The view from my window :: Hudson
When the man to my left lifted the window shade, brilliant sunlight poured over the rolling green hills thousands of feet below. As our plane descended into the San Francisco Bay Area that morning, the vivid landscape and the gleam of the bay eased something in me. My shoulders dropped. I felt at home.
After a whirlwind trip to New York — the city where I was born — I was reminded that it is here in California where I find calm. I have known that for a long time, but the weekend reinforced it.
The trip itself was delightful. I spent the days immersed in food culture, surrounded by old friends, new acquaintances and family. The city’s energy reached me in familiar ways: the rhythm of its streets, the raw honesty of its people, the tapping of heels on pavement, the scramble to catch a subway, and the damp surprise of rain. I felt my family’s embraces, shared laughter with friends, and the quiet warmth of friendships that continue to grow.
There were signs of how busy I was. I carried a heavy bag full of camera gear only to realize I hadn’t taken meaningful photographs. I attended culinary sessions without pausing to eat. Whole days slipped by before I managed to say hello to my husband and children, who likely relied on quick breakfasts and snacks in my absence.
The IACP 2012 Annual Conference was as large and energizing as I expected. Even before I flew to New York, I knew the program would be overwhelming: so many sessions, so many choices. Looking back on the blur of the weekend, several moments stand out as particularly memorable.
Meeting people I’ve long admired was a highlight. I had the joy of telling Dianne Jacob in person how much her insight has shaped my approach to food writing. I caught up with Casey Benedict and was reminded that her warmth and professionalism are the same in person as they are online. Cheryl Sternman Rule’s writing translated seamlessly into a thoughtful, engaging real-life presence, and Jaden Hair’s energy and enthusiasm were infectious. Those brief encounters left me both humbled and encouraged.
Time with fellow food bloggers felt like a welcome reunion. It was a pleasure to see Brian and Ken, and finally meet Justin face to face; I only wished there had been more hours to spend together. Marnely and Margaret were every bit as charming and warm in person as I had hoped. Betty-Ann felt like family, a Tita I can turn to. I missed Winnie and could only share a wave with Mardi, but I was grateful to spend much of the conference with Mary, whose company felt familiar and comforting. That steady friendship was a grounding part of the weekend.
The speakers left me with takeaways I’ll remember for a long time.
You can’t have delicious without good ecology. – Dan Barber
It’s okay not to have a niche, as long as you have a voice. – Jess Thomson
All work is built on trust. – Faith Durand
Don’t forget to take the time to look. – Delores Custer
I left feeling inspired. The conference reminded me that ambitions seeded in our twenties can blossom later, sometimes more fully than we expect. Holding the new books from Cheryl and Paulette, feeling the weight of their months of work in each page and photograph, filled me with pride for their achievements. Their dedication was a vivid reminder that persistence and care produce beautiful results.
A brief moment with Delores Custer stood out. When she touched my arm and urged me to always take the time to look, her gentle gesture felt like a transmission of energy — a reminder to pay attention to the world around me. That advice reassured me that not every moment needs to be documented through a lens. Some moments are meant to be observed and kept in memory. My eyes were open; I held the weekend in my heart.
Returning to California, watching the familiar coastline approach, I felt steady and centered. The city had given me fresh perspective, renewed friendships, and new reminders about the craft and community of food. But arriving home, with its familiar light and landscape, reminded me where I am most at peace.