GoWithGuide US

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Let Me Introduce You to My Newest Affiliate Partner

Let me introduce you to my newest affiliate partner — and one I’m genuinely excited about. I’ve been learning more about GoWithGuide US, and I can’t wait to tell you a little about them. If you love exploring new places with someone who actually lives there, this is a service worth knowing.

GoWithGuide connects travelers with independent local guides who know the shortcuts, the hidden gems, the best food stops, and the stories you won’t find in any brochure. You choose the guide, the pace, and the experience — whether it’s a walking tour, a custom itinerary, or a full‑day adventure built around your interests.

Introducing GoWithGuide US an new affiliate partner for travelers

The best part? GoWithGuide isn’t pricey. Most tours cost less than what you’d pay for a crowded bus tour — and you get a private guide who actually tailors the day to you.

Affiliate Disclosure

This post contains affiliate links. If you book a tour through my link, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. As always, I only share services I genuinely think you’ll enjoy.

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→ Curious what kind of tours they offer? Browse GoWithGuide US here

 

The Great Chowder Divide

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Clam laden New England Chowder with it's cream base sets the stage for this culinary debate

Cream vs. Tomato, and the Day Massachusetts Nearly Legislated Soup

Let me start with a confession:
I don’t actually like clams.

There, I said it. Full transparency.
I’ll happily eat around them, enjoy the broth, dip the crackers, and savor the moment — but the clams themselves? They can stay in the bowl and live their best life without me.

And yet… here I am writing about chowder. Because chowder isn’t just about clams. It’s about identity, tradition, and one of the most passionate food debates New England has ever cooked up.

And yes — it was almost illegal to put tomatoes in it.

The 1939 Chowder Crisis: A Massachusetts Original

It didn’t come from rumor or restaurant gossip.
No whispered “my cousin’s friend swears this happened” stories.
This moment lives in the official records of the Massachusetts legislature.

In 1939, Representative Cleveland Sleeper of Rockport, Massachusetts introduced a bill to ban tomatoes from clam chowder. He believed the integrity of New England chowder was under threat, and he was ready to defend it with the full force of government.

Sleeper even staged a chowder cook‑off to prove his point:

  • One pot of classic, cream‑based New England chowder
  • One pot of tomato‑based Manhattan chowder

The cream version won — of course it did — and the bill quietly faded away. But the message was loud and clear:

In Massachusetts, chowder is white. Full stop.

New England Clam Chowder: The Creamy Classic

This is the chowder that tastes like home, even if you don’t like clams. It’s the bowl you want on a cold day when the wind is coming off the water sideways.

What makes it unmistakably New England:

  • A rich, creamy broth
  • Potatoes, onions, and clams
  • Salt pork or bacon for depth
  • Oyster crackers bobbing like tiny buoys

It’s cozy. There’s a familiar nostalgia to it. It’s the culinary equivalent of a wool sweater and a nor’easter warning.

 

Manhattan Clam Chowder: The Tomato Rebel

Then there’s the red one.

Manhattan chowder swaps cream for tomatoes, creating a broth that’s bright, tangy, and a little bold. It’s lighter, more vegetable‑forward, and honestly? Pretty delicious — even if you have to whisper that in certain Massachusetts zip codes.

What defines it:

  • Tomato‑based broth
  • Carrots, celery, herbs
  • A lighter, almost Mediterranean feel
  • Clams that stand out instead of hiding in cream

It’s not trying to be New England chowder. It’s doing its own thing — and doing it well.

So Which One Wins?

Here’s the truth, clam‑skeptic though I may be:

They’re both good — just in different ways.

  • New England chowder is for comfort, cold days, and tradition.
  • Manhattan chowder is for brightness, lightness, and a little rebellion.

It’s like comparing a snowstorm to a sunny day. Both have their place — though only one requires you to shovel your driveway.

Final Ladleful: You Be the Judge

I may not love clams, but I do love a good food debate — and chowder brings out the best of them. Whether you’re Team Cream, Team Tomato, or Team “I’ll just take the crackers,” chowder tells a story worth sharing.

Now it’s your turn:

Which chowder do you swear by?
Creamy New England?
Tomato‑bright Manhattan?
Or do you have a family version that breaks all the rules?

Drop your thoughts, opinions, and observations — I can’t wait to hear where you land in the Great Chowder Divide.

 

Bald Is Beautiful (But Not for Cat Furniture)

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Banner and Balboa exploring the new cat tree 2023

🐾 The Balding Cat Tree Chronicles

When Inspiration Hits at the Worst Possible Time

There are days when I can’t think of a single blog idea, and then there are days like today — when I’m running late, haven’t even finished my coffee, and suddenly inspiration hits me right between the eyes.

The Shocking Discovery

I walked past the cat tree and froze.
Not because a cat was dangling off it like a circus performer.
Not because someone had knocked it over again.
No.
Because the thing is bald.

 

I’m talking down to the plywood, like a bar of hotel soap that’s been used by every guest since 1998. The once‑fluffy carpeting is now a memory, a suggestion, a rumor. If you squint, you can almost imagine what it used to look like.

Gratitude… Sort Of

Now, logically, I should be thrilled. If Banner and Balboa are scratching the cat tree, they’re not scratching my furniture. That’s a win. A victory. A tiny miracle. I should be doing a celebratory lap around the living room.

But here’s the thing:
Cat trees are not cheap.
And being on a fixed income means I can’t just stroll into PetSmart, point at the deluxe model, and say, “Wrap it up, boys.”

The GoFundMe That Will Never Be

So naturally, my brain — helpful as ever — whispered,
“Maybe you should start a GoFundMe for a new cat tree.”
Don’t worry. I’m kidding.
(Probably.)

The Boys Take Credit

Meanwhile, Banner and Balboa are standing proudly beside their handiwork like tiny contractors who just completed a major renovation. If you ask them, the exposed wood is a design choice. Very modern. Very minimalist. Very ‘we did this on purpose, Mom.’

Balboa even sat on the top perch, surveying the room like a king on a throne made of splinters. Banner, of course, immediately tried to chew the corner, because why not add dental work to the list of future expenses.

Turning Chaos Into Content

So here I am, running late, staring at a cat tree that looks like it’s been through a war, and thinking, “Well… at least it’s a blog post.”

And honestly? That’s the joy of living with cats. They destroy things, they cost money, they shed on everything you own — and somehow, they still give you something to laugh about on a Tuesday morning when you’re already behind schedule.

Stay tuned. The boys are already eyeing the curtains, so I’m sure Part Two is coming.

 

The Reverse Sear: A New Englander’s Indoor Steak Victory

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Raw sirloin steak prepared for a reverse‑sear recipe, shown with garlic on parchment.

Life Before the Condo Rules

New Englanders are a hearty lot. Around here, there’s no such thing as “Grilling Season.” We grill in snowstorms, nor’easters, and the occasional blizzard just to feel alive. I was no different. I cooked everything on my Weber — steaks, turkeys, potatoes, corn, kabobs, chicken, fish. Honestly, I used my grill more than my stove.

Then I bought my condo.

It has a lovely west‑facing deck, and I pictured myself out there year‑round, happily grilling under shelter like a civilized cavewoman. What I didn’t picture was the fire code. Not only could I not grill on the deck, I couldn’t even store a grill there. The only allowed option was an electric grill and… well… if I’m going to cook on a glorified space heater, I might as well use my stove.

So began my quest: how do you cook a steak indoors that still satisfies the primal red‑meat urge?

My Cast Iron Era: The Classic Pan Sear

For years, my go‑to method was the classic pan sear in my beloved cast iron skillet. If you’ve never done it, here’s the quick version:

How a Traditional Pan Sear Works

  • Heat a cast iron skillet until it’s smoking hot.
  • While it heats, coat your steak lightly in vegetable oil, salt, and pepper.
  • Lay the steak in the pan — you’ll get that glorious sizzle and a puff of smoke that could set off every alarm in the building.
  • Sear for a couple of minutes on the first side to build a crust, then flip and repeat.
  • Remove from heat and let it rest while you prep your sides.

It’s fast, it’s flavorful, and it gives a great crust. But it also fills the kitchen with smoke, and the inside of the steak can go from rare to overcooked in a heartbeat.

Lately, I wanted something better — something more steakhouse‑level without steakhouse prices.

And that’s when I found it.

Enter: The Reverse Sear

I’m only one person, and after years of dieting, I can’t eat a whole steak in one sitting. So when Hannaford’s had one of their rare steak sales, I grabbed a nice sirloin for $13. It was small, so I got three good cuts out of it — just $4.33 per meal. That’s a win.

Now I just needed the perfect cooking method.

Reverse sear won by a landslide. Tender, evenly cooked, beautifully crusted — every time. I’m hooked.

Here’s how to do it.

How to Reverse Sear a Steak (No Grill Required)

Step 1: Prep Your Steak

  • Start with a thick cut — at least 1.5 inches.
  • Pat it completely dry.
  • Season generously with kosher salt and pepper.
  • Add garlic powder or any spices you love.
  • Place on a wire rack (I use my air fryer basket).

Step 2: Slow Cook

  • Preheat your oven to 250°–275°F.
  • Place the steak on the rack over a baking sheet.
  • Bake for 30–50 minutes, until the internal temp reaches 115°F for rare.
    • My smaller steaks usually hit this around the 30‑minute mark.

Step 3: High‑Heat Sear

  • Heat your cast iron skillet over high heat until it just starts to smoke.
  • Add a high‑smoke‑point oil (canola, vegetable, avocado).
  • Sear the steak 60–90 seconds per side until a deep brown crust forms.

Step 4: Rest and Serve

Because the steak cooked low and slow, it barely needs resting. A minute or two is plenty.

Notes & Tips

  • Many recipes suggest salting the steak and leaving it uncovered in the fridge for up to 24 hours. I haven’t tried it, but it’s supposed to improve the crust. If you test it, report back.
  • If you don’t mind smoke, add a pat of butter during the sear for extra flavor — just know it will burn.
  • A probe thermometer is essential to avoid overcooking before the sear.
  • A dry, heavy skillet (cast iron is best) gives the best crust. Make sure it’s screaming hot.
  • Add aromatics (butter, garlic, herbs) during the last minute of the sear and baste for extra flavor.

Regular Sear vs. Reverse Sear

You be the judge. I know which one I prefer — and I’d love to hear which method wins in your kitchen.

 

THE FURRY AND THE RESTLESS

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In a world where cardboard boxes hold power, alliances shift like sunbeams, and brothers battle for territory, a new saga emerges. Premiering today on Cat TV: The Furry and the Restless. The pilot episode is already causing a stir in living rooms everywhere — and you, dear reader, get the first look.

Balboa’s beloved cardboard retreat, the emotional support box whose invasion sparked the dramatic events of this episode of The Furry and the Restless.

The cardboard box Balboa claims as his personal fortress — the scene of the great kitty soap‑opera showdown.

 

⭐ THE SCRIPT — THE FURRY AND THE RESTLESS: Episode 1 — The Box Betrayal

[Opening Narration]
In a quiet condo in Taunton, two brothers navigate love, betrayal, and the fragile politics of shared cardboard real estate. This… is The Furry and the Restless.

 

 

Scene 1: The Living Room — Early Afternoon

Balboa lounges regally on Deborah’s lap, purring like a villain plotting something tender.

Balboa (internal monologue):
“At last… peace. My sanctuary awaits. It’s my box and my fortress. My emotional support cardboard. Soon I shall retire to it and contemplate my greatness.”

Banner wanders in with the energy of someone who has never once considered consequences.

Banner:
“Oh look. A box.”

He steps in. He settles. The paper crinkles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Balboa (eyes widening):
“…No. No. NO.”

Scene 2: The Betrayal

Balboa launches off Deborah’s lap like a furry missile fired from a catapult.

Balboa:
“ABSOLUTELY NOT! THAT IS MY SANCTUARY!”

Deborah (caught in the crossfire):
“BALBOA—! OH FOR THE LOVE OF—”

Banner (blinking slowly):
“…What?”

Chaos erupts. A dramatic zoom‑in on Balboa’s betrayed face.

 

Scene 3: The Confrontation

Balboa circles the box like a panther circling a rival king.

Balboa:
“You dare enter my cardboard kingdom? My sacred retreat? My PAPER‑LINED HAVEN?”

Banner:
“I just… sat down.”

Balboa:
“You have violated the Treaty of Cardboardia!”

Banner:
“I didn’t know there was a treaty.”

Balboa:
“There is NOW.”

 

Scene 4: Deborah Attempts Peace Talks

Deborah stands between them like a weary UN diplomat.

Deborah:
“Gentlemen. Please. It’s a box.”

Balboa:
“A BOX OF GREAT EMOTIONAL SIGNIFICANCE.”

Banner:
“…It’s comfy.”

Deborah:
“Banner, honey, maybe try the OTHER box?”

Banner:
“There’s another box?”

Balboa:
“NOT THAT ONE EITHER.”

Scene 5: The Aftermath

Balboa retreats to the top of the cat tree, glaring down like a dethroned monarch plotting revenge.

Balboa (dramatically):
“I have been wronged. I shall scream at 3 PM to express my suffering.”

Banner (already napping):
“Okay.”

My Box

Deborah (sighing):
“And so it begins…”

End of Episode 1

Next time on The Furry and the Restless:
Will Balboa reclaim his cardboard throne?
Will Banner accidentally start another war?
Will Deborah ever get through a day without feline drama?

Stay tuned.