I ate all sorts of strange things on my trip to Taiwan earlier this year – sea cucumber, shark fin, jellyfish, stinky tofu – so eating chocolate-covered bacon seemed, well, somewhat normal. My friend Sarah’s blog mentioned the curious snack (but with caramel), so I hit Google looking for the perfect recipe. I decided to try my hands at Michael Symon’s Chocolate Covered Bacon with Almonds.

Armed with a pound of Oscar Meyer Bacon, a bag of Hershey’s semi-sweet chocolate chips, and some slivered almonds, I made quite a mess of the kitchen tonight.

I laid most of the bacon across cooling racks before putting them in the oven, so the fat dripped off of them and they stayed flat. The ones that were laid directly on the baking sheet curled too much and it was hard to coat them with chocolate. While the bacon was cooking in the oven, I melted the chocolate in a double boiler (or in my case, a sauce pan inside a sauce pan). I read to add a little vegetable oil to thin the chocolate a little bit, otherwise the chocolate would overpower the bacon. Of course, I added my own secret ingredient – pepper, madam? Lexcie hand-chopped the almonds, but it would have been much easier had we purchased slivered almonds.

Nice and crispy – you don’t now how difficult it was not to eat a slice of bacon before it hit the chocolate! The chocolate was the perfectly smooth and covered the bacon evenly – I just had to make sure to let the excess chocolate drip off the bacon. I then laid it on a piece of parchment paper (another commenter said not to put it on metal or the chocolate would crack off). Thirty minutes in the fridge, and voilà! A crispy, chocolaty, perfect-blend-of-sweet-and-salty snack. It’s delicious! I will definitely make this again, and may try using maple-flavored bacon next time.

“Chocolate is sacred – you just defiled my church. I still love you, but respect you a little less. I can’t wrap my head around this.” – Deena Baikowitz

I suppose that’s what it would look like if Allan Sherman’s “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah (A Letter From Camp)” was instead tweeted from camp.

Yesterday, I was at camp, minus the s’mores – Social Media Camp Long Island, that is.  The first-ever event was held at St. Joseph’s College in Patchogue, and included a day full of social media-related sessions, a panel discussion, and networking. It was perhaps the only place that someone wasn’t insulted if you were tweeting or posting on Facebook while talking to him!

The three blocks of sessions were attendee-influenced and led by local experts from all realms of social media. Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, journalism, podcasting, privacy – so many topics were discussed at once, and it was difficult to choose which breakout session to attend. I settled for three on business and Twitter, event planning, and local news. What I enjoyed most about it is that no one spoke at you – even though someone was leading a session, everyone shared ideas and learned from each other. Read the rest of this entry »

Well, perhaps not the Rolling Stone, but Newsday‘s good enough for me. I was interviewed for the cover story “Their New Lifeline,” which talks about Long Islanders with illnesses and how they’ve used the Internet to share their experiences. The story came out great, and there’s even a full-page photo of me on page A4. If you’re a Newsday subscriber, you can read the story here (with a sidebar on social media). I put a request in for a reprint, so hopefully I’ll have something to share with those who aren’t subscribed.

I was also taped along with a few others for a short video clip:

Exciting!

I’ve managed to get avoid yet another Summer Friday on the Long Island Railroad. It’s the period of time starting the Friday before Memorial Day and ending after Labor Day in which Fire Islanders, Hamptonites, and Montaukians take over the normal, usually quiet, commute home. Ask an everyday commuter on the Montauk Line about Summer Fridays and I guarantee they’ll make a face or groan. Certain beachgoers have earned a well-used nickname – citiots, short for idiots from NYC.

You can tell easily tell the beachgoer from the regular commuter. Beachgoers are Teva, Havaianas, polo shirts, and sundress-clad; smell heavily of suntan lotion or preppy cologne; carry Vera Bradley duffel bags and totes; have cell phones glued to their ears; and sometimes bring along a small dog, usually without a leash or crate. Your regular commuter is dressed for work, whether business suit or hard hat; has a monthly pass hanging around his neck; carries a newspaper and cup of coffee or platform beer; and attempts to sleep the entire way home.

There are unspoken rules that the regular commuter follows. If there aren’t enough seats, allow someone to sit down next to you. If someone was on the platform before you, allow them to enter the train first. Speak softly on your cell phone. Don’t bug to the commuter next to you if he’s sleeping. Don’t eat smelly food or wear heavy perfume. For the most part, this ends in a peaceful ride home (at least when there aren’t service delays).

But not on Summer Fridays. Read the rest of this entry »

In 2005, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the age of 22 (see: Living With Lymphoma). I had just graduated college, and received my first job offer and cancer diagnosis on the same day. Even though I couldn’t take the job, I was determined not to let it ruin my summer. I slyly asked my oncologist if I could attend a Journey concert (not mentioning that it would be two concerts, two days, two cities, and that I would be working on the band’s street team). He said yes, likely assuming that I’d be sitting down and nodding to the music. Yeah, right.

The first show, in Holmdel, NJ went off without a hitch (except for my funky dance moves, which really was spazzing from my post-Neulasta injection bone pain). Two nights later at Jones Beach, Long Island, I was determined to have even more fun. I danced wildly to “Don’t Stop Believin,’” ran to the stage to catch a flying drum stick, and even went backstage to meet the band. In the midst of all the excitement, the temporary port that was put in my arm for chemotherapy fell out. Oops.

Me and Journey lead singer Steve Augeri, the night my port fell out

The next day, I marched into the oncologist’s office with the snaking port in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag. The RN looked at me incredulously, and said, “Don’t you know that you are sick?”

I replied, “I’m not sick, I just have cancer.”

I wasn’t sick. Perhaps minorly inconvenienced. Cancer wasn’t, isn’t, and will never rule my life, and yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of young adult cancer survivors with the same kick-ass attitude at I’m Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation‘s third annual OMG! Cancer Summit for Young Adults at Pace University in New York City. Read the rest of this entry »