0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false    I love eggs.  C’mon, if you read my blog even sporadically, you already know that!  As I’ve said many times before, I take them anyway they’re handed to me- fried, poached, scrambled...you name it.  Yet, boiling them to a dense, pale yellow center is without question, my least preferred way to “take them.”  Growing up, I often requested my mom prepare me a perfectly timed soft-boiled egg. If my soft-boiled egg was one minute overcooked, I threw a fit.  Yeah, I was that girl.  At age 8, I was awfully particular about eggs.  Go figure.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false    I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I am no food snob.  Hand me a cheeseburger from a greasy dive and I’ll eat it.  Pass me a taco from a street side stand and I’ll devour it.  On the rare occasions when I’m undisturbed with calories, I will consume, well, pretty much anything.  Yet, I can’t bear to think about where some of these questionable ingredients are coming from.  With the unfortunate truth of genetically modified foods, there is nothing I love more than putting fresh, sustainable and local ingredients on my palate.  The Farm to Table movement has become increasingly popular throughout the country but most notably in big cuisine culture cities like San Francisco and Asheville.  Thankfully, Tampa Bay has heard, noted and responded to the movement.  Farm to table eateries have gradually been sprouting up around town and I couldn’t be happier and hungrier for it.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false      Good luck is upon me…oh, how I can feel it in my intuitive bones.  A much loved holiday is rapidly approaching and I couldn’t be more ecstatic for the fun-filled festivities of delicious food and…ahem, fluid.  Time to dig up a dress of clover and some jewels of jade.  A day of Corned Beef and Cabbage and Sheppard’s Pie galore is excitedly awaiting my hungry chops.  An evening with my finest friends: Jameson, Bailey(s) and Guinness will likely be a stellar time for all.  St. Patrick’s Day, you ole, good time, Irish rascal you…I’ve missed you so.  Where shall we reunite?   My town is no Dublin, but will have to make do.  I’ve got a few solid bars up my green sleeve.  Let the Leprechauns lead the way- for we only have today.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false falseReaders: Consider this your official warning/disclaimer.  You will likely find yourself dreaming of runny yolks, crispy home fries and scrumptious pancake stacks as you follow Dash of Les over the next few months.  For an official Tampa Bay brunch tour is underway and I couldn’t be more stoked to share my morning time feasting experiences with all of you.  6 restaurants. 6 mornings of bliss.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false falseI am a total food geek.  This little fact is hardly newsworthy given my publicly known hobby of food blogging.  What you may not know, however, is that I take pictures of…well, pretty much everything I consume. It has often frustrated my dining partners, as I allow no one to touch their plate until I’ve achieved an acceptable shot. Half of these pictures will never make a blog post. So, why, you might ask, I “waste” my precious time insisting on the perfect photo of every breakfast, lunch and dinner I eat?  Simply put, I “foodspot.”  Foodspotting is an international foodie community created and controlled by a company in the culinary heavens of San Francisco. The primary goal is simple: Sharing pictures of excellent food with other foodies who live near…and very, very far.   It is best used as an app on a smart phone but can be accessed from the website as well.  Posting pictures and exchanging compliments with your “foodie friends” can be quite addicting.  The coolest part of it all…I get to see shots of cuisine taken by people who live in India, Greece, Taiwan, Italy and more.

   Ahh brunch, you gluttonous, irresistible devil, you!  Eggs- scrambled, poached, fried over-medium?  Yes please.  I’ll take them all…with some buttered toast for yolk sopping, of course. Crispy, delightfully greasy, thick-cut bacon?  Heck yes.  I’m your biggest fan. Cheesy jalapeno grits, chocolate chip infused pancakes, flaky buttery biscuits covered in creamy sausage gravy…my, oh my.  Bring it on. Oh, how I so adore the occasional Saturday or Sunday feast often topped off with Mimosas and Bloody Marys.  Brunch is without question, my favorite kind of food party.  I say “party” because I don’t typically stuff myself silly and drink alcohol at the 11-o-clock hour unless there’s good reason for the lavish indulging. 

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false    Food blogging certainly has its perks.   I get to flex my creative muscles with my #1 love of writing for thousands of readers near and far.  I also get to justify devouring in ridiculously delicious and often decadent cuisine.  Even when I am “dieting” or attempting a healthy life-style of Paleo, I can make an excuse or two a week with “Well, I have to eat this cream sauced, meat and cheese filled, carbohydrate loaded plate of scrumptiousness…it’s for the sake of my blog!” But, the biggest perk of all is when I am invited to an awesome restaurant and treated like royalty from the second I walk in…to the instant I push in my chair and prance out. 

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false     There is something to be said about hot gooey cheese oozing from the center of some succulent meat.  It kind of makes me giddy…yes, giddy.  I am not ashamed.  As badly as I have yearned for a “Jucy Lucy” recently (a luscious…and very gluttonous cheese-stuffed burger), devouring one of these fat-laden beauties right before bikini season would be an awful decision.  Yet, with the intense Jucy Lucy cravings and a recent and random obsession with Kalamata olives, I began brainstorming.  I had just bought a package of Whole Wheat Israeli couscous that I had been pretty stoked to use too.   I could see clearly now…no obstacles were in my way.   My kitchen would be anxiously awaiting a Mediterranean (cheese stuffed) Meatball creation that my beau would later deem “incredible”- his favorite adjective when his taste buds are pleased. 

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false falseVery seldom does a restaurant allow me to leave feeling refreshed and ready to seize the day.  Too often, I sluggishly walk out the door while holding my stomach in despair and wanting nothing more than a food induced comatose kind of nap.  Vietnamese cuisine is quite the contrary for my mind, body and spirit.  It picks me up when I am feeling blue and cures me when I am feeling ill.  The fragrant herbs, spicy sauces and steamy broths must have Southeast Asian healing powers. I have traveled Tampa near and far, tasting many rolls, numerous pho’s, several Banh Mi’s and countless rice noodle bowls.  I feel that, as a Vietnamese fare fanatic, I must set the record straight.  There is one Vietnamese joint that ranks supreme.  For their unique spin on the delectable and insanely fresh goods, downtown Tampa’s Bambooze Café dominates all.  

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false      Stumbling through the streets of New York City with eleven other fantastic females…well, that my friends, is what I would call a pretty righteous bachelorette party.  Yet, when my dear friend, Emily chose the Big Apple as her (almost) anything goes, estrogen infused, party until you pass out, destination, I immediately cringed.  New York City in January?  A vision of chapped lips, cracked hands, patchy red cheeks and my little body shaking from head to toe quickly swept through my mind.  A born and raised Floridian, I am most certainly the weakest of weak in dreadfully cold temperatures.  But, I took control of my internal whimpering and reminded myself of all the glorious cuisine I would be partaking in.  That is when, the thought of 30-degree weather fazed me no more.  For food in NYC is most definitely in a league of its own.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false            If you’re anything like yours truly, you enjoy burning, puffy lips and a runny nose as you eat.  Okay, chances are, you are nothing like me; for I am a certified weirdo with my passion for insanely spicy foods.  A heat seeker to the point of chaos, I love nothing more than to indulge in hot sauces and spices galore. With my mouth and stomach of steel, I never regret my scorching and oh so satisfying food decisions.  In fact, I tend to toot my own horn for superb genetics that have allowed me to devour a mound of food that would make most cringe and wave a white flag after one bite.  Along with Thai food, where I always order my noodles and Curry dishes “Thai Hot,” I am also a serious sucker for Creole cuisine.  Between my brother’s world famous black roux Gumbo and my delectable and simple Shrimp Creole, I’ve been very fortunate to get my N’awlins food fix on the regular after having not visited the Crescent City in almost 10 years (that little fact is unacceptable and must change soon). 

      I am not a huge fan of Bravo’s Top Chef Masters.  It’s just not my cup of tea…not my glass of overpriced wine. There, I said it.  Moving on.  I am a fan, however, of the show’s host.  A celebrity chef who is as humble as he is talented.  An Aussie chef who is also as friendly as he is gorgeous. Who is this mystery man I am admittedly crushing on as I write?  Curtis Stone.  Curtis Stone, the chef.  Curtis Stone, one of the sexiest men alive according to People Magazine.  Curtis Stone, the man wonder I was so privileged to meet last week when he came to Brandon’s Rolling Pin Kitchen Emporiumto show off his new line of cookware.  

I already miss the easily accessible mouth-watering lobster rolls…those fresh and oh so luscious wonders of the world.  I long for pizza that ranks supreme in my long list of creatively concocted and expertly executed crusts with sauce and toppings galore.  I ache for authentic Chinese dim sum- especially those delicious dumplings I dipped in soy sauce and Sambal.  Fresh North Atlantic seafood and bona fide Italian cuisine are also begging me to come back to the great city of Boston. 

My mom was a foodie long before loving food was “cool”.  A South Tampa native, she grew up with her very own mother’s southern kitchen fixins’ and her grandmother’s authentic Spanish specialties.  She adapted many of these family recipes into her very own kitchen, where she’d show my brother and me the ropes around the stovetop.  Never into baking, her signature dishes were drool-worthy dinners.  When complimented on her scrumptious culinary combos, she would laugh and shake her head, not knowing why on earth anyone would praise her for a skill she deemed mediocre.  Although I did not inherit her modesty, I certainly inherited her trim waistline, allowing my love for food to flourish over the years.   I’m going to let you in on some of her tried and true recipes, her simple supper secrets and her all-time favorite things to eat.