Jalapeno Poppers and John

When I accepted a sales manager position in Sacramento, CA, it was late fall and my life became a bit of a wreck. I didn't know how I was going to make my relationship work when John was working as a flight attendant, temporarily based in Tunica, Mississippi and I was relocating to Northern California.... Luckily, things worked out, but I spent many hours on the phone, in tears, wondering if I had made the biggest mistake of my long, retail career. There were few glimmers of happiness over the holiday season that year. I didn't really have any friends there and John and I agreed to celebrate our Christmas over the New Year holiday weekend. We saw each other sparingly, for a few days over every 4-6 weeks. All of our belongings were still living with our pets, in our apartment in Las Vegas. Everything I had in Sacramento was what would fit in my beautiful new Saturn- a box of books, DVDs, a coffeepot, a frying pan, a saucepan, a few utensils and some clothes I could wear to work.

During my few weeks at my new store, I had already begun to share with my peers that I loved to cook and bake, but would not be able to until John and I figured out how to get all of our things (including him) to Sacramento. This didn't happen until the Spring. So of course I was extremely disappointed that my boss announced that there would be a Christmas party at her beautiful downtown home and there would be a cooking contest with prize. I immediately chose not to participate and stopped at Trader Joe's and bought a tray of cookies. I told everyone at the party that the following year, I would win the contest, hands down. They all rolled their eyes, either thinking I wouldn't be there the following year or there was no way to outdo their cooking skills. After I saw the presentation of the dishes, I certainly was afraid to compete and thought, perhaps I had spoken too soon.

My moment finally came. The following year, John and I were all moved in when Karen Hamilton announced the party and cooking contest. She had chosen the theme- Mexican food. Uh oh. I don't really cook much Mexican food. Having lived in Santa Fe, this is one cuisine that I was surrounded with and it was always much easier to order this food in a five-star restaurant rather than cook at home. I immediately began to brainstorm and was leaning toward making a dessert, as I always do. I had a few weeks to mull it over. During those weeks, my friend Leah informed me that she would be bringing chips and salsa to the party. Salsa from a jar. I volunteered to make her dish too- this, truly, giving me two opportunities to win the prize, which was a Macy's gift card.

For Leah, I had already decided to make a margarita cheesecake with a salty pretzel crust. It came out beautifully and it was perfect for Leah's dish, as she always enjoyed a good margarita. This dish was definitely a hit and I'm sure tallied several votes. It did not win.

John had reminded me of a dish that his Mom made for us when I was visiting his family in Albuquerque. Jalapeno poppers. Of course! I don't know why I hadn't thought of them, it was the perfect dish that would stand out on its own. He convinced me that this was the dish to make, but I was also afraid to make them since I have never made them before. He agreed that he would make them the night before and I could heat them up in Karen's oven when I arrived at the party. The jalapeno peppers are cut in half sideways, stuffed with pineapple cream cheese, wrapped in bacon and baked until golden brown. People always ask, "Why pineapple cream cheese? I don't like pineapple." I don't like pineapple cream cheese either, but unless I had told you there was pineapple in it, you would never know. The slight taste of sweetness with the spice of the pepper and smoke of the bacon makes them so delicious, you cannot stop eating them. I promise you.

I couldn't find pineapple cream cheese at any of the three grocery stores I searched. I had no choice. I bought regular cream cheese and cans of crushed pineapple and whipped it together in my trusty KitchenAid mixer. It worked perfectly. We actually decided that we liked it better than the store bought kind and vowed we would always make them this way from now on.

Needless to say, the jalapeno popper was the hit of the party and they disappeared off of the tray instantly. I won first place, got my gift card and redeemed myself from the Trader Joe's cookie tray. If you have not tried these, it is the perfect New Year's Eve finger food. Find extra large peppers, as this makes it easier to stuff and wrap. Make your own pineapple cream cheese and use a good bacon. It takes a while to brown in the oven, you know you're not done yet if you haven't seen smoke pour out the sides of the oven door. Take it from a prize winner- every single person at your party will fall in love with them and ask you for the recipe. Luckily, I was offered a position in Albuquerque before having to top them at the following year's Christmas party.

Guacamole and Grandma

When my Grandmother first visited Santa Fe, she stayed with me and Andy in our little compound. Our house was old and you could tell the original home versus the additions based on the construction of the walls. The older portion had thicker adobe walls, almost a foot in width. The floors were different in each room, but almost every window in the house overlooked the patio which had a cute little tree, Russian Olive Tree, and some wild flowers from the seeds I scattered when I moved in. When I woke up in the morning, Grandma was usually found out on the patio tending to the weeds or enjoying a book she grabbed from my countless bookcases. Waiting for me to wake up introduced Grandma to the magazine Saveur. I had a subscription to the magazine and stacks of back issues floating around the house. I think she read every issue while she was there because I slept so late compared to her early-bird schedule due to the time change.

When I woke up, I would grab my coffee and meet her out on the patio. She, of course would offer to fix me breakfast, even though she was a guest. I never took her up on the offer, but instead we would discuss places we could go for an early lunch. I would give her the options and she would choose. As soon as I could get dressed, we would be in the car and on our way for another day in Santa Fe. We would get to our destination and then place our order. Honestly, before the food even arrived at the table, we would start discussing what we could do for dinner and also, the next day.

I remember us sitting at the Zia Diner for lunch where Grandma ordered the Green Chile Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I ordered the Caesar Salad. I told her that in the morning, I would wake up early and we would go to the plaza. I promised her that we would go to Gabriel's for dinner because they had the best guacamole. We headed out early, although not as early as Grandma would have liked. Later, Andy agreed to join us and we had to go back to the house to pick him up. Gabriel's is out of town a little ways and takes some time to get there. All of the travel time made us very hungry by the time we arrived.

When we walked in, Grandma's eyes lit up, as the hustle and bustle of this place probably brought back many of her restaurant days. Our waiter was dressed fairly casually, but had his crisp, white linen apron and treated Grandma with respect. She told him she was from New York. He listened to her tell the story how she was a waitress at the Skytop and knew that his job was a tough one and that he was doing a terrific job. We ordered our margaritas and they were brought quickly. Grandma did not forget to add guacamole to the order and I'm sure she was expecting a small bowl to appear with a basket of chips. Not at Gabriel's.

After delivering the drinks, the waiter disappeared for a few moments. He appeared again before us with a cart and giant bowl. He peeled a couple of cloves of garlic, avocados and limes and began to make guacamole right in front of us. He was obviously experienced and not just out of the guacamole training class. We were so entranced by his guacamole-making skills, that we ended up ordering another batch even after our dinner was served. It is the most delicious guacamole I have ever had and it doesn't hurt that the margaritas were perfect too. It was so nice to sit down after a long day on the Santa Fe plaza.

Believe it or not, I have not been to Gabriel's since then. I have driven past the restaurant dozens of times since then. Not a time goes by when I'm passing Gabriel's where I don't think about that night where we sat there for hours eating guacamole and sipping our drinks. I think I will save the table side guacamole again for the next time Grandma visits. It just wouldn't be the same without her.

Ring Dings and Mistress Formika

In the early 90's, one of my favorite haunts was the Crow Bar in the East Village of NYC. Crow Bar was a dance club not far from where I lived. I think it was on 10th Street and Avenue A. I remember stopping at the 2nd Avenue Deli on my way home from the bar to stock up on junk food, so I know it had to be east of 2nd. My memory doesn't serve me so well here, but I think it was Tuesday nights they deemed "1984 Night." They didn't take it too literal, so all songs played could be from the 80's. 1984, however, was my favorite year for music at the time- Go-go's "Head Over Heels," Madonna "Like A Virgin," Prince "When Doves Cry," Tina Turner "What's Love Got To Do With It," Culture Club "Karma Chameleon," Cyndi Lauper "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." I could go on forever listing music from 1984 from Chaka Khan, Duran Duran, Pointer Sisters, Deniece Williams.... Okay, I'll stop. I looked forward to the 1984 night and I used to drag along any of my friends that would go. It's one of the few times in my life where I can remember going to a bar with a group of friends, but abandoning all of them because I would get lost on the dance floor. I never had a drink there. I would order water if a slow song came on, but as soon as the beat picked up, I was back out there and never stopped. I left sweating, out of breath, but energized and couldn't wait to find out what they would play the following week.

In the meantime, I went back to the club one night when it wasn't 1984 night. Someone tipped me off that there was a drag queen performing that was a must-see. I love the drag queens and could watch them all night if they are good enough. When I got to the club, the xeroxed sign on the door had a blurry picture of a "woman" and bold letters, "MISTRESS FORMIKA TONIGHT." I was there very early and only a few people were hanging out by the bar. I ordered a water and the bartender asked if I was there for the show. He said it was good I made it early because the place fills up fast for the Mistress and it's best to get close to the stage.

I walked up to the very edge of the stage and waited about an hour before the lights came down and the red velvet curtain opened. Nobody was walking out. Music came on but I didn't recognize the song. Turns out, it was Annie Lennox's "Money Can't Buy It." At the time, that song was not well known. The Annie Lennox "Diva" album was relatively new and I knew songs like "Walking On Broken Glass" and "Why" but not this one. The introduction to the song is quite long and I think Mistress Formika even extended it longer. Out walked the tallest, most beautiful drag queen I had ever seen. She must have been about 7 feet tall in her shiny, candy apple red platform shoes. Her dress, the same color, was skin tight and velvet. I am sure she made the dress because it was so long, it hit the floor with a slit in the back. Her face was very white and her eyelashes were a foot long. She started singing, "Money can't buy it, baby. Sex can't buy it, baby. Drugs can't buy it, baby. You can't buy it, baby." She spun around a few times and as the song grew closer to the end, she got angry. I noticed that she had a very unique way of lip syncing- almost like she was shivering. Her lipstick- bright red with glitter.

I was in awe of her performance and began following her for years at events like Wigstock and her emcee days at the Squeezebox can even be seen on You Tube. I was already sold before she got to the rap portion of the song. But then she started the rap. "Now hear this pay attention to me cause I'm a rich, white girl and it's plain to see...." She grew angrier and angrier as she went along. All of the sudden out of nowhere, something hit me in the head. Hard. I look down in front of me and it was a Hostess Ring Ding in its unopened silver foil wrapper. When I looked up, Mistress Formika had a giant box of them and was throwing them into the audience. She was not tossing them. She chucked them really hard at people and was hitting them in the head like they were sitting targets. At the end of the song, she sat in a giant chair, like a thrown. She opened about three Ring Dings and shoved them all in her mouth at once and left the stage.

After I ate my Ring Ding and ordered another water, I saw the Mistress come out onto the dance floor. You couldn't miss her because she was a foot higher than anyone else there. Suddenly, she pulled off her wig, changed to a new wig and ran off to her next show on the West Side.

I went to countless Mistress Formika performances after that, but always thought this one was the best. Every time I have a Hostess snack cake of any kind, I think of her shoving them into her mouth all at once and making me laugh hysterically.

Rice-A-Roni and Mom

I have mentioned before that growing up, my mother made a lot of the same meals on a rotation throughout the week. Meatloaf, Pork Chops, Spaghetti, Salisbury Steak and Hamburger Helper were among the frequent rotation. She would arrive home from work and start cooking in her Weiss Market uniform which was light blue and yellow. Polyester, of course. Once I was old enough, Mom would ask me to start gathering her ingredients when she walked in the door. She would get the pots and pans out that she needed. Gathering the ingredients was a fun chore for me and I felt like I was helping. Mom didn't take too many shortcuts, I must say. She never indulged in the instant mashed potatoes and she didn't buy things like Minute Rice. She peeled her own potatoes, even on a weeknight and she chopped her own vegetables for the salad.

Not only did we have a rotation of main dishes, but we also had the side dish rotation. Certain side dishes were reserved specifically for holidays, like Broccoli Casserole and Fruit Salad. The everyday side dishes would be Mashed Potatoes and Rice. One of my favorite meals at Mom's was her pork chops (still on the bone) and Rice-A-Roni. Helping my mother cook the Rice-A- Roni will always be a memory for me, because she seemed to be as excited as I was to eat the rice. Normally we had plain, white rice and this was such a treat for us. Mom would tell me to get the butter out of the fridge and she would brown the rice out of the box and then add the water.

My favorite part of cooking Rice-A-Roni was that Mom would sing the song with me while we were stirring. The song was from the commercial and went like this:

"Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat! Rice-A-Roni, the flavor can't be beat! Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat!"

We always ran out of the Rice-A-Roni at the dinner table because we all had second helpings even though Mom made two boxes. She would normally serve our pork chops with Rice-A-Roni and a vegetable, like corn. Dad used to mix his vegetable with the rice and soon, my brother and I followed suit. If we were lucky enough to have leftovers, we would mix them together and it would make a great snack or lunch the next day. I would even eat the Rice-A-Roni clumped together right out of the refrigerator.

Whenever Mom and I saw the commercial, we would sing along and the guy at the end would say something like, "Rice-A-Roni, the better alternative to potatoes!" I always saw the trolley in the commercial and wondered if Rice-A-Roni really was the San Francisco treat. I wondered if people there always had Rice-A-Roni instead of potatoes. Even now, when I visit the city and see the trolley pass by, I can't help but think of my Mom singing that song with me in our little, yellow kitchen in Hurley, NY.

Macaroni & Cheese & Peas and Jeff

Before I became infatuated with Martha Stewart and before I even knew the difference between tuna and tuna salad, I refused to spend money on food. The more I spent on food, the less I had to spend on clothes, music and beer. So I stuck with a very simple routine at the grocery. I bought milk, butter, generic boxed macaroni & cheese and frozen peas.

I worked at the bookstore down the street from my apartment and this meal was easily prepared during my lunch hour. I made the macaroni and cheese almost like the instructions on the box except I added frozen peas to the boiling water and I didn't add the butter until the very end. I liked to taste the butter and it seemed a lot easier if it had melted over the top. One remarkable characteristic of this kind of food is that I could leave any leftovers in the pot, uncovered, in the fridge and just reheat and get the same consistency for dinner.

One day, Jeff came over before we were going out and he said he was hungry. The only thing in the kitchen that was mine and not my roommate's was macaroni & cheese. I offered to cook that for him and when I was at the boiling point, I asked if it was okay if I added peas. He looked at me in shock. I did add the peas and Jeff seemed to like it. But I would never hear the end of it.

If Jeff called me and I was cooking, he would ask, "OH, Mac and Cheese and Peas?" Everytime. He still talks about it and it's going on 15 years. I actually have not made Macaroni & Cheese and Peas in awhile. I'm not sure why, but I do have this crazy habit of always keeping a family size bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Peas are so easily added to everything. This, too leaves myself open for ridicule. Everyone seems to notice that I add peas. It's a very versatile vegetable and if anything, it adds color to an otherwise boring dish.

Lay's Potato Chips and Kenon

After moving to Enfield, CT when I was in sixth grade, we started receiving mail for people named Cartier. After a little investigation, we discovered that the mailman had confused us with a house up the street. They would sometimes get our mail too and we would occasionally have to make the trek up the hill of Clear Street to make the mail exchange. They were friendly neighbors, with younger kids, probably closer to my sisters' ages. Mr. Cartier drove a Lay's potato chip truck for a living and eventually, he enlisted my brother Kenon and I to help him out. When the chips were going on sale or if there was a new flavor, the company provided bright orange stickers to stick on each bag. The stickers would say something like "50 cents off this bag" or "Buy One Get One Free" or "New Flavor!" This needed to be done before the chips could be delivered. Mr. Cartier would offer my brother and I a case of chips if we would go through each box in the truck and sticker the bags. I think he would give us a few bucks for pocket change as well, but I can't remember.

I don't remember it being as easy as it sounds. Usually the promotions were in the summer, probably to take advantage of the summer parties and cookouts. The truck would be parked in the driveway and it would be pretty hot and humid. There was no ventilation in the truck once you got far enough back where you couldn't feel the breeze from the back. We, of course, would have to open each case and there would be two layers of bags. We would have to take the top layer out, sticker the bottom and then put the top layer back in. After only a few boxes, my brother and I would be sweating and wishing we had not taken the job. Eventually we learned that if we waited until later in the evening, we could handle the temperature and make better time stickering the chips.

One Sunday, we had worked about two hours stickering the chips and Kenon had already begun choosing which chips we would take home. I remember thinking how cool it was that we did not have to sticker the last case because that was the case we would be taking with us. I let my brother pick the flavors and honestly, back then, we didn't have much to choose from. There were not all of the fancy flavors they offer today. He always chose sour cream & onion and a few bags of barbecue that he would say was for Dad. I would insist on a bag of plain Lay's for me, that is still my favorite flavor of potato chip: Original. I know that is not living on the edge, but I often pick the classic, original flavor of any food as my favorite. There is a reason it is the original flavor and without the original, we would not have had the opportunity to expand on new flavors, right?

Kenon and I went home, just in time for the Michael Jackson "Bad" video premiere. I had been anticipating the premiere for a couple of weeks at that point and had heard that Martin Scorsese had directed the video. The video was over 15 minutes long and was supposed to live up to Thriller. Michael Jackson, of course was the king of video making and my brother and I were equally excited to see the video and hear the new song. We sat in the living room with my parents. Mom and Kenon each had a bag of the sour cream & onion chips. Dad had the barbecue flavor chips my brother reserved for him. I had my one bag of original flavor. Before the video came on, there were some interviews and by then, we were halfway through our bags of chips. After watching the video, there were some commentaries and everyone decided to give the video a thumbs up. The video was a gang in the city, maybe at a subway stop, and they would break into choreographed dance numbers in typical Jackson style. My brother and I thought it was very cool and we had the song in our heads even days later.

Months later when the MTV Video Awards were on, I thought that the video was a sure winner. Turns out that Janet Jackson had won for one of her videos instead of her brother, Michael. We were watching the awards with our Lay's potato chips, earned from stickering on Mr. Cartier's truck.

Club Sandwich and Leah T.

When describing my career with Macy's, I usually say that I worked for several Macy's stores. I started in Albuquerque, then Vegas and then Sacramento. That is kind of true. The Sacramento store, however is truly in Citrus Heights, California. It's more of a suburb and the mall certainly reflected that. This was the largest store I worked in, actually, because it was two buildings- each three stories. Honestly, if Macy's didn't occupy those two buildings, there would not have been much reason to even visit the mall. Citrus Heights, California probably doesn't appear anywhere in the Zagat's Guide.

Our food court left much to be desired. Sbarro, Sansei, Taco Bell, and a Chinese place that did not have a popular name. Later, we all but threw a party when the Subway opened after having their "Coming Soon" sign up for over a year. There were few other places to eat within walking distance. On the other side of the mall, through the parking lot, we could eat at the Elephant Bar. We could sit down for what my friend Leah and I described as our "extended lunch." This meant that we did not feel like working that day and we would just not worry about what time our lunch ended. This was our way of being rebels and we thought we were pretty cool for taking the longer lunch period. Funny thing is, we never did extend the lunch. We meant to and we thought we were, but it didn't happen. Inevitably, the waiter would see our name badges or recognize us from the last time we were there and they would rush our food and rush to get us back to work. We would walk slowly back to the store, smoking two cigarettes instead of the normal one. Still didn't work and we would arrive back on time, disappointed that we were not the cool corporate rebels we so desperately wanted to portray. We were actually so pathetic about not being a rebel, we would end up telling our boss what we were trying to do and explain why it didn't ever work out.

We probably frequented the Elephant Bar twice a month. We would have gone more, but it seems our boss finally caught onto our close friendship and started scheduling us opposite of one another. It was rare that we could have lunch together and sometimes we would have to invite another manager along too. Each time we decided to go to the Elephant Bar, we would convince ourselves to order something new. It usually worked. Until we got to the restaurant. We both ordered the same thing: Club sandwich, add avocado, french fries and an iced tea. Every single time. It was about seven dollars and you couldn't beat that for a sit-down meal during the work day.

Around the time I was getting ready to transfer back to Albuquerque, we decided to go to Elephant Bar again. We got there and the club sandwich was off the menu. The very nice waitress explained that they had replaced it with a better sandwich. The turkey focaccia sandwich. Not our beloved club. We stared at the menu for at least fifteen minutes and the waitress checked back on us a couple of times before we eventually gave in and ordered the new sandwich. You would think the extra time we took to debate over the menu would have put us into the extended lunch time. It did not.

We don't like the new sandwich as much as the club and cannot understand how they can have over a thousand menu items but felt it necessary to remove such a classic lunch sandwich. The focaccia sandwich is not the same at all, but we do order it every time. We still do, even though we live in different cities and we text each other when we do order it. One time I texted Leah to tell her I was at the Elephant Bar, which is across the street from where I work now and she texted back that she was too. Sometimes you just have to take the "extended" lunch.

Macaroni & Cheese, Beets and Anne McGilvray

For a few years I was a wholesale sales rep for books and gifts. My accounts were in New Mexico and West Texas, which was a vast and untapped territory. Leaving Anne McGilvray & Company was one of the hardest decisions I've made. I truly loved the job and was passionate about the business, but it became obvious to those around me that I needed to make a change. That is usually how things happen for me. Someone will say something like, "Are you just going to keep going with this or don't you think it's time to move on?" While working for Anne, I had to attend a minimum of two trade shows every year and I had the option of attending the Los Angeles show or the Dallas show. I first chose the Los Angeles show because I thought it would be more fun to go to LA. Turns out that it was more fun, but none of my customers went to the LA show, they always went to Dallas.

The Anne McGilvray showroom in Dallas is more fun to me than an amusement park. Filled, floor to ceiling with the most innovative, trendy and eye-catching merchandise, the showroom was the largest of its kind that I have ever seen and walking into the showroom made me realize why I had begun selling this kind of merchandise to begin with. When people asked me what I sold, I would say "whimsy" because I did not know how else to describe my job.

The company would hire a shuttle that bussed people from the main convention center to our private showroom. We would entice some customers who have not been to the showroom before by offering them free margaritas, lunch, dinner or a beer. Free. Customers who had been to the showroom on previous trips would ALWAYS continue to shuttle over every time they came to the gift show because they knew they could find the best merchandise, but they could also get the free lunch and a drink.

As a sales rep, it was a love/hate relationship with the gift show. I would end up being in Dallas for almost 10 days, trapped in a studio suite, extended stay hotel. I used to stay with my friend Dolly who lived in New Orleans at the time. We used to joke that we were the two outcasts at the show because everyone else was from Texas, it seemed and our territories were so unique. Sales Managers would tell us to pitch their bestseller and we would explain that our bestseller was definitely NOT a Texas flag. Dolly and I both smoked (and thankfully both of us do not smoke anymore). We would wake up at 7am and start the coffee and cigarettes, get dressed and head over to the showroom. We did this repeatedly, day after day for more than a week and we would work until it was dark outside. This was also always over my birthday and I felt like a complete zombie by the time my birthday arrived that we would just retire to the hotel, like every other night where we would watch TV, have a glass of wine and smoke more cigarettes. It was a glamorous life, yes. Don't be jealous.

Anne was very particular about the menu she served in the cafeteria at the showroom. There was always the full bar and some snacks that they would serve in between meals. One of the snacks she always served was a terrific jalapeno pepper jelly over cream cheese. We would spread it on crackers. That was my favorite snack and Anne would always come find me to tell me that it was out on the bar. I think she served the same meals at every show, but she really worked hard to pick what she would serve on which days. She would spend a lot of time on the phone with her assistants having them type up the menu, make changes and notify the caterer. All of the meals were fantastic. I don't ever remember having anything there that didn't taste delicious.

The one meal that everyone always commented on was the macaroni & cheese, beets and a side salad. It was the one vegetarian meal Anne would serve for lunch. I think a lot of customers would say things like, "Oh great, glad I came today instead of for the Texas barbecue" in a sarcastic tone. The reps would comment how they would just have the mac & cheese and skip the beets. It was my favorite meal and I always asked Anne right when I got there if that was on the menu and which day. I never in a million years would have thought of putting those two things together. I could see how it would be frustrating because the beet juice would pour into the macaroni & cheese and turn the noodles pink. I didn't care. It was the perfect combination of comfort food and fresh vegetables to cut the rich, homemade sauce in the classic macaroni & cheese. I will never forget that lunch and I have actually made it myself on several occasions. Not so much now that I am with someone who does not particularly care for beets, but has tried and tried to please me by trying them over and over again. There is nothing like a freshly roasted beet with a slight taste of fresh orange juice and sea salt.

And a scoop of macaroni & cheese.

Bacon Double Cheeseburger and Kate & Allie

In my last year of high school, my parents decided to take off to the Midwest and I pretty much refused to go. I like to think that I was a rebel with a cause, but I know the fact is, that my Mom really tried to let me stay and that is how it came to be. I am glad she did that and at the same time, regret not going with them. I know if I did go to Ohio with them, my life would be completely different today and I can't help but think I might have done a few things differently.

The time that I spent in Connecticut alone, though, was not all bad. I had my friend David, who quickly grew to be one of my best friends. I am glad to still be in touch with him. If it weren't for him, I am not sure that I would even own the "Like A Prayer" album. There is also my friend Donna, who I am also glad to still know, who was ultimately the one to plan out how I would stay in Enfield, CT the following summer. All of us met at Caldor, "your everyday discount store." I am sad that I lost touch with them for so long and have missed out on so much of their lives. I don't know how things like that happen when Mrs. Gates, who was my manager at Caldor, managed to keep in touch with me for years and I am grateful to have had her as a mentor. Little did I know, way back then, that I would still be in retail all of these years later. On my first day, Mrs. Gates told me, "Don't be nervous, you will be fine. All you have to do is be nice, that really is our only job."

I hated being alone in Connecticut. The tiny little guest quarters that Mom paid the rent for (and cable and electricity and phone) was not a fun place to hang out alone. My friend David usually accompanied me after school and on weekends. We could always hang out and watch our Saved By the Bell episodes and eat our chips & salsa. But at night, I was left to fend for myself. Most of the time I closed the store and would walk out with my managers, Mrs. Gates or Lori. Lori Cummings was one of my biggest supporters and she really believed in me and thought I was going to be the next Calvin Klein. I loved her. She was the Softlines manager and although it was just Caldor, she tried so hard to make it fashionable. When she couldn't, she would pull the new clothes that came in and we would make jokes about them and try to imagine who would buy them. Lori and I were always close, even when I was the switchboard operator. Once I was "promoted" to Head Cashier, we became even closer. I got to take my breaks with her and we would pour through the tabloids and Vogue magazines to make fun of the crazy clothes people wore.

I would head through a drive-thru, fast food restaurant immediately following work, whether I worked in the afternoon or at night. I would usually go through the Burger King one because it was right there, in the Caldor parking lot. I would order a couple of Bacon Double Cheeseburgers and maybe even a Chicken Sandwich. The cheeseburger was probably the most fattening thing on the menu, but had the perfect combination of cheese and bacon. The entire thing would be microwaved to the point that the cheese acted as glue and held the whole thing together. There was no pesky sauce, no tomato or lettuce to fall out.

I wouldn't even begin eating one until I made it home, usually about 10pm and turned on the TV. I would watch Kate and Allie reruns while I ate my food. Jane Curtin and Susan St. James. I watched them become caterers and I remember thinking how much I wanted to run a business like that one. Too bad I wasn't inspired enough to cook something a little more gourmet than the burgers I ate. I would be disappointed once the second episode was almost over because I knew at that point, all I would have was the 11 o'clock news, darkness and nobody to talk to. I don't ever remember feeling more alone in my life than at the moment the news came on and I am so thankful to now be surrounded by friends who are available past 11pm.

Jolly Cow Ice Cream and Mom

Growing up, I treasured every moment that I got to spend with my Mom. She worked full time and was so dedicated to us kids, that she managed to come up with unique ways of turning everyday tasks into quality time. I have written so much already about the fun things Mom came up with, but sometimes the greatest memories come from the simplest times.

Mom worked at the grocery store and what's funny about that, really is that she did her grocery shopping on her day off a lot of the time. She used to take me with her and I would look forward to going with her. Sometimes my little brother would go, but I liked it most when it was just me and he was left at home with Dad. Mom was not your average shopper when it came to grocery shopping. She had the file box with her coupons sorted and she went through regularly to be sure that none of them had expired. She liked to make her detailed list of everything that she needed. We were on a strict budget and I remember her adding everything up (and then subtracting the coupons) as we went down the aisles. These trips were fun for me and never got old.

One time, after dinner, and after doing the dishes, Mom and I headed out to the grocery. This was a late time for us to go and I don't know why we were on that schedule, but I agreed to tag along and Mom surprised me. Before heading to the grocery, we stopped at Jolly Cow on Ulster Avenue. Jolly Cow was one of my favorite spots in Kingston. I didn't get to go too much, so when I did, it was a special treat. Occasionally, my grandmother would take me there or one of my aunts. I think everyone is a fan of ice cream and Jolly Cow was the best place to go. However, I must say that my mother is truly a big ice cream fan and I always appreciated that Mom would usually stick with a vanilla cone. She chose a very simple, classic item off of the menu and this always inspired me to appreciate the simpler forms of dessert. I always ordered the chocolate cone but I could not resist adding chocolate sprinkles.

Jolly Cow is a vintage ice cream stand. It has a few parking spaces around the tiny structure and you walk up to the window to order your ice cream. Their menu is not big and there are two windows- one on each side of the menu. There is a gigantic ice cream cone on top of the building, a beautiful red sign with their name on it out front and also, a cow that is life-size and looks real where people like to get on and have their picture taken. Along the side of the building, I remember there being a perfectly manicured section of grass with about four picnic tables and umbrellas where you can sit and enjoy your ice cream. Ulster Avenue is a pretty busy road in Kingston, so there was always the noise of the traffic rushing by, which somehow made it seem like you were luckier than if you were inside. Maybe because those cars rushing by did not have time to stop and you did. Maybe they had to go to work or school and you didn't. It was a great feeling to take the time out, especially with my Mom before heading to the grocery. I will never forget how it was unseasonably cool that day or the smile on both of our faces as they handed us our soft serve cones through the window.

Still, I cannot resist the urge to add sprinkles and although Mom probably enjoys plenty of ice cream flavors, I bet her favorite is still a good, classic vanilla. I shall hope to return to the Jolly Cow again, with Mom.

Tony's Pizzeria and Dad

Sometimes my memories are so cloudy that the title of the story does the memory justice. In this case when trying to look through the fog, my memory is blocked by a giant piece of New York pepperoni pizza.

When I was a little kid, I remember getting in the car with my father because he would have some errands to run. Dad drove a bright yellow comet and I always thought he must have been cool because he had this cool car. He had an 8-track player and he used to let me pick from the pile of 8-tracks he had lying around the passenger side of the car. I never knew what I was picking and at this time, was too young to even read the titles. I looked at the pictures and probably picked the prettiest one. Although, if you remember, 8-tracks had those labels that got faded in the sun, or wrinkled if you spilled something on them, so I remember most of them being a mystery to even my father. I'm sure the tape didn't do well in the sun either, so I wonder if they ever melted to his dashboard in the summer. No matter which 8-track I chose, it was a cool band, singing a cool song in Dad's cool car. We would cruise through the city's main drags with the windows down and the volume up.

We would go get our hair cut or stop to see a friend of his. Dad always had someone to say hello to wherever we were. When on Broadway in Kingston, it is almost impossible to not stop at Tony's Pizzeria. I remember Dad stopping in to have a beer and he would always order me a piece of pizza. It was an understated place with a neon sign. Definitely an established bar and restaurant, it felt like you could know everyone there. The pizza was the quintessential New York pizza slice. So big that you had to fold it in half to eat it. I remember wanting to cut the slice (like Mom would do for me at home) but Dad taught me to try and fold it in half. He would fold it for me and place it in my hands to show me. There is nothing like the big triangle slice of pizza with its cheese melting out the middle. I first learned to eat pizza the proper way with my Dad at Tony's.

Years later, when we moved to Connecticut and Ohio, we would check out the local pizza places. Usually terrified after just seeing the pizza, we would miss our New York slices. If the pizza is is round but still cut into squares, it cannot compete. It is automatically disqualified. I never understood why someone would take a round pie and cut it into squares. I'm not sure where their logic came into play. Perhaps we are too picky with our pizza or maybe we are onto something. I think either way, if you are standing in New York and you are holding a giant, triangular piece of pizza, the feeling is overwhelming and it will always beat the other state's pizza. This is how I felt, eating a slice with my Dad, at Tony's.

McDonald's Supersize Value Meal and Leah H

I don't remember everything that happened the summer when I decided that it was time for me to visit my family back in Kingston, NY. I didn't even have a car or an extra dime to my name. My friend Leah decided that she wanted to make a road trip and most of all, she wanted to meet my family. My friendship with Leah sure was a unique one, to say the least and my Aunt Anita was probably the first to realize this. Her favorite day of each month was the 19th because this was the number of Jimmy Ballantine, her favorite obsession on the Columbus Chill.

Leah and I met at JC Penney at Westland Mall. She worked in the salon as a receptionist and I was the Levi's specialist in Young Men's. I could fold a pair of jeans like nobody else. Usually my department was so well recovered that customers were afraid to touch the piles of jeans. I would make them wait for me to get their size from the stockroom so I didn't have to mess up my displays. In my spare time, I called my friend Heather from what was called Mature Men's where they had Dockers and Tommy Bahama shirts. Heather was best friends with Allison, who was a floater and ended up in random departments where people called out sick. Allison always called to tell me which department she was in when she got there. One day, she called and said, "I'm not going to tell you where I am, but here is my extension, call me right back to find out." I called and she answered, "LAAAAAAAAAAAAAMPS, this is Allison!" I laughed hysterically, barely able to stay standing. I didn't even know we had a Lamp Department at Penney's and turns out it was in the basement.

My friend Leah did make the long trek from Ohio to NY, all the way through Pennsylvania. I don't even remember driving. I think she insisted that she would drive the whole way. Leah drove me everywhere I needed to go- work, grocery, home, movie theater, etc. I remember she kept her keys in her purse, but not much else fit in her purse because she had about 73 key chains on her key ring. I don't know if she just grabbed a key chain wherever she went or not- I wonder if she picked one up in New York that summer.

When we finally arrived in Kingston, we went directly to my Aunt Anita's, at Dancin' Tables on Albany Avenue. There, I knew she would be waiting for us with my Grandma, as I had called early in the morning to let her know we were on our way. Leah and I were only in town for a couple of days and it was easy to let everyone know that I would be at the "shop" there at my Aunt Anita's and they could all drop by to see me. We had a barbecue that night and Aunt Anita entertained me and my friend Leah until wee hours of the morning. We laughed at Aunt Anita's "I said to my friend" jokes and Leah just thought my aunt was the coolest. She in turn, tried to make my aunt laugh with very little success.

The next day, for some reason, we ended up at McDonald's. We had gone there because we were starving and could not wait to head out to the grocery, come back home and cook. It was a moment of desperate starvation and apparently, we were not the only ones in need of food fast. The place was crowded and every one of the four registers was open. There was a line at each register. Leah and I stood in one line at the first register while Aunt Anita and my cousins stood in line at the last register. This left two lines in between us. Once Leah and I decided what we wanted, we kept watching my aunt get closer to ordering than we were. Leah suddenly grabbed my arm, pushed me aside and yelled at the top of her lungs, across the crowd of people, "HEY ANITA!!! SUPERSIZE IT!!!" Aunt Anita yelled back, "What?!" and Leah repeated even louder, "SUPERSIZE IT ANITA, DON"T FORGET TO SUPERSIZE IT!!!" This was when Supersize was a newly invented term and not everyone knew what that meant yet. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at us, anxious to see who was supersizing their meal so enthusiastically.

There is not a time when I'm going through a drive-thru or eating at a fast food restaurant where this story doesn't cross my mind... the time I was totally embarrassed in the middle of McDonald's.

Side Salad and Mom

So many foods immediately remind me of my childhood and my Mom. I have kept track of each of those memories in a journal that has become one of my prize possessions. Each memory of my mother's dinners, described quickly in my journal, has one common denominator: the side salad.

Mom taught me to eat square meals because that is what she cooked. At the time, I probably wished that I had the mother that would order out for pizza, go through the fast food drive-thru, or cook things like Velveeta Shells & Cheese. That was not my mother at all. I am not claiming deprivation. She did treat us to things like McDonald's when it was appropriate (and probably when she had the extra cash). We did order Chinese take-out on special occasions too. She cooked most nights, though, and she always cooked a well-balanced meal. It was rare if we didn't eat dinner together as a family and it was not unlike us to invite one of our friends from the neighborhood. I remember our dining room table in the Hurley, NY kitchen the most, set into a breakfast nook overlooking the backyard through the yellow curtained windows. Somehow, we all fit around the table and it was conveniently located right off the kitchen so Mom could go back and forth to retrieve more food.

We had the formal dining room, which was definitely a room Mom was proud of. She kept her beautiful china and serving ware there, but we rarely used the room unless we had a special guest or it was a holiday. Instead, we liked our cozy little breakfast nook for everyday dinners. Dinner always consisted of meat, starch and vegetable. Whether it was meatloaf, potato and vegetable or Salisbury steak, rice and vegetable it always came together in the meat, starch, and vegetable combination. Mom used frozen vegetables and not canned. This is a practice that I still follow, as the preservatives in the canned variety have always left a bad taste in my mouth and then there is the matter of the soft, mushy texture.

No matter the menu at Mom's, there was always the salad with dinner. Early on, she decided that it was appropriate to teach us that we should eat our fresh vegetables and greens with each meal. We looked forward to the salad portion of dinner. Although it probably filled us up a bit and helped conserve the main course, it was not inexpensive to provide fresh produce with every meal, for a family of six, I'm sure. If this was her goal, I'm sure she would have found other ways to fill us up- more economical ways- more potatoes, more rice, etc. Sometimes the salads were intricate and inclusive of so many wonderful ingredients. Mom was not afraid to experiment and she would purchase a fruit or vegetable that we have never tried just for fun. I remember her buying me a star fruit once just so I could taste it. We enjoyed it when we got home from the grocery, but I don't think either of us have ever had another one.

Usually the salad consisted of very simple ingredients like iceberg lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers. She would put the big bowl of salad in the center of the table and we would serve ourselves into the smaller, Corningware dinner bowls. Mom kept a box of croutons in the pantry and she would reach in for a few sometimes. She would offer them to all of us, but usually she was the one who wanted them most. I think if we allowed, she would have been much more creative with the salads. I have seen her load up a salad plate at a salad bar and she is the one putting things like chick peas, sunflower seeds, croutons and bacon bits on top. We had a couple of choices of dressing and my sister, Penny, requested her dressings by color. She would say, "orange" for French dressing, "white" for ranch, etc. Dad would always have a piece of bread or two with some butter. This was actually sandwich bread with Country Crock spread, but seemed to do the trick. As I got older, I copied him and I would also reach for a piece of bread and ask him to pass the butter. This was especially important if we were having spaghetti or lasagna.

Sometimes when my friends would come for dinner, they would comment that they didn't like the salad or that this was new to them. My father would tell them, just like he had told us, that they would have to eat their salad before they could be served dinner. One time, my friend accidentally put too much salad dressing in theirs and it looked more like soup. My Dad told him that he had to eat it because "we will not be wasting any food at our dinner table tonight." I felt bad for my friend, but I knew that this was a normal practice for our family. We did not waste food in any way that I could remember.

My brother, sisters and I quickly grew to enjoy the salads Mom served. Recently, I started remembering this tradition again and have started to serve a basic side salad alongside the meals I cook at home. I try to make them all a little different, but they are all very simple. I am not sure I would be serving these nutritious salads now had Mom not formed this habit for me when I was a child. I thank her for that and I hope to enjoy a salad with her soon.

Meatballs and Grandma

My grandmother has many delicious recipes and she has a reputation for some of the best food around, but her meatballs are out of this world and probably one of the most requested recipes. Once anyone in my family has determined they will be visiting Grandma's house, the first thought that crosses their mind is, "I wonder if she has anymore meatballs." There is something about them that is addicting and you can find yourself eating them as fast as she takes them out of the frying pan. She knows exactly how long to cook them to get the perfectly browned color and consistency that can hold up to a toothpick and also not fall apart in the tomato sauce.

Grandma will make her meatballs with almost any meal if you request them. It is not unlike her to make her Roasted Lemon Chicken with the meatballs on the side. A tossed salad, with the meatballs on the side. Eggplant Parmesan, with the meatballs on the side. Whatever the strategy, the meatballs always take center stage and while you're eating them, you can't help but wonder if there will be enough left so you can take a few home for lunch tomorrow.

When I discovered my grandmother would be visiting me in Santa Fe, I began the plan on how I would get her to cook the meatballs (with me, so I could get the recipe) and cook enough so I could make them last until the next time she visited. My plan almost worked. I quickly ate almost everything out of my freezer to make more room. I purchased freezer bags, Rubbermaid containers in various sizes, all to be sure not to waste a square inch of freezer space. The one thing I did not do, was purchase the ingredients for the meatballs. I wanted to take Grandma to the store so she could pick out what she wanted. This way, I would be sure to duplicate the recipe later, exactly the way she makes them.

I remember when we were in the meat department at Albertson's, she chose a package of ground beef that had a couple of pounds in it. It was a substantial package of ground beef. Normally I would have purchased that as a great deal and froze half of it for some other meal. In this situation, I told her that package was fantastic- as I grabbed another two packages that weighed at least that and dumped them into my cart. Her eyes jumped out of her head and I said, "Yes, that is how many meatballs we will make." I reserved an entire day to make these and I truly planned on using my time wisely with her. I even insisted she purchase the exact brand of oil to fry the meatballs in that she uses at home.

I will not give you all of my Grandma's little secrets. I can tell you that many people use the same recipe for meatloaf as they do for meatballs. I have noticed this when discussing my grandmother's recipe with friends. My grandmother does not use the same recipe. She has several unique steps to her meatball process and she is very particular about her ingredients. Even though I was right next to her the entire time we made the meatballs, I did not grasp the recipe. Yes, I can make great meatballs now and I got a lot out of that day. I got a freezer full of her delicious meatballs and they did last quite awhile, although not until the next time she visited. But I still did not get the recipe. There is not a recipe. It is just Grandma throwing in her ingredients, in the normal order she throws them in. It is quite typical of all of her recipes. It would read something like:

"Add a l'il bit o this and a l'il bit o that. I like to put some o this in and oh, that doesn't look like enough, so put a l'il bit more in there. Okay, that looks good."

This is a far cry from the Martha Stewart recipes I am used to following. Her "l'il bit o this" is very different from my 3/4 c. plus 1/2 a tbsp.

Grandma's meatballs will take you back to your roots, right back to her kitchen table in Kingston, NY immediately, even if you are in an adobe house, 2,000 miles away, in New Mexico. Nobody will ever duplicate the recipe, so just enjoy them when you can get them.

Green Beans and Lisa

I always loved when I got to either visit Johnny's best friend Lisa or if she came to visit us. She is a restaurant pro and loves to show me new tricks in the kitchen. She is one of those people who will be sitting there drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, but will see you struggling in the kitchen and then come to the rescue. Suddenly she is grabbing pans and flipping whatever is inside of them up a few feet and landing them perfectly back in the pan. I sometimes ended up taking the side seat with the cigarette and beer because watching her cook is like watching your favorite show on the food network!

She came for Thanksgiving once and Johnny requested that she make her famous green beans. Of course, in my head, I'm thinking, "Great. Now I have to go get cream of mushroom soup and those crazy French's fried onions." No- she asked for fresh green beans and bacon. I am not sure what else she added- but I remember her leaving the bacon in big long strips like it comes in the package- this way, once it cooked down, it was the same size as the beans. She didn't cook the bacon until was crispy, so it left the beans crunchier and the bacon was a little chewy. The perfect combination. I know there was garlic and black pepper too.

Alongside Johnny's famous sour cream mashed potatoes, these beans were so delicious. There were no leftovers. Lisa is incredibly talented in the kitchen- she can certainly cook so many more things that are WAY more complicated than green beans. Sometimes it is the simpler things that can stick with you forever. I try to duplicate this recipe often. Sometimes I add crushed hazelnuts to make it my own. Every time I make green beans, I think of Lisa.

I miss her. She visited while John and I were living in Vegas, but we haven't seen her since then. I'm wondering if she would like to take another trip through NM and we can cook together again. I will have the green beans and the bacon ready.

Free Food and P. Susan

There is something that P. Susan always said to me that I think most people are thinking, but wouldn't say. No it wasn't that my hair was messed up or I had a poppy seed in my teeth (although I could count on her for that too). She said that if the food was free, she couldn't afford not to eat it or save it for later. I took this as incredible wisdom and we began putting ourselves on alert for free food.

P. Susan was my friend during a time where I did nothing but work- and by choice. I didn't want to get out of bed, except for work and when home, I ate ravioli out of a can, ramen noodles or a generic bag of chips while watching Seinfeld reruns. I knew P. was doing the same thing at the same time- unless she called me.

She would say something like, "come down to ____________ Gallery."

Me: "P. I can't, I'm already in my PJ's."
P: "Just come down here, it's boring, we need some fun people."
Me: "I'm not fun tonite- I'm tired and don't feel like seeing anyone."
P: "Look, there's free food."
Me: "I'm not in the mood to snack off a cheese plate that's all dried up with grape juice posing as wine."
P: "NO! A brand new Asian restaurant opened up tonight and they have appetizers all the way out the door on the patio! FREE!!!"
Me: "Getting dressed now, be right down."

I would get there and P. Susan had no problem pointing out which appetizers to skip and which ones to double up on. She would wave the waiters by or make them stop for me. I had egg rolls, sushi, salads, and even caviar! We would pig out, talk to some people, watch some people buy some art, listen to a new a band, meet a new client and still make it home in time for the second running of the earlier Seinfeld marathon.

There is definitely something about free food that tastes much better- don't kid yourself. Nothing is free. You have to get out of bed, get dressed and socialize. It's out there and it's not government cheese. Whenever I'm down and think I won't have enough to pay my grocery bill, I remember that I was able to eat free at least once a week when P. reminded me. I haven't gotten to hang out with P in several years now. I miss her and I'm determined to find a free meal soon!

Cranberry Juice and Penny

Mom always kept something for us to drink in the fridge other than water. Usually it was Kool Aid and Mom had her own particular way of making it for us. She did not use all of the required sugar, one cup, I think. Instead, she used only about half. I'm sure she wouldn't admit it, but I also believe that she used more than the required water. What that would do to the Kool Aid is make it almost like colored water with a bitter flavor. You got used to it and it was, in fact, better than water. The funny thing is, had you been blindfolded and forced to take a sip, you would not be able to determine which flavor you were sampling!

On Mom's days off, she would set out a glass jug of water with tea bags inside, right under the sun, starting early in the morning. We would enjoy the sun tea later that afternoon and it was a nice treat. Sometimes she made Country Time lemonade. Lots of times, she had apple juice in the refrigerator too. The point is, she very rarely provided us with soda when we were kids- she always tried to keep us hydrated and if we did ever have soda, it was a nice treat. I don't think we ever noticed that there wasn't soda around, but if we were at a birthday party or had some friends over, there would be some soda and it was fun to drink.

I'm not sure when it happened or even why it happened. Someone must have had an infection or a kidney issue or something random and the doctor said, "Get Cranberry Juice." And Mom did. She kept it in the fridge and suddenly my sister, Penny, took to the juice as if it was her lifeline. Instead of waking up and saying she had a bad dream, or had to pee, or couldn't sleep, or wanted to read a book- all of the usual excuses kids come up with- she used to say she wanted her cranberry juice. She had her own particular way of saying it too- "Cran-burrry" and usually didn't even include the "juice" at the end. My sister had very unique facial expressions that made her so cute and so precious, and her face would change as she said cranburrry and you couldn't help but get her a glass.

Eventually Mom was buying cranberry juice on every trip to the grocery. Soon, she got a little smarter and started watering it down. It can be expensive and she drank several glasses of it a day- sometimes Mom would try to convince her to have a glass of water instead and Penny would cry until she got the cranberry juice. "It's good for you, so nothing wrong with that," my parents would say. My brother and I would stare it her in disbelief with our Kool Aid, thinking it was the strangest thing. Penny drank cranberry juice for years. I bet she still does. I wonder if she calls it "Cranburrry" though.

Green Chile Chicken Enchilada Stuffed Baked Potatoes and John

When I first met John, 5 years ago, he was working at a little independent restaurant in Albuquerque called Spuds. They specialized in gourmet stuffed baked potatoes that we frequently ordered for lunches at Macy's, which was not too far from Spuds. Sometimes I would take my lunch and drive over to see John and he would have a potato ready for me when I got there so I would have enough time to eat and return to work.

My favorite potato was not really on the Spuds menu, but one that John invented himself. It was the football size potato (which is truly the size of a football- I used to wonder where they got such big potatoes, but now I know their secret). He would fill the potato with butter, sour cream, green chile, chicken and cheese. He would serve this to me with a side of ranch dressing and some extra butter. Of course I could usually only finish half of the potato, so I would save the other half for dinner after driving all the way back home to Santa Fe.

It made the best dinner- I would heat it up in the microwave with my extra butter and then top it with the extra side of ranch dressing I requested. Sometimes I would talk on the phone to John while eating the potato and he couldn't believe I could stomach eating anymore of that potato since I had so much already. But it was delicious and I couldn't resist.

Once John left Spuds to move onto a better job, we kind of forgot the potatoes. Working there was not always a pleasant experience for him and I think he chose to block it out of his mind. Once we had moved to Las Vegas, we remembered how much we loved that Green Chile Chicken Enchilada Stuffed Baked Potato and John started brainstorming on how he could duplicate the secret recipe. He did the shopping while I was at work and I came home to the perfect reproduction.

Since then, he has continued to recreate the experience for me and has never failed to make it taste exactly the same. It always takes me back to when we first met and it is one of my favorite meals.

Black Jellybeans and Dad

Mom always had the idea of putting candy out in cute little dishes around the house for holidays. I think this was probably more of a hope than an idea. She hoped she could put the candy out and it would last, but inevitably each of us would devour the entire bowl on the side table next to us. For Valentine's Day, it might be conversation hearts, for Christmas, it was usually something chocolate, Halloween could be candy corn. Most often, however, it was the holiday colors of M&Ms and they were usually the peanut version. When I was a kid, the holiday bags of M&Ms were a fairly recent innovation and the novelty had definitely won the buying power of Mom. To have red, pink and white M&Ms for Valentine's Day was unheard of and how could we resist?

For Easter, Mom would set out dishes of jellybeans. Keep in mind this was before the Jolly Rancher or Starburst jellybeans; we are talking about the 59 cents-a-bag version from Brach's. Red, orange, yellow, green, purple, black and white. Most certainly, the red and orange went first, then maybe the purple. I personally enjoyed the yellow and white and didn't let anyone know that I didn't mind if they left them in the bowl. Had I told my younger brother, he might have decided to make those his favorite too. Within days (or hours) it never failed that the dish would sit with only the black beans remaining. Sometimes it would sit that way for days and Mom would say she is not refilling the dish until they are all gone. They would stick together at the bottom of the dish and occasionally Dad would reach in to grab one. This would gross us out as we could not fathom eating a black jellybean.

Dad would notice our looks of disgust and even further taunt us by chewing on the black jellybean and then opening his mouth wide so we could see how it changed the color of his teeth and tongue. Soon, they were all gone and Mom would appear with another bagful obtained from her secret holiday candy hiding place. Nobody knows where she hid the candy and if you looked, you couldn't find it. Yet it only took her seconds to secure the next bag and you knew there were even more bags where that one came from. She managed to do this without anyone noticing where she pulled the bag from.

Now I enjoy the black jellybeans and will even purchase the bag that has only the black ones. Their spicy, licorice flavor is an acquired taste and you must only eat them when there is no risk of anyone noticing your purple-colored teeth. Don't eat the whole bag as it could upset your stomach- take it from one who knows. Every time I have some, I think of my Dad and wonder if during this time of year, he has picked up a bag of his own yet or if Mom has set out the beans in a dish on her coffee table.

Texas Caviar and Katy

My friend Katy had been planning her trip to New Mexico from New York for quite some time. She purposefully booked the trip for late January, knowing that I would be over the holiday rush at Macy's and then the dreaded inventory the few weeks after. This way, I could take vacation time and spend some quality time with her.

The day she arrived, was an unfortunate one for her and a fortunate one for me. The first couple of days were pretty much a blur to me and I don't remember what I ate. I do remember what I drank- vodka/soda. Katy could not drink at all, as she is 7 months pregnant, so bless her heart, all she could do was watch me drink and console me.

She proved to be fantastic at the consoling and in no time, I was back to my normal self. We toured Old Town Albuquerque, where we had lunch at a place where I once took my grandmother, we visited a few boutiques and souvenir shops before heading to the Albuquerque Museum. The Albuquerque Museum is on old client of mine and I remember it being a little run down and low-budget. I don't remember great exhibits, that's for sure, so I didn't expect much. Little did I know that it had expanded and renovated into a beautiful, full-size, art museum! I was ecstatic to see the improvements. The exhibit was New Mexico Now which consisted of artwork of all media selected from artists throughout the state. We had an amazing time, until they decided to kick us out at closing.

The following day, we took the Railrunner train from Albuquerque to Santa Fe and spent the day walking around my old hometown. After the flea market, we walked to the Cowgirl Cafe, one of my favorite hangouts. We sat by the fireplace and we ordered Texas Caviar before having our lunch. Texas Caviar is nothing I had ever heard of before the Cowgirl, but it is basically a simple salsa made with black eyed peas. Sitting at the Cowgirl with Katy, my margarita (on the rocks, no salt) and my Texas Caviar and chips made me feel so comforted. I felt safe and felt excited about the new opportunities I would find.

Katy had to leave two days later, but the memory of sitting at that table, in that restaurant, at that moment will stay with me forever.

Zan(Z)Bar and Andy

Working on travel guides for Fodor's has been one of the highlights of my life. I never would have had the opportunity if it weren't for Andy. Fun facts about me always include that I am an editorial contributor in several of his books. Many times, it was solely my opinion and feedback that warranted the credit. Even more work was fact checking many chapters in his books which at first, seems like an easy job. Not so much. I have a lot of respect for professional fact checkers as it can be grueling, time consuming and frustrating as hell. Nobody ever wants to give you a straight answer and then they want to know why you are inquiring. It can take forever to get someone off of the phone when all you needed to know was their cross-street or zip code.

One of the few things where I actually had personal and professional investment that warranted the credit in the book was the Fort Lauderdale chapter of his Gay USA guide and mini-pocket guide Gay Guide to South Florida. This is one chapter that I was proud to work on and added many entries for restaurants.

I was never a fan of Florida and can hardly explain why without offending those who are in love with the state. I just don't care for the atmosphere in most of its major cities and when Andy and I were traveling cross-country, I dreaded the Florida portion and quite frankly, didn't want to go. This is funny to most people close to me, as it seems when you're in the Northeast part of the country, your biggest dream in life is to someday make it to Florida. Perhaps it is the tag line that it is the Sunshine State and the idea of a palm tree hanging over your head while sitting under the sun at the Atlantic Ocean. I must admit, as a kid, Florida was always what I thought was paradise. This, however, was before I had the opportunity to explore the coast of the Pacific Ocean, which by far outweighs the beauty of the Atlantic to me. This, of course, is subject to exceptions like in the Northeast corner of the country: Martha's Vineyard, Rhode Island, and Maine are among the few that stand out to me. The Atlantic lends itself to the landscape surrounding these places and the weather that comes along with it. Don't hold it against me that it's my least favorite state, please. Please.

There were a couple of rays of sunshine on my trip to Florida, though. There was the opportunity to visit my Aunt Anita in Key West and there was the extended stay in Fort Lauderdale. I never thought of Fort Lauderdale as the destination of my dreams, but it helped that Andy's friend, Richard Gray was there to sell it to me. Not only was Richard someone I would have a crush on for years to come, but he was so passionate about his city and the inn he owned. He led us to terrific restaurants, hot spots and attractions. Richard spoke so highly of his city and did a better job promoting it than any commercial. In his British accent, he always used the word "upscale" and he sold me quickly. I got to know the city intimately, which was rare on our trips, as we only stayed in most cities for a day or two. I ate my way through Fort Lauderdale and found it easy to write about what I was eating and where.

Zan(Z)Bar was a fairly new venture on Las Olas Blvd among the trendy shops and dining spots. Richard told us it was African cuisine. I didn't know what that meant and had never experienced African food. It was exciting to me to try something new and Andy agreed it was a spot we would have to hit. When I gazed at the menu, I knew exactly what I would order after only a few minutes. The zebra-striped, bow tie pasta smothered in seafood was so intriguing to me. I had never seen designs on pasta and I just had to see it with my own eyes. Sure enough, the pasta arrived with beautiful zebra stripes all over my dish. I wondered how that was possible and the chef informed me that it was squid ink. I was so excited to have such a pretty pasta. Not only was it pretty but also delicious with its octopus, crab and shrimp gracing its presence. I thought it was such a simple dish with a beautiful presentation and I never forgot it.

Years later, I see pasta with designs all over the place. Not just at restaurants, but at fun stores like World Market and even at my local grocery. Beautiful colors, stripes and even polka dots have shown up on my pasta radar. It is one of my favorite things to buy- although, I must admit, I usually save the beautiful pastas for a special occasion which never seems to arrive. I think I might start using some for everyday dishes. Perhaps when I do, I will remember the fresh, Fort Lauderdale breeze, Richard Gray, and my trip there with Andy.

Anchovies and Grandma

While my grandmother was visiting me in Santa Fe, I took her to one of my favorite lunch spots. Zia Diner on Guadalupe Street in Santa Fe was not only convenient to where I received my mail and many samples while I was a sales rep, but was an inexpensive break from the more pricey places we frequented. Grandma could have her glass of wine and I could introduce her to the wonderful meatloaf they serve there.

I remember ordering a Caesar salad to start with and Grandma thought that sounded delicious. The salad was simple and certainly not the best Caesar I have ever had, but hit the spot. I think the dressing may not be homemade... it seems like a lot of places are using a bottled dressing these days. Grandma asked if I knew how to make the dressing. She, of course, new all of the ingredients. Probably from being in the restaurant business for all of her life and also cooking Italian favorites at home. She knew of the anchovies, which I think many people tend to not know or ignore.

This led to a conversation about anchovies. She mentioned to me that it was one of her favorite things, but people often hate them so she excludes them from anything she is cooking. She does still buy them and she said she could even eat them straight from the tin. I told her I, too love anchovies and we were excited that we had this in common. When we went home that night, we stopped at the grocery first. Grandma remembered the conversation we had at the diner earlier that day and snuck some anchovies into my shopping cart.

That night she made me homemade pizza with anchovies. She did not put other toppings on the pizza like the traditional pepperoni or mushroom, but just the mozzarella cheese and anchovies. We ate the pizza together, savoring each salty bite of anchovy. We felt like best friends (as I often feel around my Grandma). It was as if we were the only two people left on earth that could not only stand an anchovy, but loved them so much we didn't need any other toppings.

Tomato Sauce and Sean

While going to school in NYC, I lived with Sean. I don't know why- everyone told me not to. But. Sean was my first love. Remember the bench in front of Loeb Hall at Parsons? It is where I caught Sean's eye and the rest is history.

Even though the world around me told me not to move from the dorm and if I did, don't move in with Sean.... I did anyway. (And everyone now knows that they were right, I shouldn't have). It is amazing what love will make you do the first time around. Sean was a fashion design major and had the imagination and the drive to put together some of the craziest projects I've ever seen. He would frequent the clubs, all dressed up at midnight and quietly become famous among the club kids.

We never had any money, of course. I worked at Urban Outfitters, on top of my work study program and going to school full time. Eventually I picked up a part time job at Alphabets too, which was a fun, little store in the East Village selling crazy t-shirts and useless novelties.. As soon as the paychecks were cut, they were cashed and spent. We barely made rent every month on our ridiculously expensive studio that was the size of a walk-in closet.

Sometimes, it was cheaper to just get McDonald's cheeseburgers. They were only 79 cents and if we each got one and downed a glass of water after, we wouldn't be hungry until the next day. Or at least we pretended not to be hungry. Sean loved to cook, which at that point in my life, was not even on my radar. He had this ability to suddenly become a French chef and whisk up an omelet that you could eat at a 5-star restaurant. One of the best things he ever made for under a dollar was his tomato sauce which he served with plain penne pasta. He would take a can of tomatoes, some fresh mushrooms, a piece of leftover onion, a piece of leftover pepper and some herbs and spices and viola! Of course anyone can put this together, but he would serve it beautifully with a dollop of ricotta, if he had some or a chunk of mozzarella in the middle. If this was a special occasion, it would be served alongside a mixed green salad with homemade dressing.

Penne with tomato sauce may seem like a very simple dish. It is. When you're going to school and haven't a penny to save, it is amazing how delicious something so simple can taste. When you're eating fast food and inexpensive lunches, everything begins to taste the same. This tomato sauce with its fresh vegetables sparked my taste buds.

Cheeseburger and Mary

While working at An Open Book, it was easy to fall into the neighborhood's lunch choices, especially as the neighborhood started to get lots of new shops and restaurants. I wanted to try the new places and wanted to get the daily specials, so I could have something new. I never brought my lunch, which would have been wise, considering the urgency of my continued financial situation.

There was a period of about a year where I was addicted to one, specific lunch that for some reason I was not embarrassed to order on a daily basis. This is Philip's Coney Island which was only a couple of doors down from the store. Philip's was very simple- the walls were white, the furniture was white and there was very little decoration. Their daily specials would be written on a wipe-off board, usually with several misspellings and awful handwriting that you could hardly read.

Mary worked there. She was a sweet lady who didn't speak much. She always looked sad to me, like there was something bad going on in her life. Just didn't look very happy. However, you could tell that work was her escape and she would light up when I walked into the restaurant. She would say, "Hi Honnnney!" I would say hello and she would recite my order to me, so used to me ordering the same thing. "Cheeseburger, honnney? Fries? Root Beer?" Yes. That was my order everyday. I didn't want any other cheeseburger but this one- there was something about their grill that made it taste so delicious. The fries, Mary made herself, but they didn't have a fry bin, so she had to make them to order. She would put them in a stainless steel bowl right out of the fryer and shake them around with some salt. If I worked there, I would always say that we were out of fries, since I wouldn't want to do each order separately the way she had to. Often, she was the only one there and she would make my burger too. It was like a burger your mom would make and it was very comforting to me.

On a side note, I also don't really drink root beer. I always order a water, an iced tea or Diet Coke. This was the only occasion in my entire life where I think I ordered a root beer. There was something about the combo, about where I was (physically and emotionally) where root beer made sense. It was delicious and comforting.

When I took my lunch back to the store office, Michael would tell me, "You have to stop eating like that, you're going to get fatter." This was a clue to me that he used the word "fatter" meaning I was already packing on the pounds. He was right. I did get fatter, but there was something that made me go back for more everyday. Michael went through phases with me on occasion. It was a depression that would bring us into eating this kind of food and we would slip in and out of it. Michael would begin exercising and so I would try too. At one point, I joined the gym and went almost everyday. Thank goodness for Michael, he would save me from hitting the 200 lb threshold and remind me of that when I couldn't see it for myself.

I would still eat the cheeseburger if Mary was still there. I bet she is, she has worked there forever. I think I wouldn't be as interested in going there if she wasn't there. I hope she is doing well with whatever was holding her back, in which case, this would make sense if she wasn't there at all anymore. She might have a new life, a new job and a new attitude. She may not be serving the local riff-raff. I think of her, usually when I'm eating a cheeseburger.

Hamburger Helper and Chad

One of my favorite places to dance was the Eagle in Columbus. When traveling across the country with Andy, we had to visit a lot of Eagle bars so he could write about them in his book. Most of them were dark, dingy and uninviting. Much less, not fun. Not the Columbus Eagle. The bar didn't cater to just one group of guys- it was always a diverse group of people and it had a great DJ and dancefloor. They had their nights where it was very crowded and other nights where they would play some remixed 80's music. Jeff and I used to hang out there when there wasn't much else going on in the rest of the city. I remember they played the remix version of Stevie Nicks' Stand Back and Jeff used to request that they play it for me.

Most times when I danced at the Eagle, I didn't drink much. I used to just love the music and I'd be on the dancefloor by myself most of the time. Sometimes my friends would find me and dance for a little while, but they always needed to take a break or get another drink. Not me. I'd just dance the night away and pay no attention to anyone around me. It was a great escape. The one thing about the Eagle is that I felt comfortable there. I didn't worry about how I looked, or feel insecure because people were checking me out. I could dance and not be noticed without a care for the rest of the world.

One night, I was with a few friends. I remembered that I had walked there, which is quite a trek from my ShoNo apartment. I didn't think I would walk home, I could probably catch a ride. When the bar closed, I was one of the last ones off the dancefloor and when the lights came on, I worked my way to outside the bar. After the bar closed, there were so many people just hanging out on the sidewalk out front. We used to call it the Sidewalk Sale. But I was just waiting for my friends to come out and give me a ride home.

While standing there, out of everyone's way, I caught the eye of a guy and he just walked over to me, didn't say anything and just kissed me. He was very good looking and had a nice smile. He said, "Wanna come with me and my friends to have a couple of more drinks?" Sure. Well, little did I know they all lived 45 minutes away in Newark, Ohio. Oh well. I was off the next day.

He introduced himself as Chad and we ended up back in his little one bedroom apartment in Newark. We had a couple of more beers and we started talking about Stevie Nicks. He didn't really know much about her, and she is of course, my favorite. We started listening to her music and he became an even bigger fan than I am. One time, several years later, I referred to a song and he corrected me that the title was different. I thought to myself, "Wow, he has come a long way with the whole Stevie thing, he hardly knew her when he met me."

The next day, Chad asked me to stay for dinner. He said he wanted to cook for me. Hey, I'm all up for free food and happy to oblige. I didn't know what was for dinner and he told me it was nothing special. He just said he normally eats alone and wouldn't mind the company before driving me back to Columbus. Chad lived simply and didn't have much. He liked it that way. He just went to work and came home, ate dinner and watched a little TV, maybe some music and off to bed. He was proud of his apartment and he kept it extremely clean.

Chad served me Hamburger Helper. I don't remember what flavor it was. I remember it being delicious and reminded me of my childhood. Mom used to make Hamburger Helper and she would have a side of vegetables to go with it. Peas and Carrots, maybe. He asked if I liked it and I remember really liking it more than I should have. I realized that it's okay to like foods like this one- out of a box and over-processed. Sometimes it can be the most comforting food and draw on a particular memory like this one.

Chad invited me for many more dinners- he cooked a pot roast for me, which was the most delicious pot roast I've ever had. This is the one I remember most though. Chad and I kept in touch and became friends for a couple of years. We lost touch at one point and then out of the blue he called me when I was living in Santa Fe. I thought we would be friends again, but never heard from him again. It's been about 10 years now. I bet he is still living in the same place in Newark.

Hot Tamales and Aunt Christine

When I was a kid and my father brought me candy, it was a special treat. As much as I love candy, it is not because I got a lot of it when I was a kid. We didn't have candy everyday and we didn't have dessert after every dinner. My mother would sometimes have ice cream in the freezer and after everyone got a dish of ice cream, the half gallon container was usually gone. In the summertime, Mom would buy Popsicles and those, too would disappear within a couple of days. She really didn't keep many sweets in the house and usually when I snuck something from the pantry, it would be a granola bar or a handful of chocolate chips from an old, random bag. I wasn't deprived, but I always wished I could have more candy.

I got the candy when I went to the movies with my friends. Usually my friends would head towards the popcorn and soda, but I would take my money right over to the candy counter. I loved the movie-sized candy boxes and remember always being disappointed once I opened the box. Such a big box to then just put a bag half its size inside with the candy. There were a few boxes of candies that actually had the complete box filled with candy inside. You would only know this from experience of buying at least one of every candy at the counter over your lifetime. These candies are Good N Plenty, SnoCaps, Raisinettes, Dots, Swedish Fish and Hot Tamales.

I remember not daring to try the Hot Tamales. The cinnamon flavored candy had a flame on the box and I did not want to end up with something that might be too spicy. I opted for the Good N Plenty instead- the candy-coated licorice in pink, purple and white. The old-fashioned box was appealing and I liked candy that took awhile to chew, it lasted longer. My absolute favorite was the SnoCaps, basically a chocolate chip covered with nonpareils. Crunchy and chocolaty, these made the best snack at a movie. Most people would eat several pieces at a time- or even a handful. Not me. I ate one candy at a time, making sure the box would last me through the movie.

One time, while hanging out at my Aunt Anita and Uncle J.D.'s shop, Dancin' Tables, one of my other aunts showed up in the late afternoon. Aunt Christine was probably coming directly from work, as she looked all dressed up and smelled like perfume. I remember thinking how she was so professional looking and must have had an important job. We sat on the swing under the wooden roof. I'm sure my other cousins must have been running around somewhere, but for the time being we were on the swing alone.

She said, "Have you ever tried a Hot Tamale?" I said, "No, I've seen them at the movies, but they look too spicy for me." She said it was her favorite candy as she reached into her purse and pulled out the box. The box was the same box they had at the movie theater. I tried one and they were delicious. There was a little bit left in the box when Aunt Christine got up to leave and she left the box with me.

Hot Tamales are amongst my favorite candies now, too, just like Aunt Christine. When I see them in the candy aisle, living next to Good N Plenty, Jujubes, Jujifruit, SnoCaps and Raisinettes, all the same size boxes, it reminds me of this moment in my life. How happy I was to be on the receiving end of the newly discovered candy, Hot Tamales. Now they have Hot Tamales FIRE! brand which are even hotter. I have tried those, too. But I still like my regular Hot Tamales, just one more thing (among the many) that I have in common with my aunt.

Chili Cheese Fries and Jack!e

When I started at Macy's in Albuquerque 5 years ago, Thanksgiving, I met someone that would become a friend for life.

While completing my paperwork for the job, I was in a small room with a couple of computers all by myself. The door was open to the hallway to the executive offices and a woman flew in, the door slammed and she ran past me into the store manager, Erika's office. She said (to Erika), "GUESS WHAT HAPPENED, GUESS." I couldn't hear anyone else in the conversation. Then she said, "Don't let the door hitcha where the good Lord splitcha!" and then Erika walked her in to introduce to me, "Kaline, this is Lisa Reeder, she is an MTM here." She said, "OH- sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here." I said, "It's okay, I can tell we are going to get along great." I stared at her gigantic hair and her manicured nails with glitter. I figured I would make her my best friend and I hadn't even started work yet.

And fast friends we became. Shortly after I started, I acquired the Juniors Department and Lisa was my MTM. Then she became the MTM for the Men's Department and that was my department too. We worked our little behinds off in order to fix the business and we were quite a successful team. However, there were days when one of us just fell off track and we needed a little break. Lisa would grab me by the arm and say, "Food Court- NOW!" and we would turn off our walkies, turn off our phones and go on break.

We ended up at Del Taco where we would split the large order of Chili Cheese Fries with extra cheese (per Lisa's request) and no sour cream (per Lisa's request). We would take our entire hour-long lunch chowing down on the fries and a soda. She would talk me down or I would talk her down and we went back to work as the incredible team we always were.

Later on, after I had to leave Albuquerque to head on to Las Vegas, I missed Lisa dearly. She ended up getting promoted to Vegas and we lived in the same apartment complex. Our time didn't overlap very long- I then had to go on to California and she ended up in El Paso. During our time together in Las Vegas, John showed us the funniest video on You Tube. It is called Jackie and Debra. They are BFF's and they get in a fight and stop talking. This video made us laugh so much, we shared it with everyone around us. Lots of friends now refer to the video. Lisa and I ended up calling each other Jackie. She is even listed in my cell phone as Jackie. We tried to keep it on the down low when I moved to Albuquerque because the other MTM in my store is named Jackie and I didn't want her to think we were talking about her when using the nickname. Lisa ended up finding some fun stationery products by the name Jack!e Designs and we decided that is how we would distinguish between us being Jack!e and someone really named Jackie. We now have an exclamation point in our names.

I keep seeing Jack!e while she is home here in Albuquerque, but she hasn't had the time to come have chili cheese fries with me at the Coronado Del Taco. This upsets me. She is no longer my BFF and I'm writing this to let her know.

Just kidding- I miss my Jack!e and hope that we can have the fries together soon. Perhaps I will be having a bad day and she will arrive just in time.