At what point in the English language did lemons become a metaphor for life? Eggs in my opinion make more sense. My life has become scrambled, or things are going over-easy. Maybe life has become deviled or hard boiled? We’ll go with lemons though.
Six months ago, through a series of events, our household became business not-as-usual. Fortunate or not, life moves forward and we roll with the changes.
One change that I have been craving for quite a while is the sale of our house. It was the perfect place to raise children. A cul de sac location in a seaside borough where kids ride their bicycles to school. It served its purpose and my husband and I wanted to be free of the hassle of taking care of house, gardens and lawn.
We didn’t expect our real estate agent to have offers for us the first weekend on the market. But there we were. Three days in and we have the offer we were hoping to get.
The buyers wanted a six week closing and the deal was just too good to walk away from.
So six weeks after we took their offer, we find ourselves lightened by the enormous amount of energy it takes to run a big house. We have also lightened the load of our belongings. An estate sale run by a professional helped.
With no time to look for or even consider a new home we were incredibly lucky to find an apartment in the same building that our daughter and her boyfriend live in. A perfect, mid-century two bed, two bath with gleaming parquet floors and a river view.
You are now up to date. Food articles will be written from a new place with culinary creations coming out of a new kitchen. Flavor Chronicles/ Chefs in Motion resumes this week with a good-neighbor going away party post.
When life gives you lemons, squeeze them into a Bloody Mary. Sit down, enjoy the view and savor the opportunity to try something new.
Souvenirs: Some world travelers keep diaries listing places they’ve been and sights seen. Maybe the photos and words jar memories of happy times but sometimes an aroma or a taste of a meal shared with loved ones can also trigger those memories.
NOLA, an Emeril Lagasse restaurant located in the French Quarter of New Orleans is the first stop for Sunday brunch of a four day work/play adventure.
Just a few blocks from our hotel on Bourbon Street, the decor is a mix of crumbling brick walls and modern chandeliers. An ancient glass-enclosed elevator is both fun and inventive artistry and it’s also the only way to the second floor.
We bellied up to a high top at the recently opened B2 Bistro & Bar on Shrewsbury Avenue in Red Bank. This building once held an old fashioned Italian restaurant so beloved by locals that they still talk about it today. It was at Sal’s that we shushed our babies while trying to enjoy pasta puttanesca and veal parm. Two or three other restaurants took over the spot and failed. This one, B2 is gonna stick.