Albuquerque Flight Pattern

There's nothing like bubbly and donuts after your first hot air balloon ride. Our 'driver,' Brooke, offered both as he distributed flight certificates and lapel pins, and read the Irish Balloonist's Prayer aloud:

The winds have welcomed you with softness.

The sun has blessed you with his warm hands.

You have flown so high and so well that

God has joined us together in laughter and set us

gently back into the loving arms of Mother Earth.

A whoosh of hot air and whisper of breeze had ushered us into the early morning sky outside Albuquerque. With arm muscles bulging, Brooke deftly adjusted heavy-duty synthetic ropes that secured the rainbow-striped balloon to the passenger basket, and the burner that helps change the air pressure and balloon shape. Cameras clicked and whirred in every direction.

A smaller balloon to our right shimmered silver and blue against wispy clouds. The Rio Grande snaked below us, across the fall-colored landscape, and beneath a highway bridge where passing cars resemble ants. The balloon nearly skimmed the river’s surface before it rose to the treetops and traveled within several yards of upper branches.

Fifty-five minutes, three ground miles, and 1,700 feet in elevation later, Brooke slowly allowed hot air to escape through a vent in the balloon's crown so it could land in a field near where we started. We gently touched ground and departed the basket. Several passengers helped the crew squeeze air out of the spent balloon and then the festivities began.

Tasting Sonoma

Beginning in the late 1800s many Italian immigrants settled in the Sonoma Valley, which reminded them of their home country, and transplanted their wine making expertise to their new country.

Since that time, dozens of wineries have sprung up across the verdant valley where much of the wine experience is about small operations, small batches, and a family’s dedication to producing the best wine possible from one generation to the next. Today, travelers may visit hundreds of wineries throughout the region, for experiences that are as diverse as the wineries themselves.

Morning sun warms my face as I savor a heady Cabernet and watch the pruning of the vines, on a dew-kissed hilltop at Passalacque Winery – a fourth-generation operation. At Seghesio Family Vineyards, I taste and purchase a crisp and rare white Arneis from the Italian Piedmonte grape, as spunky matriarch, Rachael Ann Seghesio, tells the story of the family operation, which began five generations ago in 1895.

At Bella Vineyards and Wine Caves, owned by Scott and Lynn Adams, I sip a full-bodied syrah in manmade caves amidst 400 oak barrels and a rock-walled tasting room. At Dutcher Crossing the ’05 Merlot combines a weedy nose with soft tannins. Although I’ve barely scratched the surface my brief trip has ended, leaving plenty more tasting opportunities for my next visit.

Sweet Cranberries

The recipe contest required that entries use at least one cranberry product from the company sponsor and my wheels began to turn. No doubt I would enter a dessert recipe, and cranberry and chocolate would make a natural pairing, but plenty of other people had already used that combo. I needed something really different.

What about cranberry and white chocolate? Hmmm – okay. Now, should I make a cake, pie, cookies or cheesecake…? I decided to create a cheesecake with whole berry cranberry sauce in the filling and also as a pureed topping. I hoped to nail it within three tries and my neighbors agreed to be guinea pigs.

Since I’ve never liked side crusts on cheesecakes mine would only have a bottom crust – with nuts. I imagined a bright red, translucent glaze atop the white filling, and maybe some curls of white chocolate too.

Three tries and several weeks later, my neighbors and I had chosen the second version. Dense yet moist, the filling showcased a big dose of cranberry flavor and a whisper of melted white chocolate. Finally, white chocolate curls peeked out from between two layers of glaze, thinned with a bit of cranberry juice cocktail.

Somebody else won the contest but I gained a spectacular recipe that I'll forever enjoy sharing with friends and family.

Cranberry White Chocolate Cheesecake

At least 12 servings

1 cup finely crushed graham crackers

1/8 cup finely chopped walnuts

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

2 Tablespoons butter, melted

1 1/2 pounds low-fat cream cheese, softened

¾ cup granulated sugar

¾ cup brown sugar

5 large eggs

12 ounces Ocean Spray Whole Cranberry Sauce

4 ounces white chocolate, melted

¼ cup heavy cream

12 ounces Ocean Spray Whole Cranberry Sauce

6-8 teaspoons Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice

1 ounce shaved white chocolate

Crust: Combine crushed graham crackers, walnuts and cinnamon.

Stir in melted butter. Press crust onto bottom of springform pan to

just above lower lip inside pan. Refrigerate until filling is ready.

Filling: Stir cranberry sauce in a small bowl until it breaks apart and

becomes slightly liquid. Set aside. Using an electric mixer, beat
cream cheese until smooth and then beat in granulated and brown
sugar, a little at a time, until mixture is fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a
time, beating thoroughly after each egg. Beat in cranberry sauce
and white chocolate. Pour filling into pan and bake the cheesecake
in the middle of the oven at 325 degrees, for 1 1/2 hours (times may
vary with individual ovens). Allow cheesecake to cool on a wire rack
before refrigerating, covered, overnight.

Topping: Puree cranberry sauce to make a thick, smooth sauce,

and the spread half on top and sides of cheesecake. Top with
shaved white chocolate. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. Spread
remaining sauce over the entire cheesecake and serve.

Make Me an Irish Coffee

It’s early Thursday morning near the fog-shrouded piers of San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf. After walking for 20 minutes in the chilly morning air, The Buena Vista Café and its legendary Irish coffee beckon me. When I order the signature beverage my server simply says, “Make me one.”

Legend has it that in November 1952, then-owner of the cafe, Jack Koeppler, and international travel writer, Stanton Deleplane, tried to re-create the popular beverage served at Shannon Airport in Ireland, without much success. But Koeppler was so determined that he visited the Airport to taste the real thing and, many tastings later, he nailed the legendary coffee and whiskey mixture, while a local dairy owner helped him recreate the foam.

As the fog thins, cable cars spring to life, cars douse their headlights and dedicated cyclists challenge the city's famed hills. The foam on my Irish coffee lasts for more than 20 minutes in its special six-ounce glass – enough time to make a major dent in a steaming plate of Crab Benedict. It's worth $7.50 to taste a bit of history with my meal.

Another World

I have lived in Midwestern cities for more than 35 of my 50+ years, and our 20-something daughters grew up in the Kansas City area. As college approached, both girls chose out-of-state schools. Our 'Arizona daughter' moved to a whole other world of climate and vegetation.

I first saw palm trees in our suburban neighborhood outside of Oakland, California, during elementary school. I loved their whispery voices, when breezes rustled the lush palm fronds. But all too soon, we moved back to a more temperate climate, far from palm fronds and ocean breezes.

Palm trees of all shapes and sizes greeted me, my siblings, and my parents in Orlando, when we attended the grand opening of Disney World. I hungrily drank in images of the tropical greenery and stored them for retrieval during gray Pittsburgh days.

At 10 a.m. on my 21^st birthday, I arrived in Ft. Lauderdale from snowbound Ohio, with six friends, anticipating a week of sun and fun. My jaw dropped as we drove along a wide boulevard lined for many blocks by the tallest palms I had ever seen. It remains my most vivid memory of a memorable trip.

Thirty years later, at Arizona State, I found another ‘boulevard’ lined with stories-high palms that rustled in the slightest breeze and bowed before strong winds. This time, they flanked a wide sidewalk that bisected the campus and overshadowed my daughter as she walked to classes. And I envied her, a bit, for living in this tropical paradise.

Christopher Elbow's Chocolate Heaven

At Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolates, in Kansas City, Mo., Elbow and his staff of three create and store 10,000 to 12,000 handmade chocolates per average week. Between November and Valentine’s day, they churn out 30,000 to 40,000 pieces each week.

There are Belgian-style chocolates –with molded exteriors, a thick shell and soft fillings; and French-style, with a thin, delicate chocolate shell formed when a ‘curtain’ of chocolate pours over flavored fillings. Dark chocolate pairs with French lavender and black tea combines with citrus.

The chocolates are gorgeous too. Architectural and design magazines and individual artists inspire Elbow’s designs. Sprays of white cocoa butter splattered across Tahitian vanilla enrobed chocolates mimic Jackson Pollack’s painting style.

Everyone has specific jobs to do. J.K. cleanly cuts large slabs of ganache with a ‘guitar’ slicer and then quickly arranges it on cooling trays so her hands do not melt the chocolate. Steven paints bon bon molds with finger strokes of colored liquid cocoa butter.

Ethan fills boxes with chocolates and flavor diagrams. As 60 confections emerge from the French enrobing machine onto chilled fillings, every 90 seconds, Elbow transfers pre-printed ‘pages’ of repeating cocoa butter patterns onto the finished tray. They repeat each process dozens of times every day and I marvel at their consistency.

After I say good-bye, the scent of fine chocolate lingers on my clothes for hours.

Hidden Beauty

Early afternoon sun beats down on the familiar winding, narrow streets and warm, adobe buildings of Santa Fe. At every turn a graceful archway, turquoise window frame, or rough-hewn vigas (roof beams that extend beyond the outer edge of buildings) draw my eye. An outdoor market that occupies one street corner overflows with decorative strings and wreaths of chilies, imported kilim rugs, hand-painted ceramic tiles, and heat-infused gourmet foods.

I wander into a crowded store and discover it is the basement of another I have visited during each of five previous trips to the City Different. An indoor ‘mall’ set inside an antique, multi-level adobe structure seems smaller and less attractive than before. I commit street names and junctures to memory, in preparation for future trips.

A series of balconies that surround a quiet courtyard beckon my camera. While standing on one of the tiny overlooks I scan for the perfect shot, but no angle or view seems quite right. Dejected, I prepare to put the camera away. Suddenly the perfect silhouette appears immediately before me – and that single image perfectly summarizes everything I love about this magical city.