Tasty Chicago

Another day, another city... another gray city. But I don’t fear the gray, it plays nicely with fall’s colors, and be it Nantes, London or now Chicago, I feel strangely at home atwixt fall’s gray days.

But it is not the hue or the air that is my comfort, but the bustling city streets. The tired feet of a day well-walked. The full belly of hunger satisfied by real food, food that you’ve respectfully earned by moving about using your own two feet. I can’t say I like the early sunsets or the drizzle drizzle (though to date, no rain has affected my journeys). But there is no energy like the city.

Of course, not just any city will do. Last night over thick bites of Chicago’s eponymous “pizza” we talked urban aesthetics. First, however, we decided that Pizza so named bares no fair comparison with the “pizza” we enjoy at various Atlanta-side establishments. Our favorite Fellini’s slice is thin-crusted, lightly sauced, and delicious. The Chicago brand would be better-named “pie”. It arrives piping hot in a dish that more resembles a black, oven-burned pie plate. Its “deep-dish” unlike Pizza Hut could EVER dream of. So, from here forward, banish that allusion from your palate. This Chicago pie has a thick crusty bottom, then a layer of mozzarella, then your toppings of choice, all-topped with a (presumably) tasty house-made marinara with fresh tomato taste and just the right spices.

I know, I was on track to pen a treatise on urban aesthetic, but once again, I've been sidetracked by the thought of food, wonderful, local, food. So, I wont stop at describing the pie presentation, lest your mouth be watering without merit.

I will now do an (over-hyphenated) un-professional, pizza-pie taste-test round-up.
Pizzeria Due: You guessed it, the 2nd in a series of, er, two, Pizzeria’s in Chicago’s heart. Due came highly recommend by our gourmand friends D&C. My caveat to the Due assessment is that I was on the tail-end of a 24-hr stomach bug, and Jeff was on the front-end of worrying he may have it, too. So...we ordered safely and avoided the heavy sausage, meaty versions in favor of BBQ Chicken (excellent, but Jeff regrets this un-Chicago choice), and Vegetarian. The pizza arrived, just scooped from a mini-deepdish. My Veggie was edged with black char, but it didn’t taint the marvelousness of my first crumble taste of the crust. In fact, I rather liked the smoky essence of the dark edges. The sauce was fantastic and fresh-tasting. The vegetables tasted equally as fresh: onions, zucchini and more. Sadly, I could only eat about half my pie due to my nervous tummy, but boy did I enjoy it (and the 2nd half made a stupendous breakfast the next day.) Our server was very friendly; the staff was well-dressed in button-ups and ties. The host exemplified Midwest friendly: he reminded me of a guy one of my cousins would marry. So, our first Chicago pizza experience was top-drawer (despite the wait).

A few nights later, another Pizzeria…we just couldn’t shake the taste of those tasty pies from Due. Another call to D&C and a chat with the concierge put us en route to Gino’s East, a larger, more “pizzeria” type pizzeria (read: checkered table-cloths, brick walls, t-shirt donning servers, family-friendly). Our stomach’s fully recovered and ready for the “real deal” we ordered a Supreme (sausage, green peppers and onions). It was tasty. The same style as Due with crust, then cheese, then toppings, then sauce. The yellow-ey crust was not as good as Due, but the toppings, especially the sliced sausage, were mouth-wateringly tasty...

Unfinished. Jeff finished his meeting and I had to go meet him.

To Mom

We may be a day or 2 removed from mother's day, but I still feel it important to say a few words to thank my mum. She is an incredible woman.
Jeff (and Dad) helped me make her dinner for Mother's Day, which was an incredibly daunting task: she's an excellent cook.

It wasn't a disaster. The grill caught fire, and we had to call mom in from the bullpen to help w/ damage control (i.e. suggestions for finishing off the fish since the grill was now non-functional). But by-golly it worked and we enjoyed ourselves.

to mom.

if I sing, it is because mom sung first
if I create good food, it is because mom was the original maestro
if I make people laugh, i am thankful that mom first made me laugh
if I know a dang thing about "homemaking", its because mom always kept ours with grace and class
if I travel to the ends of the earth, its because mom did it first
if I smell a flower and smile, its because mom has always done that
if I utter strange and memorable expressions, it is because my mom said them first
if I love people well, its because mom first showed me how to love
and on...and on..

thanks mom.

One Midtown Kitchen

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Opening Notes...
Thank you for your well-wishes, prayers, attendance, etc. re: the concert this past Tuesday. I think it went well for being my first solo gig since college. I'll try to keep you in the loop about future events.

The following is the restaurant review alluded to in my last post. It was originally written March 7th.
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Foreword:
I had one of those moments last night that you replay later (like..now) and think of all the cooler, more appropriate things you could have said and done.
It came to be so in this way...
Jeff and I celebrated 3 years of marriage yesterday. 3 years since our wedding celebration. This moment, 3 years ago I would have been having a room-service breakfast at the Georgian Terrace, lookingacross the small table at the greatest guy in the world. Three years later, I still think he's the greatest guy in the world.

We opted to commemorate this year's anniversary, like we like to commemorate just about anything, with a tasty meal out at one of Atlanta's array of interesting restaurants. (Remember my Rathbun's restaurant review from last year was also on the occasion of our anniversary). This year we decided to sample an establishment that has seen it's days of buzz and chatter die down, but by all accounts, still serves inventive, fresh cuisine at reasonable prices: One Midtown Kitchen. One, as I will affectionately name it, is the first child in a family of townie restaurants here. The second to open was Two Urban Licks (you'll find my Tworeview in the blog archives). And most recently Bob Amick has brought us Trois...a more, you guessed it, French interpretation on the hip concept. We've tried all three, and I most prefer One.


ONE MIDTOWN KITCHEN REVIEW:

One exudes the same sleek, trendy flair as it's siblings, and even Rathbun's (now our dining benchmark). It's first impressions, a neon-lighted purple facade and huge hammered steel door, can be intimidating. (The entry lacks only a velvet rope and it could pass for an see-and-be-seen LA Club.) But once inside the, er, velvet curtain, the place warms up and the open kitchen's pleasing aromas leave no doubt why you've come. We were immediately greeted by a friendly host, more local-theatre charisma than to-cool-for-school pretension often found at similar establishments. To further bolster my confidence that this would be a positive experience, joining us in front of the host pulpit also waiting for a table was one of my music icons. Casually clad in a striped button-up, worn jeans and Chuck-T sneakers, Emily Saliers of Indigo Girls fame was shown to a booth with two friends and I knew that One must be a good spot. Honestly, it's not unsurprising to see Emily out and about in Atlanta, and she is a restaurant proprietor /foodie herself. But to me, she is the musician who so often spoke to my soul when I was a teenager, and even now. And here she was, seated one table over, eating through a platter full of raw oysters. But enough stargazing, this evening was about Jeff and me, and the food. Neither of which disappointed.

The service was good, not memorable. Our waiter was efficient and friendly. As we deliberated a wine selection, he brought samples of 2 for us to try: a good move on his part as we ended up with the pricier French pinot over the also-tasty Chilean version. We're just suckers for the taste of French wine. The Roncier du Bourgogne was a good pairing for our selected dishes. Oaky with that old-world tingly character that was good to sip, but showed its life with the various foods we had.

The pre-meal bread selection rivalled Rathbun's in presentation and tastiness. Flavorful, thin breadsticks anchored the bread bouquet which also included delicately fried lavash (or something like that) and a gummy-crusted sourdough - all excellent, and embellished by the house condiment: chickpea spread, sans tahini (so it was not hummus), but with garlic, thyme, oil and a creamy texture. I like the inventive spreads touch, as Trois offered also. We split a house salad as we prepared our palates for the main event.

The dishes came beautifully presented, each with their own sized plate. Again, I must rave about any restaurant which takes care on its menu to think outside the "meat-and-3" box that caters to our American starch cravings by dully pairing (insert fancy-named protein here) with heaping mounds of rice or overly garlicked "smashed" potatoes. By contrast, One's menu items took account of tastes and textures, savory and sweet, and presented them in appropriate portions. Thus the foods' convergence on the plate was less like a well-balanced business meeting, and more like a dance.

The dance that Jeff (and I) enjoyed was a beautiful medium rare cut of salmon, bright, naturally pink and fleshy inside, milky pale pink on its seared exterior. It was topped with deep green swiss chard, plentifully buttered and flavorful. The attractive stack was then crowned with a crispy pancetta round and 2 deep-fried apple rings (think onion rings, but apple! Brilliant..and artery clogging). A cote, an apple-leek turnover that was to die for. Unbelievably rich, not overly sweet and a clever compliment to the other partners in the ensemble.

The group number that transpired on my long rectangle plate would make many a gourmande shudder, but I think it worked. The downbeat was a spicy melange of tender Tuscan white beans and chorizo sausage. I wondered whether the Spanish chorizo's flamenco kick would overpower the elegant seared scallops which sat innocently atop the mix. Sometimes, it did, and then I would alternate between bites of pure, melt-in-your mouth scallops, then fill the end of my fork with white beans and sausage. Once I'd scooped up the last bits of spicy sauce with that gummy bread, I wondered if I had room for dessert. In fact, I probably don't have room here in this post to describe our dessert, but I will try, ever so briefly because it was yet another movement in the symphony where the parts played so well together.

Again I was refreshed by the not-so-standard-fare dessert offerings. Each choice was simple in name, but complex in ingredients. We chose "Kit Kat Bar" which arrived on one of those same long plates, the eponymous Bar in the center atop an artful paintbrush stroke of dark chocolate. On either end of the presentation sat small scoops of house-made goodness: peanut sorbet and curry ice cream. The sorbet was light, not overly sweet, yet full of roasty peanut flavor that played wonderfully with the dense, layered Kit Kat-tasting stack in the center. But I think the dessert's highlight was the curry ice cream. As a fan most any curry-infused cuisine, I was anxious to try the tiny scoop and it didn't disappoint. "It tastes like soap!" I mused to Jeff, wide-eyed. "You mean, it tastes like soap smells" he clarified. Yes, it had a sweet, flowery taste and I wished there'd been more. But, by that point, I was so full the small scoop was just enough.

So, in all, I would mark One Midtown Kitchen among my favorite Atlanta restaurants. Maybe it's not quite Rathbun's but it was a delightful experience.

Oh, and about that moment I'm replaying, wishing I'd said something cooler....
I approached Ms. Saliers' table, apologized for interrupting and said "I just wanted to say 'Thank You.' I probably wouldn't be a musician today if it weren't for you." Which is entirely true. She then asked if I play around town, (insert a few more lines of banter here). She asked for my name, shook my hand, and introduced her sisters with whom she was dining. I then said something stupid like..."wow, you guys are a real talent pool...". Whaa? Anyway, my brush with local fame. Probably could've said everythng better, but I'm glad I at least got to say thanks.

..and Thank YOU for sticking it out through this review and story! Keep your thoughts, recommendations, etc. coming. I like them.

On Curious Food Traditions

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
One of the things that made our time in France last fall so wonderful was the wealth of new food experiences we had (like Jeff's chestnut creme Belgian waffle at right). Well, back here stateside, I’m stuck again with Chick-fil-a, China Inn and Tex-mex. While I’m quite fond of any of the above, they tend to blend into the humdrum of life.

Then arrive the holidays. That particular time of year when we gather with family, whether willingly or unwillingly, and somehow the nostalgia of it all seems to brush the rough edges a little smoother. And there is none so central to these holiday gatherings as food, and at no other time of year do more traditions make their way to the communal table. For example, my employer went all out for a traditional Thanksgiving meal (okay, well, it was a potluck. They bought us Turkey, I brought store-bought pecan pie). However, for Christmas, we had catered barbeque lunch. Call it bucking tradition, but who knows that for some of you, the smell of pulled pork and vinegar sauce means nothing less than Merry Christmas.

My family’s holiday table has never been too steeped in oddity, but we like tradition. Turkey for Thanksgiving, never anything made of sweet potatoes (to Jeff’s horror), and Sister Schubert’s yeast rolls. Christmas dinner tends to center around a pork roast or some sort of beef with a fancy name. I believe this year was “standing crown roast”. Methinks we should have all been seated in some royal hall, wearing pelts and fancy headgear lifting our goblets. Sadly, it was just my sister's kitchen table, though we did raise our goblets, er, glasses to Christ, since He is after all the reason we do celebratory things this time of year like indulging in crown roast and Sister Schubert’s yeast rolls (yes, we have them on Christmas too).

While I appreciate my family's traditions, one thing I love about being married to Jeff is the decidedly Amish-country bent that his family’s traditional meals have. Foods of which I could ne'er have dreamt have been gracing their holiday table for years. And now, I can freely say, I’d been missing out before I had them. Have you experienced home-made hamloaf? Think meatloaf, but with a sweet glaze and several lovely Mennonite women with head coverings joining you. Corn pudding is another Lancaster favorite. It joins the ranks with Himalayas Indian food as something Jeff and I will eat until we’re sick.

Then there are the food oddities that have nothing to do with Pennsylvania Dutch culture or the northeast, but are just Weaver. Jeff’s mum’s homemade pizza is always served with applesauce and peanut butter, unabashedly, as if these were natural pairings. Chicken Corn Soup is another favorite of mine, and in his family’s home, it’s always served with blueberry muffins. Logical, perhaps not. The warmth of tradition that makes all right in the world for an hour, absolutely.

We all have them, odd holiday meals that serve as benchmarks for us, funny dinner-table traditions that no one else could understand.

What are some of your family’s traditions or regional foods that may seem odd to us, but make you smile?

Almost Famous

I don't know if I should take it as a sign that my musings are missed, or that my friends are just bored, but 2, count 'em, 2 folks commented to me this evening that I hadn't updated the blog in a while. It gave me a fleeting warm fuzzy feeling to know that they cared and were checking in. The fuzzies were quickly overshadowed by a brow-furrowing sadness that my life has become either too busy, or too boring to have anything to write about.

So, I scanned last last October's blogs, and decided we'd get in the 'ol way-back-machine for a few minutes and reminisce about 1 year ago.
I was resting up (it is 6 hours later in France, after all) after a misty, beautiful Friday drive from Nantes to the Normandy region. Perhaps we were in Bayeux, looking into small but brilliant Cathedral nooks like this:

A few hours from now, we would be waking from comfortable slumber (remember, any bed other than our thin, tiny trailer park bed was like heaven). Our day probably started with thick coffee with thick milk and some divine locally baked pastry - enough to fuel us up as we took to the beaches made famous by D-Day. The bright sunshine seemed to fade those ghosts of years past who took those shores like heroes. We just stood and contemplated the placid sea, thinking of those young people, not too different from us, who had been there over 60 years prior. .

But reminscing can only get you so far. Today is today, and while I often miss France desperately, back here at home we have friends, family, and well, a touch of fame to enjoy. Not only has bizarro Jeff Weaver helped pitch his Cardinals to the World Series (eh..see we didn't have October baseball's magic to enjoy last fall), but the REAL Jeff Weaver has a touch of fame as well, along with several of our other pals.

Backstory: Our community group from church did a volunteer project one saturday at Cafe 458. In short, they serve good, dignified meals to Atlanta's homeless community during the week, then raise funds on the weekends by serving good, dignified meals to whoever will pay for them to support the Cafe's mission. We all played wait staff and dish-washers for the day, and really enjoyed ourselves and the folks at Cafe 458. The spirit was captured wonderfully on film by patron (and fellow community-groupie) Michael Shivers. Some brass at Mastercard found these photos on his flickr.com page and bam! Moolah for Michael and 15 minutes for Jeff and some of our friends. Visit Priceless.com (quickly before some new do-gooders steal our thunder).

Coming Soon...."Almost Famous - The Music Addition"

Two Urban Licks

AUG 31st.
I sat down a few days ago and penned a blog entry about “good things”. About how 2 of my friends, on of them particularly jobless got jobs. And how my friends’ baby just turned 1…. Her story is one of heartache that has ended in delight. But see, then one of my aforementioned jobless friends’ dad died. He lost his battle with AIDS last week, and she is devastated. And that job fell through. Now another friend is sitting beside her dad as cancer closes in, and there are others.

So, amid the mixed emotions, I suppose I’ll write a restaurant review. Certainly a few good things in the form of food and my husband have come along for me this week. We had a lovely birthday dinner out at a restaurant I’ve wanted to try: Two Urban Licks.

Upon opening, “Two” was the IT restaurant in Atlanta. Part of the now-booming downtown revival, just down the road from the Carter Center and MLK memorial, the folks of Two took an old garage / warehouse and converted into the hipster foodie hangout that needed months for weekend reservations early on.

It’s a hunt to find, but once there, and once having turned your car over to complimentary valet, the place oozes urban hip. Tall stainless steel doors bring you into a high-ceilinged, well, warehouse. Complete with steel grey curtains, candelabras climbing up the black walls and a trend-setting crowd around the bar, sipping mixed drinks listening to live jazz. Further into the space, the open kitchen is the centerpiece. Fires blaze while hurried men in white coats flip things, prep plates and look busy. It is anything but distracting though; rather, the stainless appliances and white-coats tend to meld into the modern, industrial décor.

The edginess of the black, gray and stainless steel is tempered by candlelight and the giant red silk chandeliers that cast a pleasant hue on diners. Then there’s the calm that comes from the art. On one of Two’s giant walls, an equally giant painting looks over the space and brings serenity. I’ll leave the painting for you to discover and get on to the meal.

If the review thus far sounds vaguely familiar – converted warehouse space, haven of the new urban hipster scene – you’re right, from the moment we entered it had the feel of Rathbun’s, which I’ve previously reviewed. Thus the bar was set, everything which followed our first steps inside Two Urban Licks had to be compared with Rathbun’s, whether we wanted to or not.

The service did not disappoint. Kerry was informative, seemed to enjoy his job, and had some good tips and descriptions as we sorted through an appropriate wine choice. More on that later.

Despite Jeff’s general aversion to tomatoes, it was my birthday and I wanted to try the recommended Two Salad – think Caprese with class. It was predictably scrumptious with vine-fresh tomatoes topped with fine Italian mozzarella and fresh basil. The three little pieces of art were then drizzled with olive oil. Jeff even ate one! I thought it was a tad salty, but Jeff disagreed. Regardless it was an exploration in local, fresh ingredients, so hard to come by in restaurants these days.

Ah, a brief bread mention…uninteresting to say the least. An apparent hoagie roll sliced then buttered with garlic and herbs, wrapped in paper. Not a far cry from any Italian restaurant’s opener, but very far from the wonderful artisan breads we enjoyed at Rathbuns.

But the bread is not the feature here. So, it was on to the meal. Two, like Rathbuns, crafts its menu around a New South type cuisine incorporating elements like grits, low-country shrimp and the like. But while Rathbun’s combined these things into fresh-tasting memorable dishes, we were less impressed with Two’s version. They arrived in boat-like oblong dishes, more hip, less artful than I would have expected. The first hint that maybe Two’s fancy comfort food concept is lost somewhere in the middle. And, as I told Jeff, no matter how gourmand you are, Fried fish and coleslaw is still fried fish and slaw. Granted, it was the best fried fish I’ve ever tasted, and probably the most intricate, flavorful slaw, it was still…well, you know, fried fish n slaw.

My scallops were seared beautifully, that succulent melt-in-your mouth quality that just comes from good scallops. I rarely eat them, but when I do, I savor every bite of those tasty medallions. These were dusted with something a little more fiery than I was expecting, which took a little from the scallops’ flavor and the wine. They rested, er, floated on smoked Gouda grits, which were richly delightful, but less than hearty. The smoked tomato puree on the side was a lovely addition and nice, inventive dip for the scallops.

I was perhaps most pleased with the wine, a California Pinot from Russian River Valley. It had a beautiful complexity that, surprisingly for a Pinot, was great for sipping, but of course, paired well our food. Especially the Caprese salad.

In all, we really enjoyed our time there, the space was amazing, and the food was great. But... it just didn’t have the Wow factor that Rathbun’s did, where every bite seemed perfect and where any conversation took back seat to the food.

P.S. If you're not so much into restaurant stuff, at least go see Little Miss Sunshine. Great performances and quirky characters brilliantly craft potentially sad situations into humourous ones...I laughed hard.

Final World Cup Thoughts

7-9-06
I feel rather exhausted at the moment. I’ve just finished mopping up the last of my “breakfast for dinner” scrambled eggs and toast. Sure, I awoke at 7:45 this morning after a late night, sang in two church services, and just a few short hours ago my house bustled with the excited faces of American soccer fans. Those who came into this World Cup adventure swearing that they wouldn’t care, then finding themselves swept up. That made me happy. But I didn’t know I would be so exhausted and sad when it all ended.


As anyone at our little Championship gathering can attest, the Weaver allegiances were unmistakable: A giant blue hydrangea with a hangtag reading “Allez Les Bleus” adorned my front door. My table spread with all things red, white and blue to support… France of course. There was Parisian kitch (from Target no less), blueberries, cherries, and the requisite baguette, butter and camembert. Sadly, the $10 Champagne still rests comfortably on my fridge’s top shelf. There was no need for uncorking or celebration this afternoon.

Sure, I am sad that France lost, but sadder still at the surprising exit of Zinedine Zidane, who had fast become my tournament hero. The 34 year old star returning to the game, as beautiful as ever, exchanging handshakes and hugs with opposing players, rarely feigning fouls (“diving”) during games. His playing is beauty and Zidane seemed to me a class act. Which is why his senseless head-butt to the chest of an opposing player, resulting in his ejection was so frustrating. Even had France won, what a blemish to endure. French papers reported the stunned disappointment of French fans, packed onto the Champs Elysees, unable to relive the glory of ‘98.

I hope they don’t blame “Zizou” for the loss, Italy played outstanding defense and deserved to win. But I’m still sad to say bye to Zidane that way, and equally as unready to say goodbye to this quadrennial funfest of international togetherness. To flag-waving Germans who finally feel safe to rally around their country again. To Ivory Coast players whose World Cup presence halted civil war. To the mediocre American broadcast team on ESPN and ABC who tried their darndest to get all of us ignorant gringos to like soccer. To my lovely, non-sporty mum screaming at the TV and talking footie like she’s been watching it for years. To now-empty pubs, and streets and city-squares that hosted millions of fans of all colors, sizes, economic backgrounds all there together to watch, dream and soak in every moment of one of the globe’s great equalizers: sport.

Thanks for enduring the soccer craze. I’ll get back to restaurant reviews and travelogues soon enough. Allez Les Braves.

Copa Mundial

sorry for your team...(5th of World (FIFA) that is a
big mistake...)

bisous de france

i write you later after we win the world cup
-Matthieu B., in an email to me

As predicted by some of our French friends, the US is down and out of this World Cup, in no small thanks to their inability to create offense. So now my sights turn to the remaining teams. It seems that nearly each country gives me a reason to root for them. Here are some of my favorites (In no particular order)…

Germany – This is an easy one. My people. I am a Wittgens, the child of a German immigrant. Before his family fled the Russian occupation, then emigrated to the US, my dad spent his youth in East(ern) Germany playing fussball in the streets and rooting on Borussia Dortmund. Surely the host nation has my Deutschland heart. I think... They sure looked brilliant against Sweden, I would not be unhappy if they took it all this year.

France – Mon pays deuxieme. You don’t spend 4 months in, amidst, around a country like France and not love it, at least not if you’re Jeff and Katie Weaver. We watched Ligue 1 matches with friends, saw the national rugby team play live, drank Pastis, and trash-talked about soccer. As Matthieu kindly pointed out, our team didn’t live up to the hype, mais franchement...neither have les bleus so far. I still have to root for them though, at least their rouge, blanc et bleu made the 2nd round.

To have France pitted against Spain (Tuesday afternoon) is a difficult quandary. Spain is like my forbidden fruit. The one nation in Europe that most intrigues me, and the only mainland nation where I can speak the native tongue, yet I’ve never been there. I have good friends from Spain and I really love Manchego cheese. But I must raise a glass of Bordeaux rather than Tempranillo for this confrontation.

England – Another of football’s alleged superpowers who have looked less than stellar this tournament. From a pure aesthetic standpoint, the boys in red and white have possibly the best looking team on the pitch, and a charming feature film named after one of their stars. I’ve lived in England for a spell, watched many a Hyde Park pick-up game, and even taken in a Tottenham match at Whiteheart Lane. I know how much pride the English have for their footie. Take it from our favorite ex-pat in London (check out his Blackgate Blog!). I'm sure there will be utter devastation (and lots of drinking) the day England loses.

Speaking of drinking... The keeper on my recreational team is English. He showed up for our game the other night after 5 hrs and even more pints at the pub watching his boys battle. Best part is, he kept an amazing game for us, helping us win. Gotta love the English.



Switzerland – Perhaps Jeff's and my favorite country in Europe. God lives in those mountains (right Michael S.?!). I’ve had some of my most memorable experiences in Switzerland, as has Jeff. The
vistas,
cheeses, chalets, they all seem near heaven to me. I don’t think the Swiss have a yodler's chance to win the Cup (don't know what that means but it's got a nice ring); however, for their next match vs. Ukraine, I'll pick chocolate over borscht. Allez les Suisses.

Brazil – They epitomize the beautiful game. The yellow clad artists show gamesmanship and skill unlike other teams. And their team is favored to win this thing again. The culture of Brazil intrigues me: soccer and samba, carnivale and caparinhas, and on and on. I was a Latin-American studies minor in college, but never visited Brazil or learned Portuguese. I’ve heard that if you visit, you’ll never want to leave. I have friends from Brazil, and friends living in Brazil (more on them later...we hope to visit this fall.) I even have a small Brazilian flag. I need an excuse to wave it some more, so I’ll pick them to move on, probably to the finals.


Australia – The Socceroos have a cute name. Their fans boo like our US fans (all the others’ whistle when their angry). Or maybe their just yelling “kangaROOOO”. (I apologize for those who’ve heard that “joke” already from me.) The Aussie’s have played with such grit and excitement that they’ve probably converted longtime cricket and rugby fans into soccer crazies. Plus, who understands that Australian rules football anyway? I’ve got friends (okay, and an old flame) who’re Oz, and they love their country and will be feverishly rooting on their boys to victory at some ungodly hour in the streets of Sydney. While I love Gelato as much as the next person, I'd love to see Vegemite nation triumph in the upcoming Aussie-Italy clash (Monday).

And a word on Ghana – The Black Stars knocked out my US team. However, as I stood kavetsching with friends about our missed chances, I realized that whatever doom or frustration I've felt is SO far eclipsed by the sheer joy in the entire nation of Ghana, it makes it easier to take. My highschool biology teacher was from Ghana. A friend and co-worker once lived in Ghana. Plus, I'm a sucker for the underdog. All said, I think their next opponent (Brazil) is just too good.


So, there is my culinary, cultural, and virtually un-strategic reasons for picking favorites.

And finally..for a TRUE insider view and wonderful commentary on the world cup proceedings, and Europe in general, visit Andrew and Donna Helms' blog. They're back home stateside now, but their fan-hood and fun euro experiences make great blogging. (I should know, Weaver blog has gone way downhill since we left inspiring France).

So who are you pulling for?

Peanut Butter Is A Many Splendored Thing

Family Update: The last few Weaver weeks haven’t been too busy - I've watched lots of basketball, Jeff has studied, I've beat Jeff in tennis (sorry..had to say it), and we hit the studio with the band to lay down tracks for our 2nd song. It's still got some tweaking to do, but we're pretty excited about it. I'll try to post a clip when one of the 2 is nailed down. No news of upcoming gigs as of now.

Tonight, I tended to a sick husband. To join his spirit’s solemnity in remembrance of his father’s death 12 years ago today, Jeff’s body took a day of rest. It started as a 103 degree fever and has declined in severity to a bad throat-ache and lots of soup and saltines. Two years into this marriage thing and only a few sicknesses later, I’m still learning whether I’m to coddle him like a mommy or just get the heck out of the way. I think a certain amount of coddling is called for (held in good balance with getting the heck out of the way).

Ode to Peanut Butter.
I started this post with a restaurant review, but I scrapped it because I got distracted trying to get peanut-butter from the roof of my mouth. Nothing says midnight like some toast smothered with peanut butter topped with raisins or dried cranberries. Mmm.

Peanut Butter is a national past time. It’s like baseball…without the steroids. Throughout the world there are wine connoisseurs, coffee snobs and cigar aficionados. I wouldn’t necessarily use any of the above adjectives to describe my relationship with peanut butter. However, based on our sheer consumption, both Jeff and I could use the less admired descriptor, peanut butter addict.

Tonight I indulged in Jif – straight-forward creamy style. While I like the notion of chunky, its just hard to spread and you end up eating lots more I think. For the value I find Jif creamy to be good, spreadable, and much nuttier tasting that generic versions of the same ilk. Hydrogenated oils and other odd additives aside, Jif Creamy is good eating.

The ultimate in my opinion is, Smuckers’ All Natural Creamy. You know the stuff with the big oil pool at the top when you open it. True, I have to work at a new jar with a knife for a good 5 minutes. Its a careful mixing process - combine the oil and peanuts while not spilling the fragrant peanut oil on myself and suddenly smelling like a Chic Fil A cook. I keep a jar of this golden splendor at work, which is probably feeds the habit to have it so handy..oh well. I must note that I have also tried generic brands of Natural Peanut Butter, Publix, Target, Kroger…none compare to Smuckers. The others get dry and crumbly at the bottom of the jar and don’t have the salty, yet nutty sweetness of the Smuckers. It is so rich in flavor in fact, that I probably use less of it than I would of conventional creamy PB.

I missed my Smuckers while in France last fall…but we were not totally deprived of our favorite food/condiment (?). Mississippi Belle Peanut Butter was one brand we discovered in France - the ONLY brand we found in France actually. Who knows how long it sat on the shelves of that Nantes supermarket before we stumbled upon it. After all, the notion of making a spread of cacahuetes is rather revolting to the French. Intestine sausages: A-okay. Peanut spread: Degoutant! Found snuggled in between locally grown honey and Nutella, Mississippi Belle was our comfort food. Great on left-over baguette for breakfast, as a dip for digestives (a favorite cookie of ours that we smuggled from the UK) or just plain by-the-spoonful eating.

Mississippi Belle peanut butter is imported to Europe – chalk up one for US food product exports! Chipping away at our whopping trade deficit one American in Paris at a time. I heard that to object US foreign policy decisions, the French were smearing the streets with Peanut Butter. Mmmm….foreign policy protests.. ;-)

And speaking of protests – check out CNN or the BBC coverage of the massive protests you may or may not have heard about in France. Unrest is alive in well in many French cities, including Nantes,where within the last few days around 40,000 students, teachers and workers have taken to the very streets we walked a few months ago. This is a very critical time for France.

In Closing...
Odd things that Peanut-butter addicts like us combine with peanut butter…

• Jeff – Cottage cheese, honey, peanut butter.
• Jeff ‘s family – Pizza, applesauce and PB
• Katie & Jeff – carrots dipped in PB, bananas n PB, apples n PB, celery w/ PB & raisins...
• Katie – Oatmeal with cream, strawberries, and PB

You may have some favorite brands, other nut spreads or odd combinations with Peanut Butter. Feel free to share.

Restaurant Review and Other Surprises

Once again, you may or may not have been wondering what I've been up to lately. Besides not blogging. Well, truth out...you may not have seen me on the Barbara Walter's special, but I have had a little side project going on.
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1801858/

Somehow between my Thunderbolt Kicks, Jeff and I managed to celebrate our 2 year anniversarry on March 6. It's been 2 amazing years of adventure, love, misunderstandings laughs and lots of Indian food.

Speaking of food...to celebrate our two years as Weavers, Jeff took me to a restaurant that I had heard good things about, but never tried. It turned out to be quite possibly the best meal I've ever had in Atlanta not cooked by my mom.

Rathbuns - American cuisine tucked away in a converted steel mill which lies in the heart of Atlanta's Urban renewal explosion. While countless mills and factories in the area have given way to lofts and condoes, so for the neighborhood's most valuable addition is the brainchild, and namesake of renowned Atlanta chef Kevin Rathbun. He has taken his Buckhead restaurant experience at spots like BluePointe and Nava, and added his own nouveau southern accent to create an outstanding melange of fresh, culinary interplay.

The offerings, both "small plates" and larger entrees are a creative blend of Asian, French, fresh, and tres fatty. But make no mistake, this is a restaurant in the heart of the new south. Sides like country ham grits, creamed corn with gouda and smoked mashed potatoes pay homage to Mr. Rathbun's roots. As did Jeff's entree - Seared Cod and sauteed shrimp over smoked mashed potatoes with slivered almonds and cranberries.

Now, you won't find many a gourmande making cod fancy, but this was an outstanding preparation of no-knife-needed fish, and some of the freshest tasting shrimp I've had in a while. My small plate sampling included Rathbun's signature dish, and his mama's recipe, of Eggplant fries dusted with powdered sugar, served with a brilliantly yin/yang side of tabasco and powdered sugar for dipping. While delighful and different, this was probably my least favorite of the plates. My lamb scaloppini was out of this world, its apricot sauce had fresh mint, bacon and little teaser cubes of goat gouda. Okay, combining the sharpness of chevre with the creamy comfort of gouda..I couldve eaten a block of JUST the cheese.

Perhaps the most surprisingly good small plate were the salmon tostadas. How can a smoked salmon taste THAT fresh - not overly salty, but perfectly smokey with a sunset pink hue that melted in my mouth. Each little chunk was served on a crispy cracker with a habanero creme fresh. An exciting kick on the back end of each bite. I should also note, that the pre-meal bread was the best I've ever had at a restaurant for pure freshness, unique herb flavors and salted-crust taste.

Dessert, briefly, because it was tiny, but just what our stuffed tummies needed - a banana peanut-butter creme pie. Seriously, had one of us happened to get a head-wound or have a digit cut off during dinner...we would have stayed for the pie... It's Jeff's favorite combination of flavors and I'm just a general sucker for sweet things. It was fabulous, and just the right size (they do "small plate" desserts too).

Final libation note: on our waiter's recommendation, we tested a Pinot Noir (2003 Porta, Bio Bio Valley) from surprising Chile and it was outstanding in value and taste. A classic burgundian bite that accompanied our diverse meal selections wonderfully.

Ambience: Very hip, but not pretentious. We saw all types there - business casual folks, hipster friends and elderly couples. High ceilings and textured brick walls make it less intimate than some other options, but we were successfully able to enjoy each other company and conversation... then the food came, all chatter ceased and for the next 30 minutes we gazed lovingly at the food before us and our empty forks... Visit Rathbun's.

Review over. Maybe more to come, if we can think of more anniversarry's to celebrate. Next big event - Jeff's graduation (finally!) from MBA academy. May 2.