Take a Bite Of: Mini Frittatas

Your soon to be favorite breakfast guest. Oh, you say you want something pretty to serve but easy to make for today, or Sunday Brunch, or the baby shower you are throwing next month? Here is a great option for your menu. These mini frittatas are delicious, simple, and look fantastic. This recipe will make 40 but cut it in half if you want. The Italian Chef of Inspiration Giada is to thank for this one. Buon Appetito!

Mini Frittatas
Spray two mini muffin pan with nonstick spray ( I use butter flavor for these types of breakfast items). Preheat oven to 375.

Mix 8 eggs
1/2 c. milk
1/2 t. fresh ground pepper
1/4 t. salt
4 oz thinly sliced ham, chopped
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan
2 T. fresh chopped basil

Whisk eggs, milk, pepper, salt to blend. Stir in ham, cheese, and basil. Fill prepared muffin cups almost to top (use a ladle, makes it very easy). Bake until egg mixture puffs and is just set in center about 8 - 10 minutes. Use a rubber spatula to loosen the frittatas and slide onto a platter. Serve immediately.

*You can also use cheddar or mozzarella in place of Parmesan. You can also add chopped tomato to add some color.

Absolutely yum.

The ReEducation of Grammy

Oh, to be a grandma. All the fun of having a kid, and not nearly the same kind of work. Would grandma ever make a grandson sit at the table until he ate his peas? No. Would grandma ever refuse to go to the park because grandson didn't clean up his toys? No. Would grandma ever even consider grandson not being able to do what he wants because he told a little white lie? Of course not. Would grandma make her little grandson miss his 9th grade dance because he accidentally got a ride to school with an older kid when apparently he was told he could not? She wouldn't dream of it.


I think we all see the pattern.

We are so lucky with the bevy of grandparents our son acquired. They are filled with a buoyancy by the mere mention of his name and would see him everyday if they could. He even has great-grandparents which is a rare and fantastic part of his history. My grandparents had all passed by the time I was an adolescent so I don't reminisce the same way JohnnyMac does about being a little boy and him and his brother climbing out the window after bed time to wander across the field to hang out with their grandparents. Sneaking out to watch the Late Show with Grandma? I love it.

Since we had our son in our mid 30's, its been awhile since our parents had to be caught up on all the new tips, techniques, and safety requirements for babies. I will say they adapt quickly and look at the process as we do: a learning experience that takes some adjustments. However, a few funny things have happened along the way.

First, we are new at this and everyday we learn something we didn't know before. It is not always easy to share the knowledge with other grown adults, especially our moms who have raised more kids between them then we ever will. Sometimes it is like riding a bike, but sometimes it is not.


We do love that they ask us now if they can buy him certain things prior to purchase. And I don't mean a book, more like the motorized golf cart in our garage built specifically for pint size up and comers. He is loved loved loved that is for sure, but it does not mean there have not been some hilarious mishaps.


Let's tell a story. We flew to Arizona one weekend when our baby was seven months old to meet up with my mom. It was a great midway point and a surprise for me and my mom by JohnnyMac.


My mom was thrilled and wanted to have baby sleep in her room so we could get some sound sleep. One morning, my mom knocked and said she would feed munchkin his breakfast. He was in a high chair and I had his food all ready to go. I gave my mom the warning not to get the bowl of cereal too close to him because he was a grabber. She gave me this look, and oh what a precious look it was, and said "Honey, I did raise three children." Can't argue with that! So I left her room to get ready for the day.


Upon my return to her room, I wasn't quite sure what happened. I thought maybe a stratus cloud made entirely of cooled cereal had appeared and rained down on them both. My mom had cereal from hair to pedicure. I surveyed the damage from a safe distance before asking what happened. She said, "He grabbed the bowl.....and the spoon."


Oh, I laughed but I promise you, I was laughing with her.


And once, on a visit to Seattle, my mom was feeding little man in the kitchen. He was older and much more agile. And as she gave him his buttered toast, in all its cute little cut up squares, she decided that she would share some with the dog who was parked underfoot with hopeful eyes and licking her doggie chops. As my mom is cascading piece after piece of toast to her dog, Josie, I smile and tell her that is probably not a good idea. She looked at me, puzzled. And two seconds later, our son is hurtling down pieces of toast "JOSIE EAT TOAST!!!!!!" I saw the light bulb over my mom's head, believe me.


And we laughed. Lessons learned, on a sometimes daily basis.


And she knows that she is a fantastic grandmother no matter what, and she knows it takes a little reeducation sometimes. At least she never got peed on which is more than I can say for our son's parents.

I bet you think this song is about you

Long locks and shiny white dress. Formidable bangs and even white hose. What's not to emulate? Goodness. Sometimes a picture should not be worth a thousand words. And let's be candid, I assure you there was a time when I was proud of this picture, what with all of its close parallels to high fashion. Do you see me slouching? Oh no. I am head up, shoulders back. And that elbow so daintily laid on that banister. Very 80's chic. And do you know why I was proud? Because I was vain. I admit it. I probably loved this little photo for a brief time in history. Vanity, one of the seven deadly sins...

But I don't infer its over the top vanity like putting a mirror up at my desk so I can gaze into my own eyes ( I knew someone who did this...and no I am not lying) nor am I talking about the religious slant on vanity in which you believe you come before all others. Not a peacock, nor a narcissist; my vanity is mainly contained in one compartment: Le Photos.

Who has not wanted to look good in a photo? Who has not wanted to banish all unflattering photos to the deepest concaves of the closet? Who has not taken that one fabulous picture and used it for all personal publicity needs? I raise my hand to all three. Oh, come on, this is ringing a bell (or two).

While I admit to a speck or two of vanity in my time, who hasn't been afflicted? Back in the day, instant visibility to photos was not an option. You had to have that roll of film properly processed. With the dawn of the digital age came the instant fix.

Haven't you noticed the minute you snap that photo now on your digital camara, if there are actual bodies in that pic, you can't even say cheese before your comrades are huddled around wanting to review. And really, are they looking for group harmony? How the backdrop turned out? Fun embodied on a tiny screen? No. They are looking at themselves to determine whether or not it is a good picture. And deciding if you have their approval to keep it. I have a friend who must look at the photo taken immediately AND if said photo does not pass the litany of criteria, same friend will request (demand) the photo is deleted. Regardless if every other person looks like they just shot the cover of Vogue.

And I love all the Frowners who resist and buckle under the simple request to get in a photo. Don't think for a second they are free from the allure of reviewing the very same photo they put up such a fight about taking in the first place. We all know one. The particular Frowner I have in mind is also the first one to ask me for copies of my photos.

Don't think you are vain? Not even a touch? Bravo. You are the only one who isn't. Ever looked at yourself in the mirror? Multiple times a day? Checked that lip gloss, not just to ensure you remained inside the lines but also to see if your pucker is as glossy as it possibly can be? Ever looked at your caboose in those new Seven Jeans? Watched yourself workout? Put your little photo up on Facebook? Hid a picture you thought was ugly?

See my momentum?

And we shouldn't be vain. But we are. It doesn't hurt us to want to look our best, especially in photos that will be passed and shared. And can be billboarded at our showers, weddings, or suprise birthday parties. However, if you have a photo of yourself, alone, as your screensaver, you need to tone it down. (Seen it.) If you have a vanity plate (period) but especially one that reads "2Cute4U" , stop it. (Seen it.) And if you trip over free weights on the gym floor because you are busy looking at yourself in the mirror, you are a jack ass. (Seen it and I think he was making puckerlips at his reflection. Egads.)

And if you have a large painting of yourself over a fireplace in your home, wearing some kind of long flowing nightgown, circa Falcon Crest, like some throwback chanteuse, I thank you because you just made me feel 1000 times better about my shiny white dress and pumps picture.

My morning commute

Ahhh, spring has sprung in Atlanta so the air is still clean and we have yet to be blanketed with the heinous pollen that turns our cars and road yellowish green. These mornings, I have the sun roof open, and music accompanies my morning commute. On this particular day, I am driving the munchkin to school. We are laughing and signing songs as we drive along. And then another morning commuter pulls in front of us so I am required to LOCK THEM UP as they say. I don't want to lay on brakes so heavily that locking them up is the only passageway out of an accident. And I certainly do not want to do that with my two year old in the car. And I certainly do not want to lock them up, with two year old in the car, when I can not express my displeasure through profanities because I have my two year old in the car. So I try to say, as under my breath as possible, "areyoukiddingme?".

To which, my son, with razorsharp hearing, says "are you kidding me Mommy!"

So my first objective: flip the switch on the PR machine and work on some spin. I said to our son, "Actually, do you know what we should say when we honk the horn? We should say, 'Hi Friend!'
Let's practice."

So for the next ten miles plus, whenever I could inconspicuously honk the horn (we were on side roads) I did and we practiced saying "Hi Friend!".

When I discussed above incident with JohnnyMac, I witnessed only the mildest alarm pass his face, but he did retort that he was relieved because it could have been so much worse. Interesting tactic JohnnyMac. I asked him if he thought it sounded nice to hear those words out of our son's mouth who was only eighteen months at the time. JohnnyMac held strong to the "could have been worse" response but he did agree, such words, from a baby, not so nice.

Now, I tried with all my might to say "Hi Friend" when I had a true opportunity to do so but I failed. I wanted to give my self a standing ovation for only saying "Are you kidding me" when one of my preferred phrases is these situations is "Are you (!*&^*!&% kidding me?!?!?!?!?") So, we are all culpable. I did however, quickly revert back to my "HI FRIEND" motto and we practiced that several times as we drove along. Mentally, reminding myself that I have to continue to work on patience and my wicked retorts.

And then, we pulled up to a light and my son asked me "What's that man doing?" So I looked in the direction he was pointing only to see a man, pale as bread flour sitting in the car next to us at the light. How do I know he was so pale? Because he was shirtless. And our windows were down. And his windows were down. So he looked over, and we looked back. And I didn't have a thing to say! So I told my son that man was enjoying his morning commute. My son asked "Where his shirt go?" Good question, buddy. So let's just wave and say "Hi Friend!"

Oh Humor, thank you for popping up on my morning commute. I know you are never far and I will continue to look for you everyday.

Music to my ears

When I was pregnant, I put headphones on my growing tummy and played music for my tiny tenant. Daily. I played a musical arc from violin to classic rock. The only songs off limits were the few Ludacris and DMX songs that made it onto my iPod back when I was a Solid Gold Dancer. Babies reportedly can sense rhythm and beat as early as three months. Even after he was born, I would play music while he was sleeping and sing to him constantly.

When our son was about sixteen or seventeen months, we drove down to the beach in Florida. Its a long haul for a little one who no longer sleeps 20 hours per day. He did nap, but then he woke up and all my singing wasn't entertaining him in the least. So, on a whim, JohnnyMac put our Jimmy Buffett Live In Anguilla DVD in. Our son was mesmerized. For hours.

We aren't a "TV as babysitter" type family and admittedly, I was following the AAP's recommendation kids under two have a sans television life. But, Jimmy Buffett on a beach in Anguilla captured all of his attention. And when we tried to turn it off, he asked for more. So we decided to let him watch it, and tell him who it was, what he was seeing, and sing along with the songs.

And an amazing thing happened that day. Our son became highly interested in music.

It initially started only when he would get in Daddy's car. He started to ask for Jimmy Buffett. By name. And then he started to ask for "fins to the left, fins to the right" and "treat her like a lady". This list grew as he knew more and more songs. We were astounded because he only watched the DVD in the car on his 20 minute ride to school or back home. One day he was sick and as I laid in our bed with him and he looked at me with those big eyes and croaked "Jimmy please."

I, in a moment of foresight, suggested we work some other DVDs into the mix as we had a vacation involving a long drive coming up AND who knows what would happen if the Jimmy DVD got misplaced. I started with Billy Joel's Millennium concert DVD. And our son was hooked. He knew Billy Joel so well within a month or two that I uploaded all of the songs onto my iPod because he wanted to hear them anytime he was in the car. And I love hearing him try to sing along. Don't think I don't love driving down the road singing "My Life" with my two year singing "not on myyyyy tiiiiiiiiime."

He knows every song by name and don't think you don't get called out if you play the wrong one. Once, I didn't have the iPod plugged in, and in my attempt to be tricky as Billy was being requested from the back seat...over and over again, I played Jackson Browne and told our son it was Billy Joel. He said " I don't like this song. That's not Billy!" I had it coming.

Don't get me wrong, I have been singing the Alphabet song, Itsy Bitsy Spider, Thumbkin, Twinkle Twinkle etc for two years. But I will gladly take Coldplay over one more rendition of Tootie Ta. (If you don't know Tootie Ta, it's because you do not have kids or work in a kid-related environment. Clap your hands for yourself that you have never heard it. After the 100th time, its about as fun as changing diapers. )

I have since introduced other musical greats into the repertoire. Some introductions were successful and some were not. He did let me declare every Thursday is "New Music Thursday. " We listen to new songs before he demands I play his other favorites. Even for me, Billy has a limitation. While Willie Nelson and Bruce Springsteen received a lukewarm reception ( I will work on this), our son loves the Beatles and the Beach Boys. He also likes "Fergalicious" so poor JohnnyMac had to put it on his iPod too.

But our son's interest in music is a beautiful beautiful thing. Uncle Donnie got him his first guitar and he carried it around with him for months. Do you know the attention span of wee people? Months translates to decades at that age. Our son graduated to a 9 piece drum pad, a real keyboard with microphone, and a real acoustic guitar for Christmas. And if Billy is on, he will play his guitar or his keyboard and try to imitate. His parents LOVE music and I hope my son embraces this interest for life.


And don't think for a minute Dance Party is left out. There will always be time for Dance Party.

Whistle while Wii work

Last year, reading Time's list of best new gadgets, I mentioned to JohnnyMac that I was highly interested in the Wii Fit. And when my birthday came, a lovely Wii Fit was beribboned and waiting for all of my attention. And I was quickly enamored with it. I put my little white balance board down and donated the time. What a fascinating toy! It measures BMI, weight, balance, and gives options for yoga, aerobics, balance games, and strength exercises. It charts your time, your effort, your score, your center of gravity. A virtual trainer all in the front room, and displayed perfectly on our big screen.

And then I took a break from Wii Fit because Guitar Hero came along, and then Wii tennis, bowling, music, and the Beach Sports package. Oh the choices! Plus, the weather in Atlanta is often on the sunny side so I go outdoors for my exercise in the spring, summer and fall.

Well. I spied the lonely Wii Fit several days ago and literally had to give it some kisses from the swiffer duster. Once I booted it up, I was welcomed back by my little Mii character. And then it announced how many days it had been since my last visit. UGH. I would have guessed its been a spell, but Wii Fit is all about precision. So 250+ days? Wow, little Wii, I have ignored you much longer than I had planned. So I had 30 minutes to spare on a rare day when I was home alone in the house and I dialed up the Wii Fit and started with the hula hoop challenge. I was inspired...look at me go! As I was whipping those hips around I smirked that I could ignore the Wii Fit for so long and then reappear back in its life and master such exercises with ease. Then I did some about 200 crunches and some yoga and was pleased I had worked up a sweat AND had racked enough time to "unlock" other exercises.

And then Wii Fit said bye bye to me with its pleasant little bell tones. And when I went to bed I should have listened because Wii Fit was laughing behind my back. The next morning my stomach muscles were paralyzed. Damn hula hoop! Damn crunches. Goodness. I liken myself an athlete and maybe should have known Wii Fit, while monitoring my heart rate, effort, and time was also capturing that smirk of mine as well. Wii Fit had the last laugh. And Wii Fit is all about accuracy so when you are asked to give your all, Wii Fit allows for no corner cutting. And that isnt the point right? You are only cheating yourself.

HOWEVER never before have I had a magic circle on the screen measuring my center of gravity and posting it for me at the end. And while doing a plank pose, the Wii loudly let me know "your core is a little shaky. Visit me everyday so we can work on your balance." Thanks Wii Fit, the visual chart was not enough so your verbal update helps me really focus.

So now I show Wii Fit the respect it deserves and am so glad we are back together. And now, let me get back to mastering that hula hoop.

Beware of the Phog

This is not a typical post, but I must pay my respect. Matters not if you are a basketball fan, March marks the sweet arrival of March Madness. If you are a University of Kansas alumni, often, NCAA men's basketball holds a special place in your heart, and holds your attention span from November to April. From the launch of Late Night ( a tradition kicking off the season) to the hopeful prayers your team can go the Big Dance, baskeball fans across the country treasure this time of year. And since today is the first game for the beloved Hawks, today is the day I pay public tribute.

Since the first season in 1898, Kansas Jayhawk fans stand in rapt attention as the season unfolds. With 37 Final Four tournament appearances, and 42 conference championships (including seven of the past ten years), when it comes to hope, we look to find a reason to believe.

Perhaps we feel we have a leg up on our competitors, since, after all, the inventor of the game of basketball was the very first men's basketball coach at KU. Or because we have had college legends both as players and as coaches. Or later when one of Naismith's players, Phog Allen, became coach, he would also be considered the architect of the modern NCAA tournament. Oh Kansas Basketball, its all in the bloodline baby.

The games we attended in school were incredible. Believe the hype. Although I never had to camp out or any of that required tradition for the underclassmen, I don't regret it. Love of the game or not, Id rather not spend the night in a hallway in a sleeping bag. But the games...they were incredible. And the seniors farewell game every year? Bring your kleenex. Watching giant men who are really young men say goodbye to a beloved sport in a town that holds them as heroes, was a moving part of the end of the season. The year Jacque Vaughn told 17,000 fans that if he became one tenth of the man Coach Roy Williams is then he will feel he truly succeeded was one of my all-time favorite sports moments.

Athletics teach people, especially kids, a number of important fundamentals of life like discipline, teamwork, and how to be a gracious winner and loser. What better place to learn it than Allen Fieldhouse.

Now let me tell you a fun story. One one of my mom's plethora of visits to see me during my tenure at the University of Kansas, she sat next to a nice gentleman on her trip from Seattle to the airport in Kansas City. All the while bragging on and on (and on and on) about her beloved daughter, and all my clever emails (can you blame her) and wonderful accomplishments. He said he too had a wonderful family and loved the University of Kansas. He also shared that he had deep lineage at KU and was particularly fond of the basketball program. When I asked her who he was, she couldn't quite recall. Then a lightbulb went off and she said, "oh, I think there is a building on campus named after his family, maybe his grandfather. Foghorn something..."

Yes, I chastised her for referring to Phog Allen as FOGHORN and was astounded that my love of sports clearly was clearly a patriarchal influence. The man on the plane? It was Phog Allen's grandson. Oh, I am quite positive the grandson of legendary Phog Allen for whom Allen Fieldhouse is named after was truly tickled by the nonstop monologue my mom shared with him of my precious little activities. That is like telling Al Gore's grandson you write a blog, when you know, Al Gore created the internet.

But I digress. Back to my love of the game. Now, I get a big thrill each year by participating in "the brackets" a fun-filled way to bet on the 64 teams who enter the NCAA tournament. Typically, someone I work with executes the pool and manages the process. All I have to do was pick my teams, and collect my winnings. I brag not, but I have participated in the tournament brackets for years, and I have won, multiple times. And one year I entered a pool at a friend's office and when I won, they wanted to revoke my cash money because A) I was not an employee B) I was the only non-engineer C) I was the only woman in the tournament pool.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.

They allowed me to win in title, but I dont believe I ever collected my handsome reward. And I will answer the same question now that I did the first several times I won, NO, my boyfriend did not pick my teams for me. And now, no, JohnnyMac does not pick my teams for me. Although, on a side note, he brought the heat down on me last year and advanced far beyond what I was able to accomplish, so never say never.

Teddy Roosevelt once said after hearing the haunting refrain of the Rock Chalk Jayhawk chant, that it was the greatest college chant he had ever heard. You better believe it.

Rockkkkkkkk Chalkkkkkkk Jayhawkkkkkkkkkk. Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

And our alma mater: Far above the golden valley, glorious to view, stands our noble alma mater, towering toward the blue. Hail to thee KU.

So here is to the best of luck for my favorite team, and I am hoping my success in the brackets pays dividends. ROCK CHALK!

First friends

Do you remember your first friends? I do. We all had them so don't be shy. That little furry pal or fuzzy blanket you kept with you daily or nightly until you were in, oh, third grade? Maybe sixth grade or even junior high for some of you. I had a little monkey I can clearly remember carrying daily to and from daycare. I also had a Talking Smokey the Bear who told me "We don't play with matches" when I pulled his string. Yes, it was lightyears preceding the technological age we live in now. Our animals talked when you pulled a string. And among numerous other toys, I also had a stuffed Winnie the Pooh.

Your first friends went through it all with you and were often loved right down to the bare threads. In addition to my monkey, and bears, I also had a tiny t-shirt I wore in the hospital that came home with me, was tucked into bed with me nightly, AND was tucked under my pillow long into my adolescence. Admittedly, I made sure it was taken care of after I moved away.

My older brother had a bear he called Roger. Roger definitely made a few visits to our Mom's Office of First Aid with his sewn on button eyes and restitched sides. My brother can still tell you to this day Roger's whereabouts. Roger has lived a long and very observant life and I am sure we are all glad Roger can not speak up. My little brother loved CareBears and Pandas and had plenty. Recalling his sentimental attachment to those bears, I thought it would be fun to get him a Care Bear holiday ornament this year. Oh, the laughter never ends at our house.

When I was pregnant, my mom brought down a box from the attic of all sorts of first friends I had not seen in ages. There was monkey, Smokey, and Winnie. I had the grand idea that my little monkey would be a treasured gift to share with our child. Aware of the critters in the attic that may have spent time with monkey too, I put him in the washer. Little did I know they used mulch or sawdust to stuff toys back in the day and we could NOT get that monkey to dry out.

My husband feigned disappointment that our child would go without this toy. This once daily comrade of mine was, in his eyes, a now clean albeit soggy stuffed monkey that had been a sponge of my kid slobber for years and years and then put in a dusty box in the attic for two decades plus. Monkey never had a name, and might have been my only first friend without one.

He is fully dried out now (although I do believe it took about six months) and is resting on my nightstand of my room in my mom's house. When my Mom offered my old Winnie the Pooh to our son, knowing we couldnt get that thing clean either, we collectively declined. All the toys now feel as soft as freshly spun silk courtesy of the mulberry silkworm. Our toys as you remember were not quite so delicate.

Our man has his own first friends, although he seems to have exponentially more than I remember toting around. He knows them all by name including "big Elmo", "little Elmo" and "Elmo basket". However, only three made the Varsity team to sleep in his bed every night and of those three, he has his favorite. We had read many times how kids have favorite toys or "loveys" and we waited to see who he would choose. Cotton is his stuffed lamb and "B" is his teddy bear. And our little man treats them like real little people.

One morning after we got up, I asked our son if he was ready for breakfast, he said, "Wait Mommy, let me get my friends." And he reaches down to pick up B. and Cotton. B. rides to school with us, reads our books, tastes Lukes cereal (not my favorite) and goes on every overnight trip too.

And now I find myself doing Mommy First Aid for the first time on B.

B. has seen so much activity he has developed a tiny tear. It just happens to be on the seam right on his little bear tush. So our little asked me one day what happened to B. and I told him B. had a boo boo. Of course, you know what happened next. Our son handed B. to me and said "Kiss B.'s boo boo Mommy." So I have now had the opportunity to kiss a furry bear tush about 100 times. No more, that little tear got all doctored up today.

And when MiniMac decides he does not want to go downstairs and brush his teeth, I have learned all I need to say is "B is going to brush his teeth with your toothbrush, is that ok?" MiniMac races to join the fun. How long will this work? Well, let's just stretch it as long as we can. That is the power of first friends.

Weekend Wanderlust: New York City

Jenny Mac: Sweet bite of the Big Apple

NYC is one of my favorite cities. To visit. I did kid myself for about eight minutes once that I could live there. Oh, that cold weather is mean but as a mere visitor, there need be no long term commit to frigid winters. And, do I love to visit. I went once as a wee lass with my Dad and older brother. I was a freshman in high school and while I didnt quite get to explore the city how I wanted (read, Dad kept me within an inch of him or the brother the entire time). But I started a love affair that has only blossomed and bloomed. Living in the south, I was frequently asked if I was from NY. At a party once, someone asked if I was from NY and if I was Italian (my favorite). A companion with us at the time, hailing from rural West Virginia with a sour face said to me "That's not a compliment you know. " Oh, but it is! One of my favorite moments was being asked by a tourist where to find St. Patty's cathedral. Oh, you know I got a big smile out of it. Another highlight was sitting in a sushi restaurant on Madison Ave across from the Dolce and Gabbana flagship that was hosting a huge party for Fashion Week. We walked out of the restaurant and right into that party. I was enjoying my first martini within three minutes in a sea of incredibly beautiful clothes.

My joy of visiting NYC only increased upon my first trip with a native New Yorker. Oh, the secret restaurants tucked away. I was already smitten with the landscape from watching Sex and the City but anyone can find 5th Avenue, but its a completely different story with a native guide. I have gone the tourist route for sure: boat to see Liberty, Times Square, and even Tiffany (which incidentally was the first place we ever looked at wedding rings). I will even admit a quick brunch at Tavern on the Green just for fun. (A one time only venture). I look foward to seeing Rockefeller Center (especially the tree at holiday time) but highlights for me are the gems tucked away.

Here are my Five Favorite Things to Do in NYC:

1. Go to Century 21. Its down in the Financial District across from Ground Zero. You can cab from midtown or certainly take the subway (take it, its easy). Century 21 is a bit of a goldmine in which you will find Versace, Pucci, Armani and beyond at deep deep discount. The shoe department is worth skipping, and so is the Men's department (PS: Dont take your husband, its not nice to make him shop with you. Plus, does he really want to know every little dollar you spent?)

2. Go to Zabar's Deli and get a spread of tasty bites (great cheeses, great flatbread, great bread, etc) and have a picnic in Central Park. On a beautiful day, it is so picture-perfect and full of life. We may or may not have brought some vino in with us as well and enjoyed that on a balmy afternoon. If you go in the summer, you can get the schedule ahead of time of all the concerts in Central Park. They get some incredible performers.

3. See a show. I have seen a wide variety, one of my favorites "Movin Out" based on Billy Joel's music. For me, seeing a show on Broadway is an even better anecdote and experience than seeing something at the Fox Theater. Predictable, I know but there is such a gamut to choose from. Everyone can find something they like.

4. Spice Market. This is a delicious restaurant by High Chief of Cuisine Jean George Vonchericthen. Located in the MeatPacking District, you can make a reservation 30 days out. Great atmosphere and a scrumptious sake martini. Any other Spice Market can not hold a candle to this one. For a little pre-dinner perfectness, go to Hotel Gansevoort across the street for cocktails on the top floor lounge. The view is lovely and so is the vibe.

5. Eat in Little Italy. You can pass right by Chinatown and its sea of bedazzled crap and fake purses and find an incredible and authentic Italian restaurant. Me, who likens herself an Italian, and loves it when others make that mistake, finds this spot to be worthy of even the most critical foodie. There are so many to choose from but Angelo's is one of my favorites. I was there one year during Taste of Little Italy. Are you kidding me? If you love Italian food, what a fete! It was crazy packed but fun to be a part of at least once.

Other honorable mentions include the Hudson (part of the Morgans Hotel Group). This is an uber swank and hip boutique with a great bar that becomes a late night hot spot. They have a great outdoor terrace, great food, and great staff. If you dont mind the fact your room could be literally as big as 150 square feet. Look into it. A friend of mine who knows NYC better than the Mayor always recommends Soho House New York. It requires a membership but its on my list. Listen, you can go to all the little clubs you want. 10June, etc etc. You are on your own since I don't necessarily want to go to a club the Olsen twins frequent AND the club du jour of the juenesse doiree changes to frequently for me to keep up with.

There are all kinds of guides and info online to help you plan your trip. But being the good friend I am, I have some inside info for you. Back in college I had the great opportunity to meet a true gem of a guy. We worked together one summer and I have some very fun and very funny memories of Jamie C. He is a big-city dweller and after his long tenure in the Windy City, he is now stationed in the Apple. He is also a sassy and prolific writer. Check out his wit and wisdom at http://www.yesiambitching.com/ And wear your seatbelt honey, he tells it like it is and I love it. I asked him to share some favorites and he produced.

Jamie Cutburth Goes Inside the Apple: Savvy info from a real New Yorker

1. Watch people on the hidden balcony at Grand CentralOn the upper east side of Grand Central Terminal hides Metrazur. This Charlie Palmer restaurant and bar gives you a bird’s eye view of the now infamous opal-faced clock tower, valued at more than ten million dollars by Sotherby’s. Grab a table by the balcony to gaze at the tower and get a great view of the bustling crowds on their commute. Now that you’re settled in, enjoy their sizable wine list, including the Argentinean Malbec or Chalone Vineyard’s Chardonnay. Both are delicious. Let the people watching begin.

45 Grand Central TerminalManhattan, NY 10017(212) 687-4600

2. Snack on the biggest little secret in townNew York is known for cupcakes, lots and lots of cupcakes. Magnolia Bakery is where it all began. Located in Greenwich Village, we all fell in love with their frosted treats watching Carrie Bradshaw devour them in Sex and the City. They stick to the simple flavors, and do it well. Head north to Crumbs on the Upper West Side for the big moist treats waiting for you. If they’re in stock, try the Baba Booey, a peanut butter and chocolate treat you won’t soon forget. If you’re not done yet, make your way to Buttercup Bakeshop. They have East and West side locations, so it’s easy to find them. Make sure you give the red velvet or lemon a try. http://www.magnoliacupcakes.com/http://www.crumbs.com/http://www.buttercupbakeshop.com/

3. Take a break from the city. Bryant Park is a hidden gem in the center of Midtown Manhattan. Located at 42nd Street and 5th Avenue, behind the public library, this perfect patch of green plays host to movies all Summer and The Pond, Manhattan’s premiere ice rink in the winter. No matter when you visit, you’ll be able to stay in touch with free wi-fi. Enjoy a perfect picnic when you grab a sandwich at ‘Wichcraft' the sandwich shop owned by Tom Colicchio (yes, the head chef on Top Chef) and head over to the lawn. If the kids are in tow, make sure you head to Le Carrousel for a ride on the horses.http://www.bryantpark.org/

4. Get the best postcard picture you’ve ever seen. Ready for breathtaking views of the city? You can’t see the skyline from Manhattan, so you’ll need to sneak over to Long Island City’s best kept secret, Water Taxi Beach. It’s just a quick boat ride across the Easat River. Once you’re there, enjoy great music, local micro-brews, and some of the best hand-made burgers anywhere. If you want to keep seeing the rest of the city, grab an all-day pass and take a lap around the south tip of the city and on over to the west side. It opens each year in May and stays open through September.http://www.watertaxibeach.com/

5. Impress your friends with your newfound knowledge. Who wants to go to school when you’re on vacation? If you’re a cheese-lover you will. Make your way to Murray’s Cheese Shop on Bleecker for their Cheese 101 class. $50 will get you a three-hour tour through five cheeses and an unlimited supply of wine, champagne or cava and bottled water. The teachers, technically known as cheese mongers, really know their stuff. Each works at the shop for years before heading to the front of the class. http://www.murrayscheese.com/

Try these tips, and tell me you didn't have a great time. Ciao.