Ladybugs and Failbread

Yesterday at work I greeted a table and told them my name. The man at the table said "Whew, am I glad you're not blonde!". "Uh, why's that?" I asked. "Because I know someone else named Ashley and she's blonde. That would just be weird." No sir, it is you who is weird. I'm pretty sure every 5th girl born the year I was is named Ashley. Get over it.

Anyway, I got off work last night around 12:40. I drove home, went to my fridge, and checked on my bag of ladybugs to make sure they were all still wiggling. What's that? Oh yes, I forgot to tell you I had a bag of ladybugs in my fridge. Sorry about that, 1500 ladybugs to be exact. It's not really a long story or anything - I just got an aphid infestation on my beautiful lettuce and I bought some ladybugs to help control the bad bugs. You keep the ladybugs in the fridge because it makes them want to crawl instead of fly when you let them out, and you release them at night for the same reason. So I draped a bed sheet over my lettuce plants, cut the top off of their little mesh bag and watched with interest/mild horror as a swarm of tiny red beetles began to coat my patio. For a while I sat with them, picking up the ones that were heading towards the screen door and placing them on the most aphid covered leaves, however, pretty soon there were just too many of them to keep track of so I covered them all with the sheet and went to bed. I wish there had been enough light to snap some pictures when I released them - it was quite a sight.



By morning most of them had found their way out of the container, and the rest I freed. There were plenty all over my salad mix, and slightly fewer aphids than before, but there were also little guys hanging out on most of my other plants and they were forming clusters on the balcony railing. I hope they hang out for a while. They're cool, but I got tired of watching them bumble around after a bit.

Today was supposed to be bread making day. Well, technically it was, I mean, I spent all day doing it, but with no success. I found a recipe for some "easy" ciabatta bread that I could knead with my Kitchen Aid. Excited to make my first loaves of real bread (banana bread doesn't count, it's too easy) I rushed out to Trader Joe's and bought a few interesting spreads and some sandwich fixin's. Once home I threw the ingredients in the mixer and let it go to work, waiting for the dough to start setting up so I could change the mixing attachment. Now, this should have happened after 4 minutes. Not yet... still waiting. 10 minutes. 15. 20. What the heck? I stopped the mixer and checked the dough - no consistency change whatsoever. I browsed over the comments on the website trying to figure out what could have gone wrong? I decided to proof one of my other packets of dry yeast (which should still have a year left before it expires) and found that it was dead. Great. Another trip to the store. This time I bought some foccacia and a baguette just in case. The guy at the checkout counter laughed at me for buying yeast and 2 loaves of bread, and told me to just tell everyone I baked the foccacia.

Back at home I cleaned my mixer, threw out the first batch and started with a new one, measuring very carefully and this time, turning the speed down on the mixer a bit to allow the gluten to develop, and of course proofing the yeast first. 10 minutes in it seemed like the dough was climbing the paddle a little bit, but then nothing happened. I switched to the hook and found that only the dough on the paddle was tough and stretchy, but none of the rest of it. I let the hook do it's thing, but after another 20 minutes of beating at medium speed it was still as thin as pancake batter. I decided to forget about having perfect ciabatta bread and that I would settle for saving the flour and yeast, so I scooped the super sticky dough out, added a bunch of flour and kneaded until it held together, and then covered it to proof for an hour and a half. By 7:30 it had not grown at all. But the yeast was alive! So what happened? I still have no idea. I'll work on this recipe later, but for now I've wasted more than 4 cups of flour and I'm sick of bread making. So much for knowing my way around the kitchen.

I had to use up all of those spreads I bought, so I stuffed some lovely Belgian endives with them and made tofurky sandwiches with the foccacia to have along with a quick Greek-ish-inspired salad. It was a good enough substitute. And I love endives, they're so perfect and delicate - they look like they must be hiding some sneaky treasure inside.



Greek-ish-inspired salad

1 bunch asparagus, trimmed, lightly steamed and cut into 1 inch pieces
1/2 cup red and yellow cherry tomatoes, quartered
1/4 cup kalamata olives, sliced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced small
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
a few garlic scapes, washed and sliced small
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
zest from 1 lemon
S & P

Mix vegetables in a bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and add a splash or two of vinegar. Add black pepper and salt to taste - not too much. Add zest and feta and mix it all up. Dream of the impending summer while eating straight out of the mixing bowl.

xoxo

me

*yawn*

Mrmphh. It's early. Up at 6 and it's tough to tell what kind of day it will be today. At this point it is nothing outside. Really, that's the only way I can describe it. The sky has no visible outline of clouds, it's just a flat sheet of almost white. No wind, no birds chirping, it's not even cold. It's like a void out there. A good day to leave the blinds closed and make some breakfast.

I don't usually get up this early by choice, but our friend Amy is bringing by little 5 month old Aiden for me to watch for a few hours and I wanted to make sure they didn't catch me still snoozing.

Anyway, breakfast. It's the only thing that will keep me awake right now. My one person menu this morning includes mini quiches, a single serving of herbed potatoes and plenty of caffeine in the form of my current favorite tea. The only thing that could complete this moment is lounging on the couch and watching last night's Top Chef Masters on my DVR.



These mini quiches are adapted from an old Orangette post and the tart shell is from the Fannie Farmer Cookbook. They are perfectly eggy and fluffy with a flaky, salty crust. This was a bit of a clean-out-the-fridge recipe, but you can throw pretty much anything into a quiche.

Mini Breakfast Quiches

Crust:

1 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 (1/4 lb) stick salted butter, cold and cut into small pieces
1 egg yolk
2 tbsp ice water

Filling:

1 1/4 cup whole milk
4 eggs
1 tbsp flour
pinch of salt
pinch of cayenne
pinch of nutmeg

Broccoli florets, cut small and steamed
1 cup shredded cheese (I used mozzarella, just use whatever you have)
1 bunch chives, finely chopped
black pepper

Make the tart dough first, press into tins and refrigerate while making the filling. Dough should be kept as cold as possible - if the butter in it melts it won't be flaky.

Mix the flour and salt in a bowl. Cut the butter in with your fingers, mixing and squishing until the mixture resembles tiny peas. Whisk the egg yolk and water together in another bowl and add to first mixture, blending (or finger squishing) until mixture is smooth and holds together in a ball. Press into tins or 1 big quiche dish and trim off the edges. Set aside in the fridge.

For the filling blend the milk, eggs, flour, salt, cayenne and nutmeg on medium speed for 2-3 minutes. Set aside.

Add the toppings to the tart shells - 1 layer of broccoli, 1 layer of cheese, alternating until you reach the top. Or just throw it all in there and cover it with cheese like I did. Pour the egg filling into the tins leaving 1/8th of an inch before the top. sprinkle chives and ground black pepper over the top and make 'em look pretty.

Bake at 375°F for 30-35 minutes until puffed up with nice toasty brown spots. Let cool for a few minutes before eating.

xoxo

me

Early figs

I remember the first time I saw a fig. I was 16 and working at a buffet restaurant. It was a slow day and my Persian manager came through the door overly excited, bearing a huge bag of purple fruit. They were strange, almost alien to me - fat, squishy little things, with thick, silky skin. He was telling everyone about how figs are everywhere in the Mediterranean, but that he hadn't seen any since he moved here, and now his neighbor had shared some from the tree in his backyard. He sliced a few open and passed them around for people to try. We were all skeptical. In fact, I don't think anyone tasted one. "It looks like an inside out caterpillar", I said. "It looks like an inside out something", muttered the day manager. Eventually our boss gave up, grumbling things about how we were all crazy. It was years before I gave figs a chance - cautiously scattering them through a recipe that called for twice as much as I added. But one bite and I was hooked. Sadly it had been the end of fig season, or I would have used them on everything.

Figs are and end of summer fruit. This year as the trees have been filling out with green and stone fruits and baby squash have been increasing in abundance at the grocery store I have been excitedly anticipating the first figs of the year. So I was surprised when meandering through the aisles at Central Market I saw a stack of little plastic boxes overflowing with black mission figs. How did they sneak up on me so early?! After bringing them home and tasting a few I found that they still had a few green spots and were lacking the syrupy sweetness that figs have in August or September. So it isn't quite fig season yet after all. I hate to waste a whole container of figs, so I decided to roast them with honey to bring out their sweetness. This isn't exactly a summery tart, but the combination of sweet figs and caramelized onions with salty-sour chèvre and a hint of thyme is delicious enough to make me want to eat the whole thing in one sitting.



Fig and Onion Tart

1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
2 table spoons butter
2-3 large onions, sliced thinly
a few springs of thyme, plus garnish
6-8 ripe figs, quartered
3oz chèvre
honey to drizzle
small handful of pine nuts

Melt butter in a large (not non-stick) skillet on medium-low heat and add onions. Stir occasionally, scraping browned onion from the bottom of the pan until onions are very soft and dark in color. Turn heat down if onions are crisping or browning too fast. This takes roughly 20 minutes. Towards the end, strip the leaves off of the thyme sprigs and crush lightly between fingers as you add them to pan. At this point you may add a little salt and pepper to taste if you like.

In a small skillet add a tiny amount of oil, and grease pan with paper towel. Heat to medium-high and add pine nuts, watching closely and shaking the skillet until they are browned. This takes only a minute.

Press puff pastry into one large, shallow tart pan, or several small tins. Spread onions evenly over the pastry. Then add figs and crumbles of chèvre across the top. Drizzle tart with honey and sprinkle on the pine nuts. Fold the edges of the pastry slightly around the tart.

Bake at 400°F for 15-20 minutes until the puff pastry is lightly browned. Garnish with thyme and eat hot.

xoxo

me

Long weekend, long post.

My birthday was Tuesday, but the real present was this weekend. A few weeks ago hubby told me that he had been planning a surprise trip for me for my birthday, and asked me to make sure I got the days off, but he wouldn't tell me anything else. I waited patiently while those weeks passed, but of course my curiosity was getting the better of me and I pestered him with tons of questions. I had been psyching myself out with ideas of where we might be going - he implied that it was a bit of a drive, but ruled out Portland, the San Juans and Vancouver B.C., though I knew we were going to something that required formal dress, so I was stumped. I thought it would have been unreasonable to expect that he had snuck enough money from our bank account to purchase plane tickets, but the girls at work insisted I must be going to Hawaii or somewhere glamorous. The day finally came, and we threw our luggage into the car and took off down I-5 only to stop after just a few exits. Where were we going? Seattle!

Yes, Seattle. I was wracking my brain so hard trying to think of where we could be traveling to that I ignored the destination right next door. Now, I've lived in this area all of my life, and spent a lot of time downtown, but I've never done a lot of the tourist-y things to do in the city simply because they were, well, tourist-y! It ended up being the perfect trip - not so far away that I was stressed about being too far from the bun-bun, but possibly more fun than another city that we don't know because we were comfortable finding our way around, and we knew what to expect. The whole thing was lovely, and very relaxing. Read on if you'd like to hear the details!

Our mini-vacation started by pulling up to the trendy W Hotel and making our way upstairs to check out our room. We stayed in the corner suite on the 19th floor with so many windows that the gorgeous views of the city were inescapable.





After we were satisfied by seeing how many peoples' windows we could peer into we headed down to kill some time with a little wandering. We meandered through the Pike
Place market, stopping at Crêpe de France where we noshed on a Goat's cheese special (crêpe filled with goat's cheese, spinach, tomatoes and green onions) and a crêpe aux fraises chocolat (filled with strawberries, nutella and whipped cream). Afterward we walked over to Westlake Center to buy me a few pretty birthday presents (I love getting to pick my own gifts!) and kill time before our late dinner. This time killing resulted in another snack - one of the most delicious things I've ever gotten from a mall food court. Potato and pea stuffed paratha bread with a side of spinach dal.

The destination of the evening - Seattle Center via the monorail. I can't remember if I've ever ridden the monorail before, but if I ever did it was before E.M.P. was built which it runs straight through. Pretty cool. It was interesting to see the city from a different angle. Speaking of seeing the city, dinner was at the Space Needle, another thing I've never experienced. My expectations of the most recognizable icon in Seattle, visited by more than 1 million people yearly, were that the food would be overpriced and over-hyped, with a nod to the decade in which it was built (it opened in 1962) in the form of fat Filet Mignon topped with curly parsley, and scant vegetarian fare. The gift shop at the bottom welcomed us with exactly what I expected - T-shirts emblazoned with "Space Needle" in every possible font, and chintzy gifts ranging from keychains to shotglasses to stopwatches to pasta shaped like the Needle itself (space noodles of course!). However, I was wrong about the restaurant.

People are shuffled into a small elevator - crammed in until noses are practically squished against the glass, and a woman's hairspray mingles with a man's bad cologne as the little glass box turns into a stinking rainforest. An elevator operator squeezes in, occupying the last foot of space, and presses the button to go, and suddenly the walls around the box fall away to reveal buildings, streets, and a dusky blue-pink skyline above. Zoning out watching the ascent - it feels like an airplane take-off - or maybe a space shuttle as I believe it's supposed to be simulating. The view is brief, but breathtaking. The doors ding open and you are ushered out by a woman with a fake smile as large as her head who reminds you of a certain airplane steward (uh buh-bye). As you wait for your table you are given a few minutes to wrap your mind around the fact that while the elevator, waiting room and windows of the circular building are stationary, the entire outer ring of the room is moving, slowly, steadily, just sliding along like a giant moving sidewalk. "Watch your step", says the host as she walks you over to a small banquet facing the enormous windows. You scoot across the cushion and take your seat, trying to get over the momentary motion sickness while simultaneously taking in the fact that you're 500 feet off the ground looking at an amazing landscape of glittering lights and water engulfed in pale dusk.

The restaurant still has a 1960's vibe. I can imagine sitting here witnessing a room crowded with women - big blonde hair and cat's eyes, and men - big lapels and thick glasses, while crunching on my requisite sprig of parsley. But the servers, the menu, the view are distinctively modern. We are greeted by a knowledgeable waiter with a charming Germanic accent who brings us a bottle of Basel Cellars Forget-Me-Not Sauvignon Blanc and takes our order. Of course our vegetarian options are limited, but we are easily accommodated right off the menu. To start - pecan crusted goat's cheese with a spinach salad and Cabernet-blackberry vinaigrette, and bread with maple lavender infused butter. Then a main course of a crisp and flaky on the outside, soft and creamy on the inside spring vegetable gatêau, perfectly steamed asparagus, and more veggies roasted on a thin plank of cedar. The food was delicious and well-prepared using seasonal ingredients. By the time we are done we have made a rotation and a half view of the city, and we are too full to even consider dessert. We waddle downstairs with our fat bellies and suffer through the hike back to the hotel.

Saturday morning began with the walk down to the market again for a stop at Le Panier ("A very French bakery"). They have an expansive menu of pastries, both sweet and savory, and I was glad for my food knowledge to be able to navigate the French names despite not speaking the language. We sampled my first pain au chocolat (it's love), a perfectly crunchy crudités sandwich and two small savory pastries - champignon (mushroom), and dauphinois which had potatoes and ham I didn't notice until I bought it, but was so good I scarfed it down anyway. I will have dreams of those perfect little pastries for years.

After breakfast we had to get away from the crushing Saturday crowds of the farmer's market, so we headed south-east-ish to the International district. It was a long walk, so we stopped at the Seattle Central Library to admire the architecture. The building has a strange and beautiful contrast between the cold architectural re-bar pattern that makes it such a memorable sight in this city, and the warm bright nooks and crannies towards the core of the building.





On to the ID. We strolled around the area for a little while, peeking into small shops boasting Chinese herbal remedies, bonsai supplies, loose leaf tea, etc. We browsed Uwajimaya for bento supplies and books and then decided that in an area of the city with food so steeped in culture that we shouldn't waste space in our tummies at the food stands, and instead headed back out into the streets for dim sum. We stumbled upon the Purple Dot cafe - a slightly dirty hole in the wall that may be trying a little too hard to attract a young crowd, but that had a perfectly decent (and insanely cheap) dim sum cart and a waitstaff that was more than happy to help us pick out some good vegetarian treats. We sampled some steamed buns stuffed with black sesame paste, sesame covered glutinous rice balls filled with lotus paste, some strange soupy dumplings overflowing with enoki, shiitake, and forest mushrooms, and some giant brioche-like buns filled with salty, egg-y, scallion-y goodness. What room we had left in our stomach was filled with free tea and we left with some nice leftovers and only a 12 dollar hole in my wallet.



Realizing that we were too full and too tired to walk all the way back to downtown we went down to the underground station to see if we could catch a bus back, but none of the ticket booths were open. By bothering a security guard we learned that the freaking buses run along 4 major city stops for free that time of day and that we were a mere 5 minutes from napping in our hotel bed. Knowing these things in advance would make navigating Seattle much less stressful! We hopped the next bus and dragged our tired buns (and the dim sum too ^_^) upstairs.

Hubby had another surprise for me that evening so we killed a bit more time, and ended up snacking again on some cheap Gardenburger subs before going back to the hotel to change, and then, me in 5 inch heels, walked 3 blocks to Benaroya Hall for the symphony. I remember going to the Seattle Symphony once in elementary school, but that's the only time I've ever been. It was so thoughtful of hubby to have planned something like that. I loved it! We saw the violin player Midori perform 4 different concertos with the orchestra. Between them we entertained ourselves by scrutinizing the crowd from our balcony high above.

After the symphony it was still early, and our last night in the city, so we trekked east again, this time to the Park Place mall for a grilled cheese with tomato (which won me the waitress as a new "best friend") and fries at some faux retro burger place and then saw Up at the AMC.

The longest walk of our trip was that one - back to the hotel after the movie. We were so exhausted, and barely made it under the sheets to fall asleep.

Father's Day was the next morning and since my plan to go to the Boat Street Cafe failed (all booked!) I left Ryan in bed and fetched brioche from the Belle Epicurean across the street. One pain au raisin, one pear almond brioche and two potato rosemary brioches later and we were ready to pack up and head out.

It was a long weekend, every minute crammed with things to do and food to eat. We visited some of my favorite Seattle landmarks, and some whose merit was unbeknownst to me previously, but now I can say I've experienced. It was simultaneously nice to have some time to ourselves, and also lonely without the bun, but I think we needed it. The best part of the weekend was spending the time with the hubs with no distractions, but I've got to say the food was a close second. Now I have a few new stops to add to my places I have to go when in town for other things list.

xoxo

me

A summer that will be remembered...

When they look back at this summer they will remember. Remember the ground pepper, the vinegar, the smattering of chives that are proud to mingle with perfectly candied walnuts and fat dollops of chevré. Or maybe they will reminisce about the creamy yogurt-dill dressing that coats warm french lentils and crunchy pea pods. Perhaps the combination of cherry tomatoes, avocado and mango will be recalled more fondly. But the one thing they will never forget is the lettuce. Green and crispy, standing up to the weight of the glorious toppings and herbs, yet still gentle and soft in your mouth. Each leaf different - bright green, veined with burgundy, spiky and spicy, pale and curly and underestimated.... oh yes. This summer will not be forgotten.

For this summer I am growing my own salad mix!!! What... too much build-up? Well, I'm proud, you see. I have sprinkled these seeds with my own hands, watered and waited. I have watched them with glee as they curled up from the black soil, fanning out and stretching upward, higher and higher daily; I have suffered through the sinking of my heart as I dutifully plucked every second or third sprout to give the stronger ones room to grow. And now they are overflowing their pots, ready to be snipped and noshed on! Oh, the drama, the excitement of lettuce!



This magnificent mountain of mesclun should last me through the entire summer, and what leaves are still standing come late August will be thrown into one gigantic salad bowl as I tear up the pots to make room for yet another planting to last all autumn! The children will run through the streets crying "salad! salad! Oy, the salad!" and their mothers will swoon, and summer's green bounty shall be shared with everyone in my...um...apartment complex... and ... and ... and... uhhh, maybe not everyone can appreciate the joy of growing your own greens, but you see where I'm going, right? This summer will not find me once at my local co-op paying 8.99/lb for pre-washed yet poorly sorted salad mix (Ok Earthbound farms - I get it - you're from California and you put cilantro on everything). You know, I'm usually not a salad girl, but growing it on my own patio makes sticking to a diet much more delightful.

Besides the 3 pots of different baby greens varieties, I have a few other pots crammed onto my little deck to show off. Cauliflower did so well last year, so I've started it again, this time instead of a buttery yellow I've picked the green variety. White cauliflower is so boring. Among other herbs that are still sprouting, and some that have yet to be brought home, I've got a great start on thyme, sage and cilantro - and yes, those are birthday candles sticking out. I'm using them as markers for my planting dates. Those are big chives sprouting out of the flower pot, and their neighbors are scabiosa and lobelia, whose flowers should encourage a few beneficial bugs to visit my small garden.







I'm not just gardening because I love to garden (though I do!), I specifically chose the things I purchase the most often at the grocery store that go bad in my fridge the fastest. The only thing I'm missing is parsley, and I really should get a pot of that too. As long as you can be bothered to spring for a decent potting soil, and venture outside with a watering can every other day you can grow your own herbs and veggies too. When I told hubby that he could snip a few of our lettuce leaves whenever he was in a salad kind of mood he said "that would feel so unnatural" because he's never picked his own food before. It saddens me that a lot of people feel that way, I think, because we are so disconnected from where our food comes from. But you know, if you go back just a few generations you will find that farming, of some sort or another, is in your family history. It used to be that you had to grown your own food to stay alive. Perhaps due to climate change and over-population it will be that way again someday. But I've got to tell you, just because you don't have to grow your own food right now doesn't mean you shouldn't - and there is nothing like that satisfaction of preparing a meal that you grew yourself.

Well, anyway, I'll leave you with a recipe for one of those salads I mentioned. This one was inspired by one from Delicious Magazine.

Warm Lentil Salad

Mixed Greens
French Lentils (or any lentils for that matter)
Fresh Snap peas, trimmed

Dressing:

1/2 cup plain yogurt
1 tsp brown rice vinegar
1 tsp dijon mustard
1 small bunch dill, finely chopped

Cook the lentils as directed on the package. Get your snap peas and lettuce mix ready while you're waiting. Toss them together.

For the dressing: Whisk all ingredients together.

Add the lentils to the salad while they're still warm, then pour the yogurt dressing over the top. No need to toss it, the combination of warm lentils and cold yogurt is a good one.

Easy peasy lemon squeezee!

xoxo

me

24

It's true, I am. Yesterday was my birthday, and I will never be 23 again (except to my Dad who so kindly refuses to let me age in his mind). It's a good age. It feels older than 23, while 23 felt no older than 22 for some reason. Isn't it strange the associations we make in our minds with silly numbers?

The day was spent lazily playing with the bun-bun. We chased bubbles around the living room, tried on every pair of her shoes, and some of mine, and I let her wear a tutu around all morning so that she could be my birthday princess. Then there were 2 hectic hours - "Shirt tucked in or no? Tie on or off? Jeans or slacks?" "Don't pull the kitty's tail! Where did you hide my credit cards?! We don't put our hands in the toilet!!!" "No, you turn right, not left. No, at the stop sign, not when you get off the freeway. Ok, maybe you do turn left, I have no idea anymore!". Finally we got settled down at one of my favorite restaurants for dinner with my Mom, Dad, sister and her fiancé (or 'fancy' as she calls him). My sister and I are starting to look a little bit alike lately, which is a smidgen creepy (I'm on the right).



However she does have a fantastic mustache. Jealous?



Anyway, the restaurant is Cafe Flora. It's nice, when you're a vegetarian, to go out and be able to eat anything on the menu. I like this restaurant in particular because they have their old popular standbys that are always yummy, and then a few seasonal dishes that are more inventive. They use only local and organic produce and sitting out in their atrium with the big sliding windows open always makes me feel calm and happy. The bun had her own little black bean burger and yam fries, while also snacking off of our lentil pâté platter and fried avocados with papaya chutney. For dinner I had an extra full glass of organic Viognier (courtesy of a good waitress), and a small, but surprisingly filling dish of beets and greens ravioli, with coconut mango jasmine rice pudding for dessert.

It's nice getting together with my family, especially when they bring me presents. I got lots of good things, like the beautiful lounge pants from Anthropologie, and the cooking supplies that I can't wait to use. My sister always spoils me with girly things, and my Dad usually supplies the kitchen toys that I always look forward to, but this year my mom obliged to ordering a 9 quart red Le Creuset cast iron enameled dutch oven. I could have cried when it came in the mail yesterday morning, it is so beautiful. Just as much fun to play with will my new 3 piece pasta rolling set for my Kitchen Aid, and my little creme bruleé torch. I work the next 2 nights, and this weekend involves some sort of surprise trip with hubby, but the next free day I get will be spent entirely in the kitchen, probably while wearing my new lounge pants.

xoxo

me

Curing a junk food hangover

I have a history of binging on junk food on Sundays, and yesterday was no exception. I think maybe this informal tradition started when hubby got back into watching football. I really couldn't care less about the games, but I can be coaxed into sitting through just about any 4 hour chunk of boring with a heaping plate of chili covered nachos. Since I'm already eating processed cheese and a meal that is bigger than my head, I might as well finish the job with 6 cans of Mt. Dew and maybe a heaping plate of hash browns and eggs for dinner. Once I get started I give in completely.

There was no game yesterday, but we did have our friends Felicia and Mark over for a movie night, and I got started pigging out early. Not that they were boring; they weren't; but it was my Sunday off. A bag of cheetos started it, which was followed up by a ginormous veggie sandwich from Claim Jumper with steak fries and soda, and a side of cheese potato-cakes. During the movie we busted out 3 pints of Ben & Jerry's to sample, at which point I was feeling pretty self-loathing. I promised hubby that I would eat nothing but ochazuke for the rest of the week to make up for it. He just shrugged and said "whatever".

I think he knows as well as I do that I'm not going to be going on a strict diet, or any kind of diet at all, but ochazuke did sound pretty good by the time I got the bun down for a nap this afternoon. Ochazuke is a simple, light Japanese meal that can be customized pretty much any way you like. Throw a little leftover rice in a bowl and add whatever toppings you want. I chose spring onions, sauteed chard, radishes, and nori strips, but you could also add umeboshi, water chestnuts, mushrooms, furikake, or some meat or fish if you're so inclined. Top that off with some green tea - in about the same proportion you'd use to put milk on your cereal. You could also use hot water or dashi stock, but the green tea is traditional.



I added a small mixed greens salad with cucumbers and sesame seeds with a soy sauce and chili oil dressing. I feel much better. Guilt purged.

xoxo

me

Friday or Thursday? Impossible to tell.

It's sunny and beautiful outside. Soft and fluffy, but frighteningly huge honey bees are buzzing around the flowering crab apple tree outside my window. Who knows, maybe it will hit 75° today? It's all nice to look at, but I don't want to be out there. Allergy season has started and I'm itchy, sneezy and grumpy (At least 2 out of 7 dwarves). Besides, some days only fit with a grey sky outside, a slight drizzle, and a haze of fog in the background. Today is one of those days. And I assure you, its nothing mopey or depressing, its just that when you've lived in the Pacific Northwest almost your entire life you develop a respect for those cold, soggy days that absorb most of our year. Its about the calm that the mild weather brings - none of the distractions of glaringly bright sunshine and a chorus of birds singing in surround sound. When it's sunny and delightful outside you think about how beautiful the weather is. When the weather is blah you think about how beautiful everything else is. This day needs less weather.

And what am I enjoying indoors so much? Well, Bun-bun is definitely my child. She's plopped on the floor organizing a box of crayons. She picks one up, looks it over, feels the paper, then finds a place for it in the box - wait, no - pulls it back out and finds a better spot. She colors a little, and then goes back to fiddling with the crayons. She toddles over to me with a little blue stub and holds it up to my mouth like it's a snack she's sharing. Her little fingers smell like wax. The smell of so many days of my own childhood.

Yesterday I got my CSA delivery. Every two weeks is Christmas! A box of surprise presents of all colors and textures.



My favorite for this week is a bunch of electric purple radishes - when washed they are so bright and beautiful I'd almost rather make a necklace out of them than eat them. Almost. Sautéed in butter and salt I call them lunch. Not forgetting, of course, the quick quesadilla I made with the shiitake mushrooms and chard. How I love creating something quick and delicious with whatever is in my fridge. Thank you, Klesick Family Farms for making it that much easier for me.

Only a few hours to kill now before I go to work. Somehow I got tomorrow off, but I'd like to pick up a shift or two. As of right now, there aren't any up for grabs, so until tomorrow morning I won't know if tonight is my Thursday or my Friday. At any rate, here's hoping that tonight doesn't kick my ass as much as last night did.

xoxo

me

I tripped...

and fell, and landed in a blog. I swear.

I'm always the last to jump on the bandwagon. Not doing what everybody else is doing - it just feels like my place in life. It's not that I'm clueless, although I'm never the first person to notice the new trends either. I just always feel like saying "Oh, that will blow over soon, I'll just ride it out and join in the laughs later about how tewtally laaaame that was". Sometimes they do blow over, sometimes they don't, but I'm usually forced to dip my pinkie toe in anyway. I was the last person I know to get a cell phone, I have refused to watch even 5 minutes of Lost, and I think I've resisted the crocs phase fairly well by sneering at them every time I see a pair flip-flop past (Gawd, how much longer are people going to wear those, anyway?!). Well, I read someone's blog nearly every day. It was only a matter of time before I started one. So hello blog-world. I officially succumb to you.

A little about me, in case you'd like to know: I'm a Seattle area native, and I'm living just north of there now. I'll be 24 next week. I have a sweet hubby and a mischievous toddler. I wait tables and dream of a career in medicine, or biology, or both. Next to the fam, cooking is the most important thing in my life, whether it's the calming feeling I get while listening to the whir-whir-whir of my Kitchen-Aid doing all the hard work for me, or the on-the-edge-of-my-nerves-but-confident stress I so masochistically enjoy when preparing an over ambitious holiday meal for my extended family. And that's all I really have to say about myself for now. More will come later.

I'll leave you with one last thing. Photographer Mark Menjivar says that if we really are what we eat, then our refrigerators must be the windows into our souls. I absolutely believe in that. So here you go, take a peek:







xoxo

me