I could dive right into discussing this cassoulet or we could spend a few minutes catching up on New York City. Right, that’s what I thought. I will start with a quick gush: the city from every angle is just, well, beautiful. I feel like I was fully immersed in the way of true city life. Not only was my life threatened within minutes of landing inside its gates (I took this to mean only one thing, I was being welcomed with open arms), I was also smack dab front and center in Times Square. I know, for us tourists it’s the Mecca of NYC, for you New Yorkers it’s like being dragged to your Great-Grandmother’s house to watch golf and eat horrible ham and mayonnaise sandwiches on stale, gummy white wonder (not) bread — yeah, don’t ask. Basically, The Square is the pits for you Big-Apple-blooded permanents, and you don’t go there…ever. And I get it. I wasn’t too excited myself. I’m a bit of an introvert (my husband says that’s the biggest understatement of my life, but you all wouldn’t agree, right? I can talk type a lot. Sometimes.) and being around crowds makes me claustrophobic. And when I say crowd, I mean three people including myself.

Usually I will just hang on my husbands arm and have him pull me through the ocean of walking blobs around me as I choke on all the people (read: like all of them) smoking, but this trip, my anniversary trip, I was all on my own. I’m not going to call out my husband here because now that it’s all over I had a fantastic time (hair cut, I’m talking about you) and well, he’s a pretty great guy so I can’t complain about anything, but this trip was actually a business trip I tagged along on because it fell on a pretty big milestone of ours. Five years, I mean, that’s a pretty big deal. So he conferenced it up during the day, while I hit the streets becoming, what I like to think of as, a true New Yorker. I mean, I had it down. I brought my walking shoes and I bobbed and weaved my way in and out of people, I ignored the stop signals in cross walks and I had my iphone ear buds in rockin’ out to my top 50 secluding myself to my own world of instagram and google maps, because heck, I had no idea how to get around. I even hailed my own cab. I’m legit now.

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I’m sure by now you readers are tired of me talking about naps, lack of energy and meal-less weeks because I’ve been, well, exhausted, but I’m afraid if I don’t make my constant excuse I would only have one thing left to talk about: my husband reenacting the five minute squirrel sequence he saw out his office window the other day — proving that we are clearly not ready to be parents or even interact with this superior race of humans. Despite these word lacking charade-esque conversations, I have had a sudden attack of revitalized energy, which is probably what a normal person feels like, except I’ve been without it for so long the tiniest morsel has sent me off the edge as I have begun scrubbing and reorganizing every nook and cranny of our living space in a feverish attempt to get things clean and pristine before welcoming a little bundle that will look a little too much like us (sorry kid).

Again, probably not the story you want to hear, but it does at least mean we got a hot meal that I now get to discuss. So pot pie, it is perhaps one of my more favorite dinners except this husband of mine had, once upon a time, long, long ago, a pot pie shell that was underbaked and raw and was “apparently forced” to choke this horrible thing down. Which basically meant he had me sign a prenup stating I would never make a pot pie for as long as we live and thus we started our marriage blissful, happy and pot pie-less. Thing is, I believe in the power of genetics. My dad, he is a cereal man. No, I mean, he is like made of cereal. I’ve heard legends of 10-bowl cereals sessions, Grand Canyon sized mixing bowls full of milk covered flakes for his immediate after dinner top off — and well, I sort of inherited this genetic malfunction. I really should think about buying stock in General Mills, but, this is not about cereal. It is about pot pie. My dad also has an addiction to puff pastry topped stews and, well, it has passed on to me as I seem to be addicted as well, only letting myself fall into the temptation of eating one while at a restaurant because of this stupid prenup I had to sign.

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Huevos Racheros. I imagine this would be my daily breakfast had I actually been able to cruise along the coast of Mexico last week instead of diverting my plans due to lame rules. Or it could be my new sudden obsession in this whole wave of pregnancy cravings. First breakfast, then vinegar and now anything that can be wrapped up in a soft tortilla shell and have cheese and sour cream smothered on top.

Regrettably, I don’t have much authentic mexican food to compare this with as this is my take on the whole runny fried egg on an open faced salsa topped taco (which is an ingenious magical idea, I tell you) but if I had actually been interested in eating food while honeymooning in Riviera Maya almost four years ago instead of napping on beach beds and getting sun blisters from being too busy to remember to put on sunscreen (since there are entirely more important things to be doing), I think it would be something like this.

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So I’ve changed my mind. My kid will not be a Russian, but worse  — pickled. Though I’ve tried desperately to mix up the dinner routine with other things (ok, fine, like muffins) I still open my fridge and longingly look at the arugula sitting there waiting for it’s fate as I keep making it wait another day longer. Luckily for me the husband hasn’t complained too much, really at all (because he is totally awesome) that I keep sticking a plate of summer greens under his nose instead of juicy grilled steaks and baked french fry things.

Despite my hardest efforts to display some sort of self control in the hopes my kid will not be born wrinkly, brine-smelling or pink, as that red wine stuff is totally hitting the spot, I have fallen. I saw fresh beans and tomatoes and beautiful summery things in the market and my mind…blew up. It couldn’t stop thinking about salad, salad, salad. And then I started to calculate all the healthy things about a bean and tomato salad, I mean, we’ve got to keep it healthy for this growing little thing inside me that uses my bladder as a speed bag.

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As some of you have noticed there have been some big changes here at The Red Spoon, and we are excited to share them with you:

• We changed our logo! Yes, yes, we know your logo is not something that should be changed and picked apart into something completely different — after all this little site is only growing in popularity and should remain, for the most part unchanged. But as you know, I am a impossibly picky and well, nothing satisfies my unstoppable need to change things until they are right (read: they will never be right). So we have created a new logo.
• We added new graphics! With the new logo change, the old pictures felt big and stuffy. We changed them to fun, colorful little graphics (you can see them on the sidebar and tops of the recipe index and conversion pages, and throughout the produce stand, how to and tip pages) giving us more white space, meaning we have finally broken free of the stuffy chamber we were suffocating you in! What do you think? Too artsy? Too cliparty?
• We created a FAQ page! Within a year of this little food blog’s creation we have received many questions we are only now starting to answer for all to see. It is growing quickly so please check the FAQs (located under Resources on the left sidebar) if you have any questions.

• You can email a post! You can print a post! You can bookmark and share a post! Look at how fun we are! This is several months old, but all part of our major renovation project. Under each post after the recipe, but before the comments you will see a little section that says “Do More”. We have included a link where you can print the recipe portion of a post, email the recipe to a friend, family member or someone you hopes gets the hint, and lastly you can share the recipe on such social network sites like facebook, twitter, stumble upon, or digg. They are all there, hundreds of them, waiting for you to pass on to others.
• We set up a Flickr pool for all to upload their Red Spoon creations! Yes, months after dragging our feet, we finally took up our dear friend’s suggestion and created a place where all who have tested, tried or adapted a recipe from The Red Spoon can share with others what they created. We shall be waiting with anticipation to see all the yummy things coming from your kitchens!

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