…stop by and see me!

I'll be taking a break from When Twilight Burns, and signing books and chatting with readers (and other authors!) at Another Look Books in Taylor, Michigan, on Saturday, from 3-5. If you need a break from shopping (and turkey), come on by!

And in the mean time…have a great Thanksgiving. What's the dish you most look forward to on Turkey Day?

Me? It's real mashed potatoes and gravy. Yuuuuuum. 

So I was in NYC last week, and on my way there, I sat between a young man in his 20s and a man perhaps a decade or so older than me.

During the course of our brief get-to-know-the-person- whose-personal-space-you'll-be-in-for-the-next- two-hours conversation, the younger man, Matt, mentioned that he was an artist. I've heard that before, but, wow. When he pulled out his sketchbook I almost fell out of my seat (which would have been an amazing feat, considering how bloody small those plane accomodations are!). Talk about talent. Matt, I'll say it again: if you see this blog post, drop me an email. And if you ever read my books, I'd love to see your renditions of the characters. The guy is really talented.

The older man, whose name I don't think I ever got, was the produce manager for a small chain of upscale grocery stores in Brooklyn. He'd been traveling to Michigan for the day to check out some upscale grocery stores here to see what the trends were in organizing the produce department.

Since I love food, in particular fruits and vegetables, I launched into a whole slew of Q&As (after all, what else can you do during a flight?) about storage and prep of those goodies.

I was right in most cases as far as whether to refrigerate or not…but there were a few that surprised me.

So, without further ado, here's a list of dos and don'ts in regards to produce:

Don't ever refrigerate tomatoes. (This is something I'd learned years ago.)

Don't refrigerate mangoes, bananas, pears, apples (something my Music Man and I argue about–he likes them cold "like they are when you pick them in the fall" and I don't), lemons or limes.

You can refrigerate berries, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, and most other vegetables. Not potatoes, or onions, of course.

Don't wash mushrooms, just wipe them off with a paper towel before cooking. And when refrigerating them, make sure there are little holes in the plastic wrapping so they can breathe. 

To eat a tamarillo (which was a fruit my daughter had suggested I buy at the store recently, and when she bit into it she thought it tasted horrible), cut it open and just eat the flesh–not the peel or the black seeds.

He explained to me the mystery of the mango pit–which, if you aren't aware, is the oddest, most inconvenient pit I've ever come across–and how to effectively navigate around it to get the most of that wonderful fruit.

And we waxed rhapsodic over one of my favorite fruits–the Asian or Korean pear. He also called it something else, but I can't remember. Love those crisp, juicy fruits.

And then I landed in NY and had a whirlwind two days there, attending the reading at The Happy Endings Lounge (where Colette, Jane, Elizabeth, Megan, Kent, and I met a thick-lashed black male bouncer named Shannon Shamiq), and then found a diner in the Village where we had to eat something to dilute the martinis we'd enjoyed earlier.

So, there you have it. I'm back and on deadline for Gardella Four (so will probably be very quiet for awhile), and should have ARCs of The Bleeding Dusk to give away very soon. So stay tuned for contest winners (I haven't forgotten about the Meatball Contest and the Readers Ask contests…winners announced soon).

Finally, Twisted Kingdom contacted me about a new contest for readers of The Gardella Vampire Chronicles–a fan-fic/fan-art contest. So get your creative juices flowing, and I'll give you the heads up when they post it. 

And last but not least, 'fess up: Do you refrigerate tomatoes? Apples? Have you ever had an Asian pear? What's your favorite "exotic" fruit?

As you've probably surmised, I've spent most of the week at the hospital with my nine-year-old son.

We've been at one of the premier university hospitals in the US, and it's got everything imaginable to keep a kid comfortable and entertained during his/her stay. They bring activities to the bedside–painting, crafts, video games, movies, books, etc. 

And for mom and dad, there are chairs that turn into beds and long (and some not-so-long) couches for sleeping. A great food court/cafeteria with almost anything you could imagine. And, as they proudly told me, a Starbuck's.

Now, I'm not a coffee drinker. Never have been, can't see that I ever would be. (Although I do like the smell of freshly-ground beans. Mmmm.)

So I just don't get the Starbuck's thing. What is it? Is the coffee that good? That much better than McDonald's new McCafe stuff, or all the other coffee shops everywhere? Someone explain it to this coffee-ignorant person. 

And even if I would have been a Starbuck's fan, I think that I would have changed my mind after a friend of mine related this incident to me.

True story, according to my friend Jane:

My friend–I'll call her Jane–does a lot of business traveling, mostly to NYC and Seattle. She's an attractive (in a down-to-earth, professional way–not a brittle way), very self-assured woman in her late forties, single, and confident.

Some time ago, she was in NYC for business, and as she often does, she eats dinner in the hotel restaurant alone. Afterward, she went into the bar to have a glass of wine. She's single, but in a relationship, and wasn't in there trolling for men…but an attractive man about her age was sitting at the bar and so they struck up a conversation.

When the man left, another well-dressed, attractive man–I'll call him Dick–who had been sitting nearby and had overheard their conversation began to talk with Jane.

They had lots in common–both traveled a lot to NYC, and he was from Seattle, so she was familiar with that area as well. They were both in sales, or as he put it, business development. It was a nice conversation, but that was all it was. He was married with two children, and as I said, Jane was otherwise involved.

But when Jane finished up her wine and stood to leave, and Dick said, "Would you like some company? You could come up to my room for a bit."

Jane replied politely, "No thank you." And she left.

She went upstairs and got off the elevator by her room, and as she was approaching her room door, key in hand, Dick stepped off another elevator behind her. (I'm guessing he saw her room number on her bar tab; but I'm not sure.)

"Hi," he said. "Are you sure you don't want some company for a bit?"

Jane–who, as I said, is very self-assured and confident–looked at him. She was standing at the room door, ready to open it. "If you don't leave right now, I'm going to make so much noise–and I'm going to hurt you."

"Okay, okay, okay," he said, backing away, hands in front. He got in the elevator and left. 

Can you believe this?  Married guy, two kids, meets a friendly, intelligent woman and immediately assumes she's going to jump in bed with him.

So here's the punch line: two weeks later, Jane's at home, watching the morning news, and a very high-level executive of Starbuck's is being interviewed on TV.

And this very high-level executive of Starbuck's, the married guy with two kids who travels between Seattle and NYC, who followed my friend up to her hotel room after she told him NO, is none other than Dick.

Dick.

I loooove berries–any kind of berry (except maybe gooseberries. Can't say as I've ever had any of them. But strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, ligonberries, cranberries…. bring'em on!).

And I'm very excited because about four years ago, maybe five, I planted about six little raspberry bushes in a small garden section next to my house. That little plot has taken over at least twice its original size (and about four times as thick), plus it's sent up feeders under my deck stairs and in the five-foot space under the deck, and it's become quite a jungle of raspberries. Yum!

We're on our second harvest, and there are scores more berries each day than there were for the early harvest, which was in June. I'm picking a bowl of berries like in the picture below each day.

Which means, I can put my nose up at those plastic-packaged ones in the grocery, priced at 2/$5 or even 2/$4. I'm picking about six times as many as one of those little containers each day.

As I said: Yum.

So, what do we do with all those berries? Well, we eat them out of the bowl mostly. My kids are fruit and vegetable eaters, and everytime they walk by, they snag a handful of the berries.

My favorite thing to do with them is to dump them in a cereal bowl and pour milk and sugar over them and eat with a spoon. A great treat, and one I remember from my childhood.

Another thing I do with them is add them to my oatmeal in the morning, or I make a smoothie with fat-free milk and a banana and a big handful of berries. That's really good, and I get my calcium too.

What about you? Berries or no berries? Your favorite thing to do with the fresh ones? Share! 

Our children's old au pair, who is from Germany, visited us over the weekend while on a two-week vacation here in the US. It's always fabulous to see Jan, and it felt just like old times while he was here. (He lived with us from Sept 2002-Aug 2003.)

He speaks absolutely perfect English, and he's a big Hollywood buff, so we had lots to talk about.

But one of the best things about his visit was that he brought Milka! Oh joy, oh joy, oh joy! The best chocolate ever. So creamy and yummy and smooth. Mmm. (We also have an au pair from Holland who brings us Milka too, so I'm hoping she'll come for a visit again soon. She also reads this blog, so HINT HINT!)

Milka just makes Hershey's taste like wax. I'm sorry. It ruins the taste buds for any other chocolate, except maybe Godiva. Maybe.

So here he is, surrounded by the variations of Milka that he brought, and that we have been enjoying all weekend.

It's like Girl Scout cookies–you get it once a year, so you indulge all at once. And then have to wait till the next time.

At least, that's how it is at my house–but the main reason is for self-preservation. After all, if I don't eat it, someone else will! 

So, are you a hoarder or an indulger? What's your favorite chocolate?