Menu planning is fun, especially when you collaborate with others who can understand you and vice versa.
Maybe summer will bring me more bubbles…
(Open house at Headlands Center for The Arts )
(David Shrigley at Headlands Center for the Arts)
(On James Tucker’s ye ol’ boat Familia Santa)
When I was a little girl, I would dance and sing to this Saint Etienne song. Nothing much has changed, my love for this song. But, our challenges, barriers and difficulties, it’s scope is widened and is often masked by a dark veil. We’ll get over it. To become stronger and more vigilant in our approach to better ourselves and our lives. Nothing like hitting the play button a few more times, just don’t get sick of it yet.
Summer is coming. What will it bring? Berries, flowers, stone fruits, heat heat heat.
Be nice jerks…
(Lonely geetar in a corner)
I feel like taking a nap. Somewhere warm. Ocean breezes. Sea Air. YES YES and YES.
In between naps I usually need a little time to creatively purge. Events, baking bread w/ my own starter, and other experiments…
Special credit goes out to Barbara Caldwell for making some really really good pies.
For years now, I have spent many moments thinking about a milk broth.
This is my proudest moment with it yet.
Roast of Lean Pork. Spring Favas and Sweet Corn in a Milk Brodo steeped w/ Lemongrass and Leeks.[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YZJTJAM4G8]
We should find a way to make it all work out and get along…
Sometimes, shouldn’t get complicated. An unlikely and wonderful friendship happens when two creamy components come together.
Crunchy warm toast, coconut oil, avocado, olive oil, black pepper, sea salt…
What just happened??? A really great snack just happened. I spent the night at a friend’s house and she pulled out the ingredients listed above, among a random array of fruits and vegetables. Breakfast à la hung over girls happened.
It was strangely addictive.
I have to add ingredients really matter with this simple concoction. Coconut butter will not work. The neutral quality of coconut oil is the best when making this snack. I also recommend using a whole grain wheat or seeded bread to toast, a creamy & ripe avocado, flaked sea salt, a good olive oil, and fresh cracked pepper.
Coconut Oil and Avocado Toast
1. Toast Bread
2. Spread 1/2 T. Coconut Oil on toast while warm.
3. Spread ripe avocado.
4. Sprinkle lightly with flaked sea salt, fresh cracked pepper and a drizzle of a good olive oil.
Yum Yum Yum. Enjoy! I guess a recipe isn’t needed for something like this. What do you think?
I’m back. My first time traveling alone unraveled lots of insecurities and falsities that stresses in life have given me. I fell in love with Italy when it opened up to me, or was it when I opened up to it.
Unorganized, unplanned and it was just what I wanted. I encountered the traveler with just a ticket, the organized boutique traveler, the backpacker, the traveler to whom just wanted that passport littered with stamps, the lusty traveler, the party traveler, the farmer traveler, the other persona traveler…
Traveling is part relaxation, part adventure, and part learning about the people the places and the culture. Of course that always includes the food.
What traveler was I? I was the naïve traveler, the unorganized traveler, the lonely traveler, the one to be ignored, the voyeur. The one who really wanted to sit down in someones home and eat a home cooked meal.
Traveling unraveled itself in my 20’s when I worked as a waitress at a local Irish bar, I met countless people who backpacked, or traveled through Europe, Asia, South America. I vicariously lived through their stories and as my glazed eyes stared into space, I placed myself in a time when I could finally do this myself.
I flew into Heathrow and found out that my room in Rome was already rented, and that my money was refunded. There was no time to assess my surroundings, I had landed and planted myself at Roma Termini, and I quickly had a love hate affair with Rome. The train station slapped me in the face. My body felt weightless, like being suspended on a bed of clouds, still trying to take in the fact that I had no bed secured for the night…
I highly romanticized Rome, and thus far the act of the lonesome traveler…I had no idea what I would be expecting.
Freshly jet lagged and tired from carrying a heavy backpack through terminal after terminal, I was ready to tear up. Frustration peaked through and made me weak.
In my first Roman taxi, the driver questioned why I did not know the language and it was only then that I opened myself up tospeaking the language. My voice trembled and my adrenaline rushed when I told him “Io non capisco l’Italiano”, I felt like jumping out of the taxi and not paying him after that comment, but I understand. After coming across so many tourist that just speak English and don’t even make an effort, flocks of disrespectful tourist is a recipe for the angry taxi driver. To him I was just a number, until I made that effort.
In Italy… I met a stranger and together we ventured off to Cinque Terre and Venice, stayed at an all women’s hostel formerly ran by nuns sleeping in a room with 13 other women, then there were magical times like waking up to the sounds of church bells, hearing Italian children whining for their mothers in the early morning, beautiful seaside towns, Venetian alleys, seeing an a little old woman canning tomato sauce, but of course I also had encounters with aggressive men, sleeping at an airport, holding the frail hand of an Italian nonna, went to the hospital and got treated for dehydration in Milan, drinking prosecco and valpolicella while eating lunch with an Italian family, drinking lots of wine, trying horse meat, and donkey meat in one sitting, walking…walking…walking…pizza pizza …pasta… pasta…
It was in Milan and Verona that I felt the safest and the most at home. I can’t give thanks to Mateo and Valentina enough, I can’t tell you how much I fell in love with Dido, Antoinetta, Domenico, Anna, Nico, and their whole community of friends and family.
When asked what I would do differently, my response would be absolutely nothing…but it would have been nice to just have more money on the trip. Especially when I saw that hefty green wool Dries Van Noten coat that was heavily discounted at a little boutique in Verona. Most importantly after feeling so weak, I was able to gain back the strength that laid dormant after my father passed away.
While laying in bed I found myself planning my day…should I walk to the Duomo and head to the Pinacoteca today? Should I go walk to the park? What else can I do? Still in a bit of a dream state…still waking up. I miss most, the sounds of Italian conversations, and the hand gestures, and the cheeky kisses
I’ve gotten the bug.