A Rich New Year

One could easily qualify the success of their New Year's Eve based on obvious things: an evening at a swanky hotel, a list of visited restaurants from here to tomorrow, a soiree that'd have the most socially-elite green with envy and a fireworks show that'd rival that of any global city. On the surface, that sounds like one fantastic New Year's Eve celebration, right? Indeed - the choices I made for this night on the town were perfect. But what really made it exceptional were the connections. Not the schmoozy/business type connections, but those with real meaning.

Of course the best part of the night was spending time with my hubby, Mike. I appreciate how happy he is just following me around as we trot from restaurant to restaurant and place to place. He noticed it too:

The warm welcome from sushi chef Hayeong as we sidled up to his sushi bar at the W Hotel's Trace Restaurant. Hayeong immediately remembered me from his sushi-making class, and had a real interest in knowing how (and if) I was able to use my skills at home.

The friendly banter with Chef Kevin at Blueacre Seafood as we poked a little fun back and forth about my comments earlier in the month about his old sous chef Anthony (at Steelhead Diner) and how I'd thrown down the gauntlet by saying that Anthony's Potatoes Minneapolis would give Kevin's a run for the money.

The warm hug I received when we bumped into Travis Rosenthal and the pride he had in showing off his new rum bar Rumba. He absolutely beamed when sharing the details that'll make his foray into rum successful.

The secret smile of satisfaction I hold for Herschell Taghap and his ability to 'make it happen' when I came whining to him a day before New Year's about how I couldn't get a reservation at Cuoco until after 9:30pm  - and his ability to magically find me a spot at six o'clock!.

The the friendly welcome and ear-to-ear grin of my cohort-in-menu-searching, Ryan, as he flung the door open for us as we arrived for gala at Chihuly Garden and Glass.

But my favorite part of the night? Meeting my friend Evonne downtown and having her join us for beignets and drinks at RN 74. Evonne is one of those special people who you know from the minute you meet them that you'll always be friends. She's one of those folks that "gets me" (and I think I "get her", too). Her brain seems to go the same place mine does - whether it's snapping ridiculous photos in hotel room entryways or standing in awe of a view on the San Juan Islands. She's one of the good guys and she knows the power of a connection.

This year I plan to nurture these connections more. To develop them and appreciate the positive things that I bring to them (and them to me). These connections are what can make (or break) a day. Big connections or small. An afternoon walk with a friend, or a kind smile for a stranger. I'll connect.

Oh, Rain - Where Art Thou?

I could nearly kick myself as I utter the words: "Why is it still so warm?" I never thought as a webbed-between-the-toes Northwesterner that I'd ever long for cooler days and endless drizzle. But here I am. It's early October and it feels like July! Sure, a few leaves are dropping from the birch in my backyard, but we're nearing a record in Seattle: 76 days of the driest days on record. Yup! Our soggy, bring-your-umbrella city is gasping for rain!

My boots sit, unworn, by the front door - envious that my Keen sandals have seen more foot-time this Fall than they may see before Thanksgiving. My raincoat still mothballed from early Spring. I have to wonder what this city could become if this were to become the norm.

Swimming in October? My daughter's still flopping about in Lake Washington on a regular basis, while pumpkins are on sale at Whole Foods. The dogs still willingly frolic into the yard in the morning; stark contrast to the wimpy pups they become when rain appears and they hug the side of the house looking for dry spots for leg-lifting.

I'm becoming spoiled. As I walk to my bus each morning, rather than bemoaning Fall's drizzle and accepting the inevitable doom that follows in November, I relish each morning the brilliance of sunrises, the stamina of neighboring gardens and my ability to leave for work without a jacket. (Gasp!)

And oh, the sunsets! Something about crisper evenings and late day clouds make for some of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen. It must have to do with the angle of the sun, or planetary alignment or something, but I swear the sunsets we've seen this year have set the bar at a whole new level.

But deep down inside I'm keeping a secret: A wish for Fall rains and dark skies. Yes, I've loved this never-ending summer, but I realize the change in the seasons is an expectation of mine sure as the sun falls each night. Without the rain my lawn slowly browns (it just doesn't seem right to pull out a sprinkler and water in October). The streets look bare without their usual rain-soaked sheen. And I'm missing the smell of wet-dog after our morning walks.

As another sun rises to another blue-skied day, I think I'll go sit out on the patio with a cup of coffee in hand and ponder it a little longer. Without a jacket.

Oyster Love

As  Space Needle and salmon are the posterchildren for Seattle, the same is true for oysters ... and I love 'em! Again and again I'm asked my opinion - not only on the best restaurants to get these sweet, briney treats-of-the-sea, but which varieties scintillate my tastebuds most. From my discussions of all-things-oyster with those in the know, I'm finding that love for a specific oyster type varies as much as flavors of ice cream. With four distinctive types in the NW (Olympia, Pacific, European Flat and Kumamoto), there's truly something for everything in Washington's oyster world! My understanding is that the tiny, yet plump, Olympia is the only native variety to the area - perhaps adding to my love-addiction.

My first introduction to the oyster world came early on with the cracker-crusted, baked, out-of-a-jar type my mom was infamous for preparing. While not favorites as I reflect back, they certainly warmed my palate for the future. A trip in my early 20's to Florida reminds me never to eat an oyster on the east coast.

If you're looking for a 'gateway oyster', Olympia is your bivalve of choice. Their sweet, palatable flavors (with a distinguishable cucumber aftertaste) is a perfect way to begin. Not too briney, and relatively mild, most anyone trying an Olympia will have a second (and a third).

Let's get down to the nitty (but not gritty) of this. Where do I recommend you satisfy your oyster cravings? Elliott's Oysterhouse on Pier 55 has a reputation for excellence and absolutely stand behind it. Their shuckers are virtually an encyclopedia of knowledge when it comes to the little guys. The Brooklyn Steak, Seafood and Oysterhouse is another beautiful example of the plethora of options in the northwest (with accompanying vodka samplers to boot!). Blueacre, Harborside and Aqua by El Gaucho all have a stunning number of just-out-of-the-bay selections that'll knock your socks off. But the crowning jewel for me? The flash-fried Totten Inlet Pacific oysters available at Steelhead Diner in the Pike Place Market. Can't find me at lunch time? Look no further than the chef's counter at Steelhead Diner watching on as chef Anthony prepares crispy, golden orbs of oystery-goodness nestled on a bed of bloody mary sauce. Wow! A surprising second-choice for the crisp-fried type? Just as the name suggests, Emmett Watson's Oyster Bar, tucked in the bowels of the Pike Place Market marries 'homey feel' and ''delicious oysters' perfectly.

My advice? Don't be afraid. Like ice cream flavors, they all beg for a taste. Try 'em and let me know -- what's your favorite?

A Morning in the Market

Visiting Pike Place Market certainly isn't new to me. I work less than a 10-minute walk away, and my bus departs for home just 2 blocks up Pike from it - but the Market takes on a unique feel early in the morning on Sundays. It's this time of the day when the Market feels most unique and real to me. Not that it isn't the rest of the time, but as vendors are opening-up shop and stacking their wares is when they're most approachable to me. They'll chat more (albiet while they're unpacking), and you can really learn something from them when they haven't been sapped by their 1,000th question about the first Starbucks or the location of the bathrooms. I guess what I'm trying to say is that they're most personable at this hour. They ask more questions ("What's all the fish for?" "Inviting others to enjoy that, too?" "Live closeby?") and seem more sincere in wanting answers. Later in the day, their questions sound more contrived - although maybe it's just the way I perceive it as I've been taxed by questions, too, by day's end.

I love meandering through the maze of vehicles to my favorite fish shop in search of mussels or clams or smoked fish-bellies. I love the warmth my loaf of bread still holds - hearkening back to still being in their 'rising' stage when my eyes were still blisfully closed and my head on pillow. I love the freshness of the air - not yet tinged with spilled lattes and sun-warmed fish entrails. Even the wafting scents from Daily Dozen seem to linger as they dance to my nose to the music provided by buskers.

Every weekend should involve an early morning spent talking to vendors ... selecting fruit perfection ... gathering blossoms so bright they make you squint, and eyeing vendors with fresh smiles and witty banter. Is it too late to make a New Year's Resolution in August?