A Reverie For a Gourmand

"If music be the food of love, play on."  William Shakespeare

With marriage comes the opportunity to start new traditions.  And although both my husband and I would love to be in Wisconsin with our parents and siblings for Thanksgiving, outrageous airfare prices control our holiday.  So here we are, in San Francisco, prepping for the feast of feasts.  This weekend we bought our first turkey.  The array of fowl at the store was intimidating, but we finally chose an eleven-pound, organic bird, thawed and ready to be roasted.  Now, we're trying to find recipes for side dishes like sweet potatoes, green beans and cranberries, as well as our pièce de résistance, the turkey.

My family recipe book

One of the best gifts my mom ever gave me was a family recipe book.  In it, she wrote all of my favorite recipes and every time I look at it, I not only see my mom's distinctive script, but I see my past.  I see myself in ballet shoes, prancing home from Nutcracker practice, just in time to hang our homemade pretzel ornaments on the tree.  I see my apron-clad mom letting me, for the first time, roll out potica (a Slovenian nut bread) dough on our kitchen table.  I see my Grandma Millie, pulling out a fresh loaf of chocolate chip banana bread, just for my sister and me.   Naturally, I've been scouring the book for recipes I can use this Thanksgiving and found a few that I will add to my repertoire.  Holiday mashed potatoes, sweet potato chips, cranberry sauce.  For the rest of the dishes, Ian and I will have to find our own recipes.

As our lives change, so do our traditions.  The key is remembering those loved ones who, present or not, you'd like to incorporate into your new traditions.  Mix new recipes with the old and, for a more global interpretation, build a future that's influenced by your past; this Thanksgiving will truly be a mix of my past, present and future, and I can't wait!

Recommendation: Pumpkin Spice Bars (courtesy of Williams-Sonoma)
1 package yellow cake mix; set aside 1 cup

One bar and only crumbs left!

1/2 cup butter, melted

3 eggs

1 jar of pumpkin butter

2 tbsp. milk

1 tbsp flour

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup butter, softened

1 tsp. cinnamon

Preheat over to 350 F.  Divide yellow cake mix, placing all but one cup in a mixing bowl.  Stir the melted butter and one egg into the cake mix.  Press the mixture into the bottom of a greased 9"x13" pan. (Although the pan I used was a bit smaller I think).  Mix the jar of pumpkin butter with two eggs and milk.  Pour over the cake mix.  Stir the reserved cup of cake mix with the flour, sugar, softened butter and cinnamon. (I used my hands for this). Mix together until crumbly.  Sprinkle over top of the pumpkin layer.  Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until golden brown.  Cool.  Cut into 2" squares.  Serves 24.

Enjoy!

Euripides, Serendipity, and Divinity

It seems as though it's been a lifetime since the last time I wrote a post.  So much has happened to me in the past six months as life's tumultuous journey has led me to a place where I am so utterly happy I can hardly contain my delight!

In May, wedding bells rang loud as I married my best friend.  And although it's probably cliché to say that my wedding day was one of the best days of my life, it was.  My cheeks hurt so much from grinning ear-to-ear that the next morning I could barely open my mouth wide enough to enjoy the breakfast spread at the American Club in Kohler, WI.  But alas all self-control and humility was thrown out the window when I was presented with a mouth-watering buffet (the same reason my husband has officially banned me from OCB), and I miraculously managed to devour waffles through the pain.

Since then, things have changed drastically for me.  I moved to San Francisco and haven't looked back. Although if this were a perfect world, I'd have my Midwestern family out here with me, but c'est la vie.  The month after the move was difficult, however.  My husband had a job lined up and was working by mid-July. A different story for me, I was sending out what seemed like millions of resumes.  I was depressed, angry and feeling inadequate as the rejections continued to roll in.  Long story short, however, after a rather depressing first month in SF, I did find a job.  I had been so frustrated just sitting behind a computer that I put up a listing on craigslist for French tutoring.  A private junior high/high school contacted me and said they were hiring teachers and I should apply.  I did, and got an interview the next day.  Turns out, the director had gone to the same college as me and his son had been a student at the school I had been previously working at in Chicago.  It was all very serendipitous, but I can only interpret it as a deus ex machina.  When God helped me untangle a badly snarled plot of my unemployed life.  And the reason I know this term, deus ex machina, is thanks to a section on Greek tragedy that I'm now teaching.  Hooray for a job as an English (and French) teacher!  I now get paid to read!

So, put your faith into something, because good things will, and do, come.  But remember, you also need to put yourself out there, too.  It's easy to get into a slump, but life's too short to let it get you down because deep down, we all have the ability to evoke something comparable to the works of one of the great Greek tragedians.

Recommendation:  The works of Aeschylus, Sophocles or Euripides

Unconditional Love

"She said I will always love you no matter what will come

I carried you inside myself the two of us are one

No matter how you fall down or how it comes undone

To me you will always be shining."  Willy Porter

Saturday morning, my mom arrived at my apartment, overnight bag in hand, ready to spend the weekend with yours truly.  The fact that we live three hours away hasn’t seemed to, figuratively, keep us too far apart as we are in constant communication planning my wedding via phone, email, text, telepathy, you name it.  With all the hustle and bustle surrounding this event, I’ve been truly blessed to have my mother, for she has helped and been there for me in ways in which I am forever grateful.  But the funny thing is, I have not spent a weekend with just my mom in the longest time, so I was particularly excited for her to come and for the two of us to just hang out.   After a long day of shopping on Saturday, we retired to my apartment for a relaxing night in our pajamas.  As we split a frozen pizza and a bottle of wine, somewhere in between When Harry Met Sally and Love Actually I realized that at some point, the relationship you share with your mom changes. Sure, there’s still the occasional scolding or advice giving…. but ultimately, one grows up and becomes responsible for themselves in this world.  And while the nostalgic memories of the past are vivid in my mind, I love this stage in my life, where I consider my family the most important people in it.  And I want nothing but the best for my mom, and dad for that matter, the two people who I, oh so very much, depend on.  There is nothing like unconditional love, and I am lucky enough to be wrapped in it.  

Recommendation: CD, High Wire Live by Willy Porter.

The Path Less Traveled

“The straight line leads to the downfall of humanity.” Friedensreich Hundertwasser

Here I am, nearly two years out of college and working a 9 to 5 job.  The perceived short time I’ve spent at the mercy of the real world certainly cannot warrant complaints already.  Or can it?  Our lives have a certain order, according to the rules set by society.  There’s a definite progression; go to school until you’re 18, graduate, go away to college, enter the real world, and work until you’re financially stable enough to retire.  I’ve monotonously been following this course set before me for 23 years, however as I realize a good 40 years lies between me and my non-working bliss, I think… why are so many people, especially in these tough economic times, forced to discontentedly work where they are unchallenged.  We are told to be thankful for the jobs we have and that it’s no time to take risks.  But when is? Before we know it, we will have spent our working years doing something in which we had no interest.  Serena Williams wouldn’t hold 27 Grand Slam titles if she had followed this expected path.  Albeit, there are those who are blessed with genuine talent, but how will we ever know our strengths if we don’t liberate them?  The Austrian-born painter and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser’s aversion to a straight ruler was inspiring.  He found the corners other painters left unexplored.  He combined mismatched shapes, whimsical colors and uneven spaces to produce Dr. Seuss-like creations. He is quoted as saying “The straight line leads to the downfall of humanity.”   And although Hundertwasser used these words to inspire his art, I’ve been motivated to understand them figuratively and apply them to this supposed straight path were assumed to follow.  Without taking those initially cautious steps, the world would be void of most of its manmade treasures.  Walt Disney created the most the most recognizable mouse in the world, Coco Chanel graced women with the little black dress and alas Mark Zuckerberg connected over 500 million people worldwide by risking failure for a different path. 

Recommendation: The works of Friedensreich Hundertwasser.  Because when you veer off the straight and narrow, things start happening.  

Song of Songs

"Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth, his offer would be utterly scorned." Song of Solomon

I live in Chicago’s North Shore.  A place that has a reputation of being one of the wealthiest places in the nation.  Now before you start thinking I enjoy many an afternoon sipping tea and eating crumpets, I live in a one-bedroom apartment and frequently enjoy cereal for dinner.  The main reason I live here is because I can walk to work making me the object of envy to the majority of Chicago commuters.  Nonetheless, I am a resident of this charming village and thus surrounded by people who wear shoes worth more than my car. Recently I have gotten a bit more familiar with the Bible due to my fast-approaching nuptials, which have me delving into the scripture, searching for the perfect readings for the purportedly most important day of my life.  No pressure there.  When I opened to the book Song of Songs, also known as Song of Solomon, I was presented with prose to which I was strangely attracted.  Many waters cannot quench love.  Ok, love that.  Nor river drown it.  So true.  If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth, his offer would be utterly scorned.  Wait, what?  If this passage is all about love, what does scornfulness have to do with anything? Then it hit me; the people I interact with on a day-to-day basis in this privileged town have everything.  But no amount of clothes, cars or houses can make someone happy.  In fact, these particular people seem more stressed and upset than anyone I have ever seen.  And if someone offered to give me everything they possessed in exchange for the priceless moments I've shared with my fiancé, I’d scoff at them too. 

Recommendation: Song of Solomon 8:7.   May we all be blessed with prosperity, but if that be our only lot, let love soon follow. 

The Little Prince

"Les grandes personnes ne comprennent jamais rien toutes seules, et c'est fatigant, pour les enfants, de toujours et toujours leur donner des explications." Le Petit Prince

Translation: “Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”

I’m 23, and according to my words in last night’s “quarter-life crisis” breakdown, I’m quickly approaching 30.  Wasn’t it just yesterday I was dipping my chicken fingers in honey while coloring the children’s menu at Applebee’s?  Regardless of whether or not that actually was yesterday, I’ve become embarrassed of my disparaging ways.  Aside from my frustration with New Year’s resolution gym-goers, I have found myself tripping over swimsuit-clad kids running aimlessly around the YMCA.  As if getting to the gym wasn’t hard enough (Chicago just endured its 3^rd largest snow storm in the history of the city), yesterday, working out had me the target in a game of dodgeball.  Every door I went through to get to the running track was blocked with an obnoxious child releasing a high-pitched scream that made my ears bleed. When I finally managed to maneuver my way to my destination, after many an eye roll, I began my monotonous run, going around and around, 13 laps to a mile…  And as this daily ritual gives me ample time for my thoughts to mull, I thought of the grumpy old people I loathed as a kid, for their inability to understand what fun was.  The difference was that those people were legitimately old, at least in my 7-year-old eyes, and here I am 23, and as grouchy as one can be.  Since when did I become so cynical?  I’m not almost 30.  I’m 23…twenty-three years old.  Certainly not old enough for this quote to be applicable to me.  So today, I ran, like usual, but made a stop on my way home for some kraft mac n’ cheese and hotdogs because I refuse to let this real world irritability get me the best of me just yet. 

Recommendation: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.  A children’s book that every adult must read.