Holy Moly Ricotta Cannoli

I woke up and found out that the Norton Street Italian Festa was going on today in Leichhardt.  This could only mean two things: food, and more food.  Obviously, I was down.

There were tons of cooking demonstrations going on all day!  I sat in on a few to rest my tummy in between rounds...

I had lunch right before the festival, but I couldn't resist the porchetta sandwich.  It's apparently one of a list of traditional Italian foods with cultural relevance and significance.

According to Wikipedia, "Porchetta [porˈketta], also sometimes spelled porketta in English, is a savoury, fatty, and moist boneless pork roast of Italian culinary tradition." 

"The body of the pig is gutted, deboned, arranged carefully with layers of stuffing, meat, fat, and skin, then rolled, spitted, and roasted, traditionally over wood." 

"Porchetta is usually heavily salted in addition to being stuffed with garlic, rosemary, fennel, or other herbs, often wild."

There was only one thing Wikipedia forgot to mention...Porchetta is absolutely delicious!  

It was an absolute beautifully stunning combination of fat, juicy pork, and crunchy pork skin.  I had mine with chili sauce.  It was a masterpiece--gluttony at its finest.

These guys were adorable!  They were so cheery!  I had no idea what they were singing about, as it was in Italian, but I'm sure it was of happy things!

These slushies in pouches seemed to be really popular amongst the little kiddies!

These were the Mustazzoli, which are essentially Italian honeybread cookies...which are essentially Italian gingerbread cookies.  Except these were absolutely massive.  

There was also gnocchi, which I was dying to try, but unfortunately I was only born with one stomach, and gnocchi wouldn't belong in my dessert pocket.

There was also some granita!

And fresh squeezed orange juice!

This stand would have to be one of my favorites of the day.  Locantro Fine Foods was serving an assortment of irresistible desserts.

It was a tough decision but I had to go with the ricotta cannoli, and let me just say, holy moly ricotta cannoli....life is good.  

Cheers,

Kimmy

The Best Is Yet To Come

The other day I came upon what I had then considered to be a very sad phrase: “The best is yet to come”. 

At first the quote seems to be absolutely radiating with positivity and untarnished optimism.  I mean, if the quote were a flower, it’d definitely be a sunflower, and if it were a person, it’d be J.K. Rowling, because that lady has probably brought joy to more children in the world than jolly old Santa himself.  It’s a phrase seemingly brimming with hope and cheer.  The best is yet to come.  It’s what you tell your girl friend, all the while helplessly watching her mascara stream mercilessly down her face after a messy break-up.  “Don’t worry, it only gets better; the best is yet to come”, you tell your wide-eyed younger sister as she’s flipping through the final pages of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.  “The best is yet to come”, you say to your friend after you miss your bus by just a few seconds.  In this case, “best” and “bus” can actually be used interchangeably.  The bus is yet to come.  You see, it’s a happy thing.  It’s why it goes, Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas.  And when it seems like nothing can trump the best-ness that is Christmas, you get fireworks on New Year’s.  You see, right when you start to wonder how things could possibly get any better than mistletoe, stockings, candy canes, and tinsel, New Year’s surprises you with fireworks, because I mean, who doesn’t get excited by fireworks?  It, along with the list of New Year resolutions, serves as a reminder: great things, including a five-pound lighter you and money in the form of Chinese New Year, are yet to come.

And then I thought about it.  But what if, while waiting for the best to come, you miss out on the best things in the present?  What if the best is doing cartwheels right in front of you and you’re turned the other way?  Instead of waiting for better times, shouldn’t we be making the best out of the current moments?  Shouldn’t we be jumping out of our seats to join in on those cartwheels?  I mean, after thinking about it a bit more, if the saying were a person, it’d actually be Severus Snape—well intentioned, but very, very misleading.

I was sitting in my last pair of clean underwear last night contemplating, waiting for a load of fresh laundry to finish up.  Desperation takes on a whole new meaning once you reach college.  So there I was, desperate and in complete agreement with the phrase, because nothing screams “better times” like a huge, heaping load of clean panties guaranteed to last me two weeks.  Putting off any form of productivity by scrolling through iPhoto, taking a nice, leisurely stroll down memory lane, I realized something.  Sure, clean undies may lay ahead, but the chandelier tree lay behind me.  Actually, it didn’t just lay…it sparkled.

Located on 2811 W Silverlake Dr, Los Angeles, CA 90039, the chandelier tree began as a way to display several vintage chandeliers too large and grand for Adam Tenenbaum's home. 

Over time, the collection grew, as did the number of admirers and the support from the city of Silverlake.  You could actually show your support by donating some spare change in the parking meter to help cover the electricity costs and keep the tree lit!

On the day we went, we were actually bummed to find the tree unlit, but at the arrival of a larger group, we actually went up to and knocked on Mr. Tenenbaum's door and he was more than happy to turn on the lights for us!

It was simply magical!  If you're in the area, you really do need to put it on your list to visit.  I definitely plan on making another visit around the holidays...I guess the best is yet to come!

Yours,

Kimmy

Hot Dogs, Burgers, and Markets

I know I like my hot dogs downtown LA style, wrapped in bacon and smothered with an unforgiving layer of mayonnaise and onions, served with a chili for the bold and a generous amount of napkins for the messy.  I like my burgers Hawaiian style, slathered with sweet teriyaki sauce, topped with a bright and juicy pineapple wheel, and served with a bottomless bucket of fries and a pool of pepper-sprinkled ketchup.  I like my yoga unbearably hot, my pizzas for breakfast and cold, and my before-bed-showers just a bit warmer than warm.  I like my tea green, my running socks black, and my closet staple V-neck a crisp white—especially after Labor Day.  Bananas to be eaten, I know to be spotless, while my room on the other hand, I, along with any unfortunate roommate I’ve had or will ever have, know will never be.  I’ve been a good listener and a great observer, yet it still surprises me how well I’ve gotten to know myself.  Even more surprising though, is how much I’ve yet to learn.

I’d always expected it to be a surprising and rather unpleasant feeling to realize that I didn’t know someone as well as I had once believed, but contrary to that belief, when it comes to myself, it’s great.  In fact, it’s better than greater—it’s a feeling to look forward to and live for.  Let me explain myself.  It was about a week ago when I realized that I liked pecorino.  Yes, cheese.  Never would I have imagined myself to be a cheese person—to be able to appreciate, let alone distinguish between various cheeses.  That was to be my sister’s niche in life, not mine.  It was one of the things that differentiated us.  She liked her pastas looking as if a snowstorm of Parmesan had hit spaghetti city, whereas I preferred mine—well, I preferred mine as if a snowstorm of Parmesan hadn’t, thank you very much.  Then, a few days ago, I liked a cube of blue, and from there, a few crumbles of feta, a slather of Brie, a wedge of goat, and heck, bring on the snowstorm.

It’s as if these new discoveries, open windows of opportunity, allowing me to gaze into parts of a world, and parts of myself, I had never known to exist.  Certain people may bring out a certain beauty you never realized you had, while others may summon your inner beast.  Certain conversations may lead you to realize the strength of your ideas and beliefs, bringing out the sagacious philosopher in you, while others may lead you to realize that you’re as boy-crazy as you ever were, gossip-loving as you ever will be, and forever destined to be young at heart.  Different people and different experiences can help to close windows, open doors, close blinds, but open shutters, and ultimately help to mold and shape the beautiful person you become.  Just as well, different cities may bring out different sides of you, and different markets…well, you get the gist.

Being in Sydney has definitely brought out the market-loving fiend in me, leading me to the Glebe market yesterday morning.  If you’re looking to bring out the inner clothes-loving hippie in you, your search ends here. 

 

Open every Saturday from 10am-4pm at 40 Glebe Point Rd, Glebe NSW 2037, this market is not as produce based as others in Sydney.  Actually, let me rephrase that.  If you're looking for produce, you're definitely at the wrong market.

Glebe is what you'd get if a market decided to go all hipster on you.  It's kind of like a huge outdoor swapmeet with vendors selling things from candles to overalls to bow ties for pets to bohemian beach dresses.  The randomness of it all makes it ten times more fun.

And of course, no market is complete without a chai tea vendor; however I must say, nothing beats the chai tea tent at the Marrickville market!

If you can't make it Saturday, you could walk a few shops down where you'll find The Works, which is a permanent marketplace opened all days of the week!!

I could actually get lost in here for hours if I let myself...

If your inner market-loving fiend is dying to burst out one Saturday morning, do pay the Glebe market a visit!  Who knows?  You may discover a new love for bow ties for pets!  Or rediscover an old love for bow ties for pets...Regardless, visit the Glebe markets!  Your inner flower-child-clothes-loving-hippie will thank you.

Cheers,

Kimmy

I've Got 99 Problems But A Beach Ain't One

Let's be real here, Jay Z...you do not have 99 problems.

And if you do, you really need to consider moving closer to a beach or something...

Hope you enjoyed a day at Maroubra in pictures!

Hugs and more hugs,

Kimmy

Believing in Tooth Fairies

As a child, I believed in the tooth fairy more than I did Santa Claus.  Why?  Because unlike Santa, who had forgotten to deliver my Easy-Bake-Oven (several years in a row I might add), the tooth fairy was reliable.  I could go to bed one tooth poorer, knowing that upon waking up, I’d be one crisp dollar richer.  This unspoken arrangement we had going on never failed, and with every lost tooth, my faith in the fairy strengthened.  You see, in a world full of uncertainties, I could find comfort in knowing that as long as the teeth would continue to plop on out, the dollars would continue to roll on in.

With that being said, you could only imagine my shock and disappointment when I found out that: 1) not only was my friend receiving 19 more dollars per tooth than I was, but 2) her tooth fairy was also her mom.

But you see, it’s all a part of growing up.  Becoming a true grown up and a true adult requires you to stop believing in things like Santa, the Easter Bunny, and tooth fairies, and to start believing in things that your parents can’t pretend to be—like world peace.  To avoid disappointment, you’re forced to believe in things that are certain.  Like Valentine’s Day, for instance, landing on February 14^th every year, and cakes that rise with the right proportion of ingredients and oven temperatures.  You believe in the deliciousness of S’mores because you know that the combination of graham crackers, mallows, and Hershey’s is a recipe for success…or disaster if you’re looking at it from the perspective of your waistline.  You believe in green on St. Paddy’s Day and white after Labor Day because you’re a rule breaker.  Red means stop, and yellow, contrary to DMV manuals, means speed up.  July brings on the shorts that are several finger lengths too short, and October calls for changing leaves, sweater weather, and pumpkins.

Did you happen to catch that, Aussieland?  Because October seemed to have missed the memo.  Instead of pumpkin, pawpaw and strawberries dominate the supermarket produce sections in October, and the sweater weather generally associated with this time of year, has been replaced by simply better weather.  Temperatures are high, t-shirt cuts are low, and if unicorns existed, they’d be frolicking in the fields.


It's a magical time, and as spring is rounding the corner, markets in Sydney are as abundant as ever.  The options are actually overwhelming, but a good place to start would be the EQ Village Markets!



Located at the Moore Park Entertainment Quarter on 122 Lang Road, Moore Park, NSW 2021)




Open every Wednesday and Saturday, from 10am-3pm, the EQ Village markets have a fine assortment of breakfasts, brunches, lunches, as well as produce and treats.  




Chocolates and grass-fed free range beef all in one place…what more can a girl ask for?! 




It’s a great place to stop by on a Wednesday afternoon for some Ethiopian dishes and Biltong (which is actually harder and seemingly drier than the standard beef jerky), or on a Saturday morning for some smoked salmon and fresh flowers.  




But do come with your wallet (as most of these goodies come at farmer’s market prices) and a healthy appetite.



I can't guarantee mugs of steaming hot chocolate, nor can I guarantee you tables filled with baked goods that incorporate pumpkin in every way, shape, or form imaginable, but if you're willing to take a moment to forget about Santa Claus, tooth fairies, Easter bunnies, and autumns in October, I can guarantee gorgeous weather, charming company, delicious food, and a great time!

See you there,

Kimmy