A little over a year ago, I realized I was growing up. I don’t think a specific moment sparked it. Hitting twenty-some-odd years-old with a solid job, student debt and complete financial independence should have done that years ago. But it was like all of a sudden I was looking at how I was spending my time more judiciously and had somehow acquired a better sense for the things that really, truly make me happy. I was over wasting precious free time at lackluster, cheesy bars and unenthused about shelling out for random shirts that were worn once before being shoved in an already overcrowded closet. Ad hoc Sephora shopping sprees left me with nothing but drawers full of unused lotions, potions and serums. And I found myself frustrated when my beloved evenings and weekends came and went with nothing to show but a handful of receipts for nothing exciting. No clue what did it, but I realized the things most worth it for me most often involve a good meal and fun people.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love a beautiful bag, peruse fun baubles and covet sky-high heels as much as the next girl. I love going out for random nights with the girls and will throw down my hard-earned cash for a pair of perfect fitting jeans, a dress I can accessorize up or down and shoes that have that special something. I’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t love shopping, and my friends and family would laugh in my face if I tried. But, I’ve found I have more fun breaking in any given purchase over a fun, memorable outing than I do taking hold of a pretty shopping bag. (Don’t we all want somewhere fabulous to flaunt a fun new buy?) I don’t mind and actually like opening my wallet for experiences that leave me feeling full and content in more ways than one. Tastes and conversation so good that I know I will and need to remember them. Occasions where I've giggled over potluck dishes with some of my nearest and dearest (many of whom just happen to know their way around a kitchen). Times when I've tried new things like crickets at local haunts in Puerto Vallarta (yep, they’re crunchy). Four hour, multicourse Gypsy dinners with complete but interesting strangers. And trips where I've laughed off incredibly lengthy waits like the one at Vij’s in B.C. because the curry and conversation were just that good.
Those are the kinds of things that made me want to start this itty bitty blog. I wanted a place to log and recount all of the tastes, dishes and details that made them so memorable. A spot to spread the word about the spaces, places and things worth trying. So here we are. Cheers.