I ate my first tortilla española in Spain on a foreign language exchange trip I really kind of hated. I was genuinely irritated about how minimally academic the whole thing was, a reaction which perfectly encapsulates the nerdy, well-meaning, privileged brat I was at seventeen. I saw Goya's dark room, ate perfect grilled sardines and learned the difference between tea and infusion by myself at a beautiful old cafe- and somehow, I resented feeling like I hadn't earned them. I mean really- would my doing more homework have made the trip any less of a gift from my parents?Read More
Hello world, I'm back! I'm feeling juiced. I've got a new job, I've got new chickens... I could learn my lesson and just give up like a sane person, but instead I'm going to keep running into a brick wall. Is that a real saying? What with this being, like, the eighth time I've attempted this particular project, I'm starting small with some easy white-girl tacos I probably could have made in my dorm kitchen.
But enough about that because LOOK AT THE CHICKEN BABIES!Read More
I was up at six this morning. No, it's not because I've suddenly become a morning person (note to universe: please make me a morning person?!). I'm just so out of whack that I slept most of Sunday and not at all last night. Six am was when I declared defeat. I know other people have control over their sleep cycles, but most of the time mine is a puppet master.
In the summer of 2010, while doing some late-night organizing for a backpacking trip in Yosemite, my friend Kimi made a frittata. It was the first one I'd ever seen made. As I recall, it had artichoke hearts and spinach and corn, and since all of the pans in Kimi's house were cast iron, she let it cook slowly on the stove instead of putting it in the oven. The next day we ate it cold from a ziploc bag, sitting at the trailhead, and I remember all five of us being vaguely surprised at just how good it was. "I think it's the corn", Kimi said.Read More
I like breakfast. I like eating pancakes at 5am during exams, and knowing everyone in my house's preferred bagel order. I even like going out to breakfast with my grandfather at 7:30am because, as he once told me, "decent people do not eat breakfast after 8." Most of all, I like it when it's Saturday, and there are too many people sleeping on your couches, and all it takes to make everybody happy is ten minutes spent cracking eggs and trying to see how many english muffins you can fit into your toaster oven.Read More