Sweet Pecan & Coconut Key Lime Pie

Sweet Pecan & Coconut Key Lime Pie

I have never been into baking. And I’m actually not all that much of a sweets person beyond fruit or the occasional treating myself over the counter at a real boulangerie. However, something’s up with this summer season and citrus. I can’t get enough, in all sorts of applications. I got a persistent little bug in my bonnet last week that kept saying, “key lime pie…key lime PIE!” I do really love key lime pie. I used to eat a key lime pie a week when I was pregnant with my daughter, and remnants of that craving from 14 years ago has curiously crept back. So I decided to take a leap and whip up my version of a raw key lime pie. Best of all, it was a cinch to make! And apparently it didn’t turn out half bad, because it was all gone in one evening.

American Native 100% Organic Pecans

I’ve had these AMAZING little pecans in my pantry that I ordered from Sunfood Nutrition back in May. The only pecans that could possibly be better than these little gems are ones I had picked from the tree myself. They are smaller and sweeter than most pecans available at grocery stores, smell like maple syrup, and make an absolutely perfect pie crust.

Pie Crust:

2 1/2 cups pecans, soaked for 3 hours and drained well (American Native brand highly recommended)
1 tbs coconut butter + extra for tart pan
3 tbs vanilla infused maple syrup, OR 3 tbs maple syrup plus 1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbs agave nectar
a pinch of sea salt

Blend all ingredients in food processor until a crumbly, bread crumb consistency is achieved. In a 9 1/2″ tart pan with removable bottom, use your hands to completely “grease” bottom and sides with a thin layer of coconut butter. Using a small spatula, spoon in pie crust mixture and evenly and firmly press it into the pan, taking special care with the sides and making sure crust is an even thickness all the way around. Dehydrate at 110 degrees for 24 hours, or you can use oven on lowest setting with door slightly ajar for 12-18 hours.

pie crust

Filling:

3 cups coconut meat (from approximately 5 young coconuts)
1/4 to 1/2 cup almond cream* (see below)
1/3 cup key lime juice
1/4 cup agave nectar
2 vanilla beans, scraped
1 tbs coconut butter
1 tsp lecithin
a pinch of sea salt

Carefully pulse then blend all ingredients in a vita-mixer. Add almond cream, in stages, until a thick, pudding or shake-like consistency is achieved. The filling should not be so thick you cannot see it blending when looking down into it, but it should also not be too liquid. Pour the filling into the tart pan once the crust has been dehydrated and spread evenly. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours so that the filling sets. Garnish with thin slices of key lime and mint sprigs. Carefully remove pie from the sides of the tart pan by pushing bottom up slowly, and serve.

*Make almond cream by blending 1 cup soaked almonds, 2 cups cold water, 1/8 cup agave, and a pinch of sea salt. Drain through a nut milk bag.

<3, JMK

Super Antioxidant Summer Fruit Salad

Super Antioxidant Summer Fruit Salad

as part of Julie’s Summer Salad Series…

This simple, refreshing, colorful, super-nutritious fruit salad is packed with antioxidants and vitamin C. A squeeze of lime juice and a fine chiffonade of mint gives it a delicious kick of brightness. Pomegranate seeds, in lieu of raspberries, also work very well when they’re in season.

Makes 6-8 generous servings. Simply combine 5 pitted and cubed mangoes; 6 kiwis - peeled, sliced into rounds, and then sliced in half; 1 pint blueberries; 1 pint raspberries; about 2 tablespoons fresh mint cut into a fine chiffonade; and a squeeze of fresh lime juice. Toss gently in a large bowl and serve!

<3, JMK

Large serving bowl

Olé-Olé Pepper Party Salad with Lime & Avocado

Olé-Olé Pepper Party Salad with Lime & Avocado

as part of Julie’s Summer Salad Series…

The hot weather calls for refreshing dishes, and this salad includes a sensational way to incorporate citrus in your salad. In fact, it’s my new thing…paper thin slices of citrus like lime, lemons, and oranges lend a unique “pop” in flavor. And the entire slice is edible, peel and all, so long as you use a mandoline and make sure it is on the thinnest slice setting, you needn’t worry about bitterness or an overpowering sour bite. I highly recommend purchasing a hand-held Japanese mandoline. They are an inexpensive, practical alternative to their fancier French counterparts.

This salad incorporates a delicious contrast of a variety of pungent peppers with a spicy warmth, the sweetness of grape tomatoes, cooling avocado, and tangy lime. I use baby bell peppers for their milder, sweeter flavor than the full grown variety, poblanos and cubanelles for their unique bite, and serranos for heat. Use any combination of available peppers and adjust the heat to your liking. In addition to an awesomely yummy salad, bell peppers have 5 times the vitamin C of oranges!

Serves 2 side salads or one large serving.

1 cubanelle pepper thinly sliced into rings
4 to 5 baby bell peppers in assorted colors, chopped
1 small poblano, chopped
handful of sweet grape tomatoes, sliced lengthwise
1 serrano or jalepeño pepper finely minced (adjust spiciness to taste)
1 Haas avocado peeled, pitted and cubed
1 green onion, finely chopped into rings
handful fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely minced
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp ground cumin
about 5 paper-thin mandoline sliced lime rounds, plus extra for garnish
big handful salad greens of choice
lime juice
really good extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Slicing limes with a Japanese mandoline

Put all peppers, cherry tomatoes, garlic, ground cumin and coriander, and a good sprinkling of sea salt in medium sized bowl and gently toss. Set aside.

In separate large bowl, put avocado cubes, chopped green onion, a squeeze of lime juice, and a sprinkling of sea salt, and gently toss. Then add in the pepper mixture. Gently toss once more to combine. Add a sprinkling more sea salt, and the chopped cilantro. Slice 5 of the lime rounds in half before adding to the bowl. Gently toss once more.

Pepper mixture

Arrange the salad greens on a large plate. Carefully top with the pepper and avocado mixture. Finish with a drizzling of extra virgin olive oil and a final seasoning of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Garnish with a few extra lime rounds.

Stay tuned for more upcoming scrumptious, citrus-accented salads!

<3, JMK

Gone to the Med, Day 3: A Flash of Venice

A canal and a gondola

See more photos of our time in Venice on Flickr!

Wednesday, June 18: This is freakin surreal! Finally we’ve made it to Venice, going into our third day of travel with very little sleep, and worried all along if we’d get here with a boat still waiting for us. Throughout our in-route ordeal, I made several calls to Oceania’s emergency hotline to update them on our whereabouts and ETA. Even though they tried to be reassuring and said not to worry, it was little consolation. It’s funny though. The port authority security agent already knew our names before we gave him our passports, so I’ve got to give the cruise line kudos for watching out for us. However, I can’t say the same for Continental Airlines. Our bags did not arrive at the Marco Polo airport, there is no tracking information available yet, and now there is another airline, KLM, involved. I suppose we should be happy to have made it to Venice.

Yes, it’s a relief to be here, yet a disappointment that we’ve missed a whole day of experience especially considering how incredibly gorgeous it is here. I swear I feel like I have been transported into a postcard or a movie. Arriving to the ship roughly around 1:00 pm gave us enough time to run around for just a few hours before departing for Croatia at 5:00.

The Insignia is very nice, very casual-elegant. It’s kind of like a scaled-down version of the Queen Mary, especially when you factor in the more “mature” clientele. I like its quaintness and boutique size, less than 500 total passengers. In other words, this is not your mega-sized Royal Caribbean or Carnival Cruise Line floating frat party cruise.

The Insignia, docked at San Basilio

We have a lovely suite on Deck 7 with a terrace that faces off the rear of the ship. There is even a personal butler assigned to us, a young Russian guy named Pavel. He is tall and thin with dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a bit of an austere, stiff demeanor. When I answered his first knock at the door, I was a little frightened (but not too much), as he immediately reminded me of like, a young “Lurch” from the Addam’s Family. I wanted him to say, “You raaaaang?” Eventually, he did crack a smile and began assisting us with settling in to our suite in the most cordial way possible. We like Pavel.

Pavel the butler

My feet are swollen, blistered, and probably sprained and permanently deformed from the 4 inch wedges they have molted into these past 3 days. The first order of business while in Venice was finding a shoe store to get some FLAT, airy sandals. And I didn’t even care if they were ugly. Oh yea, but not before stopping at one of the many cafes lining the sidewalks. George and I were starving, and so anxious to get our first tastes of authentic Italian food.

The cafe, not far from San Basilio where the ship was docked, wasn’t just great for its food. It symbolized our very first moments of true relaxation. It was situated right out on the wide and busy Canale Della Giudecca, a main passage for all boat and ship traffic. The views were picturesque, the weather was in the perfect mid to upper 70’s range. Not too hot, not too cool. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the gentle breeze was soothing and caressing to our exhausted, aching bodies.

Lots of tourists made their way up and down the sidewalks, cameras clicking and heads rolling all around among their shoulders as they gazed at lovely old Venetian architecture. Watching the boats and ships going down the canal was like watching an aquatic version of a freeway - everything passing by from row boats and gondolas to huge Greek ferries and cruise ships. There was a buzzing water taxi station just next door that shuttled commuters like a busy bus stop in a major metropolis. But despite all the action, it was actually quiet quiet and peaceful, as if the water surrounding this charming little city absorbed any otherwise stressfully offensive noise pollution and recycled it into a unique, relaxing ambiance. George and I sat in silence for some time, probably in part conscious meditation and part exhaustion. We spoke only to order from the waiter, and to point out periodic observations.

Watching a Greek ferry pass by in the Canale Della Giudecca

I was very happy to get a real, Italian meal after 2 and half days of shifty airline and airport provisions and scavenging snacks with any hint of nutritional value. I had one bite of a “breakfast” aboard the KLM flight from Amsterdam to Venice this morning and immediately spit it into my napkin. The funkified aftertaste still lingers somewhere around my palette. I was too tired to be picky, and when I looked at the menu it may have well been a three Michelin star rated venue. I could barely conjure up energy to be impressed with the heading of one menu page, “Crudite - Raw Menu”. I smiled and read down the page, not being surprised that it had nothing to do with the American raw food diet, and, to be expected, it was a collection of salads, ceviches, and carpaccios.

Zucchini flower salad at Venice cafe.

After lunch, we went to the water taxi station next door to the cafe, and tried to figure out how we’d best spend our two whole hours remaining in Venice. St. Mark’s Square was the natural choice as tourists knowing little else about Venice, plus our original plans to see the Jewish ghetto or head over to the neighboring islands of Murano and Burano were nixed. San Marino is the neighborhood of St. Mark’s Square, and where the water taxi drops you off, AND it is tourist central, like something I rarely see outside of high season at Disney World. Crowds and crowds and crowds of tourists (and as many pigeons), most seemingly American. By the time we got there, I cared less about seeing St. Mark’s and more about getting some flat sandals and some disposable cameras, since the Nikon battery died taking the last few shots of boats from the cafe.

Yes, crowds and crowds and crowds of tourists in St. Mark's Square.

Well, I did eventually find a pair of sandals - not Gucci, but not hideously ugly. And we’re packing two disposable cameras - a little sickening to rely on being in such a lovely, photogenic area. We did our fast pass through some alley ways, saw some gondolas, breezed through the famous Hotel Danieli, shoveled our way through crowds making their way to St. Mark’s Basilica, snapped some quick photos, and had just enough time to sprint back to the water taxi and return to the cruise ship.

George is taking a shower. I am laying on the bed, a pretty comfortable one, existing on some alternate source of energy that is unexplainable. Pavel, sympathetic to our luggage-less, travel fiasco, suggested that we relax and order dinner into our cabin this evening from any of the ship’s fine dining restaurants. That sure sounds good to me. I think I’m going to sleep very well tonight. And I can’t wait to check out Dubrovnik tomorrow.

<3, JMK

Gone to the Med, Days 1 & 2: In-Route Madness

We are sorry for the inconvenience...eat some airport food!

June 17 or 18th-ish: Sometimes it doesn’t matter how well you prepare yourself, how well-packed you are, how early you arrive. If you’re at the mercy of the airlines and their flight schedules (or lack thereof), anything can happen.

I’m somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, about halfway to Amsterdam according to the in-flight navigation screen. I just woke from a two-hour nap after dinner service. All of my raw food carry-on survival items have been long consumed, as of course it was not in the planning to be stranded for a whole extra day. The meal wasn’t half bad though, as utterly grotesque and frightening as airline food can be. I ate my mixed green salad, warm nuts, some cheeses and crackers, a few bites of mushroom ravioli. Over my shoulder, the whole “Business First” cabin is sound asleep, except for George, who is playing in-flight Texas Hold-Em, some guy across the isle pounding down little bottles of scotch, and me. It’s only 10:00 pm on Tuesday evening by what my watch and brain thinks is Eastern standard time, but realistically it’s 4:00 am on Wednesday where I’m going, and will be landing in just a few short hours to a new day.

In-flight dinner salad

When we left Orlando Monday morning, little did we know that we’d be joining thousands of travelers whose flights got completely jacked by tumultuous weather which seemed to be all over the mainland United States. We had some shady signs of travel hell from the moment we arrived at Continental’s ticket counter upon check-in. Ironically, this time we were nearly 2 hours early for our flight, rather than the typical last minute sprinting to the jet way just as they’re closing the door. We were looking forward to this trip and anticipated relaxation and wanted it to begin just as soon as possible. No rushing, no stressing, no sweating over last-minute details. Besides, George and I like being in airports. These days, a lot of them are like going to the mall, or indoor urban biospheres.

A nice lady at the ticket counter began the check-in process by tagging our oversized bags and logging in our passports. Then came a perplexed look as she glanced alternately from our itinerary and then to her computer screen. “I don’t understand this,” she said. “Hmmm. Something’s not right.” With that she picked up the desk phone and rang someone who seemed to perplex her even more. “ Mmm hmm. Yes. Oh, my. Really? Oh.” She turned her back to us to finish the conversation discretely, as if she were shielding us from some classified information. And then, turning back to us again, she hung up the receiver and gave us the news, “I’m sorry, your connecting Alitalia flight from Milan to Venice seems to have been cancelled. They may have gone on strike. They do it all the time,” she chuckled. Oh well. It wasn’t the end of the world. Milan is a mere 150 miles from Venice. It would be an easy and lovely drive along a straight-shoot west to east highway. We probably should have just planned it that way in the first place.

So we leisurely strolled on toward the gate, catching an update along the way from the departures screen in the terminal. Departure time to Newark, where we’d be catching our connection to Milan, was postponed 30 minutes due to thunderstorms in the New York area. And then, 30 more minutes….not good. We finally boarded an hour and a half after scheduled departure, only to sit on the plane for another hour and a half at the gate. By now, it wasn’t the New York weather thorning in our sides. In classic Florida summertime style, the great wrath of Mother Nature ensued with a thunderstorm so intense, the airport was shut down. Fabulous. Now there was no way we would be on that flight to Milan.

Flying between thunderstorm clouds near Orlando. Can you say turbulence!

This was all quite nerve-wracking to say the least. We had a boat to catch out of Venice, a boat that we paid a lot of money for, not to mention the fact that we had looked forward to being on, for nearly a year now. Being faced with the reality that we would miss our most important connection, which, being trans-Atlantic would no doubt mean a once (twice at the most) a day occurance, I had visions of us arriving in Venice a day, or minutes too late. I saw the Insignia pulling away without us, George and I running frantically after it screaming “Wait! Waaaait!!” as happy passengers waved bon voyage to us. Oh, this was not a very comforting vision.

Once we arrived in New Jersey, things did not get anymore reassuring. In all my years of flying, I have had nothing less than nightmarish experiences with EWR airport. In my book, it is jinxed and should be avoided at all costs, and unfortunately this time around was no exception. Once we stepped foot into the terminal and began our quest as to what to do next, complete airport pandemonium was all that seemed to meet us. Every person gave us different information, different options, or no options at all. It was entirely too crazy and too lengthy of a soap opera to even compose in a sane, unfrustrated manner.

We finally found our way into Continental’s Presidential Lounge, where we were greeted by a kind, intelligent woman named Veronica who took pity on us and worked quite vehemently to get us on another flight without losing our upgrades, and get us to Venice on time.

Veronica, Continental's angel agent, and me. We LOVE Veronica.

The end result to all this madness was a handful of meal-vouchers, an overnight stay in a cigarette-stinky hotel room in Newark, and a re-route the following day through Amsterdam. Bottom line? We should make the cruise ship just hours before it leaves Venice, IF our KLM connection is not delayed. Even though we lost an entire day of sightseeing, I suppose we should just be glad to be getting there in a potentially timely manner.

Wednesday, June 18th: Wow, what an airport Amsterdam has. It’s HUGE! And what a pretty countryside.  So green, and the trees are perky and symmetrical.  I saw some windmills from the airplane window.  How quintessentially Dutch.

I’m tired. My Apepazza wedges, once a favorite pair of shoes, are now ones that I don’t ever want to see again any time soon. They have worn blisters through the randomly placed band-aids on my feet that are now peeling off. My calves hurt from being in the tippy toe position for way too long. Like a raw food survival kit, wedges are not designed for more than a few hours of trucking through airports. And let me just emphasize again that Amsterdam’s airport is HUGE.

By the way, our luggage is no where to be found. We were supposed to have claimed our bags through customs before re-checking and boarding this KLM flight to Venice. But they never showed up. The agents said it’s possible they were loaded on a later flight from Newark, which was to arrive just two hours after ours, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. It’s nice to have this amazing scenery outside my window to keep me distracted. The Austrian Alps are just beautiful, far more plush and dimensional it seems, than when flying over the Grand Canyon or the Rockies. Wow, I would love to be down there…

Austrian Alps from my window...click to see more on Flickr

<3, JMK

Notes from a Post-Traveled Swimming Brain

Organic food counter at Marcat de la Boqueria - Barcelona, Spain

Sunday, July 6: It’s 4:08 am from what I can read on the DVD player’s digital clock display across my bedroom out of a squinted eyeball. Being awake right now must be a product of jet-lag, because after nearly 24 hours of trains, planes, and automobiles yet retiring for the night just 4 hours ago, I shouldn’t even be conscious. And I am not going back to sleep.

Like a Viewmaster on rapid slide-show mode, thousands of images from my trip around the Med over the past 3 weeks flicker frenzily behind my eyelids. My mind and spirit being is not yet home. I’m still abroad, feeding the ducks while fused in my cafe chair in Portofino, or getting excited for the evening’s tapas and pica-pica in Barcelona. And I don’t really want to be back home. Between each image frame, my brain is also trying to figure out how to hold on to it all, how to hold all I’ve learned and loved close to me and apply it back to the home base here in Orlando. I shouldn’t be surprised. I make no bones about my certain loathing of Orlando, especially within the restaurant and food supply departments. So this phenomenon tends to occur after every significant, longer term trip, especially if it involves Europe. However, this time it seems to be a little more potent, a bit more significant.

There is some slight conflict. Let’s call it a mid-life gastro-crisis. Although, a crisis it should not be, because according to the places I came from, the answers seem so simple. Most tellingly, my body also was submissively and instinctively in agreement. There was no reason at all for me to worry when I was without a magic bullet or dried seaweed or raw nuts, lost in my checked luggage for nine days. It quickly occurred to me that these were items that, perhaps, I had become a little too unnecessarily dependent upon. The mind has some very tricky ways of playing “psyche!” on you, especially when you’ve become accustomed to control freakish measures to protect your own health.

Unlike America, a very nouveau nation of very new traditions, Europe is deeply rooted in thousands of years of history, lifestyle, and customs. This of course, includes the rituals of diet, dining, fresh and local foods, socializing, enjoying life, all of which are synonymous. Food and drink and the philosophies by which it is consumed result in a means to truly savour it all and be healthy. This is European lifestyle (not to mention same for many other cultures), particularly when you’re talking France, Spain, and Italy - notoriously gastronomic kingdoms.

The United States, by contrast, has her own very lovely traditions in food and its importance in social and familial bonding that were born long before fast food chains, factory farms, and manufactured food. It is a downright tragedy to sit front row witnessing the retardation of this nation’s quality of life and food and inadvertently, our health. I was blessed to have been born to a family that well understood the joys and importance of home cooking, family meals, and culinary tradition as we had our own, and there’s no doubt that these instillations are largely responsible for my fond obsession with gastronomy and foodie-ism today.

Growing up both on the west and southeast coasts of Florida, I learned to bait a hook practically as soon as I learned to walk, thanks to my father. At the ripe ol’ age of three, I remember him bringing home coolers of fresh oysters that he and his friends had just collected from Tampa Bay, and I would eat them as fast as they could shuck ‘em into my mouth, gaped open like a little bird. My parents always had dinner parties, always with the best food and ingredients and company. I loved being in the kitchen in the middle of it all coming together. The cooking phase was just as important of a social event as the sit down part.

My grandparents on my father’s side, Me-ma and Pe-pa, had deep southern roots (my Grandmother had an uncanny resemblance to Paula Deen) and again, the practice of dining was not just sitting down to eat, it was an event. This is still the case when I have visits with Dad. My Pe-pa, a World War II vet, had a gig as a chef at a popular spot on MacDill Air Force Base where servicemen would congregate for home cooked meals and a cold beer in the evenings. And when he’d come home from his day shifts just in time for dinner, he’d put on his tall white chef’s hat just for me. I thought it was the neatest thing. I miss Me-ma and Pe-pa. They were like my surrogate parents and they taught me so much.

This kind of reflecting seems to always happen more intensely as you lie awake in the night, the room dark and still. Such a rapid trip of memories, questions, projections….analyzations! My mind is a flood. But I love it. I feel like I’ve been fed a great big exciting spoon of life candy and I’m slowly chewing, savouring all kinds of flavors and sensations. At the end of every trip and every travel, something in me changes. And I always want more. It’s insatiable. Traveling is food. Food for my soul. . .and I can never predict exactly what it will taste like. But most of the time it’s the best thing I’ve ever tried and always gets better.

<3, JMK

A Hello and a Check-In

Restaurant sign in Dubrovnik, Croatia

It’s hard to believe that in less than two days on July 1, we will disembark from our two week journey aboard the Insignia. The time has gone so fast, yet it feels like a lifetime since I’ve been home. Experiencing all of these different countries, provinces, cities, ports, and coast lines has been nothing short of incredible, some more dynamically so than others. Naturally, I have a lot of information and photographs to sort through before chronicling it all out in reader-friendly form.

Just as I figured, an excursion such as this can be planned but can never be predictable. This has been the case for us in many ways, from having no luggage for nine days to the magnificent new landscapes we wake up to each morning. My blogging intentions were also thrown a bit as I never anticipated just how on-the-go we would be and of course, some of my crucial camera equipment was in lost luggage. This was a very different sort of travel event in contrast to the Europe I have visited in the past. And, through this trip and those prior, I can certainly surmise the following little lessons:

• Never take anyone’s word 100% for a place you’ve never been. Every person has their own unique perceptions.
• Always pack extra underwear, an outfit or two if you can swing it, and survival toiletries in your carry-on bag in the event your checked bags don’t make it on the flight (especially true when traveling internationally).
• Traveling always humbly reminds you of what you don’t know.
• Don’t assume everyone else understands your needs, customs, or speaks English. You’re on their turf. Have some respect.
• More to the last point. When it comes to dietary needs, do the best you can. In a lot of European countries, the raw food diet is virtually unheard of. Don’t take it out on the waiter at the café.
• I really need to consider getting my own laptop. I don’t like sharing with my husband.

The end of our cruise on Tuesday will bring us to Barcelona, Spain, where we will spend the next several days. While we will inevitably continue some sightseeing, George has some business to attend to and I can start transcribing all my handwritten notes and organizing photos. I look forward to staying in one place for a few seconds and catching my breath!

<3, JMK

Bon Voyage to all My Friends (and FLIES)

Warning: This post is loaded with vented steam of a highly personal nature topped off with some choice word cherry bombs.

For the next few weeks, I foresee this blog becoming more of a travel journal. That’s all fine and dandy with me because food, travel, and lifestyle are synonymous in my book. During this unpredictable fantastical journey, I plan to round up some serious inspiration, learn a few things, and maybe even relax in the hopes of repairing millions of this past year’s stress-damaged brain cells.

Not in this particular order, I shall be off to see:

• Italy: Venice, Sorrento/Capri, Amalfi Coast/Positano, Rome/Civitavecchia, Portoferraio/Elba, Florence, Pisa
• Croatia: Dubrovnik
• Greece: Corfu
• Monaco: Monte Carlo
• France: Provence/Marseille
• Spain: Palma deMallorca, Barcelona

To say that I’m excited for today’s departure is an understatement. For you see, this trip has been over one year in the making and I’ve been systematically counting down each day. It’s become a loaded event that ironically came to launch at a time when certain business matters-turned-personal are now surmounting to their proverbial heads.

The whole idea of this excursion consists of a little bit of belated honeymoon, a little bit of business, and now a little bit a lot of both my middle fingers and shiny white booty waving off at those evil-eyed pricksters (and you know who you are) who’ve attempted to shit on my family and my children in the worst ways possible over this past year, all beneath the guise of “business differences”. They key word here is attempted.

To you all, I say fuck off and good riddance. Only the Universe, the only entity that we answer to, can create judgments which are always based upon truth and karma. Humans make mistakes and we have sure made our own, but none will ever be rectified nor forgotten when foolish, miserable jacktards can’t look past the tips of their own noses to see it all means NOTHING, except for the irreparable consequences, time lost, and energy expended for pointless, unrecoverable bullshit. It’s like flies around a picnic table: always looking for something to land on, they’re temporarily annoying, they never last long, yet in the big scheme of things, do no real damage.

While we’re getting on with our lives in the most uninterrupted way possible, sadly you ass-clowns will still be festering in your own spiteful, malicious juices. You’ll still be thinking of who to blame for your distorted self-entitled egos based on how the world and everyone in it has done you wrong, and how you’re owed something. And it doesn’t matter to you how, or who you hurt in the process, of going about getting it. It’s insane, and pathetically the way it always has been, and probably always will be.

I have learned that there’s a fine line between coveting and hatred. Those who covet most typically are the haters, the people who want what they perceive you have yet hate you for having it. Horrifically, they could be members of your own family, your best friend, or the guy across the street. They’re like parasites and scavengers, the first to suck up to you good and chummy when times are good and the milking is a plenty, only to turn you out and rip from your guts at the first sign of weakness or an open wound, and then run off cackling like shifty hyenas.

I know this is a loaded post which, other than the specifics of my aforementioned travels, has no relevance to my forum itself. I know my words probably sound harsh to those who have no idea to whom I’m addressing, but there comes a time when a person’s had enough. I like to believe in humanity and in people, for it’s my nature to give the benefit of the doubt even whilst gaining reality lessons that aren’t such smooth pills to swallow.

With that said, herein is my point: No one will break my spirit, nor George’s, nor my family’s EVER. We will NOT change our lifestyle. Nothing that can be said or done will hinder us from getting on with our lives, and our business. We will never stop living our dreams, because our dreams will always belong to us, not to be destroyed or taken by anyone. We will always be achieving, and I gladly plan to continue using my voice on behalf of us all, by whatever means necessary.

As time elapses, the fool’s beef that will have faded into oblivion will inevitably leave behind unnecessarily permanent consequences. In one, two, three years from now when hindsight has become its clearest and there’s nothing left to do or say, it better have been all worth it. Because my family will be shining greater than ever before, and you dickwads will more than likely still be sitting around moping in your shitholes talking trash, looking for the next gripe, the next fight, the next pissing match. You know who you are.

So while I’m in Europe, soaking in the fortuitous experience to which I’m destined to partake, I’ll be looking forward to sharing all I’ve seen and done with my friends and family back at home through this blog. And to anyone who may be reading with ill-intentions and cocked eyes, read every word I say nice and slowly, bend over, and shove it all up your fat arses and out through your noses. I’ll be toasting a nice big glass of Super Tuscan to YOU. Cheers!

<3, JMK

The Eco-Foodie-ism Movement

Traveling gives me the opportunity to catch up on all my periodicals. Although it’s a bit ridiculous, sometimes this means flipping through back issues from 2007! I can’t help it. I am a magazine junkie. If you could only see my cabinet full of them - stacks and stacks of 18+ subscriptions, plus miscellaneous ones I pick up here and there. Not one will go unread though, and like a pack rat I’ll tear out and collect pages that serve the moment’s purposes. It’s my idea of fun in feeding my little think tank.

So during my recent Bahama trip, I came across the February issue of Bon Appetit. Better late than never, because I haven’t been this excited over a single culinary mag in some time. So much so I had to dedicate a whole blog post to it. As it reads from the cover, February has been designated as “the green issue/feel good food”. It connotes a simple summation of eco-friendly and health conscious foodie-ism that has been so eloquently making its way into the mainstream.

Finally, there are applications for the good of human health AND the planet that don’t freak out the average steak and potato Joes nor culinary snoots that tout the cruciality of a perfect foie gras. No longer are catch phrases like “farm-fresh”, “artisanal”, “organic”, “sustainable”, or even vegetarian limited to the health freaky radicals or hippie earth thumpers. This issue includes goodies like creative vegetarian recipes, mouth watering and inspiring photos, expert advice from “locavores” (people who only eat food grown and produced close to home), and lists of eco-friendly restaurants that have popped up around the country that would have the most pompous food critics aroused.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a raw foodie, vegan, vegetarian, or carni/omnivore, there’s something for everyone here with a few common denominators: eco-friendly cuisine that is both innovative and healthy. Every time I flipped the page, little bells would ring. It wasn’t just the content quality, it was that the whole idea really reconciled with my own ideas of eating right that are at the least, heading in the right direction for total food reform in this country. Bon Appetit wrapped it all up in a very embraceable, encouraging and inspiring package.

On page 24 I found “The Hot 10: The Best Eco-Friendly Restaurants”. To my delight, at number 1 was Chef Melissa Kelly’s Primo, of which I am a HUGE fan. Although the listing profiled its flagship Rockland, Maine location, I’m a frequent diner of the locale at the Orlando JW Marriott Grande Lakes. In my opinion, it’s one of Orlando’s few top restaurants, made particularly special by their on-premise organic garden and rustic yet refined country-fresh Italian fare. Just Friday night we went there, and I had a major freak-out because not only did they have ramps (a super-seasonal treat), they had fresh porcinis which is a true rarity in Orlando and overall in this country, for that matter. I asked them where they got these little gems, knowing they most likely wouldn’t give up their purveyor, and I was right on about that. Others on the top 10 list included: Firefly Grill, Effingham, IL; Hook, Washington D.C.; Ubuntu, Napa, CA; Cafe Cenizo, Marathon, TX; The Kitchen, Boulder, CO; La Provence, Lacombe, LA; Spoonriver, Minneapolis, MN; Blue Velvet, Los Angeles, CA; and Local Burger, Lawrence, KS.

On page 38, there’s an article, “How Del Posto Went Green”, profiling celebrity chef Mario Batali’s quest to “save the world, one meal at a time”, at least when it comes to the highest-end of his restaurant portfolio, Del Posto. And on page 76, “Why I’m Not a Vegetarian” by Molly Wizenberg chronicles her conversion as a youth to vegetarianism, veganism, and then back to everything-ism and all the events in between that have shaped her choices. There are two beautiful recipe editorials, “Our Planet, Our Table” and “The Earth-Friendly Dinner Party”, which combined with the rest of the issue, contain a number of recipes that are either raw, vegetarian, or vegan, or could be easily converted to each.

As far as my personal diet is concerned, my philosophy based on this past year of experimentation has been that hi-raw is best, but incorporating certain al dente prepared vegetables, whole grains, and small amounts of raw cheese works very well for me. While I strongly believe in certain dietary principles as it pertains to human health, I have never believed in a one-size-fits-all format. Even if you choose to eat meat, there are choices - free range and organic, local, farm-raised. It would be one glorious day to see the end of the factory farm. I give big kudos to Bon Appetit for putting together an issue that realistically and beautifully represents the changing not just of culinary direction, but in the way we think about our food, where it comes from, and the effects our choices have on this Earth.

<3, JMK

A Brief Bahama-vention

Bahama Sunset - See more photos on Flickr!

This incredible sunset photo represents much of what the Bahama islands mean to me: pristine, wondrous, relaxed, ethereal….beautiful. We have a long, blissful history oozing with some of my most dear and grateful memories. Every trip continues to create a new blessed experience.

These islands aren’t far from where I grew up in South Florida, so as the daughter of an avid boater and fisherman, the ocean became my playground just as quickly as I learned to walk. The Bahamas and the Florida Keys bore my fins, that is to say, it’s where I learned to swim, snorkel, and dive among a divine marine world that felt just as natural to me as walking through soft green grass.

The majority of my past lodgings in the Bahamas have been in the less inhabited out-islands, where I camped on boats in marinas, or anchored offshore, or in modest beach-side accommodations where you catch your own food and share the evening’s BBQ with the locals and fellow visitors alike. It’s my most preferred way to go, because that is the true rustic island experience.

However, this time around was more a touristy jaunt in a superficial environment, but that is certainly not to say I didn’t relish or enjoy it any less. It just seemed rather like going to Vegas set on a tropical island. But my stepdaughter just graduated from high school, turned eighteen, and is headed to college later this summer. This is how she chose to celebrate and be sent off, along with two of her closest friends. So where else would three teenagers amped for a party look to go? The Atlantis Hotel and Resort in Paradise Island, of course!

Atlantis Royal Towers

Atlantis is a landmark on Paradise Island, just across a bridge and a waterway from Nassau. The pink, towering monumental structure dominates the skyline as a sharp contrast to the flat green terrain. It’s been a few years since I’d been last and to my surprise the property has grown into added towers, swimming pools, marketplaces and attractions, just as fast and spectacularly as you’d expect on the Vegas strip. At first you can’t help but to be in awe of the impeccable theming and features that are of such mammoth proportions you feel like a wee, insignificant mortal in a land of great mythological Gods. The artistry and expense into creating such a complex is beyond impressive.

And what would a mega-resort be without famous chefs making their marks by stamping another one of their ever growing restaurant brands on property? The Cove, the newest tower that is by far most chic and caters to the VIP and celebrity crowd, is home to Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill. Back off the casino in Atlantis’ main tower is Nobu, whose NYC location was made famous by Nobuyuki Matsuhisa and Robert DeNiro. And then there’s Cafe Martinique, another venue of Chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s repertoire - exclusive, French, and conveniently located just off Atlantis’ picturesque marina where mega-yachts dominate every slip.

Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill at The Cove

These establishments and their appropriate fits within the Vegas-glam-mega-resort format are well and nice and they complete a well-rounded, Americanised foodie-obsessed selection of dining choices. I was very impressed to find an abundance of vegetarian items in the food and beverage program overall - even veggie burgers and raw veggie snack bags were sold at poolside concession stands! Yet I did frequently flash back to my love of beach-stand conch salads, a simple ceviche made with raw conch, peppers, and lime juice, that is as commonplace in the Bahamas as burgers are in the States. And then this led me to further disconcerting feelings, because the reality is that celebrity chef-ified restaurants and commercialised bling are not the real Bahamas.

During my first day as I walked about moment by moment, I was increasingly keen to the hundreds upon hundreds of tourists barreling through hallways, packing the bars, restaurants, shops, and swimming pools, sliding down the water slides, laying like washed up man-o-wars down the beach. I’ve never been one to care for the cattle herded tourist corralling or any such activities that resembled so. Makes me a bit anxious in a very uncomfortable way, as a matter of fact. And as I looked on at the massive towers with their hundreds of tiny windows and surmised the thousands of guest rooms in total on Paradise Island (not a very large land mass), I couldn’t help but wonder - what must be the ecological weight load, the strain on the island, the resources needed to keep this all afloat?

Originally, I thought that the first thing I wanted to do upon my arrival is relive what I know to do in the Bahamas. I wanted to take my husband, get on a little out-boarded open fisherman, and buzz off to do some remote snorkeling and picnic on a secluded beach. Or, we could even take the fast ferry to Eluthera, known for its undisturbed beauty, quaintness, and pink sand beaches. But it didn’t take long to think this all over twice. You think the U.S. is in a fuel crisis? In Nassau, you’ll pay no less than $6.50/gallon to fill your car, and $9.00/gallon for your boat - possibly even more on other islands. Suddenly, I merged this reality with my silent inquisition of mass resort eco-stress. Do I really need to use more energy over and above what I am already contributing to, only to think that I am escaping the problem? Or would it do the environment and my pocket more good to just stay put, relax, and be a vegetarian resort tourist with a conscience?

The beach at Atlantis

Ultimately I decided for the latter because after all, I was on a little vacation. I rationalised I could lay around and not do much of anything and it would be fine because the less energy used, the better. But this didn’t stop me from thinking, “Is it right to have dolphin pools which houses 15+ dolphins, all for the entertainment of tourists who will pay $200 each for an 80 minute interaction? Is it right to have a caged seal in the back of a motor buggy, whose primary purpose is to ride around the resort grounds all day and perform little tricks in exchange for fish? Who will pick up all of the cups, rubbish, and cigarette butts along the beach discarded by visitors who have absolutely not a care about spoiling and trashing the very place which they call paradise? “

But I was also thinking every time I bathed in the amazingly crystal clear turquoise sea or had a sip of Kalik Gold, “This is my Bahamas, to which to be here, to be part of, to have known in this life, I am so thankful.” I also thought that I was very fortunate to have been met by these thoughts and realisations. They are all gifts from which to learn. They come from another chapter in my life, this present chapter, as a new awareness simply being the product of a different perspective within a familiar place. Ultimately, I relaxed and appreciated where I was and why I was there. It was all enough. It was another grateful memory.

Click here to see more photos of my Bahamas experience on Flickr!

<3, JMK

Congratulations Class of 2008 and Happy 18th Birthday Shannon!