Bon Vivant

Ghosts and gifts.

2011-10-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

It's the strangest souveniers of that can randomly stimulate a memory of something that was tucked way behind your cerebral cortex. Today I had two moments, fleeting moments in which I acknowledged...Oh, I've been carrying this around not remembering that the space needle is where he proposed to me...How funny that it lights up. How odd that I've been using this damn light up pen for two days now without recognizing this. How insignificant and cliche that evening in December was. I recall nearly being hit by a car afterward, feeling apprehensive and scared as hell. About the proposal.

Later on, "Our House" by Crosby Stills and Nash came on the radio, triggering a memory of the time I had a brain scan done and I chose "Folk music" to stream through my headphones which are practically useless at drowning out the sounds of computerized tomography...When "Our House" came on, I couldn't move my head, but tears formed, they itched my eyes. The song reminded me of when my mom, brother and I used to sing it driving out to our house together...And the thought of how little and naive I was back then, I missed the safety and comfort of it all. What a gift, I would have never guessed 15 years later that I would hear the song again when being tested for a tumor, which was not found.

I've only got 23 years and counting on this earth, but these little coincidences of memories being woven into the present fabric of my life are strange. I'm trying connect it all, but maybe there is no connection at all. Maybe it's just ghosts and gifts from the past. Maybe there is really no synchronicity at all.

Pruning

2011-05-18T23:35:00.000-07:00

Somehow, things became inextricably altered along the way of "finding myself," and I can't say I've really been found yet. It's easy to stay lost when there's been a search party looking for someone who merely resembles you.

A lot can change, for better or worse in a few months. I'm still sorting through things, and extracting lessons. The only tragic thing about a past is an inability to learn from it.

In these lessons, I have noted a prominent friendship thematic. When a heart divides, friendships are vital to sustaining life, hope, light, and preventing an open heart from bleeding dry.

Here is what I've learned thus far about friendships in this time:

"On Listening to other people, and those who fancy themselves the title of friend;"

Difficult times have a way of pruning away friendships that are built on false pretenses. It illuminates those who are genuine, and those who are just opportunists with scads of empty, meaningless advice.
Those who think they're doing you a "favor," by aiding in something destructive are useless.

It's important to seek out friends who want your highest good, who are there as a support, but not an accomplice.

Only seek out people who give your sails wind to move, anything else is only going to leave you stranded, penniless and full of remorse that you're too awkward to admit...Because a sinking ship seems easier than throwing someone overboard and allowing a change in direction.

You don't need anyone or anything that isn't going to last. Temporary fables of friendship are cheap and easy to come by, only settle for what is solid.

And when all else fails, find a friend in yourself.

I was inspired by the painting of two Frida's, by Frida Kahlo; one part of herself sustaining the other, maintaining a delicate equilibrium, and self-preservation.

So, I guess it's safe to say that part of this is a goodbye. A goodbye to those who were full of assumptions and kept their distance, and a goodbye to those who were just passing through.

There's just no room for you, anymore.

I'm forever skeptical, I hope you will be too. There is some wisdom in that.

Dream state

2011-05-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

I'm avoiding things in the biggest ways possible, completely conscientious of my diversions I create nearly every day. It's comforting to focus on the positive.

Positive.

Wandering through daily life, semi-conscious, it feels like I'm living in a dream sometimes.

And I don't know if you've ever experienced death, how complacent it makes you. How nothing really seems to matter, laughter, tears, blank stares, complacency. You await normalcy, counting on the days to return to a predictable rhythm, counting on time to carry your grief away. Well, I feel that same sense of complacency, the only difference is that I'm experiencing a slow, painful death of a part of me. Watching myself drowning, trying to keep the other half above water.

But it's a useless drowning part that needs to die and decay. What washes up on shore is my resilient, stronger part. The fighting part that won't settle for anything less than a beautiful life. A life filled with beautiful people, souls, smiles, opportunities, moments, breaths. A genuine life.

....

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."

— Marilyn Monroe

Open eyes.

2011-04-21T22:11:00.000-07:00

Finding my center, getting a little dizzy on the way. I've been wandering in circles, but I know it's somewhere there, and if I keep on treading, it will be found. I've been a little lost for a while, I've been a little of everything. I think I've just given myself permission to get distracted on a couple of detours for some sightseeing.

But I'm still here, I'm still.

Oh the days, they've gone so fast. Blame it on the winter past, blame it on the brevity of light. But I think it has more to do with the flutter of activity than these cold, darker days. I've grown weary them, and I'm ready for Spring.

Oh, you beautiful spring, bring me some color, a prominent change. One that I can feel on my skin, a breeze that promises something new. Change is one thing I can count on, I know it's coming. It's comforting to believe in that one true thing.
And this world, it keeps on rotating, gravity, it keeps on pulling, and I, I keep on moving.
I've got to keep on moving.
In tragedy.
In triumph..

It's not a stretch to say, some things have irrevocably changed. I sometimes feel like I went on a long trip, left home and came back to no furniture. An empty house that doesn't feel the same at all...
I guess that's what happens when you live in a house made of cards.

Time to forget about some things, to pick up all those pieces of yourself and begin mending.
Swallowing pride, oh such a bitter taste. And I know it takes a little scar tissue to mend a torn soul. But it's a thicker coat of flesh that protects.

I'm clinging to a youth that never was. I'm clinging to the promise of the change of light. It's something I can lay my head on at night.
Ready for this, bracing myself for a change.

Looking to something, someone new. I've settled for a lot of things, but I know now, that all of life is something you participate in, it doesn't ever just "happen" to you.

Some things have been spoiled. Like a bed you shared. Like a heart you opened too easily. I'd like to say I know better, yes I would.

And all of life is learning, knowing, growing moving forward with your head held high. There's nothing captivating to see on the ground. The beauty, it's all around you, in your peripheral..In front of you. If only you open your eyes.

Open your eyes.

Walking a tightrope.

2011-04-20T18:54:00.000-07:00

I don't know why we settle for so much less. Why do we settle for less than we're worth? Why do we settle for mediocrity? Or even less than mediocrity? Is it because we've become so comfortable with expecting nothing, and accepting anything?

At a crossroads, where I'm really questioning settling. What is worth settling for, and what I can and can not acclimate to. I suppose I'm a chameleon of some sorts, just blending in. Anyone should know that the ability to blend is a survival mechanism. Another survival tactic Chameleons have are specialized feet to do a tightrope walk on very thin branches, never falling.

I'm definitely walking a tightrope right now. Between where I see my future going, and how my present needs repositioning. How do you keep your balance with one foot in this exact moment and the next in the future? I suppose it's easier than having one foot lingering in the past with the next uncertain of where the present lies. But either way, you've lost your equilibrium.

At least I know these little feet wont fail me, they haven't yet. I've just got to keep my head and my heart in their correct transversal planes. Think and act with your head only, never let your heart dictate where you will journey. It's never worth it. But you can count on a brilliant mind and sturdy feet.

You can't begin to know where these sturdy feet may take you, that's the magic in placing one foot in front of the next. Sometimes haphazardly, sometimes shameful, sometimes splendid...Each step takes you further from the past.

“The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.”

Lost at sea?

2011-04-18T22:26:00.000-07:00

Wasting away, my life. It's disappearing before my eyes. I'm feeling a little like a ship lost at sea right now. I've never been so misguided, so misunderstood, so mistaken. It's strange, not having a compass, or a plan for where I'm going. I've always been spontaneous, but that was just to pass the time on my way to somewhere more solid.

There's nothing very solid right now. It's like everything once tangible is just quicksand, slipping away. So easy to get whisked away in the daily grind, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. Here I am today. I just wonder if anyone else thinks about the confinement of time. It's feeling rather limiting right now, and I'm beginning to panic, slightly. But there's much to be experienced in the passing time. Every moment has it's meaning and purpose. Sometimes I feel robbed of experiencing the fullness of any one thing by the tick, tick ticking...

Regardless, I've found there is something that can't be stolen, myself. I'm all I've got when everything eventually expires. The sun still shines on my shoulder, the moon still kisses me good night. I've still got so much fight, and I think that's all you really need.

The thing with this damn vessel lost at sea is that it takes a gradual rotation of the wheel to redirect it's course. But I'm course correcting, and that's a comfort for a girl lost at sea, without any compass.

Le divorce...

2011-04-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

I'm going to address a huge elephant in the room. Some of you have noticed it in the corner eating peanuts. Some of you have been obliviously entertained by it's tricks. Then, there are some of you who weren't invited to the circus and didn't even know of any elephants.

I'm doing this because I have nothing to hide, and elephants are rather stately creatures to try to hide anyways. So, here it goes....

I Am

Solo: noun, plural -los, -li /-li/
adjective, adverb, verb
1. a musical composition or a passage or section in a musical composition written for performance by one singer or instrumentalist, with or without accompaniment: She sang a solo.

I am a composition, a passage, a selection, without accompaniment. I am a verb, an adjective, a noun. I am singing, solo.

I'm no longer a "wife." That title always felt strange coming out of my mouth anyways..It was like saying "I'm a biochemist," or "I'm a polar bear." I was good at the task, but it was like trying to put a puzzle together with only the edge pieces, a picture never emerged.

I've been debating whether I should entirely revise a past, deleting all digital history that we ever existed through revising blog entries, photos, etc...Just smiling when I run into someone who utters "your husband" to me, without correcting them..Just evading anyone who knew "us." Just pretending that everything is the same as it's always been.

But I can't revise the past, and I've never been good at pretend. I can only course-correct and revise my future.

Therefore, I've chosen to stay consistent in my pursuit of being honest with myself about who I am, what I want, and where I'm going.

I'm not ashamed. We all make foolish mistakes. It's how we respond to the inevitable chaos that reveals our character, and in large part, our future.

I don't want sympathy. I'm resilient. I don't want advice. I can make my own decisions, and I don't want pity-I'm not down and out.

It's not that I don't realize the enormity of this, or care. I understand the sentiment of it all.

However, I'm convicted with an irrepressible truth that life is just too damn short to live in regrets. I've got an entire life to live, and I'm embracing it with open arms.

I am a phoenix, emerging from the ashes, with a fresh, brilliant coat. Nothing can clip my wings.

I particularly like the way French author Voltaire described the Phoenix;

"Its eyes were as mild and tender as those of the eagle are; fierce and threatening. Its beak was the color of a rose, and seemed to resemble, in some measure, the beautiful mouth of Formosante. Its neck resembled all the colors of the rainbow, but more brilliant and lively. A thousand shades of gold glistened on its plumage."

A thousand shades of gold.

Images, Images.

2011-03-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

Processing, in chemicals and darkness, waiting for an image to come into focus. Burning and dodging, manipulating the point of view. This is how we live our lives. Always trying to cast ourselves in the best light, hoping that we've got good colour and contrast.

Sometimes the images don't turn out how we once envisioned when we stood behind the lens. Our focal points were skewed by our fragile disposition. Everything looked wonderful from where we once stood. But there is beauty in flawed photographs, and memories of what we have seen.

All that I was and all that I'm becoming is starkly different than who once stood behind the lens. I couldn't tell you what I see now, my vision is blurred and I'm working with a new habitat. A change in pace, speed and light.

It's exciting, this new habitat. The view from here, it can't be shared. It's a sight for these two eyes to covet and keep. I've got a world to discover, on my own. In this venture I've lent myself to the indulgences of guile and wit, a necessity for preservation.

I have began my dissertation on this small, unchanging world, and I can tell you...We're all the same, yet completely opposite. We all want one thing, to be right. We all hang our hopes on ideals and instant gratifications and know little of patience and perspective. Make no mistake on my views, I'm standing right along side you in this family photograph.

Speaking of images, this is the perfect description of what I aspire to be, as a woman...

By Emily Dickinson, the one and only...

"To see her is a picture-
To hear her is a tune-
To know her an Intemperance
As innocent as June-
To know her not-Affliction-
To own her for a Friend
A warmth as near as if the the Sun
Were shining in your Hand."

The day I left the womb.

2011-03-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

It’s the day I left the womb, 23 years ago. How fast the time has passed. I didn’t really know where I expected to be today at this age. But, I don’t think it was quite where I’m standing. I feel so much older than 23. Life can wear on you like that. I've been letting go of a childhood that never was. I think I’ve always attempted growing, prematurely. Wanting to grasp the responsibilities of adulthood before it’s time. I’ve paid for that, and now I grieve a loss of something that passed me by while I was busy trying to be 30.

I know it sounds ridiculous, right? But I’m feeling like I’ve lived through more than enough for 23 short years. It’s time to set a new vision for what I want to accomplish this year. It seems I’m edging closer to an age where expectations are placed on me. What I should have attained, all that I should be doing, all that I am.

Due to life's strange ways of course correcting, I’m starting back at square one. Does this put me right on course for one my age? Maybe. I don’t feel pressured. I recently learned the concept of “finger painters,” and “strategists.” Finger painters are given a canvas and create something as it comes to them. Strategists can’t function in this environment of spontaneity.

I’m a finger painter. My hands are stained with vibrant coulours, creating something that doesn’t quite fit the canvas. It can get messy sometimes, but whatever emerges when I stand back is beautiful to me. It’s a life anything but dull and grey.

This year, I’m giving myself permission to let go. Let go of expectations for what should be. Living a life a little less settled. I’ve decided to put my focus into the gym, something I’m passionate about and a career full of opportunity. Communication studies have been neatly tucked on the back shelf. Maybe I will dust those books off some other time. For now, it’s important to direct my energies where my compass is leading me.

Where will this year take me? I can’t imagine. Everything I once envisioned has been pried from my imagination…I should have known better, It was a life in water colour, vulnerable to wash away.

Eternally, I’m exploring. I find contentment in the sights, sounds and smells. It’s not where my feet are taking me that excites me, it’s what I might see along the way. Cheers to all the days that have passed and all that still remain.

There's a season for everything, they say.

2011-02-11T00:21:00.000-08:00

I have been in a hurricane for quite some time. The wind just won't let up, but I'm still standing here. Treasured keepsakes have been blown away, and that old house that carried so many memories has been unearthed...But I'm still standing here.
Storms excavate everything you thought was solid, the only thing you can do is pick up your hammer and start rebuilding...

I'm collecting materials and crafting something new. It is a new beginning and I'm not the best carpenter, but a shackled city has more character anyways. I've decided to do away with the predictable blue prints this time around.

Life has been anything but predictable thus far, but I like it that way. I didn't expect to be overwhelmed with career opportunity while studying writing, which has prompted me to take a repose from school. It was a very heart-wrenching decision. I hold education very dear and hate leaving things unfinished, but I've decided to focus my energies on other passions. I believe it's better to pour yourself into your passions than to spread yourself thin and not be 100 percent at any one thing. Besides, most of the learning I intend on doing can't be obtained inside a classroom.

Goodbye flooded city, may the remnants wash away and the wind breathe fresh air into something new.

To new beginnings...

"What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from."
- T. S. Eliot

In flight.

2011-01-03T23:29:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when you take your first solo flight, you realize that it's not enough to just fly, now there's all this pressure to fly faster and higher and before you know it you could be in a situation where you lose the wind under your wings and you begin falling so fast, the force of the wind can tear your feathers and break you, as you hit the water, and how, how can you struggle out of the water and begin to fly again?

When you take your first maiden voyage, you start to realize all those pressures of life. It's like in our confusion of which way the wind is going, instead of standing on the rock and surveying the land, we smash ourselves against it. Sometimes, it takes a dizzying fall to realize we can gain elevation, catching an undercurrent and continuing the journey.

It takes a lot more than simply an "independent spirit" to do this thing called life, unaccompanied. But, what scenery you would miss if you never left the nest...How weak and atrophied your wings become when you stay where it feels safe.

I've taken flight and I'm gradually making my way. Ironically, I have no idea how to read a compass, and am without a parachute.

Someone told me today; "You're a fish with wings and a bird with fins, you can make any environment work for your betterment."

God, I hope they're right.

Vientre

2010-11-08T14:14:00.000-08:00

I'm working at an exciting new gym with a ton of diversity, and I love interacting with countless cultures all day. The draw to this is a language barrier. I want so badly to communicate with these clients when I'm training them, but I'm limited to a few words like "doce, aqui, bien" (12, here, good). Why twelve you say? Because that's the number of reps I instruct people to start building strength at.

Today there was a little mix up when I tried to say "veinte," (Spanish for twenty). Instead, I said "vientre," which conveniently meant belly; my mistake tied in well, considering I was trying to say "do twenty crunches," but instead referred to the belly.

All it took was the absence of an r, and two letters exchanged to turn the word twenty into belly. I'm sure I once again, look like a silly American girl with only my mother tongue to communicate in. I kept wanting to speak french to her, like my slight knowledge of any other language but english would enhance our communication. Lucky for me, my job is mostly physical, I actually saw that I can get a lot more done when I'm not chatting the entire time. But oh how it pains me to not be able to chat.

It's really quite unfortunate I lack spanish skills. It's the second highest population here, and I grew up making pies in the kitchen with a spanish aunt. Not to mention the practicality of it. But, oh how I love the sounds and textures of the french language...Maybe I'll make spanish my next goal.

What do you speak?

Daylight saving

2010-11-07T07:36:00.000-08:00

I thought daylight savings meant I would steal and extra hour of sleep. There was no graceful hour of slumber added to my night. Instead I woke at 5:46 am. Trying to fall back asleep is an exercise in futility for me. So, I allowed my day to commence. This early time is exquisite, the world is quiet, the morning air is refreshing, I feel like the only one alive.

This is my one day ~~to sleep in~~, to do whatever I like, and actually have time to think. Today, I will slow down and observe the fall. I've spent too much time wistfully driving through the beginnings of the season without getting to experience it.

I've just been so busy lately, I worry that being to busy will rob me of thought. Whenever I am in autopilot, creativity is hindered. It takes many coats of primer to begin to paint again. I prefer to keep a paintbrush and palette of colour in hand.

So I am grateful for this Sunday morning. Sitting, drinking tea and listening to breakfast with The Beatles playing on the radio. Nostalgia seems to creep in uninvited at every opportunity. I have grown up with The Beatles, there is a song fitting for every stage of life. Right now, my song is "Blackbird."

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

-The Beatles

Pyromanic

2010-11-03T01:27:00.000-07:00

I have a strange proclivity for starting fires, burning things and causing perfectly functioning household appliances to begin emitting smoke.

A recent melting of my wallet provoked some reflection and troubleshooting.
Graciously, I have yet to actually burn anything down. Here are gripping accounts in which I nearly escaped death:

On a typical cold winter evening, I set hooka coals on the stove to spark (along with a piece of paper), and stepped outside of the kitchen for a moment (why did I leave coals unattended?), when my friend Ada, who was tending to something at the counter, saw a small fire out of the corner of her eye and, in the most disconcerned tone, shouted to me in the other room "Um...Ayla, did you want that fire there?"

I rushed in the kitchen, shouting "no no no no no!" Thinking fast, I swatted it out with a dish towel. Starting new coals, this time with all eyes on the stove. The hooka has been the source of other near fires, someone always seems to knock it over, spilling burning coals. Word to the wise: do it outside, or enforce very strict passing rules.

....

Another harrowing experience, where I nearly escaped death (or so I thought) was when I tried to stuff a blanket much too large for a household dryer in regardless of the obvious effort it took to make it fit. Minutes later, I noticed smoke wafting into the living room where I sat, reading. Suddenly, stop drop and roll rules drilled into me since childhood kicked in, and I "military-crawled" my way to the washroom where I popped up long enough to open a window, letting out a few pathetic coughs and noticed the source, a tired dryer, which I quickly unplugged, averting disaster. I promptly took my soaking, heavy blanket to Bubble's dry cleaners where a kind attendant helped me figure out the workings of coin-operated dryers. I never tried to wash that blanket at home again.

....

Then there are the countless evenings where I've caught pans on fire, but we all do that when playing chef, right?

.....

I know you're dying to know how I melted my wallet...Well, my investigation into the matter leads me to believe it was melted by proximity to a tea kettle. I really didn't mind that one, no credit cards melted, and an excuse for a new floral sequin wallet.

Hallows

2010-11-01T02:29:00.000-07:00

Sitting at Grand Park on Halloween night, listening to music in my car ~~as I smoke an American Spirit~~ (my default on bad terrible no good very bad news days). I step out into the brisk, clear October evening and cross the street to the park. I'm wearing crocheted slippers, and hope the grass isn't too dewy as I step onto it. The socks insulate my feet from receiving much of the dew that the black yarn of my slippers soak up.

I hear a loud screeching, the trains below the clif overlooking the sound are doddling by. The weary tracks are groaning as metal meets metal. Shipments pass through in the night.
This night is different, I've seen a Tin Man, a Witch, a couple of gremlins and a prison escapee. They're all knocking on doors for candy.

I remember my last year of collecting the candy, the youngest among my group was 15, still too old for candy. My height helped persuade neighborhoods that I was only in sixth grade-still too old for candy.

At the lookout point, the smoke emitted from the factory below is more visible in contrast to the night sky. A dark figure runs across the grass, hiding behind the bushes, I glance over, unconcerned. It's naturally some young nerdy couple trying to "spook each other."

The night is aging, and there are less and less costumed children. The lights of most houses are now dimmed to ward of the candy collectors. After squatting down in the grass for some iphone "photography," I get a text from my friend. She's made cocoa and has treats for me.

On the short drive to her house, I see many goblins and vampires.
It's the cozy cocoa and conversation that I need most.
It's the laughter and lightness.
It's the everything in between the here and the now.
It's the Hallow, and it's the Eve.

Left

2010-10-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

On Thanksgiving one year, my aunt Cathy commented "you're handicapped girl, you're just like your daddy, he cant do anything with his right hand." I always remember that statement when I'm struggling with a spatula, and a large bowl, trying to scoop the contents out and having trouble, thinking about this "disability" of mine.

For my sixth birthday, my mom bought me a miniature guitar. This was the first time I was acutely aware of the limitations of being left-handed. I couldn't hold the damn thing properly. Rather than being forced to ambidexterity, she had my first-grade music teacher restring my guitar to be backwards. Trying to learn a left-handed guitar from a righty was difficult/impossible. This difficulty extends to all the other various utensils; scissors, can openers, tooth brushes (almost) are a heightened task. My dad, the only other lefty in the house, remedied this with left-handed utensils. Everything was marked with a sharpie in all caps; "DANS LEFT HANDED _______" I don't know where he found all these specialty items, especially before internet shopping existed.

There is nothing remarkable about being left handed. I was born like this, without choice in the matter. Still, people react like it's some kind of gift. I'm always amused when people comment that I'm left handed, (in case I didn't notice.)

On the first day of class, I scan the room for other lefties..Maybe singling out one. I notice other lefties point out our commonality. It's like saying "you have blue eyes too." How to answer a remark about my anatomy from a stranger..I usually crack a joke about my life span being statistically shorter, but at least I'm in "my right mind," usually causing a pause of awkward silence.

Left handedness is a good excuse to avoid sitting next to someone you really don't want to, or getting first pick of your chair when eating out with friends to avoid "bumping elbows."

I've always got the defense of "I'm left handed," when I can't do something proficiently with my hands; Saying, "I'm left-handed." It's like a get-out-of ineptitude free card (unless they respond "me too")...

Everything, is always backwards for me. I write sideways, struggle with spatulas, spill on myself when I try to drink with my right hand, and over all will probably live five years less than you...
But at least I'm in my right mind.

Make it rain

2010-10-28T00:25:00.000-07:00

Ambition, it's fluid, shifting, constantly cycling. It condenses, evaporates, precipitates. Sometimes getting caught in the clouds, feeling like there's a drought. So I do a dance to make it rain. Sometimes it pours. Other times, I'm in a tango with life, rehearsing my steps; right, left, right, left...Until the clouds are heavy enough to saturate me with ambition, quenching my thirst and nurturing the soil, allowing new growth.

Without the wind, the clouds, heavy with rain would never move or change shape. We need a breeze to blow through our lives sometimes, moving us, altering our shape.

Without the rain, we wither. Better to stand, head cocked at the sky, waiting for growth. Reaching our limbs up, begging for rain. If we're patient, ambition rains down, fertilizing the seeds of ideas. Without it, we're mediocre. Let us not settle for mediocrity.

We must all change.

The fall reminds me of this. It's when the change around me is most evident. The trees turn a violent shade of red, the city looks like it's on fire. The days cold, rainy, make me lust for summer. But I remember that rain is what makes my life a beautiful shade of Emerald.

Skipping

2010-10-22T01:08:00.000-07:00

Today I overslept my six alarms, prompting me to skip my writing class to write. I drove to a favorite lookout of mine in a Historic part of town where the city meets the Sea.

It's a lover's lookout. A mass of murky blue freckled with islands and sailboats. Smoke wafts from factories that border the water. A traffic jam of red logs float with the tide, Seals sometimes sunbathe on those logs.

I wasn't alone. There were others perched on this hilltop, taking time out of their day simply to appreciate beauty. Something I think we need to practice more often. Conspicuous consumption of beauty. Random acts of pleasure, moments of weightlessness.

I took pen to paper and watched the blue bleed out on the page, a mix-mash of cursive and type. A labor of the hands that makes each word more the deliberate. Balkan folk music dancing in my ears, drowned out any other sounds.

Most everything circles back to a few central themes; evolution, exploration, wonder. I guess these could all be condensed, but they each represent something different.

Because I love the dictionary;

Evolution: a process of continuous change from a lower, simpler, or worse to a higher, more complex, or better state

More complex? Yes.

Exploration:the investigation of unknown regions.

Uknown? Definitely.

Wonder:rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious.

Astonishment? Always.

I headed to school in time for French...Which is improving; "j'aime le vin de France!" Feeling ambitious, I also joined the Anthropology Club. This is ~~probably~~ the first time I've joined any extracurricular clubs. What's gotten into me?

Consequences

2010-10-17T08:44:00.000-07:00

This is part two of a story. Please read Part one before jumping in here.

How did he find us? I knew that we weren't in any kind of trouble from my dad, in fact, he would probably find a way to let us stay and party for the night. The second he pulled up in his pickup truck, I knew that he had been sent by Ashley's parent's.

I don't know if we were expecting them to just let us "slip off" for the weekend, or what. It also happened to be Amanda, the younger sisters, birthday weekend. We really didn't plan to impede on her grand birthday plans, obviously, we had big ideas for ourselves.

My dad hopped out of his pick up truck, saying "Ayla, we gotta git-choo girls home, Ashley's parent's are pissed. They have an A.P.B. out on you with the police."
"What's an A.P.B?"

"An all points bulletin, they got cops all across the state with your license plate lookin for ya. They won't even question ya if they pull you over, they'll just point guns and tell you to get out of the car." I heard "all points bullets, there is a bullet with my name on it out there."

Ashley and I grinned at each other. Yes, this was serious. But also pretty bad ass. We'd somehow crossed over from being delinquents, to being bona fide criminals.

"I gotta git you girls home, tonight. Gimme your beers, I'll keep em in my truck for you-where's your pipe?"

We decided to give my pipe a proper burial in the sand of our camp ground sight. Anxiety of returning home was diffused by a buzz of the lemonade we'd been drinking for the past eight hours.

It was about midnight when we set off for home. Any feelings of defeat about our plans not working out were offset by the apprehension setting in with every passing hour on the dark highway. We worked out our alibis, making sure they aligned. We pulled up to Ashley's home, my foster home, at 3 a.m. The mom walked into the hallway at the top of the stairs and instructed us "both of you girls go straight to your rooms."

I was weary from the long day of chemicals and miles, and happily took the direction to sleep on my nerves, hoping sleep might smooth them over. Knocking on our doors woke us just five hours later, we were both handed typed up surveys by 'mom, and told to fill them out separately, and be prepared to have an interview with the parents.

As we sat in our separate rooms filling out our surveys, the Saturday sun streamed in the windows, taunting me of the adventures and freedom of fresh air I had forfeited. The house phone rang and I heard 'mom talking on the phone. "Oh my god? Where is he?!" She ran to our rooms and informed us that her the younger brother had been hit by a car on his bike and she had to take off for the hospital. 'Dad was off golfing, and we had the house to ourselves for the day.

We abided by the rule to not leave our rooms, but shared nervous laughter and premeditations of how we'd respond from the doorways of our rooms in the hallway. "God has cursed them," we joked about the parents. "What timing was that? The day after we ran across state, the younger brother breaks a leg in a car accident."

His accident was only serious to his leg. He would require special attention and round-the-clock catering. Ashley and I were relieved that there was other disaster to divert the attention from our impending punishment.

After we filled out our separate surveys, and interviewed about what had taken place, we were given a typed up "consequences packet." We both remarked how light the punishment was. "Three weeks of not going anywhere? I thought it would be three months!"

When we returned to school the following week, talk buzzed around the campus about our adventure. People asked if it was true. We had commanded our own title as "bad girls," and were strangely proud. This is one of many of the stunts Ashley and I pulled.

Now, we all look back on those years and laugh. Though Ashley and I grew up in our own rights, separately the past eight years, we still share a mischievous, knowing glance and grin every time we get together.
Throughout the years, I have kept in touch her family. They shared their home and love with me during a difficult year as an orphan, and have always been a support.

We all have our crazy years, mine just happened to be full of illegal activity. Of course, I've grown up. I have a license now, and am a little less impulsive.

What was your youth like?

Trouble maker

2010-10-17T03:40:00.000-07:00

Just about any of my friends from yesteryears refer to me as "their trouble-making friend." I would classify it more as "adventurous friend." I think it was just the collaboration of two young minds, testing the boundaries of what they could get away with.

Everyone needs that extra "push," to take ideas into action. It normally began with "my parent's would kill me if they knew," in which I had endless arsenal of "well, don't tell them and don't get caught." At 15, I spent a year as an orphan. When I was placed in the care of a family friend, I quickly became best friends with the two sisters my age. I was a year between the two..While I was close with both girls, the older one and I quickly became accomplices in many shenanigans.

Aided by the fact that I wasn't a biological child, and didn't feel the same fear of God when it was time for consequences imposed for breaking parent's "house rules," I helped the other kids break them with ease.

At the age of 15, while living apart from my parents, my dad bought me a 1989 blue Mitsubishi Mirage. I felt strangely suspicious that the car was for his own use, but when he gave me a key and let me use it whenever I visited, I was sure it was mine.

My dad, eternally a kid; always outfitted in camouflage and tie dye, with a can of beer in hand, lived conveniently close to my high school. The older sister, Ashley and I began smoking pot together, and we would skip classes often, listen to The Doors, make waffles and drive that blue mitsubishi around town. We ~~felt like we~~ were the shit.

We found other ways to get a little stoned together in the evenings as well. We'd say we were going to the YMCA to workout. Which was true, we did go to the Y...But, we also went to a nearby friends house. We'd be armed with an explanation of how hungry and exhausted we were from our kickboxing class.

These little trips to the YMCA and around town just weren't cutting it for us. It was time to push the boundaries. We did an unintentional "warm-up" drive. It was the middle of the school week, and we figured a great time to "run away." We had about a quarter tank of gas, and no money. But, that's what spontaneous adventures are all about, right?

Ashley was the designated drive because she had her driving permit. We made it about 20 miles beyond Seattle, before we were penniless and out of gas. A kind woman at a gas station gave us 5 bucks, which was enough to get us home, and back to the school in time for "mom" to pick us up in her suburban.

The secret of our adventure was elating. We began plotting how we could really run away, all we needed was money. At 15, our job options were chores which allowed us to collectively save up $40. We figured it was enough to execute our plan: a Labor day weekend camping trip at the sand dunes in Eastern Washington, followed by a road trip to our final runaway destination: Las Vegas.

We chose Labor Day weekend for our getaway. It was conference week, and the perfect opportunity for us to buy a little bit more time before anyone noticed we were missing. We went to school as usual on Friday morning. After school began, we crossed the field and walked over to my dad's. Once we picked up my Mitsubishi, we drove over to Ashley's house to stock up on some essentials; peanut butter, bread, crackers, our bags we had packed the night before.

It was so nerve-racking to be at her parent's empty house, loading up a car we didn't have a license to drive, with big plans for a runaway. It took about eight minutes of us frantically gathering all of our belongings we needed. When we jumped in the car, to drive off, the key wouldn't start. Panic flooded through our veins. Oh my god, what the hell will we do?! I yelled "call Gabe!," a neighborhood thug who we were friends with. It seemed like a reasonable assumption that he would know how to hot wire a car.

In my panic of trying to turn the key, I realized it was simply locked, all that was needed was a little wiggle of the wheel while simultaneously turning the ignition. What a close call.

We sped off with no maps, on a 300 mile journey. I had spent a few months prior living with a friend in Eastern Washington, and knew the highways over the mountains to the sand dunes by heart. We drove with the windows down, Sublime blasting and the smoke of Camel cigarettes billowing out the windows. Free at last! Once we made it into Moses Lake, the town of the dunes, we strategized how we would get some Mike's Hard lemonade and set up camp.

Walking through the aisles of a local grocery store, we spotted two guys who appeared to be in their mid-twenties, they looked like good candidates to buy us some alcohol. The two guys happened to be from a band traveling through town on tour and invited us back to their tour bus (which was a gutted school bus, painted with their logos) to have a couple drinks. We figured no harm, and hung out with the group called "Two Camel Garage" for a couple of hours. When they had to leave to go perform at a Tavern, we planned a way to get past the police guards at the entrance to the sand dunes.

My little Mistubishi barely made it through the sand to a camping spot. We had to have a guy setting up camp next to us plow the car through the sand into a parking spot where it wouldn't be in the way of traffic. Just as we were drinking our 3rd, or maybe it was our 4th Mike's, and driving our tent stakes into the sand, my dad drove up...

Stay tuned for part two...

Soul ajar

2010-10-15T01:05:00.000-07:00

There are some friendships that feel like they're an extension of your soul. It doesn't matter how brief you've known each other, what matters is the level of understanding, trust and laughter you share. It's the person who is by your side, through whatever seasons life leads you. They are there to enjoy the sunshine with you, and hold an umbrella over your head when life sends a rain cloud. I call these bosom friends. They're a kindred spirit you can count on. (Anne of Green Gables, anyone?)

I've always sought out bosom friends. It's more important for me to have a handful of these types of friendships, than a bunch of acquaintances.

I count those who have gave me the giggles and made me smile during adversity these past few months, my bosom friends. Leaving a friends house with sore abs-from laughing too hard, is better than anything I could do at the gym.

Laughter has been my soundtrack lately. Life light-heartedly is a welcomed respite. I think we all take life a little too seriously sometimes. I'm not convinced that we have to be so melodramatic in every endeavor. Where's the fun in that?

Like a ball of yarn unraveling, as it bumps down a staircase, collecting at the bottom in a mass of color, so I am unwinding myself. I used to be too tightly bound, a fit of color hidden in a ball, worried what "people think." Who cares? A life lived in the shadows of what people think is hardly a life.

This is the most apprehensively ecstatic I've ever been. It's a liberating feeling.

A few months ago, I was in a cute little shop in Pioneer Square, where I picked up a book full of quotes from literary legends. I stared intently at this sentence, wondering how I could practically do the instructions. I wanted to eat the words, and have them infect me. It was something so simple, and now, it keeps replaying in my mind:

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."

Emily Dickinson

Is your soul ajar?

Pumpkin devotional

2010-10-13T22:56:00.000-07:00

Red Mango lured me in with two words: "Pumpkin Spice." I have a special love for pumpkins. I think my affinity for them can be traced to cozy fall days, picking the perfectly round one for making jack o' lanterns, dropping them from high places and watching them splatter, and humorously dysfunctional Thanksgivings.

As I sat on the bench savoring pumpkin spice covered with graham cracker crumbs (making a wonderful mess of the crumbs), I wondered why I haven't been eating pumpkin all year long.

I began scheming a day in the kitchen with my own little pumpkin; scooping the slimy guts out, seeds and all, with my bare hands. I started thinking about all the different things I could do with this pumpkin.

Then I remembered my collection of pumpkin recipes from last year! I am a fan of sweet, so all of the pumpkin recipes are some sort of baked good. I recommend pairing them with a strong cup of coffee, and a nice, thick book.

Pumpkin Pancakes A great way to start a crisp October day.

Pumpkin whoopie pies These were lots of fun to make, and very spicy. I can smell the nutmeg, just thinking about them!

Pumpkin oatmeal bites A great snack for on the go.

Gluten free pumpkin pie Who need the crust anyways?

Petite Pumpkin pies They're cute, and the perfect portion.

Pumpkin french toast

Bon appetit!

License to thrill

2010-10-13T01:15:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I made the mistake of having my business plastered on the side of my car, in reflective gold. I was just eager to use whatever gorilla marketing tactics I could think of at the time. Now, I speed around town with my website and business name prominently displayed on my doors, and rear view window. The only response this marketing has elicited has been either men flexing their muscles at me, or people sending hate e-mails about my driving.

One of the e-mails wasn't quite so much about my driving, as it was about my amazing parking skills. I'm fairly certain the sender made up a special e-mail address (fukyou@msn.com) just for me. They were complaining about how close I had parked to them. I happen to pride myself on my parking skills. Every day I go to school, and I thank my peers silently for their inability to parallel park, which leaves a plethora of spaces for me to squeeze into. I've taken to making a bit of a sport out of it. Finding the tightest spots I can squeeze into.

The other e-mail I received recently was from a man who appeared to have just mistaken my car for cutting him off. He went into a sadly humorous rampage about how I could have "left him penniless by damaging his 1994 Bronco."

That's just how we are. We're always quick to contact or call a business to complain when we're offended. I'm still waiting to get a love e-mail about what a wonderful parallel parker I am, or how generous I was to use my blinker...

Recently, I've kept my vehicular offenses mainly to my family, and the city of Seattle. Today I received TWO parking tickets, and grazed my brother's car. Of course he exaggerated, saying "You know when you hit me, you left like 9 different colors on my car from other cars you've scraped? Thanks for leaving me half the rainbow on the side of my car Ayla, that was really sweet of you." I'm sorry, I wish I cared more about the aesthetics of cars, but I don't. Isn't that what bumpers and siding on cars is for? For "bumping, and side swiping?"

If we only had a better transit system, I'd never have to drive again...In the meantime, I'm heavily considering removing these golden letters on my car, they've proved to be more incriminating than marketing.

I'm one year past twenty-one.

2010-10-10T21:12:00.000-07:00

I'm a rain city girl. I've thoroughly surprised myself, once again. How quickly I acclimate to the rain, and take to the indoors. Beginning in October (sometimes earlier), Seattle enters hibernation. Armed with books, soduku puzzles and ipods full of transitive, less perky/more somber music, we cozy up to fireplaces, whilst consuming gallons (no exaggeration) of coffee.

Today, as I sat in a coffee shop reading another expatriate memoir, a girl about four feet tall, absent a front tooth, and freckled cheeks appeared in front me, declaring: "I'm one year past 6." Naturally, I respond "so you're 7?" She nodded, already uninterested in our conversation, her attention diverted by a stack of porcelain cups.

This roundabout admission of her tender age made me think about how I have all these mathematics of days ticking in my mind. Certain mile markers I expect to pass with each age. How I want to be, when I am one year past 24. It made me think, how presumptuous I can get about "accomplishing," before the timing is right. It's a bitter acquisition; to have, when you're not ready.

Lesson learned. Now, I've decided to solely focus on haphazard adventures.
A)They're an endless repository of unique experiences, serendipity and insight
B)Why the hell not?

Presently, sensibility is on a teeter totter with spontaneity. I wonder if both are of equal value in crafting a life? Sometimes I take baby steps. Usually, I take blind leaps. Right now, at one year past 21, I feel old. I know it sounds absurd. But I feel like the distressed rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, fretting about being "very very late, for an important date." Like, I have an appointment with life, with adventure, and I need to hurry.

Whimsical, running late, forgetful, prone to random events & unevents, It's the only way to be.

What do you have a date with?

Ma Francais est terrible!

2010-10-08T00:35:00.000-07:00

I know, It's been a long time since I've shared any food with you. Don't you worry, I am eating. Just not cooking quite as much. With school in full swing, I've taken to easy salads, and sweet potatoes. I could practically live off of these two foods. Except for the fact that I love chocolate, and the sensory experience that a day in the kitchen provides. I keep planning "cooking dates" with myself, but then I call and cancel. Maybe, next weekend...

If I'm not consumed with studying French, doing circus tricks, reading, writing, or stretching... I'm rather determined to learn quite a few new things lately, and a second language is high on my list.

Speaking of that French class, my teacher seemed a little bit testy today. She didn't approve of my "stick figure drawing" of ma famille! In fact, she collected everyone else's work and then quickly paced back to my desk to show me a picture that an obviously artistically gifted classmate drew. I remarked "those look like anime!" She wasn't moved by my compliment.

Later, she balked at my ugly sentence I wrote on the white board: "J'aime trapezistes!" Her face wrinkled up as she said, "Oh, no, no, no! Who wrote that?!" Apparently, that's completely incorrect, what I should have said is "je suis trapeziste!"

I don't mind my terrible French sentences being mocked for the rest of the class to learn from, of course not. It's all a chance to learn. I just think it's funny how personally my mistakes are taken! But, I'll show her...

I've covered my room in a tacky collage of post-its with French words....Voila!

Which month shall I return to France to brush up on some new words? Hmm...

Maybe I'll spin around 10 times, then see which month my finger lands.

Coffee and a composition of words

2010-10-03T23:59:00.000-07:00

Every Saturday a group of locals and travelers passing through meet up at Cafe Racer in the
U-district for a hybrid of scrabble-poetry. Coffee, words, and groggy Saturdays are très Seattle.

Amazingly, I arrived on time...I didn't quite know what to do with my punctual self, so I ordered a pita plate with house made hummus, and a "very dry" cappuccino. The hummus wasn't as good as the waitress boasted, but still good topping for the pitas.

The coffee served is from local roaster, Caffé Vita. The coffee in itself is very good, the cappuccino, regrettable. A sad, wet, soy latte, topped with a whisper of foam. I'm not a picky girl, but I do have my coffee preferences, and I really look forward to this small pleasure; a porcelain cup filled to the brim with frothy, marshmellowey [please excuse my invented word] foam. I'm forgiving, but my years as a barista have instilled a demand for intricate cafe preferences.

[Dear Cafe Racer barista, if you're reading this, I do love you and your quaint little shop, the service was wonderful, but please, please remember to aerate the milk better next time-it should have a high pitched sprinkler sound.]

Cafe Racer is full of "trashy art," which includes a pastel collage of Jesus' face made from Easter Peeps...I just now caught the double entendre of the piece.

In the "Obama room," behind our table, a group of diner's had a photo-worthy spread laid out on their tables. They were good sports, and allowed us to snap a photo.

The game score ended in the modest 100's...Next time I am aiming for the 200's. Here is a sampling of the poetry composed from the board:

I hung my halo, by moi

A pair

A pint

A stoned vow

An axel

An edgy ex

I sat

I eyed

I grew

I hung my halo

I grew

Other poem here

Kling ON! Nice C (I'm abbreviating) by Ahmed

Pithy fig zag ve vee

Ma mi mi

Eyed a fig stone

Zag ram Zag ram ti

Continue reading

Young fig by Melanie

A fig grew over her nice...Read more

Scrabble Poems

2010-10-03T23:22:00.000-07:00

These are poems composed strictly from the words played out on a Scrabble board...

Pithy Vows by Ayla

Edgy, a vow

A pithy vow

A pair sat, stoned

A pair grew

A pair hung

An axel can sift a pair

O, a pair

I hung my halo by Ayla

A pair, a pint, a stoned vow

A sifter, an axel, an edgy ex

I sat

I eyed

I grew

I hung my halo

I grew

Kling ON! Nice C (I'm abbreviating) by Ahmed

Pithy fig zag ve vee

Ma mi mi

Eyed a fig stone

Zag ram Zag ram ti

Sift edgy pro

Zag ram zag ram ti

Kiddo a pro

Pithy hung qi

Bud vow grow

knew know knew

Sifty edgy pro

Hung edgy pro

Hung ex clit

Pair fig stoned

Vow rail, kiddo

Hung nice qi

Hung axel ti

Hang ee if

Que que qi

Zag ve vee

Halo mi mi

Bun edgy pro

Bud axel grwo

Rail ram if

Can can

Knew

Clit clit

Pro

If welt knew

Hung axel grow

If pints Halo

If rails, qi

Ve vee vee

Ve axel knew

Young fig by Melanie

The fig grew over her nice clit

As I sat stoned, I eyed her edgy halo

"Kiddo, have a pint of beer."

Le divorce

2010-10-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

I Am

Solo: noun, plural -los, -li /-li/

adjective, adverb, verb
1. a musical composition or a passage or section in a musical composition written for performance by one singer or instrumentalist, with or without accompaniment: She sang a solo.

I am a composition, a passage, a selection, without accompaniment. I am a verb, an adjective, a noun. I am singing, solo.

I particularly like the way French author Voltaire described the Phoenix;

A thousand shades of gold.

Dreams, the sleeping kind

2010-10-01T00:51:00.000-07:00

I have been having some of the strangest dreams lately. I usually disregard them, but some are recurring, and maybe there is a theme? I don't know, but I actually look forward to going to sleep now, because I know I will have some kind of surreal experience.

Here are some of the dreams I've had lately, from what I can recall, and some images that somewhat resemble pieces of my dreams:

A recurring dream is that someone is trying to get into the house, or hovering directly above me. I'm generally half-awake during this time, and try desperately to move my limbs, to get up and check that I've locked the door. I semi-consciously imagine myself slipping down the stairs and pushing people out as they're trying to open the door. I haven't yet been able to actually wake up and check the locks, and I usually go to sleep without double checking them. I'm not paranoid, but it's like I'm weary of someone trying to get inside.

Hilarious dreams...Sometimes I wake up laughing. It's elating to wake up laughing, I don't always know what it's about..But, a recent dream was that I was staying in a huge estate in France with my mom, and an obese boy in a superhero costume tries to cuddle with me. I escape, running for about 5 minutes (it's a very large house) to the office, and slam the door, locking it and picking up the phone...Only, I don't know the emergency number because I'm in France. By the time I realize this, I look to see the "superhero" at the French doors, peering in, with a set of keys to open the door. Message? I'm going to be pursued by an obese post-pubescent boy in lycra in France?

"I'm gonna get ya!"

Practical dreams...This is the kind of dream I find easy to make sense. My five pound Pomeranian, Leopold, has taken to chewing on my personal belongings. Never mind that he has several actual chew toys designated for that purpose...The underwire and lace on an expensive bra is more fun! So, when I have dreams about me trying to stomp on him for chewing the straps off my Birkenstocks, it makes sense. Message? Don't leave lingerie on the floor (even if that seems like it's natural place).

He couldn't possibly be thinking about eating my Birkenstocks!

My beloved shoes.

Thought provoking dreams...This one, I had last night. I can't get the image out of my head. I was walking down a long hallway at school and ran into an old friend. We embraced in a hug, and made plans to not let so much time pass between us again. As I walked by a mirror, I noticed a new mole right in the middle of my forehead. When I stared deeper at it, it opened up into a pair of lips shaping an o, and then a tongue poked out. It reminds me of the Eastern concepts of the third eye..Of course my third eye would be a mouth! That's just what I need. I was afraid of being discovered and got out of the building as quick as possible..I frantically ran down the street, ducking for cover in a parking lot, and then it began to rain. I noticed police cars driving around the area on patrol for me. I was hiding to protect this newly acquired oriphice...I don't really want to make any conclusions about this one yet...But, I'm open to suggestions/ideas.

Tell me I'm not the only one with vivid, nonsensical dreams?

Sweet Scrabbled Saturday

2010-09-25T20:23:00.000-07:00

Sacred Saturday mornings, a perfectly permissible reason to sleep in. Yet, some crazy dreams of being chased by the F.B.I woke me up at 8 o'clock. Groggily stumbling down the stairs, I mustered up enough energy to brew a pot of coffee . The reward of caffeine coursing through my veins, animating my limbs to get dressed, do hair, be human, is well worth the risk of nearly breaking a leg in a sleepy staircase daze.

Running a few customary minutes late-I think I'm addicted to the panicky "rush" of running late; I dashed out the door to pick up Elise, an old high school friend.

She's actually the only one from those days that I keep more than a facebook distance with. Someone I would actually say hi to if I saw her in public (tell me you have avoided someone you know, but is more of an acquaintance and you'd rather not take the time out to say an awkward hello, too?).

Elise greeted me, with her Weiner dog Eddie hoisted on her hip and a phone on one ear...A resemblance to my other mom-friends, except this baby can be left alone, for several hours. Which is exactly what we did as we ventured to Cafe Racer for a Scrabble game, followed with poetry from the words we played.

Let me indulge you with some of our vocabulary:

[I can recall these words, because they were my own, some were quite valuable!]

Sex

Meats

Loin

Rile

Elf

[Actual poems can be found here]

The exercise of turning scrabbled words into poetry was a good challenge. I think I struggled the most because many of the words did not come from my own imagination. I realize that words are fluid, but I tend to have a sense of entitlement and loyalty to words, these words that were played from others felt borrowed. But, it's nice to share words...

And sweet memories, as Elise and I commenced to do, in every literal sense of the word sweet. I couldn't be in such proximity to Cupcake Royale, without stopping in and buying a cupcake, or five...To share, I promise.

Sunshine afforded the luxury of sitting outside with a seasonally brilliant Huckleberry Cupcake, paired with coffee of course.

I decided on the salted caramel, lemon drop, huckleberry, and carrot cake for export.

These freshly baked cupcakes were divvied up and ~~sacrificed~~ shared with friends.

They lasted long enough to pose for the camera.

Vivant, still.

2010-09-23T21:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I took an impulsive road trip to visit my older sister in good ol' Lewiston, Idaho, the land where I was made. I always forget the stench of the paper mill in between visits. It was my first time meeting my nephew, Jonny. He is so dreamy, and it was fun being a "fish out of water," playing with a toddler. Those kind of weekend impulses are good for the soul.

En route, I was accompanied by hours of Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Radiohead, Beirut, and a little Gogol Bordello blaring as wind whipped my face and miles of highway stretched before me.

Midway there, I had my first experience checking my oil. Because I really didn't know what to look for, I was confident pouring a quart in for good measure would suffice. Plus, the sun was closing in and I wanted to make it into Idaho at a decent hour, so I didn't waste much time at stops along the way.

When I got into town, it was late and dark. I stopped in at a KFC to "freshen up," before arriving at my sisters'. The teenagers behind the counter observed me as if I was an alien from another planet; their bemusement indicative of a small-town. It's a familiar reception, reminding me of my first day as the "new girl," at a high school in "farmer's town, " where Carhartts were what the popular kids wore...

The chicken scratch directions I had frantically copied from my dying iphone served me well in leading me to my sister. I pulled up and she was waiting out on the front porch for me. As soon as I stepped out of my car, she gave me one of those big, sisterly hugs, endearingly crying: "why do I always cry?!" I laughed and said "maybe it's because we only see each other every few years..." Which is a shame considering I make my way across the country more often than I stop in to visit Idaho. Maybe you've been there? Maybe you know why family is the only attraction for visiting often.

A couple of times during the visit, I had the chance to drive around my old hometown solo. I stopped in at Starbucks to pickup an icy cold drink and asked the barista for directions by describing a park I used to play at. My memory's description actually led me to the correct park, where I spent an afternoon filled with nostalgic memories of feeding squirrels peanuts and pretending to be Pippi Longstocking (see evidence of my obsession in exhibit A).

I preferred to be Pippi most of the time

On my last morning, my sister made me a Dutch baby pancake, a favorite of mine. It was love at first bite when I discovered Dutch babies last Christmas when I needed an excuse to try out my new Le Creuset griddle. I have to admit that hers were so much better than mine. This inspired a need to rework my recipe, maybe use a different pan, stay tuned for a recipe.

The three days were filled with much needed uproarious, rolling-on-the-floor, peeing-your-pants (sorry, sis) laughter. I savor the simple trips to see an old friend or relative, and have made it a mission to do more often.

But for now (sigh), I am staying grounded in Washington as I'm busy whittling away at my last year of college before transferring. I honestly cannot believe I am getting credit to go to daily writer's workshops, practice French, and study communications. I'm devouring my textbooks.

I'm currently plotting/scheming a big trip/move in June, but I hope you come with me on my petite voyages in the meantime.

Thanks for reading,

Yours, truly.

Pieces of Paris

2010-08-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

Today, I have allowed to be an entire day punctuated by pleasures. Croissants are my commas and images of Eiffel towers are my exclamation points. In each sentence, I've decided to compose words, flavors and scents that bring a smile to my soul.

In missing Paris, I've gone on a quest through my city, gathering pieces of Paris. No, nothing compares. But, when it's thousands of miles and months away from another voyage...I make due.

I commenced the day with a trip down the hill to Le Panier, a "very French bakery." I ordered A la framboise, which is a croissant filled with rasberry jam.

The crispy exterior was sticky to the touch, and the first flaky bite offered a burst of raspberry. As I sipped my coffee, I peered around to make sure nobody noticed me licking the jam that inevitably coated my thumbs. After catching a few other diners doing the same, with both eyes blissfully closed, I knew my precautions weren't necessary.

After breakfast, I took mon deux petit chiens on a walk along the pier, allowing the sea breeze to wash over me and perfume my hair with the smell of salt water. A heat wave has struck Seattle, making is perfectly easy to close my eyes and imagine I was in Provence. Open, and back in Seattle...For now.

After walking the dogs, I walked to the harbor steps where a live jazz band played, and a crowd of tourists and people on their lunch break all assembled on the stairs to enjoy the music. This sight of people all sharing an effervescent moment under the sun together on a lunch break conjured memories of Paris picnics.

Later, I walked down to a recent discovery, Belle Pastry, for some dejeuner. I have passed by this pastry shop a few times, always when it's closed.

The French pastries in the window looked beautiful, as their name claims. However, I was somewhat alarmed by them sitting in their pretty display case, posing for people passing by. I wondered, "do they throw those away and replace them with fresh in the morning?" It just seems unthinkable to serve day-old pastries.

To my fortune, they were sampling chocolate meringues and my fears were confirmed. The meringue did not dissolve in my mouth, it was crunchy, and rough. Not at all like the sweet meringues of my Paris memories. I passed on any treats and just ordered a Jambon and Fromage sanwhich on a baguette, with an Orangina for refreshment, naturally.

Sitting in that shop, alone, I wondered why it wasn't full of lunchtime chatter and laughter. Business people from offices nearby did come to order takeout, likely to be eaten while they were working...Which, I would say is a stark contrast to the general vibe I got in France, where they take rest and relaxing seriously, rightly so.

En route to home, I stopped in at Paris Grocery to poke around and compare it to the real deal....The wine selection was impressive, and I picked up some amazing chevre to take home, along with a baguette from Macrina bakery...Just to be safe.

It was a day of decadence, and my arteries are still recovering. In the American fashion, I have commenced penance with hours on the elliptical...But, it was all worth it.

Le Panier, located at Pike Place market
Belle Pastry, in Pioneer Square
Paris Grocery, right down the hill from Pike Place, across from World Spice Market
Macrina Bakery, on the cuff of Belltown

A World of Spice

2010-08-04T10:52:00.000-07:00

The world of spice is an intricate history of power, discovery and wealth. A history nearly as old as humanity, dating back to around 3500 B.C., when spices were employed by Egyptians in flavoring food, for cosmetic use and embalming their dead.

The whole world was built around spices; it is a trade that has caused wars, exploration to new lands and fueled empires.

For centuries, Europe, Asia and the Middle East were in a delicate balance with each other, measured ounce by ounce in peppercorns, cinnamon and saffron.

As a highly valued sensual pleasure, it was used for offerings to gods, currency and a bridge for international alliances. Spices have been treasured by cultures over the years because they are a preservative and were used to cover rancid tastes, and smells that were a product of no refrigeration.

At the World Spice Merchants, a global trade is shared with consumers of higher conscience than the local grocers sad ensemble of stale seasonings.

The Merchants source their spices from over 40 countries. The focus is on fresh; Spices are carried whole and ground upon request in quantities sufficient to enhance a meal or the menu of a restaurant. Having the ability to order that pinch of spice rather than a whole bottle makes World Spice Merchants a foodie's favorite.

The shop carries spices, herbs, teas and spice blends that have been created by the the staff, influenced by their travels, and chefs that customize and tweak spice blends. The shop is employed with "recovering chefs and foodies," said Holly Morris, Operations Manager. Their culinary knowledge keeps the Merchants on top of the epicure populaire.

Exploration abroad to encounter the unknown and travelling in pursuit of pleasure and spice is a tradition that the founder Tony Hill instilled when he created World Spice Merchants in 1995. New owner, Amanda Bevill carries the tradition, scouring the world for new spices. On a recent trip, Bevill discovered Tasmanian Pepperberry on the menu at a restaurant. Intrigued, she tasted and proceeded to source and carry the Pepper.

keeping time with the world of spices

As for future conquests, Operations Manager Holly Morris and Owner Amanda Bevill plan on attending the Piment d'Espelette festival in France to find a source to feed the requests of local French chefs. "We get requests for it and we want to be able to carry it," said Morris. They shall return with a new spice en route from France.

The shop produces an expanding profile of spice blends, they currently carry over 200 different blends. In the fall, look for Vadouvan, a French blend and Turkish curry to make an appearance.

Voyage the world with exotic spices. Don't be surprised if it induces a desire to discover more. It's perfectly permissible, as the World Spice Merchants carry hundreds of spices that lend to infinite combinations.

World Spice Merchants are located at 1509 Western Ave Seattle, WA. They ship nationally and can receive orders at their website.

A tango with Buenos Aires Grill

2010-07-30T09:17:00.000-07:00

Add caption

Just a stones throw away from my Seattle home sits the Argentinian flame known as Buenos Aires Grill. It has been walked by several times unnoticed. After being gifted a certificate to the grill, I could ignore the place no more.

Walking into the restaurant is stepping across the boarder to South America, a rather classy South America. Traditional Argentine paintings decorate the terracotta walls, huge bottles of wine line the ledge behind the entry way. A glow of lanterns warms up the scene, transporting you to a place of endless sun. Exotic spices aromate the room and your appetite suddenly pleads for empanadas and chorizo.

[via iphone]

A waitress kindly seated me at a large black leather chair facing the grill. I could see sparks rising up the wall as flames licked steaks on the grill. I began my meal with a Cordero empanada, ground leg of lamb with raisins, scallions and garlic. It was a tango of gamey lamb dancing with argentine spices that kisses you with the sweetness of raisins, all of which is folded neatly into a small seashell of dough.

As I dined, the jovial table next to me became increasingly rowdy with each glass of wine. Amused, I listened to their Spanish attempts with the waiter, who humbly answered any request.

When my entree arrived, I was overwhelmed with the task of my brochettes; steak, bacon and grilled sweet red peppers resting on a heaping bed of sweet potato fries. Between sips of red wine and steak broschettes, I dreampt of stepping out into a thick, stifling heat, rather than the brisk typical Seattle summer evening that awaited me.

Steak brochettes with sweet potato fries [via iphone]

After transcending to heaven via crispy fragrant, golden sweet potato fries, I left the table with the remainder of my meal unfinished...Rightly so, as it were the most generous portions, a match for the generous price. In my observance, the more expensive a meal, the smaller the portions. This is not so at the Buenos Aires Grill, or any other South American restaurant in my experience. The grill is definitely worth a second visit, if only to sink into more empanadas.

Price and special events: The price is steep, but sharing is quite possible, a modest bottle of wine runs about $30, but they have happy hour Monday-Friday 5-7pm and 10pm and later, so plan accordingly. Go on the weekends at 8pm to watch live tango dancers.

Location:
220 Virginia Street Seattle, WA 98121
(206)441-7076
Website

Avignon

2010-07-24T07:48:00.000-07:00

Early Saturday morning, Shelby and I awoke in Toulouse to take the train to Avignon. Our host had just returned from picking up some croissants and a baguette at the Boulangerie...How does one survive so many of these breakfasts? After our petit dejuener, we were dropped off at the train station with barely enough time to catch our train. What's an adventure without almost missing a train though?

When we arrived in Avignon, we stepped into hot, breezy air. Walking outside to look for our Avignon host, we were hoping that he had not came and gone. After about 10 minutes of searching and walking up to strangers to see if they were him, a guy that did not resemble the photo on couchsurfers approached us, asking "are you two the American girls?" I guess it really is that obvious..Our host Ghislain had sent his friend to pick us up from the station.

As we drove off into the country, we arrived at our couchsurfing host, Ghislain's home, which was more of a family estate. There were three villas on the plot with relatives living on the same property in their own homes.

We were given a tour of the home, shown to our room and enjoyed a walk through the family orchards. Afterwards, the four of us headed into town to check out the theatre festival and see Avignon.

Because of the festival, traffic in town was thick and we had to park outside of the walled part of the city. There was a shuttle bus into town, so we parked and boarded it. The bus was so crowded, there was standing room only, and just when I thought we couldn't squeeze any closer together, the bus driver found it possible to accomodate three more passengers. Like something from a comedy, the short overcrowded shuttle bus drove us into town.

The city was covered in posters advertising different theatrical events. On every corner, there were performances of some kind, with captivated onlookers huddled around.

We walked up to a park for a breathtaking view of Avignon and it's famous bridge that collapsed in the mid 1600's, to never be restored. The grass in the park was freckled with lovers lounging in the grass, and children running around.

Suddenly the wind picked up, and I was regretting wearing a dress. "Those are called mistral winds," said Ghislain. After climbing up to a point on a hill, we walked down to a boat for a short ride across the river.

Once on the other side, we walked a bit more and then found somewhere to eat. After a salad chevre aux chaud, which is a salad topped with hot goat cheese resting on toasted bread, and a quarter pichet of Rose, we drove back to Ghislain's.

The next day was spent next to the pool, soaking up as much sun as possible. In the evening, we drove out to Les baux de provence, a small village in the hills that was once a commune.

Dusk is the best light to experience something so enchanting. As the sky wavered from blue to pink, I looked out to see hills casting their shadows on the valley below, slowly consuming the ground with darkness.

When we returned home, Ghislain's mom showed me how to make possibly the best olive tapenade I've ever tasted, and the family assembled outside under the stars for a late dinner. The next morning, we woke and shared breakfast with Ghislain's girlfriend Doriane, and then walked out to the orchards to collect some fresh figs.

With a bag heavy with figs, and various treats, we walked to the station in Avignon. As we left, I settled into my music and felt the comforts of being destined for home. Even if Paris is a temporarily adopted home.

Toulouse

2010-07-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

On a train to Toulouse, fields of sunflowers blurred by as I sat on a train headed for Toulouse with Shelby next to me reading a book we picked up at the famous english literature bookstore “Shakespeare and company” in Paris.

Our adventure began with us collecting our "pass" at the Paris station from a ticket inspector our friend connected us with.

Because I had never met the ticket inspector my friend contacted, I searched for the name tags of the train workers, all in Purple polo shirts with black railroad hats.

After identifying him, I asked if he was the friend who was to help us board. Well, apparently my French was convincing or confusing enough to provoke a response in French, I understood “Coach one, compartment seven,” in French.

Hoping this meant what I think it did, Shelby and I wandered through the narrow aisles of the train with our luggage in search of a sign that might say “voiture 7,” (car 7) in one of the windows. The only sign I noticed was for “voiture 5,” so we decided to try for coach 2. It must have been a mistake. We couldn’t possibly be riding aboard first class.

By luck, we ran into the inspector again, and he looked confused with why were we in the 2^nd coach, after he had clearly pointed us to the 1^st coach. In broken French/English, which I’m getting increasingly better at, I understood we needed to return to first class.

After rolling back through the narrow aisles to the first coach gave up on looking for compartment seven and settled in across from a gentleman in a larger first class compartment. I was relieved to see the inspector pass by us and say “c’est bon?” (it is good?) We nodded, “oui, it was good!” After acquainting ourselves with our compartment mate, enough to get his assistance in French if needed, we settled in to our books and the train sped off into the countryside.

After being lulled by the train for about 30 minutes of napping on my elbow, I awoke. Determined to stay awake, I read a couple more pages of my book.

Suddenly, a woman ticket inspector entered our compartment. “oh no, this is it I thought.” I tried for “Je voudrais....” (I would like our friend) and breaking into my English in frustration I went for “Your coworker has our tickets,” she understood “you don’t have your tickets?” I nervously thought “oh no, we've been caught” I began to feel anxious. The French speaker sharing our compartment saved us with, a few simple words and she understood that her coworker would be taking care of us…

I settled back into my seat for a moment and then decided to go to the water closet, inspecting the aisles for any “officials” who might be coming to get Shelby and I, but all I saw was the ticket inspector speaking with his female colleague. Knowing they only do ticket inspections once, I was able to relax for the rest of our six hour ride.

Gazing out my window, allowing my eyes to drink in the French countryside that had some resemblance of my home state of Washington. Except the homes are older than my entire state. The clouds veiling the sky, separated blue from pale yellow fields. I felt so at home. With only five days left in France, I realized my discovery of this country was just beginning.

I love everything about France. I have been seduced by it’s charm, it’s nonchalant beauty of “I don’t give a damn,” its metro stations with accordian buskers, it’s ancient cobblestone streets and pieces of history everywhere you turn. There really is just something about it. I know this won’t be my last visit, I must return...Soon.

I’m already plotting and scheming my next visit here. Of course it’s possible. It just seems all too “American” to view travel and adventure as something to be lusted after rather than grasped. Maybe it’s the proximity to entirely different countries and cultures, but the Europeans sure do get around. Many I’ve met have been to more U.S. cities than I have, and I’ve lived here 22 years.

The six hour train ride afforded plenty of time to daydream, see castles blur by and ponder. When we arrived in Toulouse, our couchsurfing host for the evening met us at the station. It was evening, and we got to see Toulouse at dusk, my favorite light to see a place. Much of the city was covered with red brick buildings and walls. Toulouse is also known as the "red city," our host told us. We took a ferris wheel that was next to the river and then walked through the city in the glow of street lights.

The night ended with us sitting outside a cafe, sipping wine to the soundtrack of laughter, chatter and Macy Gray playing from inside the restaurant.

A bridge in Toulouse

Bastille Day, Paris style.

2010-07-19T18:29:00.000-07:00

Every year growing up, I eyed the holiday of Bastille day on the calendar, just 10 days after the fourth of
July...Wondering why we didn't celebrate this day that was on the calendar..Or why it was on the calendar if it wasn't something we acknowledged...

Either way, I was puzzled until sometime around middle school and the discoveries of Marie Antoinette, with whom my grandmother shares a name, and stories of the French revolution.

Well, little attention was paid to this foreign holiday, until I came to Paris..Paris, France. When I made my home exchange arrangements, I noted that I'd be in Paris for both my native "independance day," and the French's.

I'd like to begin by contrasting our Independence day in America. I can safely say that it is celebrated with a barbecue, hot dogs of course, with maybe some marshmallows, lots of sunburned people standing on the porch drinking beers, and kids and grown-up kids playing with fireworks, starting the occasional fire all the while the radio is blasting hits from any decade but the current..Tell me I'm not alone in this experience?

Heading to France amidst the biggest national holiday, Bastille day was intriguing. How do they do it, I wondered? After connecting with a Paris couchsurfing group, I decided to join a group of acquaintances and fresh faces for the traditional "Bal des Pompiers," which means "Fireman's ball." The tradition that has long been celebrated is a day when the firemen open their barracks and host a nightlong party with dancing, live music, with food and drinks.

From the looks of it, the fireman's ball has progressed into something a little more modern, and I wouldn't technically call it a "ball," in any traditional sense of the word.

When we arrived to the barracks, there was a long line outside, with red, white and blue streamers overhead that reached from one side of the narrow Parisien street to the other.

My travel mate, Shelby and I hopped over to get in line with some familiar faces and friends and entered the ball. After surveying the barracks, it was clear that anything like a "fire," or an "emergency" would impede on the festivities. There were four makeshift bars open serving, surprisingly, merguez sausages, fries, and of course beers. Other bars only offered wines, and champagne to celebrate.

As dusk settled in, the music got louder and more people trickled in. On one side of the barracks in the outdoors, a live DJ played dance music, and the other side was entertained by some sort of variety group playing 80's classics...

The sight of these firemen relishing their evening of prominence was hysterical, amusing and slightly unbelievable. I had never seen anything like it, which made the night all the better.

Bastille day in Paris was perfect. We missed out on fireworks because of rain, but fireworks are predictable...The show inside the Bal des pompiers was something new.

After hours of dancing, making new friends and seeing how the French celebrate, I headed to the crowded metro and enjoyed the familiar buzz, wind and high pitched squeal of the brakes we stopped at each station. Eventually, I settled into bed, content.

Normandy

2010-07-15T14:24:00.000-07:00

After two wonderful days in Saint Malo, Jesse and I walked down to the train station and picked up our rental car. The GPS was unavailable, so I was glad to have picked up a map that seemed to end between Brittany and Normandy...But it got us on the right road. Travelling with just the two of us, nostalgic French accordion streaming from the radio and a map in hand was my vision of a very French road trip.

We made our way to the Mont Saint Michel, a French Commune located on an island that is accessible during low tide, but enca sed by water during a high tide. The the island which was established in 708 withstood the 100 year's war, held political prisoners, priests and monks.

It was incredible walking through such vast history. When we finished our walk through the Mont Saint Michel, we headed for Caen in Normandy, where our host Stef from couchsurfers received us and showed us an unforgettable night in Normandy

We began the evening with a trip into the hills of Normandy, where we visited an old calvados distillery, which was housed in a traditional Norman-style barn, "older than the French revolution," our guide told us. Calvados, a distilled form of Cider is a specialty of the Normandy region, alongside amazing dairy products, namely their butter and cream.

As Stef translated, our guide, the wife, who married into generations of calvados distillery, and history showed us how the calvados was made for hundreds of years, on equipment that has been outpaced by factory-style distilleries. The private tour ended with a sampling of the calvados, which led to Jesse purchasing a "magnum" bottle of the stuff.

After the tour, we drove to Caen with our host Stef, and attended his friend's "versinnage," a photography showing accompanied with food and drinks held in an artsy movie theatre. We were introduced to a wonderful clan of friends, who welcomed us into their circle for the evening.

A dinner for a party of about 20 at an Italian restaurant downtown Caen proceeded the versinnage. We bumped into some fellow American's from Tennessee who were being hosted by another guy from the area. They were almost more foreign to us Seattlites than the French. Their host had an adoration for Seattle that nearly matched my adoration for France, and I contemplated how my hometown could be nearly as admirable as his...

After the dinner, Jesse and I accompied Stef to his friend's home, where we played Texas Hold Em' until I purposely lost at 4am (I was winning!). Although only 2 out of the 10 or so playing spoke fluent english, we were united by cards and poker chips. The fluent english-speakers teased the poker dealer, who apparently cheated his way through english exams. It was humorously apparent when he kept instructing me to buy in with the wrong amount of poker chips.

After we got settled in at Stef's apartment, the shutters were closed to block out the approaching day, a wonderful feature nearly all the homes I've seen in France have, and we all slumbered until noon.

Upon waking, Stef took us to the Boulangerie where we picked up some breakfast: a baguette and three croissants. We enjoyed our Petit Dejeuner, French for breakfast, with some of Stef's homemade orange jam, and had what the French like to call a "long morning."

Stef was kind enough to drive us to our train, and we waved goodbye to our newfound friend in Normandy as our train headed back to Paris.

A trip to Brittany

2010-07-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

Wednesday morning, Jesse and I packed up and headed to the train station for a break from the City. We visited the Brittany and Normandy region for three, wonderfully relaxing days. Our first destination was Saint Malo, a walled-in port city in the Brittany region of France.

When our train stopped, we got off and headed to the nearest diner for a Petit Dejuener, it's a breakfast that comes stocked with a baguette, croissant, jam, semi-salted butter, orange juice and honey. I caught myself wondering with the French balance a carby croissant with a piece of bread. But the question was countered with a remembrance of the typical oatmeal and toast or bacon and eggs served up at home..Which is essentially the same idea. With that thought to rest, I enjoyed my petit dejuener, every buttery flake of the croissant was a repentance for all the croissants I have abstained in my life. If ever there is a place to eat a croissant and enjoy demi-salted butter, it's France.

After our meal, we wandered down the roads of the Breton village, not too concerned of our hotel destination. Saint Malo is a comfortingly small fishing village, so the prospect of getting lost along the way wasn't too threatening. As we walked towards our hotel along the sea, it was so refreshing to feel a Sea breeze, to smell the salt water and hear Seagulls. It reminded me of home. I didn't realize how much I'd missed the sea until I was happy to hear seagulls. The weather was a nice reprieve from the Paris heat wave that had afflicted us the week prior.

The charm of Saint Malo pulled me in, begging me to stay longer. The city, a canvas of blue, and the people, a casual contrast to the haute couture Parisiens. The area boasted several places for Seafood and Crepes, both specialties to the Brittany region. Saint malo has the highest concentration of Seafood restaurants in Europe, sourcing oysters from the neighboring city of Cancale.

Jesse and I settled in to our room, and then got some recommendations from the hotel owner on where to go for the best Crepes. We walked along the water towards the walled-in sector of Saint Malo and stopped in at Grand Mere Alice for some Crepes and bowls of Cider...About as Breton as it gets.

The typical Crepe/galette includes comte cheese, ham and a fried egg, with the buckwheat galette enveloping them. We both ordered the Midi prix fixe, a three-course meal at a set price. The meal commenced with Bowls of cider, another specialty of the Brittany/Normandy region, followed with our Jambon (ham), cheese, and egg crepe and finally, finished with a salted butter caramel crepe for dessert. Salted butter caramel also seemed to infuse it's way into many Breton treats.

With bellies full of Crepes and cider, we walked the medieval stone streets of the walled-in city full of vacationers, many of them from the U.K. which was a ferry-ride away. We weaved in to shops and walked on top of the wall where we could view people splashing in the turquoise sea below.

On our second day, we went to the city, this time equipped for the beach. We spent a wonderful day exploring, lazing in the sand and playing in castles.

Our third and final day, we walked into town and picked up our rental car for a road trip to Caen, France in the Normandy region.

Stay tuned for Part two, which includes a night in Normandy...

A picnic that lead to Berthillon

2010-07-05T08:06:00.000-07:00

Paris in July is hot. It's wonderfully and sometimes almost unbearably hot. To add to the heat, it is landlocked, the River Seine runs through it of course, but that's not for swimming. There are lots of public piscines (pools), but I enjoy being outside.

So, on Saturday, Jesse and I spent the afternoon strolling through a food market, where we picked up some chicken from a rotissier, some fresh figs, strawberries, a baguette and of course some Rose to cool off with.

With our picnic assembled, we walked down to Port Neuf, the tip of the Ile de la Cite, an island that is in the center of the Seine river. We settled into a partially shaded patch of grass on the island and quickly realized we forgot to think of napkins, utensils or plates, as we were too distracted by the feast before our eyes..So we discretely ate with our hands, and reclined in the grass.

An easy way to meet people in Paris is to bring a bottle opener to the park. You effortlessly attracts nearby picnickers who are in need. Within a few minutes, a young man, about our age jogged over and asked if we had a bottle opener (in French), luckily the French seem to use hand gestures a lot, we got the idea of what he was asking, of course we shared.

People strolling by with a cone to mouth reminded me of Berthillon, a rather legendary ice cream shop in Paris. The Glaces of Berthillon are hailed by many tour guides, websites and blogs, including the authoritative Paris blog of Dave Lebovitz. This ice cream was the Eiffel Tower of ice cream shops in Paris. Something I had to see to conclude if it was touristic or really as grand as it's reputation.

We wrapped up our picnic and walked down the Seine to L'île Saint-Louis, one of the Islands on the Seine and home to Berthillon. I was not at all surpised by the line of heat-stricken tourists and locals. We waited our turn, and picked out a mixture of unique flavours. I got a cone containing three different flavors-yes, I know three scoops is a bit excessive, but I knew I wouldn't return and had to satiate my curiosity..So, I got Rum Raisin, Salted butter caramel, and honey nougat.

I have never had anything as heavenly as Berthillon ice cream. I cannot even pick a favorite out of the three, but have a slight preference towards the honey nougat, but oh the salted butter caramel was perfect and so was the rum raisin.

I have thought of Berthillon many times since my visit, dreaming of the cold, creamy sugary relief from the heat.

It's sweet experiences like this that make a trip memorable.

Making major milage

2010-06-28T14:10:00.000-07:00

Paris is a city most easily viewed by foot or two wheels. My main mode has been walking, and my feet can attest to that. I don't know how these Parisian women seem to effortless "semi-jog" in heels to destinations, but my flats are as fashionable as I can get before wishing to chop my feet off. Common sense would dictate to settle on wearing tennis shoes, but a desire not to stand out like a sore thumb (or big toe) overrules comfort.

However, these feet have taken me to some pretty amazing sights with infinitely more history and cultural wealth than anything I've seen before. Sights that make these aching feet well worth it.

Some architectural highlights of Paris.

From hello to j'adore

2010-06-24T22:25:00.000-07:00

Before coming to Paris, I was persuaded by countless blogs, books and films that the French aren't the most hospitable bunch, and making friends nonetheless would be difficult, if at all possible...Especially with the "Parisiens."

But the Paris I've encountered thus far is Au contraire. The people here are very nice, helpful and I'd even venture to say friendly.

Most encounters have been in broken French/English. But an attempted "Bonjour, Merci, Excuse moi" go a long way. Being impaired by a lack of Fluent French has also given me a new-found compassion for U.S. transplants. It's so easy to feel intimidated and lost at first. But that quickly evaporates with a friendly encounter.

Before coming to Paris, Jesse and I had joined a site called CouchSurfing. It's an amazing way to lodge for free as you travel and meet lots of fascinating people along the way. We've remained fairly dormant on the site because we haven't traveled much since joining. But when we were planning for Paris, I found a place to stay at during a weekend venture outside of Paris, as well as a couchsurfer's community in Paris. The group is composed of locals and travelers passing through.

On day two of Paris, I saw a picnic du jour event hosted by a "couchsurfer" from Paris in the Champ de Mars, a park right under the Eiffel Tower. I thought "pourquoi pas?" (why not).

Armed with some Rose` and a baguette in hand, we headed to the park to look for a picnic blanket that was pictured on the post. However, the park was packed with fellow picnics (could it get anymore French than that?) and we resigned to enjoying the evening on our own. Just as we were about to quit lurking through the park in search of a quilt, I recognized someone from the site.

A group of friends and strangers were sitting in a patch of grass, speaking French (of course). Jesse and I looked at each other, thinking "great...Now what do we do?" I was relieved by an english-fluent traveler from Belgium, a student from China, and handful of other travelers to converse with.

As people arrived, everyone was greeted with a kiss on each cheek. I tried to mask my awkwardness with this close encounter and just act completely normal. Hopefully I was convincing...

Throughout the evening, new people joined our growing group and a handful of nations were represented. As dusk settled, the Eiffel tower sparkled with an angelic glow of lights, music and laughter filled the air as new friends mingled.

Invitations to visit each other's countries were exchanged, and suddenly the language difference was irrelevant with smiles, and words of J'adore (I adore you).

As the night closed in, some locals walked us home and we fell asleep enchanted by this beautiful city of light.

Paris je t'aime

Eating from a can in Paris

2010-06-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

I've arrived in Paris to commence my month-long stay here, and am anxious to regain my equilibrium and start exploring. It's midnight as I write this, 3pm back in Seattle. My body and brain are trying to adjust to this time travel. Jesse seems to have no problem, he slept nearly the entire plane ride and has been passed out for several hours. On the contrary, I was awake nearly entire flight and still feel oddly wired. Our flight here was smooth, aside from my lack of sleep.

Arriving in the Paris airport was when I really began to feel lost in translation. So many signs, all in French, and looking for the nearest Starbucks to have a comfort of home...But after some assistance, we were finally able to catch our shuttle into Paris, with deux grande Cafe de la semaine in hand.

Riding into Paris in the shuttle was an introduction to European traffic 101, with vespas and motorcycles speeding narrowly by the long line of cars.

Once we got into the apartment, we found cute little notes taped all through out it with special directions. On the table, a bottle of Bordeaux and box of blue cheese biscuits (not a fan) awaited us...In hindsight, they were probably meant to go together...Oh well.

After setting our suitcases down, we wandered down to the fran prix rue de lourmel and stocked up on some essentials, including ridiculously fair-priced Camembert cheese and local fresh eggs.

We enjoyed what felt like a gourmet meal, but must confess came from a can: Lentils with pork, topped with a poached farm-fresh egg. This is not typical of us, but we were both hysterical with jet-lag and didn't want to experience a restaurant in that state.

This is only the beginning of an exciting adventure. I will begin acquainting myself with Paris tomorrow, and hope to get some rest soon.

Au revoir!

A home exchange in Paris

2010-05-22T23:22:00.000-07:00

Bonjour!

Oh, the romance of France. In the greeting alone, you are whisked away. This summer, I will have the pleasure of spending an entire month living in Paris.

It will be my first, but certainly not last, trip to the city of light. The opportunity came when I was browsing through house swaps on craigslist. It was this wonderful internet-moment where you stare at the screen thinking, "this is too good to be true."

The ad stated:

"Paris apartment looking to exchange with downtown Seattle apartment for a month this summer."

Prompted by what-ifs, and dreams of sitting sipping coffee outside a cafe as muzique trickled from a street performer nearby...I responded.

Within a week, photos were exchanged, phone calls shared, and flights booked. I am beyond excited.

The myriad of sights and activities is overwhelming. I am busy loosely constructing an itinerary, and wrapping up my Spring quarter at school. I hope I can get it all done in time for Bon voyage!

My friend and travel companion, Jesse will be spending two weeks, and then I will be joined by a good friend for the remainder. This should make for a recipe of romance, adventure and unforgettable days.

If any of you have had the delights of experiencing France, please do share.

I will be blogging my month in Paris, and look forward to sharing my experience with you.

Vivent votre vie!

Photo by Nickel Images

Theo Chocolate Factory tour

2010-02-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

Chocolate, it's dark, handsome and oh so charming. The way it melts in your mouth, warming the soul. I will forever be a devout chocolate lover. Which is why, in celebration of Valentine's Day, Jesse and I went to Theo Chocolate factory. It's like Willie Wonka for grown-ups, only it's so much better.

Theo Chocolate is a leader in Organic, Fair Trade chocolate. The factory is a humble brick building tucked into the Seattle neighborhood of Fremont. The scent of the factory induce pure chocolate euphoria upon entering.

Being that this was my second visit, I was prepared. Avoiding doing too much "tasting" from the cornucopia of chocolate samplings in the gift shop lobby as I waited for the tour to start. Though, the sights were tempting...

Pink Peppercorn and Cherry Milk Chocolate

Our tour guide educated us on the origins of Cacao, as we tasted dark chocolates from Costa Rica, and Madagascar. The guide hinted at flavors attesting the terroir of the chocolate as we happily sampled.

Walking through a warm factory, heated by pipes flowing with pure chocolate is intoxicating.

Cacao nibs in center, cocoa butter to the right

As we entered a room where the cacao nibs are ground into a smooth consistency, the health benefits of chocolate were explained. Some of the main benefits of dark chocolate: It's a vasodilator, improving circulation and lowering blood pressure, it's full of antioxidants and cacao nibs are the second most potent antioxidants behind acai berries, it stimulates endorphins, boosting mood and it's been shown to lower cholesterol. Just be sure to aim for the 70% or higher dark chocolate, and choose organic, fair trade chocolate grown in sustainable environmental and social conditions.

After learning about the processing of chocolate, our group was led into a wonderful little room where all kinds of delightful confections are made.

I especially enjoyed the salted caramel, it's a classic! Some of the other flavors were Lavender-ginger, Lemon curd, and Peanut Butter. The confections by name, are essentially a truffle. It's their anti-conformity to the typical oval shapes of truffles that lends them the label of confection. Regardless of titles, they're little bites of heaven.

The tour ended with a few more bites of chocolate, in the event you didn't get your fill.

If you're near or in the Seattle area, pay Theo a visit, or try out their chocolate bars. To find a carrier of the bars, or learn more, visit here: Theo Chocolate.

To roast a chicken.

2010-02-02T08:10:00.000-08:00

A roasted chicken is a classical, forgiving meal, a basic that I feel every one acquainted with an oven should be able to create. It requires very little preparation, and can be shoved into 400 degrees of heat, and come out marvelously.

It’s the simplicity of roasting a chicken that makes it one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon.
From the labor of transplanting lemons into the cavity formerly occupied with organs, to trussing, then basting, and keeping a watchful eye for that golden crisp, crackling sign of readiness-it's soothing, wonderful kitchen therapy.

To make the most of my heated up oven and hour of wait, I roast some vegetables to accompany the meal, and will sometimes wrap up some beets and sweet potatoes in foil to bake for later reheating.
This evening, I created one of the best chickens I’ve ever roasted. And all without a recipe. As a side, I sliced parsnips and carrots, tossed with thyme, olive oil and salt and added to the chicken about 20 minutes into the cooking, so not to overcook the vegetables.

[side note: Roasting a chicken doesn’t begin with just any old hen however. I am a firm follower in eating organic, free range, locally sourced (as often as possible) meat. I don’t believe the only alternative to eating foster farms and Mcfrankstein meats lies in completely abstaining from meat altogether. And that is why I vote with my fork and my pocket book every time I choose to eat meat. True, organic, free range meat is more expensive, but you get what you pay for; It’s much more nutritious, boasting natural omega 3 fatty acids, vitamins and health benefits that commercially raised lack meats lack.]

Ayla’s Garlic-Thyme Roasted Chicken
Ingredients:
1 4lb organic free range chicken
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp lemon zest (reserve the lemon for stuffing inside the chicken)
3 sprigs of thyme, about 1/2 tbsp
1 tsp kosher or sea salt
Fresh ground black pepper
5-6 garlic cloves, diced
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
Directions:
1. the oven to 450F. Meanwhile, empty the cavity of the chicken, stuff with quartered lemon, truss and set aside in a roasting pan. For directions on trussing, see video above.
2.In a small bowl, mix all ingredients, and baste the chicken, using your hands to massage the garlic-oil mixture into the skin.
3.Set in the preheated oven to roast for about 1 to 1 1/2 hours. The chicken is ready when pressing a knife into the thickest part and the juices run clear.

Roasted Parsnips and Carrots
Ingredients:
3 carrots
2 parsnips
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp olive oil
Kosher or sea salt, to taste
Directions:
1. Julienne carrots and parsnips and add to the roasting chicken about 20 minutes into the cooking, so as to not overcook them.
2. Enjoy with the chicken!

This meal took a total of 1 1/2 hours to make, and was effortless and amazing.

French lentil salad with poached egg

2009-12-09T22:08:00.000-08:00

My friend Jesse is in Culinary school, learning all sorts of fancy Classical French techniques, among them is the art of poaching an egg. Something that tragically, my generation was likely not taught in the kitchen, among other things.

If anyone has seen the egg poaching scene in Julie and Julia, or attempted this on their own, you hopefully can attest that the perfectly poached egg is a learned skill. A skill that is gained through intimate minutes in the kitchen, over boiling water, with watchful eyes, slotted spoon on hand, and a trust-worthy ramekin to crack the egg into if necessary. After a couple attempts, you should be able to poach effortlessly.

This salad includes a few different elements that require some prep. I actually composed this from various leftovers in my fridge. However, poached eggs atop a French lentil salad is more than a mish mash of leftovers, it's heavenly.

I will recommend starting with the lentils and beets, which will take the longest. Save the egg poaching and sauteing for last.

French Lentil Salad with Poached egg

For the lentils:
3/4 C french lentils
1 Tbsp minced shallots 2 tbsp olive oil 1 tbsp cider vinegar 1 tsp dijon mustard 1 tsp sea salt 1 tbsp finely chopped parsley 1/4 tsp white pepper
For the remainder of the salad:
1 beet, cubed
1 cup sliced brussel sprouts (either roasted in casserole dish alongside the beets or sauteed)
1 cup spinach or preffered salad

Directions: Serves 4
1. Preheat oven to 400F, and wrap a few beets (so there's a few extra for later) in foil and set on a baking sheet to bake for one hour.
2. After the beets have been in for about 20 minutes, begin preparing the lentils. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil, when it's boiling, add the lentils and reduce heat to a simmer.
3. Simmer for 20-30 minutes covered until desired texture of the lentils is achieved, they should remain firm to the tooth.
4. Strain the lentils.
5. In a separate bowl, combine shallots, cider vinegar, salt, white pepper, dijon, olive oil, and parsley, whisk until combined, add the lentils and toss.

6. Poach one egg per salad, arrange lettuce, top with warm lentils, peeled and cubbed baked beets, brussel sprouts and then gently top with poached egg.

Gingerbread Pancakes

2009-12-07T22:03:00.000-08:00

Seasonal spices like nutmeg, ginger and cinnamon warm up the coldest of winter mornings. Evoking a nostalgia of winters that have come to pass; A wonderful scent of Christmas time fills the home as these little hot cakes turn golden brown.

I patiently awaited December to make these, but had been plotting how I would create them since mid-November. Not a day too soon, I chose "French Toast Friday," a looser term used to describe a ritualistic breakfast spent enjoying wholesome, seasonally themed breakfast food.

There are different "varietals" of the pancake. I prefer the texture of mine somewhere between a "Swedish Pancake," and the traditional fluffy, thick "North American" pancake. It's that middle ground that affords a thinner pancake with a moist, tender texture.

3 rules to these pancakes:
1.Do enjoy them warm 2. Don't use high fructose fake syrup on them. 3. Go ahead and feel like you're splurging,though I assure you these are very nutritious.
Gingerbread Pancakes Recipe:

Ingredients1 cup whole wheat pastry flour1 teaspoon baking powder1/2 teaspoon baking soda3-4 egg whites (a matter of preference on how thin you'd like them)7 tablespoons soy milk3 tablespoons molasses2 tablespoons unsweetened applesauce4 teaspoons brown sugar2-3 tablespoons chopped pecans for toppingSPICES1 1/4 teaspoons ginger1 teaspoon cinnamon1/4 teaspoon allspice1/4 teaspoon ground cloves1/4 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
Directions:
1.Whisk together flours, salt, spices, sugar and baking powder in a medium sized bowl.
2. In a small bowl, beat egg whites until slightly foamy. In a separate bowl, whisk together soy milk, egg, molasses and applesauce.
3.Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and whisk until just combined. Careful not to over beat the batter, it’ll produce tough pancakes. Let the batter sit for 10 minutes while you heat the skillet. Over low-medium heat melt a tablespoon of butter or vegetable oil . Once skillet is hot, spoon a heaping 2 tablespoons of batter per pancake into the skillet. When pancake starts to bubble slightly, carefully flip over. Once browned and cooked through place pancakes on a oven proof plate and place in the oven set at 200 degrees F to keep warm while the rest of the pancakes are cooked.

Nutrition bits:
Ginger is long known for it's anti-inflammatory benefits and soothing effects in the digestive system. A wealth of further information on the health benefits of Ginger can be found here: Ginger Benefits. Nutritional Info

Servings Per Recipe: 2
Amount Per Serving
Calories: 287.2

Total Fat: 2.2 g
Cholesterol: 0.0 mg
Sodium: 355.1 mg
Total Carbs: 53.2 g
Dietary Fiber: 9.4 g
Protein: 15.4 g

Wild Chanterelle salad with Baked Beets

2009-11-28T14:10:00.000-08:00

This has been a season of discovery and delicious experiences. Among some of the new foods I've tried are beets and Chanterelle mushrooms.

I can't believe it took me so long to try beets, properly prepared, not the jelly-textured kind from cans. And I'm so glad I did, I plan on growing my own next year. I've tried the beets prepared with the boiling method and baking method, and the baking method offers a more tender, sweeter flavor.

Beets are buttery sweet, low calorie and high in folate that aids in healthy tissue development, making them a great choice for expecting Mom's.

As for the Chanterelles, I thought I had missed my opportunity to try these after passing them up several times at the farmer's market. However, I was delighted to find some local wild ones at Whole Foods.

Chanterelle mushrooms are incredibly healthy, nearly calorie free and full of immunity boosting properties, some much needed vitamin D this time of the year, and have a fragrant sweet taste.

I looked at a couple of different recipes for preparing chanterelles, and it's often prepared with a bacon or ham. So I settled on using Canadian bacon, which is low calorie, low-fat and high in protein.

Enjoy this healthy, seasonal dish!

Wild Chanterelle salad with Baked Beets

Ingredients

1-2 large chanterelle mushroom, chopped

1/4 red onion, sliced

2 pieces reduced fat canadian bacon, diced

1/4 cup fresh spinach, or other salad

1 tsp fresh thyme, optional

Sea salt, to taste

Fresh ground pepper, to taste

1 large beet

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400F, wash beets and slice the ends of, poke the beet with a fork, wrap in foil and bake on a baking sheet for 1 hour, after roasted.

2. About 45 minutes into the beet roasting, slice all vegetables and bacon as needed. Over medium-high heat, cook the Canadian bacon for about 3 minutes, then add the onions and mushrooms and saute for 3-5 minutes, sprinkle with thyme, salt and pepper, and serve on a bed of spinach.

3. Remove the beets from oven, peel, slice and serve warm with a little salt if desired.

Pumpkin French Toast

2009-11-24T19:47:00.000-08:00

I often get teased that I will turn orange with my affinity for pumpkins, butternut squash and sweet potatoes. After eating sweet potatoes nearly every day of the year, I have yet to change colors.

Pumpkin is a superfood, it's seasonal, sweet and can be enjoyed with just about anything...At least I think so.

A reader actually mentioned pumpkin pie french toast to me, and I was waiting for just the right occasion to attempt it.

Knowing if I put the pumpkin French toast off any further, it may be too late. For after Thanksgiving, the pumpkin fades behind scads of gingerbreads, eggnogs, and peppermint flavored delights.

I decided on French toast Friday, something Jesse and I do as much as we have morning to spare, and it's not always Friday, and it's not always French toast. But French toast Friday is catchy, and fun. So I call it that.

This recipe was a first, and it turned out perfect. I used a high fiber whole wheat bread, but I do advise to purchase a whole grain loaf of a rustic bread from the bakery and let it sit out for a day before.

Pumpkin French Toast

Ingredients: Makes about 4 servings

1/4 cup plain canned pumpkin

1 1/2 tsp fresh ground nutmeg

1 1/2 tsp ground cloves

1 1/2 tsp ground ginger

1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

3 organic cage free egg whites, lightly beaten

4 oz. soy milk (or any kind of milk)

3 tsp stevia

8 slices of bread

Directions:

1. Preheat griddle to 350 or cook on medium high heat

2. Mix all ingredients aside from the bread

3. Dip the bread and saturate with the French toast mixture

4. Cook on lightly oiled griddle or pan, about 4 minutes per side, or until golden on each side.

Gluten Free Pumpkin Pie

2009-11-24T15:17:00.001-08:00

I'm on pie duty this Thanksgiving, and was looking to create something healthier than the typical buttery crust, when I thought of my raw walnut-date crust.

Actually, my friend who's a culinary student/natural chef and I hijacked the Thanskgiving feast, much to my Mother's relief and we will be putting together the staples. I will be sure to share how it turned out.

But I in particular, took on the duties of the sweets, something I don't find as much of a duty, but more of a wonderful excuse to spend hours immersed in the kitchen, experimenting.

Anyways, on to the pie. This pie is a very simple, gluten free recipe, and could easily be converted to vegan with a simple substitution of eggs.

For the crust, I used a date paste purchases at a Middle Eastern market, but regular pitted dates would work great too. I also used walnuts, but pecans could be substituted if preferred.
The pie is a variation of the "Crustless baby pies" I made earlier. I added in a few extra spices to be true to the Pumpkin Pie flavors.

These can be prepared in ramekins, as I did, or in a 9" pie pan, just be sure to increase the baking time to roughly 50-60 minutes. I thought the ramekins were perfect, knowing that most the family will indulge in the regular pies, and to create a perfectly portion controlled treat.

Date Walnut Pie Crust:
1 cup pitted dates
2 cup walnuts or pecans
1 tsp cinnamon (optional)
1/4 tsp sea salt (optional)
Directions:
1. In a food processor or vitamix, blend the dates, cinnamon, salt and walnuts on high speed. The "crust" will be a gooey consistency. If it turns out to sticky, feel free to add a little more nuts.
2. Press into ramekins (4-6oz.) or a 9" pie pan, and prepare the pie filling.

Pumpkin Pie filling:
Ingredients:
2 eggs (go for organic cage-free)
1 can of pumpkin (not the pumpkin pie kind, look for organic)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp fresh grated nutmeg (use a microplane to grind, it's very easy!)
1/4 tsp allspice
1/2 cup molasses

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350F, whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then combine the pumpkin with the eggs, add the spices and molasses and mix together well.
2. Scoop the mixture into ramekins or pie pan with date walnut crust lining and bake for 20-30 minutes, 50-60 minutes if using a larger pan.
3. Cool in the fridge for an hour or longer, just as you would with a pumpkin pie.
4. After the long awaited cooling, savor these!

The date walnut is a festive combination with the pumpkin, and delicious. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Stuffed Cabbage

2009-11-18T09:14:00.000-08:00

Suffed cabbage, I don't know what sparked a craving for it and honestly can't recall ever trying it.
Coincidentally, I came across a recipe for it as I was thumbing through the latest issue of "Clean Eating" magazine.

In recreating the recipe, I began with recomposing the recipe steps, to make things more efficient.

The first step called for dousing a head of cabbage with a large pot of boiling water, to ease the separation of the leaves without breakage.

However, after three "dousing" attempts to loosen the leaves with boiling water, I resorted to filling a large stockpot with a shallow bath of water and lightly steaming the cabbage.

My method was much more successful. The leaves pealed with ease, no breakage, perfect for the stuffing of the spiced ground turkey I was cooking on the stove top.

For the filling, I began by sauteeing the onions and garlic in a large nonstick pan. When the onions begin to turn a golden hue, I added the ground turkey to cook. As the turkey cooked; I popped a package of Trader Joe's frozen brown rice into the microwave to be mixed with the filling, of course any cooked brown rice will work.

Once the turkey finished, I added it to a large bowl of brown rice, oats (my substitution for bread), and spices. The mix turned out much like a meatloaf mixture.

Next, I ladled the turkey mixture onto the softly steamed cabbage leaves, and wrapped up, similar to how you'd wrap a burrito, fastened with toothpicks, and set in a casserole dish side by side.

Finally, I topped stuffed cabbages with a blanket of sauce and baked.

They were everything I imagined a soft pillow of cabbage filled with spiced meat to be. Next time, I will prepare more sauce, however.
Stuffed Cabbage Recipe: Prep time: 20 minutes, cook time: 45, total: just over an hour, for 5 servings.
1 1/4 pound lean ground turkey
1 cup brown rice, cooked
1 medium head of cabbage
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
3 ripe roma tomatoes, seeded, cored and diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp sea salt
1/2 cup oats (original recipe called for bread crumbs)
2 large egg whites
Toothpicks, for securing the wraps
For the sauce:
Olive oil or cooking spray
6 oz. can of unsalted tomato paste
1/2 medium yellow onion, diced
4 oz. can of no salt added sliced mushrooms (optionally diced or you can use as is)
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tbsp fresh thyme, minced (dried works in a pinch, literally)
Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper, to taste
Directions: I agree, these seem lengthy, but they are for ease of preparation, to make the cooking process faster. This is a fairly quick meal, and I've included everything I wish the original recipe told me.
1. Preheat the oven to 375, have all ingredients out and ready to be prepped, this is called "Mise en place," meaning "putting in place." To do this, dice the tomato and onion, mix measured spice for sauce in a small cup, and add cooked brown rice, spices, oats and egg whites, and meat spices to a large bowl.
2. Fill a large stock pot with 3" water and lightly steaming cabbage head over medium-high heat for 5 minutes. Then, separate 10 leaves and set aside.
3.Once the leaves are separated, saute onions and garlic for about 5 minutes, add turkey and cook until turkey is done, about 10 minutes. Remove pan from heat and set aside.
4. Begin preparing the sauce, by sauteeing the onion in a medium sauce pan, add all other ingredients and allow to cook for about 5 minutes on medium heat as you then mix the cooled, cooked meat that was set aside with the bowl of egg whites, oats, rice and spices.
5. Remove sauce from heat; On a large surface, lay out cabbage leaves,ladle the meat mixture onto each leaf, then wrap (much like a burrito) and secure with toothpicks. Then, in a medium casserole dish, pour 1 tbsp sauce on the bottom, set the stuffed cabbages in, and pour remaining sauce on top. Cover the casserole dish with foil or lid and bake for 45 minutes.

Nutritional Info
Servings Per Recipe: 5
Amount Per Serving
Calories: 251.1
Total Fat: 8.9 g
Cholesterol: 80.0 mg
Sodium: 121.9 mg
Total Carbs: 17.7 g
Dietary Fiber: 3.1 g
Protein: 26.8 g

Pumpin Pancakes

2009-11-15T09:42:00.000-08:00

Craving all things pumpkin, I wanted to celebrate Friday with something spicy and warm and decided on some pancakes. I set off to compose the perfectly spiced cakes, ones that really tasted like pumpkin pie.

After experimenting with other pumpkin treats this month, I was confident I had the pumpkin spiced idea down.
The key decidedly is in the amount of spice. Too little hides the intentions. Too much is inedible. I managed to scale the spices to be just the right amount.

[Revision]
I have a sense of guilty pleasure, feeling almost as if I hoarded this recipe through the weekend, holding out until Sunday to share it. As I prepared these pancakes this morning, a second time enjoying them this weekend, I felt a sense of urgency to share this recipe with you. They're actually hot on the griddle, slowly cooking right now..Not to worry though, as I've got one eye on them, and after trial and error, know that they prefer a slower process.

Set aside your brunch plans, and stay inside with these seasonal (though I'd eat them any old time) pancakes!
Whole wheat Pumpkin Oat Pancakes
Ingredients:

1 cup oats
1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour (can be found easily, in the bulk food section of Fred Meyers)
2 Tbsp Baking splenda or preferred sweetener
1 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon fresh grated nutmeg 1/2 tsp of ground ginger
1/2 of ground cloves
1 cup Soy milk (or regular will do)
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
2 egg whites, whisked
2 Tablespoons applesauce, unsweetened
Directions:
Whisk together flours, salt, spices, sugar and baking powder in a medium sized bowl. Beat egg whites until slightly foamy. In a separate bowl, whisk together soy milk, egg, pumpkin and applesauce. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and whisk until just combined. Don’t worry if you have a few lumps. You don’t want to over beat the batter, it’ll produce tough pancakes. Let the batter sit for 10 minutes while you heat the skillet. Over low-medium heat melt a tablespoon of butter or vegetable oil . Once skillet is hot, spoon a heaping 2 tablespoons of batter per pancake into the skillet. When pancake starts to bubble slightly, carefully flip over. Once browned and cooked through place pancakes on a oven proof plate and place in the oven set at 200 degrees F to keep warm while the rest of the pancakes are cooked.
Nutritional Info
Servings Per Recipe: 2
Amount Per Serving
Calories: 396.8
Total Fat: 6.2 g
Cholesterol: 0.0 mg
Sodium: 896.1 mg
Total Carbs: 70.6 g
Dietary Fiber: 12.0 g
Protein: 17.9 g

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies

2009-11-11T16:41:00.000-08:00

This were the product of a rainy, rainy November day. The kitchen beckoned me to spend some quality time with sugar, spice and everything nice, and in my quest for a workable, seasonal recipe...I came across these Pumpkin Whoopie Pies on Saveur's site, that featured the wonderful food blogger Kelly Senyei, of "Just a Taste."

At first glance of the original recipe, It is decidedly not "healthy." I simply made some substitutions, and cut hundreds of calories from this recipe. It's so easy to do, a nutritional comparison of before and after is included below.

Part of healthy eating is thoroughly enjoying the process of cooking and baking, really getting to know your food. I often pour through recipes of all variety, rather than ones from "healthy cookbooks," and then adapt to my liking. I find that many "healthy cooking" recipes are bland, lacking spices, adventure and taking risks. Which is what I love about cooking and baking. Trying new things. This past rainy Saturday was the perfect occasion to take a chance and modify a recipe.

These were spicy, chewy, fragrant and generously portioned. I do recommend only eating half of the pie, if you can help yourself, they really are so dang good that it's hard to!

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies, adapted From "Just a Taste"

3 cups whole wheat pastry flour (instead of all purpose white) 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 2 tablespoons cinnamon 1 tablespoon ground ginger 1 tablespoon ground cloves 2 cups packed light brown sugar 1 cup unsweetened applesauce (instead of vegetable oil, this slashed lots of calories) 3 cups canned pumpkin, chilled 2 large eggs 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Directions:

Makes 24 cakes, enough for 12 whoopie pies.
1. Preheat oven to 350° and line two baking sheets with parchment paper or a Silpat. 2. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves together, then set aside. In a separate bowl, whisk the brown sugar and oil together until combined. Add the canned pumpkin puree and whisk to combine thoroughly. Add the eggs and vanilla and whisk until combined. Sprinkle portions of the flour mixture intermittently into the pumpkin mixture, whisking in each part until well combined.

The lovely cake batter
3.Use an ice cream scoop to drop portions of the batter onto each of the prepared baking sheets, about one inch apart. 4.Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until the cakes are just starting to crack on top and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove from the oven and let the cakes cool completely while you make the filling. Nutritional info for one cake, makes 24 (enough for 12 pies): Calories: 140 (230 before) Fiber: 4grams (1gr before) Carbohydrates: 32 grams (34 before)
Filling:
8 oz. Fat free cream cheese (in place of regular)
1/4 Cup smart balance light butter (In place of regular, unsalted)
1 tsp vanilla
2 Cups confectioners sugar, sifted
Directions:
1.Prepare the filling by beating together the cream cheese, butter and vanilla. Gradually add the sifted powder sugar to the cream cheese mixture, beating to combine.

2. Spread icing onto cooled pumpkin cakes, top with another cake.
Nutrients, per 1 tbsp icing: Calories: 35 (75 before)

By making a few changes, I slimmed down the calories, sugar, fats in these pies, without sacrificing results. One whoopie pie before contained 530 calories, and just 315 calories after. That's 215 calories spared!

How about you guys, do you modify regular recipes often? Any tips or tricks you'd like to share?

Thanks for following, enjoy your holidays.

Crustless baby pumpkin pies

2009-11-11T15:33:00.000-08:00

Can I call it a pie when there's no crust? I do suppose a crumbled, pressed pecan crust would work rather well for these.

In my case, I made these on a whim, after a night of carving pumpkins with Jesse on the cusp of November. I've been auditioning recipes for Thanksgiving for a couple of months now. Only the best will make it to the feast. Until then, I'm enjoying various traditional foods prematurely, all in the spirit of "taste testing," of course.

These little pies are so deliciously simple, I wonder why the extra ingredients often used in this famous pies' recipe are called for.

While I didn't have any whipped cream to top these with, I do approve of a dollop. Look for Soy whipped cream, making increasing appearances in markets.

Crustless Pumpkin Pie, Serves 4 (Fills four ramekins, or 4 oz. custard dishes)

Ingredients:

2 eggs (go for organic cage-free)

1 can of pumpkin (not the pumpkin pie kind, look for organic)

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp fresh grated nutmeg (use a microplane to grind, it's very easy!)

1/4 tsp allspice

1/2 cup molasses

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350F, whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then combine the pumpkin with the eggs, add the spices and molasses and mix together well.

2. Scoop the mixture into ramekins and bake for 20-30 minutes.

3. Cool in the fridge for an hour or longer, just as you would with a pumpkin pie.

4. After the long awaited cooling, savor these!

Molten lava cake

2009-11-04T07:48:00.000-08:00

The photo really doesn't do this little bite of heaven justice. I love chocolate, and sometimes go into "chocolate crazed" weeks, where I consume it nearly daily...In moderation, of course.

Whilst consuming copious amounts of chocolate during a tour of my favorite local, organic fair trade chocolate company, Theo, I received affirmation that cocoa is considered a health food.

Dark chocolate, that is 70% cacao content or above is considered a health food. It has a rich content of flavonoids, antioxidants, protecting against free radicals and contains healthy fats that improve cholesterol. Chocolate stimulates endorphin production, acting as a natural antidepressant..

Overall, I don't think much convincing is needed to indulge in this molten lava chocolate cake. It's sweet, and the perfect portion when baked in single serving ramekins.

Molten Lava Cake Recipe: Serves 3-4, depending on ramekin size

Ingredients:
1/4 C plus 1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder (I used dark chocolate cocoa powder)
1/3 cup baking stevia, or organic sugar
6 tbsp apple sauce
2 eggs, one whole and one white only
1/2 C whole wheat flour
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1tsp cinnamon (optional)
1/8 tsp fine sea salt (optional)
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 400F and lightly rub with smart balance light butter or cooking spray, four 4-oz ramekins or custard cups.
2. In a medium bowl, combine cocoa, cinnamon, salt and sugar, then whisk in applesauce.
3. In a small bowl, lightly whisk egg and egg white and add to cocoa mixture, whisking until smooth.
4. Stir in flour and vanilla until flour is combined completely-avoid over-mixing. Divide mixture evenly in custard cups, place on a baking sheet and bake for 9-10 minutes. Invert cups onto serving plate and let stand few minutes before removing cups. Enjoy warm.

This Recipe is an adaptation from the September/October 09' Clean Eating magazine.

Nutritional information:

Nutritional Info
Servings Per Recipe: 4
Amount Per Serving
Calories: 178.9
Total Fat: 1.8 g
Cholesterol: 46.8 mg
Sodium: 79.6 mg
Total Carbs: 36.2 g
Dietary Fiber: 3.2 g
Protein: 6.1 g

Butternut squash spelt pancakes

2009-11-01T17:04:00.000-08:00

November has commenced, and crates of various autumn squash have replaced the tropical fruits of summer time at the local farmers market. Butternut squash, along with pumpkin is technically a fruit, because of its' seeds.

I'm a big fan of squash, and try to use them as many ways possible. The versatility of butternut squash makes it easy to incorporate at any meal.

These pancakes were originally intended to be pumpkin pancakes.
During my quest for recipes, it occurred to me to substitute the much sweeter, nuttier butternut squash in place of pumpkin.

I typically use whole wheat pastry flour when baking/creating. However, I also purchase foreign ingredients on a whim and find a use for it. This time, I tried Spelt flour. Spelt offers a broader spectrum of nutrients than industrialized, inbred wheat flours. It also seems to cause less sensitivity for those with wheat intolerance. Find out more about the benefits of spelt flour here.

These hearty, spelt wheat pancakes are nutty, sweet and full of fiber, vitamin A and the tangerine hue is what makes it a heart healthy food. Nourish your heart and family with these tasty pancakes.

Butternut Squash Pancakes Recipe: Serves 4, two cakes' per serving
Ingredients:
Spelt flour 1.5 cup (I got mine from the bulk section at Fred Meyers)
Cinnamon, ground, 2 tsp
Stevia, 3 packets (or 2tbsp brown sugar)
Ginger, ground, 2 tsp (I grated fresh ginger)
Applesauce, sweetened, 1 tbsp (this is a sub for oil)
Baking Powder, 2 tsp
Baking Soda, 2 tsp
Butternut Squash Puree (homemade, or canned), 0.75 cup (if batter is too thick, add a little more)
Organic Soy Milk, 1.5 cup
Directions:
1. Preheat a griddle to 350F
2. Mix all dry ingredients, except for stevia in a large bowl, mix applesauce, stevia, squash puree and soy milk in a separate bowl.
3. Create a well in the dry ingredients, stir in the wet ingredients.
4. Ladle pancake batter onto griddle, when bubbles appear on top of pancakes, they are ready to be flipped. (Feel free to use your own discretion here, I'm hoping you've had the joy of making pancakes).
5. Enjoy!

After making these, I decided some crushed pecans or walnuts with a light drizzle of pure maple syrup would have been great! Please let me know how they turn out!

Persimmons and Pomegranates

2009-10-22T22:16:00.000-07:00

Browsing the local fruit stand last week, I noticed these beautifully orange-hued fruits, I had to take them home with me.

Persimmons are versatile and make various appearances in Italian inspired dishes, ranging from baked sweets to savory salads.

After scouring recipes on how to try these fruits, I decided to first try them in their purest form.

I simply sliced the stem, and peeled them. They paired very well with fresh pomegranates, garden fresh mint and vanilla honey, all farmers market finds.

Enjoy some Persimmons before they disappear with the season!

Fresh Persimmons and Pomegranate fruit salad:

Serves 4

4 persimmons, peeled, seeded and cut into wedges

1/4 cup pomegranate seeds

1 lemon, juiced

2 tbsp honey

1 tbsp chopped fresh mint

Mix and enjoy!

French toast sticks

2009-10-06T07:55:00.000-07:00

Breakfast, a beloved meal; likely because it usually involves something salty, something sweet, hot coffee and carbs. Sounds too good to be fitness friendly, almost.

With a few simple ingredients, a nutritious, satiating, delightful morning is made. On the menu today,

French toast sticks, turkey bacon and Greek yogurt infused with apple-cranberry butter. The eggs used in the French toast were a gift from a friend who has a farm nearby, the bread used: Ezekiel 4:9 sprouted raisin bread, nonfat Greek yogurt from Trader Joe's, along with their seasonal Cranberry-Apple butter that's out.

To make the French toast sticks: Serves 2
Ingredients:
2 slices Ezekiel 4:9 raisin bread
3 egg whites
2 tbsp low fat vanilla soy milk
2 packets stevia, or 2 tsp agave nectar
1 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp lemon zest-Not essential, but makes the French toast a million times better!
Directions:
1. Using kitchen scissors, cut bread lengthwise into strips, set aside. I left my bread out overnight to dry out, this prevents the bread from absorbing too much of the egg mixture and becoming soggy.
2. Heat 1/2 tbsp smart balance light butter in a nonstick pan on medium high. Mix all ingredients and saturate pieces of bread with the egg mixture.
3. Add egg soaked bread to non stick pan.
4. While the French toast sticks are cooking, in a separate pan cook the turkey bacon to allow it to finish at the same time as the toast.

To create the Infused Greek Yogurt: Serves 2
I choose to use Greek Yogurt to dip the toast in, adding extra protein, probiotics and cutting amount of sugar that is in maple syrup.
Ingredients:
1 cup nonfat greek yogurt
2 tbsp cranberry-apple butter
Directions:
1.Mix yogurt with cran-apple butter and divvy up!

Nutrition: Serving includes 2 pieces turkey bacon, 1/2 cup greek yogurt and one piece of french toast.
Calories: 288 Total Fat: 5 grams Carbohydrates: 27 grams Fiber: 5 grams Protein: 30 grams

Moroccan Feast

2009-10-03T21:39:00.000-07:00

My farmers market companion and I

Today was a perfect October day,complete with a trip to the Farmer's market, heart warming coffee, sufficient to inspire, time well spent with my mother in law &; friend, and a wonderful session in the kitchen.The creation was a twist on a Moroccan Tagine. The ingredients included Farm fresh Honeycrisp apples (my favorite variety of apple), grass fed buffalo, local honey from a farmers market stand my dear friend Cherrisse works at, and raisins.

A Tagine is a type of cookware, and type of food that's cooked in it.

They are the original "pressure cookers." Food cooked in a tagine is very similar to slow cooking, allowing the ingredients to simmer in their own juices, becoming tender with time.

You don't need a Tagine to create traditional "Tagine" foods, a large saucepan with a lid or stockpot will work.

I adapted this recipe from The Food of Morocco: A Journey for Food Lovers (Food Of Series).
The original recipe calls for beef, I substituted buffalo, and reduced the amount of fat used in the cooking. Buffalo is much leaner than beef, lower in calories, fat and cholesterol and higher in nutrients, such as Vitamin B12, and Iron. Learn more about the many benefits of buffalo here. I served the dish with Cous Cous, a bead sized pasta and Moroccan staple. I used Trader Joe's whole wheat cous cous, it's high in fiber and protein and counts as a complex carb.
I can't think of a better way to indulge in the fall harvest of apples, honey and desire for something warm.

Voila!

Recipe for Buffalo Tagine
Ingredients: Serves 6
2 1/2 lbs Buffalo stew meat
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp Smart Balance Light butter
1 brown onion, sliced
1/8 teaspoon saffron threads
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
4 cilantro sprigs, tied in a bunch
1 cup raisins
3 tablespoons honey
3 tart apples, such as honeycrisp or granny smith
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, extra
1 tablespoon sesame seeds (optional)
Directions:
1. Heat 1/2 tbsp olive oil over medium high heat, brown the buffalo and set aside
2. Reduce heat to medium, adding the sliced onions to pan, add oil if needed and cook gently for about 5 minutes, until onions are soft. Then sprinkle the mixture of ginger, cinnamon, and saffron and cook for about a minute.
3. Add 1 1/2 cups water, 1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt, a generous grind of black pepper, stir well and return buffalo to the pan, along with the cilantro sprigs.
4. Cover and simmer for 1 1/2 hours- you can reduce cook time if in a hurry, the longer time is simply to tenderize the meat and is recommended for best results.
5. After 1 1/2 hours of simmering, add the raisins and 1 tablespoon of honey, cover and simmer for another 30 minutes (this time can also be reduced if needed).
6. Meanwhile, wash and core the apples, leave the skin on and slice into wedges. Head 1 tbsp smart balance light butter in a separate pan and add the apples. Cook for about 10 minutes, turning the apples. Add the remaining honey, dust with the extra cinnamon and cook for about 5 minutes until apples are soft.
7. Serve meat and top with the apples.
For the cous cous, serves 6

1. When the buffalo is almost finished, boil 1 1/2 cups water
2. Once water is boiling, remove from heat and add 1 1/2 cups cous cous, place lid on immediately and allow cous cous to simmer for 5 minutes, it's important to keep the lid on for 5 minutes, to not ruin the cous cous.
3. Enjoy!

Spaghetti Squash with light bolognese sauce

2009-09-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

Squash is a fall favorite, easy to prepare and nutritious. The spaghetti squash gets its' name from the flesh that's strikingly similar in texture and appearance to pasta noodles. Spaghetti squash can be substituted for pasta, cutting almost 200 calories and 30 grams of carbohydrates for your meal.

Comparison of Spaghetti noodles versus Spaghetti squash:

1 cup cooked spaghetti noodles 1 cup cooked spaghetti squash

Calories: 200 Calories: 40

Carbohydrates: 40 g Carbohydrates: 10 g

Fiber: 2 g Fiber: 2 g

Comparing the "facts" (nutritional facts) is a practice that I frequently use when making food choices. Clearly the case for squash over pasta is made.

Try this beauty yourself for dinner, you won't be disappointed!

Spaghetti Squash with light bolognese sauce

Ingredients:

1 Spaghetti squash, about a 4lb squash, one the size of a football

Directions:

1.Preheat oven to 350F

2.Slice squash in half, lengthwise and place face down in a roasting pan or dish

3.Bake for 1 hour, scoop spaghetti flesh out and serve with sauce.

For the sauce:

Light Bolognese Sauce, makes about 8 cups-Either 1/2 recipe or freeze for later.
1 medium celery stalk
2 medium carrots diced
1 medium yellow or white onion, diced
1 lb lean ground turkey, Use 1 cup crushed walnuts for a Vegan version
1/2 cup skim milk, omit for vegan version
1 28 ounce can of no salt added crushed tomatoes
1 6 ounce can of tomato paste
1 tsp oregano
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 tbsp fresh basil, minced
Sea salt and ground pepper
Nutritional info: Calories per 1/3 cup: 100 Fiber: 2g carbs: 9g protein: 9g
Directions:
1. Chop all vegetables, garlic, herbs and heat 2 tsp olive oil in large stockpot on medium heat.
2. Add garlic, onions, carrots, celery to oil and saute for 10 minutes. Then add the ground turkey and cook turkey.
3. Once turkey is cooked add tomatoes, basil, oregano, and season with salt and pepper, simmer on medium heat for 10 minutes. If adding crushed walnuts, add with the canned tomatoes.
4. Serve the sauce with the gnocchi and enjoy!

Healthy Blueberry oat scones

2009-09-23T16:42:00.000-07:00

Scones and coffee, the sum greater than their parts. The mild sweetness of the scone illuminated by the contrasted sharpness of the coffee. There are some things are destined for one another, I couldn't imagine a scone without a fresh cup of French press to wash it down.

The finale of summer parted me with an abundance plump fresh blueberries. Add a few simple, wholesome ingredients, bake and enjoy!

Ingredients:

3/4 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/4 cup amaranth flour
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons baking stevia
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
3 tablespoons smart balance light buttery spread
1/4 cup and 2 tablespoons soy milk
1/2 cup fresh blueberries or frozen blueberries, thawed
1/4 cup pecans
1 tablespoon milk
Directions
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet. 2. Stir the oatmeal, flours, sugar, baking soda, and baking powder together in a mixing bowl. Use a pastry cutter or two forks and cut in the smart balance vegan butter with the flour mixture until crumbly and well blended. Stir the soy milk into the flour mixture until just combined. Lightly stir in the pecans and blueberries. Collect the dough into a ball and pat into a large circle about 1 inch high. Cut into 8 wedges, and place on prepared baking sheet. Brush tops with 2 tablespoons soy milk. 3. Bake in preheated oven until lightly browned, 20 to 25 minutes.
Nutritional Info:
Calories: 219.7
Total Fat: 9.9 g
Cholesterol: 0.0 mg
Sodium: 156.6 mg
Total Carbs: 36.5 g
Dietary Fiber: 6.4 g
Protein: 6.8 g

Whole wheat carrot raisin muffins

2009-09-15T14:47:00.001-07:00

A quest for creating a nutritious satiating muffin has all led me to here. I'm a big fan of carrot raisin anything. I think it stems from the Costco sized carrot cakes my brother would always have on his birthdays, the ones with the rows of frosted food colored carrots on top. As a child, there really aren't many birthdays to celebrate, comparatively with the rest of your life, and the ones that do take place leave an impression.

Carrots are a great source of beta carotene, next to sweet potatoes of course and raisins are full of antioxidants, fiber, potassium and other nutrients. These muffins are great for breakfast, a hiking snack (can you tell I'm from the Northwest?) or just about any other time, really.

Ingredients:
1 1/2 C whole wheat flour
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
6 packets stevia
3 tbsp baking stevia
4 tbsp honey
1 egg
1 egg white
3 tbsp applesauce, unsweetened
1 cup grated carrots
1/4 cup raisins

*All stevia can be substituted with any other sugar alternative, such as Agave nectar or honey.
Directions: Makes 9 muffins
1.Preheat oven to 350F Line muffin sheet with cupcake liners
2.Mix flour, stevias, honey, baking soda, spices and carrots, create a well in bowl
3. In a separate bowl, mix eggs and applesauce
4. Fold eggs and oil mixture into the carrot/flour mixture and fold in raisins.
5. Pour into muffin containers and bake for 20 minutes.

Nutritional info: Calories: 125 Total Fat: 1.2 g Total Carbs: 26.3 g Fiber:3g Protein: 3g
Enjoy two!

Simple soba noodle stir fry

2009-09-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

Stir fry's really are one of the easiest dinner options. They're healthy, fast and require minimal kitchen skills. I whipped together this soba stir fry because, I confess, I've had sorry soba noodles sitting in my cupboard for ages (okay probably months) that I bought for an untouched recipe. I finally determined to use them and found a new favorite complex carb and accompaniment for Asian nights. Soba noodles are traditionally Japanese and are made from a fiber rich buckwheat flour.

Soba Vegetable stir fry, serves 4
Ingredients:
1 package soba noodles, can be found in the asian section of grocery store
1 cup chopped broccoli
1 cup snow peas
2 chicken breasts, sliced into 2" pieces
1 carrot, sliced-I prefer matchstick slices
1/2 cup lime juice
1 1/2 tbsp low sodium soy sauce
2 tsp sriracha, use less or omit if you don't like spice
1/4 cup chopped green onion
1 garlic clove, chopped
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 tsp sesame oil

Directions:
1. Boil soba noodles according to directions on package
2. Mix sesame oil, soy sauce, cilantro, lime juice and sriracha.
3. In a large nonstick pan, heat 2 tsp olive or sesame oil and add green onions and garlic to saute for about 5 minutes. Add sliced chicken breast, cook and set aside. Then add remaining vegetables to cook, when veggies are nearly finished, add sauce, cooked chicken and noodles and stir.
Nutritional info: Calories: 230 Fat: 2g Carbs: 20g fiber: 4g Protein: 31g

Sweet potato gnocchi with bolognese sauce (vegan option)

2009-09-15T13:10:00.000-07:00

I picked a rather hot day to immerse myself in the kitchen, but the process and the results were well worth it. The recipe is my own take on one found in the September issue of Clean Eating Magazine. Creating your own hand rolled gnocchi will elicit a deeper appreciation for the delicate olive-sized potato dumplings, as it is a process that take about 1 hour. My friend informed me later that there is a shortcut, I will be so kind to offer this shortcut and likely shave likely 45 minutes from your prep time.
The bolognese sauce is a cinch and leaves plenty of leftovers to freeze and serve with some whole wheat pasta for a fast simple feast.
I recommend picking a cloudy day and setting aside a good hour or so for spending in the kitchen.

Sweet potato gnocchi serves 6
Ingredients:
2 medium sweet potatoes
1 russett potato
2 cups whole wheat flour
Nutritional info per serving of about 20 dumplings: Calories 210 Carb: 45g Fiber: 8g Protein:5g

Directions
1. Bake potatoes separately in microwave for 5-6 minutes each, peel potatoes and puree in food processor
2. In a bowl, mix flour into pureed potatoes, 1/4 cup at a time. The mixture will become very sticky.
3. Lightly flour a baking sheet or plates and here is where you have two options. Option 1 takes a lot longer: in flour dusted hands, roll potato flour mixture into marble sized balls and set onto baking sheet and press individually with a fork, be careful not to flatten OR option 2: with floured hands, roll potato mixture into 1" round "snakes" and using a pizza cutter, slice gnocchi into individual balls and indent with a fork.
4. To cook gnocchi: Boil water at medium-high and drop gnocchi in, 10-20 at a time. When gnocchi rises to the surface of the water remove with a slotted spoon.

Light Bolognese Sauce, makes about 8 cups
1 medium celery stalk
2 medium carrots diced
1 medium yellow or white onion, diced
1 lb lean ground turkey, Use 1 cup crushed walnuts for a Vegan version
1/2 cup skim milk, omit for vegan version
1 28 ounce can of no salt added crushed tomatoes
1 6 ounce can of tomato paste
1 tsp oregano
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 tbsp fresh basil, minced
Sea salt and ground pepper
Nutritional info: Calories per 1/3 cup: 100 Fiber: 2g carbs: 9g protein: 9g

Directions:
1. Chop all vegetables, garlic, herbs and heat 2 tsp olive oil in large stockpot on medium heat.
2. Add garlic, onions, carrots, celery to oil and saute for 10 minutes. Then add the ground turkey and cook turkey.
3. Once turkey is cooked add tomatoes, basil, oregano, and season with salt and pepper, simmer on medium heat for 10 minutes. If adding crushed walnuts, add with the canned tomatoes.
4. Serve the sauce with the gnocchi and enjoy!

Nutrition for one serving of gnocchi with light bolognese sauce: Cals: 310 Carbs: 54g Fiber:10g Protein: 14g

Oatmeal pumpkin muffin bites

2009-09-10T17:37:00.000-07:00

September is well on it's way to fall and I'm still slightly digging my heels into the dry soils of summer. After being spoiled in an unusually warm summer here in Seattle, I got to taste the life in the sun, and I became enchanted in a sun-drunken happiness. I spent days fantacizing a swift escape to California, forgoing the fall and inevitable rain.

However, with the first rainy September day, as I stepped into Starbucks, I was reminded of some of my fall delights, like pumpkin spiced baking binges and hot coffee-okay, I drink hot coffee year round, so what? I'm a true Seattlite-[ite] (stuck in an off shoot of Seattle currently).

I may be the only to notice that Pumpkin Spice made a premature debut in local cafes this year, but it also gave me the justification to bake something pumpkin spiced, even though Thanksgiving is a month away and we're still receiving a few last rays.

I created these as a healthy snack or breakfast on the go. Tell me what you think!

Ingredients: Makes 35 "bites"

1 cup canned pumpkin

1/3 cup apple sauce

1 cup organic brown sugar

1 1/2 C whole wheat pastry flour

3 cups oats

1 TBSP ground flax seed

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground nutmeg, I used fresh

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/2 tsp ground ginger

OR you can sub all spices with 2 tsp pumpkin pie spice

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 F

2. Mix first 3 ingredients, in a separate bowl, mix remaining ingredients.

3. Add pumpkin sugar mixture to the dry ingredients

4. Spoon drop 1" balls of dough onto parchment paper on a cookie sheet or a lightly oiled cookie sheet

5. Bake for 10-15 minutes and enjoy!

Nutrition:

Per 1 muffin bite

Calories: 70

Carbs: 19grams

Fiber: 2 grams

Protein: 2 grams

Adobo Cocoa spiced Flank steak

2009-08-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

I once believed that red meat was to be avoided and couldn't possibly be on a healthy menu. It is true that red meat is higher in fat and cholesterol content, but the kinds of fat found in organic grass fed meet is incredibly healthful.
Grassfed beef has a similar fat content to chicken, and is full of heart healthy, cancer fighting Omega 3 fatty acids, natural CLA, notorious for it's fat burning abilities, especially around the midsection and is lower in calories and fat content than other conventionally raised beef..
Learning more fully the benefits of iron-rich, healthy grassfed beef waranted an end to a needless prohibition of it from my kitchen.

This meal was inspired by "Gourmet" magazine, a Carne Asada recipe sans tortillas, whole wheat tortillas are a good choice if desired. I enjoyed being able to savor the steak, uninhibited by a tortilla. For the "Mexican Cole Slaw," I sped up the dinner considerably by purchasing cole slaw shredded cabbage and carrots. Served on the Cole Slaw, the steak was rich, spicy and just right. The entire meal took about 30 minutes.

Adobo cocoa spiced flank steak
Ingredients:
1lb Organic grass fed flank steak
2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
Salt
1 tbsp ancho chili powder
1 tbsp olive oil
Directions Pat dry steak and massage with salt Mix cocoa, cinnamon and chili powder Rub steak with spice mixture Brush steak with olive oil and cook over med-high heat or grill

Mexican cole slaw
1 bag cole slaw mix, about 4-5 cups
1/3 cup chopped cilantro 1/4 cup rice vinegar Lime juice 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1/4 teaspoon salt
Directions
Mix cilantro, 1tbsp olive oil, rice vinegar and lime juice, stir into cole slaw mix and top with sliced flank steak.

A healthy feast, satisfying a chocolate-and a steak craving, all at once!