A Local Farm

The day after Thanksgiving we took a day trip to visit Profitt Family Farms – a ranch in Kings Mountain that raises organic chicken and grass-fed cattle.
Just 35 minutes after leaving Downtown Charlotte we arrived and found ourselves surrounded by acres of green pasture. In New York, 35 minutes would get me three quarters of the way to the Great Lawn in Central Park, four miles from my apartment, where Manhattanites graze.

Green Acres were not the only thing that surrounded us. A quick look around and we realized that we were also surrounded by ridiculously, jaw-droppingly good looking people. Scott gestured toward a man in a blue flannel shirt, cowboy hat, muscular physique and a square jaw that looked angular enough to crack walnuts. He looked more suited for a classic Western than at a family farm holding a toddler in his arms.

Moments after we saw the Marlboro Man, as our friend Jen called him, we saw a tall blonde walking out of the farm house. With long golden hair that flowed in the breeze and skinny jeans tucked into tall riding boots, I wasn’t sure if she was a member of the family farm or Gwenyth Paltrow filming a Pantene commercial. Twenty feet away, Scott spotted another attractive figure. With a sun drenched complexion, wind-swept hair extending long under a weathered cowboy hat, faded Levi’s and a pair of worn leather gloves tucked into the back pocket, I saw visions of Jennifer Anniston in character as a farm hand.

We all agreed that they would make a great reality show.

Our visit wasn’t all about gawking at beautiful people. Our guide Tanner walked us through the fields of pastures and explained how they herd cattle to graze on one section at a time. Apparently cattle have preferences and if they were allowed to roam free in a large open field, they’d eat all the four-leaf clovers first and leave all the tall grasses behind. I guess tall grasses are for cattle what broccoli is for humans.

The farm breeds its own cattle and Tanner told us about a calf that was rejected by her mother at birth. They had to bottle-feed her for four months and nicknamed her “Precious.” Once you name an animal you can no longer see it as meat. So thanks to her mother’s rejection, Precious is now being groomed to be a mother instead of beef.

Next he led us to the stables to see the horses. Two stuck their noses out to be petted. I was taken by one named Fireball who just stood there in profile, aloof and dignified, as if posing for a portrait. Beyond the horses there were a couple of empty stalls. It crossed my mind that the real family was hiding in there while a group of models took over as hosts for the day.

The real attraction was the tour of the chicken coop led by 11-year old Dewi. With the experience and tone of one who’s done this hundreds of times, he told us about the flock of guinea fowls that are mean and nasty but they keep them around to eat bugs. He told us about the Ameraucanas that lay blue eggs, the Plymouth Rocks that like to wander off to the driveway, and the rooster that was hatched from an egg found under the chicken coop. We would have asked him a dozen more questions about chickens if his little cousin hadn’t come along pleading with his big brown eyes and basketball clutched to his chest for his playmate to finish working.

At the farm store we learned about cuts of beef that we never see in a supermarket. When cattle are “processed” in mass quantity, only the standard cuts of meat are made available and a whole lot becomes ground meat and sausage. At this farm, cattle are butchered in small quantities and more unusual cuts are available, like Coulette Steaks and Petit Tenders that are supposed to be amazing.
The storekeeper swore that she could taste the difference between supermarket beef and their organic grass-fed beef. Allegedly the daughter of the family could even taste the difference between grass-fed beef raised by different farms.

It was time we did our own taste test. We finished the day on the family porch enjoying the fruits – in this case grilled cheeseburgers – of their labor.

Thanksgiving

We started the day with the Turkey Trot.

The 8K race is a Charlotte Thanksgiving tradition and we figured it was a good way to work up an appetite for the day ahead. I was worried since I’ve had no training; I’d only run once, for 30 huffy minutes, in over a month.

OK maybe we did train a little. On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, we dashed from store to store and closed them all down. We closed the farmers’ market at 7pm, William-Sonoma at 8, Crate & Barrel at 8:30, Belk at 9, Sur La Table at 9:30, a quick dinner then Harris Teeter at 11. This is in addition to running through the aisles of Lowe’s and Home Depot three times a week.

I finished the race in 50 ½ minutes and came in at 3,180 out of 4,831 (Scott did much better). It was really my strategy, ahem, to stay near the back of the pack. For one, I could see everyone’s costumes. There were lots of stuffed turkey hats. There were two shirtless men with Indian headdresses pushing strollers. In San Francisco they would have stepped it up and been naked. Then there was a woman with a green polyester skintight bodysuit that for the life of me I couldn’t figure out who she was supposed to be. I made a mental note to 1) never wear a green polyester skintight bodysuit and 2) if I were to ever wear a green polyester skintight bodysuit people better know what I’m supposed to be.

With 3,179 people ahead of me, I was also able to do an unofficial diversity census. There were 15 African Americans, 11 Asians including myself, 3 Latinos, and 4 additional people with indeterminable origin.

The night before Thanksgiving we stayed up to get a head start on our meal. I finished chopping onions and making cranberry sauce by 1:30am, and Scott roasted a 25lb pumpkin and didn’t crawl into bed until 4:30am.

He was determined to make a pumpkin pie from scratch. It was a labor of love. Besides staying up until 4:30am, Scott pureed the roasted pumpkin by hand in small batches with a borrowed immersion blender from Cat Whisperer Dave. Half of the pumpkin was enough to make four pies, even after accounting for the unrecoverable splatter on the walls during the puree process, during which I kept my head down and chopped carrots at a safe distance while trying not to wonder out loud why we didn’t buy the $3.99 version from Harris Teeters. Thankfully, the pies turned out beautifully. Using only organic agave nectar as sweetener and non-fat milk, they were better for you, which was the only excuse for having two people eat four pies.

Scott was so proud of his creation that he brought a piece to Baker Wendy who has a stand at the farmers’ market. He and Wendy have become quite friendly and he goes by twice a week to chat with her for easily half an hour about ovens, natural sweeteners, and granola. We have devised a signal for when I want to leave while they're still talking. Since it didn’t work last time to simply stay silent and give gentle nudges, next time I get impatient to leave I’m supposed to yank at his arm with force. This is going to be a useful signal moving forward.

For the other half of the pumpkin, 3/4 were cut into chunks and roasted with onions, rosemary and dried cranberries. The other 1/4 is sitting at the bottom of our refrigerator waiting to be blended into soup, or for next Thanksgiving, whichever comes first.

As for the rest of the Thanksgiving meal, we made a 15-pound turkey, yams, butternut squash, brussel sprouts and stuffing with sausage, knowing full well that the leftovers may stick around long enough to see 2012.

All of this would have been difficult without the new set of Shun knives that we splurged on. Scott was skeptical at first that the new knives made a difference. I challenged him to cut the pumpkin with the old knife, which slipped off the surface as if it were a plastic spoon. He is now a believer.

Aside from being our first Thanksgiving in Charlotte, it was a special occasion as all the kitchen equipment was now fully installed, six weeks after our move.

Alas, that spells the end of the Panini Grill era, and we’re both a little sad to see it pass.

Road Trip

This past weekend we learned that not all places south of the Mason-Dixon are created equal.


It was my best friend’s wedding and we drove to Washington DC where the wedding and other festivities were held. Two hours into it we were a quarter of the way through. That’s when I asked Scott: “Why did we decide to drive?” He didn’t remember either. It suddenly dawned on me that just because we were South of the NY border didn't mean that the cities are right next to each other.

If not for the downpour the whole way, the drive would have been beautiful. North Carolina has the prettiest tree lined highways, especially now in the fall when the leaves are turning red, orange and gold.

The drive was not a total bust. We discovered the Country Pride diner at the TA gas station/truck stop. It was a forlorn looking place with bright but cheerless fluorescent lights, empty except for a handful of truckers eating alone and staring at the counter. I’m not sure if it’s because we have started to set low expectations so we can be pleasantly surprised, but we both enjoyed our meal, even if the gelatinous neon yellow chicken noodle soup looked a bit suspect.

Everything on the menu was all you can eat. Scott could have ordered another patty melt for free but he was smart enough to know that half a pound of greasy ground chuck and bright orange cheese food was more than enough for his stomach to handle for the night.

That was the first of three all-you-can-eat restaurants we’ve visited in a week. On the drive back from DC, we ate at the Pizza Inn – a chain restaurant with a pizza buffet where Scott reminisced about the thin crust pepperoni pizza that was routinely burnt to a crisp. I don’t know what was more disturbing – the fact that I was at an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet or that we actually sought it out. Imagine my relief when he declared that it wasn’t as good as it used to be and that we never had to go back again.

Then last night, we pulled into a Golden Corral, which was as inevitable as grits in the South. There was a decent salad bar and plenty of sautéed and roasted vegetables so you can eat healthfully, theoretically. But of course, most veggies were swimming in oil, and there were also the crispy hush puppies, fried chicken, meatloaf, pot roast, and hot rolls that just begged for your attention. I ordered pan fried shrimp at the “fresh and healthy” seafood bar where I saw the cook poured half a cup of butter into the pan. Then there was the chocolate fountain where you can dip in your choice of fruit, macaroon or marshmallow on a skewer. The little girl in front of me lost her strawberry to the depths of the fountain never to be seen again, and I tried not to think about the many strawberry and pineapple chunks that might be floating in there by the end of the night when it was my turn to dip my marshmallow in the flowing chocolate sauce.

It’s a good thing our bathroom scale is out of battery.


The weather here is starting to cool although just two nights ago, it was in the low 70s and we sneaked in another round of grilling outside. We even hosted friends in our corner of the parking lot. Living by Dave’s philosophy that anything that can be charred can be grilled, we threw on bokchoy, leeks and even steamed Chinese-style fish in aluminum foil packets filled with ginger and scallions. Scott wanted to make sure that I mentioned the s’mores we made last time when we toasted marshmallows in the flame, then plopped them on graham crackers and dark chocolate that we warmed on the grill. We didn’t do it this time though as we were trying to go light on sweets a week before Thanksgiving.

Which we’ve committed to hosting. So far our neighbor Dave/cat-whisperer is our only confirmed guest. Might as well, since we still do not have a working stove. I’m secretly devising Plan B by saving the advertisement from Buca di Beppo in case we need to outsource.

Onto our latest Appliance Update. An electrician is here as we speak and we should have a working microwave and dishwasher by today. Our stove still cannot be connected because little did we know that our fancy dual-fuel range requires a higher voltage of electricity than the normal outlet we have, and the gas burners require a separate hook up entirely. The good thing is, it is the South after all and we can always deep fry our turkey in the parking lot.

About the surprise antique purchase from my last post, Scott came back to find a giant mirror framed by an original copper window salvaged from the Flat Iron building in Manhattan.

We now have a little piece of New York in Charlotte.

Milestones in Weeks 3 & 4

At exactly three weeks almost to the hour, we hit an important milestone. Drum rolls please…

We found an Asian noodle shop!

We were looking for a place to eat along a main road filled with discount retailers, Checks Cashed, auto repair shops and divey Mexican taquerias when Scott spotted it – the Vietnam Grille – tucked between the Family Dollar Store and the Dollar Tree. You bat an eye and you’d be at Ross Dress for Less.

Their traditional beef noodle soup was as good as any in NYC. Next time I’ll try the grilled pork chop (that’s for you Nat.) From the proprietor we learned that there’s a new Asian market 20 minutes away called Grand Asia Market. I can’t wait to go stock up on noodles and hot sauces.

Which leads to the latest Appliance Update. Our shiny new stove is here but it won’t be hooked up for another couple of weeks when everything else gets in. But with a bit of imagination, we can pretty much make everything with an electric kettle and a counter top Panini grill (grilled veggies, pasta, salmon, polenta, hot dogs, leftover chicken…) that we are considering sending the stove back. Scott observed that we’ve cooked more in our three weeks in Charlotte than in our 2 ½ years in NY.

Even without everything installed, we feel more settled now that we (Scott) have cleared the floors from our piles of stuff, thanks to Scott’s brilliant idea. For $22 a month, we solved our storage problem with a climate controlled 5x5x8 storage unit. Thank goodness for cheap real estate in dodgy neighborhoods.

I was excited to start doing yoga again by taking a couple of classes at the Y. Unfortunately, one instructor could not distinguish between a “cobra” and an “up dog” and the other might as well be teaching boot camp. I’m hopeful though that I’ll eventually find someone I like. In the mean time, I’m enjoying the 1-mile walk to the Y and defying the car-centric culture in Charlotte while trying not to get killed crossing the street. I’ve been warned that fatal accidents happen frequently for pedestrians, who are quite the endangered species around here.

On my (safe) walk back on Friday night, I happened upon the gallery crawl that happens every first Friday. I stopped first at Boulevard, a new outpost of a cute boutique that features jewelry, clothing, organic diapers and other knickknacks from local artisans. I met the owners Car-rr-men – with a vigorous “r” – and Cindy, and Chuck, who owns Common Market which is a deli/liquor store/wine bar/outdoor DJ lounge. Across the street, I toured the Charlotte Art League, a big space with artist studios and exhibit walls for rent and that also offers classes. A couple of blocks away, I discovered a gallery that offers mosaic classes and another that exhibits artsy pottery. I was beginning to feel connected to the neighborhood.

This week the big event was the International Collectibles & Antiques Show at the Metrolina Expo. It was a gigantic bazaar with hundreds of vendors selling all things antique or just plain old. Scott and I held high hopes that we would find nice pieces of furniture – a desk, dresser, kitchen cabinet, book cases – to furnish our place. On the first day we went there, we spent 3 ½ hours and ended up with two mid-century ceramic containers that dentists used to sterilize their equipment. Yesterday, I returned and came back with a telephone from around 1900 to join the ranks of household appliances that are not working. I also came back with a special purchase that Scott won’t know about until he comes back from NY on Tuesday, so I can’t tell you about it here yet. All in all, we are zero out of four on practical purchases, and our hunt continues.

It’s Sunday morning and as I write this, I keep smelling a skunk. I wonder if it has anything to do with the black cat that stalks the parking lot or the hawk that circles above the lot. I’m ruling the possum out as it only comes out at night. I hope it's not in our ventilation. I think I’ll go investigate now.

Two and a Half Weeks

It’s been two and a half weeks.

We now have appliances. A stainless steel refrigerator that fills my glass with precisely 16oz of water with the gentle touch of a blue-lit panel. It is also Jewish. If Scott turns religious we can use the Sabbath mode and become observant at the touch of a button. We also have a “deluxe” top loading high efficiency washer with a glass lid. We spent a good part of Thursday night watching our clothes spin in it.

We won’t have a stove for another couple of weeks. When we need to cook, we grill out at the corner of our building’s parking lot where our neighbor Dave set up a table, an umbrella and a few lawn chairs under a tree. It’s a patch of dirt nestled between a row of shrubbery and the light rail tracks. On many a night you can find Dave, another neighbor Tony, Scott and I and a few neighborhood cats huddled around the grill sipping beers.

The cats are Dave’s. They are wild and hiss when you get close. But Dave feeds them and lets them in through a specially designed hole in the window when it gets cold outside. When he first found them he caught the females and took them to the vet to get them neutered so they wouldn’t get knocked up. But when I asked why he didn’t get Gato – the ailing, toothless male rumored to have fathered many – fixed, his said he saw a little of himself in Gato and thought he’d just let him be.

We can still grill out because thankfully the weather has been beautiful. On a day when we heard that the Northeast was being battered by snow and sleet, we were riding around on our bikes exploring the town and eating lunch on a rooftop patio.

About that lunch. I got an unexpectedly yummy Low Country Boil at Boardwalk Billy's which consisted of two pounds of potatoes, half a pound each of shrimp and sausage and a few corns on the cob. No, the South doesn’t skimp. I also realized in horror that I’m eating some kind of sausage every day.

Charlotte continues to both delight and dismay. This past Saturday, Wells Fargo sponsored a cultural day downtown – which they call “Uptown” – where the main strip was blocked off for a street fair and museums were free. I was giddy to learn that the Mint Museum was not an exhibit of historical U.S. coins but a swanky new museum that reminded me of the MoMA. The special exhibit on Romare Bearden reminded me of his exhibit in Brooklyn, except I didn’t have to line up for two hours this time. Outside the Mint Museum at the main stage, we listened to Branford Marsalis perform jazz tunes with local musicians.

I visited the Y where Scott and I are planning to join. They have a full basketball court, racquet ball courts, two swimming pools, a cycling room, three group exercise rooms and three floors of weights and cardio machines. It’ll cost us $85. TOGETHER. That’s half of what Scott paid in New York.

With all of those pleasant discoveries we also encountered things less pleasant. In the paper today, we read about the two candidates running for Mayor. Their bios listed age, birthplace, family, education,politics, most admired politician, and CHURCH. That pretty much squashes any chance of either of us becoming a mayor of Charlotte. An atheist and a Jewish ticket would never fly in this town.

The next two weeks will be monumental. Scott runs the New York Marathon, and we get our stove, microwave and dishwasher.

Until next time… y’all.

First Three Days in Charlotte

We made it to Charlotte!!!

After 15 hours of (Scott) driving in the rain on Wed, we made it to our new home around 2am. You can see a picture of our building here. Boy were we exhausted! For me it was rough having to doze much of the way in the cramped seat... ;)

It wasn't all work and no play though. We made a stop at the Lunay Caverns in Virginia. OMG it was amazing. The Car and Carriage Caravan Museum nearby was fun too.

I'm happy to find quite a few places within a few minutes' walk away: restaurants, wine bars, coffee shops, a nail salon, pubs. The selection is not quite like the East Village, but enough to satisfy this city girl. We did have trouble finding an Asian noodle shop one night as I was craving a big bowl of steaming noodle soup. But as consolation we found an equivalent of 16 Handles to get our froyo fix. We'll be back often I'm sure. I'm definitely keeping a lookout for Asiany places though.

To be sure, Charlotte is full of strip malls and chain restaurants. But there are enough cool independent places to discover. For one, this morning I walked over to the small farmer's market that is literally at the end of our parking lot. It was buzzing but not crowded by NYC standards, and everyone was so friendly. I was chatting with all the vendors who were super nice and neighborly. They have fresh veggies, baked good, meats, seafood, coffee, etc. We'll be there every week.

And for entertainment, we practically went camping at the Bass Pro Shop last night. For a grand total of $2.19, we played target shooting, viewed fish in the aquarium, lounged in camouflage lazy boy chairs which Scott threatened to buy, played with a few of their thousands of fishing poles and ate candy. We could've bought a pontoon boat for $12,665 but we thought we'd wait until we settle in a bit more.

Speaking of which, settling in is going to take a little while. It entails buying every appliance you can think of, changing the water heater, building out the closet, add another coat of paint besides unpacking. But every little milestone is cherished. Like our first sit down meal (leftover sandwich) at the table with real glasses (instead of water bottles) and plates. Hooking up speakers to the computer meant a little dancing in the kitchen in the midst of unpacking. It also means Scott busting out his guitar and figuring out how to strum a song just played on Pandora - right around the time the Texas football game is starting. I don't think I'll remind him.

So, things are moving along. For date night tonight, we'll be visiting Ikea, Crate and Barrel, and maybe even Williams Sonoma. Ooooh, can't wait. ;)