For most of my life everyone in my family believed apple pie to be my dad’s favorite. Perhaps because its classic or maybe because he dutifully ate every slice that was put before him. The fact that he dutifully eats just about anything put before him somehow never registered with any of us.
Then sometime in my early twenties a bombshell rocked our household. It turns out my dad’s favorite pie is actually blueberry. Stunned is an understatement, we laughed of course, but were all left speechless. Really? We almost never had blueberry pie. Did it really take 20+ years for that revelation? It’s possible that we never really bothered to ask him, but we never suspected he was dissatisfied. Was he pining away for a blueberry pie with every bite of apple pie he took? What kind of person holds such a silly secret for so long?Read More
Its been an odd couple of days here, unseasonably cool, and rainy, and dare I say pleasant. Although most things remain in a constant flux, there’s at least one constant- I don’t know that I’ll ever come to enjoy the heat. So when the first of June brought a cool front with it, I instantly felt a little less surly. Of course, the moment I found myself sans sweat, I logically decided the best thing to do was to jump head first into a bowl of soup, and savor every bite.Read More
On the morning I brought myself to make these beauties, D had woken me early to say good-bye before being whisked away to a tropical beach to shoot a concert. Rough, right? Soon after that, the kid would rise and demand his usual yogurt and banana, and the contrast of that to palm trees and a swank hotel was just a bit too much to handle. To distract me from the jealousy that was no doubt eating away at me, I busied myself with a little project; a blueberry pancake project.
Sprouts. I know its a strange thing to start with. Unless you’re into gardening, or growing herbs in your windowsill, the word ‘sprouts’ isn’t exactly enticing. I can’t hear the word without reliving dozens of boring veggie sandwiches short on flavor and full of alfalfa sprouts. But little sprouts, full of promise are coming into their own. I read this article a few months ago, and no sooner did I make a mental note to investigate sprouting that it was buried in the bustle of everyday life. You might say it was overwhelmed.
You might say that about a lot of things lately. The past few weeks have been a tailspin of stress and tears and celebration and dozens of hours in the car. Settling back into life here I felt an overwhelming need to take care of myself, make some motions to recover from weeks of road food and little indulgences. Sprouts then seemed like a good start.
Two days ago I was taking a lazy Sunday to heart. After a quick jaunt out into the world, we came home with a napping toddler, perfect light in the apartment, upbeat tunes on the radio and I tell you, all I wanted to do was drape myself over the couch and mindlessly watch the picture shows on television. And I made a good go at it, even in the face of the harsh judgments I imagined coming from D’s office.Read More
I sense a budding romance between me and radishes. I don’t know why I’ve been so stand-offish with them all my life. I’d like to think I was dividing my attention amongst other foods, but I fear its more a case of neglect on my part. They were veggie spread staples growing up, but I never gave them a chance. But now I’m finding many reasons to like them, first off every ounce of them is adorable.Read More