Posts tagged Eggs
Cheater's Tortilla Españolaa

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?

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Birthday Pavlova

On my second birthday, my mother was about two months pregnant with my little sister. As she tells it, even being near food was unbearable, so she asked a friend of hers to make me a birthday cake. Her friend, who is Kiwi, made me a Pavlova...  and I was done with cake forever. There was to be no other cake. I was a stubborn child  (shocking, I know) and I've had a Pavlova every year since- if not on my birthday, within a month or so. My mom even managed to (awesomely) send one to the me via some friends when I was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in 2012. Our family takes tradition seriously.

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The sum of its parts

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!

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Udon Pantry Soup

Since I still haven't finished my undergraduate degree, I'm currently taking a two-week intensive stable isotope course. (25 and still working on a bachelor's anyone? Just me? Ok then!). Starting Monday I've been in class at least 8 hours a day, and since campus isn't all that close to home, I've been leaving in the morning carrying two meals in my purse, and returning 13 hours later with my brain completely fried. Last night, in a stress-induced fit of bad decision making, I bought three packs of sour punch straws at a gas station on my way home and ate all of them while avoiding my dishes. This morning my teeth hurt, which is perhaps unsurprising. I hate getting older. Am I going to have to actually start flossing now? Adulthood sucks.


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