Jesse once told me that I should pitch a show to the Travel Channel about traveling on your own, because I take trips by myself more than anyone he has ever known.
That may be true; I do head out of town by myself far more often than I go with other people. Whenever other women hear that I plan to go away by myself, they either say they could never do that and express admiration that I do, or say I do the same thing. Isn't it the best way to travel? When anyone asks why, I give the standard spiel about how no one else has the time, money, or desire to travel as often as I do, so I just say fuck it and take the trip alone.
Fact is, I like traveling solo. In many cases, I prefer it. I love my friends. I rely on them in many ways; they're more family to me than my relatives. But when it comes down to it, more often than not, I want to do things in life by myself... especially the big stuff, the really hard stuff. I don't know if that exemplifies a fierce independence, a neurotic need for freedom, or just a fundamental tendency to be a loner.
For many years, I depended heavily on people, never did much on my own terms, and found I was extremely disappointed when they didn't come through, or simply felt lonely when they weren't around. To be honest, I didn't get all that much out of it. Several years ago, that all stopped, and my preference moved toward doing things alone. I'm not sure what changed, but since then I've experienced much more than I ever would have, waiting around for others to join me.
The society in which we live encourages women to have a fear and hatred of being alone. You need a partner to make you happy, you need girlfriends to support you in every action, you need protection from all the bad things in the world. We are the prey in a world full of predators. But all that does is limit our experience, our happiness. I've written about it before: there's really nothing more fulfilling, more confidence-building, than going off to a completely unfamilar place, having a great time, with no one to rely on but yourself. Sure, there may be some sense of insecurity, some self-doubt, but overcoming that just makes it all the more satisfying.
It's not just women, though; no one can manage to be alone anymore. Go to any public place and look around you. Anyone without a companion is talking on the phone or texting, is shut off from the world with an ipod, or has their head down over a laptop. What happened to the simple joy of going out into the world by yourself and seeing what happens? Maybe you'll meet someone new, see something entertaining in the crowd around you, or just have a nice time with the company of your own thoughts.
The weirdest thing about traveling solo is never having a guarantee of anyone to talk to, except the customer service staff directly related to your trip. That means that you either have to put yourself out there and meet people, or be your own only friend. I go back and forth on those options, with the latter winning a lot of the time, hence the loner comment above. When I do meet people, they're often guys (same as at home), and it can take some time to figure out if they're trying to pick me up, or just being friendly. Since I'm not out on trips to hook up, I have no interest in that prospect. On my last trip to Europe, I got hit on in every country I visited, and most were so obvious that I just pretended I didn't understand what they were saying and moved on. For the less obvious, I tend to imply that I left a significant other back in Seattle, and excuse myself from the situation. Unfortunately, there are some people out there who don't mean well, and particularly like to prey upon tourists. Then the key is to listen closely to your instincts, and not engage with someone who doesn't feel safe. It's better to be extra careful than to end up a cautionary tale that reinforces the fears of others.
To make it easier, most of the time no one knows you're a lone traveler unless you tell them so. In many locations, you're immersed in a mix of visitors and locals, and can just blend in. It only becomes very clear that you're on a solo trip in situations where there are nothing but other travelers in your midst. My all-inclusive in Cabo was one of those environments; all of the other guests at the resort had their social circles pretty well defined. Couples were happy with just each other, but might bond with fellow couples; families were happy on their own, but wouldn't shy away from other families; groups of singles were content to party together, but were really seeking others to hook up with. I was none of the above, so apart from the occasional random conversation, I spent the trip with myself. Keen observer that I am, though, I tended to notice anyone else in my own small category.
Oddly, in that situation, I think I found another me. I spotted a woman about my age a few times, always sitting alone, with that solo traveler vibe. I didn't bother approaching her, considering my poor track record in making friends with women. Plus, when I last saw her, she brought her laptop to dinner. It's almost as clear a sign as painting Fuck you across your forehead. She clearly was another me, neither of us looking for friends.
I don't really think there's a moral to this particular story. I just want to encourage everyone to have their own adventures, whether or not anyone will be along with them. Having people around is good, but being totally dependent upon others isn't. Going off on my own has been one of the best things I've ever done, and continues to be one of my very favorite things to do. It's one of the things that makes me truly happy.
And I can't wait to go do it again...
Saturday 22 January 2011
Tuesday 18 January 2011
My Happy Place
My day of relaxation in the sun yesterday was a complete success. I spent the whole time lounging around various spots in the resort, read an entire book, and even managed not to get sunburned. I was, unfortunately, caught by a mosquito or two, leaving a few red, itchy welts down my left arm. I'm not sure what makes that particular appendage so tasty, but the rest of me was left alone.
At one point, I glanced up in the bathroom mirror while washing my hands and thought, Damn! This beachwear makes me look cute! Then I looked a second longer -- swimsuit peeking out of a cheap coverup brought back from Hawaii, hair in a messy ponytail, sunglasses atop my head, no makeup, skin shiny from sunscreen -- and realized that I didn't look cute at all. What I did look was relaxed; I looked happy. Apparently, that's more flattering than anything else I could do. Who knew?
Since I don't have much else to say, I'll just share a few of the views I enjoyed yesterday, and get back to my last full day in the sun.
Monday 17 January 2011
Margaritaville
I finally feel like I'm on vacation.
Yesterday, I only left my room for specific errands -- eating, checking out the gift shop, visiting the one small area of the complex with wifi -- and spent the bulk of the day curled up in bed, blowing my nose. Last night around 10, out on my balcony in the midst of muffled strains of It's Raining Men from the Disco, I also heard crickets, and the crashing of waves against the shore. I looked up at the stars, felt the breeze, and became determined not to waste my remaining days here in the sun.
Luckily I woke up early this morning, still with a cold, but feeling much, much better. So, after breakfast, I packed my beach bag with essentials, slathered myself in sunscreen (even with only a few minutes outdoors yesterday my nose turned a lively pink), and vowed not to go back to my room until sundown. I'm certain this much pleases the non-English-speaking maid, who was quite dismayed yesterday to keep finding a "Do not disturb"sign on my door, no matter how many times she returned, desperate to clean up after me.
As I started my day walking on to the private beach, Jimmy Buffett's perennial resort favorite Margaritaville was playing, which struck me as cheesily apropos, although since I don't wear flip-flops, I'm unlikely to blow one out during my time here.
So in that spirit, I'm now going to shut down this electronic leash and head back to reading by the pool, where odds are high that my latest foray into the world of Bill Bryson will be accompanied by my third (or so) beer of the day.
Life is good here. Wish you were here... but mostly very glad that I am.
Yesterday, I only left my room for specific errands -- eating, checking out the gift shop, visiting the one small area of the complex with wifi -- and spent the bulk of the day curled up in bed, blowing my nose. Last night around 10, out on my balcony in the midst of muffled strains of It's Raining Men from the Disco, I also heard crickets, and the crashing of waves against the shore. I looked up at the stars, felt the breeze, and became determined not to waste my remaining days here in the sun.
Luckily I woke up early this morning, still with a cold, but feeling much, much better. So, after breakfast, I packed my beach bag with essentials, slathered myself in sunscreen (even with only a few minutes outdoors yesterday my nose turned a lively pink), and vowed not to go back to my room until sundown. I'm certain this much pleases the non-English-speaking maid, who was quite dismayed yesterday to keep finding a "Do not disturb"sign on my door, no matter how many times she returned, desperate to clean up after me.
As I started my day walking on to the private beach, Jimmy Buffett's perennial resort favorite Margaritaville was playing, which struck me as cheesily apropos, although since I don't wear flip-flops, I'm unlikely to blow one out during my time here.
So in that spirit, I'm now going to shut down this electronic leash and head back to reading by the pool, where odds are high that my latest foray into the world of Bill Bryson will be accompanied by my third (or so) beer of the day.
Life is good here. Wish you were here... but mostly very glad that I am.
Sunday 16 January 2011
Party Central
There are definitely things I like about my trip so far. The weather is mid-70s, warm and sunny, but not humid. That means I can dress normally without constantly shvitzing, and my often large hair is behaving itself. The resort has lots of choices for anything I could possibly need, and the service is fantastic. What I don't enjoy is the constant party atmosphere.
It's only quiet here between about 1 and 8am. Although I may not act like it, I'm almost 35, and in some ways I'm old. This resort is full of drunk 20-somethings looking for a chance to act as stupid as humanly possible. I'm almost never up for that anymore. And, funny thing, since I medicated myself so well for the flight, I forgot that I was coming down with a cold. My body made me remember this morning. It puts me in even less of a let's-all-get-shitfaced-and-woooo kind of mood.
Despite the noise, I managed to sleep until almost noon. By the time I got out of bed, my nose was fully clogged and my eyes were so puffy and black from sinus pressure that I almost looked like I'd lost a fight. The desk clerk told me at check-in that all of the football playoffs would be shown in the sports bar, which made me happy at the time. Now that the Seahawks game is in full swing, though, I have no desire to watch it with a crowd of boozers.* I just want to take lots of cold medicine, drink coffee, sit in the shade, and try to feel human. So far, it's working. By later this afternoon, maybe I'll be ready to resume my plan of lazing around on the beach or by the pool, but right now, I can't deal with the wild and crazy all around me. It puts a bit of a damper on my vacation.
At least I have a couple more days to get over this and get my coping skills back. Under normal circumstances, I can easily ignore the partiers and enjoy my relaxation. And really, I'd much rather be sick here than back in the cold Seattle rain.
At least it's a start.
*Due to limited wifi availability, this is being posted long after I wrote it. I suppose that means I can mention that I did end up watching the last few minutes of the game, which was clearly the part most worth seeing in that sad showing.
It's only quiet here between about 1 and 8am. Although I may not act like it, I'm almost 35, and in some ways I'm old. This resort is full of drunk 20-somethings looking for a chance to act as stupid as humanly possible. I'm almost never up for that anymore. And, funny thing, since I medicated myself so well for the flight, I forgot that I was coming down with a cold. My body made me remember this morning. It puts me in even less of a let's-all-get-shitfaced-and-woooo kind of mood.
Despite the noise, I managed to sleep until almost noon. By the time I got out of bed, my nose was fully clogged and my eyes were so puffy and black from sinus pressure that I almost looked like I'd lost a fight. The desk clerk told me at check-in that all of the football playoffs would be shown in the sports bar, which made me happy at the time. Now that the Seahawks game is in full swing, though, I have no desire to watch it with a crowd of boozers.* I just want to take lots of cold medicine, drink coffee, sit in the shade, and try to feel human. So far, it's working. By later this afternoon, maybe I'll be ready to resume my plan of lazing around on the beach or by the pool, but right now, I can't deal with the wild and crazy all around me. It puts a bit of a damper on my vacation.
At least I have a couple more days to get over this and get my coping skills back. Under normal circumstances, I can easily ignore the partiers and enjoy my relaxation. And really, I'd much rather be sick here than back in the cold Seattle rain.
At least it's a start.
*Due to limited wifi availability, this is being posted long after I wrote it. I suppose that means I can mention that I did end up watching the last few minutes of the game, which was clearly the part most worth seeing in that sad showing.
Saturday 15 January 2011
Los Cabos
Well, here I am on my second trip to Mexico. Last year I went to Playa del Carmen, so this time I opted for the other side of the country, staying in Cabo San Lucas. Any vacation to a tourist area holds a particular risk of being milked for every last peso in your wallet, but I can already see that the different resort centers have very different desires for my money.
Around Cancun, the primary industry is tourism, so you can't go 4 feet without being enthusiastically sold this tour, or that tacky souvenir. In Cabo, that exists to some extent, but ultimately, it's all about the time share.
I arrived at the Los Cabos airport this afternoon, moved quickly through passport control and customs, then found myself looking for the representative of my pre-arranged hotel shuttle. Within seconds, a concierge of sorts called me over to the desk to assist me in finding the correct Guy With a Sign. I thanked him and was starting to leave, when he asked if this was my first trip to Cabo. The sunshine and a couple of mini bottles of vodka on the plane had me feeling chatty, so I said that it was, and continued in conversation with him about the best restaurants and clubs downtown, as well as various tourist activities in the area.
The truth is, I'm really just here to sit on the beach, drink, read a lot, and generally shut down for a few days; I don't especially have a desire to leave my giant hotel complex. However, I have been known to get bored quickly when I'm trying to relax, and figured it couldn't hurt to at least know what overpriced tours were out there. He kept pushing a sunset cruise and whale watching, neither of which really appealed to me, and just when I was about to zone out, he mentioned a free brunch. In a brand new resort. Which required me to be over 28, and have a major credit card, and to sign up for a reservation right now.
Um. No. I had been warned that there were a lot of time share traps here, but really? I'd only been in the country for 15 minutes!
I told the guy I'd think about it (not so much), but I was just going to head to the hotel and make up my mind later (hint: not interested, leave me alone). That just kicked off the hard sell. He needed to make a reservation immediately or I'd lose out on all this free crap! He'd throw in free transportation to the place and a bottle of tequila. Sorry, not interested. How about TWO bottles of tequila? Some free snorkeling or kayaking?
I managed to escape without being signed up for anything, but now know that I must be extra vigilant; even many of the hotels here are part time share. Luckily I'm staying at Riu, a chain which I've enjoyed before and know is just a decadent all-inclusive resort, pure and simple.
So after being greeted with a margarita at the front desk, here I am in my room, drinking a Dos Equis and watching the Habs on Hockey Night in Canada, the sun setting on the clear, warm day. Perfect.
I only landed 2 hours ago, and I'm already much more relaxed and happy than I was yesterday. My room is right between the beach and the Party Pool (with its own 3 bars), my mini-bar and liquor dispenser are full, and dinner is being served right downstairs. Why would I need to go off and do any tourist activities?
Watch out... here comes Vacation Sarah...
Around Cancun, the primary industry is tourism, so you can't go 4 feet without being enthusiastically sold this tour, or that tacky souvenir. In Cabo, that exists to some extent, but ultimately, it's all about the time share.
I arrived at the Los Cabos airport this afternoon, moved quickly through passport control and customs, then found myself looking for the representative of my pre-arranged hotel shuttle. Within seconds, a concierge of sorts called me over to the desk to assist me in finding the correct Guy With a Sign. I thanked him and was starting to leave, when he asked if this was my first trip to Cabo. The sunshine and a couple of mini bottles of vodka on the plane had me feeling chatty, so I said that it was, and continued in conversation with him about the best restaurants and clubs downtown, as well as various tourist activities in the area.
The truth is, I'm really just here to sit on the beach, drink, read a lot, and generally shut down for a few days; I don't especially have a desire to leave my giant hotel complex. However, I have been known to get bored quickly when I'm trying to relax, and figured it couldn't hurt to at least know what overpriced tours were out there. He kept pushing a sunset cruise and whale watching, neither of which really appealed to me, and just when I was about to zone out, he mentioned a free brunch. In a brand new resort. Which required me to be over 28, and have a major credit card, and to sign up for a reservation right now.
Um. No. I had been warned that there were a lot of time share traps here, but really? I'd only been in the country for 15 minutes!
I told the guy I'd think about it (not so much), but I was just going to head to the hotel and make up my mind later (hint: not interested, leave me alone). That just kicked off the hard sell. He needed to make a reservation immediately or I'd lose out on all this free crap! He'd throw in free transportation to the place and a bottle of tequila. Sorry, not interested. How about TWO bottles of tequila? Some free snorkeling or kayaking?
I managed to escape without being signed up for anything, but now know that I must be extra vigilant; even many of the hotels here are part time share. Luckily I'm staying at Riu, a chain which I've enjoyed before and know is just a decadent all-inclusive resort, pure and simple.
So after being greeted with a margarita at the front desk, here I am in my room, drinking a Dos Equis and watching the Habs on Hockey Night in Canada, the sun setting on the clear, warm day. Perfect.
I only landed 2 hours ago, and I'm already much more relaxed and happy than I was yesterday. My room is right between the beach and the Party Pool (with its own 3 bars), my mini-bar and liquor dispenser are full, and dinner is being served right downstairs. Why would I need to go off and do any tourist activities?
Watch out... here comes Vacation Sarah...
Saturday 8 January 2011
Life's Grand Central Station
Have you ever noticed how Life, both the high and the low, seems to happen all at once? This has been one hell of a few days.
Tuesday
I went out with my boys Jordan, Marshall, and Steve, had some drinks, and a lot of fun. No drama, nothing out of the ordinary. It was pretty much our standard Every Tuesday Night Out.
Wednesday
Jordan had some things happen at work that, while he is not directly involved and still employed, left him scrambling to find a new job as quickly as possible. I wasn't feeling very well, but just assumed it was a result of staying out too late the night before, so I took a quick nap after work and met with Jordan for an early night of cheap beers and stress release.
Meanwhile, Marshall had his own relationship drama brewing, which none of us knew about until later.
Thursday
I woke up with a cold, but went to work anyway, assuming I could cope. By noon, I could tell I was running a low-grade fever, so I relocated myself to my couch with a blanket and ginger tea.
While I was curled up watching Netflix, Steve went in for a simple outpatient surgery. No one expected any complications, so I called him in the late afternoon, just to see how he was feeling and to let him know that I was contagious and couldn't visit for a couple of days. That quickly changed.
Steve answered the phone in a panic, bleeding profusely, so I immediately sprung into action; giving him the flu was no longer any concern. While I battled traffic to Steve's house, I had the thought that maybe Typhoid Mary shouldn't be taking care of Bloody Mary, so I called Jordan -- who astutely pointed out that he's just Mary -- and asked if he could be available for backup if I needed it later on. His response: "I'm on my way."
Between us, Jordan and I worked out our plan with the doctor, took Steve down to the hospital to get the bleeding under control, got all of Steve's prescriptions, settled him in for bed with everything he'd need, and cleaned up his bathroom, which looked like a murder scene. I got home a little after 10, and finally had the chance to sit down and decompress. As soon as the caretaker mindset left me and the adrenaline drained from my body, I once again noticed how sick I really felt. After confirming that Steve had someone with him for the night, I relaxed, took some cold medicine, and went to bed.
But still, I didn't sleep well.
Friday
Friday morning, I felt no better... perhaps worse... so I called in sick to work and went about trying to take care of myself. In the early afternoon, Jordan alerted me that Steve had ended up in the Emergency Room in the wee hours, but didn't have any further details. Steve finally texted back (possibly by proxy) that he was sleeping, but he'd send an update later.
Realizing that I couldn't do anything but wait for Steve's message, I decided to take a shower and get on with my day, having only a brief meltdown in the process. Since that day happened to be Marshall's birthday, I took some decongestant, bundled up, and headed out with him and Jordan for dinner and the party. While the three of us enjoyed our pho, Steve sent out an update via e-mail, which I read aloud at the table. His complications were ongoing, and it turned out that the simple procedure was actually very risky in his case; had the doctors known, he never would have gotten the surgery in the first place.
We all thanked whatever form of luck or deity we could come up with that Steve was stable, and being well taken care of by doctors and friends. Then we put our focus back on the birthday celebration and headed down to meet all of Marshall's friends at the Lobby.
I can't say enough to sum up the revelry of the night; everyone had a great time, old and new friends alike. We drank more than our fair share at 2 bars, the second of which we left only because they were closing, and had street hot dogs on the way home -- my camera documenting the festivities every step of the way. I ended the night in a group hug with Marshall and Jordan outside my place, and went to bed somewhere in the vicinity of 3am.
Saturday
Today, things finally seem to be slowing down, getting back to usual. I slept in, woke up with no hangover, but my cold still in full force, and decided to spend the day in my pajamas. I watched the Seahawks beat the defending Superbowl champs in the NFC wild card playoff game, against all odds (WOO-HOO!), then turned to see Montreal battle the Bruins on Hockey Night in Canada.
Of course, Steve still isn't out of the woods, and he's been on my mind all day. I continue to be on edge emotionally, and in pretty poor shape physically. It's not exactly a typical Saturday, but it's getting there.
At least that's something.
Tuesday
I went out with my boys Jordan, Marshall, and Steve, had some drinks, and a lot of fun. No drama, nothing out of the ordinary. It was pretty much our standard Every Tuesday Night Out.
Wednesday
Jordan had some things happen at work that, while he is not directly involved and still employed, left him scrambling to find a new job as quickly as possible. I wasn't feeling very well, but just assumed it was a result of staying out too late the night before, so I took a quick nap after work and met with Jordan for an early night of cheap beers and stress release.
Meanwhile, Marshall had his own relationship drama brewing, which none of us knew about until later.
Thursday
I woke up with a cold, but went to work anyway, assuming I could cope. By noon, I could tell I was running a low-grade fever, so I relocated myself to my couch with a blanket and ginger tea.
While I was curled up watching Netflix, Steve went in for a simple outpatient surgery. No one expected any complications, so I called him in the late afternoon, just to see how he was feeling and to let him know that I was contagious and couldn't visit for a couple of days. That quickly changed.
Steve answered the phone in a panic, bleeding profusely, so I immediately sprung into action; giving him the flu was no longer any concern. While I battled traffic to Steve's house, I had the thought that maybe Typhoid Mary shouldn't be taking care of Bloody Mary, so I called Jordan -- who astutely pointed out that he's just Mary -- and asked if he could be available for backup if I needed it later on. His response: "I'm on my way."
Between us, Jordan and I worked out our plan with the doctor, took Steve down to the hospital to get the bleeding under control, got all of Steve's prescriptions, settled him in for bed with everything he'd need, and cleaned up his bathroom, which looked like a murder scene. I got home a little after 10, and finally had the chance to sit down and decompress. As soon as the caretaker mindset left me and the adrenaline drained from my body, I once again noticed how sick I really felt. After confirming that Steve had someone with him for the night, I relaxed, took some cold medicine, and went to bed.
But still, I didn't sleep well.
Friday
Friday morning, I felt no better... perhaps worse... so I called in sick to work and went about trying to take care of myself. In the early afternoon, Jordan alerted me that Steve had ended up in the Emergency Room in the wee hours, but didn't have any further details. Steve finally texted back (possibly by proxy) that he was sleeping, but he'd send an update later.
Realizing that I couldn't do anything but wait for Steve's message, I decided to take a shower and get on with my day, having only a brief meltdown in the process. Since that day happened to be Marshall's birthday, I took some decongestant, bundled up, and headed out with him and Jordan for dinner and the party. While the three of us enjoyed our pho, Steve sent out an update via e-mail, which I read aloud at the table. His complications were ongoing, and it turned out that the simple procedure was actually very risky in his case; had the doctors known, he never would have gotten the surgery in the first place.
We all thanked whatever form of luck or deity we could come up with that Steve was stable, and being well taken care of by doctors and friends. Then we put our focus back on the birthday celebration and headed down to meet all of Marshall's friends at the Lobby.
I can't say enough to sum up the revelry of the night; everyone had a great time, old and new friends alike. We drank more than our fair share at 2 bars, the second of which we left only because they were closing, and had street hot dogs on the way home -- my camera documenting the festivities every step of the way. I ended the night in a group hug with Marshall and Jordan outside my place, and went to bed somewhere in the vicinity of 3am.
Saturday
Today, things finally seem to be slowing down, getting back to usual. I slept in, woke up with no hangover, but my cold still in full force, and decided to spend the day in my pajamas. I watched the Seahawks beat the defending Superbowl champs in the NFC wild card playoff game, against all odds (WOO-HOO!), then turned to see Montreal battle the Bruins on Hockey Night in Canada.
Of course, Steve still isn't out of the woods, and he's been on my mind all day. I continue to be on edge emotionally, and in pretty poor shape physically. It's not exactly a typical Saturday, but it's getting there.
At least that's something.
Tuesday 4 January 2011
Where Bacon and Bakin' Meet
My OG* Neal is not a fan of sweets. He is, however, a voracious bacon lover. These facts have become legend around the workplace, so we recently killed time waiting for a meeting by tossing around the idea of bacon desserts with a couple of our fellow worker bees.
Out of this came the preliminary recipe for bacon/maple cheesecake. The more I thought about it, the more I mentally worked out the concept. I became obsessed. Then I made one. It didn't really work out as well as I had hoped.
I learned some lessons; I'd make a few changes if I tried it again, but mostly I was just disappointed and disillusioned with the whole idea. Luckily I used the leftover ingredients to create something wonderful, easy, and delicious, which I would definitely make again. Not wanting to be a failure, I offer the world:
Bacon Dumplings
You need:
1/2 cup candied bacon** (chopped into very small pieces)
4oz (half pkg) softened cream cheese
Pie crust dough
Mixture of equal parts egg whites + pure maple syrup
Mix together bacon and cream cheese in a bowl
Roll out pie dough and cut into squares, about 2" by 2"
Place a spoonful of bacon/cheese mix in the center of each dough square, and fold up the sides so the filling is completely covered
Place dumplings seam-side down on a parchment lined baking sheet
Brush all exposed areas of the dumpling with egg/syrup mixture
Bake at 375 for 10-15 minutes
Serve warm or room temperature
There are so many variations that could be made: savory version using plain cooked bacon and no syrup; Italian-inspired with garlic and a little fresh basil... so many ideas. I love these little snacks. I wish I had some right now!
It's so nice that something good came out of the sad cheesecake. And now everyone knows what appetizers I'll be bringing to their parties! If I was ever invited to parties. I mean. Um.
Nevermind.
*Original Gay
**There are lots of methods to create candied bacon, the link is just one. It doesn't really matter what you do, as long as the end product is cooked bacon coated with caramelized sugar
Out of this came the preliminary recipe for bacon/maple cheesecake. The more I thought about it, the more I mentally worked out the concept. I became obsessed. Then I made one. It didn't really work out as well as I had hoped.
I learned some lessons; I'd make a few changes if I tried it again, but mostly I was just disappointed and disillusioned with the whole idea. Luckily I used the leftover ingredients to create something wonderful, easy, and delicious, which I would definitely make again. Not wanting to be a failure, I offer the world:
Bacon Dumplings
You need:
1/2 cup candied bacon** (chopped into very small pieces)
4oz (half pkg) softened cream cheese
Pie crust dough
Mixture of equal parts egg whites + pure maple syrup
Mix together bacon and cream cheese in a bowl
Roll out pie dough and cut into squares, about 2" by 2"
Place a spoonful of bacon/cheese mix in the center of each dough square, and fold up the sides so the filling is completely covered
Place dumplings seam-side down on a parchment lined baking sheet
Brush all exposed areas of the dumpling with egg/syrup mixture
Bake at 375 for 10-15 minutes
Serve warm or room temperature
There are so many variations that could be made: savory version using plain cooked bacon and no syrup; Italian-inspired with garlic and a little fresh basil... so many ideas. I love these little snacks. I wish I had some right now!
It's so nice that something good came out of the sad cheesecake. And now everyone knows what appetizers I'll be bringing to their parties! If I was ever invited to parties. I mean. Um.
Nevermind.
*Original Gay
**There are lots of methods to create candied bacon, the link is just one. It doesn't really matter what you do, as long as the end product is cooked bacon coated with caramelized sugar
Saturday 1 January 2011
The Starting Line... 2011
I don't have much to say about 2011 yet. So far the year has been good to me, starting out with friends, fun and no hangover.
I like this trend; let's see if it continues...
I like this trend; let's see if it continues...
Happy New Year!
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