the pomegranate inn: a haven of sassy sophistication

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The stately classic facade of the Pomegranate belies its crazy-cool interior.

The Pomegranate Inn — funky, whimsical, eclectic, fun, beautiful, sophisticated and surprising — is the art museum of your wildest dreams.

Not only can you feast your eyes on sumptuous prints, paintings, textiles, mosaics, sculpture, antique furniture, rugs, murals, mirrors, lamps, and fetching objets d’art, you can live, read, nosh, daydream, and sleep in their midst.

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Did you ever think an innkeeper could curate fantasy and imagination in the name of comfort and hospitality? Or blend classical art with contemporary, East with West, throwing in a bit of vintage chic to stunning effect, making you feel like you were house-sitting an artsy friend’s very cool digs?

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This distinctive gem of a boutique inn, located on a quiet residential street in Portland’s West End, doesn’t feel like a typical small city hotel, and it’s certainly not your grandmother’s Victorian lace doily B&B. The Pomegranate is Alice in Wonderland meets Aubrey Beardsley and Matisse meets Duncan Phyfe and Architectural Digest with a twist of the Eastern Han Dynasty. And that’s just one room.

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a chocolate chat with author mara price + her recipe for mexican chocolate brownies!

Not too long ago, I walked into this tiny chocolate shop in Kailua, Hawai’i:

I was anxious to try the award-winning artisanal bean-to-bar chocolate I’d heard so much about. (Did you know Hawai’i is the only state in the country where cacao can be grown?) I was greeted by this cute, friendly chocolate maker named Dave Elliott:

How could anyone resist buying chocolate from this man?

As he told me about the two lines of chocolate they make on site — one with cacao grown in Hamakua on the Big Island, the other with cacao sourced from Central America and the Caribbean, I spotted an interesting children’s picture book on the top shelf:

Grandma’s Chocolate? My kind of book! Dave told me the author, Mara Price, had recently done a presentation and signing at Madre Chocolate.

As soon as I returned home to Virginia (after taste testing several luscious bars — Coconut Milk and Caramelized Ginger, 70% Hamakua Dark, Triple Cacao, Passion Fruit, 70% Dominican Republic Dark), I contacted Mara and she graciously agreed to talk chocolate with us at Alphabet Soup. 🙂

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friday feast: ♥ my darling, my dumpling ♥

Not too long ago, I asked you to call me “Melon Head.” Would you mind changing that to “Apple Dumpling”?

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Of all the foodie terms of endearment — Pumpkin, Sweetie Pie, Babycakes, Cookie, Honeybun — I think “Apple Dumpling” suits me best right about now.

Fall (my favorite season) doesn’t officially begin until Sunday, but that familiar chill is already in the air. Hooray for apple season, deep blue skies, warm cider with cinnamon sticks, stunning rustic foliage, and friendly pumpkins on porches! I am basically *ahem* a little apple-shaped, can be sweet or tart, and would like nothing better than to wrap myself in a buttery, flaky blanket of dough. Did you know this past Tuesday the 17th was National Apple Dumpling Day? 🙂

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the meat of the matter: aaron reynolds on carnivores

Warning: The following post features ferocious meat lovers. If you are tender, juicy, or have a tendency to hop, they might eat you. Read at your own risk.

The Lion is King of the Jungle!

The Great White Shark is Sovereign of the Sea!

The Timber Wolf is Emperor of the Forest!

and

this

seemingly normal

book biting

lasagna and sushi lover

who goes by the name of Aaron Reynolds

is

PRINCE OF THE PICTURE BOOK!!

*roar, chomp, howl*

His Royal Meatness

You want proof of the Princely Pudding? Ravenous readers everywhere are gleefully clicking their cuspids and savagely devouring Aaron’s brand new book, Carnivores. Yes, they’re eating it up before it eats them. 🙂

A wise and sensible thing to do, I daresay, because this hilarious story is totally brilliant, darkly delicious, and oh-so-filling. *burp*

It wasn’t enough that back in 2005, Aaron spiced up my ho-hum existence with Chicks and Salsa. No. He got me to wiggle my wattle and actually tolerate football with Buffalo Wings in 2007. Did he stop there? Not a chance.

Last year he terrified me with a bunch of Creepy Carrots, but I’ve since forgiven him because at least now I know the chopped salad I’ve been smelling under my pillow is real.

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friday feast: a miracle of flour, yeast, and metaphor

“Peace goes into the making of a poem, as flour goes into the making of bread.” ~ Pablo Neruda

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Franck Dangereux’s Oil Bread via The Food Fox (click for recipe)

The other day, after rereading Lesléa Newman’s, “According to Bread,” one of my favorite poems in The Poetry Friday Anthology for Middle School (Pomelo Books, 2013), chewy, mouthwatering bread names playfully called to me, each a poem unto itself.

Bagel, Brioche, Baguette . . . Ciabatta, Challah, Chapati . . . Kulcha, Lavash, Focaccia, Tortilla, Pita, Zwieback.

Play with us, they said. Roll, pat, toss us! Slice, butter, dip, fill, break us. We know we smell good. 🙂

Bread is a beautiful thing — venerable, inclusive, eternal, irresistible. Staff of life and a sacrament, it pays our way and is a gift from every culture and ethnicity in the world.

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Rosemary Focaccia via My Year Cooking with Chris Kimball (click for recipe)

Just naming these breads makes me happy. I daresay I feel a tad cosmopolitan because I’ve actually tasted all of them and more. What do you reach for when the bread basket is passed around?

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