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Giveaway: Taste of the World

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Congrats to Kelly H. for winning the pair of tickets to the Taste of the World event! Message me your mailing address so your tickets can be mailed to you!

I have always wanted a Round The World plane ticket.

We have a family friend in Connecticut who was gifted one of these tickets after graduation. He spent months traveling in one direction around the globe… working on farms in New Zealand and exploring European towns.

He showed up one day in Hartford and called his mom, asking if she had time to pick him up.

The wanderlust in me is always thinking about a dynamite trip, and the RTW ticket is one of the highest status symbols among travel junkies.

But they’re pricey.

And that’s where food comes in.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is hosting its 10th annual Taste of the World event on Saturday, November 9 at 7:30 pm at Newport Aquarium.

A destination event for local foodies, this event will serve up some of the best bites in the region from restaurants including Stone Creek Dining Company, Taste of Belgium and Pit to Plate. Guests will also enjoy libations from the city’s most accomplished mixologist Molly Wellmann, as well as beverages from partners including Four Roses Distillery, Cutting Edge Selection and Chas. Seligman.

Around 700 people are expected to enjoy event details like club-style seating to soak up Cincinnati’s skyline, live music and of course the wonderful underwater world of Newport Aquarium.

This event is a great substitute for those of you itching for a jaunt to somewhere far.

Tickets are $150 per person, and a portion of that ticket price goes to support the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Leukemia runs in my family and I am happy to promote a cause that is helping people with blood cancer.

Interested in going? I’m giving away a pair of tickets to the event. You have two ways to enter:

  • Leave a comment below telling me about your favorite animal at the Aquarium
  • Re-tweet this blog post and cc: me in your tweet (@kate_the_great)

If you leave a comment, please be sure I have a way to reply to you – either a registered profile with an email address, or an email address in your comment.

The contest will close at noon on Friday, November 1; I will randomly select a winner shortly thereafter.

Good luck and I hope to see you at Taste of the World!

Are You Pleased?

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Who makes you happy?

I mulled on that question while dining in Over-the-Rhine. I heard a server approach a table with a genteel inquiry: “Are you pleased?”

A former server with seven years of schlepping plates and glasses under my belt, I immediately recognized that I’d never used those words while serving a table.

I’d asked before, Can I get you anything else? Do you need anything? How is your meal? and a variety of other vernacular meant to accommodate my diners’ whimsy. But never Are you pleased?

The phrase underscores the intent of a server’s job; as a server, you are hired to make someone happy. Whether they want heaps of crushed ice delivered every fifteen minutes, or their steak cut before it arrives at the table, a server’s job is to see to it every need and want is met with pleasure.

It’s a vocation of complete selflessness, and I think most servers forget that.

I started thinking about that expression, Are you pleased?, and my train of thought expanded it to many relationships.

Our closest relationships – maybe our best relationships – excel when we put the other individual ahead of our own needs or wants. It’s when we look at relationships as an opportunity of personal gain that dynamics get dicey.

This is not to say that the best relationships expect us to live in servitude to others, but rather that a perpetual state of mutual giving is the greatest way to grow a relationship.

Adam Grant appeared as the keynote speaker at this year’s Bold Fusion event in August. The youngest-ever professor at Wharton, Grant has written a book describing how the most successful people in life are givers, not takers. Give and Take uncovers the dynamics of Givers vs. Takers, and also Matchers, who strive to match giving and taking behaviors.

The book focuses on these exchanges in a professional capacity, but it’s important to think about these behaviors in a personal scope, too.

Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to be selfless. We’re forced to put everything out there, think about another person’s needs, and make the effort to meet those needs before our own, if we can.

Looking back on my relationships, the ones based on selflessness are the strongest. The connections that involved a level of reciprocity haven’t lasted as long or maintain diminished bonds.

But I know I could do better.

Like the server at Zula, I need to start approaching my friends and family with a sense of service, a goal of making someone feel happy and complete.

Are you pleased?

Happy Ending

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Everything happens as it should.

When life serves up a difficult experience, we can forget it is bound to end sometime.

Getting out of the thick of difficulty doesn’t just happen. It takes determination, commitment and a lot of effort to make it to the other side. And all that hard work usually happens simultaneously with feelings of self-doubt, insecurity and defeat. That’s when your dearest friends come into play.

And sometimes those dearest friends are people you wouldn’t expect.

Losing a job can be a major shock to the system, and I am grateful I spent only seven weeks in that nebulous, income-less limbo.

Three weeks ago I started a new gig – an amazing opportunity with tremendous growth potential and exciting challenges.

The job brings with it a generous raise, an extra week of vacation and a talented and kind group of colleagues. They are experts in an exciting industry that perfectly gels with my personal priorities.

And none of this would have been possible if I hadn’t lost my job.

Like I said. Everything happens as it should.

So, some of you might wonder – how exactly did I land a gig seven weeks after a layoff? The act of finding a job became my full-time gig. Here’s my short list of suggestions to find your next opportunity.

1. Every day, schedule a meeting with a business connection or personal contact. Initially a reason for me to get out of bed and talk business, my daily meetings ensured my personal network was actively helping me – connecting me to job leads, mentioning me to third-party contacts, and otherwise remembering me as an available and eager job candidate. Every weekday of my unemployment I had a phone call, coffee meeting, lunch or happy hour scheduled to suss out hot job leads and glean suggestions from others who had been in my shoes once before.

2. Seek out recruiters – they are incredibly helpful. I worked with two different recruiters, both of whom turned up solid leads that led to interviews, including the position I eventually accepted. Recruiters are good at determining what kind of person you are and which kind of job would best suit your skills and natural talents. I am very grateful for Shari at Professional Staffing Solutions for leading me to my new gig. She was engaging, optimistic and very encouraging – just what you need when you’re trying to put your best foot forward amidst worries about paying rent and buying groceries.

3. There is some truth to the whole fake it ’til you make it philosophy. I didn’t feel awesome, but I tried my best to look like it. Whether I was sitting in Coffee Emporium or on the terrace at Via Vite, I did my best to look like I had it pulled together. You never know who you’ll run into – a potential employer or influential business contact – and I wanted to make sure at least my outward appearance would sell my employ-ability.

4. Accept every job interview. Even when I was unsure of my interest in an opportunity, I knew the experience would be good practice and help me determine what I wanted out of my next position. The interaction with a potential hire helps you craft your elevator pitch – in 30-second, two minute, five minute and 20 minute bites. What skills do you have? What are some of your greatest experiences? What challenges have you overcome? What gets you excited? Each meeting helps you develop your professional narrative.

No matter your plan of action, stick with it and stay positive. Your outlook on the opportunities ahead far outweighs the frustration or despair you feel while coping with unemployment.

And it will all work out. Promise.

Fake It Until You Make It

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Looks can sometimes be deceiving.

The executive who looks like she stepped out of a fashion catalog. The actor crossing a stage with swag and confidence. The volunteer running a boardroom meeting like a boss.

Sometimes there’s well more working behind the scenes, but in many cases, these people have learned the carefully crafted art of perception.

The day after I lost my job, my parents both tag-teamed a phone call intended to pump me up with vim and vinegar. My dad, a retired marketing executive himself, detailed a litany of skills that make me valuable to my next employer. My mother, while she has no official PR or marketing experience of her own, offered what could be one of the most valuable points I’ve heard in recent weeks:

“Don’t leave the house unless you look like a million bucks.”

She went on to offer that my hair should be perfectly coiffed, my makeup well applied. I should forgo the yoga pants-and-tank tops uniform for a wardrobe that implies my professional stature.

I initially dismissed it. What does it matter how I look? What a superficial premise, I quipped. But then my mother reasoned a valuable point about appearance. Whether we like it or not, our outward appearance speaks volumes about what’s happening inside us.

And while inside I might vacillate between abject devastation and unwavering confidence, the world only needs to see me happy, optimistic and eager.

Make no mistake about it, I am excited about my future. This unexpected vacancy has made me available for unknown opportunities and rich experience.

And those unknown opportunities may not reveal themselves if I’m in a perpetual state of slovenly sweats and greasy hair.

I have taken my mother’s advice to heart. That in itself is practically a miracle.

With the exception of my almost-religious morning exercise routine, I’ve made an effort to fix my hair and belabor the finer points of eye makeup. Call it trivial if you will, but there’s something valuable about going through the paces of normalcy.

Months ago I changed the home screen of my iPhone to an old Elizabeth Taylor quote. The Hollywood grand dame once said, “Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.” There’s something to be said about gathering your druthers to change your disposition.

Marketing is sometimes all smoke and mirrors. A company jockeys to appear larger or more successful than they really are. A professional spins yarns of thought leadership to develop a position of expertise.

Every company is working to change perceptions and cultivate new opportunities of success.

The same goes for regular folks.

We’re each developing our personal brand, whether we want to admit it or not.

As much as we may protest, the photos we post on Facebook and the missives we Tweet can sometimes speak louder about our personal brand than a face-to-face interaction.

And so I am working to cultivate a personal brand that projects optimism, creativity, determination, adventure and curiosity.

I guess that rules out sweats.

Here’s to lipstick and cocktails and Elizabeth Taylor.

Belly Up

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The Middle East is a study in contradictions.

Many women are covered to the hilt in black, their faces and forms obscured from anyone who falls outside of the family unit.

Modesty is a way of life in this culture, so it is a bit jarring when you get a chance to see an Arabian belly dancer.

A few months ago I mentioned our exciting desert safari through the dunes outside of Dubai. After our trek in the armored truck, we made our way to an Arab oasis for a rustic Middle Eastern barbecue.

Our hosts invited us to the compound for savory grilled kababs, camel rides, and other entertainment typical of the arid locale.

The camel ride was fun, but the dismount left a bit to be desired.

When the camel wrangler tells you to hold on to the harness, you hold on to the harness. I didn’t think about it ahead of time, but apparently camels have to kneel to let its passengers dismount.

We held on and didn’t fall off, but I cannot guarantee I dismounted with grace.

After our delicious dinner of grilled meats, couscous salads, and a variety of savory vegetables and freshly sliced fruits, we were treated to two performances, the first involving a whirling dervish.

This dance is a form of meditation that can be found in many Middle Eastern and Asian cultures. It is mesmerizing. Just a few minutes in to the dance, I thought the performer was going to draw me into his trance.

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The dancer wore layers and layers of colorful skirts that would spin as he revolved around the dance platform. As he danced, the performer would peel off his skirts, layer by layer, and twirl them in the air above.

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The performance led to an unexpected and very lively light show of sorts.

After the whirling dervish, the audience was treated to a performance by a traditional Arabian belly dancer.

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I could only hope to have a few of these moves.

There are several companies in Dubai that offer these desert safari and barbeque packages. We enjoyed the services of Desert Safari Dubai.

Should you embark on your own Arabian adventure, may I suggest wearing pants and comfortable walking shoes! A skirt would not do well on the camel ride, and stilettos would not do well in the dunes.

You Got to Have Friends

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Life seems like a test sometimes.

Let’s put aside religion and philosophy for a moment; let’s table the heavy stuff and only think about this existence.

I know. It’s a simplification of sorts – only thinking about our time on this big, blue and green marble for a minute, and not considering what comes next. For now, let’s only explore this moment. This 70-to-100-year instance.

Life. It’s pretty damn hard.

It was good when I was young, and I know that in itself was a gift. While other people elsewhere were dealing with abuse and loss and genocide in the world all over, I was worried about Laffy Taffy. That was what I wanted at the swim club, and it was an outright heartbreak when my mom wouldn’t give me any money to buy candy at the pool snack shack.

My childhood was good.

But age has a way of a revealing depth and perspective. I got my first taste of reality in my 20s; I learned that hard times come and, while we may sometimes rely on the support of loved ones, it’s with our own volition that we discover how to survive the hard times.

All these years later, not much has changed.

I have loved ones who have buried children, severed ties with dear relations. Friends who have tragically lost partners and those who have weathered shocking and very public heartbreaks. I’ve seen relationships end and people fall at the mercy of public and social scrutiny.

We’re all the same, really.

Each of us is trying to get by with what we have. Each of us is trying to find some meaning to this existence and a few people with whom we can share the journey.

Like I said. Life is pretty damn hard.

When these hardships happen – when we suffer trials and tribulations, moments of self doubt and moments of bitter challenge – it is a blessing and a curse of reveal. People unveil who they really are. Friends display their truest selves in the hardest moments. Acquaintances forsake a long connection. But others join us to walk along and offer love and encouragement.

It’s unfortunate that we have the opportunity to discover our relations’ truest selves when we fall on hard times. The phone calls that aren’t accepted. The invitations that are never extended. The parties that intend to exclude.

It’s easy to forget the rough stuff.

During our best of times, it’s simple to ignore life’s hardest challenges. We grow complacent and comfortable with being, and we avoid murky entanglements that would force us to feel, sticky encounters that would require depth.

Job loss. Divorce. Grief. Failure. There are so many reasons why the living wounded walk among us. And yet, during life’s high times, we all seem to forget we’re sharing a collective experience.

As a PR professional, I know moments of crisis are not an if, but a when.

And it’s in those darkest personal moments, the hardest times of challenge, when we discover our truest friends.

Friends are the ones who stand by us, include us, love us and accept us.

It’s easy to cast judgment. It’s easy to draw lines in the sand and separate ourselves from challenge or drama or complication.

It’s hard to be loyal.

It’s hard to be a friend.

But it is sometimes the greatest gift we can give someone.

Try as we might, we cannot survive this experience, this life, without others. No matter how strong we may be, we each need some support or camaraderie.

We each need a friend. Maybe a few of ’em.

I’m so grateful for mine.

Something To Look Forward To

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We all need a golden carrot from time to time.

Travel tends to be my golden carrot – the thing that hangs off in the distance, a rich experience that is just sweet enough to convince me to plod along with head down and heavy yoke.

I know I am not alone in this perspective.

The past month has been quite serendipitous; the weekend after I lost my job I jetted off to Southern California with one of my dearest friends. The trip was just what the doctor ordered – R&R, sunshine, and poolside beverage service.

It was better than any medicine.

Two weeks later I hopped back on a plane to head south to Atlanta to see my two Georgia peaches. Nora and Liam, my niece and nephew, celebrate birthdays during the same week in August. A Four-and-two joint birthday party beckoned, complete with a wild and woolly petting zoo and pony rides in the cul-de-sac.

Again, a perfect respite to wash away my worries. Nora and I talked about my globetrotting adventures (aside: I had no idea four-year-olds can hold their own with critical questioning and curiosity aplenty) and Liam was reminded why he often says, “Kay Kay fun.” He’s typically the strong, silent type but has the stunning looks to go with it.

This coming weekend gives rise to more travel. Scott and I are hitting the road with our sights set on Pittsburgh.

Well more different than our last trek to Dubai and Bangkok, I’m excited for another opportunity to get out of dodge and dwell on the distraction of travel.

I’ve gathered a short list of things to explore in Pittsburgh – the Warhol museum, the Mattress Factory Art Museum (thank you for the suggestion, Margy Waller!), the Frick Art and Historical Center, the Duquesne incline and Primanti Bros.

Ever the planner, the time I spend researching a trip is sometimes a greater distraction than the adventure itself. It gives me something to look forward to, something to lose myself in, something to focus on that’s positive.

And sometimes that’s all we need to keep going – a distraction from what’s distracting us.

Seeing Shiva

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You find yourself with quite a bit of free time when you lose your job.

That was my first discovery after surviving a downsizing two weeks ago. Whereas my time used to be counted by green, gridded logs of billable hours, these days I count time by filling washing machines and emptying dishwashers, running miles along the Ohio riverfront, and making coffee dates and cocktail catch-ups with good friends and business contacts.

Some of it is quite nice, to be sure, but it isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

I have always enjoyed hard work.

From my days of hauling sticky, dripping bus pans to running breaking news situations in a broadcast control room – I have always relished the task of tough labor.

I like the pressure, I like the challenge. I like the opportunity to conquer an obstacle.

I gave a lot to my most recent post. Long hours, personal sacrifices, thoughtful strategy and execution. But each of us are replaceable, and I found myself in a place of replacing.

As unexpected as it was, I should have known better.

The day after the layoff, my dearest friends bandied about and insisted on an evening of celebration.

Bottles popped and glasses raised, I found myself surrounded by some of the most successful women of my age. A publishing strategist, a pharma saleswoman, an attorney/entrepreneur, a published photographer.

These women have received countless professional accolades and have the hardware to prove it. They’ve been covered in national and local publications. They are trusted sources for professional and community-based information.

These women are rock stars.

And yet, I was surprised to discover that every single one of them had been laid off once before.

Each woman said her moment of termination led to an opportunity for growth and greatness. Yours will too, they told me, as we clinked champagne flutes to toast new beginnings.

Two years ago I went to India. It was a life-changing journey that opened me up to many new perspectives, including an introduction to the Hindu god, Shiva.

Portrayed in a several traditional forms, one of the more popular symbols of Shiva involves a human figure with four or more arms. The Cincinnati Art Museum has a great sculpture of Shiva just beyond the main entrance, cloaked behind some black nylon fringe. It’s a muscular form and a beautiful example of the statues you’d see in New Delhi and elsewhere.

So, Shiva. In the Hindu faith, Shiva is a paradoxical deity. He is both the god of destruction and rebirth.  Shiva is typically seen holding a variety of symbolic objects including an hourglass-drum and a tongue of flames. The fiery symbol references the destruction of the world. The hourglass-drum symbolizes creation and the unfolding universe.

Destruction and rebirth. Like the phoenix of Greek mythology, Shiva reminds us we can become a newer, better version of ourselves when we rise from the ashes of our destruction.

A bit heavy, but it’s a philosophy that resonates with me.

We can’t be our next self, we can’t discover new opportunities and challenges, until we close a door on the past. Sometimes that change is our own doing, other times it’s not.

As with every other moment of my past, I’m grateful for what has transpired thus far. I’ve learned a lot, I’ve discovered new interests and talents. I’ve met some wonderful people.

But I’m excited about what tomorrow brings.

I’m excited about the universe unfolding before me.

Lobster Boil: A Lesson

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We are Midwesterners.

By birth, I am a Southerner, but I was predominantly raised in the Midwest. My parents are both Midwest stock – my dad’s family settled in Youngstown a few generations ago, but they first lived in the Pittsburgh area when they arrived from Ireland and England.

My mother’s family has lived in Duluth, Minnesota for generations, but our roots go far back to Indiana (before arriving from Germany and Austria).

Middle America runs in our blood, but we were lucky to get a 14 year trip to New England beginning my sophomore year in high school.

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In Connecticut, they call it the Long Island Sound. It’s not really the ocean, they say. To us it was. That big, beautiful expanse of water lapped up at the end of our street, and we were smitten the first time we laid eyes on it.

New England – made up of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut – revels in a different kind of lifestyle. Relaxed preppy leanings and celebrations that choose simplicity over flash.

Good, bad or indifferent, that describes my family to a T.

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A few years ago, my mother informed me she was doing away with all the holidays. My sister in Atlanta inherited Christmas because she has children; my youngest sister in Columbus inherited Thanksgiving because she and her boyfriend would be able to handle such a daunting event together.

I inherited the annual lobster boil.

None of us live in New England any longer. We’ve returned to the Midwest to enjoy a more comfortable standard of living and everyday exchanges of please and thank-you.

But we still love our seafood.

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My parents, my sister, her boyfriend and Scott all came over for our annual summer tradition, my parents bringing along ten feisty lobsters and two pounds of mussels (a family favorite). My dad picks up his lobsters from Lobsta Bakes in Newtown, where the owner receives shipments daily from his family’s business in Maine.

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The evening is one of my favorites of the summer. We each show up wearing our rattiest T-shirt and enjoy an evening of good food, vinho verde, conversation and great laughs.

This year’s dinner was especially raucous thanks to a game of Cards Against Humanity. My parents are pretty cool for their ability to roll with the racy innuendo.

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I am surprised by how many Midwesterners are intimidated by Connecticut’s favorite crustacean. Lobster can be a bit daunting; unless you hunt regularly, you likely don’t have as much involvement in your meal’s end days.

Formerly a poor man’s meal, lobster is quite delicious and has long been a New England tradition in part because of their availability in that part of the U.S.

To prepare lobster, fill a large stock pot half full of water. Add a tablespoon of sea salt. Bring the pot to a rolling boil (this will take some time).

After the pot begins to boil, drop in all of your lobsters and let them sit in their sauna for 20 minutes or so.

A note about the lobsters. They don’t scream. They don’t have vocal cords. The squeaks you hear are made by air passing through the shells. If that makes you feel any better about preparing your meal, so be it.

Once your lobster is cooked, prepare to dig in. This will feel a little bit like high school biology.

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You’ll need a few standard tools: A pick. Some sets just have a pick with a pointy, needle-like end; I prefer the kind that has a sort of shovel on one end, and a pitchfork on the other end (below left). These two ends will come in handy later.

Next, a cracker. Some people use crackers that double as metal nutcrackers. I like my crackers because they can grip lobster parts very well. It’s up to your preference and availability.

Finally, you’ll need a knife. Steak knife, carving knife or Swiss Army – you need whatever makes you feel like a kitchen surgeon.

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I first start with the claws. Pull the claw off the lobster’s body and remove the rubber bands. Using some pressure, pull off the lobster’s “thumb.”

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Take your pick and dig around in the thumb (I use the scoop end of the pick for this task) – there’s a nice piece of meat in there.

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Next, take your cracker and go to town on breaking the claw. There’s no rhyme or reason on this one – you’ll be eating whatever you pull out, whether you can pull the claw meat out in one piece or not.

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You’ll be left with the lobster’s arm; use your cracker to break up the shell, and then use your pick (the pitch fork end) to dig around and pull out your meat. Every joint has a bite of goodness.

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After you’re finished enjoying the claw, get ready to tackle the tail. First, use your hands to twist the tail off. Put the body aside – you’ll want that later.

At this point, I should mention lobster roe. Pictured below on the right, you’ll notice a dark red substance in the middle of the lobster’s body. That is lobster roe. Ranging between black and Play Doh red, roe is a waxy substance made of lobster eggs. Most people don’t eat it. Andrew Zimmern does, if that gives you some perspective.

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Okay. Lobster tail. This is when you’ll need your knife. Use one hand to hold the tail (its curved shape can make it a bit difficult to cut), and use the other to guide your blade down the length of the inside of the tail.

This reminds me of the fetal pig, the frog and everything else about biology class.

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Once you’ve cut your way down the inside of the tail, use some muscle to pull the shell off from around the meat.

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This is when most people cash in and call it a night. Not so in New England.

There’s still plenty of meat to be had.

Pull the top of the lobster’s body off and get ready to dig in.

You’ll notice some greenish, guacamole-looking stuff. That’s called the tomalley. Again, Andrew Zimmern loves this stuff, but it’s not my style.

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After you remove the top, you’ll notice the legs are attached to a mass of meat and shell.

Using your fingers, pull apart the shell and look for lumps of lobster meat. You can count on finding some sizable chunks at the base of each leg. Go from joint to joint and savor every last morsel.

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Now, the legs might be the best way to separate a New Englander from everyone else.

Most people would leave the legs behind, but a New Englander knows there are strips of delicious lobster meat in each leg.

Rip apart the leg until you have a good portion disconnected at the joints. Putting the leg in your mouth,  rapidly bite down on it like you’d bite on a straw, and pull the meat out as you pull the leg shell out between your teeth.

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Lobster is a delicious summer tradition that can be enjoyed with simple sides – boiled ears of corn and red potatoes are quite popular.

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When we enjoyed this meal in Connecticut, we’d typically cover our patio table with newspaper and pitch everything at the end of the night. A lobster dinner is pretty messy – hence the ratty T-shirts.

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And that’s why God invented cleaning sprays and paper towels.

We finished the meal with slices of lemon blueberry cake from the BonBonerie and sips of my homemade limoncello.

A spectacular finish to another successful family tradition.

Those are the moments that count.

It’s the Wurst. Really.

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Cincinnati is in love with its sausage.
From the homemade links at Avril Bleh to Bockfest’s much heralded Sausage Queen competition, the Queen City is infatuated with its wieners and franks.
We strolled down Linwood to this new gastropub a few weeks ago a few days after its opening last month. A cozy spot with high top tables and wood paneled walls, the Wurst Bar is one of the best things going in Mount Lookout.
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A mix of great cocktails, inventive sausages and hot dogs, and other delicious offerings, the Wurst Bar brings handcrafted offerings to a neighborhood that needed a new shiny on the strip.
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We split:

  • The All Time Wurst Burger – a blend of veal and ground beef stuffed with cheddar wurst, topped with onion straws, tangy mustard, American and cheddar cheeses atop a pretzel roll
  • The Roonie – chicken, garlic and truffle sausage topped with fried onions and Boursin cheese
  • Vinegar-based homemade cole slaw
  • Traditional French fries
The Wurst Burger was absolutely out of this world – it was prepared beautifully and packed an assortment of zippy and sweet flavors.
The Roonie was also a great choice; how can you go wrong with anything boasting truffles and Boursin cheese?
The cole slaw was a colorful blend of thick strips of white and purple cabbage. Homemade and a nice, light choice to balance the meal’s heaviness.
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The Wurst Bar does a great job of blending traditional German flavors with trendier ingredients and handcrafted techniques. Seating is limited; the space is small and cozy and the epitome of that German feeling of gemutlicheit.

Details:
The Wurst Bar in the Square
3204 Linwood Ave.
(513) 321-0605
Hours vary: Dinner seven says a week, lunch Thursday – Sunday

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