All Things Foodie

On a recent trip to Chicago, IL I wanted to see how I would fare with dining out while maintaining a Paleo diet as much as possible.  I decided to provide a mini review of a few places that we ate at to show the Paleo choices and challenges that we encountered in hopes of helping others to make it easier to find Paleo friendly food as well. Day 1:  Hartford to Chicago The trip started off at Bradley International Airport in Hartford, CT.  Ah, my first meal challenge on the road.  As with most airports I've been in, there is the usual line up of fast food joints and then the possibility of getting a salad either to go or dine in a restaurant.  The thought flitted across my mind t just say the heck with it and just eat what I wanted for the next few days since we were on vacation.  Like vacation gives me a Paleo free pass or something.... Instead, I managed to actually order something that was as close to Paleo as I could.  At the Black Bear Restaurant  I chose the Wedge Salad.  

312 Chicago Italian Restaurant in Chicago, IL.  It's an italian restaurant in downtown Chicago that I found when searching for a Paleo meal to enjoy while on vacation.  Normally you would not think of an Italian restaurant as a go to choice for a Paleo meal but this one seemed to fit.  I read that it had organic foods, and gluten free items on the menu.  With our love of Italian food and the fact that it had a few items that might fit for both of us we gave it a try. Here are a few of the items we enjoyed:  First, the appetizer.  My husband loves octopus and usually gets some kind of ceviche or seafood mix for an appetizer so this one worked well.  Grilled Octopus with shrimp and assorted vegetables.  He loved it.  So that was his paleo non dairy choice.  Next, my appetizer was one of my favorites and if it's on the menu I usually get it.  Here's the beef carpaccio.  Nice chilled slices of rare beef with some capers, arugula and thin slices of fresh mushrooms top

Bread baking and cooking and eating many gluten foods are deeply steeped in cultures and rituals of family, food, memories, and love.   I grew up waking up to the smell of freshly baked bread every Sunday morning when I stayed over at my Grandmother Bentley's house.  On Saturday night after she got out of work from the night shift at the convalescent home she worked at, she would start the bread dough.  By early morning after it had risen all night long there would be bowls of yeasty smelling bread dough ready to knead by hand and put into the bread loaf pans.  The smell  wafting out of the oven  of those freshly baked loaves of bread and the ensuing taste of warm buttered bread slices is one of my favorite foodie memories.   Alas, my Grandmother's bread may have been the devil at the root of her diseases.    Both of my Grandmother's hands and fingers were horribly disfigured from arthritis. She  and other family members led me to believe it was caused from