Tooth Fairy

My baby teeth were perfect.

Straight, perfect enamel soldiers in order, in alignment, at attention.

Then I was told the story about the tooth fairy.  

Wait, my teeth are going to fall out?  And I get money for them?  And new grown up teeth grow in?

OK, if you say so.

Finding money under my pillow and not having to do anything for it?  Fine by me.

But then one by one my teeth started growing in and they weren’t perfect at all.  They weren’t at attention soldiers.  They were lazy and crooked and didn’t care about giving me a beautiful smile at all.  In fact, one of my front teeth didn’t even show up.  I was born without it.

All of a sudden there I was at ten with a mouth full of permanent teeth that were an utter disappointment.  Braces were a given.

Finally at fourteen, the day came and an orthodontist slapped the metal on my teeth.  I couldn’t decide what was worse.  Looking at my permanent teeth or seeing them with three pounds of metal.

I could barely close my mouth.  I had rubber bands for tension, wax on top of the metal so that it wouldn’t cut the inside of mouth, and at one time a fashionable headpiece to wear at night.  I felt hideous and uncomfortable and I thought it would never end.

I had to go once a month for a checkup and tightening.  I felt like my dad’s VW bug going into the shop.  I’d sit in the chair, they’d pump me up so they could reach my mouth and grab all of these tools to tune me up.

I couldn’t eat for days after an ortho appointment.  Then I’d have to eat jello and pudding and go through tubes of chapstick for the chapped corners of my mouth.

After a few years of this, the Big Day came.  Time to take off the braces!  Good news:  biggest relief of my short life.  Bad news:  at my next dental check up, the dentist said, “Why did they take off your braces?  Your bottom teeth are all pushed forward.  That’s not right.  He’s not done yet.”

Excuse me?  The next thing I knew I was visiting different dentists and orthodontists and finding out that my orthodontist screwed up my teeth.  I found out that my bottom front teeth needed to be fixed.  That my bottom gum was stretched and couldn’t be left like that.

I was told that my orthodontist messed up my mouth and my mouth needed to be fixed.

I sat there in his office with my mom by my side as we told him we were appalled and heartbroken and needed to discuss a remedy.  We negotiated:   the amount of money we spent; the amount of money we were going to now spend to fix it; and my teenage emotional turmoil.

We came to an agreement and he picked up a pen and wrote a check.  I think he gave us almost twenty thousand dollars.  Years later, I realized that was not nearly enough.

All that time and discomfort and my teeth still weren’t perfect.

The summer after high school graduation, I spent more time in the dentist’s chair.  Periodontist consultations.  New orthodontist consultations.  New plans.

I had to have surgery to remove gum tissue from the roof of my mouth and grafted onto the gum in front of my bottom teeth.

So I had packing on the roof of my mouth and new gum tissue that had to heal at the bottom gum.  Nothing but liquid again.  And jello.

The first night home after the periodontist Mom let me sleep on the couch.  Camped out, falling asleep finally to some TV and pain pills.

When I woke up the next morning, I turned my head and saw my pillow soaked in blood.  I jumped up, shrieked, and ran to the bathroom where I saw dried blood all over my face and neck.  Mom found me and calmed me down, this was normal apparently.  I cleaned myself up, Mom set up new sheets and pillows on the couch.

Two weeks later, I was ready to eat some real food.  Mashed potatoes!  I was giddy.  Mom made some, set the plate in front of me, and said, OK, now you can eat this but go slow.  Be careful.

As soon as she turned around, I picked up my fork and dug in.  I was starving and I attacked those mashed potatoes with gusto.  Warm and creamy and tasty and salty.  And then I realized I’d swallowed something other than mashed potatoes.

The packing that was left at the roof of my mouth slid down my throat right with those mashed potatoes.  Let the healing begin!

After the gum tissue healed completely, it was time for me to visit an oral surgeon.  I was born without a tooth, my left incisor  The new plan was to remove the matching one on the right side and the two corresponding bottom teeth.  Then the orthodontist would close the gaps.

More time in the chair.  More healing.  More jello.

Time to slap on the metal.  Again.  By this time, I was heading to college.  Just what a young woman wants.  Going away to college and having braces on for the second time.  Packing for my first time away from home and I still had to pack rubber bands, and wax, and headgear.

This time, the orthodontist knew what he was doing.  My teeth were pushed together, straightened properly, the bottom teeth went back to their proper place.  No gum issues.

The braces came off.  And before my college graduation.  Win, win.

It was a bit anticlimactic though.  All that work and my teeth were…fine.  They were straight.  But they still weren’t great teeth.  All the years of pushing and pulling and metal led to pretty dull teeth.  Because the incisors were removed, the canines were next to my front teeth.  Yeah, my teeth were officially done with orthodontics, but there wasn’t a ticker tape parade or anything.  There was a huge sigh of relief.  Probably a huge sigh of relief from my parents and their bank account. But the result wasn’t perfect.  A beautiful smile?  A decent smile.

I took a break from dentists except for the six month cleanings.  

A couple years later, I learned that veneers were a possibility.  I started to look into it and I decided that my teeth and I deserved more.  I lucked out because insurance paid for half of the tab back then.  Because of all of the mishaps and screwups and the fact that the veneer decision wasn’t just a cosmetic one, insurance paid for half.  My saving grace.  Plus, my mom helped me to pay for it.

So I thought I was crazy purposely putting myself back in that chair, but I did it.  Impressions and x-rays and choosing shapes and shades and then.  Six proper top teeth.

Cue fireworks and parade.

I finally had the smile I wanted since that damn tooth fairy started visiting.  I was almost thirty years old.

Fast forward to Christmas 2021.

The veneers have aged like I have.  Sigh.

Over the years, my bite has changed.  Stress has turned me into a clencher.  At one point, they made me a retainer so that my teeth wouldn’t move any more than they already had.

Around 2019 I knew that the day was coming near to replace the veneers.  They had a good run.  Almost twenty years old.

I started to think about thinking about replacing them some time later in 2022.

Then a week before Christmas I made myself lunch and sat down with an episode of Murder, She Wrote.  All of a sudden, I was crunching extra hard on something, thinking, well, that’s not right.  That was an odd crunchy crouton.

Looked in the mirror and saw my old tooth staring back at me, veneer less.  That left incisor veneer let loose and I’d eaten it for lunch.

Before I started hyperventilating, I called the dentist.  They got me in two days later.

Seeing that old tooth did me in.  All of the memories came back.  That tooth that I hadn’t seen in years…so small.  So haggard.  Not the right shape for its place in my mouth.  It brought tears to my eyes.

G took me to the dentist.  The dentist and I had talked earlier this year about the impending veneer replacement so this wasn’t a total surprise visit.

He had a cancellation that afternoon and said, If I was ready and wanted to go, he’d start the process that very day.

My eyes got wide, matching my mouth, with lip retractors in place.

The emotions sitting in that chair!  Gratitude tears filling my eyes.  Now?  I can start this right now?  Anxiety rattling my bones.  Now?  I can start this right now?

Let’s do it.

Before G left me there, he asked me what I wanted to eat after the appointment.  “Anything but jello.”

The next thing I knew, they’d given me a little pillow behind my head, a little blanket for my legs.  They turned on the massage function on the chair.  They asked me what music I’d like to hear while the dentist worked on removing the old veneers.  

Not only did the dentist have time for me that day, but the lab guy (my new BFF) was in as well and immediately made the temporary teeth.

Five hours later, G came back to find me with a temporary set of beautiful teeth. He also showed up with a mango smoothie.  Perfection.

Just after the new year, I got the new veneers.

The nerves started settling in the day before.  Anxiety about sitting in that chair for hours again.  But I was excited.  The day was circled and in big letters on my calendar.

The dentist and I opted to do eight upper teeth instead of six to fill out my smile.  It was the right decision.  

The upshot is these veneers are better than my original ones.  My old veneers did their job.  They served me well and lasted a good long time.  But they lacked…personality.  They were like six white chiclets in a row.  The shape and spacing of these new teeth is so much better.  The front teeth are front teeth.  The incisors are incisors.  I’ve never had canines before.  I’m in love with my canines.  Technology and materials are better now.  This dentist and his lab are thoughtful magicians.

This is the best my smile has looked since that tooth fairy flew away with my perfect baby teeth.

Anger Management

I've been so upset this week.  By headlines.  By the virus.  By people who do not do the right thing.

Tonight I had it and lost my temper.  Raged against the machine. 

Instead of moping about it and stewing about being so angry, I grabbed my apron and went to the kitchen.

I looked in the fridge and decided to make cottage pie topped with colcannon.

I took rage and turned it into dinner.  I think that's a step in the right direction.

Happy New Year!

The Christmas season is over which means the I'm-going-to-eat-all-the-cheese-and-all-the-cookies-and-drink-all-the-holiday-cocktails season is also over.

Moment of silence, please.

To reset, G and I are going to do the Whole30 program.  Thirty days of meats, seafood, eggs, vegetables, fruit, and natural fats.  (You see what I did there?  I listed the foods we CAN eat, as opposed to the list of all of the fun foods we CANNOT eat.  Me = trying to embrace the positive.)

G and I have tried the Whole30 program a few times.  Usually I don't get through the whole month.  He does and loses up to twenty pounds.  That's not annoying at all.

This time I want to commit.  I want to commit to a lot of things this year, so this will be my first challenge.

If you have any recipe or meal ideas, please share in the comments or email me!

First up for us, various salad and burrito bowls with roasted chicken or pork, sweet potato hash for breakfast, and tea instead of coffee.

Sigh.

Gratitude moment:  making gougères for New Year's Eve 2019.  Farewell for now, cheesy puffs.

The Move

We just moved to Naples, FL from San Francisco, CA.  Culture shock, to say the least.

I thought I'd put some words to this move and explain our decision.  This blog does have the word diary in its title after all.

My G introduced his idea to move to FL Thanksgiving of 2014.  He had a list of good reasons because he is my G.  Logical, well-thought, strategic.

I wasn't ready to listen though because first I was heartbroken about leaving SF.  I was heartbroken through Christmas and sunny, beautiful January and February.  My heartbreak let up a bit by March because it was my birthday month.  But I wasn't able to actually discuss this idea with G until April.  And I wasn't able to discuss it with my dear ones until June.  I just didn't want to say it out loud because it really would be a plan.  It would be real.

SF and I were like peas and carrots.  Organic, farm raised peas and carrots.  I had always wanted to try being a city girl and I took to it right away.  I loved living in a high rise with a 24-hour concierge desk.  I loved not having a car and walking everywhere.  I loved being by the bay.  I loved the weather...hardly reaching 70 most of the time.  Jeans, a blouse, a cardigan and good walking shoes being my daily wardrobe.  I loved volunteering at the farm market on Saturdays at the world famous Ferry Building.  I loved having Napa and Sonoma practically in my backyard.  I loved discovering that SF was a coffee city and I was highly caffeinated throughout my stay.  Needless to say, I loved the food scene in SF.  Three words:  to die for.

I loved walking into a yarn store my first month in the city and ultimately finding some lifelong friends.  Clementine, Rachel, and Emily, you rule and I love you.

The headline news was that I finally found some help and guidance for my anxiety and depression issues that weren't diagnosed until I was in my late 30's.  My time in SF was all about me learning how to cope, learning how to forgive, learning how to mourn, learning how to breathe.  Learning how to be myself again, but a newer, and hopefully better, version.

So back to G's proposed plan for moving to FL.  I'm going to use bullet points because that's what he would do.

• Mom's health and parents that routinely spend time in FL
• Cost of living
• Travel
• Relaxing environment

My mom's health took a nose dive the summer of 2014.  The poor thing has had a few surgeries and procedures, major fixes, minor setbacks, you name it.  Through it all, she has been a champ.  She and my stepdad have been wintering in FL for years now.  Spending time together here in FL will be much easier than being all the way on the West Coast.  G has family here in FL and his parents have all started to spend time down here on the Gulf Coast as well.

Our SF lease was up this month.  The leasing company wanted to raise our rent 23%.  That's when G's plan went into high gear.  He had had enough.  We lived in an 875 sq. ft. one bedroom apartment.  We had no cars.  And SF still priced us out.

Living in SF was a dream come true.  But we have more dreams.  Moving here to FL allows us to save money and travel again.  Our tenth anniversary is around the corner and France might be a doable option with more money in the bank and flights across the pond instead of across the US and then the pond.

Finally, G found out he is not a city guy.  The food scene, the coffee scene, the wine scene, yes.  The noise, the pollution, the crowds, the public transportation...not his bag.  Whenever G came to visit family in FL, he loved it here.  He loved the pace, the vacation vibe, the beach and water nearby.  The quiet.  He loved the simplicity of being here.

So here we are.  In Florida.  With room for guests, a screened-in lanai, and air conditioning.

G has taken to this like I took to SF.  Now it's my turn to try and get used to this new reality.

For Dad

Four years ago today, I lost my Dad.  Shortly after that, I started culinary school and I can't help but think that he would have loved hearing about my adventures there.  No doubt he would've loved tasting my kitchen experiments.

As a culinary student, I traveled to Italy and France and my Dad would have been beyond thrilled for me.  I always wanted to have a passport and be a world traveler and he shared that dream with me.  Who knew that food would be my ticket to the life I always wanted for myself?

One of the things that Dad and I always did together was eat.  Back when I still lived in Cleveland, he would drive to my apartment on Sundays and we'd go to a favorite restaurant or a new place we wanted to try, have lunch, and then go to the movies.  When I moved away, he would visit and we'd still incorporate movies and eats into our time together.  That was our thing.

In honor of my dad, I'd like to dedicate this meal to him.  If he were still here with me, I'd make this meal for him and afterwards we'd probably go to see Source Code.

First of all, I'd fire up the grill, a must.  I'd place a basket of homemade tortilla chips on the table accompanied by fresh salsa from my foodie friend Mary's garden.  One of our rules?  Always have some food to eat while you're waiting to eat your meal.

I'd grill some poblano peppers along with some jalapeno and serrano for some heat.  Then I'd process them up with onions and oregano, garlic, some water, salt and pepper.  I'd melt some provolone on top of the burgers and then smother them with the green chile sauce. 

Oh, and I couldn't forget the bun.  Dad loved great bread.  I would run to Zingerman's Bakehouse and pick up a kaiser bun or just a superbly made old school sesame seed bun.  Toast them on the grill, of course, before assembly.

Alongside the burgers, I'd grill some corn on the cob and serve the cobs with softened butter seasoned with salt, pepper, and chopped cilantro.

Finally, we'd have thick-cut sweet potato fries, sliced up in my kitchen, deep fried, and tossed with salt and a pinch of chili powder.

Chilled Coronas with lime in hand, The Mavericks blasting from the speakers, we'd happily stuff ourselves.

Ciabatta Rolls

I was going to post my adventure in the kitchen while making ciabatta rolls.  Photos, tips, the whole shebang.  But guess what?  It was a failed experiment.

The dough didn't rise properly and it was still a sticky, elastic mess after a few hours of sitting in a warm place.  I should have taken a photo to show you, but I just sighed and walked away from the blob of dough.  I'd used my Kitchen Aid with the dough hook attachment for the first time.  Did I not keep the dough in there long enough?  Was the warm place not warm enough? So back to the ol' drawing board.

I still posted this attempt because I think it is important to talk about the experiments that did not work as well as the ones that did.  The kitchen is like a little lab.  Sometimes you use your tools and formulas and ingredients and you make something delicious.  Other times, maybe all that happens is a poof of smoke (though not literally, let's hope!)  The rule in our house has always been, "If this doesn't work out, we order pizza."

By the way, this is what a successful ciabatta roll looks like (courtesy of 'wichcraft, NY):

Cannes

I found out that I've been accepted to the Culinary Program at the Cannes Film Festival in May.  I don't know if I can find the words to describe how I feel about this.

I'll be one of twenty people who will work the hospitality tent at the film festival from May 13-25. We'll be making breakfast and lunch everyday as well as working cocktail hours and various receptions.  I'll be living in a dorm-style apartment setting about two miles from the festival site.  Before the festival begins, there will be field trips to restaurants and wineries and farmers' markets.  Once the festival begins, I'll be fully accredited so when I'm not working, I'll be able to see the films.

This is, no kidding, a dream come true.  I'm about to cry as I write this post.

Happy New Year!

Guess what one of my resolutions is?  You're right!  Blogging regularly.  Let's see how I do.

First restaurant meal this year?  Zingerman's Roadhouse.  G & I caught an Oprah show during vacation.  O's best friend Gayle traveled the country in search of the best sandwiches, two of which are here in Michigan.  Zingerman's barbecued brisket and a grilled cheese sandwich from a place in Royal Oak (near Detroit).

Since I was sick for New Year's Eve (^W$(*@%*^#^!@), G took me out on Saturday and we enjoyed the brisket and a patty melt with Swiss cheese and wild mushrooms.  Not exactly the healthiest meal, but pure heaven.  We'll try to eat chicken and vegetables the rest of the week to make up for it.

Tonight's the OH State/Texas Bowl game.  

Menu:  Chicken Green Chili from Tyler Florence

Homemade cornbread

Fall Classes

I registered for fall classes which start September 9th. Fall semester includes: Charcuterie When I've told friends that my first class is charcuterie, I've gotten funny looks. "What the heck is charcuterie?" Usually, they're sorry they asked. Straight from the school's course description: Students in this course will acquire professional skills in variations of hors d’oeuvres and savories, seasonings, condiments, stuffed meats, curing, pickling, smoking of meat, fish, and poultry. Proficiencies in sausage-making, garde manger, pates, terrines, galantines and stuffed meats are also taught. Restaurant Cooking & Prep Some of my readers will remember that I took a dining service class last year. I had to wait on tables in the school restaurant at lunchtime. This fall, I'll be prepping all of the food that will be served at lunch. Students will participate in four workstations: Roast—Grill, Sauté, Entremetier (middle station) and Garde Manger—Pantry. Students will learn classical and modern cooking techniques and recipe development and the importance of consistency and clean work methods. International and American Cuisine This is the big one. Eight hours in the kitchen four days a week prepping AND cooking dinner for the school's restaurant. Students will learn the culture, history, and terminology of various regional American and international cuisines, while also studying their traditional and contemporary cooking techniques. Students will prepare multi-course dinners, small plate offerings, wine pairing dinners, as well as buffets that are offered to the public, served in the American Harvest Restaurant.