Reading · Nicole’s Substack

The first track meet of the season is never casual. It’s an all-day event. Baking hot sun. Cut up Florida oranges. Parents pacing like assistant coaches. Teenagers pretending they’re not nervous while clearly very nervous. You pack snacks like you’re preparing for a small expedition and then you settle in for the long haul, or at least until your kids are done.

And I loved every minute of it.

Gabriella got second in the two-mile. She ran steady and controlled, the kind of race where you can feel the discipline in every lap. I loved watching her and I loved being there, fully present, watching her manage her mind and her body in real time.

Adrian competed in several field events, including shot put, and also ran the high hurdles. Completely different energy. Explosive one minute, technical the next. Watching him line up, shake out his arms, get quiet before the start — it hits me every time. There’s something about seeing your son step into who he’s becoming that makes you sit a little straighter on in the stands.

These meets are long. Truly long. But I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

Next week Gabriella turns 17.

Seventeen.

Only one more birthday before 18 after this. It’s hard to believe and exciting and emotional all at once.

And in the same week, she made a decision that impressed me even more than the medal. She chose to stop doing ballet after so many years. She realized she’s doing too many things and she just wasn’t enjoying it anymore. She recognized the pressure she was putting on herself and how it was taking the joy out of it.

There was no drama. No quitting energy. Just clarity.

Choosing joy over pressure at 16 is not small

Evan and I went to Latitudes for an early Valentine’s dinner - the first of many for years to come. We sat right on the water under an umbrella while it rained. Not a drizzle — real rain. The kind that softens everything around you.

It was the epitome of romance and relaxation.

The seafood was some of the best I’ve had in Florida in quite some time, and what made it stand out wasn’t theatrics — it was restraint:

Perfectly cooked fish
Clean seasoning
Proper acidity
No unnecessary sauce distractions

When product is that good, you don’t need anything else.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I’ll say what I actually believe: every girl deserves flowers and something sweet — even if it’s a last-minute supermarket or CVS stop. A handwritten card makes all the difference. It doesn’t need to be elaborate. It just needs to feel intentional

Anna and I ate at Double Knot, which I’ve been wanting to try for a while. The food was delicious, a perfect treat after we recorded our latest podcast episode, which drops on International Women’s Day, March 8th. That will also be the one-year anniversary of her launching the I Want Her Shoes podcast.

And it’s worth remembering where we were when we started.

She was still in her marriage and ready to forge ahead on a new chapter in her career. I was living in a home where tranquility and contentment were always a challenge to find. Not because there wasn’t love — there was — but because the rhythm of that house made it hard to feel settled.

That first podcast we recorded together gave me something that made me start to feel like ME again. A month later, I started this newsletter.

Which makes this Edition 50!!!

It’s never too late to embrace your dreams. You don’t have to wait for the perfect chapter. Sometimes you start because you need an anchor in the middle of transition.

This upcoming episode is about exactly that — transition. Her divorce. Me navigating life differently. We talked about staying in touch with your sexuality during your toughest seasons. About big circles versus little circles of friends. About what intimacy actually looks like as an adult.

And yes, we talked about sex toys. And whether size matters.

It does.

Not in a teenage way. In a real-life, grown-woman way.

Dinner was delicious — so dark we could barely see what we were eating — but the next day I was insanely inflamed. Tons of salt? Maybe MSG? I don’t know. But I’m paying attention more than I used to.

We watched the Super Bowl alongside a spectacular buffet at Addison Reserve Country Club, and it was such a special night. The food was abundant, the energy easy, and my kids met Evan’s dad and his stepmom Rhonda. It felt natural. Warm. Like we ad spent time all together many times before, at one point I heard Evan’s Dad tell him how much he loved having the kids there and spending time as a family, it melted my heart right there before the Bad Bunny Halftime concert that Nobody in the room knew the words to except our Miami contingent. Age and Culture were OBVIOUSLY a factor!! Giggle. That night felt like the beginning of a significant relationship that will be grow deeper for years to come.

On the drive home, Ella slept the entire way. Adrian and I talked nonstop. He introduced me to new musical artists he wants to make music like. We talked about life, the future, the past. He was open and happy and thoughtful. It was one of those moments you don’t realize is significant until you’re in it.

Blending families is nuanced. Different histories. Different rhythms. Therapy — family, couples, even friendships — only works if both people actually want to change. You can’t drag someone into growth.

And you also have to look at yourself honestly and ask where the version of you you’re living as doesn’t fully align with the version you want to be.

That gap is the real work.

I’ve been making a conscious effort to eat better lately — not in a rigid way, just small better choices.

An egg instead of a bagel.
A quick chicken and cucumber salad instead of a “healthy” chip or cookie.
More protein. More vegetables.

Keeping myself satiated has been the most important piece. I’m trying to stay off sweets — except the occasional Ice Cream with all the toppings from Brendy’s because I just love it.

Even at the buffet, I focused on the plethora of proteins and vegetables. Not restrictive. Just aware.

Avocados are non-negotiable right now. Always buy them underripe — but not too underripe, because then they’ll never become what you want. And once they’re ready, eat them that minute. A few hours can make all the difference. The window is small.

Persian cucumbers are my favorite — crunchy, sweet, clean. European seedless if you want elegance. Kirby for pickling or juicing.

Vinegars I love:

O Champagne Citrus or Sherry Vinegar — layered and bright
Pommery apple cider vinegar — sharp, alive, almost drinkable

Simple ingredients. Treated correctly. Always

Water matters more than people realize. When you like the water you’re drinking, you drink more of it.

Still

Saratoga Spring Water — crisp, clean
Aqua Panna — soft, silky
Volvic — balanced, understated (you don’t find it often in the US
Fiji - I love it and also, unfortunately it has the worst carbon footprint of them all
Liquid Death - LOVE LOVE LOVE the marketing, the water itself is just Okay

Sparkling

Perrier — sharp, big bubbles, a little salty
San Pellegrino — rounder, small bubbles, a gentle effervescence
Topo Chico — aggressively bubbly, stays fizzy open on your nightstand for over 12 hours
La Croix — flavor dependent, HUGE Fizz factor, and unfortunately filled with additives that don’t sit well on the tummy

And a Shoutout to my Stanley Cup — inspired by Ella — makes me drink so much more because it keeps it cold, I love my water ice cold all day long.

Cold water wins.

If you’re buying chocolate this week, buy something that tastes like intention.

Jacques Torres Chocolate — classic and polished
Kee’s Chocolates — intimate and beautifully crafted
La Maison du Chocolat — refined and balanced
If you must go to Walgreens - Forrero Roche or a Lindt Chocolate sea Salt Bar are WAY BETTER than the Russel Stovers they only sell at this time of year

No gimmicks. Just mastery

I’ve been reading a lot about how the next generation will happily spend $9 on a ceremonial-grade matcha without blinking — but doesn’t want the choreography that sometimes comes with formal dining.

They still want great meals. They care deeply about quality. They’ll research the chef. They’ll study the sourcing. They’ll fly somewhere for the right omakase.

What they don’t want is hierarchy.

They don’t want stiffness. They don’t want to feel talked down to. And they definitely don’t want their server performing deference like it’s 1952.

They want the person bringing their food to feel like someone who actually eats there. Someone who has opinions. Someone who talks to them, not at them.

That’s a real shift.

When I was growing up in the 80s and 90s, fine dining still had this undercurrent of distance. White tablecloth meant formality. Formality meant status. Status meant silence and posture and knowing which fork to use without asking.

Now? Knowledge is accessible. Information is everywhere. Guests are educated. They’ve watched the documentaries. They’ve read the Substacks. They know what dry-aged means.

They’re not looking for intimidation. They’re looking for connection.

At the same time — and this is important — older guests are still high-maintenance AF. In Boca, that expectation of service hierarchy isn’t disappearing overnight. It may be handled differently than in New York or Miami, but it’s not gone.

So we’re in this interesting in-between moment.

Hospitality used to be about power distance.

Now it’s about emotional intelligence.

The next generation doesn’t want to be served. They want to be understood.

And if you can deliver warmth without losing excellence, that’s the sweet spot.

That’s the future.

My upcoming restaurant is starting to take shape in a way that feels intentional and deeply considered. Every detail — from service rhythm to sourcing to how the room shifts from aperitivo to late evening — is being built around connection. High quality without intimidation. A place where you walk in and exhale. Where the spritz is perfect, the olives matter, and the person pouring your wine actually knows why they love it.

💌 Edition 50

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