August 21, 2011
And yes, I realize it’s been over a month since my last post… but what can I say? I’ve been frolicking. And traveling. And writing and reading and getting my hands dirty.
Unemployment, contrary to popular opinion, has been conducive to a whole lot of cavorting.
First I spent a few days on a farm where I befriended a few sheep, harvested my first (and second, and hundredth) beet, and did yoga outside next to a pen of squabbly turkeys. Then I went for a run along the Golden Gate Bridge and foraged for wild blackberries (and fennel, and Grecian strawberries, and Ponderosa lemons) in San Francisco. THEN I went to Nashville where I got to go honkey tonkin’, get harassed by a rather forward little Jersey cow, and eat my way through a bucket of crabs and a plate of fried green tomatoes (thankfully not all in one sitting). Finally I returned home to pillage a prolific plum tree on a quiet block of Park Slope, jump in the ocean… and spend hours reading about the nutritive value of organically- vs conventionally-grown tomatoes, sustainable farming methods, and farm-to-table/plate/school initiatives. Yep.
In between all of that, I also managed to make this salad:
Now *that’s* farm to table, baby.
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August 10, 2010
Confession: I tend to go through food phases… crushes, really. I’ll find something I love — like Thai curries, or pineapple fried rice, or this — and then make it (or some variation of it) over and over, eating it for two or three weeks straight, until finally my attentions are arrested by some previously unfamiliar ingredient or flavor combination… thus beginning a brand new love affair.
(Unfortunately for my neighbors, I do the same thing with music: I think I’ve listened to Band of Horses’ “No One’s Gonna Love You” about ten times already today. Sorry guys.)
Now I know some people are averse to eating the same thing more than once or twice in the same two to three-day period — sometimes to the extent that they won’t even eat leftovers — but if I’m being honest (and really, when am I not?), I don’t really understand those people. I mean, leftovers are great! Nevermind that living by myself and not having time to cook every night (or the money to eat out or order in all the time), I pretty much live on leftovers, making double or triple what I’ll eat at any given sitting so I have lunch or dinner for the next day or two.
Luckily for me, the ability to eat the same foods and not get bored (not even close) is also pretty convenient when one is trying to eat seasonally and to take advantage of crops for as long as they’re available.
Isn’t it great when life works out like that? I mean seriously, if I was one of those leftovers-phobic people, I probably wouldn’t have much of a social life.
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July 22, 2010
I know I know, I KNOW.
It has been far too long since my last post.
It’s just that summer is in full swing, which means that my weekends are now spent taking trips: bus rides home to go to the beach and laze around in the hammock and train rides to visit my brother to drink home-brewed beer on his roof and help him chickensit a gaggle of rowdy hens and take a leisurely stroll down what Dickens declared to be the most beautiful street in America. Add to that the fact that during the work-week when I am actually here in the city I am trying to take advantage of all of the free outdoor movies and live music in the parks, and finally going to physical therapy (all cooking and no running makes me a very cranky girl), and maybe sort of also looking at apartments and, well… you get the idea. It’s been a bit hectic.
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June 13, 2010
Living alone in a studio apartment is great, in lots of ways. I don’t need to worry about anyone finishing the last of my milk, I can rock out to Lady Gaga when I roll out of bed at 7am if I feel like it, the only dirty dishes in the sink are my own and nothing is ever further than six steps away.
But one thing that living alone in a tiny apartment is not conducive to is cooking for others… and cooking for others happens to be one of my very favorite things to do. So whenever the opportunity to do so arises, I take advantage of it… and if the space between opportunities becomes too long for my liking, I bide my time until I can’t take it anymore and end up awkwardly blurting out an invitation to cook for whichever hapless victim lucky friend happens to be closest by.
a lone quinoa burger
This is exactly what happened this past Saturday night. I was on the phone with a friend making plans, talking about some party or other, and before I knew what was happening the words “Why don’t you come over and I’ll cook for you?” were out of my mouth. After a slight pause in which we both registered a touch of surprise (hers at the non-sequitor, mine from some distant corner of my brain that was dimly beginning to realize it was most definitely not in the driver’s seat), she accepted.
It wasn’t until after I hung up the phone that I remembered this friend is a carnivore: a big meat-lover.
I mean that literally. This girl has gushed about a good piece of meat with such passion that it practically made me blush… on more than one occasion.
Now, I don’t call myself a vegetarian — I definitely enjoy meat, fish and seafood on occasion — but I very rarely buy and cook it. In fact, I would venture to say that roughly 85% of what I make for myself on a regular basis (and therefore know how to cook) ends up being vegetarian.
And I definitely don’t have meat just sitting around my refrigerator, lying in wait for an impromptu dinner invitation for its chance to shine at the center of the plate.
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