Nostalgia

I’ve been on this kick lately of stopping at the grocery store on my way to work to pick up a supply of breakfast and lunch items. I’m one of those people who can’t eat first thing, and as I don’t take an hour to get ready for work, I’m rarely in the house long enough in the morning for breakfast. Stopping on my way to work and stocking up the fridge there seems to be working better for me than remembering to open my own fridge and bringing something in. It’s sad, but true.


I haven’t yet decided if these whirlwind shopping trips save me money or help me eat less junk. I’d like to think yes on both counts, I’m certainly walking down to the coffee shop for food and caffeine less. The other day, though, I had this overwhelming craving for Eggos. Blueberry eggos to be exact, and I’ve been enjoying them for breakfast for about a week. The nostalgia they incite is odd, I remember not particularly liking them as a kid (now, Aunt Jemima French toast, that’s another story … I don’t think I’ve even THOUGHT about that stuff for 20 years, and while writing this I just had a major flashback… anyway). I tried to eat the grown un, healthy waffles, I really did, but they just don’t cut it. I’m sure I’ll finish the box and not touch them again for years, but I am enjoying eating breakfast like a 12-year-old for the moment.

More in the vein of what I normally like to eat, I was slicing up a mango this morning to snack on later and suddenly could almost feel myself back in Costa Rica. I guess that’s not really all that surprising, it’s grey and rainy here, I’m chained to my desk and behind on housework – of course a tropical escape would be a nice thought. I was lucky enough to spend about a month in Costa Rica almost – gasp – fifteen years ago and gosh do I miss the food, especially the fruit. It took me years to be able to eat a banana here again after picking them straight from the tree and understanding what they’re really supposed to taste like. Sunshine, warm beaches, fresh tropical fruit … good thoughts to get one through a day like today. I think I will focus on this food nostalgia instead of Eggos.

I really shouldn't be lamenting my lack of CSA this season as much as I am considering the fact that I can't even remotely keep up with my minimal farmers' market purchases.  Case in point, I learned this week that neglected leeks have a mind of their own:

Today I got something back that I'd really believed was just out of my life forever.  I had my first successful run in well over three years.  During that time, I've been struggling with a back injury that has at various times left me frustrated, depressed and pissed off.  Chronic pain will do that I suppose, but I've been working very hard at learning to live with bum discs by adjusting my lifestyle and practicing pilates religiously.  I've gone from hurting every day to discomfort to actually feeling pretty strong and while not completely back to where I was pre-injury, in a much better place.

I've been told that my running days are over, but I have dabbled with it lately and it just hasn't clicked.  I feel a tweak or twinge in my lower back and I have to stop.  I was starting to think the naysayers were right.  But today, out of the blue at the gym, I started and just didn't stop.  I got past the wall, which came embarrassingly early, and just kept running.  I might be the only person in the world who would use an acoustic version of Moon River to push through, but it was Josh Ritter, a guitar and one of my favorite songs - I think that could get me through the Blitz.  Before I knew it, 20 plus minutes and a couple of miles were gone and I was rocking one serious runner's high.  I really, really missed that feeling.

It got me thinking about working hard at something.  I've spent three years relearning how to stand, correcting my awful posture, strengthening the muscles I need to stay out of pain and all of a sudden it just came together.  A little patience and a lot of perseverance, I guess.

To celebrate, I made myself guacamole.  A metaphor for patience ... I COULD eat it now, but it will taste so much better in a few hours.  For this batch I used, in addition to the avocado of course, garlic, lemon, red onion, cilantro and a nice dose of this ground California chile that I picked up in, well,  California.

With respect to perseverance, I got thinking about that too.  I've been in a culinary rut for ages.  I have little flashes of experimentation, but lately I'm barely cooking let alone cooking anything new, which is silly.  When I first lived by myself back in college, I learned a ton about cooking by just trying it.  That was when I really started to love it.  If I royally screwed something up, it was no problem because no one knew and I just tried again.  You don't learn anything if you don't screw up a bit along the way, and success without a few bumps in the road certainly isn't as sweet.

It won't happen this week because I'll be living at the office, but I think it's time to get back to pushing through some experiments.  Who knows when I'll have another breakthrough like today!

The holy trinities

It's said good things come in threes.  There are many such trinities worth worship.  Gin, tonic, lime.  Bacon, lettuce, tomato.  Three snuggling boxers.   Tomato, basil, mozzarella.  Wine, cheese, wine.  I could go on all night.

I'll be honest, I had a real shit day today.  I won't get into details, but suffice it to say there was venom running through my veins all day.  A nice lunch out with a good friend helped take the edge off, but still, I was just not fit for consumption for most of the day.

I had a scheduled workout class, and the stretching and torture that comes with pilates did help to take my edge off a bit.  My luck started turning around though when I got to my car.

Apparently I'd gotten out of the car with the new 90s and more station on (Love you, Crush 105.7) and when I turned the key Sinead O'Connor was signing her heart out.  Nothing like belting out an early 90s classic heartbreak tune at the top of your lungs in the privacy of your car (that last part is CRITICAL for me) to lift your spirits.  So sing along with my crazy Irish sister I did.  Then I glanced at my phone and noticed a waiting text message.  It was from an old, dear friend telling me he was in town for a wedding.  Said friend just happens to hail from the Emerald Isle as well, so score two for the Irish.  It's been far too long since I've seen my friend and his note quite literally made my week.  Facing hunger, an empty fridge and a powerful thirst, I headed to the bar for a quick bite. (Sorry wilting beet greens, I just couldn't cook you tonight...)  I ordered myself a McSorley's to round out my Irish trifecta and with the first sip I felt the last of my venom float away.  Good songs, good friends and good beer, all with an Irish twist ... perfect.

To fight off the hunger I went for another trinity and ordered myself a BLT.  A quick run through the summer rain and home to my pup to rescue him from the thunder and my night was complete, and better than it started.

mmmm, pie!

Sometimes, it’s the simple pleasures that are the best. I love pie for breakfast. I mean, I love pie any time and would often choose it over cake any day of the week, but there is something spectacular about pie for breakfast. I’m sure I’ve confessed to this here before. Typically, pie for breakfast is a holiday thing – I’ll have it for a day or two after Thanksgiving or Christmas when my Mom bakes enough pies to sink an army. Trust me, with my stepfather and two teenaged brothers measuring in at 6’4” and 6’7’ I’m not employing a lot of hyperbole here. You can imagine how much pie she has to make for there to be leftovers.

I went to the Troy Farmer’s Market on Saturday with an old friend and as we wandered by the pie vendor, I paused. They had small pies for sale and a rhubarb one jumped out at me. But I wanted STRAWBERRY rhubarb and of course they only had it in the normal pie size. As I pondered the purchase, the sweet gentleman behind the counter explained to me that I could cut off a chunk and freeze it. It was then that I realized, who am I kidding? I can eat a whole pie. That’s not to say that I should eat a whole pie, but lord knows I can. Metabolism don’t fail me now.

So pie for breakfast it is, a few days running now. It’s great, I pack up a slice in foil and march off to work. You know, like old Welsh miners did back in the day, but a 21st century, kinda yuppie version. I don’t feel the least bit guilty and it’s not like this is an everyday occurrence. I just really wanted a strawberry rhubarb pie, it’s late spring and you’ve got to get while the gettin’ is good. No, I didn’t make it myself and I’m ok with that. Full confession here – I can make a mean crumble top, but I can’t tell you the last time I made my own crust. It’s something I’d like to work on, but now is not the time.

The Collins Clan

Hello lover...

At a lovely backyard evening with the girls, complete with fantastic food, I tried something for the first time that could get me in lots of trouble.  I had my first vodka collins.  A pint-sized vodka collins.

Now, I typically prefer gin to vodka, but I'm not one to turn my nose up at a refreshing beverage lovingly prepared by a dear friend that is complete with fresh-squeezed lemon.  Here is why I think I'm completely screwed - 1. I prefer gin to vodka, 2. I just had a fantastic vodka drink, and 3. It's standard to make said drink with gin.

I don't intend to abandon my summertime staple, Saphire and Tonic, or the close second, Hendricks and Lemonade, and we know how I'm looking forward to homemade blueberry vodka, but something tells me I've just made a good new friend named Tom.

What other summertime beverages belong on the list?

Fingers crossed...

I got a ton of work done in the yard this weekend.  Of course there is still a ton to do.  I've learned that I really like cutting shit down.  I've had some serious bonding time with my limb clippers and god do I enjoy the satisfaction that comes with excising dead, overgrown, or superfluous vegetation.  It might be a bit of a metaphor, but it's fun and surprisingly good stress relief.

But more exciting - I got a bunch of plants in the garden.  I'm pretty thrilled about my bed this year.  It's loaded with tomatoes and I added some space by using pots and an old milk box (or something) which made a great home for basil and cilantro.  In my effort to scare away critters, I potted a bunch of marigolds around the raised bed.  I don't love marigolds and the flat I bought was certainly too many, but they do stink and with any luck it will help protect the rest of my swiss chard.  I've already lost two plants.  I wisely kept my mint to pots to try to avoid complete invasion.  I'm growing kentucky mint, which somehow I think will go GREAT with bourbon and black peppermint which I'm hoping to try for tea.

I don't have a lot of space in the yard that gets enough sun to grow veggies, so I'm learning to be creative and maximize it the best I can.  I snuck in a second small raised bed that is housing cukes and jalapenos.  I even stuck squash in what will someday be a perennial garden.

So far, so good I think.