The Orange, Pink, and Black

Well, hell, y'all.

Orange maybe the new black but pink is my favorite color and black still factors into my life . . .

Damn, Sam. As they say.

Let me break it down for you: here's the quickest recap this verbose girl can manage . . .

I just read the amazing memoir by Piper Kerman - 

Wanna know the story behind the Netlfix original series, "Orange is the New Black"? Here you go - 

Read the true story of a little blonde girl who goes to prison and learn a lot . . .

Outstanding. Such a brave and honest story. More notes on this later...

Maybe that's what made me put on my orange scarf, a sweet gift from J last Christmas, when home with the flu last night and today, freezing, and feeling - honestly? - totally bummed about the holidays . . . 

Which brings me to the fact that I dislike most things "orange." Pumpkin - eh. Oranges, deuces. A scarf gift or two - and tonight I actually did my own highlights for the first time ever, but they didn't turn out - ah, ok . . . 

But pink, pink, you always have me. And today when nothing was ok - between being alone for the holiday weekend, or having the flu, or . . . anything - well, throwing up on the bathroom floor/toilet is a little better when you can reach to someone via cell and it has a pink cover. Pink makes it better when you are home from the doctor and can put on a pink tee with your comfies, as one of my high school girl friends always called pj's.

And black? Black is love, in this form - who wouldn't feel better (or even when the patient dare to disturb THIS posed on your feet?) - 

Luke keeping me warm and safe.

I can't stand Thanksgiving - it has been my least favorite holidays for years: I hate most of the typical foods, I have too many anorexic and food-phobic memories tied to it (and I just can't fucking eat mashed potatoes!!!!!!!). 

And I wasn't invited to our family Thanksgiving this year. And it was decided, then I was told. So some Waldens will be doing this - 

Enjoying the view at Wild Dunes...

And I won't. Christmas details, to follow- I have been told I'm not included in that either. Y'all get ready for the dramatic details, but they shall follow. Oh, they will.

Here's what I know today, and on what I am trying to focus: I have a beautiful orange scarf with special meaning to me, a pink phone case I love that a sweet friend bought when he helped me get my new phone, and a precious black doggus who loves his mommy even when not many others do . . . and I am trying to focus on the good. And be grateful.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Little Mama and Big Sky Moments

I haven't been to Montana in years, y'all. But I'm baaaack!

Let me explain: I have a new job.

I now work for a company that is eco-friendly, bison-loving, and founded by two well-known men well-reputed in the great Peach State and beyond. I'll let you deduce what I now call "The Restaurant" really is.

Yes, I made a job and career move, and I've switched quesadillios for burgers.  (Yes, I did say quesadillios - it's like how I said "staple-or" for our staplers that never worked quite right at the old haunt - I like nicknames and shorthand...).

I got spirited away, right across the driveway!

And it's to a place whose food I love - see . . .

The beef/bison slider duo . . . delicious and a deal!

And I am thinking I will really like the culture. The Restaurant is run by, as the original founders (still very involved, btw) proudly proclaim themselves to be, mavericks. Maybe it's the 80s baby, "Top Gun" loving inner me, but I have always loved that word. I am digging what I am quickly learning about this company, and about more than just the meat. I get to wear jeans to work - something this girl always loves to wear, even if they are a slightly darker and less cool version of those she normally would wear - 

Mossimo at Target - $22.99. Not bad!

It also doesn't hurt when you get a new *handle* on your first night: if the head chef looks at you and says . . . "Little Mama! I know you! You're that little blonde girl from next door!" and the rest of the kitchen staff, then quickly the serving staff (ok, all the boys but that's most of both staffs, so . . .), picks up the new moniker . . . well, let's just say that I've worked in enough restaurants to know that when the heart of the house is on your side, life is good.

Of course, getting the guys fresh lemonade and running food doesn't hurt either.

Here's to new adventures, little-size jeans and many big sky moments to come . . . 

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Oatmeal Cookie and A Dog

Who'd think of this combination? Moi!

Sir Luke has recently begun coming to the Top Floor with me, and yesterday on my typical Wednesday night off, we had lots of quality time together. After a nice walk and his dinner, I made mine and we went upstairs for a little movie marathon - and I brought a treat.

When I put pumpkin bread crumblings (my Mom's homemade, no less) on top of his dog food the other morning I realized I was on to something....so I decided to continue experimenting with what people food is ok - even good - for dogs. Oatmeal makes the list, of course used sparingly if in cookie form, as you don't want to give your baby a bunch of sugar, etc. But this - 

A nice treat. So as we settled into our first movie, and I started eating my cookie, how could I not share??

Halfway into the movie, he moved from my side to this other relaxed position - 

Happiest boy in town!

We had a good night. I will chalk it up to cookie love, and Mommy-Luke love (but cookies never hurt!).

Not recommended for every day or all meals - for pets or people! - but sometimes a little sweetness makes it all better.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

The Devil's . . . Restaurant?

"Character is destiny." - Heraclitus

How does this relate to love, or food?

Let me explain.

Some of you know I am an avid reader - by that I mean four to five books a week, if not more (seriously) - and right now I am reading The Devil's Casino by Vicky Ward.

Well, STFD, y'all. It's extremely well-written and very detailed - I have had to re-read pages to make sure I "got" all the specifics as Ms. Ward goes into so many . . . aspects of the Lehman Brothers (and their subsequent names) beginning, rise and fall. And food enters into it when there are descriptions of all the Lehman perks during their hayday. Executive meals - not to mention the salons and other services proffered - were the norm . . .

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/111801149X/ref=s9_psimh_gw_p14_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=0G9A1Z6TE1S078DM62ND&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1630083502&pf_rd_i=507846

Love entered into my reading of this book, and knowledge of Lehman, when my Daddy told me today: Chris Pettit was a classmate of his at West Point, and that's why I found the book in his office. That put a whole new spin on the bread and butter, steak and martinis - whatever - that were served in that executive dining room in the 80s and 90s.

There is no man in this world whose opinion I respect about a person more than my father's. You know the saying "I'd want him in a foxhole with me?" That's my Dad's type of judge of character.

Is this . . .

Worth all that happened in their demise? That took people out - both inside and outside? Methinks not.

I haven't finished the book yet - let's just say I'm through the apps and cocktail round, but not yet to the entree, or - the bittersweet (I am being generous here) dessert.

Great people do great things; sometimes they have awful and accidental falls or deaths, Chris Pettit being one of them.

Today, I am grateful for the ability to read - to contemplate lunch before work - to have people in my life, my Dad included for sure, who appreciate my weird proclivity for fascinating real-life stories.

Food is temporary in the body - character will out in the heart.

As always, food for thought . . . 

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

The Great Queso Debate

This is a very serious matter, y'all: white versus yellow (orange). 

Really, people are serious - and opinionated! - about their queso.

Growing up here in the Southeast - or at least, in Atlanta - I am used to the gooey, hot, delicious - and white! - goodness that I've always known as queso dip.

Something like this (but minus the japs for me) - 

This is how I always assumed queso was at every Mexican restaurant, everywhere. Apparently, it isn't. As has been explained to me at The Restaurant, in at least some parts of the Southwest, "yellow" or "orange" queso dip - ie, made with different cheese than we use here - is normal.

Kinda like this version - 

Heh. Ours is way prettier, but this perfectly captures the color!

Honestly? I find the color off-putting. Now, I won't lie: if it's 11:45 on a Friday night and one of my tables is still sitting there chatting (we close at 11:30 but if you're there at 11:29:59 or before, and you stay - well, we won't in any way *encourage* you to leave; it's protocol, y'all!) and there's some "extra" queso in the back, and I haven't eaten in nine hours, or if one of the managers is nice enough to whip up some "crazy nachos" with all kinds of toppings including our queso - I am likely to indulge. And it does taste good. Most customers love it, even (especially our "Cowboy Queso," which includes steak and bacon - how good does all that cheese and meat sound, right?).

But I get asked at least a few times a week if we have the "real" stuff - ie, white queso dip. Alas, we do not offer such version. And I will make a confession: I go down the street to another Mexican restaurant when a real cheese dip craving strikes. Childhood conditioning? A penchant for white cheese of any kind? Just a love of cheese in general so I need to sample all kinds to satisfy my palate?

Probably doesn't matter, as there are all kinds of cheesy goodness in the world, whatever the color!

Long live le fromage (oops, I forgot I grew up studying French, not Spanish . . .)!

Whatever color you prefer, to eat cheese is to love.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

The Salad Days

Oh, what an expression.

Sweet - and painful. So sweet when you are living them; so painful after they're gone.

My salad days, at least of recent years, were last year and most of this one.

As far as food goes, it was part of the love. There were eggs and biscuit products over leisurely or even hurried breakfasts. Pizza - or salads, even- and the occasional sandwich over lunch. Filet, or Mrs. Chaing's specialties, or crabcakes or . . . over dinner. Food deliveries after a long day or brought when sick; cheese plates and champagne, cocktails and appetizers; even deviled eggs and muffins brought for an all-nighter at work. Many of my memories revolve around food shared, over confidences proffered, random tidbits of childhood, of history, of all sorts of verbal banter in the best of spirits. So many memories.

But what else? The tenderness, the concern, the animation, the silliness - that was the real part of the love. Sure, it was intertwined with food, often, but the love for each other was the crux of the matter. 

And I thought it would last.

But salad turned into tears; communication turned into silence; intimacy turned into alienation.

It seems a great bit of irony - unsurprising for CN's life, I know, given all its twists and turns - that I now work in one of the places in our semi-regular rotation. Some days, I can't serve veggie and steak combo fajitas without a thought of him. Who knew sizzling platters and a side of guac and cheese could be of such emotional impact?

Most of the memories I cherish; yet there are some items, places, and environments I cannot (yet?) stomach. When I attempt to cook a fritatta (his were so good), when I have a really good steak, when I attempt to share a meal with, well, most anyone else - it gives me pause. You all know food has complicated meaning for me - a love-hate relationship, if you will - this has added a whole new element of angst. (Who says angst at 7:24 in the morning, by the way? This was just one of the kind of dorky things we would say to each other, as part of our vocabulary game . . .)

Do I still enjoy egg-y goodness? Yes. Will a great steak always make me smile, or the most delicious crabcake with a mustard-y sauce make my heart and stomach happy? Definitely. But the real message here is that sharing treats in food form with someone you love is a privilege and one of the best things in life.

Communion - friendship - flirtation that goes into something way deeper - that is way more than salad could ever be.

It is great fortune.

So now, I remember my salad days with tremendous . . . love. 

Shall they come again? I don't know. Sometimes I want a crystal ball to find out; sometimes I don't. Sometimes I want that shared chicken Parmesan, or grilled artichokes, or potstickers, or . . . 

But sometimes, wondering has its limits. And I don't know the end of that story (or do I?), or of mine. 

So for now, I know that I made my (famous-to-CN) eggs-in-a-hole, with cheddar cheese and mixed greens (ask me if you're interested and I'll tell you how I do it - sometimes I include bacon, just sayin'!) and a glass of OJ for breakfast early this morning.

And it was delicious.

Salad can be wonderful; days can be good. With food, and with relationships, maybe we can try and hope for the best. If we screw one or the other up, well, maybe we are - or become - willing to try again.

I've always said I will always remain an optimist, despite any obstacle thrown in my way.

Here's to more good food and more good - love? - along the way.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Random Happy Post

I thought I'd change things up, and I got inspired.

Food + family + friends + life + memories . . . = love.

True?

True.

So, when I had that thought, I got sentimental and it occurred to me . . . "What are ten of my favorite food and love moments, ever?"

Here goes . . . (in no particular order, mind you)

1. The filet I ordered at age seven or so, at The Ritz Carlton Naples - Mom and Dad weren't sure I knew what I was doing but indulged me anyway, and I ate every bite of that 14 oz of deliciousness! (Sorry, this happened back in the day when we couldn't document all so the best I could do was a pic of the hotel itself...)

2. The squid-ink pasta I dared to try with my friends on one of our weekend trips to yet another Tuscan city, the semester I spent in Rome . . . strange to look at but sooo delicious!

3. My own asparagus pizza, shared with a dearest friend one happy and sunny day last year . . .

4. Mom's sausage and cheese biscuits - enough said!

We made a batch for work on Friday for a manager's birthday - HUGE hit!!

5. 36th Birthday Tiramisu at Il Vagabando . . . for so many reasons, it was the sweetest thing.

6. Eggs. In all forms - with J, at home, out . . . too many times to count so here are three faves . . . 

The boy makes a mean frittata!

Breakfast love at ABE

And this is how I roll at home with the egg sammies...

6. Burger-gasm. Yep, I said it. It's that good.

C'mon - you know it's H+F, right?

7. This always, always makes my heart smile when I have it, especially with one of my oldest besties . . . 

Classic: Houston's smoked salmon.

8. My Grandmother's creamed corn. I don't eat it anymore because no one will ever make it like she did and she always made an extra batch so my cousin Rett and I wouldn't fight over who had enough...Love, heart and soul on a plate, y'all!

9. The first Thanksgiving dinner I planned, cooked and hosted solo - for 14 (in 2007)!! From apps and cocktails to turkey and such, I pulled it all off - and it was just such a fun, ginny night as the saying goes!

10. A perfect day of lunch, food, and love - in a beautiful setting . . . 

Lunch at Wente Vineyards

I firmly believe we associate memories with food and vice versa - good and bad!- and these are a few of my favorite moments, eats and memories. Think about yours! It will make your heart happy.

Yours,

Love Bites,

Carrie Neal

French Fries, Cowboy Eggs and . . . a Date

French Fries, Cowboy Eggs and . . . a Date

Well, y'all (sorry- I seem to be starting off a lot of posts like this...) Rarely a dull moment in CN Land, that's for sure.

I work lots of long hours at The Restaurant, and often have a bite of something here and there, or get done late and am so tired I'm not even sure I'm hungry (and most certainly don't want to cook!). But last night, I got off early - read: before midnight - and thought I'd venture next door to a place I'd been meaning to try for a while now.

Watershed on Peachtree. I highly recommend, if only for the decor and ambiance (though the lighting is just a skosh too low) - and for the many things I want to try off the menu and the cool people I met. More on that to follow.

I was in that stage of not-sure-if-I'm-really-hungry, so rather than a "real" order, I went with a salty staple: French fries . . . 

Deliciousness!

And I found an interesting person sitting next to me, with whom to share them. Hmmm... turns out, this man and I know people in common, had a schmorgasbord (sp?) of things to chit chat over and, well, he kissed me on the cheek as he walked me to the car - and we're having dinner next week.

Y'all.

I don't even know what to think about all this - except - maybe it's time. Maybe it's good. Maybe I've at least met a new person who will be a smart addition to my life.

So what did I do when I woke up today? Made myself Cowboy Eggs - 

Hee!

Ok, that was meant to be funny but they really looked like this - 

Mmm, call them Cowboy Eggs, Eggs-in-a-Hole, whatever- perfect breakfast for one!

Add a little canteloupe and it was perfect fortification to start the day. Many things seem to always be happening in Carrie Neal Land these days - ha, always? - and, well, maybe I should be up for the next chapters and new adventures . . . stay tuned.

Yours,

Love Bites,

Carrie Neal

Ode To a Biscuit

Ode To a Biscuit

It's Sunday morning and it's one of my favorite times of a day or the week. I've long considered it leisurely time - I haven't been as consistent about going to church in the past years as I should be or as my Dad would like, but I digress - and a time when I could sleep in and then decide what to do with my day. Now, I usually work Sunday nights so that changes my free schedule a little bit, but I still like this time.

And occasionally, like today, I liked a biscuit product as someone I know refers to them. J and I rarely had breakfast together on Sundays that I recall - though often a later brunch - but we did on many other days of the week, and this is usually what he would order - though I never quite got used to him putting jam on his sausage biscuit.

When I awoke (very early) this morning, my first thoughts were - "juice and one of Mom's sausage biscuits!" She makes awesome sausage and cheese ones and stores them in the freezer for ready use.

Here's a perfect picture of one that kind of resembles the one I had today - 

And here's the one I actually ate (yes, I used a knife and fork to eat it - don't judge!) -

It was oh so good. I managed to eat most of it with juice and half a banana, and feel fortified to finish all my laundry (eep! let that get a little out of hand...) and run a couple of errands before getting ready for work. 

See, I really am trying to take care of me. In all ways. And, sometimes, a solid breakfast is part of that. Go, Mom, and go, me.

Happy Sunday, y'all.

Yours,

Love Bites,

Carrie Neal

Cheesey Love

Cheesey Love

Well, y'all. Damn.

I've been talking about my travails with food recently and yesterday just upped the ante. See, I haven't talked as much about The Great Demise and losing my beloved J. I just - haven't been able to, I guess.

And I've been getting too skinny. I like skinny, but this is a little much. Like the last time I was scared out of eating (that's a story for another time but it involved a divorce, being asked for alimony and a lengthy legal battle).

I learned yesterday he is too skinny too. 

See, we still talk. Once or twice a week. You have to understand: this man is (still) my heart. It has been almost three months now since TGD . . . but this shit ain't over. I was pretty sure he felt that way too, but it was confirmed yesterday. We have talked for the past couple of weeks about getting together - for the first time since July 8, which was the last time we'd seen each other since TGD on July 6 - and for various reasons hadn't done it . . . maybe neither was sure the other really wanted to - would - should . . .

But we did.

I was so nervous. I spent much of the last eight years seeing this man often and the last year and a half pretty much daily, unless he was traveling. And much of that time, in any part of our relationship, was spent over food and drinks. Yesterday, we met at one of our "go-to" spots; the bartender who was working looked so happy and surprised to see me when I arrived and wondered aloud if J would be there soon and why had it been so long since we'd been in?

The look on his face when I said we'd broken up and this would be the first time I'd see him in almost three months pretty much matched my level of shocked-ness.

He brought a lot of paper napkins to be at the ready in case I needed them, and was on cue to know if I would get too upset.

I hadn't eaten all day and ordered this as a distraction . . . 

Absolute deliciousness in the form of cheesey parmesan bread.

I picked at it. He arrived and he picked at it. 

We had too much to talk about - imagine if you'd spent so much time, every day, laughing and talking and loving someone and your first instinct was always . . . them. To say your thought, to share your story, to tell your idea or fear or hope or . . . 

And that person went away. 

It is brutal.

So yesterday, over mostly untouched food and drink, I saw my J. We talked about everything and nothing; the hard stuff and the easy stuff were all on the table. There were hours spent. There were many kisses involved. 

We are both learning how to be our best selves and I am grateful for that. We are trying to figure things out, mutually and severally as he always says. I miss him so. So much.

Will we end up together? We shall see. I know some things with absolute certainty, though: I want him to be well, in all senses. I want him to sleep, have peace, and be healthy. I want the same for myself, as I know he does for me. I need to eat more cheese and bread and he probably does, too. I pray for him daily, as he does me. I miss him. I want him. I need to keep working on me. As does he, himself. He ties a great Windsor knot as he did for me yesterday since I had come from work and needed a re-tie . . . 

Ready for work tomorrow!

We still know and get each other. It is my belief that more chapters will be written in our story. What they entail, well y'all, stay tuned. But I know food, good taste and honesty are all definitely in the picture.

Yours,

Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

No, I didn't eat the dog . . .

No, I didn't eat the dog.

She was too cute!!

My new friend Tootie . . . 

Late on a Friday night/Saturday morning! Doggie love is always good.

Yes, I kept hearing "The Jeffersons" theme song in my head.

Yesterday was funny. I woke up late because I slept too restlessly the night before. So I didn't have time for much fortification before work like I try to do - usually fruit and some kind of protein, at least cheese - and only had time for a quick snack before I was back for the dinner shift. You can imagine how upsetting it was when we were working, and a manager brought back an untouched platter of chicken and beef (skirt steak, y'all!!) fajitas that someone didn't like for some reason, and instead of throwing it out per protocol - we waste too much food, just sayin' - and let us have it . . .and I made a small "taco" with meat and a little guac - which was GONE when I came back three minutes later after helping someone else run food to a table. I had one bite.

Sigh.

Who eats someone else's bitten-into taco? Obviously, someone I work with at The Restaurant.

Anyhoo, I finished a bit before my girlfriend E, co-owner of the dog in said picture, and we went out after work. She got some kind of crazy burger at the place we like to go across the street. I had a few fries.

All this made me think  . . . do you eat late-night if you haven't eaten - or nothing available sounds good - or do you just chalk it up to something like "Oh well, I will deal with it tomorrow?" . . .do you think such a question is kind of weird and it doesn't make any sense to you?

I am the I'll-deal-with-it-tomorrow type and this morning this girl was (kind of) hungry and willing to eat (sort of). So my solution was breakfast at a great spot . . .

Tuscano egg delight at Highland Bakery

. . . of which I ate maybe a quarter. It was delicious, don't get me wrong. But is there a point where you're too hungry to be hungry - or you just . . don't care?

I love E and I love my Mom, with whom I had said breakfast. But I couldn't eat (much). We went to the farmer's market after brunch so I have some good stuff I could make for dinner. Now the question is- will I? And if I do, the next question is - will I eat it or just take annoying, unprofessional pictures of it?

Food for thought (and more questions). . .

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Nachos, Heartbreak and a White Chocolate Truffle . . .

Nachos, Heartbreak and a White Chocolate Truffle...

How are these things all related? Read on, and you will learn.

I work in a Mexican restaurant (I usually refer to it as The Restaurant around here, just for propriety and anonymity's sake) yet I rarely eat Mexican food there. I love it, don't get me wrong, and I truly love the food (with the exception of two things, one being the chile relleno - gross!) at The Restaurant. But either a) we're too busy to eat between shifts, b) I don't like rice and beans, which is what servers can grab for free in a pinch, or c) by the time I'm done with a shift, particularly a double, I'm too freaking tired to eat. And I've yet to go in on a day off, though I've won enough contests (our managers like to do little "games" each day to motivate the servers - more on that topic later...) and the reward for winning those is usually a $10 or $20 gift card to use. I've got a bunch stored up. Yeah, I'm that good.

And, the Sweet Man and I used to eat at The Restaurant before The Great Demise. We ate out a lot and had our regular places; this was one on the semi-regular rotation. But we always had our order down - an order of beef fajitas for one and an order of veggie fajitas for one, to share. See, the skirt steak is So Good and the veggies are So Good in the veggie fajitas - zucchini, squash, portabello mushrooms and the like... - and the servings are huge; an order for one of each was more than enough to feed us. So, it's hard for me sometimes to keep my game face on and recommend this fave combination to a guest, despite how much I know they'll enjoy it; memories intrude.

And anyone who read my last post knows I've been struggling with food stuff. What's a girl to do with all these conundrums??

Make food at home when she has the night off, of course!!

And what sounded good tonight? Nachos, I kid you not. I'm at the point where I try to focus on eating a) at all, b) healthily and c) whatever sounds good so I'll actually eat it.

And tonight it was this . . .

CN's Special Nachos, pre-cheesing...

And the finished product . . .

And the finished version: avocado, tomato, chicken and my special cheese blend!

I actually ate most of them. And it was really good.

I got a text message after dinner that made me smile; I found some pictures that didn't. Enter the "heartbreak" quotient.

I decided to have a truffle for dessert - he gave me some last Easter and I liked the white chocolate ones best. I buy a different brand now, but I still like them.

I work a double tomorrow at The Restaurant, so I tell myself I'll work it all off . . . all . . . we will see, right?

Food - love - work . . .it's all, always, there, isn't it??

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

When Food Isn't Love . . .

When Food Isn't Love...

Well. Y'all. Where to start?

Some of you know me as the Foodie Girl who writes about restaurants, loves to eat out and enjoys dining from high to low and commenting on it. I've certainly been spoiled by myself and the Sweet Man especially, among other boyfriends, as far as my dining habits of the last five or so years. My current work in the restaurant world has largely grown out of how I cottoned to being in such places, learning about what I like, what's new, what I might want to try or recommend to others . . .

Some of you, however, know me as the Girl Who Has Eating Issues (from way back, 20+ years now) and may also know that when I am busy or most particularly stressed - I don't eat. I always recognize and appreciate good food and well-plated dishes - from the simplest taco or burger to the fanciest dish of you-name-it - but I struggle to be able to take it in, for real.

Do I understand the physical need for calories? Of course. Do I want to be healthy? Yes. Do I remember what it was like to be anorexic (and a varsity athlete) from 14 to 17 and eat an apple a day, with my diet pills and Diet Coke? Oh, yes. Do I remember what it was like to be bulimic in spurts, interspersed with the anorexia or anorexic behavior? The cool tile of the linoleum floor is forever imprinted on my brain.

I think part of why I got into the "food" world (beyond the fact that I entertained clients back in the day when I was in insurance sales then started eating out on my own after my divorce) was to try to heal myself. And it's opened up all kinds of horizons and vistas - from my semester in Rome, which I picked because you just can't tell an Italian chef that you want sauce on the side or any such silly Buckhead girl thing, to my current appreciation for everything from sushi to frog legs and of course, really good cheese! - and I am grateful for the strides I have made.

Yet. 

I still revert to ancient habits. I have to make myself think of food in colors - What have I had today? What do I need? How many bites can I make myself take?

Here's the real issue: when I was 15 or even 25 - "getting skinny" delighted me. Heck, it's still nice. Any girl who doesn't admit to liking (or having) her skinny jeans is lying. But now it worries me - I'm not sure that at 5'8" I should be able to wear my size four Marc Jacob pants that I wore the year I got divorced (they aren't as loose as then but still . . .). Especially if it's because I'm on my feet six to fourteen hours a day at work and barely have (or find) time to eat . . . How do I better cope with stress, anger, grief, what have you? How do I get past my very long-standing coping mechanism of denial-and-skinny-jeans-are-good??

I don't really know. Down twenty or so pounds in recent months and struggling to find a balance - right now, food is not love. It should be - it is supposed to be. Food should be and represent nourishment, life and joy. 

It shouldn't be the enemy.

Food for thought.

Thinking about what's for dinner . . .

Yours,
Love Bites,

Carrie Neal

Taco Me, Baby

These days, I am an expert on most things Mexican. Fajitas? 'Ritas? Swirls? (Do you know what a Swirl is? If not, come see me at The Restaurant and find out - I bet you'll like it!) My current area of expertise, y'all.

The new job has been a most welcome and needed distraction from the state of my heart - isn't it funny how that axiom about one door closing and all that is so very true? - and despite the temporary set back of a broken bone in my foot, I've proven to be off to a successful start.

Here's what I've realized - I might have found a home, career-wise. Y'all know how much I enjoy food and eating at restaurants, and most of you know I've dabbled in working at a number of them over the last few years, but this is the first time I feel like this could really be my next career. There's something about this company that just - fits. Not since I started in the insurance business have I felt as comfortable in a setting and with the people as I do now. Working as a server is hard - and doing it wearing a button down dress shirt and tie (in summer!) is not so awesome - and most days I feel a bit like this . . .

After ten or so hours serving food, even the simplest taco looks like the Holy Grail!

But, something has clicked. They're looking at me for potential management and I'm already getting more and better shifts and working my way up through the different levels of server certification. I have felt at ease and confident more quickly here than at any other restaurant where I've worked - I just get it. There is a very specific way of doing things at The Restaurant and sure, sometimes that can be a little "much," but it makes sense to me. Management was great to me with my foot situation and got me back on as a hostess then onto the floor as soon as I was ready, and since it was only a few weeks into the job for me I really appreciated that. 

I actually do love Mexican food and our food is really great, so it makes it easy selling a good product. Some days are better than others - isn't that the case with any job, from CEO to bus boy? - and I'm certainly still learning the ropes. But from the folks I've clicked with at work (my Gay Boyfriends are fascinated with my current dating life as well as dying to know about my recent break up but I'm keeping them wondering for now about all of that . . .) to the fun I'm having with customers, even on our infamous Taco Tuesdays (Want to see a mad house? Come see us for $1 tacos every Tuesday and watch the melee!), I'm doing well and finding joy.

So on this much-needed day off (working 23 of 30 hours will do that to a girl!), I'm reflecting on what tacos et al could mean for me, more than just for sustenance. Here's looking forward to great things ahead - come see me soon!

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Birthday Girl

Well, Happy Birthday to ME!

It's been awhile since I've posted and a lot - a LOT - has changed in Carrie Neal Land . . . 

Love Bites has meant a whole smorgasbord of different things over the last six weeks since I last checked in with y'all . . . from artichoke love to heartbreak, from daily cooking at home to working in a restaurant again, from last year's whirlwind birthday celebration in NYC to this year's - contemplative - festivities . . .

August 3 is always a Big Deal for this girl. Originally, it was like this . . .

Then later . . .

Ashy and me at the Ritz - how '80s are we here??

This . . .

17th Birthday Girl

Or this . . .

My 18th Birthday Surprise Party!

Or one year, this . . .

My parents at my 2002 wedding birthday!

And last year, it was this . . .

Ok, not really us, but it felt like that . . .

This . . .

The Real Us, on my whirlwind surprise trip to NYC.

And even this . . . 

 

He remembered the special place Dad took me on my 13th birthday trip to NYC . . .

So, yeah, my birthday has always been a big day in my world. This year, though, it's kind of rough. It's not the age - shh! if you know the number, you know, and if you don't, I'm not telling! - it's the situation. 

See, I am re-building - and re-cooking - my life. In the past six weeks, I've gotten a new job (more to follow about Mexican food very soon!), broken up with the Sweet Man, moved and dealt with death and other personal issues. So I've been busy.

And emotional. "Let them eat cake" is excellent advice from Marie Anotinette as far as certain people are concerned; "Now is the time for guts and guile" is another, for myself, courtesy of Elizabeth Taylor.

But this girl still makes sure there are fleurs on her birthday . . .

I will always make sure to get my own flowers if need be!

eggs for breakfast, and love to be appreciated. There may not be big parties or passionate kisses this year, but it's still my day.

Like I said, Happy Birthday to ME! Looking forward to the new year ahead.

Yours,

Love Bites,

Carrie Neal