Holly (out of the blue) decided to make homemade pizza the other night. Not a regular cook, I was perplexed by her decision, to say the least.
But then I saw her pie! It looked great, smelled great and tasted excellent!
So, last night we decided she should make another. And this time I set up my camera and laptop to catch her in the act:
Holly in the Kitchen from Jake Donahue on Vimeo.
Last summer I was enjoying three hotdogs from Gittel’s Grocery in Coeur d’Alene so much that I penned a haiku on the subject. Well, it seems I’m not the only fan of those famous franks: A writer for The Spokesman Review in Spokane, Wash., also shares the same love as I.
In fact, he recently wrote an article on the matter (see it here). Even better, he quoted my haiku:
Searching online for details about the subject, I came upon a blog post, written by former local resident Jake Donahue, in which he eloquently waxes poetic about the wonderful wieners at "the Biggest Little Store in Town." His haiku showcases the typical emotional and physiological response to this divine lunchtime tableau: "My mouth salivates/Three for a buck thirty-nine/Hot dogs are pure bliss."
How sweet it is!
I really had to make sure everyone I know sees this commercial by Tobasco, where they encourage you to put their hot sauce on pizza. If it’s not the creepiest thing you’ve ever seen, please let me know what is –- I’d love to know what’s creepier than this:
I just saw this video on YouTube and now I can’t stop thinking about french fries … or a McChicken … or a Coca Cola … mmmmmmm …
Whether ketchup or mustard, it’s still funny!
…would still not look as good as this bad boy! Unless it had onions and sauerkraut, of course.
Blackberry Storm + Photoshop CS4 = Awesome
After leaving Portland last Monday, I drove straight to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where I only had 3 days to see as many people as possible before leaving for Indianapolis. Sad to say, that didn’t work out very well, as I was poor when it came to mixing time with family and friends.
However, the culmination of those three days reared beautifully-smoked garlic- and beer-flavored results from my 
Grandpa’s smoker Wednesday night: four racks of perfectly smoked beef and pork ribs (See them hanging in Grandpa’s wholly customized Brinkman –-> ).
I loved them, my family loved them, but the true food critic of our family (Grandpa, himself) apparently loved them, also: “The best ribs I’ve ever had.”
Indeed, it was true last Wednesday night that perfection can often times be found on a plate.
We left for the airport Thursday morning at 4 a.m., my advisor from The Sentinel Nils Rosdahl along with the paper’s new managing editor, Eli Francovich. The reason for our journey was simple: The Sentinel had been named a finalist for the Society of Professional Journalists’ prestigious national award, The Mark of Excellence. We knew we weren’t winning first place, but the college still decided it would pay to send Nils, Eli and myself to pick up the award.
This is the three of us picking up our award at the conference in Indy. Eli and I were the only people in attendance not wearing a collar.
Damn, even this one impressed me!
The best part? This whole post & photo came from my BlackBerry. I'm back, baby!
Here's a little ditty I penned in my mind whilst devouring these amazing treats from Gittel's Grocery ("The Biggest Little Store in Town")
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