Instagram story viewer> @barbpinto> Posts

Barbpinto

@barbpinto

1.1K

followers

1586

following

POSTS STORIES REELS TAGGED

Download All

I ate more than I photographed, but here are some of the highlights from Croatia and Montenegro. Oysters and mussels freshly harvested from the bay of Ston, tuna 2 ways: raw— and cooked with prunes, tomato, wine and spices in a traditional and amazingly delicious dish called “pasticada” (thank you Chef Mario and @hajagamulin for inviting us to your home for cooking class),a cloud of meringue and cream with shaved chocolate—also made by @hajagamulin , octopus, cured meats, fresh anchovies and sea fennel, and another dish I’m still dreaming about called Sporki Makaruli (translation: dirty macaroni) —a riff on beef bolognese with a hint of cinnamon. Plus, the terrific local wine. (Growers here are quick to point out that all of the grapes used to make California Zinfandels can be genetically traced to Croatia) by @barbpinto

27

3

11 days ago

Last stop: Montenegro. Well worth the hours-long wait at the border. Charming coastal villages, Perast and Kotor, tucked between the soaring mountains and the sea, beautiful beaches, watercolor sunsets, and—of course—cats. by @barbpinto

32

1

11 days ago

More from the history-rich Dalmatian Coast and Adriatic: Brac, Korcula, Pokleni Islands, Hvar & Dubrovnik. The resilience of people and this place is remarkable after centuries of war—the latest of which ended in the 90’s. On a lighter note, our Croatian kayak guide’s proof —in ink—of America’s (at least New Jersey via Hollywood) global impact. by @barbpinto

40

5

13 days ago

by @barbpinto

6

1

15 days ago

by @barbpinto

54

7

15 days ago

Scenes from the commute: a dose of middle-aged reality from the United Airlines lounge. by @barbpinto

8

0

22 days ago

Great way to start the week! by @barbpinto

5

1

a month ago

The rumble rattled me awake. I was living in Nyack, New York on the Hudson River—just a few miles north of New York City. There was always a dull hum air traffic overhead, but not like this. The low-flying plane shook me out of sleep, windows chattering in their casings from the vibration. It was my day off and I was doing something novel—sleeping in.
I was still groggy when the phone rang. It was my friend Joe DeWitt telling me a plane had hit the world trade center. I turned on the TV, hoping it might have been an accident when minutes later, with Joe on the line, we both watched the horrific split-second that told the world it wasn’t.
The rest of the day was a confusing blur in slow motion as the dust of unimaginable tragedy settled on our shoulders. The bridges were closed. There was no way to get into the City to do any reporting, so those of us “stranded” across the river watched together, powerless. My friend Adriana Mojocoa and I sat in front of the TV screen we should have been reporting on, watching in disbelief as the towers fell, unable to pull ourselves away from the devastating story unfolding in a place that was so close and so far away. We knew so many people who worked in those towers. We regularly worked there too, interviewing some of the financial experts whose offices crumbled that day. We wept for them, and for those we didn’t know who may have hopped off the PATH train that September morning, picked up a coffee and a BEC from the pushcart on John Street and made their way to work under the bluest cloudless sky—never imagining what the day would hold. We cried tears of joy when my friend John—on his way to work a few blocks away from the towers—walked through the door. The days that followed were a blur of devastation and hope and longing. It’s impossible to believe that 25 years have passed. #neverforget911🇺🇸🗽❤️🇺🇸 by @barbpinto

24

0

a month ago

The rumble rattled me awake. I was living in Nyack, New York on the Hudson River—just a few miles north of New York City. There was always a dull hum air traffic overhead, but not like this. The low-flying plane shook me out of sleep, windows chattering in their casings from the vibration. It was my day off and I was doing something novel—sleeping in.
I was still groggy when the phone rang. It was my friend Joe DeWitt telling me a plane had hit the world trade center. I turned on the TV, hoping it might have been an accident when minutes later, with Joe on the line, we both watched the horrific split-second that told the world it wasn’t.
The rest of the day was a confusing blur in slow motion as the dust of unimaginable tragedy settled on our shoulders. The bridges were closed. There was no way to get into the City to do any reporting, so those of us “stranded” across the river watched together, powerless. My friend Adriana Mojocoa and I sat in front of the TV screen we should have been reporting on, watching in disbelief as the towers fell, unable to pull ourselves away from the devastating story unfolding in a place that was so close and so far away. We knew so many people who worked in those towers. We regularly worked there too, interviewing some of the financial experts whose offices crumbled that day. We wept for them, and for those we didn’t know who may have hopped off the PATH train that September morning, picked up a coffee and a BEC from the pushcart on John Street and made their way to work under the bluest cloudless sky—never imagining what the day would hold. We cried tears of joy when my friend John—on his way to work a few blocks away from the towers—walked through the door. The days that followed were a blur of devastation and hope and longing. It’s impossible to believe that 25 years have passed. #neverforget911🇺🇸🗽❤️🇺🇸 for by @barbpinto

38

2

a month ago

Good morning by @barbpinto

21

2

a month ago

Chicken&waffles flavored Oreos?!?? by @barbpinto

1

0

a month ago

Happy birthday to my partner in crime! Thanks for frog-marching me to spin class and keeping me relatively sane. Here’s to another year of cats and cappuccinos! by @barbpinto

13

1

2 months ago