Greetings from London!
I am currently sitting in a tiny bustling coffee house filled with locals sharing communal tables. As I sit here, listening to ’60s music and enjoying a London fog, I can’t help but feel like I’m in someone else’s dream.
I’ve only been here for a few days, and I’m already totally smitten. When I get back next week, you’re all going to get an earful – or eyeful, rather – about everything I’ve been doing and eating. Until then, I’ve got a bangin’ pasta recipe for you guys, which also just happens to be perfect for the final weeks of the winter doldrums. Continue reading
Boston got hit with a big ol’ blizzard yesterday, leaving us all a little bit buried. And as I stare out of my bedroom window onto the adjacent roof tops all covered in a hefty helping of heavy snow, I can’t help but think about what it means to feel stuck.
I’m pretty sure there is no such thing as “stuck”. We make it up so we feel better about not being able to decide what to do with ourselves. When we’re surrounded by a feeling of heavy wetness that prevents us from even leaving the house, it’s easy to feel as if we have no choice but to stay put. We forget how we used to stomp around when we were kids, bundled up to our eyeballs in snow gear, having snowball fights and building igloos with any other kids that happened to be nearby.
We forget how to unstick ourselves.
When I was a little thing and hadn’t yet learned to make my own dinner, my mother had the impossible task of whipping something up that my picky palate would actually accept as edible.
Most of the time I just sucked it up and ate what was in front of me so that I would be allowed to have ice cream for dessert. Of the few dishes that I would eat without complaint, pasta and hot dogs were my all time favorites. It’s a good thing I didn’t cook for myself or else that would be all I ate.
So when my mom wanted to easily sneak some vegetables into me, she’d usually make soup (if a kid can’t see what they’re eating, they can’t complain, right?). And it worked – I vividly remember gobbling down bowlfuls of butternut squash or carrot soup with black pepper and globs of sour cream. Continue reading
I know. I know. Leili just put up a tomato sauce recipe and I’m doing something similar. As wacky as it sounds, sometimes we don’t always have time to smartly plan out our next recipes because we’re both busy gals. Also, not to point fingers, but Leili is a terrible texter. Seriously.
Maybe this public shaming will help her curb her response time. Shame. Continue reading
Necessity is the mother of invention.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been a staunch vegetarian. I’ve never really eaten much meat, so I naively thought that switching from eating a little meat to eating zero meat would be a cinch.
Well…I was wrong. (And I don’t admit that often. Just ask my boyfriend.)