My son is getting married in October and I’m thrilled. We love his fiancé. The engagement party was a big success, and the majority of the arrangements—the location, the caterer, the rehearsal dinner, the band—are taken care of. There’s just one major decision left, and it’s stressing me out. I need to find a dress. Unlike some of my friends,… Read more →
I grew up in a comfortable community where my mother always had dinner on the table by 6:30 every night. There was salad, a rotation of chicken and lamb chops and rib eye, and baked potato or rice. To this day my mom claims she isn’t “the best” cook in the world, but I pretty much licked my plate before grabbing an apple or scooter pie and heading upstairs to finish my homework.
I’m not sure what went sideways between those home-cooked meals and my adult life in the kitchen (or not in the kitchen), but I have a good guess. First, I never cooked in college and grad school. I was always on some meal plan and even when I lived in Boston with roommates, they preferred to cook and I preferred to eat, so it was a perfect relationship.
Then, as a reporter and correspondent I never seemed to have the time to cook. I was either getting beeped to cover some airline strike or sent overseas to cover some big sports events (someone had to do it). In those days I’d grab a corned beef sandwich in NYC or some fish and chips in London and call it a day.
Back in DC as a mom I was lucky enough to have a lovely woman help me out with my daughter while I worked. The fact she could roast a chicken and make rice for everyone’s dinner iced the cake and allowed my daughter (and her parents) to have a home cooked meal while I worked late.
And now, as a working adult who’s out and about most of the week, whenever I come home and am hungry there’s only one priority…how fast can I make dinner? Yes, I shop at Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods, but it’s a slice of pizza here, a container of fruit or a side dish of pasta there. It’s never those six, heavy bags filled to the brim with food that my mother used to schlep into the house. So, my at-home menu is as follows: peanut butter & (grape) jelly on whole wheat bread, tuna sandwich with tomato and mayo (the real stuff) on whole wheat toast or sardine sandwich with tomato and mayo on whole wheat toast. Dessert is an apple or container of apple sauce and maybe potato chips if I crave salt that night.
The ultimate irony? I love The Food Network and could hypnotically watch Guy Fieri eat his way through every diner, drive-in and dive from Trenton to Sacramento while I eat my pb&j (creamy not chunky). When not watching Guy, it might be Chopped, or Beat Bobby Flay, Knife Fight or Andrew Zimmern munching on some grilled squirrel kidneys.
Feel sorry for me? Don’t. Most of the week I’m out with friends or clients eating everything from lobster ravioli to steak frites. And I’m even considering cooking school. If I can go to Tuscany, pull on an apron and sip some chianti while my classmates perfect their brown butter gnocchi, I’ll book the very next flight.
I’ll be honest. I have an addiction. I spend a lot of my money on it, and go out of my way to get it. It makes me run better, think clearer, move quicker. My whole day basically revolves around it and I think about it all the time. I’m even thinking about it right now.
I’m talking about coffee.
I was introduced to coffee at a very young age by my European parents, who would serve it any time of the day, even after dinner. It has become a ritual to always have a perfect cup of coffee in hand. I have stopped counting how many types of coffee beans we have at home or the number of coffee makers are in the kitchen cabinets. Each time my family travels to Europe, we take one empty suitcase to pile at least 10 kilos of coffee beans—and each time cringe at U.S. customs officers if they question us for doing so. Now as an adult, I spend less time at home and more time settling down in the city—and often settling for coffee that is mediocre at best.
I have made it my mission to find the best coffee place in DC. Sometimes after work, I seek out one of them with the help of Siri, Yelp and Google. I always order the same drink at each place—a single shot of espresso—because I was taught to tell how good coffee is by tasting it in its most reduced form.
So where are my favorite places to get coffee in the nation’s capital? For a classic and European cup, Illy Caffé is a bit pricey but perfect. The Coffee Bar slides into second place for its edgy “coffee on tap” and New York City artsy atmosphere. Finally, Kramerbooks & Afterwords Café comes in third with its must-have cappuccino.
So where am I headed today? I’m in the mood for some excellent espresso and European flavor. Siri, please take me to Illy Caffé!
