Life in Chicago

Interlude

Greg and I have been in Boulder for the last couple of days. I wrote yesterday's post from the desk of our lovely room at the St. Julien Hotel and Spa where I am writing from again right now.

I'm here working a story about Chef Jason Rogers who is the man behind St. Julien's Jill's restaurant and who also happens to be an avid mountain biker. During the summer he offers a mountain biking and bbq package in which he takes guests out for a bike ride and then back to the hotel where he makes them a fabulous bbq dinner based on their preferences.

As you can imagine, Sunday afternoon found me and Greg on mountain bikes on nearby Betasso Preserve trying out our first time skills on the single track Canyon Loop Trail. Needless to say, within ten minutes I was sprawled in a ditch, my bike on its side, a big scrape beading up with blood on my left leg. Laughing from my position in the ditch, I called for Greg to take a photo (coming soon). Mountain biking turned out to be wildly challenging but overall it was definitely a fun experience.

After making it around the 3 mile loop without anymore mishaps and with a couple of deer sightings, we flew down the paved road back to Boulder, the mountain vistas dipping and rising before us as we rounded each curve and then crossed over to ride alongside Boulder Creek. It was just beautiful and it was the perfect way to get me out of my head and all that is going on these days, if even for a couple of days.

The rest of our trip has been spent at the mercy of Chef Rogers who has made us one incredible meal after another. I don't think I've ever eaten so well in a two day time span. Highlights include heirloom tomatoes with spearmint, arugula, pine nuts and served alongside a burrata cheese calzone. Also unbelievable, from last night's zero-carbon vegetarian dinner, were homemade ravioli with aged goat cheese from Oregon paired with a Barbera D'Alba Mauro Molino. Trout ceviche, duck confit, Adobo-rubbed steak and leg of lamb have also delightfully crossed my palate in the last 48 hours.

I've experienced several moments on this trip where I knew that if my parents could see me, they just couldn't be happier. Me, sitting across from the most wonderful man whom I will marry in 10 days, eating some of the most wonderful food in an incredibly beautiful setting and about to return home to a fantastic life in Chicago with a meaningful job and lovely home and a future that is continuously unspooling itself in the best ways possible.

I'm very appreciative of my life right now.

Okay...off to catch a flight home. More soon, including photos of me on a mountain bike!

Comfort Food

Yesterday, for an article I'm working on, I did something called "Shop with the Chef" with Brad Parsons from Aria.

Myself and three others spent the morning accompanying Executive Chef Parsons to the Chicago Green City Farmers Market. The vast majority of produce at Green City is organic and on a brisk, bright Wednesday morning, tent flaps slapping in the breeze, moms pushing strollers, the smell of fresh rhubarb fresh in the air, I could think of no other place I'd rather be.

We followed Chef around to the various stands as he pointed out some of his favorite fresh, seasonal ingredients and chatted with the friendly vendors.  We sampled goat cheese and arugula, rhubarb compote and micro-cilantro.

After shopping we returned to Aria where Chef served us a lunch based on ingredients he purchased at the market -- scrambled eggs with black truffle oil and green garlic, a heavenly cream of mushroom soup and wild Scottish salmon served over a bed of asparagus risotto and some of the deepest-tasting morels I've had in a long time. Suffice it to say, it was incredible.

I was happy all day. There is little else I like better in this world than food. I can talk about food for hours. I gladly plan menus for an entire week at home. I keep a food diary and I page through cookbooks and cooking magazine on a regular basis. Getting to sit next to a chef through a meal that he created and that we watched him shop for was just dreamy.

I thought a lot about my mom yesterday. She is the reason I love food so much. My upbringing was steeped in languid nights spent at the dinner table, in the aromas that drifted out of her constantly operating kitchen, in the tastes that flooded my mouth on a daily basis. Although I may have been naturally drawn to food, I don't think I would love food like I do, were it not for her.

Last night I co-facilitated a Loss of Parent group again at work and I throughout I was thinking about the ways we keep our lost loved ones present in our lives. This love of food is my way of doing that.

(Also, we've got a new post up at She Wrote, He Wrote.)

Growing Up

My Aunt Pam and Uncle David are coming to visit this weekend -- they arrive tomorrow (well hopefully, if American doesn't cancel their flight).

I've been busy all week getting the house ready and planning out fun activities for their visit.

I've menu-planned all the breakfasts/lunches/dinners (re: poblano cheddar quiches, vegetable lasagna, blueberry, cream cheese-stuffed French toast, Cajun skewered shrimp with Fettucine Alfredo, the individual chocolate molten cakes) and picked out a couple of cute places to dine out.

We're going to see a play, we're going to the museum, we're going to the top of Greg's office building with the amazing views of Chicago, we're going to tour the Ebony Magazine office where Pam worked 40 years ago as one of only 3 white employees (thanks, Greg, for getting the ball rolling on that), we're having Greg's sister, niece and brother-in-law over for dinner, and I even scored last minute tickets to a taping of Gayle King's show in Oprah's studio.

I'd accomplished all this by the time Greg got home from work last night and, although I initially felt really good about the fun plans I made, by the time we got to the gym I felt heavy and sad and couldn't quite figure out why. All through our workout I stared off into space, lifting the weights Greg handed me mechanically and thinking about how long it would be before I could just go to bed.

Finally, walking to the car, I tried to talk about how I was feeling, at first not really knowing why I felt so sad, but then as the tears started to stream down my cheeks, the words came out with them: I wish it were my parents coming to visit this weekend. Greg was sweet and let me cry. He asked me if we'd be doing different things and I tried to imagine what it would be like if my parents were coming to visit me...and I couldn't. I just couldn't really imagine it.

The last time my mother visited me I was 18. It was my freshman semester of college and parent's weekend. She stayed in a hotel off campus and I showed her around the dorms and the dining hall...all those sweet, young things you do at that age. I can hardly imagine what it would be like to actually have her come to visit me now, to stay in our guest room, to meet Greg, to sit at our dining room table and eat a meal that I've cooked myself. I can hardly imagine.

And my Dad...the last time he visited me was for my 20th birthday in New York. He slowly made his way up to my tiny, fourth floor walk-up apartment and then we went to Peter Luger for dinner. I wore a pale lavender dress. It was Spring in New York.

All of this was easier when I was alone. Now that I'm creating this life and home with Greg I wish so much that they could be here, that they could meet this wonderful man I've fallen in love with, and see me in my life as the woman I've become.

And all of that said, I'm so grateful to have Pam & David in my life. They are both wonderful and love me so much and it will be so nice to have them here in our home. And while I was writing this post, Pam emailed to say that their flight hasn't been canceled tomorrow...so here's to a lovely weekend to come.