Charleston and all its charm

Charleston is just as lovely as I remember it. I went there over the weekend to visit my friend Youlia. She lives in the cutest duplex home that she and her friends call the Château. It has one of those front doors that swings open to the porch, like so many of the pastel colored homes in the city do. Staying at her home downtown was great, because we were able to walk everywhere we went.

Charleston has all the charm of the south with the added bonus of being close to the sea. The only time we used the car all weekend was for a short drive to Folly Beach on Saturday, where we spent the entire day bronzing in the sun.

My favorite places I visited include: Speakeasy, Social Wine Bar, Fish, 

Saffron Cafe & Bakery, Closed for Business, Sam's Closet, and Queen Street Grocery.  

No trip to Charleston is complete without a visit to the City Market. I love to watch women, like the one above, weave beautiful baskets out of sweetgrass, a tradition that has existed in Charleston for more than 300 years.

Catching up with my intern friends over breakfast. It had been nearly a year since I last saw them. 

My trip to Charleston, South Carolina was a blast. Wandering the historic streets in the sultry sun, drinking champagne at happy hour, and giggling at all the lawyers leaving work in their seersucker suits-- 

I adore this southern coastal city.

Memories of My Father

Father's Day always brings back a wave of memories of my dad--
The sound of his boots when he walked around the house. The tune he whistled as he came through the door after a long day of work. His laughter. His loud sneeze. Drinking coffee with him in the mornings before school--his black, mine with milk and sugar. Playing frisbee on the beach. The games of one-on-one basketball. His sleepy smile on Christmas mornings when my siblings and I woke up at the crack of dawn with anticipation to tear into our presents. The three songs he always sang.  How he always beat me at every game of checkers. Every game. How I never once heard him speak an unkind word about another person. The time he pulled over to help a complete stranger who had run out of diesel. The time I accidentally backed into his truck one foggy morning and he calmly said, "We'll worry about it later. You're going to be late to school." The time I forgot my coat when we drove out of town to see the high school football team play in the state championship, and he graciously let me wear his while he froze the entire game. The days we snorkeled. The day we kayaked. The days we fished.  His cell phone ringtone. The way he answered each time with a "Yel-lo." The way he sprinkled salt on his watermelon. The way I somehow fit perfectly in the pocket created by the bend of his legs when he was lying on the couch watching TV, and the way I'd sit there and read books to him. The first time he let me "drive" the truck in neutral in the middle of a pasture. Helping him pick out fireworks every July 4th and December 31st. Helping him round up cattle on my horse named Dallas.  Helping him fix fences and how it didn't seem like a chore at the time, because I was getting to spend the day with my dad.

Though my time with my father was short, the lessons he taught me over 17 years will stick with me for the rest of my days. To put it simply, he was the best man I've ever known. He showed me by his example the importance of a strong work ethic and treating everyone you meet with kindness. He was a respected business man, always willing to lend a hand to someone in need. And above all, he loved my mother and my siblings and me unconditionally. If I could permanently collect these memories, I'd string them together like colorful beads and wear them on a necklace near my heart every day. I don't ever want to forget them. I don't think I ever could.

Hello 22

Although there's nothing extraordinary about turning 22, I have a feeling this year will be full of surprises and adventure. Last year on my birthday, I went to a Spanish restaurant with all my coworkers in Germany and the year before I was celebrating at a karaoke night in Halifax, so it was nice to spend my birthday at home for a change. I dined with family and friends at Rioja, a Spanish restaurant in Houston where we asked the waiter to bring out a selection of their most popular tapas. There's something wonderful about eating family-style in a restaurant, sharing food with the people you love and slowly savoring each bite. I think it's something we've lost in the American food culture, and I wish we took the time to enjoy eating more often. After countless rounds of food (my favorites included the bacon-wrapped dates and the pulled pork over mashed potatoes drizzled in truffle oil), we continued with conversation and glasses of red wine. Just when we all thought we were too full to eat another bite, the server brought out a pan of paella big enough to cover the entire circumference of the adjacent table. Not wanting to let any go to waste, we each had a couple of forkfuls before having it divided between to-go containers. I enjoyed every moment of our Spanish smorgasbord, and I hope to make tapas an annual birthday tradition.

"If you’re twenty-two, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel— as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them —  wherever you go." -Anthony Bourdain