Hello, blogging world. I am the proud contributor of grub like a girl.
I’ve always cherished good food; the restaurants that serve it, the energy around enjoying it, and blogs dedicated to talking about it. In the past (pre-grub like a girl), I’d been blogaking (blog-stalking) other food critic articles and blogs and their take on dishes and restaurants. After moving to Richmond from Texas in 2011, I decided I’d give it my own whimsical shot. In June 2011, I went for brunch, came home, and wrote about my experience … in my own quirky way, of course.
The premise is a person (me) discovering the old and new restaurants, food trends, and quirks in Richmond. Although the name “grub like a girl” may come off sweet and appealing only to female readers, I assure you my blog is gender-less and can charm any type of reader…unless people who don’t like food, then we have a problem.
On a personal side, my real name is Bethany. Besides keeping my blog stayin’ strong, I’m take up residence with my partner and two pups in the West End suburbia (we’re actually looking to move to downtown or Lakeside area in the next year…I couldn’t be any happier). I work full time, dabble in painting, keep healthy by running, and discover new indie music that eventually goes mainstream (sigh).
Although I may not be grammatically correct (I prefer it that way actually) or post sporadically (schedule-less) my blog is my baby, with nourishment and balanced attention I’ve created something that people actually read… unless my stats are playing tricks on me.
My blog is predominantly restaurant reviews but on occasion I’ll post about other foodie related things, like my recent trip to Carter Mountain…
This has become my Fall Sanctuary.
Virginians flock every Autumn weekend to this mini-mountain. By afternoon, Carter Mountain swarms with hip locals and awkward [overexcited] suburbanites; a hodgepodge of personalities that could easily inspire a SNL skit.
The joy of picking apples is like finding gold. Children run through the orchards grabbing un-ripe green apples and yanking them from trees. Little do they know the apples they’ve picked will make their little mouths pucker with overwhelming bitterness. Their jaded joy and silliness makes it A-ok.
Adults elicit more excitement and determination than the kids. Personally, I can’t resist smiling when I’ve found a perfect red, ripe apple. I even adore the sound of the snap when it’s plucked from a branch. Simple sounds like this can make the soul satisfied.
My lady and I failed to remember that trudging through the orchard is comparable to a mini-hike. We were quickly reminded when her Toms and my un-broken-in cowboy boots became uncomfortable.
We picked around 25 apples (Staymans and Winesaps), grabbed a few jars of apple butter, a dry apple crisp mix, and half a dozen apple cider donuts. We grabbed an early dinner in the downtown mall and headed home. After getting back to our casa, I immediately gravitated towards the kitchen to put my freshly picked apples to work. Apple Pie, baby.
Here’s the recipe I used, it was a little simple so I snazzed it up a little…
Guilty…refrigerated pie crusts 1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 cup unsalted buttah 1 tbsp ground cinnamon
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour 1 tbsp Mexican Vanilla
1/2 cup white sugar 8 Apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
1/2 cup brown sugar 1 egg
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Melt butter in a saucepan. Stir in flour to form a paste. Add water, white sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and bring to a boil. Reduce temperature and let simmer.
2. Place the bottom crust in your pan. Fill with apples, mounded slightly. Cover with other pie crust pinching the edges, if you’re feeling real fancy pants, try a lattice work crust. Gently pour the sugar and butter liquid over the crust. Pour slowly so that it does not run off.
3. Bake 15 minutes in the preheated oven. Reduce the temperature to 350 degrees F, brush pie pastry with beaten egg (sometimes I mix with a little milk and sugar). Wrap foil around edges to prevent crumbly burnt outer crust. Continue baking for 35 to 45 minutes, until apples are soft.
4. Let sit and cool until you can’t take it anymore. Slice, share, and enjoy.
In true Julia Child fashion, Bon Appetit.