, dessert. Every plate was indeed fresh, perfectly balanced and bursting with flavor. Dessert was decadent and refreshing at the same time. The restaurant itself wasn’t stuffy, it had a comfortable modern vibe to it, with rich dark wood walls and red modern chandeliers. When I walked downstairs to the ladies room, I felt like I was on an expensive yacht. (Is there any other kind?) There was an initial moment of panic when we were first seated. I worried my derrière wasn’t going to fit into the petite hip leather chair they graciously pulled out for me (it really was small!) but I wiggled my way down into its cushion and saved myself any potential embarrassment. The chair was definitely form over function, the sides of it hugged my like an old fashioned girdle. I did however completely forget all about that small chair when the first few dishes arrived. With each dish, the meal transported me to a small seaside town in Italy somewhere. Somewhere that had a big comfy chair. After dinner, we jumped into a cab to see the towering Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Gazing at that twinkling tree covered in lights could put even Scrooge in the holiday spirit. It was a lovely Birthday and a special one. Dan, the hopeless romantic that he is, surprised me again.

Saturday rituals...

Today is Saturday which means I go through my usual pre game night rituals before attending school. Later this afternoon I will head downtown on the subway to the French Culinary Institute for a night of srvice. Now that I am in the last two levels of school (out of six) we are working and learning in the kitchen of the school's restaurant, L'Ecole. I love when I am in that kitchen under the direction of Chef Jason. I am all over this Chef. He is tough but smart, talented and the fact that he laughs at my jokes also works in his favor. Plus he really knows his food. I heard him talking about a meal he had last week and although I hardly remember the ingredients, something a little frightening like bone marrow and a tail were involved, I remember his detailed and passionate description. It was as if he was talking about a long lost love, how good she was. I love hearing Chefs talk about food! That is one of the things I enjoy most. For me though, it's the getting to school that is the tough part. Its hard to leave the comfort of my apartment and my sweet husband Dan that is difficult. Dan, Danny as I usually call him, does make my Saturday a little nicer by making me lunch, a farewell of sorts. Lately its been a tasty sandwich which I refer to as my New Jersey Italian sub. That's because the only other place I ate such a concoction was when we lived in New Jersey with an overflowing Italian deli literally across the street. It doesnt get much better than that, or does it? For us, fortunately it has, in the form of Rosario's Italian shop in Astoria, Queens. Savory cheeses, succulent cuts of mortadella, prosciutto de parma, salami and bread with a crunchy crust and a soft chewy inside. Every Saturday, to ease my separation anxiety before I leave our apartment, Danny makes me a sandwich from his shopping excursion to Rosario's. Its always a variation of the above mentioned goods and it is always delicious. Believe me, when the clock says 9:30pm and I have only stolen small tastes of the various dishes we are preparing that night at L'Ecole, I am thankful for the Italian sandwich which has kept my stomach from growling too loudly. I always look forward to thanking my husband later that night when I see him at Leahy's Irish Pub with the usual neighborhood suspects...another Saturday ritual I have come to enjoy...

Tis' the seaon...

So today it’s Friday – at long lovely last. It’s been a busy week – school, my Birthday, shopping, work. I am ready to go home and get “toe up” as my dear friend Charlie would say. Toe up usually involves a glass of wine…so even better.
Dinner tonight will be easy as my adopted daughter from school, Alexandra (who I affectionately just call “baby”) made me some beautiful Puerto Rican pasteles which appear to be similar to tamales. When I peered inside the bag that she gave me, they were all tied up like fine looking little presents. What is better than a homemade gift you can eat! They are traditionally made around the holidays but they sound so delicious, who wants to limit them just to December. They are filled with green banana plantain, yautia (don’t know what it is but it sounds exotic) potato, olive, red peppers and pork. Not too spicy she told me. She is an amazing cook, young and fearless, so I am sure they will taste divine. I feel fortunate that she included me in her gift giving because when I asked her what she did on her two days off, she told me “I made your pasteles!”, which leads me to believe they must take a considerable amount of time and effort.

My own gift giving on the other hand is not going as smoothly. Being thwarted by the need to be able to pack gifts into my battered suitcase as I head to Seattle, I am at an impasse. My family does a little gift exchange on Christmas morning. My sister Stephanie insists upon presents. She loves getting gifts but interestingly enough, she is also the best gift giver. We will all be ninety and she’ll still be demanding a gift exchange. “Honey, it’s a backpack for your walker”. Unfortunately, this year I have been slow to shop, which therefore rules out one of my all time favorite things in life, free shipping. Now I’m down to the 2 or 3 day ship. Which is so expensive, I am certain it’s where websites make half their money on slackers like me. Therefore, I am looking at gift cards, which seem so horribly unoriginal but let’s admit everybody secretly loves getting one. You get that card and it’s like having a temporary sugar daddy. People say it’s so boring, but believe me when I shop with a gift card, I am not bored! Four women who I work with gave me a gift card to Sur La Table – a cook’s hallucination of heaven on earth and I have already spent that card three times over! So thank you my sugar ladies. I think I am going to buy a ravioli press. See, that’s another benefit of a gift card, its pure spontaneous shopping. You treat yourself to something that you probably wouldn’t buy yourself. So dear family, when I arrive on Wednesday for a five day stay, don’t be upset when you see me pulling my trusty little black carry on luggage behind me!

Channeling my inner Jane Fonda...

I have been thinking about my “to do” list for this Birthday year and I have decided to give myself a reprieve about the exercise portion until after the holidays are over. After all, running around shopping for gifts, meeting people for festive drinks and rushing to the airport in my book constitutes some form of aerobic activity. If you can get exercise points in Cosmo magazine for vacuuming and sex, you ought to be able to get points for schlepping on public transportation while lugging a heavy suitcase laden with gifts to an airport, where inevitably your boarding gate is at the very end of a very long terminal! However, I will continue to debate the merits of which exercise program I ultimately choose. I am open to all suggestions, with the exception of SoulCycle. SoulCycle appears to be the latest, trendiest and always booked form of exercise here in New York City. Its the updated version of indoor stationary cycling. Who knew we needed an update? Heading to class with your celebrity friends and wallet you must arrive EARLY to get a spot on a bike! If not, you are out of luck. That sounds like the perfect excuse NOT to go – “class is booked, oh well. I guess its brunch instead”. (Obviously, the exercise portion of my transformation is not going to be easy for me) But move over Pilates, now you can reach inner peace and thinner thighs through indoor cycling with a trainer / lifestyle coach who can “feel your tension, sadness, joy, frustration” according to an interview in the NY Post Page Six magazine with the fitness entrepreneur who started it. This is an “obsession” where people are addicted to their bikes…Hmmm…lets see, at last count I had enough obsessions, a few healthy but mostly otherwise. I don’t need another one. Instead, I will run through the usual list: yoga, Pilates, weights, the dreaded treadmill and see where that takes me. At least until we get out of the freezer here in New York City, I am keeping my list of activities indoors. If I get really motivated in the next few weeks, I’ll take a walk with my sisters in Seattle over the holidays for inspiration.

The beginning...

The incredible French Culinary Institute in downtown Manhattan is where you can find me every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday night. At 5:45 each evening I line up with my classmates for a military style roll call, complete with uniform. Then it’s five hours of slicing, dicing, searing, sautéing, and desperately trying not to cause any bodily harm to myself or those around me. Please, a professional kitchen is risky business, a dangerous place. I have the battle scars to prove it. I haven’t singed off my eyebrows yet but I am convinced it’s possible with the sleek steel ovens that blast their 500 degree power every night. The roaring gas burners in the place could propel the latest NASA space shuttle into orbit. Even the seemingly innocent mandoline slicers are the enemy, with their razor sharp blades just waiting for an unsuspecting finger to pass the wrong way. Terrifying. And that’s not to even mention the Chef instructors, whose words can cut more painfully then even the sharpest knife. “Bridget – why would you do it that way?? Why did you use salt?? The pot is boiling over!!” The verbal blows are just as painful as the physical. Every night when I leave exhausted and exhilarated, I am glad to get out of there without a bandage of some sort, or worse, a battered and bruised ego.

It was early last year when I had a realization that everything about my life was very pleasantly comfortable…my marriage, my job, my week nights, my weekends and most everything in between. A little too comfortable. All that “comfortableness” was actually making me feel…uncomfortable. I needed, in a midlife crisis kind of way, a challenge. Why, I have no idea, I mean really, what’s so bad about being comfortable? In some ways I feel like I had been working to find that comfort for years. But you know what they say (who is “they” by the way??) “Be careful what you wish for”. After a small amount of personal soul searching, followed by numerous conversations with anyone who would listen, I was able to convince myself about the merits of attending culinary school. With friends and family encouraging me, I decided to visit the French Culinary Institute and see for myself if I should invest my time and money or find something else, like a nice hobby or book club. The thing is though; food and cooking were already my hobby. My favorite form of reading is a cookbook and I cried last month, and I mean that literally, when Gourmet magazine announced it was shuttering down its magazine. School would be the chance to elevate my love of cooking and food. I could surround myself with other people who thought that a farmers market was a thrill and reading menus was titillating. So off I went to Soho, to tour my future hang out. I loved the school from the first time I stepped inside. It was hectic and boisterous and delicious. I convinced myself as I sat in that conference room listening to the enthusiastic sales pitch, that this would be my challenge. And what a challenge it has been. I am definitely not in Kansas anymore or my comfort zone for that matter…

Welcome to my countdown blog...364 days to go...

I have been writing a blog forever…years actually. Unfortunately, all of my potential earth shattering reflections on life have been simply wandering about in my head. I have yet to put fingers to keyboard and actually post something. That doesn’t stop me however from thinking I have this fantastic topical blog already started. The Huffington Post meets The Daily Beast! At work when something absurd happens (where I work, this is close to a daily occurrence) I find myself saying – this has got to go in my blog. It’s as if I actually have one. Nevertheless, that is all about to change. I plan to blog and blog big. What is prompting this is that today I am 364 days away from my 50th birthday, which quite frankly terrifies me. How could this have happened? A couple of years ago I swear I was 40. Well, I am not going to turn 50 without a fight and I am not going to turn 50 without my damn blog there with me.

My goal this year is to transform myself so that when 50 arrives, I am not hiding under the covers in a stretchy J-Lo outfit having a “I have to lose 20 pounds in 3 days” moment. I am going to be ready for it. So, it’s going to be a busy year. Getting in shape, finishing school, learning French, reading every book in my apartment, visiting farmers markets and MOMA in one day…you get the drift. I am also on a soul searching journey of inner peace. I am going to find, as Oprah says, my “authentic self”. (If it wasn’t Oprah, hell it sounds like something Oprah would say) At the very least, I want the kind of inner peace that comes from not having a stomach ache every Sunday night when you realize your teeny tiny weekend is over. I want to leap out of bed in the morning and count my blessings. Of course I can’t really leap…well, not yet. Ahhh, another task for the list: leaping. So, I start today…not with an overindulgent birthday dinner with my darling husband, but with a night of school…culinary school to be exact. Of which I have only 145 more hours to go…