My big Texas 3

1. Dallas/Plano: My home. The place where my family is, and the place in which I grew up. My alma maters, St. Mark and Ursuline. Sunny mornings spent reading in a hammock in my mother's garden. That pretty little red-roofed house on the end of the cul-de-sac where I spent many a summer afternoon riding my bike or rollerblading while my dad mowed the lawn in his favorite old hat. Sharon and Dave, Wendy, Tyler, Frankie, Blair, and of course Madison (my adopted family and my beautiful goddaughter). Bar-hopping downtown with old high school friends. Drinking espresso and writing on the patio at Obzeet. The Galleria. The big buildings. Even the traffic on Hwy 75.

2. College Station/Bryan: My second home. Aggieland. Maroon and white EVERYWHERE. Living in the dorms with one boy-crazy roommate and two equally boy-crazy suitemates. Frat parties. Ring dunks on Northgate. Weekends spent studying at Evans library with a mug of hot chocolate. Walking across campus on shivery winter days, and watching the Corps guys jog by. Spicy Ranchero chicken wraps at Rumour's. Yell practice. Silver Taps. Muster. Getting out of class early because somebody succeeded in making Reveille bark. The view of Kyle field outside my tiny apartment's bathroom window. Barbecues with plenty of beer and great neighbors. Crazy nights at Halo, followed by early-morning Whataburger runs. My beautiful students. My amazing coteachers. Cooking elaborate meals on my little gas stove.

3. San Antonio: The Riverwalk. Culinary school. Fleming's. Mornings spent jogging in the park with Gracie. Happy hour at Kona with Sam. Margaritas at Chuy's with Mike and Andria. Floating the river with plenty of beer and great friends. Chipotle Ranch burgers at Luther's. The ceaseless chatter of cicadas in the trees outside my apartment. Being completely submerged in the world of cooking. Studying measurement conversions and baking procedures by day, then sauteing shrimp and whisking butter into beurre blanc by night. Laughing my ass off at the antics of the other cooks at my workplace. Authentic Mexican food everywhere, and Spanish spoken by almost everyone around. Surviving an insanely busy night of cooking alongside my team members and feeling like a part of something big and meaningful. Comparing scars with my fellow cooks. Watching raw ingredients transform into something beautiful, and knowing that I played a role in making that happen.

I effing <3 Texas.