Only for the lovely editors of Ed2010 (“a community of young magazine editors and magazine-editor wannabes who want to learn more about the industry so we can fulfill our dreams of landing top editing and writing positions”) did the half-baked bun and I traipse over to a poorly-lit-but-cozy East Village bar to speak about chasing your Manhattan dreams (Gawker and the haters be damned!) and succeeding in the city.

The 20 young women–bloggers, aspiring writers and “media-lites” (media beauties with substance and professional drive)–impressed me with their focus, their goals and their sense of self.

I’ll admit, it was a little strange giving advice at this point in my career. A William Morris demi-god like Cliff Roberts does not represent me and I’ve yet to garner a 7-figure paycheck for my writing efforts like a Diablo Cody or Lorene Scafaria. (I’m still stuck on yesterday’s Sunday Styles article… Cliff, gimme a call. There’s a killer Mommy-in-Manhattan screenplay tucked into my new diaper bag!)

But regardless of my place in the pecking order, these young women genuinely cared about what I had accomplished and learned during my 6 1/2 years in the city.

If I could give them one tip, what would it be?

PERSISTENCE.

And this.

He’s calm, cool, collected… and on fire! There’s a hot new chef on television and his name is James Briscione. (The fact that I’m carrying his baby has absolutely nothing to do with these accolades…)

Hubby was a champ last night and nailed his victory with a “beautifully composed [dessert] plate of sweet and spicy bacon with orange sabayon and shot of citrus juice.” (!!!)

“What are you going to do with your prize money?” Ted Allen asks.

“I’m putting it toward my new bride and our baby-to-be.”

Parker and I are very lucky girls.

(Viewing party at the Barrow Street Ale House. Nothing like soda and lime while 8+ months pregnant!)

I’ll be honest: these past months in the Brooke/Jamie household have been busy…and anxiety-ridden. “Stress Express” became one of my nicknames (thank you, Ellen) and I didn’t even argue.  BELLE book tour, baby news, secret wedding, family tensions, dubious friendships, a West Village move and an expanding belly-not to mention fanny-will do that to any girl.

But, somehow, along the way, Jamie and I kept working, shutting out (most) of the bad and moving toward the good. We worked through the difficult times before the honeymoon was even over… because that’s what families do, even the young ones who have just left the church and who suddenly find their envelopes addressed to “Mr. and Mrs.” I now realize that the promise of April was our inspiration. Spring and a baby.

But March has her charms…

And, in our book, charm can be spelled out in two words–FOOD NETWORK! Tonight, on the heels of our cookbook excitement, Jamie will make his Primetime television debut on Chopped (10pm/9c). He’ll sweat it out with three other top chefs and face a basket of crazy ingredients–not to mention studio lights, cameras and Ted Allen in his face (though Ted is totally adorable). I’ll say this –if someone gave me a basket of soda, macaroni & cheese and bacon I’d probably throw up my hands, hightail it to the bar at Balthazar and order a tray of French 75’s.

Here’s his Food Network confessional interview where he reveals, umm, his competitive (and fantasy sport?) side.

Life–and food television–are full of surprises. 

While vacationing in Morocco… we sold our first cookbook, JUST MARRIED AND COOKING!!!

Oh okay, fine, the pictures weren’t taken in Morocco but, instead, in our neck of the Gulf Coast. But it felt like we were worlds away in the sand and sun, eating lots of fish and taking in sunsets to last us through the final weeks of winter.

Meanwhile,the publishing world did its thing, Scribner extending us a fantastic offer, making us one very happy family-to-be. It looks like Parker Lee’s first days will be spent testing recipes, making compound butters and vegetable confit.

If our tome were headed to Hollywood, she’d be branded like this: The cheeky tone of Skinny Bitch in the Kitch meets the culinary simplicity and sophistication of Barefoot Contessa’s best. That, and throw in a cup of Jamie Oliver’s “kitchen ease,” expertise and creativity for good measure.

Keep reading my blog because the cookbook experiment will be documented here!

Nesting Syndrome is not a myth. Being able to see little elbows and feet grazing up against your belly, does a number on your priorities… Suddenly, I can’t get enough of home catalogues (or ABC Home & Carpet super sales), custom crib bedding, window treatments and natural fiber area rugs. (I can’t believe I can even string those words together–NATURALFIBERAREARUGS.)

Yesterday, I was ecstatic leaving Clio with Jamie, our new table “runner,” linen napkins and matching coffee mugs and sugar bowl in tow.

“Aren’t you thrilled, baby?! Now we’ll be coordinated when we drink coffee in the morning!”

My new husband looked at me like I was juuuust a little crazy…

And maybe I am.

I’m in my late 20’s, in the throes of transitioning from one life to the next and the space around me is suddenly so important. Maybe it’s my way of coping? In the span of 6 months time, Single-Carefree-Downtown-Writer (because we’re all hyphenated clichés in someone’s mind) became Young(ish)-Wife-and-Mother-to-Be. And this new, “adult” life just happens to come with a new, “adult” apartment.

Goodbye SoHo studio, hello West Village 2-bedroom.

From the nursery and from the master bedroom, we see the warm lights and rooftops of the West Village. The cement wonders of Union and Madison Square rise in the distance-the only reminder that our quiet street is ten minutes from chaos and worries. But I like this, being removed yet somehow still a part of it all. The skyline reminds me that I’m here, still trying to do something (whatever that something may be).

And the nursery is large enough to double as my home office. One end will be pink toile and plush toys while the other is hard angles, work and stacks of bills…

Every woman says she “wants it all.” But does she? Do I? Can I handle it?

(The artist certainly gave me a voluptuous bottom and shapely calves in the newspaper picture…)

“Book tour feels a lot like running from the law. A dozen cities, disinterested faces and dark, quiet nights make my life and Mom’s (she’s my partner-in-crime, you see) feel like a scene out of ‘Thelma & Louise…’”

Okay, fine, it wasn’t a hodown. Really, the hometown party was more like a TriBeCa loft party than a Southern shindig.

Mom’s favorite party ‘favor?’ The 8-foot tall likeness of me and the book cover. 

Meanwhile, my favorite taste of home included pulled pork nachos and fried oysters with remoulade sauce. I’ll never understand those girls who don’t eat at their own parties.