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Travel is Meant to be Shared

Parispastry

I hate it when friends go to Paris.

Well, not for them. I’m all for it, and delight in the fact that they get to experience a great food city.

I hate it for me, since I can’t go along.

Even worse is when they send tantalizing photos back with captions like, “Don’t you wish you could lick the pan?”

Yeah, that’s the kind of friends I have.

Oh, I realize that turnabout is fair play. I have the sort of job that often sends me to great food cities, and I delight in posting photos and commentary across all of my social media sites (Facebook, Twitter, Posterous, Pinterous, Foursquare . . . you get the picture).

And I know those photos make people drool, and make them wish they were along. I wish they were, too, because great food experiences are made to be shared, particularly with those friends who share your passion for food.

So, to a certain person who just returned from Paris: Thanks for the photos. They remind me of my first visit to a Paris creperie, where I ordered the daily special in spite of not knowing a thing that might come in it—and how even the memories of that first bite cause me to swoon. They remind me of my visit to an apple orchard and the fresh-pressed cider they handed me. They remind me of Parisian coffee at the top of the Eiffel Tower and at a small little sidewalk cafe. Most of all, they remind me it’s time for me to start saving for a trip.

I’m truly glad you had a great time. I’m glad you got to eat amazing pastries and see renowned sites. I’m happy for you.

Really.

But next time, take me. Or leave your camera behind. 

 

(Photo by Joy Robertson. Who did, at least, bring me chocolate.)

Filed under  //   Europe   Paris   chocolate  
Posted May 10, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

The Conversation of Food

Bullet_train

I’m not really a people person.

I’m rarely the one to start a conversation with a stranger.

I’ve been known to pretend I didn’t see someone just because I didn’t feel like putting myself out to be pleasant.

I didn’t say it was an attractive quality.

But I’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who will put themselves out there to be helpful.

One of my notable experiences with this was in Japan. My husband and I had been visiting our community’s Sister City, Isesaki, during my term on our local organization’s board of directors. We’d been treated like royalty for a week, with every amenity and assistance provided, including atranslator. We had extended our trip by a second week, however, and when our host family put us on the Shinkansen bullet train and waved goodbye, we were on our own.

We did well figuring out the train system and making our way to Kyoto, Hiroshima, and places along the way. But it was on a trip to see the Miata factory that we had a misstep. We didn’t realize it until we saw that our appointment time for the tour was approaching, and the train wasn’t stopping.

A young man on the train saw our consternation—in fact, he could probably understand our English conversation, although like many Japanese may have been reluctant to respond in English for fear of making a mistake. He wrote out on a piece of paper directions for us as to when to get off, and how to get onto a connecting train and go in the opposite direction to get to the factory—we had inadvertently gotten on an express train that made few stops!

The relief when he handed us that paper and we understood both our problem and the solution was palpable, and many grins and bows of thanks were exchanged. He could have sat there thinking, “not my problem what these dumb Americans do.” But he took the time to help, meaning we got there in time for our tour and lunch appointment with plant officials.

I saw it again this week with a simple thing like finding a good restaurant. While discussing options from a local guide with a co-worker, I listed off a few choices. A man standing nearby chimed in and told us his top two favorites, making it easy for us to decide since we now had a location recommendation.

So, while I’m not personally good at starting conversations, I’m appreciative when others venture to do so in order to help me out. Particularly when it comes to food.

Let the conversation begin.

Posted May 3, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Leftovers

Quiche2

I love leftovers. They’ve begun to symbolize making the most of a meal.

We see it in the large portions served at many restaurants—enough to take home for a second meal. Some people are even beginning to divide the meal and put it into a take out box before they take the first bite, ensuring that they don’t eat too much. It can be fun to take it to work the next day, or serve the leftovers at your own home the next night—sort of a two for the price of one philosophy.

My mother tells the story of, years ago as a newly married couple, being invited over for dinner by some friends. When the roast came out, the worried hostess looked at it and said, “I hope there are leftovers. We’re having someone else for dinner tomorrow.” My hungry parents barely dared to eat, wanting to make sure the meal would stretch! I’m sure that roast had looked huge at the supermarket; not so huge once it had cooked. But still, it was a two for one experience.

Today I helped host a wedding shower for a close friend. We each had our assigned food to bring, and I’d drawn the quiche. Knowing it was coming up, I’d purchased an extra big ham at Easter, then tucked away enough of the great Honeybaked ham to use for the quiche. I know my son-in-law wondered why I didn’t send more of the leftovers home with him, but I had another “two-for-one” experience in mind!

As I cut the ham into small cubes, it was satisfying to know that I’d made the most of one purchase.

So, be deliberate about your leftovers. It means you had one fabulous meal that you managed to turn into two (or more), whether for diet, economy, or simply convenience. It means you are making the most of what you have.

I think there’s a life lesson in there somewhere.

For the quiche recipe, go to:

http://www.foodchannel.com/recipes/recipe/ham-and-emmentaler-swiss-cheese-quiche/

Posted April 21, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Quit Following Me

Branchout

Quit following me.

I mean, really. It was OK when it was just Facebook (pre-Timeline). It was even acceptable to have to manage a personal account and a business account.

I shrugged a bit when Twitter came along, but allowed it into my life—how time-consuming could 140 characters be?

Linked In was there, but no one was using it unless they wanted a job or a sale. But, OK, I threw my name in since I’m a professional. (But then, so were the guys in Spinal Tap.)

Before I go further, please understand I’m not anti-social (much), nor am I anti-communications. I have a master’s degree in communication, for pity’s sake. I believe in connecting, networking, and talking to each other. Introvert that I am, I even prefer doing it online. So you’d think I’d be embracing all of the virtual opportunities, right?

Not so much. Oh, I’ve tried.

I played with various apps, including Foursquare, mostly to find what restaurants were nearby when I traveled. But now, checking in means a bunch of strangers know I’m not home.

Google+ invitations started popping up, so I logged on and created an account. And haven’t used it since.

And Pinterest? I signed up to check it out and somehow immediately had all sorts of people following me. That’s when I broke. I started telling my computer, “I’m not doing anything interesting! Make them stop following me!”

Now it’s BranchOut, the new Facebook app for career networking that apparently has 13 million users. Requests have started popping up, and, for now at least, I’m ignoring them. I’m not alone. I noticed one comment on Facebook that said, “Please stop sending me BranchOut requests. I’m going to have to start deleting you.”

Are we poised for revolt? After all, the pressure is mounting. We have to be interesting for our followers to stay engaged. We need to be witty, and brilliant, and available 24/7.  It won’t be surprising if we collectively start to say, “Enough.”

So, I don’t really want you to stop following me. I want to be the one who is engaging, and witty, and brilliant. I want to be wanted. We all do.

But, maybe you could follow me from afar.

At least until I do something interesting.

Filed under  //   branchout   facebook   foursquare   linked in   pinterest   social media   technology   twitter  
Posted April 17, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Time to Gas Up the Grill

Shishkebob

“Do we have enough fuel in the tank?”

We were gearing up for a dinner party for eight, and I was concerned about the grill. We hadn’t used it much last year, and it was the first time to uncover it this year. But I wanted to do shish-ke-bob, and could just picture those lovely grill marks on the marinated meat and vegetables.

“Plenty,” my husband assured me. “Remember, we hardly used it last year.”

“Which is what worries me,” I said (bordering on nagging). “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” he said.

I should have nagged.

Halfway through the cooking, the grill ran out of gas.

Luckily for him, our company had arrived, and so I settled for a few glares and a look that said, “We’ll talk about this later.”

He had the sense to say, “I’m sorry,” and cheerfully distracted the guests while I made room in the oven to finish the kebobs.

On the bright side, we’re hosting a graduation party in a few weeks and promised something yummy from the grill. You can be sure the gas tank will be full.

For more tips on getting your grill on, plus a great video showing how to cook a steak to perfection, check out the links below.

Meanwhile, I have an “I was right” speech to perfect. Maybe I’ll have him make it up to me by grilling the perfect steak. We happen to have a few tips for that . . .

http://www.foodchannel.com/articles/article/get-your-grill/

http://www.foodchannel.com/shows/spill/how-grill-perfect-steak/

http://barbequelovers.com/grills/how-to-get-your-bbq-grill-ready-for-summer


Posted April 16, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Feed Me

Feedme

I’ve been looking at a lot of food websites lately to catch up on some of the latest. Some of the ones I used to follow have dropped off the radar. Others are consolidating. I think it’s an indicator of how hard this business of content creation can be.

Websites used to be brochureware—your company brochure in electronic form. But the Web has changed; it’s growing into the promise of what we thought it could be in the early days. It allows for interactivity. Conversations. Sharing. But most company websites are not built for interactivity, conversation, or sharing. They are one way.

Worse, that one-way information gets dated really quickly. I heard about a company (OK, I heard about several companies) who are excitedabout plans to refresh their content every six months. That’s about four times faster than they do it now. And, sadly, it won’t make much difference.

Because websites are like people. They have to be fed regularly, daily, even hourly if they are going to grow.

This isn’t a tech blog, and it’s not even a business blog—it’s about food. But I can’t resist asking: How’s your feeding program?

Posted April 12, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Balancing Act

Balance

I get tickled when I see this photo. It’s just a quick iPhone shot I took of a sign posted in a conference room in our Chicago office. The room had been reserved last week for me, and our Creative Director, David, so we could spread out our computers and gear while working on a big scripting and editing project.

It amuses me for two reasons. First, the letters were just a little off balance. Not sure if the paper got skewed in the printing process, or if it was done that way on purpose. When working with creative people, you never really know.

And, it amuses me because balance was exactly what we needed during this project (and I don’t mean the conference room).

We were coming off weeks worth of mostly separate projects that had exhausted us with travel, long hours, and lots of decisions. We still had several projects ahead of us, and yet this one required full and complete attention in order to deliver a quality product to our client. We needed balance.

I’ve often said that balance is what my four years in college gave me. It may be that those are maturing years anyway, but I specifically remember some professors talking about the importance of finding a balance in life. It instilled something in me that, perhaps, continues to keep me from swinging out of control.

Because balance is middle ground. It allows you to work well with others, find the points of commonality, move toward the edge together so that the center moves with you instead of tipping you over.

Balance acknowledges that you are living an intricate life, one in which your choices impact whether you stay on the seesaw, or get dumped onto the group.

Balance shows you are working at mastering the delicate . . . well, balance . . . that is this life.

Balancing your commitments. Your ego. Your energy.

I ran into the director of a local not-for-profit organization this morning. I’d been contacted about being on their board of directors, and I was tempted since it’s an organization that interests me; I appreciate and admire their work. And yet, adding another meeting commitment just might have been the straw that broke my back, so I had regretfully declined, suggesting some other names in the process.

One of those people had been able to accept—and, truthfully, she is much better positioned to fulfill what they need right now than I am, anyway. The kind director told me, “Yours was a godly ‘no,’ and we accepted it as such.”

That’s balance.

Another example: I had agreed to an event that, annually, requires my attendance in our Chicago office, but when I realized the date this year conflicted with my son-in-law’s graduation from college, I made arrangements to do my interviews in advance instead of on-site. My daughter wants to use our house for a small party for him; his parents are coming into town from out-of-state; and, I want to be there to honor him at the ceremony and subsequent celebrations. Family has to be in the equation, and they are weighted a little more heavily than just about anything else.

That’s balance.

I didn’t say it was easy. I am the type who wants to do it all (and on most days I’m the type who thinks I can). But that thinking can very quickly get you off balance and, as my mother used to say, flat on your fanny.

So, anytime someone wants to reserve a little extra balance for me, I’m all about it.

You’ll find me in the conference room. Practicing my balance.

 

 

 

 

Filed under  //   balance   perspective  
Posted March 29, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Why Grandparents are Important

Grandpa

Grandparents must be the latest trend. I’ve seen references to grandparents a lot lately. It makes sense—Baby Boomers are rapidly becoming grandparents, so the focus is on their new role. 

A new book about parenting, “Marriage Rules”, says, “Be kind to your kin—especially grandparents.”

My friend Sue Duffield (a great public speaker) uses this line on her Facebook profile as her goal in life: “To become all that my grandparents thought I could be.”

And I heard that hospitals are now offering grandparenting courses for those who are helping to raise the new baby.

I’m all for it. I love grandparents. Of course, I realize I’m one of the lucky ones.

My children have been able to know their grandparents. We have three of the four left, and, although she’s been gone 10 years, memories of “Mom-Mom” are never far away. She was the type of grandmother who kissed skinned knees and fixed their favorite foods.

Pop-Pop is still the patriarch—the one who went to the emergency room with our son to help him buck up in the face of stitches. “See all my scars?” he said, pulling up his pant leg to show off his knee surgery. “You’ve got a long way to go to catch up to me!”

Then we have Grandma and Grandpa, or G & G, as we call them. At age 82 each, they are a pair, and have been for more than 60 years. Grandma is the type to make sure essential skills are practiced, always ready to play a word or numbers game with the kids. Her chocolate pies are still a favorite of her grandkids, and she always pays attention to favorite foods and favorite things to do, often surprising us with a gift of something she thought we would like.

Grandpa is the one we turn to for everything official—the prayers, advice, and everyday wisdom. He's done marriage ceremonies (as pictured), served on boards, and been the example of a leader for us all. He’s the one who sold our son his first vehicle, giving him a good deal and his first loan in the process—with some great lessons in accountability. He’s the one who helps with career planning and business decisions, because he’s lived it. 

I can’t imagine not being kind to people who will do that for your children. I can’t image not wanting to live up to their high expectations. Sure, I know families have arguments, and people cut ties and hold grudges. I also know that they are the losers in that scenario. There is no need to create an unnecessary gap in lives where grandparents and great-grandparents should go. I’ll just say it: We lose them soon enough. Treasure them while you can.

Grandparents offer hugs and comfort. They create food and a place to stay. They give wise counsel and the occasional wake up call. And,through it all, they offer unconditional love and kindness. It’s whatgrandparents do.

I had three grandparents that I knew while growing up, but really got to spend time with during my college years. My widowed grandma let me live with her one summer when my job kept me in a different town than the rest of the family. She gave me recipes, books, and advice on how to treat my boyfriend (“Nice young ladies don’t sit in boy’s laps,” was one reminder).

My other set of grandparents picked me up each Saturday and took me out for pancakes, called me “dear,” and seemed pleased when I’d come sit with them in church. I got the chance to hear their stories, learn whatmade them laugh, listen as they prayed for the family members, and sit across the table and learn their favorite foods. For example, Grandpa, a native Brit, loved English muffins and marmalade. I adopted them as my own favorites years ago, in his honor.

These were the same grandparents who, in my early childhood years, kept a bin of children’s toys in the study for all of the grandchildren—Lincoln Logs, pick up sticks, and a few board games all kept us occupied while the adults talked. And my other grandma had a library of books that went on forever—I still remember the treasures inside books such as Mill on the Floss by George Eliot that I would never have discovered without her.

Yes, there can be issues no one on the outside of the family can understand. And, yes, at times family dynamics can be uncomfortable. That’s when simple kindness comes in handy.

So, take the pop culture advice. Be kind to your grandparents. Grow up to be all they expected you to be.

It’s fair reward for all they do for us. 

Filed under  //   advice   family   grandparent  
Posted March 15, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

The Writer's Block

Photo

Anyone watching the new television show "Smash" knows that the writer's
part, portrayed by Debra Messing, shows she's a little behind in writing
"the book." And that's a completely accurate portrayal of a writer.

You see, I love to write. My friends know I've carried a notebook with me
for years (although it's morphed into my iPhone notes of late) to record
thoughts, ideas, random titles that occur to me. And, while I'm seemingly
always writing, I'll do anything to avoid writing.

That's right. I may have an assignment deadline, and I'll still do
anything before I sit down to actually write. I'll do the dishes (which I
hate). I'll clean (which I hate more). I'll even sort my closet or clean
off my desk. And don't even get me started on all the technology
opportunities that allow me to avoid writing. Hello, Words With Friends.
At this very moment I'm actually on deadline, with people waiting to see
one of a series of articles I have due. But I figure I have two hours.
I'll get it done.

It's not that writers need the stress. It is, however, why we need
deadlines. Because in a writer's world, the piece is still being written
and re-written in our heads. Actually putting it down in words, and
letting someone else read them, means it's out of our hands. Not to
trivialize the pain, but it's as though we've given birth and given the
baby away.

Of course it's something you put off as long as possible.

I can't explain why something you love to do is so difficult to get
started, anymore than I can explain where ideas come from, or how they
germinate in the writer's brain. Probably like all writers, I've had ideas
that I could immediately sit down and write about, with a clear and
comprehensive open, middle, close. And, I've had ones that I've thought
about for years and years and still haven't quite figured out the full
story.

Typical writer's block is about not being able to pursue a complete
thought around an assignment. But the writer's block that gets me is
self-mad. It's that block I unconsciously put up that keeps me from getting
started, or keeps me from finishing. To break through that block, I need a
deadline. I need the support of co-workers. I need enough sleep. And I
usually need coffee.

Yes, I love to write. And, I hate to write. And I completely get how Debra
Messing's character is struggling with "the book."

But I know it will get done. Ultimately, the writer will write.

Filed under  //   writer's block   writing  
Posted March 6, 2012 by Kay Logsdon 
 

Wedding Gift for the Bride and Groom

Photo4

I should never leave my husband in charge of the wedding gifts.

Or, maybe I should.

A recent business trip meant I was going to have to miss the wedding of a young
couple whose lives interchanged with ours in a variety of ways.

It looked like a fun one, too. They had chosen to get married at our local
little theatre, with the stage set for the current play, Guys & Dolls.
This was a couple with a sense of humor, and a joy of life.

So, before leaving I set out the wedding gift, a Williams-Sonoma Bride &
Groom cookbook. It¹s a favorite of mine, and the feedback we get from
young couples over the years has been completely positive. We¹ve learned
that, even when young people know how to cook, they love discovering the
joy of cooking together. And, when they don¹t really know how to cook on a
daily basis, a good cookbook becomes an essential kitchen tool.

So, I left the gift, a card, and instructions for him to buy a nice gift
bag. I made sure his Outlook was updated with the date, time and
location of the wedding. And I left town.

The day of the wedding, he remembered to go, and sent photos from the
event by text message so I could share in some of the fun. It didn¹t
occur to me to ask about the gift.

Until, the next day, he confessed that he had forgotten to take the gift.
He ran out, though, while they were taking photos, picked it up,
bought a gift bag, and filled out the card.

It said, "I hope your passion for life carries over to the dining room
table."

And that, folks, is why I should never leave my husband in charge of the
wedding gifts.

Photo: A display showcasing the Bride & Groom cookbook choices at
Williams-Sonoma in Columbus Circle in New York City.

Posted March 3, 2012 by Kay Logsdon