I’m back. I’m sunburned. I’m still hungover from one too many tequila shots at Cabo Wabo. And because I have been habitating at a swim-up bar instead of my cozy kitchen, I have no recipes to share with you. There’s nothing occupying my mind but a sunny beach, a tepid infinity pool, sand in places where sand should never be, and a list of things I loved and loathed about a little town south of the border.
I loved, and will forever be indebted to:
- Road sodas.
- Golf cart sodas.
- Taxi cab sodas.
- Pool sodas.
- Ocean sodas.
- How all my Spanish vocabulary came back to me after imbibing all of these “sodas.”
- Food smothered in melted cheese.
- Pepto Bismol.
- Fresh, fresher-than-fresh, freshity-fresh seafood.
- Chicklet kids.
- 80 degrees in the shade.
- Swim-up bars.
- Miami Vices.
- Celebrity sitings (especially of the D-list variety).
- Celebrity look-alike sitings (especially of the D-list variety).
- My tan. And the way it makes me look 5 pounds thinner, if you don’t look at the parts that look more like a tomato than a human.
I loathed, and have purchased voodoo dolls to torture:
- Cab drivers drinking road sodas.
- No functioning seat belts in any vehicle, especially vehicles being driven by cab drivers drinking road sodas.
- Frat boys. And their hangers-on.
- Old fisherman who think they are frat boys. And their hangers-on (body odor, logo hats, pickup lines from 1976).
- Food covered in melted Velveeta.
- Very un-fresh seafood.
- Chicklets kids who tried to steal my wallet.
- 95 degrees in the shade.
- Bargaining for the price of water. Bargaining for the price of sunscreen. Bargaining for the price of beer. Bargaining for the price I can pay you to get you out of my face with your cases full of crap.
- My painful sunburn.
- That last tequila shot. It was a doosey.
I’m off to sort through pictures, spend about a year kissing little bear and Husband, and get cooking in the kitchen. I’ll be back at you soon with some brand new posts that will make you very, very hungry for Mexican food.
Hasta mañana, mis amigos fabulosos.
Husband’s birthday is this weekend. We’re having a shindig at our place, full of family and friends and wine and cake. People. Are. Coming. To. My. Messy. Messy. House.
So, in order to distract myself from the looming errands, prep cooking, vacuuming and generally making this place not entirely frightening for company, I’ve been going through the photos from our trip—the ones that don’t involve cookies, cupcakes and carrot cake, that is. So while I’m at it, I thought I’d share a few with you.
This gorgeous little stretch of Highway 24 was on the way home from the skiing part of our vacation, on our way from Breckenridge back to Colorado Springs. It was serene. It was beautiful. It was nothing like…
…the drive there. This photo was taken during a 60 second period during which my fingernails retracted from Husband’s knee. When I saw the “Icy Road” sign, I believe I said something like, “no s#$%, Sherlock,” snapped a photo, and then burrowed my nails back into his skin.
RDG is not built for this type o climate. My heart can’t handle the car rides.
I seriously hope I never have to be in a vehicle that actually needs to use one of these things.
Something tells me that if I “lost” my brakes, the last thing that would come instinctually would be to stay on the freaking highway.
We finally, finally, arrived at our destination. At this point, I was carsick, freaked as all get-out about the ice gliding under our tires, and soooo in need of a margarita.
I was consoled by the fact that Breckenridge is a cute dang town. Snowy, festive, and…
…did I mention cute? This house makes me want to curl up by a roaring fire with a cup of tea. Spiked with bourbon.
Who am I kidding? I would probably spend all day dancing around my house singing songs about how cute my dang house is.
Speaking of cute, have you ever seen a cuter Starbucks? I don’t normally do the ‘Bucks (no offense to my pals who work at corporate), but this cute-as-a-button little yellow location almost made me want a mocha.
Our hotel (well, Ma and Dad-in-law’s timeshare) was right up this road. See that light at the top of the peak in the background? That’s a Cat, my friends. Could you imagine driving one of those things over a deserted snowy mountain in the dark? Freaky. And not in a silly way.
The next day, I was so dang excited to hit the slopes. I hadn’t skied in two seasons, since last year I was eight months pregnant at the time and would have collapsed the chairlift had I tried to ride it. Plus I was busy, you know, sleeping and eating every cake in sight.
It was cold (-12 windchill), and I wasn’t feeling great, so we skied a half day and went back after lunch. Nothing could stop me, I told myself, from tearing up the slopes the next day, all day long, when I would be more acclimatized and my legs would be stronger.
Nothing, that is, except strep throat, which landed me in the hospital two days later. On my vacation. In the ER at a skiing destination where they don’t know how do do anything except cast broken legs. Luckily, the doc hooked me up with a hefty dose of antibiotics and I spent the next few days watching movies in the hotel room.
By friday, I was good to go. It was the last day on the slopes, and I wanted, nay–needed–to ski that entire mountain.
And oh, was it everything I thought it would be. The sun was shining, the snow was perfect with a dusting of fresh powder, it was a temperate 22 degrees with no wind, and nothing could stop me from skiing until my legs gave out.
It was one of the most perfect days of skiing that I can remember. Really, one of the most perfect days I have ever spent outdoors.
We skied until our legs were rubber, packed it in, and headed back to the hotel to prepare for departing the next day.
The drive back was gorgeous, sunny, and luckily none of us landed in…
…jail. Although if we did, something tells me that it would be pretty easy to break out of.
Well I’m off to tackle my mounting list of to-do’s. Stay tuned this week for some lovely baked goods, some scrumptious dinners, and to hear all about the feast I’m cooking up for Husband’s birthday.
Happy hump day!
I’m going on vacay with the fam. Vacay, as in vay-cay-tion. I love when people spell it “vaca,” by the by. If you ever took 6th grade Spanish you know that those people just said “I’m going on cow.” Which is equally as awesome, but doesn’t make as much sense.
Anyhoo, I’ll be out out of my office until the first day of the great month of February. And by my “office,” I mean my couch. And by “out,” I mean no laptop, no internet, lots of e-books and (gasp!) magazines. You know—those old archaic forms of entertainment often composed of real, honest-to-god paper.
We’re off to visit Husband’s folks in Colorado, and although I want to bring my laptop, my carry-on is already stuffed full of my camera, video camera, diapers, four hours worth of baby snacks, toys, ibuprofen and five mini bottles of tequila to make the flight more…bearable.
There were days before Miss Lucy when we traveled lightly. We carried on a single bag between us. My purse was a small little number not stuffed with Cheerios and Pampers. We didn’t book hotel rooms in advance and took public transportation. “We flew off to Rome on a moment’s notice…”
Those days are behind us. And if you can identify that last movie quote you win a wagon wheel coffee table.
While I’m gone, I thought I would give y’all a little taste of what’s to come in the great month of February here at RDG. I’ve been saving some recipes for a, well, rainy day. And by rainy day, I mean a day when I don’t have anything else to post and haven’t cooked in a month. Which is what the situation will be when I return from vacation.
Dessert first. Let’s start with the sweet stuff:
Bakery-style chocolate chip cookies. You know, the huge kind that are gooey in the middle and crispy around the edges?
I’m a little obsessed with this type of cookie. I’ve tried dozens of recipes, this one being the winner. I’ll clue you in on what makes them huge and gooey and totally delicious. And how to make them yourself.
Sticky bun cinnamon rolls. Because sticky buns by themselves are just…boring. These take the best of both worlds and marry them together in a union of wedded sugary bliss.
Alright. On to the savory junk:
Creamy portabella pot roast. Tender roast, red wine and rich portabella mushrooms come together in this creamy one pot meal. It’ll be a wintry February treat.
Wild mushroom linguine. Can you tell that I’m a little obsessed with mushrooms at the moment? They’re an easy ingredient that adds tons of flavor. This dish uses dried porcinis and some simple stuff that you probably already have in your pantry.
It’ll knock your socks off. Or your rain boots.
Have a fantastic week, eat lots of chocolate, and stay tuned. When I return, so will the recipes. And they will be worth the wait.