Love Letters {to Nola food}

Happyyyyyy Fat Tuesday!

Unfortunately, Texas is somewhat lacking in the king cake and cajun food department, so we won't be able to celebrate this lovely holiday in true form.

We did, however, enjoy a semi-authentic Mardi Gras parade in the Mckinney Square on Sunday.

I was quite impressed with the brass band leading the parade, and the dogs were rather excited about the excessive bones and beads that were thrown (and they didn't even have to flash anyone!) 

Over the last few months, we've made quite a few trips to New Orleans to visit friends anddddd stuff our faces with the magic that is Nola food.

Of course, we also managed to squeeze in just a few alcoholic beverages here and there.

Because Texas has so graciously provided us with crawfish that is $12 per pound and jambalaya that I'm fairly certain had ketchup in it, we've had to learn the hard way that Louisiana food can not be duplicated.

In honor of the final day of Mardi Gras and this beautiful day of gluttony, I wanted to write a collective love note to the best food on the planet:

The food of New Orleans.

Thanks for making every other food in the world feel inadequate and stupid and worthless.

(No offense, Chickfila)

Here are some of our most recent favorite dishes and cocktails of New Orleans:

Elizabeth's praline bacon.

Would it be too bold to say that you may just be the best thing I have ever put in my mouth?

Beignets.

Starting off #datpiperwedding with these fluffy pillows of heaven was quite magical.

. . . but Elizabeth's.

I'm still not over that place.

Sweet potato and duck hash on top of a cornbread waffle with pepper jelly

Liz's bridesmaid luncheon at the greatest happy hour spot in all of New Orleans, The Columns.

Sometimes, I still have dreams about this shrimp pastry.

This Satsumosa (satsuma mimosa, duh) at Dante's Kitchen.

I think this drink just kicked the cutie-mosa off of it's throne in my mimosa hierarchy. 

All things King Cake.

We tried Sucre's king cake, their king cake macaron, anddd their king cake tart (filled with cinnamon cheesecake, bread pudding, and chantilly cream and topped with a sweet baby Jesus)

All of which were exceptional, in case you were wondering or thought otherwise.

Brunch at Katie's.

This crawfish beignet.

The cheese!

Oh, the cheese.

Although I didn't order this for my meal, I snagged a bite or ten from Elizabeth's.

I truly think about it weekly.

 Cowbell's cocktails were really great BUT THEIR MAC AND CHEESE.

It's not pictured because we literally inhaled it as soon as we set eyes on it.

Literally, literally, literally.

In other excellent New Orleans mac and cheese news, we also fell in love with the mac of Rue 127.

Thanks to some badass family style skills, we nearly tried everything on the menu.

Thank goodness.

At the time,  their cocktail menu consisted of drinks appropriately named after Presidents.

The 

 I'm mildly ashamed to even include this on the list, but it's kind of understood if you have ever survived past midnight in New Orleans.

F&M's cheese fries.

That one late night "drunchie" that everyone craves, but you are pretty certain would taste like garbage if you at it sober.

Side note: Ellie, my sister who is a junior at Tulane in New Orleans, taught me the word drunchie.

Definition: drunk munchie

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, use this word in my every day vocabulary.

These three and their abilities to not order the same thing, share, and try everything are the cure to the awful, sickening disease of menu anxiety.

Thank heavens for them.

FYI: 99% of the restaurants/bars on this list (with the exception of F&M's) were recommended by our local tour guides and our best friends, Elizabeth and Jason Piper.

Follow them on Instagram @nolapartyof2 and @mrsnolapartyof2 

Now I'm missing Louisiana terribly and starving.

I guess I'll just go drown my sorrows in a few hundred bags of Zapps.

Love Letters {to food}

Dear Torchy's Tacos,

Your October taco of the month, with fried chicken coated in a pumpkin seed breading, converted me from a pumpkin hater to a pumpkin kindaaaa hater.

Dear some of our favorite Dallas restaurants (like Cane Rosso, Smoke, and Liberty Burger)

Thanks for moving north to the 'burbs.

Your assistance in helping us avoid highway 75 makes me want to smooch your face.

Dear awkward local instagrammer meet-up at Sissy's,

The never ending buckets of chicken smothered the weirdness like gravy on Sissy's glorious mashed potatoes.

Dear Sprinkles,

Thanks for allowing mere mortals to make your salted oatmeal cornflake cookies in the comfort of our own home.

But to only include dough for six cookies in each tub?

Someone should be fired.

Dear Trader Joe's,

You never ever ever cease to amaze me and my taste buds.

Dear Smoke,

I'm so thankful you and your heavy handed blueberry ricotta pancakes topped with poached vanilla apricots will be only one suburb away from us now.

Dear Trader Joe's,

Again.

Stop it.

Please.

My cavities.

Dear Texas State Fair,

Although we missed out on the funnel cake beer, your Texas bluebonnet made up for our loss.

A blueberry muffin stuffed with cream cheese, blueberries, and white chocolate chips sent straight from the heavens.

Dear Velvet Taco, 

Much like my addiction to oversized sweaters, I can't quit you.

Dear Josh,

I don't like the way you look at my pie (my key lime pie from Smoke, of course)

Dear Smoke,

Have I told you lately how absolutely thrilled I am about you moving 30 minutes closer to us?

This pulled pork eggs benedict though.

Jeeeeesus.

. . . and goat cheese potato cakes on the side.

Hallelujah.

Dear King Cake season,

Fall is great and girl scout cookie season is fun, but let's be honest, king cake season is the only season of the year that really matters.

Love Letters {Summer Edition}

Dear Summer 2014,

You were one for the books.

You were filled with not too toasty temps, good food, and great people.

Thanks for being so kind to us.

Dear wrangler jorts,

You are probably the most American thing I own.

Dear Hugs,

I'm glad that we can call you friends AND that we will soon be neighbors.

#neverforget

#alwaysremember

#whatever

Dear Fourth of July,

You were F.U.N.

Dear Easy Slider,

Thanks for sneakin' up to the 'burbs for the day.
How about you magically appear right across the street from our apartment more often?

Dear anyone looking to buy radishes from Kroger,

You may want to avoid these because they were once used as "Beets by Dre".

Dear Peticolas beer,

Beware of your SwimFan.

Dear Josh's lame excuses for "working late",

After seeing the putting green and beer garden at his office you are no longer a valid excuse.

Dear first inaugural supper club,

Mmmmm.
Counting down the days until round two.
. . . in our brand spankin' new real life, full size kitchen.

Dear coming home from work to a clean apartment and records spinning,
You remind me weekly that I married a good'n.

Dear Nantahala River,
You are running a close race with The Gorge for being the happiest place in America.

Dear three best friends that anyone could have,
Insert smoochy face emoticon here.
Our monthly reunions keep me functioning.

Dear fear of boldness,
Sayonara.
I have friends who make me dress nice, fix my hair, and wear red lipstick.

Dear orthopedic surgery sales reps who think they are just tooooooo cool,
You are pretty cool I guess, but I'm glad I get to boss you around in the OR.

Dear Liz,
 I'm glad you are getting married and that we can celebrate that marriage with tea parties.
. . . channeling our inner Samantha.
 (Samantha, the American Girl doll, for those of you who didn't have the privilege of being a 90's child)

Dear Canton trade days,
Who would have thought that a little 'ole flea market could involve SO MUCH blood, sweat, and tears.
. . . but mainly sweat.

Dear Canton purchases,
You have given me more future-home-decoration-anxiety than I ever thought possible.
. . . but that bar cart

Dear Mckinney,
We're coming for ya in T-minus 12 days.

Dear GingerMan Bingo,
You are probably the main thing we will miss about living at The Shops.

Dear most magical candle of all time,
Hey.

Dear Jenna and Abby,

Hard to believe that one of you is about to become a wife and one of you just became a mom.

Enjoying college, sorority life, and grad school with you two made for some of my favorite memories of all time.

Dear fall,
Quit trying to get all up in summer's biznass.
Relax.
Your turn is coming soon.

Love Letters {#FoodPorn Edition}

A lot has happened in my mouth since I lasted updated this thing we call a blawg.

Aside from the fact that I've had thirteen cavities filled, I've also been stuffing my face with some pretty great things.

I'm just going to write one all-encompassing letter to these foods, because any more than one letter to food would just be plain weird.

Dear all of the wonderful eats my mouth has had the privilege of experiencing lately,

Thanks for existing and thanks for the cavities.

I had the most excellent lemon poppyseed pancakes at Whiskey Cake.

. . . topped with maple cream and blueberry compote.

I finally experienced that magic that is a Rainier cherry.

I hope that right now you are judging me for just now learning that they existed.

Josh spoiled me with an authentic American breakfast for the Fourth of July.

I came across my Portland coffee crush, Stumptown, at a local grocery store.

Hallelujah, praise the Lort! 

I was finally brave enough to order the Fluffernutter from the kid's menu at East Hampton Sandwich Co.

A sandwich makes a perfectly suitable dessert, right?

I got pretty darn creative with some popsicles this summer.

The pups approved.

These shrimp and goat cheese crepes from our weekend trip to New Orleans might just win the award for my favorite meal of 2014.

I think I also my have found my all time favorite Moscow Mule (at TruFire Kitchen and Bar).

The secret ingredient: blueberries. 

Another random, stressful Sprinkles ice cream combination for the win:

Smore's ice cream sandwiched between two chocolate chip cookies

I also got a salted oatmeal cornflake cookie for a snack later that day and immediately regretted not sandwiching the smokes ice cream between that. 

Of all the times we've been to HopDoddy, I've never once tried a shake.

I recently divulged in the salted caramel shake and melted in the ooey gooey, custardy perfection of it all.

My brother Michael has been begging us to try Smoke for the last few months.

He finally convinced us this weekend and we think we have found our new all-time favorite Dallas brunch spot.

Pictured above: 

Pulled whole hog bbq eggs benedict with goat cheese potato cakes and cheese grits casserole.

Last week's homemade dinner:

The cheeeeesiest chicken and spinach frittata with a sweet potato crust.

Guys.

It was damn good.

I don't think I've ever cursed on this blog before, but that meal was worth a curse.

Food.

It's the best.