easy breezy baked buffalo wings

When I lived in Japan, I missed foods I didn't expect: buffalo chicken wings, lettuce that wasn't shredded, Raisin Bran cereal, and mostly - pizza and french fries. A friend lovingly mailed me two giant boxes of Raisin Bran, the Marines that my girlfriend Callie and I were kinda sorta dating took us on base for real honest-to-god American fast food (and I learned that in desperate times, I will eat and enjoy Pizza Hut), and I discovered that my little market carried fresh chicken wings, from time to time. (I learned to live with shredded lettuce.)

I'd search the fresh meat like a fiend every day in the market and always - if there was a package of wings - I'd snag them. I finally had the meat to scratch the itch of my craving, but like most Japanese, I didn't have an oven. So I created my own buffalo wings recipe that needed nothing more than boiling water and a toaster oven. I liked them so much (and ate them so often!) that I brought the recipe home with me. Now every time I make wings, I'm homesick for the smell of rice fields and tatami in the summer, and my apartment in Yamaguchi, Japan. Life is funny that way.

easy breezy baked buffalo wings 
wings! (1 pound, half a pound, however many you want to cook)
a pat of butter
buffalo sauce (of your own making or bottled, whatever you prefer - i used sriracha in japan because it's what i had, but here in the state's i rely on good 'ole frank's red when i'm keeping it simple)
salt, pepper, garlic, old bay, other seasonings you love

steps 
heat your oven to 400-450 degrees (i "wing" this recipe every time so forgive my lack of exactness!)
fill a medium-sized pot (or larger for more wings) 2/3 with hot water and bring to a boil
submerge the  wings and boil for, ohhh 5-7 minutes
drain & place the wings on a greased pan
sprinkle the wings generously with your seasonings of choice (i go big on the pepper & garlic, and if i'm feeling crazy, old bay)
bake for about 6-7 minutes to get them nice and crispy
turn the oven to broil and continue to cook them for another 6-8 minutes
while they're broiling, melt a pat of butter and mix it with your buffalo sauce of choice in a bowl that has a fitted lid (a sriracha-honey mix would also be delicious here)
pull the wings out and stick them straight into the sauce - put on the lid and shake to fully coat

let cool just enough to handle and enjoy!

(you might also love dipping the wings in this simple, homemade ranch dressing. i substitute greek yogurt for the sour cream and mayo. it's delicious!)

where to eat in dc | roofers union

Roofers Union, the newest restaurant to grace 18th Street in Adams Morgan, takes elevated food and makes it approachable - in portion sizes, taste, and price point. For instance, Zan loves sweetbreads, and I shudder at the very thought. But at Roofers Union, they've taken the fancy schmancy food and made it into a po'boy sandwich. And you know what? It's delicious! The $12 price-tag doesn't make me cringe, either.

It's the sort of restaurant that falls right into my comfort zone. It feels blue-collar with the old union uniforms hung on the walls, refurbished wood, a bar with standing room only, and a few TVs playing the sporting event of the day. But it has the careful, thoughtful finishes of an upscale restaurant, too - like the wine list curated by someone in the know, a beer list that's even better than the wine list, dishes like the sweetbread po'boy that poke fun of fancy but embrace it, too, and floor-to-ceiling bay windows that create an ambiance of romance, if that's what you want to find.

Roofers Union is under the same owners as Zan's and my neighborhood wine bar, Ripple. My favorite part of the connection to Ripple is that the two restaurants share a chef - Marjorie Meek-Bradley. When she first arrived at Ripple, she offered a bar menu with options like a chicken sandwich and a lamb burger. While Ripple is our go-to spot for wine, we rarely eat there because of the food prices and options (upscale). I was so excited to see a new bar menu that appealed to my tastes, but before we even had a chance to try it, it disappeared. I've only met the chef very casually once or twice in Ripple, and while I don't know her, I have a hunch that the Roofers Union menu is really her style. And if so, I love her style.

The standout dishes for us were the crispy brussels sprouts - fried just to perfection, the sausage trio (the chicken sausage with a pretzel roll was absolute, total heaven, and I will become a regular for that sandwich alone!), and the sriracha-honey glazed chicken thigh sandwich. They offer the same glaze on chicken wings. That sandwich is money, the glaze is crack, and I can only imagine that if I try the wings, I'll never be the same again.

If I had to pick one thing for Roofers Union to work on - it'd be the fries. Ripple's fries have been rumored to be fried in duck fat, truffle oil, and all sorts of other, wonderful things. They are, hands down, some of the best fries in the city. If Roofers Union brought those over, too, it would - without a doubt - be my new favorite restaurant in DC.

the galapagos | 2

From my journal... Read Galapagos part 1.

The highlight of being in the Galapagos is falling asleep on the beach and waking up with a sea lion pup or a giant iguana napping or sunning by your head. It happened to me yesterday afternoon. I dozed off, my book still open in the sand beside me. The book pages flapped just a little louder in the wind, and I woke with a start and came eye to eye with a sea lion pup. I jumped a little in shock, and the pup looked on wide-eyed, nonplussed as I scrambled to get my bearings. My laughter rang out over the waves until Zan's head popped up, snorkel goggles still on his eyes. He saw the tail end of the scene and lamented not getting it all on video. It would have been a good one.

My favorite spots and moments have been El Chino beach on San Cristobal, where we saw blue-footed boobies up close and a frigate nest. The water there was a shade of brilliant turquoise like I haven't seen since Koh Phi Phi in Thailand. I was certain then I'd never see water so beautiful, but a few of these Galapagos beaches come close. I also love Los Loberia, a beach on San Cristobal that's only accessible on foot. It's a sea lion reserve.

At first I was nervous around sea lions. They're territorial and defensive; they roar the second you come to close on land. I joked to Zan that they're kind of jerks. But on Loberia, they're friendlier - that is, less likely to roar in protest of your very presence - and the pups are curious and lovable.

And now I'm on Tortuga Bay on Santa Cruz island. It's said to be one of the most beautiful beaches in all of the Galapagos. When I'm thigh-deep in the ocean, I can see all the way to the bottom with the clarity of clean glass. It's so translucent and just the right amount of cold that envelops you until it starts to feel warmer under the current than above that I want to stay in the water more than on land. Every time I dip my head under the rolling, soft waves, it's so refreshing that I go back for more.

Giant iguanas are to this beach as sea lions are to Los Loberia. I like them! They don't care about humans. They do whatever they want. They're also confident, if that can be said of a reptile. The way they stand with perfect posture and their heads lifted as if in a sun salutation - they're the zen animals of the Galapagos. There are 12 giant iguanas around me that I count as I write this.

The one downside of the Galapagos beaches is the horseflies. They are as abundant as the sea lions on San Cristobal and the iguanas here. They're a nuisance. My legs are covered in their bites or stings or whatever pain they're inflicting. I finally bought repellant. Now that I've coated my body in it a dozen times or more in the last hour, I have a sneaking suspicion that it attracts the sun. Burnt or bitten: pick your poison.

I've been thinking that if I were to come back to the Galapagos - and I'd like to... maybe when I have kids - that I'd still want to do it land-based and independently instead of on a cruise. Meeting locals and participating in local culture and daily life has been the best part of our trip.

While I write this, Zan is on a day trip to Isabella island. I can't wait to hear about his experiences with flamingos, penguins, sea turtles, and friends he meets along the way. And I'll tell him about the joy and beauty and wonderment of doing nothing but being on this beach, watching the waves lap and the iguanas sun, and journaling about nothing more serious than this perfect moment -- horseflies aside.

a surprise weekend getaway to boston!

About a month ago, Zan asked me to take the Friday before Valentine's off work and to pack warmly and for a 4-day weekend. Besides so many jokes about Branson, Missouri that I started to get excited about heading to the middle of nowhere, I had no clue what we were doing. For me? Nothing beats a good surprise.

He kept me in suspense up until the day we left. On Friday morning, I was giddy with excitement and my guesses were running the gambit from Vermont (realistic) to Alaska (probably not). We took the metro - and I knew at that point that we'd either be taking a train or flying, and it'd depend on which line we were took as to which we were doing. We switched lines at Gallery Place, and I knew for sure that we were headed to the airport.

As we stepped into the security line at the airport, Zan handed me my ticket; we were heading to Boston. I was worse than a kid in that airport - excited, jumpy, full of energy, and overflowing with anticipation. My ultimate travel fantasy is showing up at the airport with no clue where I'm going, no ticket, and just going. And that's exactly what I got to do. It was the most loving, special gift.

Just like that, we were off to the land of snow, ice, ivy league schools, and home of my longtime best friend, Melanie. The last time we saw Mel and her boyfriend Mike was for Mel's and my birthdays in September in New York. This time, they were (unfortunately!) spending the weekend in Philadelphia, but that didn't stop them from transforming their beautifully decorated apartment into a bed and breakfast for us.We got to spend most of Friday afternoon and evening with them, and then we were left to our own devices.

(Later, Zan let me read his and Mel's email exchanges planning the whole thing, and it made me laugh and cry and just about burst with love.) 

It was such a fun weekend, complete with wandering through the city during a snow storm, eating delicious food, meeting up with girlfriends I haven't seen in far, far too long, buying enough books to last me months, and drinking hot tea until I had to pee every five minutes. Perfection. I tell you what.

Here's a fun top 10 list we compiled at the end of the weekend for Mel and Mike.

10. The speakeasy outdoors store - Hilton's Tent City near the North End is like a divey outdoors store. A speakeasy outdoors store! Some kind of awesome 4-story, narrow, hole-in-the-wall, in a rowhouse, outdoors store. I was wearing Frye's in a snow storm. We stopped in here to get me some Sorel's. I felt like a real New England woman.
9. Fawning over Beacon Hill  - we met up with my JET girlfriend Rachel (whom I haven't seen since 2010!) for pho. We talked nonstop, gave Zan all the JET gossip he could (n)ever want, and then Rachel took us on a tour. We saw the Boston Public Library (gorgeous), the Boston skyline right in the golden hour, the Boston historical park, and Beacon Hill. John Kerry lives up there, the alleys look like England, the homes are $5 million or so, and can I live there, please?
8. Finishing the Boston Marathon without running at all! The finish line is painted and still visible! Even luckier for us, a group of Bostonians were waiting for a friend (who was running? in a snow storm?!) with a "finish" sign so we got further proof of our pretend athletic prowess ;)
7. The bacon parm dipping sauce at Saus - Saus, a Belgian street food and artsy/modern/European restaurant space has 15 different kinds of sauces for their frites.
6. Italian men yelling at each other in Italian in North End - I fell right over my heels into the snow in love with North End. What blows my mind is this hyper-Italian neighborhood is dubbed as touristy, but the food is the best in town. That never happens!
5. All the books at Harvard Bookstore - (my Sorel boots cost me $80 at Hilton's... they were $170 at a store in Harvard Square!) I've been to Harvard Square every time I've visited Boston. It never loses its charm. It's a beauty of a campus. But the best part of that area is Harvard Bookstore. Head downstairs for half-the-price, still-in-new-condition used books.
4. Secret bread and butterscotch pudding at Row 34- One of Mel's closest girlfriends runs the beer program at Boston's hottest new restaurant - Row 34. I've met her several times, and she went out of her way to spoil us when we came in for dinner. Make sure to ask for the bread. Skip the brussels, get the cauliflower or the carrots. Get two orders of pudding.
3. Harpoon Brewery - Clare is one of Mel's college friends, and now she's one of my firends. Clare and I lived together here in DC for a year before she moved back to Beantown for grad school. We caught up over beer and sparkling cider (yummmm!) at the gorgeous, huge, open beer hall at the Harpoon Brewery. It's a 15 minute walk from Row 34 - combine them for a great evening!
2. The elusive, always closed "Mapparium"  - I got unruly in my excitement over seeing the Mapparium. Downright unruly, I tell you. I would not shut up about it. Supposedly, it's a 3-story, stained glass globe of the world from the 1930s with fascinating acoustics - it echoes so clearly it's kind of freaky how you hear your voice, is what I hear. And I have to rely on rumors because it's never open! It's closed all weekend and only open during the week until 4pm. So let's all just take off work so we can see the Mapparium.
1. Mel and Mike's B&B/all of east Cambridge - Mel decorated the bed with felt hearts, left fresh towels with a bowl of m&ms on top (plan, no peanuts, she knows me so well!), and made homemade cinnamon rolls for us for breakfast. It was luxurious. Their apartment is nestled off Cambridge street, and I love their neighborhood. It's local in the best sense - thick Boston accents, Italian home-cooking, and friendliness all around. They may not take reservations quite yet, but I'd definitely recommend staying in Cambridge.

the ship of fools

A few weekends ago, Zan and I didn't get up and moving until 1:30pm. What can I say? Pajamas, naps, homemade breakfast, and the call of the TV (ahem, House of Cards) have all been so tantalizing this winter. We haven't resisted the urge to nest. Anyway, we finally swapped out pajama pants for socially acceptable ones and hopped in Zan's truck.

With no real plans and it being a little too late in the afternoon to head out to wineries (our typical go-to on Saturdays with no plans), I suggested we check out a few lesser known tourist spots that neither of us had seen - a pretty incredible feat given that Zan grew up here!

I recently wrote a feature for Viator.com on 30 Unique Things To Do in DC. It turned out to be shockingly easy to write - it took me a mere 10-15 minutes to come up with the list of 30 things. Most of them I'd done, but there were a handful that I'd only heard rumors of... and it was time to change that.

So we headed across town to the Southwest Waterfront to see the Titanic Memorial. This statue, dedicated to the brave men who lost their lives so that women and children could be saved (because of too few life rafts, if you haven't seen the movie.... er, know the history!), depicts a women with her arms outstretched into the wind. It looks exactly like the iconic scene in the movie Titanic with Jack and Rose at the helm of the ship.

And here's where I have a giant, nerdy confession to make: I saw the movie five times in theaters. Five! I saw it so many times that my mom started to think that maybe I was pulling one over on her and was up to all kinds of teenage rebellion. Years later, she admitted that the 5th time I went, she followed me to the theater and poked her head in to see if I was really there. And there I was, sipping on a soda and mouthing the words because at that point I could quote the whole damn thing. I have an inkling she was hopeful I really was up to some old fashioned trouble making and not really seeing a movie for the fifth time... (Can we also talk about how I would not have used the same excuse 5 times in a row if I were really sneaking out and making out with boys?!)

With all that embarrassment on the table, I probably don't need to say that I loved it. It was cheesy, fun, and honestly? A beautiful monument. The sun was shining just right. The water was iced over - and that was kind of perfect when you're visiting a Titanic memorial... if not a bit morbid and sad.

I definitely quoted a monologue, downloaded "My Heart Will Go On" and had Zander film the whole scene. I know. I really thought about posting it here, but some things... Let's just say Zan and my mom have enough teasing fodder to last a lifetime.

Then we drove all the way up to Georgetown to play on the giant green Adirondack chair on the lawn of Duke Ellington School of the Arts. If I ever have kids in the city, that's where I'm taking them for play time. Who needs a jungle gym when there's an oversize chair?!

I get so caught up in being a local, and redefining that for myself with every new trend, restaurant, and up-and-coming neighborhood, that I sometimes forget how great it is to be a tourist. Especially when the attractions are little hidden gems in the nooks and crannies of this beloved city of mine.

in the stacks | a prayer for owen meany

A Prayer for Owen Meany was published in 1989; I'm more than a little late to the party. Even so, picking it up around 15 years after its heyday, it's still relevant. It's still piercing and nuanced, beautiful and profound, complicated in all the ways that John Irving likes to complicate his novels (early sexual encounters that shape psyches, dysfunctional families, male protagonists who become writers in some fashion, missing fathers). Owen Meany is often hailed as Irving's greatest work next to my personal favorite, The World According to Garp. But even as I type that, I wonder if Owen didn't steal my heart straight away from Garp.

I picked up a novel in the Atlanta airport as Zan and I were about to board our flight to Ecuador. I really didn't enjoy it and quickly swapped it out for a tattered and torn copy of Owen Meany at a guesthouse. It took me the majority of the first 100 pages to really get into this heavy, lengthy read. The long opening delves into religion - the differences between Christian denominations, to be specific. I found myself skimming just to skip over what felt like a parallel to long lineal passages in the early books of the Bible.

But once I was invested - that is, when Johnny, the main character, and Owen, his best friend, start playing a larger role, I couldn't put the book down. Owen is an addictive character - placed on a pedestal by half of the characters in their small New England town and despised by the other half. He's pint-sized with a voice that never lowers with puberty. He's a force of nature - quick-witted, seemingly prophetic, manipulative when he wants (or needs) to be, and persuasive to a fault. The novel overflows with comedy - from situational to word-play. At the heart of it all is Johnny and Owen's enigmatic, three-dimensional relationship. 

I can't tell much more of the plot without giving key points away. And, for the book lovers out there, I probably don't need to. I can't say anything about this book that hasn't already been said in numerous reviews.

While writing this post, I got distracted reading interviews with John Irving about the novel. I find it fascinating that he speaks very highly of Johnny - a character that is somewhat understated and aloof compared to how well readers get to know Owen. Irving seems to identify with Johnny, though he says Owen Meany is not his most autobiographical novel.

Another thing Irving said that I find riveting concerns Johnny's sexuality. He says, "I wanted to make it evident that Johnny loves Owen Meany, but I wanted to keep it unclear — or unstated — that Johnny is (or is not) gay." It seems clear if you read more of the interview that Irving does think of Johnny as gay. Johnny, he says, is heartbroken and never gets over Owen.  

I can sympathize. I can't get over Owen, either. That, to me, is the magic of Owen Meany - Irving created a character that millions of people around the world can't get over. Even 15 years later.   

Just for fun - here's the 1989 book review from The New York Times 

theo and a neighborly snowman

I'm bundled up on my couch in leggings and a Huskers sweatshirt from my college days. I'm watching the rain/sleet/snow come down outside. I just remembered that I re-heated my tea, and it's still in the microwave... an hour later. I think it's time to just make a fresh cup, no?

I had some work to get done this morning, but it only took me an hour... if I subtract the time I spent distracted by Anthony Bourdain's episode of "No Reservations" in Hokkaido, the end of Step Up Revolution, and a goal or two of Olympics hockey. It has been that kind of snow day - slow but going by too quickly. After I met my work deadline, I bundled up, put Theo on his leash, and we braved the snow.

There is a lot of snow in upper northwest DC! I'm a horrible guesser, and it felt like a solid five feet, but it's probably more like 10 inches. The snow comes up to Theo's stomach (kind of adorable), but that dog of mine is fearless and has an insatiable sense of adventure. Sometimes I watch him and think there really is something to that fate thing; we were meant for each other.

I have a few things I should get done - like sort out utilities for this month, put the finishing touches on Zan's Valentine's Day gift, and get ahead on freelance work... but for right this minute I think I'll make that cup of hot tea and finish an episode of House of Cards.

Tomorrow, Zan and I are leaving for a long weekend to...?! I have no idea! He has big plans, and all I know is that we have to be where we have to be at 11:30am. I can't wait to find out what he has up his sleeve. We could be spending the whole day seeing movies in the city, and I'd be the happiest camper. The surprise itself is the magic.

I hope you and yours are safe, warm, and enjoying the snow (if you have any) as much as Theo.

where to eat in dc | the red hen

Zan and I spent the afternoon in Georgetown. We didn’t get out of bed until 11, and then we lounged in sweatpants on the couch until 12:30, when Zan went back to bed for a nap. By 2:00pm we were finally dressed and ready to escape cabin fever before it set in. We found parking on a side street right off of Wisconsin Avenue – and somehow, I’m going to jinx us by saying this – we always find parking right there, at just about the same spot, every time we go to Georgetown. It’s a small huge Saturday gift.

We wandered through Frye and Patagonia with no place to be – sipping hot drinks and breathing in the smell of possibilities. Every time I’m in a Patagonia, I feel more adventurous, more sporty, more fit. That’s incredible branding.

Eventually, we made our way to the movie theater (but not without stopping first at the Spice and Tea Exchange for fresh thyme and garlic). We saw Her and talked endlessly after about the beautiful, sticks-with-you script. After, we debated where to go for dinner, but it was never really a question. So we drove all the way across town to my old neighborhood, Bloomingdale, for dinner at the newest “it” spot: The Red Hen.

We got there after 8:30 – a late dinner – and still there was a 2 hour wait for a table. We opted to sit at the bar instead and still waited 40 minutes for seats. I sipped on Prosecco as Zan rotated through nearly their entire list of orange wines. I’ve never seen a wine list with so many orange options. It’s such a funky wine – every one I’ve ever tried – but I dig it.

When we finally got seats, we didn’t waste time putting in our order. We shared a bottle of our favorite of the orange wines and started the meal with a beet salad for him and the Brussels sprouts for me. I don’t usually like beet salads, but the mint and caper vinaigrette kept me coming back for a few more bites. The Brussels were crispy with dill and an anchovy aioli. I wasn’t sure what to think when I read the description, but it goes to show I should think less and try more. They were delicious.

For our main courses, I was torn between several but had to try the much-raved about rigatoni with fennel sausage. I’ve seen it listed as one of the best dishes in DC on several local sites. After my first bite, I described it to Zan as, “better than I could make at home!” Reading that back now, I’m laughing, but I make homemade sauces and cook with Italian sausage so often that I have it down to an art form (for my taste buds at least!). I struggle ordering pasta at restaurants because I always think I could recreate it and should try something I can’t cook on my own. This dish blew anything I could even attempt out of the water.

Zan tried the grilled short ribs with “potato puree.” So he had ribs and mashed potatoes. It was beautifully presented and so deep with flavor that it deserves the fancier name. We finished our bottle of wine for dessert.

It was such a fun dinner. Lately, with so much stress from studying for the GRE and applying to grad school, traveling, and getting his place ready to rent behind us, we’ve been having so much fun together. Fun like we don’t have a care in the world. We may not get many times in life to feel so care-free, and I’m relishing every second of it.

It didn’t hurt that The Red Hen is completely beautiful with an atmosphere that demands care-free fun. The bar is a wide, open arc. The wood fire stove is visible from any spot in the whole place. It smells of homemade sauces and rich meats. It’s romantic without trying too hard to be so. It feels organic, just like the Saturdays we’ve been having lately.