Mean Mr. Mustard in Hendersonville, NC – So nice, I ate there twice.

When I set off at the beginning of this adventure, I was prepared for a month of vagabonding and living out of my car. Upon hearing this, my gracious host in North Carolina set off on a mission to fatten me up with gourmet treats before releasing me back into the wild – and boy, did she succeed.

One of my favorite eats in downtown Hendersonville was a charming cafe perched just off Main Street. Its name is Mean Mr. Mustard, and you might be able to discern from the title that this dainty restaurant is entirely made in tribute to The Beatles. The restaurant owners spared no detail, covering the walls with Beatles art, albums, and other memorabilia. Even the salt and pepper shakers were miniature drums adorned with the band name.


I ordered The Eggman’s Basic, which is your standard breakfast spread with two eggs, hash browns, and bacon – plus a slice of their delicious homemade focaccia bread. I was in absolute heaven with my meal. Any time I go to a breakfast joint, I always order the traditional breakfast platter so I can compare notes with the other eateries I have sampled. To compliment my plate, I ordered a tall glass of “Lennonade,”  which was fabulous.


What really set this breakfast experience apart from any other was the atmosphere of Mean Mr. Mustard. The small building sat only a few handfuls of tables, and the intimate setting was amplified by the wonderful man who sat in the back corner playing acoustic versions of classic Beatles songs. Live music is no shocker for evening meals, but it was a really great way to start the day.

Our meal at Mean Mr. Mustard was so great that Dena and I returned the next morning after our yoga class with a group of hilarious women who kept me laughing for hours. On the second visit, I opted for lunchtime fare, and ordered a half Greek salad with half of a custom-made grilled cheese sandwich. Once again, the culinary creations at this restaurant had my taste buds begging for more. My next trip to Hendersonville will undoubtedly include a visit to Mean Mr. Mustard — and next time, I’m treating Dena whether she likes it or not.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the orchards for an afternoon of apple picking.

Freshly baked cinnamon buns, rolled in BACON – of course I took it there.

I love bacon. I love bacon-covered turkeys for Thanksgiving; I love bacon-cooking alarm clocks – I love bacon. This morning, Niko and I took it to a new level with one of the greatest breakfast inventions ever to grace my kitchen: bacon-wrapped cinnamon rolls.

It’s been a while since I last updated with some tasty climber lady treats, so I figured I’d make my comeback with a bang. I don’t eat a lot of meat, but I am obsessed with bacon.


Super simple to make. All you have to do is pan fry a few strips of bacon (we only made three in this batch in case it was a failure), and leave them slightly underdone. Then you unroll your tube of cinnamon buns, and unravel the buns that will be blessed with a slice of bacon.


Line up the bacon on top of your unraveled bun, and then roll that bad boy back up. Proceed with your cinnamon rolls as usual, and don’t forget the icing!


Genius, I know. Now it’s off to the rock gym! We’ll see how well I climb today with a belly full of bacon and cinnamon goodness – but it was totally worth it. Happy Sunday, readers!

Yes, that is a BACON-COVERED TURKEY.

Folks, there are two things that I truly love in life: feasting and bacon. I headed to the Boue family Thanksgiving dinner celebration anticipating a rowdy afternoon of Cuban ruckus, but what I ended up with was the most phenomenal turkey dinner I have ever tasted. Aside from the fact that Tia Mirti managed to burn my abuela’s precious black beans, our dinner was perfect. I almost had a heart attack when the glorious turkey was summoned from the oven – this enormous hunk of bird was smothered in crispy slices of thick bacon.

Yes, my friends - that is indeed a bacon encrusted turkey. Needless to say, I was overjoyed.

It may not be the most photogenic turkey, but let me tell you – that sucker was amazing. The bacon on the top was cooked to perfection, and the turkey seemed to absorb the juicy goodness of the pork. While I will continue to rave about this turkey for days to come, the true star of our thanksgiving feast was the avocado salad made with fresh picks from our backyard tree. There are few things more satisfying than eating fruit you’ve grown and plucked from your own tree.

My family's freshly made avocado salad, topped with chopped onions, olive oil and salt.

Aside from stuffing myself with good eats, I had a great day of family and friends. The afternoon began with a gathering of my Cuban relatives, which is always guaranteed to turn into a shenanigan. Between my cousin asking inappropriate questions and our youngest cousins making a giant mess with chocolate cupcakes, it was definitely a Thanksgiving to remember. After letting my belly settle down, I stopped by my second family’s house to surprise the Harringtons. I have never been greeted with such warmth and adoration in my life, Kurt and Dena are truly second parents to me.

I ended the evening at my friend Xue’s swanky new digs in downtown Miami on Biscayne Boulevard. As we passed a bottle of red wine around our cozy circle of comrades, Xue’s girlfriend and I demanded that everyone give thanks. My companions gave thanks for their health, their income, our friendship, families and feasting. I declared my gratitude for the following: the beautiful group of people that were surrounding me, my supportive family, avocados, the cityscape of Miami, nature and my love, Niko. What are you thankful for?

Mmm, bacon.

Thank you StumbleUpon, for this mind-blowing invention by Matty Sallin. I’ve already sent the link to Niko, begging him to please, please, PLEASE buy me one for our morning wake ups. His tacky cellphone alarm clock drives me insane every morning. It’s like a parade of tin cans at a rodeo.

Bacon, on the other hand, sounds like a lovely way to start the morning. I reckon my room might begin to stink though.

Hats off to you, Mr. Sallin – the world could use more bacon-minded individuals such as yourself.