It’s been four months since I moved, and no, I haven’t really stayed away. I’ve been back to NYC for weeks at a time each and every month to cater and cavort with my Tribe. I miss my friends, and I really miss the food, but each time I get back on that bus to Boston, I’m happy to be headed… home?
Home is as much a concept as a construct; as malleable as clay but made from bricks and mortar, my home seems always to follow my heart. My heart followed me to Boston and the historic townhouse Mr. Mix and I have snuggly settled into over these past four months since last I wrote. On a tiny little block in a podunk little neighborhood lit by gaslight and featuring no more than five mediocre restaurants, Charlestown is where this Food Maven has come to hang her hat; if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime these last four months. Splitting my time between New York and New England, I somehow managed to squeeze in a father-daughter trip to the Arizona desert, spent a week in wine country where we caught the crush at the very instant the grapes gave way to raisins, toasted Thanksgiving round Mr. Mix’s family table in Chicago, hosted my Mamma and friends who road-tripped it to Charlestown to help warm our home, published my very first magazine article, and celebrated my 4-year anniversary as a blogging chef. Oh, and did I mention my bestie got engaged!
Somewhere in there I made time to take a breath, stop and think about all I’ve learned since moving. After 15 years in New York City, it was harder to leave and easier to leave behind than I had ever imagined it could be. I don’t love Boston, but I love my man—and like the non-Romney republicans (and let me be crystal clear here…this is surely the only quality we share), I’m learning to appreciate what there is to love about non-New York.
New York City may house my hunger and the best restaurants the world over, but my heart now calls Boston home.
10 Things I’ve learned about life since moving to Boston
1) I’m not as scared of the suburbs as I thought. Don’t get me wrong, I still live in a city and I’m not ready to be desperate or a housewife, but…
2) I’m an even bigger food snob than I thought, and the Boston restaurant scene leaves me aching for my favorite New York City late-night haunts.
3) My kitchen makes it all okay—even after another mediocre meal, I can always come home and cook. Sneak a photo peek of my garden kitchen and cookbook collection here.
4) Quiet is calming, and without the constant rush of Manhattan’s mania, I have more time to refocus, revitalize, rejoice.
5) My appetite is a moveable feast, and watching the season’s change in New England gives me renewed ambition to eat as seasonally, locally and organically as possible.
6) Fame follows fortune. As soon as I stopped blogging I had the great fortune of being featured on two other blogs known for their “wicked smart” stories. Check me out on Epicurious and Patrick McMullen.
Hosting makes me happy. I always suspected, but never really knew how much I’d love to fill my house with friends, family and feasts.
9) MBA’s are no joke and Mr. Mix is killing it—but it’s not easy (on either of us). Remember exams? All-nighters? Presentations? Grades!
10) I miss blogging. It’s taken me awhile to put the proverbial pen to paper, but now that I am back you can expect new posts on this page each and every week.