Our first stop was the Dim Sum Brunch at Buddakan, which I was excited about because I have a great love for both dim sum and Buddakan. Double win! We arrived a few minutes late, and were ushered into seats at the main table, which you can see here:

Unfortunately, in my greatly hungover state, I forgot to snag a menu, and it was much too dark inside for food pictures. But I will tell you that everything was amazing, and my favorite dishes were the ribs and pork dumplings. Van Gogh vodka sponsored a lot of the events, including this one, so there were some signature cocktails, as well as a sparkling sake that rocked my world. Here’s the thing about drinking at brunch after drinking the night before: one cocktail makes you instantly feel better, and three doubles your hangover. Guess which one I went with?

But! I haven’t told you the best part of brunch! It was hosted by none other than Ted Allen, who was seated next to none other than me! Well, there was a woman in between us, but don’t think I wasn’t practically sitting in her lap so I could chat with him. And chat I did! He lives in Brooklyn, as do I, so we had a discussion about Brooklyn restaurants and Bloody Marys. His favorite restaurant in his neighborhood, Fort Greene, is No. 7, in case you were wondering.

After brunch, we walked through The Pier Shops at Caesars, the mall which houses Buddakan, and when we saw this hanging sculpture, Evan said, “Look! It’s every single one of your necklaces!” It’s true, I’m quite fond of multicolored, long, beady things:

After Evan finished making fun of my jewelry, we went for a stroll through The Grand Market, which is exactly what it sounds like: a massive market with food and booze samples, packaged food vendors and culinary demos. It was a lot less crowded this year, but I was too full from brunch to partake as much as I would have liked.

There were many more afternoon events, but we wanted some chill time so we headed over to the Spa at Bally’s, where we spent a couple of hours jumping from the pool to the jacuzzi, to the sauna and back. I was able to sweat out all of my remaining alcohol, and was pumped for the next event: Conde Nast Traveler’s Taste the World: Grapes & Global Tapas, at The Pool at Harrah’s.

The Pool is a club with, you guessed it, a big pool in the middle, surrounded on all sides by jacuzzis. As we walked through, I couldn’t help but wonder how many people fall in on a typical Friday or Saturday night. It’s worth noting that Jason Stackhouse was on the celebrity wall. Anyway, here are some pics from the event, which featured amazing tapas and entirely too many desserts, all of which I of course felt obligated to try.

After that, we headed back to Caesar’s for Sweet & Stylish Hosted by Sandra Lee. I’m going to be completely honest here — I’ve never been a huge Sandra Lee fan. And there’s no reason I should be. As a trained chef and admittedly, something of a food snob, I’m not her demographic. At all. But I like clothes and cocktails, so I was down for the event.

WELL. First of all, Sandra Lee was both delightful and charming, and girlfriend’s shoes and outfit were FIERCE. Had I known there would be a billion desserts at this event, I would not have hit them so hard at the tapas one. But alas, I did, so I didn’t have any there. I did have some of Sandra’s Semi-Homemade cocktails, though, and they were yummy. And Ron Duprat from the 6th season of Top Chef was there. And the cloths were all courtesy of Betsey Johnson, who, should I ever become famous, will have the sole pleasure(?) of dressing me for fancy events. Here are some photos:

Next up: one last event on day three, then I have to cover the Martha Stewart Bloggers’ Night Out, which I attended last night. Being a fancy lady who attends foodie events all the time is pretty taxing.

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Here’s the thing about the Filet-O-Fish Sandwich. Not only is it a fast food item, which opens it for ridicule anyway, but it’s a particularly embarrassing item. People may wrinkle their noses at you if you say you ate at McDonald’s, but they will downright shame you if you say you ate a Filet-O-Fish Sandwich. And I get it, I really do. But here’s the thing about that sandwich — it’s delicious.

So that’s my #1 guilty food pleasure. Here are my other four:

2. Doritos
I probably would have given up Doritos a long time ago, but they keep coming up with new, intriguing flavors. If I see a new Doritos flavor, I can’t not buy a bag. It’s physically impossible. This is especially a problem when I travel to other countries. Because then I’m the stupid American running around Japan with a bag of Tuna Mayonnaise Doritos, and it just reflects badly, on both me and my country. To up the guilt factor even more, one of my favorite combos is Cool Ranch Doritos with French onion dip. That’s right. I said it. Don’t knock it ’til you try it.

3. Boxed macaroni and cheese with canned tuna fish and frozen peas
Growing up with a single mom meant lots of convenience foods, like boxed mac ‘n’ cheese. To her credit, she always tried to dress it up, and sneak a veggie or two in. One night, she threw this together and I was hooked. It’s my ultimate comfort food.

4. Pringles
You know how women tend to crave chocolate when they have PMS? Not me. I crave Pringles. HARD. Usually both on the side of, and within, a turkey sandwich on a hard roll.

5. Drakes Apple Fruit Pies
If I see these in a vending machine, I buy them, and then hide myself away somewhere to eat them without anyone noticing. Luckily, I don’t find myself near vending machines all that often, and when I do, they don’t often contain Drakes Apple Fruit Pies.

What are your guilty food pleasures? Come on, fess up!

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On Friday afternoon, we hopped on the ACES Train to Atlantic City. Once we arrived, we checked into our room at Bally’s, relaxed a bit, grabbed a bite because we were starving, and then headed down to the Maker’s Mark Cigar and Whisky Gala at Sammy’s Beach Bar. Evan’s company, Smoke Magazine, sponsored the event, but as a sponsor, he didn’t have much to do, so we chatted with cigar guys, drank some of the new Maker’s 46, which is now my new favorite bourbon, and ate some hors d’oeuvres. Then Tanya arrived, and we did more of the above. Here are some photos:

Evan welcomes you to the event with Crazy Eyes

At the Maker's Mark table, where the free shots got considerably (and perhaps wisely) smaller as the night went on

At beach bars, hors d'ouevres are served by girls in bikinis, naturally

Up next: Day 2, which includes a hangover, dim sum with Ted Allen, tapas by the pool and a fashion show with cocktails and cupcakes

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If you know me in real life, you know that I have a thing for flamingos. I have a flamingo tattoo on the back of my neck, and own flamingo-themed t-shirts, jewelry, glassware and stuffed animals. The reason is these amazing women who I count among my oldest, dearest friends.

At Camp Fowler, the boys’ cabins are named after woodland animals (though some of my bad teenage poetry graces the walls of said cabins) and the girls’ cabins are named after woodland birds. One year, a new cabin was built, and was to be named the Owl cabin. Abby, Amanda, Holly and I (and the fifth member of our group, who defected and therefore shall not be named) decided that, since there was no sign affixed to the cabin yet, we’d take some creative license and call ourselves the Flamingo cabin. We annoyed the crap out of the camp staff and volunteers, refusing to answer to “Owl,” and finally, everyone relented and started referring to us as the flamingos. And it stuck throughout our remaining years at camp, and beyond.

Despite living in different cities and states, and weddings, moves and babies, we still manage to get together every year. This past weekend found us in Nashua, NH, at Holly’s house. Our weekends tend to revolve around food, and eating at Holly’s was a treat, because she has an amazing garden.

Here’s the lunch spread from Saturday:

Believe me when I say I could eat bakery-fresh bread, garlic scape hummus, pesto, raw milk cheese, avocados, carrots, fresh edamame, tomatoes, cucumbers and herb butter every day. All the produce was from her garden, and we found the plums on a tree outside her office. I couldn’t eat plums every day, though, as I’m not a big fan of raw fruit.

Lest you think we eat like total hippies all weekend, you should know that we also drank a whole lot of wine and ate a whole lot of candy, and went out to a pub one night, where we consumed a whole lot of fried food. And there was ice cream, too. I like to think that this lunch, and our breakfasts made with fresh eggs from Amanda’s chicken coop, balanced everything out.

And here we all all dressed up for our big night out. From left: Abby, Holly, Me, Amanda

If no one has any more babies, the next reunion’s going to be in Brooklyn. Let that be a warning to you, NYC.

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If you live in New York City, or on most of the East coast, you know it’s hot this summer. So, so hot. So hot, in fact, that it’s making me rethink that whole moving to New Orleans someday thing. And that makes cooking a challenge.

Bulgur is something that I’ve eaten many times in restaurants, but never really made at home. It’s not a particularly sexy grain. When I need to make a grain, I tend to either go with something fun like millet, quinoa or polenta, or stick with my old stand-by, brown rice. But a few weeks ago, I had a ton of leftover parsley and mint and immediately thought of making tabbouleh. So I went out and got some bulgur.

Here’s the thing I discovered about bulgur. You don’t have to cook it. At all. You can cook it, but a good soak will make it perfectly edible. The water doesn’t even have to be hot. With constant 95 degree, humid weather, bulgur just got a whole lot sexier.

There’s my aforementioned tabbouleh. It’s not as herby as the traditional version because 1) I made it to use up leftover herbs, and buying additional herbs would have left me where I started — with leftover herbs and 2) I find the classic tabbouleh recipe a little overwhelming, herb-wise. I mean, I like herbs, I even love them, but sometimes when I order tabbouleh out in a restaurant, I feel like I’m just eating a plate of fresh herbs. And the mint is often aggressive, which makes me sad.

The thing I’m really liking about bulgur is that it’s a great vehicle for using up any kind of fresh produce. I can just chop up whatever I have in the fridge, toss it in with a little lemon and olive oil, or a vinaigrette, and I have a healthy meal. And I don’t even have to light a burner on the stove.

We can survive global warming if we have bulgur, people. Remember that.

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve had terrible skin. It’s always been the one thing I wish I could change about myself. I have large pores, and when I say “large” I mean “vast caverns of crater-like pockets covering the surface of my face.” I’ve also historically been prone to breakouts. I thought the latter was something I’d grow out of, but the joke was on me. I didn’t.

In my quest to have smooth, poreless skin, I’ve tried just about every moisturizer on the market, with mixed, but mostly underwhelming, results. When I first decided to go 100% natural, I tried both aloe and coconut oil. Both helped with the breakouts, but did nothing to improve the look of my skin overall.

In Ani’s Raw Food Kitchen by Ani Phyo (I am such an Ani Phyo fan-girl), she mentioned using hemp oil as moisturizer. I was intrigued. After scouring Brooklyn and asking for help on Facebook, I found a health food store within walking distance that had one bottle left that they couldn’t move and would give to me at a discount.

When I opened the bottle, I was skeptical. Hemp oil is thick, green and smells like freshly-cut grass. It seemed way too heavy for the skin on my face. But I applied it, and within minutes, the wrinkles around my eyes diminished. I decided to apply it a couple of times a day and see where it took me.

It’s been over a month now, and my skin has never looked better. I haven’t even been wearing foundation, because I don’t need it. My skin tone is even, my face is clear, and some sun-damage spots have lightened up. Evan has remarked on the change in my skin several times, and when I went to my brilliant hairstylist Amy Gerber for a haircut last week, she exclaimed “Your skin is glowing! What are you using?”

It’s pretty safe to say that I’m never going back to store-bought moisturizers again. And as an added bonus, it’s done wonders for the psoriasis I have on my elbows.

Some fun facts about hemp oil: (Well, fun if you’re a nerd like me and get into that sort of stuff) it’s the only oil that has the perfect balance of Omega 3 and 6 essential fatty acids. Plus, it has a natural SPF of 6, which I discovered after a day out in the sun sans sunscreen, when I burned everywhere except my face. It should be bought in small quantities and stored in the refrigerator, because it only has a shelf life of about three months once it’s been opened. You can even eat it, and while I have yet to do so, the Internets tell me it’s very good for you. I’ve been meaning to make a salad dressing with it — when I do, I’ll post the recipe.

Next up: Later, Shampoo.

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Anyway, I’ve got a guest blog post up there, and you should check it out. And if you’re a soup enthusiast, she’s looking for contributors.

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I’m looking for something a little more in-depth than “I don’t have time” or “I’m really tired when I get home from work.” Here’s some examples of reasons I’ve gotten from my friends, after no small amount of badgering:

• “I don’t know how to cut vegetables, so a recipe that would take you minutes in prep would take me an hour.”
• “I don’t know how to make healthy food taste good, so I end up buying a boring salad for lunch every day.”
• “Whenever I buy fresh produce, I don’t end up using it all before it goes bad so I don’t bother.”
• “I hate following recipes, and I get sick of making the same three things I know how to make over and over.”

So tell me, what keeps YOU from cooking for yourself? Leave me a comment, or use my handy contact form. I’ll solve your kitchen dilemma AND give you an on-air shout-out! Double win!

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When I was in my South Beach Diet phase, I became enamored with their recipe for mini-frittatas. I would make a cupcake pan’s worth of them, freeze or refrigerate them and then chow down on two before leaving for work in the morning. (Seriously sad confession — I used to put shredded cheese and bacon bits in them, but in my defense, I was like 24 and completely clueless about nutrition.)

I’m no longer a low-carb girl, or an extreme dieter, but I do still love me some frittatas. They’re economical, delicious and a great way to use up leftover produce. I try to make a big kitchen-sink one every Sunday morning, and then have the leftovers early the next week.

Because I rarely plan ahead when it comes to feeding myself (I’m working on it, though), I tend to eat like a crazy person when I’m busy, eating things like popcorn for breakfast, or kimchi wrapped in a tortilla for lunch. Yesterday, I had a late afternoon job interview in Manhattan, followed by a kickboxing class in Brooklyn, and there wasn’t much time for food. By the time I got home, I was starving, but didn’t have the energy to make anything, so I shoved some whole wheat pita and yogurt in my face, and started dreaming about this morning’s breakfast.

Here it is:

1 whole egg, 1 egg white, 1 pinch each of oregano, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper, along with some red onion, garlic, tomato, feta cheese and kalamata olives baked in a ramekin at 350 degrees until set. I served it up with some leftover tabbouleh I had lying around. It was heaven. In fact, I wish I’d made two, because I have another job interview tomorrow and will be, once again, running around and eating spoonfuls of grape jelly in lieu of a meal. Oh well.

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