Tag Archives: memories

australia 2012, part 1: manly beach + sydney

Posted on May 13, 2013 | 1 Comment

australia 2012 - manly beach and sidney

So it’s May (of 2013!)….and way back in January I posted a few snapshots of the two-week trip we took to Australia in December (of 2012!), and promised to have some ‘real’ pictures and perspective of fourteen days traipsing around in the Southern Hemisphere up on le blog in short order.  Naturally, I lost track of time (read: procrastinated combing through the over 1200 pictures taking up real estate on my memory card), and the looming task of digging through the monstrous digital photo roll that encompassed our totally rad days “Down Under” got the best of me.  I don’t know how it is that it took me five whole months, but it was actually hugely entertaining to spend a cloudy and overcast day here scrolling through shots of cerulean blue seas and remembering *exactly why* I wore stretchy leggings for the plane ride home after recalling the obscene amount of delicious food I managed to consume in fourteen days.

But I’ll make myself feel better by living out that old adage – better late than never.  Australia.  In short: Australia is, to date, the most enigmatic place I’ve ever visited – and I barely, barely scratched the surface while there.  Imagine if someone told you they were coming to visit the United States for fourteen days; obviously, they would barely even get a taste of what this country is all about.  They’d see a couple of big cities (probably New York, or LA), spend lots of time flying/driving/training/schlepping, and in the end leave with an idea of what went on in the big old U.S.of A….but there’s just no way they would have fully seen it all.  And attempting to ‘do’ Australia in just two short weeks is nearly impossible; it is a massive country.  As perspective: Australia encompasses nearly 3 million square miles of land, which is just slightly smaller than the US’s 3.7 million square mile share.  By comparison, however, Australia only has 22 million people living there – just 7% of the 314 million we have living on US soil.  A good bit of Australia – the world’s smallest continent, but her 6th largest country – is uninhabitable.  Harsh desert land covers 18% of that square milage, located mostly in the center of the country; so much so that 80% of Aussies live within 100km (62 miles!) of the coastline.  The only country that is also a continent, it is a host to incredibly varied terrain: along with those blisteringly hot deserts come craggy and beautiful beaches, stunning ancient rock formations, bustling metropolitan centers, and snow capped mountains.  But enough of the geeky stats.  Clearly, I was not going travel a land mass nearly the size of America in two weeks, and having learned from some past experiences  that trying to cram ALLTHETHINGS into what really isn’t that much time is utterly exhausting, we decided to focus our efforts on seeing four destinations: Manly Beach, Sydney, the Mornington Peninsula, and, finally, Melbourne.

{but wait! there’s more….and pictures!}

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Posted in 2012, vacation

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instasurprise!: a getaway surprise weekend to telluride + dunton hot springs, co

Posted on October 9, 2012 | 8 Comments

{the view flying up over the san juans}

Even though our anniversary technically happened a week ago, I’ve never been one  to try and rush through life’s little celebrations, and I was giddy with excitement after being instructed by James to pack a bag for a ‘surprise weekend getaway’ to fete our one-whole-year milestone together.  Since no man in his right mind would tell a girl to pack ‘a bag’ without first mentioning that aforementioned bag must conform to the airlines current draconian space and size rules, I assumed that we would be packing up and heading somewhere close; perhaps to a nearby mountain town, or even (excitedly) back to Aspen, where we celebrated our ‘minimoon’ exactly one year ago.  So you can imagine my surprise when we turned off I-70 and hurtled towards Denver International Airport; not only was I mentally tallying through the narrow scope of places where I would need a ‘swimsuit, a pair of shorts, a down jacket, and comfy shoes,’ but also having visions of the TSA agents tossing my most definitely over-three-ounce bottles of perfume and tinted moisturizer.  (Isn’t that just the worst?)

James hurriedly whispered a few words to the agent before I reached the podium, and wearing a huge grin on his face, he watched as she handed me a boarding pass with the code TEX emblazoned on the front.  Telluride.  My favorite place in Colorado, and, quite possibly, on the planet.  (I first fell in love here.)  He told me that even though I knew where we were going, I didn’t quite yet know — and that was the truth.  After landing on a precariously balanced mountaintop landing strip we strolled through the idyllic town and had lunch – but that was it.  Back into the car we went, and drove through meandering miles of golden aspen trees and dirt roads until we hit a little town called Dunton.

We almost breezed right past the tiny old mining town, but instead jerked off the dirt road and down a barely manicured path.  As we pulled into what had looked like a desolate group of old Western shacks, I realized that we were, in fact, somewhere very special.  An old ghost town that has been purchased and renovated into a luxury ‘camp’ complete with it’s own natural hot springs, Dunton  Hot Springs is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.  We spent two nights and three full days basking in the warm morning sunshine, soaking in the mineral laden tubs, reading books in a fire-light library, and gathering round the dinner table with new friends.  It was an incredible experience at a Colorado resort that I cannot stress how much I recommend – and I’ve got plenty of photos and notes to share with you later.  For now, here are a few glimpses into what was definitely one of my most memorable weekends in Colorado, to date.

{the landing strip at telluride airport – perched on a cliff}

{the best surprise boarding pass}

{laces for the road}

{back in my favorite place, gazing east towards bridal veil falls in telluride}

{stopping in for a quick pint of hoppy suds at a friends brewery}

{arriving at dunton hot springs}

{a true ghost town}

{but wait! there’s more…}

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Posted in 2012, i said yes!, life, weekends

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the perfect august evening: a farm dinner by blackbelly catering at isabelle farm

Posted on August 15, 2012 | 9 Comments

When I first saw an email for this dinner  - a farm-to-table affair hosted by Blackbelly Catering at Isabelle Farm – pop into my inbox, I knew I wanted to secure a couple of seats right away.  It was a complete no-brainer, being that this special night would combine some of my favorite things into one neatly wrapped little dinner package: a farm whose produce I eagerly snap up every Saturday at the Boulder Farmer’s Market, a dinner that would embody the local and farm-to-table ethics I believe in and aspire to maintain, a menu that had me absolutely salivating for weeks, and, to boot, all of it pulled together by a chef who I’d rooted for throughout season five of Top Chef, Hosea Rosenberg.  And all of these things happening on a perfect mid-August night just twenty minutes from my doorstep?  Jackpot.

Last Saturday evening, we were dressed and ready for the night early, as there was a farm tour slated at 4:30 PM, an hour before the dinner was to kick off.  I was nearly out the door in a pair of wedges before smartening up, and reached for a more ‘farm friendly’ pair of hay-tromping flats – and I’m so glad my surely-much-smaller-rational-fashion side prevailed. (Apparently the heeled NY’er in me isn’t dead just yet.)  We were warmly welcomed to the farm by the sweet Marketing and Events Director of Blackbelly, Karen, who was clad in an adorable polka dot dress and was effortlessly put together and totally serene – even though she was at the helm of organizing and directing a dinner for over forty people out in the middle of a field amongst tractors and barns.  After greeting us, she quickly had us situated with mason jars full of tart lemonade and a couple of seats under a white tent illuminated with twinkling lights.  As we walked closer to the immaculately maintained fields, we were introduced to Jason Condon, who runs the farm alongside his wife Natalie.  With his sweet and spunky daughter Lucy close by and his cute black dog running circles around our ankles, Jason began to give us some background about the farm, the practice of organic farming, and the eighty varietals that grow on their seventy-acre property.

We plodded through the troughs that lay between the different vegetables, and Jason pointed out expansive rows of eggplant, okra, peppers, sweet corn, and melons.  He gave a synopsis of each vegetable and how and when it was planted, the difficulties associated with maintaining and growing the crop, and the various trials and tribulations involved with harvesting.  I learned that watermelon is notoriously hard to pinpoint when ripe; so much so, in fact, that there is only one lady on the entire farm allowed to pick them – as everyone else’s track record is abysmal, and their attempts amount to watery, pale, and decidedly unripe specimens.  I knelt over and ran my fingers over the velvety vine of one of the huge stripy-green orbs, and inhaled deeply as we passed over dirt that still felt moist underfoot.  There is a definite primal feeling that one gets when standing on soil that has the ability to thrust forth perfect naturally cultivated versions of simple food, and I was incredibly impressed with the entire operation.  The manual labor involved with running an organic farm is staggering, and I know even from attempting to keep my tiny 5 x 10 ‘organic’ home-veggie-patch pest free and generally happy looking is an everyday challenge.  (Farmer Jason would surely be unimpressed by my unruly tomato plants and scraggy broccoli crowns, but I hope I’d get credit for giving it the old college try.)  Here, rows of brilliant and shiny purple eggplant peeked shyly out from under broad leaves, okra rose triumphantly towards the sun in fat green spikes, and the sweet corn (which actually won’t even return more than a few pennies to the Condon family, but which they grow for “fun”) stood much taller than my head, and waved in the warm late-Summer breeze, cutting an undulating golden silhouette against the looming Rockies.

As we walked back over to the tent, we were greeted with flutes of chilly Prosecco, which was the perfect beverage to accompany the gorgeous appetizers that were soon whisked over from the nearby kitchen tents.  Balanced gracefully on long and slender wine barrel staves, the small bites were delicious: plump grapes enrobed in salty goat cheese and dribbled with truffle oil, flash fried shishito peppers smattered with flakey sea salt, tender beef carpaccio wrapped around tomato confit, farm fresh peaches enrobed in sheets of melting lardo, melon and tomato bites with feta, and, my favorite, creamy little parcels of sweet corn custard wrapped in thinly sliced and salty coppa.  I must have indulged in at least three of each, and had to be repeatedly reminded by one more level-headed better-half that there was an appetite that needed saving for the impending full five course meal.

We settled in for dinner underneath the tent, and it was apparent that no detail had gone unnoticed in the intimate setting.  Small clothespins fastened menus to freshly pressed napkins, mason jars held water for drinking between sips of the wine tasting, and gorgeous rustic bouquets dotted the long farm-style tables.  We started off with a chilled corn soup, accented by a piece of flaky smoked trout, and a dollop of basil pesto and smear of huitlacoche, or “corn smut.”  This offensive sounding thing actually turned out to be delicious, as the ‘smut’ refers to a type of mushroom that grows on the corn stalks and is savory and earthy in flavor.  The soup was divine – perfectly chilled and fresh tasting, with just enough texture from the garnishes to be interesting and fun.  After soup, it was on to a delicious charred Summer vegetable salad, full of grilled produce, studded with pepitas, and enrobed in a scallion vinaigrette.  Next came a refreshing cantaloupe granita to cleanse our veggie-sated palates, and ready us for what stood out to be Blackbelly and Chef Hosea’s proudest dish: a nose-to-tail tasting of their home-raised Berkshire Pork.  We were treated to a dish that utilized ten different parts of the pig – pigs that were all hand-raised at Karen’s house just a few miles away.  There was tender belly, croquettes made with the trotter, and a sweet square of tete de cochon.  There were other thoughtfully arranged parts of the animal that all came together under an umbrella of flavors influenced by New Orleans, and the entire plate was fabulous, well crafted, and lovingly presented.  Just as we were moving on to the fourth savory course, fat raindrops started to weasel their way out of the dark clouds that had swooshed out and over our heads from seemingly nowhere, but in the end the plates were served seamlessly by the wonderful staff braving whippy winds and sideways rainfall.  We tucked in to a plate of rare-cooked lamb (accented with a few mountain raindrops) that was set atop a tomato tartlette, and we hunkered down and scooched in tight.  Rounds of “you know they say in Colorado ‘if you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes….’” could be heard throughout the tent, and before we had even put our forks down there was a (double!) rainbow in the sky, and the sun had started to fade into a technicolor display of red, burnt orange, and fiery yellow.

Glasses of dessert wine were poured, and just as I was groaning that Icouldn’tpossiblytakeanotherbite, a dish of grilled poundcake, Colorado peaches, mascarpone gelato, and fresh honey comb was plunked down in front of me – and, of course, I somehow managed.  The gelato was creamy and plush, and was a perfect foil for the sweet peaches, crisp tinged pound cake, and sticky honeycomb.  After dinner, I took a few minutes to chat with Hosea and thank him for such an incredible meal, and he was incredibly easy going, talkative, and very humble – though it’s clear that he has something really special in the works.  I had a few moments to catch up with Karen’s husband, a photographer named Mark, who was equally gracious, kind, and helpful.  The evening was so well curated, and the food — unbeatable; it was truly a special night in Colorado that I am very thankful I was able to experience.  Both Isabelle Farm and Blackbelly Catering are true inspirations for me, as a fledgling chef and gardener, and I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening then experiencing a marriage of the two in a beautiful setting that not even these photographs can truly capture.

{walking up to the farm}

{but wait! there’s more…and lots of pictures!}

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Posted in 2012, life

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completely enamored: telluride bluegrass festival, and falling head over heels

Posted on June 26, 2012 | 67 Comments

I completely fell head over heels in love this weekend, for a beautiful little mountain town that sits 8,750 feet above sea level in a steep-walled box canyon that is surrounded by looming cliffs and lush forested mountains.  If Boulder was a one-hundred-and-eighty degree change from New York City, then Telluride might as well be on another planet all-together; with just about twenty-two-hundred people calling Telluride home, at any given time the number of people roaming the aisles at Saks Fifth Avenue would surely give the town a run for its money (New York City clocks in at 69,000 packed into one square mile, which is hard to even fathom after a weekend with the ultimate amount of elbow room).     The old silver mining town is nestled in the San Juan Mountain Range, which runs very steep and extremely high, giving the range a jagged and sharp appearance as it rises out of the distance to meet you as you travel West and then South on winding country highways that take you through cavernous mountain tunnels, up and over rivers, and around sharp bends that will turn your knuckles white.

Colorado is a massive state, and the drive from Boulder to Telluride clocked in as we had forecast, at about seven-hours.  We arrived just as the sun had set, and as we settled into a condo in Mountain Village that our dear friends and their parents had graciously invited us to stay in, I had really no idea what to expect the next morning from only seeing the darkened vistas around us.  We awoke to Colorado’s signature bluebird skies, and scrambled to shower and dress for a full day at the festival.  The Telluride Bluegrass Festival is impressively in it’s 39th year, and is an extremely laid back and family friendly four day music festival that features artists playing music on the main stage all day for the full four days, smaller concerts in the nearby Elk Park, and a full ‘Nightgrass’ schedule with big artists playing late-night shows in intimate venues.

To get from Mountain Village to the center of town, we had to board a gondola that was to take us up over a high peak and then descend down steeply directly into town.  As we peaked up over the top of what in the Winter is a ski mountain, I was treated to the most incredible view of the idyllic town: Victorian style houses tightly arranged in a cross-hatch pattern surrounded by trees and mountains, making up what is one of the most notoriously beautiful towns in Colorado.  A river bubbled along the edge of town, and there were various parks dotted with a technicolor rainbow of tents, tarps, and brightly colored camping gear.  I hopped off the gondola as it twirled around the bend, and walked out into the sunshine to hear the gentle sound of a mandolin in the near distance, and the twangy voices of a band playing on a nearby grassy knoll.  Though I have been a city girl for many years now, my heart will always belong to country music, and the full excitement of a few days full of bluegrass music, good beer, and the company of some of our best friends hit me all at once.

It is hard to describe this town; its one that is all at once exclusive yet at the same time true to its roots, genuine, and low-key.  The houses, though I know for a fact will run you a pretty penny (which I can confirm after picking up multiple real estate magazines and presenting them to James with the biggest and most innocent looking smile I could muster plastered across my face), however they are not ostentatious in the least.  Though I know the interiors of most of them are probably very well designed, not one had the McMansion-y feel that you find so often at other ski resorts.  Most were in a quiet and quaint Victorian style, with steeply pitched roofs and details like molding, scrolling, and front porches.  For any other monstrosity to be taking up real estate next to one of these charmers would look terribly out of turn, and I got a true feeling of quality over quantity as I strolled around the neighborhoods.  One other thing that sets this town apart are the growth constraints that have been placed on its parameters; the town currently sprawls as far West, East, North, and South as it ever will be allowed to, and though it keeps real estate prices high and lends a bit of an exclusive air, it first and foremost preserves the integrity of the town and provides security for its year round residents.

The ‘main street’ in town is called Colorado Avenue, and it cuts all the way through town, running West to East.  The street is dotted by incredible boutiques, restaurants, saloons, music venues, athletic gear shops, bars, and specialty purveyors – essentially, it is a shopping nirvana that is just the right size.  The side streets hold other surprises, such as a “Free Box,” which is a leave-one-or-take-one place of sorts that town residents can place items they no longer want for others to take.  Instead of taking on a scrambled and messy appearance, the box is separated into categories, and there were people standing on the sidewalk thumbing through books, checking out cool vintage t-shirts, or dropping off children’s ski clothes that presumably no longer fit their little mogul racers.  I popped into boutiques and swooned over the unique finds, and found myself leaving with a new necklace, pair of earrings (to wear this weekend to a wedding), and a cowboy hat that would help to keep the searing rays  off my face during the festival.

Inside the festival was organized chaos, at its absolute best.  Despite the fact that this was a music festival and people were there to enjoy themselves, kick back, and relax, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm and very well structured.  Children were allowed entrance for free, and there were thousands of them running around with squirt guns and chocolate ice cream grins, ready to hit you in the legs with an actually welcomed cool stream of water on this very warm day.  Everyone was in such a great mood, and was so respectful of each other’s space; with most large events, you generally witness a few scuffles, or the errant concert-goer who has indulged a bit too much and needs to be carted off, but this event was thankfully very different.  It was understood that everyone was there to have some peaceful fun and enjoy the music, and every single person I met was exceedingly friendly and talkative, and not once was there an incident that made the atmosphere uncomfortable.

We spent our days kicked back in camp chairs, enjoying beers from New Belgium Brewery (my favorite was a brew specially crafted for the event – the light Summer Solstice), snacking on food from one of the many food tents (gyros, fish tacos, and steak sandwiches were clear favorites), and listening to some amazing music.  The artists came on stage for about 90 minutes at a time, and there would be twenty minute lags that were perfect for dashing into town, meeting with friends posted up on the other side of the park, or grabbing a corn dog (I admit it….they are just too good!).  The days were long and they were sunny – with the exception of Saturday, which was a bit hazy due to a wildfire that sadly had started to burn that morning six miles away (which, on another note, brought the number of wildfires ravaging our forests here in Colorado tragically up to eight). Despite the haze and faint smell of smoke, the views were still bright, blue, and magnificent.

I have never been anywhere like Telluride, and I was smitten from the moment I stepped off the gondola.  The air is crisp and fresh, and as you draw it into your lungs and catch sight of Bridal Falls twinkling over the side of the end of the box canyon, you literally feel like you are in a fairy tale.  Despite being known as a ski town (and one that I absolutely cannot wait to make the pilgrimage back to this Winter), I can’t imagine there ever being a bad time to be here; there are hiking and biking trails, tubing excursions on the river, and kayaking trips for the warmer months, and climbers flock here to take advantage of the many steep mountains.  Hang gliding and gliding are both popular, and the weather, as with most of Colorado, is abundantly sunny, clear, and dry.

There were a few moments I was reduced to tears by the beauty, purity, and unique character of this town, and though I surely could not even begin to catch it on film, here are a few snapshots of one of the most beautiful places in all of Colorado – if not the world.

{the view from our condo in mountain village}

{gondola station}

{looking up a chairlift}

{and at the gondola we are about to board}

{good in winter, great in summer}

{a high point: dropping into town via the gondola}

{in great company}

{walking through town}

{ski town}

{quaint streets}

{lined with shops, restaurants, and the friendliest locals ever}

{town park}

{stunning contrasts of greens and blues}

{posting up for some tunes}

{but wait! there’s more…}

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Posted in 2012, life, vacation, weekends

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a fun surprise, for a friday: our wedding featured on the cover of washingtonian bride & groom magazine!

Posted on June 15, 2012 | 14 Comments

When I got an email yesterday from my wedding photographer saying that she had a surprise for me, I had zero idea of what to expect.  Katie Merkle, who is the fabulously talented photographer behind Merkle Photography,  then sent me back an email with a picture labeled “from the editor’s desk” – with the above picture attached, of James and I on the cover of the Washingtonian Brides & Grooms Magazine!

She also let me know that our wedding was featured today on my favorite wedding blog, Style Me Pretty – you can see the whole post with pictures (and an extended photo gallery) here!

Katie had posted a link with pictures of our day after the wedding back in October 2011, and these two things (coincidentally on the same day!) were such a fun surprise to bring us back to all of the happiness we had that day together and with our friends and families, just over eight months ago.

A perfect way to kick off the weekend, I think!

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Posted in 2012, i said yes!, life, weekends

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