I've made a mental note not to tell everyone about Maddie's newest accomplishments. Or scroll through iPhone pictures of her all evening. So now I have no idea what I'll talk about. Do you think anyone there watches SEC football? Maybe I should read a newspaper in the morning. In all honesty, I imagine I'll stand quietly in the background sipping my herbal-infused DRY soda and watching eight of Napa Valley's top bartenders compete in the King's Ginger Cocktail Competition. Maybe snap a few photos. Since this is my first attempt to rejoin adult society, I figure I can gently ease myself into the program.

Whatever the evening holds, with Chicano Tequila and Luxardo as the premiere cocktail presenters and Mutineer Editor-in-Chief Alan Kropf at the helm, it promises to be rich with flavor and energy. The photos above and below were taken at last year's Red Carpet Comedy Festival, held at Jacuzzi Vineyards. It ranks as one of the most entertaining nights I spent in 2010. I can hardly wait to see if tomorrow tops it. 

Tickets are almost sold out, but you don't have to strut the red carpet at the Napa Valley Opera House - or even be in the Napa Valley - to enjoy the event.

Members of ToutSuite Social Club can log on Sunday evening at 7:30 and watch the event as it unfolds. That’s right. Live. Action. Viewing.

You can also check out Mutineer Magazine’s blog, which has been featuring King’s Ginger liqueur cocktail recipes all week.

Proceeds from the Red Carpet Party will go to Mutineer’s Clean Water Crusade, which is helping to provide water filtration systems to the people of Nepal.

I'll be sharing the photos and a recipe shortly, but for now, I'm going to go fill up a bowl with steaming pappardelle noodles, coat them in cremini-mushroom, Burton's bacon and beef tenderloin studded cream sauce, top it with some white truffle oil and watercress, and watch Alabama kick Ole Miss up and down their home field. Oh, and I think there's a ginger beer with my name on it chilling in the refrigerator.  My all-time favorite winter soda. 

Tomorrow Maddie and I will be celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving with my book club girls. It's early, but I'm going to go ahead and say how thankful I am that Crooked Porch's Nick Heinrich, also known as our very own Uncle Nicky, repeatedly feels the need to test out his menus on the Gadke clan. 

If you haven't picked out your Fall pumpkins yet, take the afternoon off, work your way through a maze of sunflowers and fill a wheelbarrow with heirloom gourds. The French Cinderella pumpkins at Stanly Lane look lovely on a dining room table.

Tomorrow, Rhett and I honor our first anniversary. In a much smaller but still significant way, I hope we will say something similar about our marriage in, say 50 years, and that the family we are building here, now, is what we will hold tightly to. It hasn't been an easy year, but it has been tremendous in its rewards. And full of such joy. Aw shucks, I light up just looking at that face below.  It's my husband in miniature, only more delicate and with my eyes. And I wonder, half seriously...did I miss my calling as an infant photographer? I find such joy in capturing the curiosity, the mischief, the giggles and questions found in that little girl's eyes. 

I snapped this a few weeks ago before swim class. I'm not sure if I should be entertained or dismayed by this picture. I don't even let Maddie watch tv at home, yet here she is, with her playfriend Ella, playing quite knowledgeably with my iPhone. Look how Ella holds hers, just like a little adult. And Maddie already knows how to use her finger to scroll through pictures (mostly of her; can you sing "You're so vain?").

Our modern day version of outdoor play? Bye-bye to basketball and bikes? Not if I can help it! 

Obviously, I jumped at the chance, and thus spent last Thursday evening fueling my ongoing fantasy of co-hosting a wine, food, travel and lifestyle show. As I've said many times on this blog, don't you think Anthony Bourdain needs a sunny, optimistic counterpoint to drive him bat sh@$ crazy on his adventures across the globe? A Pollyanna foil he could grumble about every time her back was turned? I would totally be that girl for you Anthony. 

Until my big break comes, I'm thrilled to be THIS girl in the video HERE. I've had the pleasure of being both a viewer and a participant in several of ToutSuite's live events, and may I just say, this is addictive stuff. The commentators MAKE this show come alive with their Professional Poker Meets Professional Golf style voice overs. They add a certain note of hilarity and turn an otherwise flat blind tasting into a free-for-all. Ok, not quite a free-for-all, but they certainly up the fun factor.

I love that the host introduced me as a wine expert and avid collector. If, by collector, they mean I have a stash of cases heaped haphazardly in my cool, dark coat closet, then I suppose I qualify. See what I mean by representing the common man? Boy did I have a blast! 

Impromptu jam session at the River House after an afternoon spent at the Old Fiddlers Convention in Galax, VA

"What?" The sound of her eyebrows raising was actually audible. Even on the phone. "You've been gone for three weeks. You must be totally rested."

And this is what I have to say to all the dear, sweet A.'s in the world, those women without children,one of whom I used to be. My husband and I logged 2,100 miles in a rented Hyundai. We trekked all over the South, from Atlanta to a crystal clear lake in the North Carolina Highlands, to vintage-meets-hipster-meets-alternative Asheville, NC, to the Old Fiddlers' Convention in Galax, VA, then down to Sarasota, Florida with a quick stopover in Savannah for a some ribs at Johnny Harris (we've been shipping their 'cue sauce out to Napa for over a year now). We logged all those miles...with a seven-month old in tow.

Madpie was a total road warrior. She entertained herself for hours in the car. The only time she fussed was when she had a diaper blowout. Of course it was in  the middle of rush hour outside Orlando. During a blinding rain storm. She flirted with fiddle-toting strangers at the bluegrass festival. At the beach, she coated herself in sand until she looked like a chicken ready for the fryer. She could not get enough of the ocean. Our little Madfish.

New tastes, sights, sounds, people, textures, temperatures (whew, was it hot and sticky in the Dirty South). She was up for anything and everything, from the Waffle House cheese grits to the penguins at the Atlanta Aquarium. Everything except sleeping. From 11 pm until 7, she woke every two hours, demanding a snack. Now, at home, we'd nip that in the bud. But when you're sharing a house with others - most of them childless - letting your child cry it out is not an option. So I fed her at 1 am, 3 am, 5 am, 7 am, thus perpetuating the poor daytime eating cycle that continued for three weeks. 

Also, I realized that we might have be on "vacation," but my day-to-day operation changed relatively little. I still rose every morning before sunrise to offer my body to another for nourishment and then spent the day's remaining 12 to 14 hours playing the role of unpaid entertainer for an audience of one. The only difference I noticed was that we had taken our show on the road.

Until I became a mama, I never realized how "on" you must be at all times. I feel like I should write apology letters to my mom and my sister for not "getting it" sooner. And I only have one child. All of you mamas with multiples, you are amazing and, most likely, very under-appreciated individuals.

Sleep deprivation aside, the last month goes down as the best vacation ever. Thank you, sweet husband, for orchestrating it all. I'll try to post food highlights soon - the sweet, lightly breaded shrimp at O'Steen's in St. Augustine, the pulled pork and butter-soaked green beans from Dreamland BBQ, the tableside service and black eyed peas dished up at the original Chick-fil-A Dwarf House, and the entire breakfast menu from the Early Girl Eatery in Asheville are all worth mentioning. 

I didn't sleep during my vacation, but I sure did eat!

My favorite photo from the trip, snapped while Maddie Rhett and Daddy Rhett catnapped during an ocean boat ride.

One of many occasions when Nick took over our kitchen and fried up some buttermilk-coated goodies. Mama like!Crooked Porch Nick's recipe for crimson-colored red velvet cake minis floated into my inbox late last night, and I floated away on a cloud of nostalgia as I remembered Nick's big sweet presence during the first weeks of Maddie's life.

Rhett and I were scared and exhausted new parents, and Nick arrived on more than a few afternoons with his chef's knives, a hunk of raw meat (usually chicken or pork), some 'cue sauce and plenty of flour, cornmeal and buttermilk for fry mix. Pickles, okra, beans and other goodies often showed up, too. He and Rhett would huddle over the stove in much the same way I huddled over Maddie, and they'd cook up the most comforting meals. 

I was nursing and ravenous at all times, and his food served as both nutrition (if you call fried okra and pulled pork nutrition, which I do) and security blanket. One day, though, Nick brought over a baggie full of miniature red velvet cakes. They were leftovers from a catering gig he'd finished earlier that day, and he thought the "new little momma," as he called me, might enjoy them. 

Did I ever! I actually made him come back and take the bag away because I would sit down and pop five or six little cakes into my mouth...three or four times a day!

These are addictive little devils. You can thank Nick yourself for the recipe by going to his Crooked Porch Facebook Page and leaving him a note. 

Red Velvet Cake:

t = teaspoon; T= tablespoon

2 1/2 c sifted AP flour

2 t salt

2 t baking powder

1/4 t baking soda

1/4 c natural cocoa powder

1 oz red food coloring

3 T water

1 c ( 2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

2 c sugar

3 large eggs

1 1/2 t natural Vanilla extract

1 1/3 c buttermilk

Icing:

1/2 c ( 1 stick) unsalted butter

1 pound cream cheese, softened

2 1/2 c confectioner's sugar

2 T milk

For the cakes: Coat a mini nonstick 24-cup cake pan with non stick cooking spray with flour.

Preheat oven to 350

Shift the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda together.

In a separate bowl whisk the cocoa, red food coloring and water to a

smooth paste.

In a large bowl, beat 1c of butter with an electric mixture until

creamy(about 30 seconds ). Add half the sugar and beat for another 15

seconds. Scrape down the side of the bowl, add the rest of the sugar and

beat for 2 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, then add vanilla. Add the

cocoa mix until evenly incorporated.

To avoid overworking the batter this step is done by hand with a

wooden spoon or rubber spatula.

Add the flour mixture to the butter and eggs in thirds. Alternate the

buttermilk in between these steps.

Fill each mold in the cupcake pan halfway. They

should bake about 10 to 15 minutes, although there’s room for oven variation.

For Icing: With an electric mixture beat 1 stick butter until creamy. Add cream

cheese then beat until fluffy (about one minute). Add the confectioner's

sugar one cup at a time. If the icing is too stiff, add in milk to loosen

it.

Thanks again Uncle Nicky!

"Doing it all" lasted about 20 minutes. I managed to pop a single spiced almond into my mouth, meet a few fellow writers and snap a handful of pictures before Maddie began to melt down. We took a short walk outside, bid farewell to our ToutSuite hosts, Didier Loustau and Susan Quinn (more on them and ToutSuite later; in the meantime check out their Facebook Page), and dashed to the car.

This is the day I discovered that "doing it all" is not worth it. It turned out to be a thirty minute drive, parking on a shaded side road so I could nurse Maddie in the back seat, and a half hour spent cooing to my whining, tired six-month old while trying to engage in professional conversation followed by another half hour drive throughout which both my darling daughter and I could barely keep our eyes open. It did not include a single bite of anything covered in 'cue sauce. My husband, who arrived just as I was hightailing it outta there, tells me Nick brought his A-game to the dinner table. My dinner was a strawberry shake from the A1-KFC drive thru. Not a culinary highlight. 

Chef Nick Heinrich in the ToutSuite Social Clubl KitchenNext time, I'll hire a babysitter and leave my daughter and my ego at home.

I missed the ToutSocial, which included a blind tasting with two of Napa Valley's top winemakers, Hourglass' Jeff Smith and Relic Wines' Mike Hirby, as well as keyboardist to the band Wrist Rocket, Paul Hoffman. Fortunately, Chef Nick Heinrich is also Maddie's favorite Alabama teddy bear, and Uncle Nicky, as we call him, tells me he'll send a sweet Southern dessert recipe tomorrw. Stay tuned!

If you're not a grape or tomato vine, it's been a lovely, 70-degree summer. We're just now moving into 80-90 degree territory in the Napa Valley. Living air conditioner free has never been easier. My daughter still sleeps in footie pajamas because the nights get so cool, and I sometimes wish I had a pair myself.

On the vegetable side, however, it's been harder going. My husband and I have grown tired of seeing the winter root vegetables continue to show up in our veggie box. So...imagine our surprise and delight when we spotted these locally grown heirloom tomatoes, at a Raley's grocery no less. 

Bring on the heirloom tomato salads salads, the gazpacho, the homemade salsa, the tomato sandwiches with or without mozzarella and basil, the linguine with olive oil and tomatoes, and all the other simple summer menus involving little more than tomatoes, olive oil and a touch of sea salt...to make 'em sweat.

I was standing at our kitchen sink when I looked up and noticed our window sill was studded with ripe, red heirlooms. My heart took a small leap. It's Tuesday morning. Let's celebrate big pleasures in small packages.

If you have a fantastic tomato menu, please share!

Scrumptious. Decadent. Yummy in the Tummy. Good thing Maddie has the "I'm adorable" card tucked in her back pocket at all times. On mornings like this, it's her ace in the hole.

A dog attacked a cat outside our window at 5:15. Maddie woke, crying and demanding to nurse. As I wobbled into the nursery, I cursed the feral cats running wild like gangs in the streets of Napa and hoped with every dog-tired fiber of my being that the dog won.

Oof, I was tired this morning. Rhett has been out of town the past two days, so I've spent the past two nights jumping awake with every crack and creak, every laughing teenager skateboarding to who knows where, and every shift in the wind that bumped against the windows of our 19th century Victorian.

I sat down in my rocker and pulled Maddie to me, and sighed with one happy thought - when Maddie gets up before her usual 6:30 wake time, she goes back to sleep until 7:30. And so do I.

I tucked Maddie back in at 5:45 and slid under my own cool duvet. Thirty minutes later, the Maddie moan began. Maybe she'll put herself back to sleep? Then, the crying. Grrrr.  No sleep and no Daddy to give me half an hour to pull myself together. I sort of half rolled onto the floor, searched around for my broken-in leather house shoes and pulled on a bathrobe.

I opened the nursery door and I knew. The scent was in the air. Maddie had left me a special crib gift. And hers, unfortunately, are the kind that keep on giving. I laid out a swaddle to provide an extra protective layer to the changing table, grabbed a handful of wash cloths and a box of wipes, and began the clean-up process, singing the alphabet song as I swiped in a desperate attempt to calm my wailing child. Fifteen happy put-down-the-desitin-already-i'm-totally-awake-and-want-to-go-play minutes later, we bounced down the steps (counting all 16 of them as we went) and into the living room. I'd sterilized and laid out my pumping gear the night before, so I plopped Maddie on her playmat with some large shape blocks, ran upstairs to empty the diaper bin and strip the crib sheets, then washed and re-washed my hands and got down to the unglamorous business of pumping.

Maddie has discovered her voice. She has spent the last three days testing her volume button, so while I pumped she'd let out a yell every few minutes, then look at me and give me a proud, pink-gummed grin. About ten minutes (and only two ounces) in, the yelling stopped and Maddie got very still. Then her face turned dark red. Then, I heard the telltale gurgle. 

At that point, all I could think was...Maddie pooped all over my morning. Twice. Surely we can only go uphill from here.

Right? I could really use an espresso right now. Something hot and artery-clogging from Addendum would be nice, too. Is it too early for fried chicken?

So how was your morning?