hartz Archives

A Bittersweet Dinner with the Biddles

???

Change is always bittersweet. One part of you acknowledges and celebrates growth; the other longs for the past and its golden nostalgia, its memories. My best friend and work wife of over four years, whom I’ve worked with at Club Monaco, Ralph Lauren, and Eileen Fisher, decided to take a new job at a new company—meaning she’d be moving to Denver, Colorado.

We got together for a final farewell, a last supper of sorts. We had dinner at her parent’s house, where we ate hamburgers and drank wine. It’s funny—after all the years of knowing her, and despite her having met my family and my husband, this was the first time I’d been introduced to her parents. It took us all that time, up until right before she left, for me to meet them.

Now Harry (the dog) i’ve met many of times. As you can see from the photos he is always in the the right spot, at just the right time! He adds that class and cuteness any good time requires. He may have to stand in for Hannah and fill the void of her absence.

Of course, I will be going to Denver to visit her. But it was nice to be there to give her a proper send-off at dinner as part of the family. It’s also nice to know there will never be a “goodbye” for us—just an “until next time.”

Cooking class Hartz Style

The table tells the story first.

A wooden surface warmed by use, a bowl that’s been dipped into more than once, and a plate set down without ceremony: sliced chicken, a spoonful of something creamy and patient, and a scatter of greens with bright bites mixed in. It’s the kind of meal that doesn’t try to impress, but still feels carefully made—quietly balanced, familiar, and real.

Cooking class Hartz Style felt like that. Less about perfection, more about paying attention. The small motions matter: how you cut, how you taste, how you wait. You learn the way flavors settle into each other, how a simple salad becomes better when it’s handled gently, and how the main dish doesn’t need much when it’s cooked well.

What I loved most was the ease of it all. People reaching for forks, sharing space, taking seconds from the bowl, leaving a few crumbs behind. A class, yes—but also a pause in the day where food becomes a kind of ordinary comfort.

If you’re curious about how everyone experienced it, the Instagram comments are worth a read. Sometimes the best review is just someone saying they went home thinking differently about dinner.

Weekend Brunch with my Favorite People

The table was already telling a story before anyone said a word—white mugs cooling into quiet, orange juice catching the light, and a small bottle of syrup standing in the middle like a patient invitation. Plates arrived with their familiar comforts: eggs, toast, bacon, the kind of breakfast that feels like it’s been waiting for you.

Weekend Brunch with my Favorite People isn’t really about the menu, even when it’s generous. It’s about how a room changes when everyone settles in. Silverware clinks, chairs shift, and the conversation starts to move—slow at first, then steady, like warmth coming back into your hands.

There’s something grounding about eating together at the soft edge of the weekend. You notice the details you’d usually rush past: the clean lines of the placemats, a tulip in a glass, the way coffee smells different when you’re not drinking it alone.

If the week can make life feel scattered, brunch gathers it back up. It reminds me that good days don’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes they show up as a shared table, simple breakfast, and the familiar ease of people who make the city feel smaller.

Later, the plates empty and the cups go cold, but the room keeps a little of that warmth—proof that the best part was never just what we ate.

Happy Hartz

| #brunch #pink #hartz | ???

| A lovely weekend brunch with Hannah at a little spot in Nolita colored all Pink. We surly were happy hartz. The cafe is called Pietro Nolita and has a decently priced brunch but a great pistachio cappuccino!