Gastronomie

It's hard to believe that Miss VJK's Picholine at Prefere (known in these parts as "Olive", "Baby Puppy" or "Dark Menace") is 2.5 years old. It seems like just yesterday that we asked the internets to help us name her, and now she is dam to a litter of four stunning puppies who are already well-loved family dogs that are going to do beautifully in the ring. 

There have been some truly hysterical moments this year, but somehow our visit to the puppies when they were a week old really encapsulates the joy of laughter for me. This was a laugh that came from a place of pure love, of the euphoria of watching four little hamster-sized critters develop their own personalities at such an early age. There was nothing particularly comical about this moment (oh, who am I kidding?) but I smiled and laughed so hard and for so long that my face absolutely HURT. 

I hope this little video brings a smile to your face as well. :-)

 

I've had a Twitter account since May 2007. I wasn't too prolific in those early days, but I was fascinated from the get-go. I was preaching the future value of LinkedIn when most of my industry peers considered it "MySpace for grown-ups." And when I discovered StumbleUpon, I thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. And then, of course, there's my blog with with I've had a long-standing love-hate affair.

All of these media have brought with them their own brands of serendipity and experiences. Virtual friendships have developed, professional doors have opened, travel arrangements have been made, and new experiences created.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm no stranger to Social Media, or the way it has changed our lives. But the most awesome "social web" experience I had this year had little to do with my OWN activity on any social site. It was realizing that the industry I've grown up in and love (Multichannel Retail) was missing the boat, and that most of my peers in marketing just weren't sure where to start tapping into the power of customer engagement.

With that revelation came a lot of hard work (the paperwork! the financials!), a lot of soul-searching (do we really have the backbones for entrepreneurship?) and the subsequent birth of a partnership with someone I have a gross ton of respect for. On August 27th, TimesTwoMarketing, a marketing optimization consultancy for multichannel retailers became a legal entity, and our website went live.

Four months to the day later, I have to smile when I take stock of what we've achieved. I'm thrilled with the roster of the clients we've worked with, the challenges we've overcome, and the mentors who've taken the time to help us grow. I truly believe we are going to help our industry thrive in these new channels, and make our clients look like heros to their internal organization leaders. These are things to be proud of, and none of them would have been possible were I not as enamored of the social web.

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This post is part of Gwen Bell's "Best of 2009 Challenge" 

 
 I don't usually write about people. The few times I have, it's been a family member, or else veiled by some food-related event that keeps this blog from become too personal. But once in a while, it's necessary to shed those safeguards, and write about people and events which have changed everything. Today is one of those days. 

The person who left an indelible impression on me in 2009 won't be a surprise to many people. She has a knack for changing lives, you see. 

• I met her 18 months ago at Elixir. I noticed her, we exchanged perhaps five words, and then Book Club proceeded as usual. I bumped into her on the BART platform that night as we were both Oakland-bound, and we chatted for a while. She was more alive than anyone I'd met in many, many moons.
• A couple of months later, after a few more Book Clubs, I was talking about Burning Man, and about how profoundly tortured I was over the fact that I couldn't really afford to go, but my soul was dying at the thought of not going. I remember saying to her, "you should really go; you belong there." It wasn't until much later that I learned she thought I was insane for putting myself through it.
• 2009 rolled around, and she was there to celebrate with us. We drank Mai Tais, Monkey Pods and Grogs at Forbidden Island and danced until the wee hours. It would set the stage for the next 12 months. 
• We whiled away many a Sunday at Heinolds; mid-week klatches at The Trappist often led to roast duck dinners at Yung Kee. And there was the particularly memorable evening that started with sushi and ended with Greyhounds at Cafe VanKleef. I felt like the Dynamic Duo of the DTO. 
• A mere 14 months after our first meeting, we packed up her trusty steed with two bikes, 15 gallons of water, shelf-stable "food", a first-aid kit, and enough music for the eight hour drive to the most unforgiving climate in the hemisphere -- Black Rock City. While there, we shared a tent, a sunrise, giggles, heartaches and frustration (we finally figured out that covering our bedding with one big sheet before a duststorm would help cut down on that last one). We drove home laughing and crying and exposed. She later told me she hated me for being right about her and Burning Man. I took it as a compliment.
• Most recently, I went to hear her read a collection of her short stories, and was reminded once again that I am blessed to know someone so profoundly talented and so incredibly alive. One of my greatest goals this year is to make sure I get to see her perform with her band. Yes, she's also in a band.

I have met a few amazing people in my life. I try to keep them close, for I am inspired by them and (I hope) become a better person by learning from them. It has been a few years, though, since I met someone so incredibly vibrant as her; someone so multi-faceted and impactful and non-judgmental and giving. She reminds me, almost every day, that life is a gift for which I should be grateful and with which I could do more. 

Her name is Eugenia Gratto, and I'm honored to call her my friend.

 
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This post is part of Gwen Bell's "Best of 2009 Challenge" 

Today, Gwen's challenge was to pick "a word that encapsulates your year. '2009 was _____.'"

There are plenty of words I could use to finish that sentence (2009 was bizarre. 2009 was topsy-turvy. 2009 was ridiculous. 2009 was harrowing. See?), but instead I'm going to talk about a phrase that came up with almost dizzying frequency this year.

"It is What it Is."

It's a loaded sentence, if you really think about it. From one perspective, it encapsulates the whole Serenity Prayer in five little words. It acknowledges that we can't always be in control, that we can't know what's to come or how we'll necessarily react to those unknowns.

On the other hand, it's also kind of a cop-out. It's the way we verbally shrug our shoulders, tell ourselves and whomever's listening that we've given up. That we have no more energy for the fight.

I think it was sometime in July that the profound conflict in those twelve letters, those otherwise inconsequential words, threw me for a loop. I started counting how often I said the phrase, and how often I heard it.

Would you believe me if I told you that in ONE WEEK,  seven different people used that phrase a total of 18 times? I won't even tell you how often I caught myself midway through that now-God-awful cliché.

"It is what it is" has come to symbolize the overwhelming greatness and awfulness that 2009 has been. The whole year has been a paradox of accomplishments and failures, delightful surprises and abject disappointments, daydreams and nightmares. And yes, it's been a lesson in the difference between giving up and letting go.

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This post is part of Gwen Bell's "Best of 2009 Challenge" 

Today's "topic" in the "Best of 2009 Challenge" is an interesting one for me. You see, I've been a fairly adventurous eater most of my life. From asking my parents to take me to sushi for my 13th birthday to discovering (and becoming addicted to) Ethiopian food my freshman year of college, I can't think of a time when I wasn't willing to try something new. There are the rare exceptions, of course, now mostly limited to runny egg yolks and fish with tiny bones. 

But the one flavor profile I never really developed a taste for until this year? Spicy. By which I mean hot-pepper-spice, not horseradish heat. Despite years of eating everything from Mexican to Indian, I was still ordering all my food "mild" when given the choice.

I'm not exactly sure when this changed. Not sure which dish or meal first introduced me to the endorphin rush that so often accompanies the delicious heat of capsicum. Or when I realized that, properly used, peppers have a delicate and beautiful flavor that keeps you coming back for more, despite the pain.

I recently made a Penne alla Vodka that I finished with vodka we'd infused with Rancho Gordo Chiles de Arbol. It was... scorchingly hot. It was bite after bite of intensely-building heat. Even C, who is generally immune to extreme heat, commented that it was crazy-hot. And yet, I couldn't stop eating it. That meal was a new milestone for me.

So what was my delicious discovery this year? Tortuous, flavorful, nervous-system-awakening heat.

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This post is part of the Best of 2009 Challenge.