AbbyGabs in April

Here we are, a brand new shiny month. This year is flying by already, and I've got so much stuff to look forward to in the coming months. April is a big one, and I thought you might like to know what's coming down the pike for me, my family, and my blog. So here's a peek at the first few weeks of my calendar for this month.

April 1, 2013:
Day one of Camp NaNoWriMo--the online support system for budding writers is at it again, and I'm jumping in with both feet.  And as usual, the 50,000 word count goal in 30 days is plenty enough to get my competitive juices flowing. I've managed to do it twice...and I happened to bang out a my very first novel by participating in NaNo 2011 and 2012.

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The real beauty behind Camp Nano is that, while you can start a brand new project, you're also encouraged to take that thirty days and do pretty much whatever you want to do (involving writing, of course.) Edit a past project, write poetry/blogs/short stories, work on a timeline for your next big idea---the point of Camp NaNo isn't just to write a new work. It's to write. Period. The End. That's All Folks.

I'm really jazzed about Camp, especially since I've not been writing nearly as much lately as I'm used to, and I'm missing it fiercely. So, I'm going to stoke my inner campfire, blow the dust off of my very first novel and edit the crap out of it every single day in April, in hopes that by the time I'm finished, it will be 100% publishable material.

You guys know the drill--I'll still be posting here as regularly as I can manage. I plan to set aside one day a week to write several blogs, and they'll all be scheduled to post while I'm doping up on coffee and popping aspirin to battle my keyboard-hunch back pain. And with you cheering me on, anything is possible! Hi ho, Hi ho, it's off to Camp we go!

April 3, 2013:
Appointment with my OB and fertility specialist.

I'm scared and excited and worried and nauseous and thrilled, all at the same time. We've waited years for this opportunity, and I'm *trying* to be hopeful that we will receive some helpful answers to solve our fertility problems. And since I cried all over you guys a couple of weeks ago in a blog about that very subject, it seemed only natural that I tell you about this latest development in our journey to become parents.

Don't worry, I'll keep you in the loop. Especially if there are hormone replacement drugs involved. Because they make me a little crazy, and more prone to film video blogs involving tears, snot, and smeared mascara. So stay tuned, friends. Stay tuned.


April 7, 2013:
The Inaugural Tournament of the Incredibly Excellent Wii Bowling League.

Yes, you read that correctly.

My ingenious husband finally figured out a way to cram our tiny apartment to the brim with practically every person we know within a thirty-mile radius---and all in the name of bowling. He created a Wii Bowling League, and we are having the first tournament at our house this weekend.

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There will be brackets, bowling-themed food, fierce competition, and trophies. (Yes, he bought trophies. Just like the one pictured above.) It's going to be epic, and we are hoping to turn it into a regular thing. Once we weed out the serious competitors from those more interested in the bowling ball cupcakes (yes, that would be me you're picturing with chocolate crumbs on her chin) we may just invent team names and create bowling shirts (which I will have to beg for, because I'll be the one losing on purpose so I can sit in the kitchen and chat with my friends between turns.) Don't worry, readers...there will be a full blog with pictures after the event. It's going to rock.

Sometime Mid-April:
I'm moving.

Not me, personally, but my blog. 

That's right, I'm making the leap from Blogger to Word Press. 

source--and also not the website I'm using to navigate my move. That's HERE.

It's been a long time coming, and I've been thinking about it, and planning for it, since the beginning of the year. I've finally convinced myself that I can do it without the help of a paid professional (although I'm considering asking my doctor for a prescription in Xanax). With the support of blogger friends who have done it before, a father-in-law who I'm convinced could fix the internet if it was completely broken, and pep talks with some of my favorite Word Press bloggers, I'm ready to make the leap.

If you'd like to send assistance in the form of tequila, email me and I'll send my mailing address.

April 10, 2013:
Abby hosts Dinner Club for the first time.

Back in January, two of our favorite couples contacted us and asked if we'd be interested in joining a dinner club. For those fuzzy on the details, it works like this: the host couple comes up with the theme and provides the entree. Couples two and three are in charge of the appetizer course and the dessert course, respectively. 

Truth: it's a great excuse to get together with our friends not once, but twice, to eat great food, drink great wine, and enjoy each other's company.

Most people, while in the planning stages of this event, would be focused more on coming up with a menu that will be pleasing to the palate, but will allow them to act as hostess and spend more time with their guests.

You read the part above about my "competitive juices" though, right?

I'm feeling very...."Barefoot Contessa" about our first club where I'm in charge of the culinary experience. As in...I have to rock this, and rock it hard.

Abby rockin' the kitchen, circa 2010.

I'm not looking to intimidate our friends and make them worry about the contents of their spice racks before the next dinner...much. I'm just looking for everything to be so awesome that we're still talking about "that first dinner club at Abby's house" five years from now.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm holding out hope for a gold ribbon of cooking genius. 

So that's what's going on with me, friends and neighbors. No huge announcements, just lots of little stuff to look forward to. What's going on in your neck of the woods? (Be forewarned: if it sounds like a good time I might just crash your party.)

A Blog About Food

I like food. A lot. I like food like a fat kid likes cake.


Oh, wait. I like cake.


So, let's try a classic SAT analogy.


Abby is to Tacos as Lion is to Zebra Meat.





(I dare you to watch this and then walk around NOT singing it for 2 weeks. Good luck.)


I often give the Food Network credit for my ability to create delicious, beautiful dishes (that I often take pictures of with my Droid. And yes, I'm about to share those pictures here.)

Asparagus and sweet pea pasta with crispy chicken and bacon-seared Brussels sprouts.

Every Sunday, my Dad and I put our heads together and strive to create a dish worthy of my Mom's approval. We peruse cook books, we talk about what we saw on the Food Network that week, and we discuss dishes we've been inspired to try or create. We drive gleefully to the grocery store, and though we try not to skip down the aisles, we often fail. We'll spend copious amounts of time choosing just the right ingredients--squeezing tomatoes, thumping melons, smelling herbs--until our cart is filled with our bounty. We delight again in each item purchased as we unload our grocery bags into the refrigerator. And then we tie our apron strings, bring out our chef knives, and get to work.

Grilled herb pork loin with roasted asparagus and garlic and herb new potatoes.

My husband often jokes that, on holidays, he's full before we sit down to dinner because either Dad or I are constantly searching him out, spoon in hand, "taste this gravy," "taste this sauce," "taste the turkey." My Dad and I are nothing if not passionate about food. We groan over perfectly seasoned potatoes, swoon over the smell of basil, and celebrate when we pair dinner with the perfect bottle of wine. (Seriously, nothing gets us going quite like the smell of fresh herbs. Except for a glass of exceptional wine.)

Salami and smoked gouda crostinis with peach bellinis.

Only recently have I started taking pictures of our Sunday creations. But it has become such a habit that, just this last weekend, as we sat down to dinner and I started plowing into my perfectly-prepared food, my Dad looked at me and asked, "Aren't you going to take a picture first?" He likes for me to post them to Facebook so he can go back and comment on the meal we put together.

Shepherd's Pie with Guinness Gravy and summer salad.

What it boils down to is this: we love food so much, we don't just like to eat it. We like to talk about it, dissect it down to its purest form, take pictures of it, and share it with our friends.


Also, don't think I missed the food cliche. It was done with purpose.

The Evolution of My Chef-Like Self

The year: 2001. The place: my first apartment. The occasion: my first "dinner party."

The telephone conversation went something like this:

Dad: "Hello?"

Abby: "Hi Daddy! Whatcha doin?"

Dad: "Oh, just sitting here watching the game. State's down by 8. What's my little girl doing today?"

Abby: "Well, I'm having some people over to see the apartment, and I'm going to fix them dinner."

Dad: Silence.

Abby: "What? I can totally do it."

Dad: Silence.

Abby: "Dad, c'mon. I'm a smart kid. I can do it. I just need your help."

Dad: "I don't think I can be there before your guests arrive."

Abby: "I don't want to you to come cook! I want you to answer some basic cooking questions for me."

Dad: "Ok, shoot."

Abby: "Ok. So, I'm making spaghetti. My first question is, how do I cook the noodles?"

I'm hoping that this conversation will illustrate to you, dear reader, just how inadequate I was in the kitchen. I could slap together a PBJ with the best of them. And I made a mean Pop-Tart. But other than that---no knowledge at ALL.

That first pot of spaghetti was probably horrible. I honestly don't remember. I was so proud of my accomplishment, of having my first dinner party, that it could've tasted horrible and I just wouldn't remember.

Fast forward a few months, when I started dating my husband. Now here was a man who was self-sufficient. Earlier in our friendship, when we were all still living in the dormitories at Appalachian State University, B had made an entire lasagna dinner for his friends. Lasagna--from scratch. Big tossed salad with fresh veggies. Garlic bread that was to-die-for. Shortly after we began courting, B started teaching me a thing or two in the kitchen. Methods of cooking, a few fail proof recipes, how to grill a steak. It was like a light switch went off in my head.

By the time we moved into together, my curiosity about cooking increased. We now had the Food Network, and I would watch Emeril, Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, and Bobby Flay for HOURS. I started buying cook books, and experimenting in the kitchen.

By the time we moved to Charleston, I had most of the basics down. I could follow a recipe easily enough, and most of the time, they would turn out how I expected. Certainly, there were mishaps (please don't ever ask about the peach pie incident, unless you want to make me cry), but I felt that I was making progress.

I got my first real chef's knife as a wedding gift in 2004. After that, the sky was the limit.

I can saute, grill, pan-sear and roast with the best of them. I can see a recipe that sounds sort of interesting and make it my own. I can wow the taste buds of my husband, my family, and my friends. I can bake cupcakes, birthday cakes, and the best damn Christmas cookies you ever put in your face.

Abby--Official Foodie and Apron-Wearer

And I honestly, truly love it. 

I spend every Sunday with my Mom and Dad. And it's my favorite day of the week. Dad and I start planning dinner while we're still eating breakfast. We shop together, carefully choosing the perfect ingredients, squeezing tomatoes and smelling basil and buying only the choicest fish. We chop together, season together, inhale the wonderful aromas together, taste sauces together. And revel in our success when the dish makes my Mom say, "Yum."

And I owe it all to my hubby, and my teachers at the Food Network. Because truly, I learned everything from knife skills to cooking techniques from that channel. It was like culinary school, from the comfort of my own home.

Thanks to the best teachers, ever.

My next step in taking over the world of food---growing my own garden. And making gazpacho from my own veggies. Move over, Barefoot Contessa, Abby's moving in.