I’ve got that Friday feeling – the one where you feel slightly invincible because you worked so hard during the week and you’re about to eat the weekend alive, and you want to do something impulsive and slightly dangerous, like get a tattoo and/or take a few shots of whiskey.

And then you realize you kind of can’t, because you’re in charge of a little human and it’s actually not practical to get drunk and live dangerously, and you’d definitely pay for it tomorrow morning with the world’s worst hangover because you haven’t had hard liquor in over a year. Plus, do they even let babies in tattoo shops?

On the bright side, I get the same “Friday feeling” when we get Pho Saigon and I know I don’t have to do dishes, so my playlist of girls who rock is actually pretty fitting because I kicked dinner’s ass by not even having to make it in the first place. So there.

A busy Friday night at The Pickled Heron.

Our Friday night dinner at The Pickled Heron felt like a giant, warm hug; we hadn’t been there in an unfairly long time (we canceled our July 19th reservation to have a baby instead) so there was no better place to commemorate our first date without the little one. Everything was impeccable, of course, and now that I opened Pandora’s box of French food I plan to cash in on the grandparents’ request to cuddle with their grandson at least once a month to eat anything Todd and Daniela are making at our favorite French BYOB.

What we ate: seared foie gras with Concord grape jam; lobster cavatelli with hazelnuts, roasted cauliflower and crème fraîche; moules frites; seared black bass with Lyonnaise potatoes, broccoli and espagnole; chocolate pot de creme. Read More…

Two years with this guy – how’d I get so lucky?

Tonight, my husband and I celebrate two milestones: our two-year anniversary and our first date-night since the baby was born. Definitely a reason to party. And by party I mean a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant, The Pickled Heron – the Fishtown BYOB holds a dear place in our hearts not just for their impeccable French food but also because they hosted our rehearsal dinner – and a concert at Union Transfer.

The soundtrack for our evening is a compilation of romantic tracks, most of which are relevant to our relationship: “If I Ain’t Got You” is our wedding song; we’ve seen the Foo Fighters (multiple times), Amy Winehouse (R.I.P.), Arcade Fire (while pretty round and pregnant), and The Postal Service (In Paris – stealth brag); and “Tiny Dancer” was the last song played at our wedding – an epic ending to an equally incredible day.

Feel free to get romantic, too. Happy Friday!

This throwback isn’t all that vintage – the recipe was previously featured in the September 24th issue of The Spirit. Better late than never, right?

Each September, Joe and I attend the Newtown Beer Festival with my friend Kate, her husband, and their family. They live close to the location of the event and graciously host an after-party that’s always more fun than the actual beer sampling celebration, complete with plenty of food to absorb a few hours’ worth of sample-sized brewskis, a great playlist, a bonfire and, of course, more beer.

Things have drastically changed for Kate and I: she is expecting her first baby and, as for me, caring for a two-month old and all-day beer sampling aren’t  a good combination – especially the following day.  This year, Kate served as designated driver and we both hung at her house as the rest of the group celebrated the annual “tour de beer.”

We didn’t exclude ourselves, however, from the awesome menu typically served at Kate’s house, and she and I spent the day eating, chatting, and enjoying the beautiful weather on her back porch as Joey was lulled to sleep by the gentle breeze. In the spirit of tradition, I made an easy bread with the help of a bottle of Kenzinger, which was the perfect companion to Kate’s apple laced, fall salad.

Kenzo bread.

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