Going to the Ocean in Pennsylvania

Maybe the title is a little misleading since Pennsylvania doesn't even touch the Atlantic Ocean.  Ok, I didn't go to the beach but rather a fantastic restaurant in Easton, PA called Ocean that realizes a foodie's quest for great food at a reasonable price. 

This is the perfect date night restaurant.  The modern decor and romantically lit interior backdropped with modern lounge music reminded me of some chic hot spot in New York City without both the long travel time and expense.  Being that Alan and I have infrequent date nights, I like to make the most of it and get a little dressed up.  For the evening, I shed my usual jeans and olive oil stained t-shirt ensemble for sleek black pants, a satiny top and high heels.  In many places these days, this attire might get me looks of, "Where does she think she's going?" Ocean's clientel is hip, young and refreshingly eccentric and to my quiet relief, my wardrobe choice was appropriate with this avant-garde environment.  Don't get me wrong, this place is not pretentious.  The staff is always quick to please and the well-stocked bar has a flat screen tv and on that night, much to Alan's delight, was playing sports games.  There is a little something here for everyone's pleasure.

We learned our lesson from an unsuccessful previous attempt to go there with no reservations.  They weren't even sure when we could get seated and that was in the dead of winter.  Even with our reservations we had to wait for a few minutes in the downstairs lounge, where we ordered drinks and perused the menu.  I'm not sure if the delicious pomegranate martini was going to my head or if I was too excited to be at such a cool place.  Either way, I'm glad we had that pause before sitting at our table because every choice on the French inspired menu was overwhelmingly tempting.  I think they know they have a real good thing going in the kitchen so they offer tapas as well as entrees to help ease through indecision. 

Once seated at a table, we were promptly met with a cheerful waitress who told us the specials that evening.  Thank you very much!  My decision making just became much more difficult.  In the end I decided tapas was the planned route to taste bud bliss.  I figured I could try more dishes this way and my plan would have paid off if my eyes weren't bigger than my stomach.  I started with the Ocean salad which is double portion sized.  I could have stopped there but the crab cake BLT seduced me once I saw it on the menu.  Seriously, who can refuse a BLT?  For me, having the additional crab was the icing on the cake if you will.  Before I got down to gormandizing the gorgeous gateau, I ordered fried calamari.  It should be noted their tapas portion size is quite large and two was more than enough.  I realized this when I just about finished the crab cake BLT and when the calamari showed up.  My eyes eagerly desired the beckoning crispy coating that lavishly surrounded each piece.  My stomach was completely satisfied six bites ago.  Unfortunately when it comes to food, I've got very little self control.  I took a reluctant bite and the calamari did not disappoint.  The combination of crispiness with salty flavor thoroughly satisfied my palate.  My taste buds screamed for more while my stomach warned me if I listened to my mouth there would be digestive trouble in the near future.  Fortunately this decision was fairly easy to make.  I asked our waitress for a container to take the calamari home and in the comfort of my everyday home environment, it was my lunch the next day.

This whole experience was on a date night and while I will always deeply love my husband, I fell in love with the food and enchanting surroundings at Ocean.  Although he may not admit it, I think Alan felt the same way about the evening.  We both can agree that the company is truly what made the evening romantic.

Check out Ocean's website at http://www.ocean235.com/

A Scintillating Sickness

The men in my life can tell you that I have acute arachnophobia, although I don’t think there is anything “cute” about it!  My husband, Alan, can tell you my reactions to spiders have come close to inducing heart attacks for both of us.  Unfortunately, my passionate reactions to arachnids have given my son reason to think spiders are in the same category as a murderer.  I wish I could rid myself of this ridiculous fear but it has gotten worse as I have gotten older and also has begun to include just about all bugs. 

The origin of my fear of spiders goes back to my very early years.  When I was a toddler, I would spend a lot of time at Nana B and Pop-pop’s house.  Nana can still vividly recall how I would cry and scream at the daddy long leg spiders that were constant fixtures on the foundation of their house.  She tried using reverse psychology on me by calling them her pets.  It didn’t work.

My phobia hit an all time high point when I was about six, outside skipping rope in our driveway.  It was a warm sunny day and I couldn’t be happier because I was outfitted with my famous black patent leather Mary Jane shoes and white bobby socks trimmed with lace.  These were essentials in my wardrobe and my favorite things as a young girl.  I wore them as much as I could because I had naturally curly hair and everyone told me I looked like Shirley Temple.  We both tap danced – she on a movie stage and me on any available fireplace hearth.  This was the closest I was going to get to stardom.  Anyway, I digress.  So there I was in complete childhood bliss until I was interrupted by a slight tickle on my right ankle.  I looked down to see a very large daddy long leg perched on the lace of my sock.  What happened next is fuzzy in my memory probably due to the huge surge of adrenaline that coursed through my little body.  I am quite certain I screamed at the top of my lungs and, as it is unfathomable for me to have simply bent down to pluck it off my sock, began to run at top speed around the front yard.  I’m not sure where or when the spider fell off but I’m sure it was mocking me with delight wherever he was.

It was on a crisp autumn Sunday during a church service that Dad became the sole believer in my theory that spiders are out to get me.  The large sanctuary had a vaulted twenty five foot ceiling intentionally making one feel small.  While singing a hymn I saw in my peripheral vision a gossamer thread briefly revealed in the sunlight hanging down from that impossibly high ceiling.  My eyes followed the thread to the end where it was – the maker of that thread.  Because the web strand was so long, the spider swayed in a slow pendulum fashion about two feet in front of my face.  Dad was standing next to me, took notice of my peril and bumped my arm with his elbow.  Before he could utter the word “spider” I whispered, “I know.”  He shook his head and stifled an incredulous laugh.  After the service was over, he tried to explain to me the mathematical odds of a tiny spider descending from such a height to perfectly hanging in the space between the person in front of me and my face.  I just asked, “Do you believe me now?”  He answered with an incredulous but confident, “Yes.”

I don’t remember if I told Alan while we were dating that I was extremely afraid of spiders or if he found out through experience.  One regretful recollection was the incident of the spider in his Jeep.  It was dark and getting cold so he put the heat on.  The blowing air from the heat must have stirred the nasty thing from its sleeping den in the vent.  For retribution from waking it from its dreams, it marched across the dashboard towards me.   I thought it was going to bite my head off.  I screamed at the top of my lungs while at the same time ripping my seatbelt off and doing a back flip onto the backseat.  Retrospectively, dealing with the spider might have been a little smarter and safer than testing Alan’s driving skills on an already challenging narrow and traffic filled road.  He had no idea why I was acting like a crazy person and thought my scream was because we were going to get into a car accident.  Since he did not even see the spider and therefore could not kill it, I remained in the backseat until we got to our final destination.

It certainly was not fancy driving skills but only a miracle that saved me from another stealthy vehicular intruder.  The day before the death defying encounter, I was over a friend’s house for a party and as it was mid-summer I left my windows down with the sunroof opened so the car would stay cool.  The revolting creature gained easy entrance to my car this way.  This was a mistake of epic proportions that I would never EVER repeat again in the future no matter how hot it is.  The creature hid somewhere because I did not see it on my drive home that evening.  The next morning on my commute to work, I spotted it on the rear-view mirror and quickly proceed to climb down my decorative paraphernalia hanging from the mirror.  My hand was its obvious next destination.  The thought of having that spider touch my skin was so appalling that one thought pervaded my brain – get the blaggard out of the car!  I cannot explain how there was not a single car around me during Monday morning rush hour on a three lane highway.  It had to be God’s protection for surely what I did next warranted serious injury to myself and others.  I jerked the wheel to the right without looking behind me to get to the shoulder which meant crossing two highway lanes.  Once there, I got out of the car and found a long stick, got the creature on it and flung it into the brush.  I was proud of myself of actually getting rid of a spider on my own.  It wasn’t until I got to the office and calmed down and returned to rational thought that I realized I could have killed myself or worse, someone else by my stupid move.

By definition, a phobia is an irrational fear that invokes erratic behavior.  I have tried to be rational but that is difficult when I am constantly being stalked by spiders.  Yes, I am stalked because at any given point in time I can look at a corner, the ceiling in my bedroom, be in my bed, the car, the shower or gardening anywhere and there is ALWAYS an eight legged creature nearby.  Also, there is nothing imaginary about the painfully itchy little bites on my neck and ankles.  I can divulge many more spider stories involving fits of unbridled screaming, feelings of overwhelming nausea and seemingly absurd behavior, however, I think these stories are self deprecating enough for one entry. 

Cold Weather Comfort Creation

This week's weather has certainly ushered in the feel of fall.  The sun's rays are quitting earlier every day, the leaves are beginning to fall and the rain now brings a chill that goes right to my bones.  It's barely October and already I have switched on the heat and wrapped myself in an afghan blanket.  I must be cold-blooded since I can't get going unless I'm warm. 

Many people say this is their favorite time of the year and as much as I love the foliage and fashion change, I prefer long days and dressing light.  For me, the autumnal equinox equates with hibernation and hearty comfort foods that stick to the ribs.   With all the obvious characteristics of fall around and despite me switching on the heat, I'm still holding out on making crockpot stews and chunky soups. 

Gnocchi is a hearty pasta I have steered away from simply because of its unique consistency.  There was a restaurant Alan and I frequented that would make it with cremini mushrooms in a cream sauce.  Alan raved how delicious it was and since then it was a dish that stayed in the back of my mind but I never tried to cook because it seemed too daunting.  After all these years of cooking cream sauces by the book I decided I was experienced enough to try my hand at the fabled dish Alan fancied by sheer imagination.  Not only did this recipe cook up quick, it was good enough to go back for seconds.  Sometimes I even amaze myself!

1 package shrunk wrapped or fresh gnocchi
1 package of cremini mushrooms, roughly diced
1 small onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic
2-3 slices of bacon, diced
1 pint heavy cream
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried thyme
salt & pepper

In a large pan, melt the butter and heat the olive oil.  Saute the bacon, mushrooms and onions.  While these are cooking, boil a large pot of water for the gnocchi then cook it per the package instructions.  Just before the bacon, mushrooms and onions start to brown, add the garlic and thyme - salt and pepper to taste.  Once the mushroom mixture is browned, pour in the cream.  Stir slowly until little bubbles form then add the cheeses stirring constantly and lowering the heat to LOW.  Once the cheese is melted and the sauce is slightly thickened, take the cooked gnocchi and put directly into the pan.  Stir until gnocchi is covered with sauce and remove from heat.  Serve immediately.