A Blithe PALATE

Words fail me.

This was sent to me by a friend today: http://tinyurl.com/4mgw5q

Apparently PETA is asking Ben and Jerry's to consider swapping out cow's milk for human breast milk in making their ice cream.

You can and you can't go home again.

In the eight week state of bliss back "home" in the metro DC area, I didn't bother to post for a variety of reasons, not least of which was because I was too busy enjoying the moment, eating at favorite and newly discovered restaurants, shopping at farmers markets, cruising down my favorite roads with Pug in tow, and generally enjoying the thrill of being back in town in which I had grown up.

Nearly a month into being back in this part of the world, I've struggled with the real letdown of being back, having no access to the sights and smells and sounds to which I had become so accustomed.

On the day we departed Arlington, I sobbed.  Hubby tried to console me by promising that we'd come back soon.  All I could think of to express my very real pain was to blurt, "I don't want to eat at Carrabas."  [one of the many chain restaurants that passes for culinaria here]

Our trip back took two days, with a brief stopover to visit family friends whose lovely Roanoke home cheered me immensely with its wildly beautiful and imaginative touches (including an 18 foot tipi, a trebuchet and a giant slingshot -- very popular with Hubby and with Pug; a romantic wooden pergola that stretched the length of their patio; and five acres of quiet serenity).  Our hosts, Ron and Renee, made a brilliant dinner of sea bass with caramelized onions and roasted potatoes, accompanied by steamed asparagus and chased with a lemon meringue pie.  Simple, flavorful fare...

The next day found us on the road for the final leg of our trip.

The sign said:  "WELCOME TO GEORGIA."

I burst into tears.

Some places are home.  Other places are a way station.