Nurturing my inner... Michelangelo

After four years in my condo, I finally finished painting my last room back in April. With the exception of a friend helping me with some of my living room, I've done the entire place by myself.  (Because I trust no one.)  It's a nice feeling when all the rooms are finally done.  A great sense of accomplishment and finality washes over you.  (Well, except for the fact that I now have a sudden urge to change my bedroom and kitchen colors.  Isn't it just that way?!)

This weekend was the Women of Faith conference in DC and my 10th year of attending!  Such an encouraging weekend.  I brought along a friend and got a chance to meet a few of her other friends who bought last minute tickets and decided to join us.  My friend mentioned that one of the girls had just moved into a new townhouse and needed to paint her basement this weekend so she could get a renter by the following month.  Seeing as I am a resident expert having put in many hours helping other people paint at least a dozen of their rooms for years before I had my own place, and also seeing as my place was finally done, I said, "Tell me where and when to show up!"  This I realize is somewhat insane as I just met this person and was operating on little sleep from the past two nights.  But I tend to volunteer first and think later.  I know there are worse faults to have.

Sunday rolled around and I headed over to her house around 1:30 pm after having stopped at Wegman's on the way.  If you don't have a Wegman's grocery store near you, I am deeply sorry because you are missing out.  It's like a giant tummy tempting wonderland that is half grab-and-go upscale minimart and half art gallery of raw grocery displays.  If you need it, they have it.  And likely in abundance.  I'd like to insert a special note that while I was shopping and tossing several things into my basket, I knew I was going over someone's house who 1.) wasn't currently married and 2.) moved in recently, so I knew there would be plenty of room in the fridge to store my stuff while we painted.  I was right.

My first duty of the day - ceiling touch up.  Oh Michelangelo, at least you had scaffolding on which to lay on and probably a steady influx of amazing Italian dinners from the local townsfolk for daily motivation.  As for me, it was a large glass of iced tea, a trusty step stool and a wicked determination to not get a crick in my neck from looking up.  My fine arts degree came in darn handy though as I touched up first the ceiling paint with the skillful hands of a master and then the wall paint.  With the utmost of care.  "My name is Karen and I'm a perfectionist."  (Hi Karen!)

All I can say is that I operate out of this concept: I will give the same amount of quality, time and attention to your project as I would if it was in my own home.  My dad taught me to do my best no matter what I was working on.  Mowing the lawn, painting a picture, organizing a closet.  If you saw the job I did painting in my condo, why yes, you'd hire me too!  Plus, I will work for food.  (I'm really not kidding.)

The friend of my friend came in the room and when she saw the work I had done, she was so happy.  Warmed my heart when she said she couldn't even see where the messed up spots had been.  (Aww, shucks!)  Because just a weekend earlier, she was so frustrated after removing the tape she had left on too long and it peeled some of the paint off.  It's just awful when you've put a lot of time into something and then the unexpected happens that takes a jab at your handiwork.  Interestingly enough, I had learned that though she was 50, she had never painted a room her life!  If it wasn't for our mutual friend, she never would have dreamed she'd be able to do it and taken the leap.  She wasn't even going to go to the conference because she knew all the work she had to do that weekend, but as God works in crazy ways, she got her priorities right, went to the conference, met me and ended up with an experienced painting helper.  (I mean, you just can't make this stuff up!)

After the touch up room, I was next put on edging duty in the bathroom.  Lucky for me, I love to edge when most people would rather roll.  Here is a before picture:

Walls were originally dark teal blue and they had
primed last weekend. Things always look so drab
when you start.

It didn't take too long before all the edging was done.  I told her she wasn't allowed to look (yes, I banned her from going into her own bathroom - aren't I bold) until I could get enough up on the walls for her to be wowed at her first glance.  When she came in to roll, oh, she was wowed alright.

Now for the after picture:

My other artwork

Why that is a pizza, you say as if I hadn't noticed.  Yes, it is a pizza.  A homemade one at that.  How did that get there?  In the middle of the painting story.  Well, that's what I was working toward the entire day.  See, I had bought everything to make a pizza and figured my new potential friend must own a pizza stone.  She did.  When we were finished with the three rooms, which included some nifty larger hole patching on my part thanks to a recent viewing of DIY videos, we wrapped it up around 9:30ish.  Painting isn't very thrilling, so I thought you'd enjoy seeing pizza more.  Though the room did turn out great.  I had planned earlier in the day to make us some dinner as a treat and figured it would be easy for the girls to just be served in all capacities that day.  In the past, I had made pizza only once or twice before, and with not so great results, but wasn't going to allow that to stop me from trying again.  The night before I had gone over to my homemade pizza making expert friend's house and she whipped one up on the spot for us.  I paid particular attention.  I took mental notes.  Oh, this time dough, you were not going to beat me!

Artichoke, Tomato and Pesto Pizza

Fresh dough from Wegman's (Used around 1/3ish)
Fresh mozzarella (cut in thin slices, but you can also use boccachini)
Pesto from olive bar
Mini artichokes in oil from olive bar (diced)
A can of cooked and peeled whole plum tomatoes (Use about 4-5 sliced thin and without liquid)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Stretch the dough out thin and get all right up to the edge of the stone.  Poke several times with a fork.  Put in the stove for 10-12 min until it's barely turning light brown.  Remove and put a thin layer of pesto as the sauce, top with artichokes, tomatoes and mozzarella.  Bake for 15-20 min until edges and cheese are slightly brown.  Slice into wedges or squares with a pizza wheel.  Don't burn your mouth!

The three of us, tired, sweaty and covered with paint, sat down for a glass of wine and a couple slices of some fantastic homemade pizza on her deck.  (Oh yes, it turned out fabulous!)  The weather was really nice at that time of night.  Well over an hour went by of dining, chatting, laughing and getting to know one another better until it was time to go home.  To think I would have missed all that if I hadn't just said, "Yes, I'll help."

I think I may have accidentally made a new friend today, because I certainly wasn't looking for it. She kept thanking me for helping her paint and I said, "Look, YOU did me the favor as I had nothing planed for today.  Instead, I was able to have the satisfaction of doing good work, and having a great meal with fun company to boot."  Not sure why she doesn't understand how I could think that, but I guess it's ideal for both parties when they are equally as grateful for the other.

Hand of the messy artist

Don't think too hard about it.  When opportunity arises, just say "Yes!"  Especially if you actually know what you're doing, but even when you don't.  You'll figure it out.  We all have a time when we are just starting, or just starting over, and we need a helping hand.  So we should always be ready to proactively offer the hands we've got.  In the end, you're not really saying "yes" to a project, you're saying "yes" to a person.

The reward for this friend of a friend wasn't really getting her rooms painted (although that was nice) or for me making pizza (although that too was nice) but it was in the connecting of strangers, the internal confirmation that you are not alone and the potential to have possibly found a new friend.  You really don't ever want to miss a chance to do that.

Nurturing my inner... preteen pedicure

I've done this before around the Fourth of July, but that was a busy time for me this year, so I missed out.  Seeing it's at the end of August and I needed a last hurrah for Summer (as it begins to pull away from me in a flurry of boyfriend breakup like emotions), I thought, "Hey, why not!"  (Note: "Hey why not!" seems to have become my battle cry as of late.)

Patriotic toes!

From toes that danced for a dozen years in my youth, to ones that help me run these days, it's nice to do something to pamper my little piggies!  (Especially the one who got no roast beef.  How sad is that!)   Who says they all have to be the same color either?  There is no pedicure paint scheme etiquette handbook!  Make up your own!  It's youthful, and seemingly delightfully rule-breaking when you're over the age of 14, to pick a simple colorscheme and paint every opposite one.  I thought it was even more fun to swap the alternating pattern with each set of five.  Shoot, you can paint every toe differently and create your own podiatral rainbow!  What's stopping you?

I enjoy doing things at times that make me feel young.  To hold on to that fun part of me that thought anything was possible.  Maybe that's silly, but my life tends to be too serious now that I'm all growed up.  Small and inexpensive indulgences often bring a smile to my face and you should see how the joy spreads.  When others see your mobile canvas of color in flip flops, they too will be inspired.  Being the one who does something fun first somehow gives others the courage (or permission) to say to themselves, "Hey, why not!"

Life is full of many deep and serious things that you can't escape from.  I promise it will do you some good to add moments of levity whenever the opportunity arises.

Nurturing my inner... omelet flipper

Fresh ingredients.  Proper equipment.  Killer moves.  All good to have, but seldom present in my condo.  Often, I make due.  Generally speaking though, things turn out well.  Especially with a little practice.  Plus, a lot of enthusiasm covers up a multitude of flop ups.  I thrive off of "A for effort" mentality and sport a usual okayness with failed attempts.

In line with my efforts to go organic where I can, I also enjoy patronizing my local farmers.  Not that I ever expected to find one sitting just a few cubes down from me at work.  When I found out that one of my fellow Corporate America coworkers raised chickens on the side of... whatever it is he does... I was thrilled.  Fresh eggs!  His place has no official name so I dubbed it "The Howley Family Farm."  How terribly creative of me seeing as his last name is Howley, he has a family and a chicken farm. (I have very reasonable rates for this brilliance if you want to hire me.)  Without a doubt, eggs that are only a day or two old directly from the source make a big difference.  They are deeper yellow in color and much fluffier when you whisk them.  If you're local, ask me to get in touch with the Howleys because they sell them by the dozen and you too can support your local farmers.  Trust me, you won't find better eggs anywhere else.

First thing I did was read up on chicken facts.  Don't try to understand me, I am a mystery even to myself.  And now the mysterious me will share some chicken tidbits with you, so you can be fun at parties:

Chickens can lay an egg in 24-26 hours.  (Now that freaked me out!  How so fast?)  They need at least 10 hours of daylight to produce.  (You know how we girls like our tans.)  They don't need a rooster every day because they can stay fertilized for a couple weeks. (I'm not even going to touch that one.)  And they don't lay if it's super hot out.  (Persnickety chickadees.)  Which means I had to wait through a weekend for this last batch due to the dog days of summer.  But waiting was completely worth it as you'll soon experience second hand below.

Natural beauty.

Fresh eggs mean one thing to me: omelet.  I'm not so hot with the flipping part as mostly I make a flippin' mess.  Thank goodness the repeated failure doesn't stop me from trying over and over and over again.  (Over the sink, that is.)

Today's off-white plate special:

Ash Goat Cheese, Asparagus and Turkey Bacon Omelet

2 eggs (I think it's really neat that some of them are blue! On the outside.)
6 thin stalks of asparagus cut up into 1 inch pieces (I often keep Trader Joe's frozen around, snap them into smaller pieces and then defrost in microwave.)
2 strips of cooked turkey bacon (That I tore into small pieces because I like the rustic look. Personal preference because you can use regular bacon.)
A few thin slices of Monocasy Ash goat cheese (Secret ingredient!  I like a local cheese by Cherry Glen Farm in MD that has a very distinct flavor that I cannot begin to explain.)

Cherry Glen Monocacy Ash 2009 Bronze Medal
Winner goat cheese wrapper

Creamy, tangy, ashy inside

I don't add water or milk to the beaten eggs as some people do, they must have their reasons, but I haven't found the need. I also don't tend to add much salt to things and the bacon and cheese provided enough for me to leave it out this time completely.

My pan isn't as nonsticky as I'd like, so I was on a bit of a wing and a prayer as I bring no true technique to the table.  Mostly I made sure the sides were loose and there was slipping around when I shook it.  I am in the market for a true nonstick omelet specific pan once I do some research, but my little trusty standby came through today just the same.  After working up some courage, I flipped it in one go without disaster and added a strong "Ha!" to express my bravado for doing so.  (Full disclosure: this has taken several practice runs on other days that were nothing short of comical.)

Omelet in pan - beautiful deep yellow from fresh eggs

I slid half of it out onto the dish while holding the pan at an angle, added the sliced goat cheese so it would melt quickly (you don't need much as it has a strong flavor), then the bacon and asparagus, and finally flopped (that's one for the cookbooks) down the other half on top.  Of course I did so in a way as to take a pretty picture for you that exhibited all the ingredients in the most creative formation.  Next job for me: food stylist.

The perfect omelet!

Happy to report, the taste matched the photo.  Because what good is it when something looks delectable, but tastes like a shoe.  The smokiness of the ash-layered cheese and the bacon packed a real one two punch, while the crisp asparagus cut the richness back from being overpowering.

To boost your self confidence, I also included an earlier attempt from a couple weeks ago to show you how you can salvage your mishaps and not let the unexpected shake you to the core so you'll never try again.  You just make what I call an inside out omelet - botched up eggs from a failed flip goes on the plate first then cover up with cheese and veggies, add a fork and go on your merry coffee sipping way.  It will taste just as delicious.  This one had herbed goat cheese, asparagus and mushrooms.  I had sauteed the veggies on the stove in a tiny bit of butter until soft.

A tasty mishap

Omelet flipping isn't just for hotel brunches and TV commercials.  It's a lot of fun and invites you to be daring!  You won't mess it up nearly as badly as you think you will and it's easy to recover even if you do.  If you have a local farmers market that sells eggs or if you're lucky enough to have a coworker at your telecom company who is a chicken farmer on the side (Call me, I'll hook you up!) then you have got it made.  But don't take my word for it.  Try it and let me know what you think.

Nurturing my inner... cooking with my hands

A friend of mine dropped me an email yesterday inviting me to come over and "do a little cooking with her."  Magic words as they are, which promise the ultimate pay off of some yummies, I was in!  Plus, I was working off of someone else's recipe, so I didn't have to bring a lot of brain power to the project after a work day.  Sometimes it's relaxing to follow a semi-professional who has already done it right.

She had watched a series on tv that picked the next tv chef for a show.  And the winner, Aarti, had some recipes that caught her eye.  The night before, she made the main dish, so that was ready to go.  But the side dish really intrigued her and she knew I'd be a go for it, as I am for really anything. And likely her husband who was out of town that night would not be a go.  (BTW, I'm perfectly okay with someone else's disinterest bumping me up from lower on the list to the new number one choice!)

Massaged Kale Salad.  Weird, right?  Since when does your dinner get to go to a spa.  (Heck, I don't get to go to a spa.)  Kale has been on my list of "ingredients I need to learn to cook with" though and its deep green leaves are vitaminarific, so no time like the present.  Short ingredient list didn't hurt either.

I washed the leaves and she cut them into ribbons.  Then she tossed them into a bowl with part of the dressing and said to me, "Have at it."  Uh, excuse me?  I have to really do this... with my hands?  You were serious about the massaging part?  I thought this was why forks and spoons were invented, so we could be a step above cavewomen.  (Shall I be skinning a saber-toothed tiger to make my apron next?  Wait, I may not want to know the answer.)  Thanks to the wonders of DVR, we darted into the living room for a quick tutorial from the chef herself so I could experience the weightiness of the truth that I was about to be giving my side dish a back rub. 

Here is the recipe from foodtv.com http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/aarti-sequeira/massaged-kale-salad-recipe/index.html as well as below, only those are my pictures.  (Did you really think I wouldn't document this pictorally?):

Massaged Kale Salad

1 bunch kale (black kale is especially good), stalks removed and discarded, leaves thinly sliced
1 lemon, juiced
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
Kosher salt
2 teaspoons honey
Freshly ground black pepper
1 mango, diced small (about 1 cup)
Small handful toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds), about 2 rounded tablespoons


Directions:
In large serving bowl, add the kale, half of lemon juice, a drizzle of oil and a little kosher salt. Massage until the kale starts to soften and wilt, 2 to 3 minutes. Set aside while you make the dressing.

Call me "Helga" administering the spa treatment
to the kale. It's okay to get your hands dirty.
Don't listen to your mother.

In a small bowl, whisk remaining lemon juice with the honey and lots of freshly ground black pepper. Stream in the 1/4 cup of oil while whisking until a dressing forms, and you like how it tastes.

Pour the dressing over the kale, and add the mango and pepitas. Toss and serve.

On a white plate for dramtic purposes.

It was really good!  I never expected the flavors to work so well together and be out of the predictable range.  The kale, that I had no idea could be eaten raw as I've mostly had it in soup with potato and sausage, sort of loses its tension with the massaging.  Just like we do.  (To put back into normal vegetable terms, it wilts and softens.  But that sounded SO boring.)  The floral honey combined with the acid of the lemon was a perfect match for the just slightly bitter kale with the sweet mango.  By the way, my friend didn't have pepitas, so we toasted my favorite cooking nut, the pignoli.  Worked just as well.  Along with Aarti's kale salad, I got to try her Sloppy Bombay Joes which was a nice twist of Indian flavor added to an American lunchroom favorite.  I recommend both.

Cooking with your hands seemed to have been taught to my grandmother, but did a genetic catapult over my mother.  I haven't exactly been used to getting so intimate with my meals either.  However, I'm glad I did.  I think it offered a certain sense of freedom I don't normally engage in.  There really is nothing to be afraid of.  Cooking should not be a sterile experience.  (Well, in the germ free sense yes, in the boring sense, no.)  Think back to your days of clay projects in art class.  I doubt anyone had to hold you back then from jumping right in with both hands!

Well, we can't be Shakespeare and Giada every night.  So, hope this is enough rah-rahing to get you to try this.

Nurturing my inner... grammar school reunion

One day you wake up and realize, "Dang, it's been 30 years since I've been a kid."  That day my friends... is not a pretty day.  Let me tell you how many people I keep up with from my K-6 years?  Zero.  School held some harsh times for me.  No way am I the type who gets nostalgic for that torture or wants to go back and relive any of it.  Too much teasing, too many tears.  I shut that door and moved onward...

Turns out, the door has always been cracked just a little.  I had a friend from kindergarten, Ronnie, who I remember well.  He "dated" another friend of mine all the way through 6th grade when there was a sad and dramatic breakup. (As much as there can be when you're 11.)  But when two people have spent countless hours sitting next to each other in the cafeteria and holding hands during assembly, it feels like the most awful thing to not be together anymore.  I got so used to them as a pair though, that when he asked me out in 7th grade by sending me a St. Patrick's Day lollipop I had to say no.  Just didn't seem right because his ex was my friend.  (I was so mature, wasn't I?)  Then that year, he moved away.  (I wish I was in CT and could scan a class picture right now.)

Flash forward to end of high school/start of college when I was at home.  I get a call and yep, it's Ronnie.  He had tossed his kidlike nickname at this point, so I had to adjust to calling him Ron.  This was harder to do than you might think.  I also had to get used to his voice being definitely deeper.  So, Ron was in town and wanted to stop by.  He shows up at the door with long hair and an earring.  I thought my parents were gonna freak.  And we weren't even dating.  We went out, we had fun and I believe there was some kind of mishap involving a car.  It was hard to believe so many years had gone by.  Then he was gone again.  Off to the military.

Flash forward some more and I have graduated from college, been working at my second real job ever and living in my own apartment when my phone rings.  It's Ron.  He found me again.  (How did he do it before Facebook?)  He was visiting his Dad who lived two hours south of my town and wanted to come up and see me.  We hung out, went to see a movie, he lost his car keys and there was a slight panic. (What is with us and car disasters!)  Fun times.  It was as if not much time had passed at all.  Hug, bye, and off he went!

More calendar pages flip by and you're seeing a pattern here.  Ron got married while overseas, had a baby and I was in a slightly better apartment when my phone rings.  He was in town with his wife and wanted to come up so I could meet her.  We all went out, had some dinner, caught up again after the last six year installment and you guessed it, a bear hug and bye again.

It's nearly unbelievable, but I got an email today that Ron sent me to say he was at his Dad's, driving up for work in MD, he would be in my area around lunchtime and hoped we could get together.  I'm so glad my calendar was open.  It had been another eight or so years, and there was Ronnie again.  My trusty childhood pal.  With no hair!  (He shaved his head and it really suited him.)  But still with the same face that I remember from way (WAY!) back when.  He had already found me on Facebook last year and we caught up some on email.  But it was so much more fun to talk in person as we sat outside on a beautiful day at The Counter Burger in Reston Town Center enjoying a completely yummy build your own turkey burger (mine with cheddar, pancetta, mixed greens and chipotle aioli, his with bacon and herbed goat cheese).  A good friend and good food.  Great day.  (Darn, forgot to take a picture.  So go to the website and check out the menu. http://www.thecounterburger.com/menu/)

We eased quickly into meaningful conversation.  He had experienced a lot of hard things in the past dozen years.  I knew some of it.  And when I had seen him last, I surmised what at least a portion of the issue was.  It made me sad that this sweet little boy I remember from kindergarten in his Buster Browns and sweater vest had a heaviness on his shoulders.  Which is what some nice guys bear up under because they really are that nice.  (Taking the high road ain't for sissies.)

But this time, to my delight, he looked so happy!  I had never seen him this way.  His life was back in gear and I knew he had made the right choices, even though they were hard.  I was joyous inside to see that this person I had known for nearly my entire life had grown into such a strong and cool guy. It was time for him to have the love in his life he deserved, whom he promptly married last fall.  (Nice to know he's smart too!)  He had found someone who could appreciate him for all the wonderful qualities he has and treat him with the respect he needed.  Who doesn't love a happy ending?!!

[I have to note that as the outside observer, you just know when someone is with the right person because it truly does make them a better person.  From how they are with serving their family, to their openness with friends and just how they are around people in general.  If instead they are constantly cranky, often withdrawn and conveniently isolated, hello, huge red flags.  Any man or woman who does that to someone you love is NOT the one for them!]

I'm really glad that Ronnie, uh Ron, manages to find me every six to eight years.  We don't talk for so long, but then when we meet up, we have a great time.  He told me about his hobbies, cooking related interests, teenage son, new wife.  And I just smiled inside for him and what he has built out of the ashes.

I've learned that even if your childhood had a lot of yucky stuff in it, there are also some redeemable things to be found.  It's good to be open to spending an hour with an old friend when they show up out of the blue.  Don't talk yourself out of it because you haven't had any contact in a dozen or even two dozen years.  Just go!  Or maybe you need to be the one to reach out and contact your childhood pal that day.  It really can make for a lovely lunch date when you spend a little time catching up with an old school chum.

He was not this tall in Bethany Elementary

Nurturing my inner... weirdo health nut

I've gone organic.  Well, as much as someone who refuses to give up Chinese takeout can.  Now I find I'm just one wheatgrass shot shy of a tree hugger in a gauzy skirt and Birkenstocks.  (I do actually own the latter, but never you mind.  I'm no hero.  Let's just leave it at that.)

It started some months back while getting a smoothie at a local popular chain.  Acai, oh powerful purple super fruit, how I love thee.  I was hooked.  Next thing I know, I found myself having them add one of their special boosting powders and I was ready to take on the world.  But why should it stop there?  What's that green stuff people are drinking in tiny cups?  Wheatgrass?  How do you juice grass anyhow?

1 ounce cup of fresh wheatgrass juice

I know you're thinking I've really lost it now.  Like, grass that grows in a box.  That you juice in a super slow extractor.  And pour into a tiny cup.  And it looks like something you skimmed off a local stagnant pond.  (Nummy nummy.)  Well, people juice spinach, kale, celery and tons of other green things.  Wheatgrass just happens to be another natural way to get vitamins from something fresh.  You should give it a shot! (For real.)

In recent months, I've read up on it some and the many detoxifying health benefits wheatgrass juice has.  There are people who swear by it daily.  Mostly I feel like it is a boost of green goodness going straight into my bloodstream, so I'm not knocking it.  And on Sundays I get a double punch on my frequent buyer card.  So a double win.  Woo hoo!

Before you put me on some vegan pedestal, you have to hear about the other side of me.  Story part B unfolds...

Late yesterday I texted a friend and we thought we'd take on a cooking project today.  It was a go since her husband was out of town leaving the entire afternoon open, our last endeavor had been a while and she's been a great partner to me in culinary adventures in the past. Though ill prepared, we set a time and figured we'd come up with a well honed idea in time to grocery shop.

After church let out, I met her in the lobby and said, "Okay, so are we doing this today?"  It wasn't but a few seconds later that tears started to well up in her eyes.  Not knowing her to be one who cries a lot, I was a little concerned and said we'd take it outside.  To which she nodded.

We sat out on the benches and she shared with me that she was just having a bad day.  I knew what had been going on recently and have learned that sometimes a few crummy things happen all at once and just knock you in the gut.  I told her I wasn't really up for cooking either and asked her what we might want to do instead.  Take out?  Rent a movie?  Have lunch out at a local restaurant?  Then the perfect idea came up - fast food!

So wait, hold up!  Before you get all judgy and finger pointery, I want to go on the record that I am NOT a proponent of eating tons of fast food.  I'm not even really a burgers and fries kind of girl.  When given the choice, I'm more likely to go for Thai or Mexican.  But it was a moment that needed comfort food and girl talk.  And that is that.

Life is about balance.  And good health is part of that, for sure.  But so is freedom and grace.  Satisfaction doesn't often go hand in hand with full time deprivation.  (In fact, I find that a quick shot recipe for impending disaster.)  Eating healthy most of the time and indulging in something occasionally that you definitely want fries with reminds you to not get too caught up in an unforgivably restrictive set of personal rules.

So if your friend needs a chat, and that involves you forgoing your bean sprouts for lunch on a bun, just make sure you're not so bound by your own regimented eating philosophy that you forget to put what matters first.  Eat some fries.  Be a good listener.  Your friend will feel great that you cared and the wheatgrass will still be there tomorrow.

Nurturing my inner... simple lunch preparer

Some days, you just gotta keep it simple.  (Both lunching and blogging.)

Tuna With Pickles and Herbs

croissant
tuna
mayo
sandwich pickles
herbs de Provence
avocado

Buy an extremely delicious croissant from the bakery that comes to the Lake Anne Farmer's Market.  (I know, if you're not local that was kind of showy offy of me, wasn't it.)  In a bowl, mix a can of white albacore tuna, mayo to preference, two slices of sandwich pickles chopped up and some herbs de Provence to taste.  The herbs de Provence add a lovely, unique herbaceous and ever so slightly floral taste that complements the meaty tuna quite nicely.  Tres bon!

All mixed up

Slice the croissant open, spread out tuna mixture on the bottom half, slice a quarter of an avocado very thinly and fan out on top of tuna.  Sprinkle with a bit more herbs de Provence and add top of croissant in less artistic fashion than below so you can actually pick it up and eat it.  (Because I don't think you'll be taking a picture of it like I did, unless you have some weird food picture taking obsession.  Which of course, I do not.  See photo below.)

Lunch displayed on the showroom floor

You don't have to have a lot of ingredients to make something really tasty.  Just a few key items, one hand painted plate and you're good to go.

This of course deserves to be followed up with a two ingredient (to keep in the spirit of simplicity) frozen treat.

Mango and Yogurt Popsicles

mango
1/2 container 2% Fage yogurt

Make sure mango is soft and ripe so it's super flavorful because it will be frozen.  Peel, cut off of pit and dice.  When it's a super ripe mango, I squeeze the juice from the part left around the pit because it gives the yogurt even more flavor.  Place in bowl and mix in approximately half a container of yogurt.  Put into containers about 1/2 inch from the top to give it room to expand when it freezes.  I bought these simple Popsicle makers from Tupperware some years ago and they work fantastically well.  (Yes, that is Mickey Mouse on the handle as I didn't have a choice and I'm sure these were designed with little kids in mind.  Did that stop me from buying them?  Obviously not.)

Frozen treat

The good thing about a simple prep lunch and premade dessert, it comes together in no time, you don't have to compromise quality nor taste and you get to dig in right away.  What's there not to like about that!!

Nurturing my inner... low budget theater goer

Don't laugh.  But I have a favorite theater I go to.  The Fairfax Cinema Arts Theatre.  (They try to evoke a certain sense of mystery by spelling theater "re", but really, there is no need.)

"Theatre" exterior

Does that facade evoke class or what?  The cookie cutter strip mall.  But it's MY low class, why are they still missing floor tiles, in dire need of remodeling theatre at the strip mall.  And I'm darn proud of it.

My friend Lauren, thank goodness for me, has a special fondness for this little theater as well.  That's because it tends to carry "films," really, as opposed to what we think of as movies.  Not that some block buster hits don't make it to their banged up, tattered screens, but mostly it showcases those foreign and independent (read as subtitled and no budget) lesser known works of art that got some strange award from a festival you've never heard of in east Budapest.

Let me just say, I'd be letting you down if I didn't tell you that the opening film strip that tells theater etiquette has got to be from about 1978 and my favorite part is the laser sound effects that are all but out of "Xanadu."  One more thing and I promise to stop the pain, but we even went there one time by accident for a local film maker's premiere, complete with one celebrity (the 12 year old girl from the movie), history and introduction by the very filmmakers themselves in person and free mini desserts on tiny napkins.  We mingled, we laughed like we belonged, it was just like Hollywood - if their premieres were held back in time circa 1980 in a rundown, outdated mall under constant construction in south side Detroit.

But the real draw - tradition.  We stop at the same little Thai place every time we go.  (We were wracking our brains earlier for the name and could not think of it to save our lives until we saw the sign: Thailand.  Um, really.  Yeah, see pic above.  It's truly best neither of us is in a medical profession.)

Lauren, who never takes a bad picture

Uh, so we noticed the glass actually says "Star of Siam."  Yeah, that's not the name of the restaurant.  That's how kitchy it is!  But with a bowl of soup the size of your bathtub for under $7.00, it's a sweet piece of reliability and no nonsense.  (Even if the consistency it brings happens to be tacky and unmatchy beyond comprehension.)

You know what they say, "When in Thailand...." This was my attempt at trying something new:

Sticky rice with custard

I'd like to explain what I decided to try for dessert, but it may be challenging.  I don't usually prefer my food to be, well, grey.  Or resembling anything you use to caulk holes in your house.  However, I am adventurous and figured, how bad could this combo be?  It wasn't bad at all once you got past the fact that it looked like baby food (possibly in various stages of both going into and coming out of said baby).  The sticky rice was formed into a cake and the sweet custard was spooned on top like a milky gravy.  It was warm.  The taupe colored stuff on the right was a kind of chilled coconut mouse.  Not too sweet, but flavorful.  All dusted with toasted sesame seeds and placed on a lavender flower-shaped plate.  Very middle school cafeteria chic!  (Fun is really all in your personal outlook.)

Once again, the clever Thailand (darn tricky name!) cuisine and "you can put your own butter from the machine on your popcorn" theatre didn't disappoint us.  These aren't places to go for flashy, high tech entertainment and five star cuisine.  But in the super affluent area I live in, I like that!  Here's to the little man whose keepin' it real.

I am certain there are many local favorite places that have a soft spot in your heart, where the food is a few notches above edible and you've gone to forever, that you're just too embarrassed to tell anyone about.  (Because once they know this about you, they can never unknow it.)  Eh, be brave!  Make it a point to keep going there year after year despite the snobs.  And don't forget to take special people with you who can love your secret spots as much as you do.

Nurturing my inner... DC city girl

DC Restaurant Week just happened.  The August installment.  The other time is January, which makes me wonder why they insist on doing this during the stinkin' hottest and bitter coldest times of the year.  But hey, who am I to question restaurant owner wisdom.

In the past several years, I've participated in Restaurant Week a handful of times.  And it really is a thing of beauty.  Even though the prices have risen since I first started going.  Since it's 2010, the featured price this year was $35.10 for a three or four course meal at a really nice place that if you normally went and bought it all ala carte, you'd spend more than double.  Yeah, yeah, portions may be a wee bit smaller at some places and it is a limited menu, but pa-leeze, the food is fantastic.  So brilliance hit me this year when I said to one of my friends, "Hey, instead of me going out and buying you some gift that I'm totally going to guess at and you may or may not love and most likely lose it in your closet in three weeks not to be found until two years later, let me take you out to dinner."  (I know, that really was a stroke of genius.  And if it benefited me at the same time as well, hey, whatcha gonna do.)

This year's stop, Notti Bianche.  (Which must translate to "yummy goodness" in Italian.)  A quick little airconditionless (ugh - there was reward for pain) metro ride to Foggy Bottom, then a two minute walk and we were at the doors of Mediterranean sweet deliciousness.  Unlike what my mother thinks from watching the news way too much, DC is a wonderful city and you won't get shot at the second you step foot on the sidewalk.  (If you stay out of SE.)

Notti Bianche was almost a little hard to spot because it was in a converted row house amongst residences where actual people live.  I find this to be such a wise move.  Why build new, humongous buildings when there are these lovely old homes just looking for some TLC and a chance at greatness.  A restaurant doesn't have to seat 500 to be incredible.  Frankly, the smaller venues tend to have more personalized care and unique experiences.  Just say no to chains.

Parppadelle bolognese and herbed ricotta

Now that I've decided to blog on many randomly odd topics, mostly food if you've noticed, I've dragged my friends in on it.  The place was small and cozy and though our table was somewhat close to our neighbors on either side, I still unashamedly handed my camera to Jill and said, "Okay, I need you to take a picture.  Oh, and could you take it on an angle like this because that makes it interesting."  (Like what was I, her college photography professor?)  I left a little of her shadow in this picture of her dinner, because I felt she needed some props for a job well done.

When you see a picture like that, does it really even have to taste good?  The plating alone was enough to behold.  (BTW, it was a fine meal.)  There is so much that goes into a great dining experience.  I've come to realize I enjoy the creative side of food display and ambiance as much as I do actually cooking and eating.  The building, interior, tables, chairs, plates, napkins, glasses, silverware, lighting, music.... it all comes together like a symphony of sensory engagement.  That sort of effort needs devoted time and attention to appreciate.  My words of wisdom when you go do this for yourself: slow down.  Drink in the moment.  Heck, you're in DC for Pete's sake.  Life is good today.

Chocolate budino & Lemon semifreddo

The eggplant carponata and cheese plate started the experience off on a great note, so I knew I was not going to be disappointed.  I had a seemingly simple pasta with marinara and basil that some how wove magic flavor into every chewy bite because it was one of the best spaghetti pomodoros I've ever had.  Simple can often be better than complex if you know what you're doing.  Remember that next time you decide to throw a dinner party.  Then I went for the chocolate cake with cocoa nib brittle, pistachio gelato and creme anglaise.  Rich, creamy, great combo.  Jill let me take a bite of hers, as I suspect all my friends will now do if I promise to feature them in a post.  It was a delicate lemony ice cream surrounded by a thin layer of cake, topped with huckleberry compote and crushed toffee.  Who comes up with this stuff?!!!

Living in the burbs can make you forget how great it is to make the trip into the city.  I should go more often.  It's totally worth it.  There is so much there to enjoy.  We walked through a garden nearby on the way over, listened to some man playing a guitar by the metro entrance, heard all the bustle of cars and lively people.  The city truly is beautiful if you know how to look at it.  Make a special trip downtown soon like you used to.  It will make you feel younger.

Nurturing my inner... bleh

Too much rain.  I've had it.  It's been DAYS.  Do I live in London?  I think not.  I'd never even survive stateside in Seattle.  (Yet now I know why they have all that great coffee in the Northwest.  To help them survive the day by confusing them with a caffeine rush so they don't think to move to Hawaii!)

I haven't been able to run pretty much at all in nearly a week because of the thunderstorms.  You just don't mess with lightning.  I've also had a mind numbing week of technically intensive work in Corporate America and conspicuous lack of after work fun plans.  Doldrums set in.  Comfy clothes take precedence over looking cute.  Energy to be a clever cook was nowhere to be found.  So, I just gave in to the great sucking void that was my living room.

Tonight, I sat my duff on the sofa and have not moved from this very cushion for hours.  I watched several episodes of funny British Comedy (oh yes, I get their humour - spelled with an extra 'u' just for them) and ate three brownie bites while drinking a beer.  (Why yes, that is about as edgy as I get.  You want a piece of me!)  Sometimes you just need to sit in your moment of bleh, eating comfort food while watching something distracting on TV, and accept it instead of trying to drum up the energy to attack that long overdue to do list.  That honestly has nothing that pressing on it and will still be there tomorrow, when hopefully there is sun.  As for right now... it's overcast.  It's stormy.  It's flooding.  And that pile of stuff on the dining room table can wait to be organized another day.  The world will not come to an end this evening due to your lack of productivity.

I felt so lazy and sluggish the past couple of days.  Pretty much when I'm not industrious, I beat myself up about it.  There is a certain amount of dubious respect (when I'm not grumbling about them under my breath) I place on those who are of the constantly high energy sort.  As I am not.  I can fly from one end of the spectrum to the other, getting more done by noon some days than I do in several other days combined.  Today was not one of my more illustrious and back-pattingly active days.  In fact, I didn't even want to write tonight.  But I skipped last night too (while being in the same rut of rainy Blehville), so, I thought I'd write about, well, obviously not much.  To prove a point.

Here's the thing... it's okay.  There is no rule that says we have to be amazing people every day.  (Unless it's been hidden in the new health care bill, which is entirely possible.)  I am not a celebrity, nor an entrepreneur.  I don't save people's lives in a hospital.  The world will continue in all it's twirling amazement when I achieve pretty much zippo in a few days.  I'm just an average girl.  And an expert sofa warmer.  That's my DNA.

But just as I was settling nicely into my comfortable nothingness, I started poking around the web and found a blog that I thought was really cool in concept.  http://newdressaday.wordpress.com/page/27/ This 30 year old, young woman decided to take on a challenge she created for herself as she too was feeling bleh (after losing her job).  Nice to know I'm not the only one who gets this way.

For one year, she was going to bypass traditional clothes shopping and instead, buy ugly dresses/shirts (with potential) from flea markets/garage sales for $1.00 and transform them into cute fashion.  One a day.  Hello?  Brilliant AND interesting.  I love that idea!  First off, it's creative.  Second, it's a wise use of money and challenges her to look at what she already owns in a new light.  Third, every day is an exciting personal challenge with an unpredictable ending.  And I don't even need to go on from here.  I posted this to an online social network in my status update and a friend wrote saying she was JUST looking at the very same thing and suggested we take a sewing class.  Ah, a spark in my bleh day.

Exhibit A: The Singer Sewing machine my parents have owned since 1970 that is now in my condo in the guest room.

Singer Sewing Machine 1970

Exhibit B: Me.

Me, circa 1971

(I didn't say that was current me.  But darned if I didn't have some keen fashion sense right from the get go.)

I believe it's time to bust it out, dust it off (perhaps have it serviced) and figure out how to use it once again.  I've had other friends tell me recently that they too have wanted to take a sewing class, so wouldn't it be cool if several of us went together.  Seriously ladies, we all should be able to hem a pair of pants or curtains in our own homes.  It's a darn shame that we don't.  And hiding behind feminism is getting to be a really worn out excuse.  At the heart of it, I really think we've gotten kind of lazy.  I know I have.  It cannot be that hard to learn some basics and it surely costs a lot less than having to pay someone else to do it for us.

It's not "1950s old fashioned housewife" to be able to sew proficiently.  Those women we often turn our noses up at were well organized, hard working and wise with their time and money.  Fair to say, often more so than we are most days with much more help.  I think it's time we stop putting them down for not dumping us into childcare so they could put themselves first as CEOs instead of nurses or school teachers who were home when we were, and started taking lessons from the amazing and sacrificial business women they were inside our very own homes.  They didn't have credit cards, house cleaners and restaurants on every corner like we have.  In fact, they were all the things we pay people to be for us today - financial advisors, maids, cooks - and they didn't whine about it anywhere near the way we do.

Time to give ourselves a quick history lesson and get in touch with some long forgotten values.

Nurturing my inner... back to school student

Hard to believe it's almost that time of year again.  I can tell by all the sale flyers.  It's nice to have a lack of new classroom anxiety though.  I'm quite happy I'm not actually having to step foot back into the hallowed halls of higher learning and popularity polarization of lunchroom table roulette.  (Uuhhh... I shudder at the memories.)

However, the story wouldn't fully be told if I left out the pure joy of getting new warm and toasty fall clothes.  Oh JC Penney catalog... the sweet, sweet times we've spent together.  The sweater dreams.  The courdoury fantasies.  The character lunchboxes!  Yes!

Most of my childhood pictures are still at my mother's house.  Which leaves me unable to rifle through boxes in hopes of finding actual proof of exactly which lunchboxes I carted around for more years than I'm sure it was cool.  I can tell you that Wonder Woman, Holly Hobby and likely some kittens graced the lids of my metal sandwich and juice toters at one time or another.

After entering the corporate world in the 90s, there was no real need for me to have a lunchbox any longer.  Not with having several buddies to go out with every day.  Things have changed in the past couple of years with the economy, many people work from home at my company and I've come to prefer saving my eating out for socializing.  So I used plastic, disposable shopping bags for the daily haul for months.  Only, they aren't very sturdy, nor reliable.  And now with me bringing reusable bags to the market, my stockpile of flimsy ones has dwindled severely.  Oh what is a girl who makes lunch at home to do?  Go to Office Depot, of course.

The brand new lunchbox for grownups!

Right, so it's not colorful, flashy or covered with superhero graphics.  But it is water resistant, insulated and I'm okay with the understated basic black.  I'm excited!  In fact, I now have an urge to buy a new pencil box and some pens to go with it.  (Guess that feeling never leaves you no matter how old you get.)

It may seem like when you work at the same place for some years that every day is just the same old same old at times.  Not as many first days except when you switch departments, but hopefully only last days of your choosing.  (I've been through three layoffs, so I know what that's like.)  Doesn't hurt to give yourself a fresh start even if you've been somewhere for five years, eight months and seven days.  (Just sayin'.)  Shake it up!  The spark needs to be reignited when you're in a rut and you may have to be the very person to light your own fire.  I'm thinking of this week as embarking on a new journey with unforeseen opportunity and strong personal growth just around the corner.  Possibility is a great motivator!  (So is a yummy lunch!)

I needed something to put in my new lunchbox today, so you get an easy recipe to boot.

Curry Chicken Salad

2 chicken breasts (1 1/2 pounds approx.)
1/4 cup mayo (Hellman's makes an olive oil one that has less fat)
1/4 cup 2% Fage or greek style yogurt
1 1/2 tsps sweet curry powder (Penzeys is darn tasty)
1/3 cup toasted almond slices (Trader Joe's!)
1/3 cup golden raisins
Boston lettuce leaves

Boil chicken in chicken broth (Trader Joe's concentrate packets) until cooked through, take out, put on plate and let cool.  Shred or chop into chunks.  Add mayo, yogurt and curry powder.  Mix until chicken is thoroughly coated.  Fold in almonds and raisins.  Put a few Boston lettuce leaves in a bowl and add a scoop of chicken salad on top.  Can even wrap the salad in a lettuce leaf.  (I like it in a regular wrap too!)

Curry Chicken Salad

Nurturing my inner... musical delighter

Wolf Trap is such a wonderful outdoor theater, which I forget every year until I attend something incredible.  Then I want to smack myself in the head for waiting until the end of the season when it's too late to get to too much more.  Not every part of the country has such a great open air venue for live entertainment and I need to purpose to go more than once a summer.

I've been listening to the soundtrack for Legally Blonde: The Musical for a few years.  Oh yes, I have it memorized.  I am happy to report that it was as fantastic as I hoped!  The choreography and talent were top notch.  I laughed a ton!  (Disclaimer: It is Broadway, so there are a few slightly off color parts that were not on the CD, so I can't be held responsible if you see it and take offense to that.  But you should not let that stop you!  As far as professional shows go, it's as PG 13 as you're gonna get.  Next to Wicked.  Which I've seen in NY and DC and highly recommend as well.)

Me, Sherry, Dora, Becky and Gigi

A few weeks back I sent an email to a dozen of my friends.  Since I was planning on going even if it had to be by myself, I was thrilled that four people responded that they wanted to come along.  What I liked was that they didn't all necessarily know one another.  As a gatherer, I jump on the opportunity to connect people.  Any chance I get, I try to have group outings revolving around interaction and entertainment.  I live in such a culturally rich area, it is just wrong not to take advantage of that.

The five of us met for a casual lunch and they all got to chat.  Two of them realized they knew each other from the same high school.  Another was a group leader for one of the girls years ago.  Maybe the world is not as big as we think.

As for the details of the show: the costumes were fun, the set designs were clever, the choreography was unbelievable and they even had a live Bruiser the chihuahua! It was nearly impossible not to tap my feet and sing along through the entire show!  I was pained with restraint.  Had we been able to choose our talents and careers in life, I would have been right up there on stage with the cast.  Sadly, I have not a lick of singing talent for starters.  And it goes downhill from there.  Guess I'll settle for being involved from rear orchestra seating and admiring those super talented women and men shine from center stage.

It's so great when people of all different areas of your life can come together and delight in something common.  Makes for such a fun time for everyone.  Mix and match your friends.  You might get something unexpected.

Nurturing my inner... Mexican

Today is a recipe day.  (Yippee!)  Once I figure out what I actually did and write it down for you.  Because I make stuff up as I go along.  You will learn this soon enough.  I will not be bound by the constraints of a recipe!  Good reason for me to stay away from baking.  (I would like to make a side comment that I do not understand why people go grocery shopping with mp3 players on and their ear buds in.  Honestly, you can't be unplugged for 30 minutes?)

Enchilada Bake

2 chicken breasts (I'd say around 1 1/2 - 2 pounds.  If you want precision, go to the professionals.  I'm just a web content manager who guesses at stuff and hopes for the best.)
6-8 oz sour cream
1/2 - 3/4 bottle green enchilada sauce (I prefer Ortega.)
1/2 can chopped green chilies
1 cup shredded Mexican cheese
6 Corn tortillas
Chicken broth (I use Trader Joe's concentrate packets that you add to water.)
Fresh cilantro
Fresh lime

Boil chicken breast in pot with chicken broth until cooked through.  About 20 min.  Take chicken out of liquid, try not to burn yourself, put on plate and let cool down.  Save broth.  (Pay attention to this small, yet important detail.)

Mix enchilada sauce, chilies and sour cream together in a bowl.  Pull the chicken apart in a shredded like fashion as to appear like you know what you're doing, add to the sauce and sour cream mixture and then, well, mix some more.  (I'm no TV host.)  Use nonstick spray on the bottom and sides of a 10" x 7" rectangular baking dish. (I love my red Le Crueset stoneware that was a gift.  You can buy them on Amazon or at the Leesburg Outlet where they have 15-35% off sales at times.)

Put down two corn tortillas in the stoneware.  (The original recipe I used when I first started to make these said to cut them into strips, but since I've done it several times and tweaked it, I've learned it wasn't necessary.  But if you really want to cut them in inch long strips though, have at it.  Make origami.  Whatever.)  Spoon half of the chicken mixture onto the tortillas in an even layer, add two tortillas on top of that and cover with half the cheese.  Spread out remaining half of mixture on top of that.  Put the last two tortillas on top and then the last half of the shredded cheese.  Cover and bake in a 375 degree oven for 30 minutes, remove foil, bake for another 10 minutes uncovered until golden brown.  Remove from the oven, stare at the wonderful creation made by your own two little hands, take a picture to show your mother as proof because she won't believe you and cut into four sections. (Can be square or rectangular. Personal preference really.)  Add a squeeze of fresh lime juice and chopped cilantro to finish at the end like a professional.  (Which would not be me, but this little tip makes me look good to others.)

Still in the stoneware all bubbly

Crazy Beans

1/4 green pepper (chopped)
1/4 yellow onion (chopped)
1 medium carrot (chopped)
1 ear of fresh corn (cut off the cob)
3 cloves garlic (sliced)
1 can pinto beans (not drained)
1/2 can diced tomatoes (mine had green chilies in them)
1/2 can green chilies
1/2 tsp taco seasoning
dash of salt
2-3 strips of bacon
1 cup or so of chicken broth from above recipe (Where I told you not to throw it out earlier, so I hope you listened to me or our teacher/student relationship is going to be strained from here on out.)

In a medium pot, add beans with liquid, diced tomatoes, green chilies, corn, taco seasoning and broth.  Cut bacon into small pieces and render until crispy in a neighboring frying pan.  Take bacon out and add to beans.  In the bacon fat (seriously, you've come this far, so just go for it) or olive oil, cook the pepper, onion, carrot and garlic on medium low until soft.  Add that to the beans.  Stir it all together, bring up to simmer, cover and cook for 30 min which will thicken it up some.  Stir occasionally, taste because it's yummy, and watch carefully to make sure liquid doesn't evaporate super quickly.  If it gets too thick, turn the heat down a little and add more of the left over chicken broth to thin it out to your liking.  Serve in small, brightly colored bowls.  Because you can.  (I wanted to add a bit of chopped avocado to top them off as well, but the ones I bought weren't ready yet, so not this time.)

Served in my hand-painted plates from Mexico that I got in San Antonio, TX in 2009

I really did create the bean recipe on a whim today when I thought of the beans they serve at Rio Grande.  I wanted something to go with the enchilada bake and those ingredients came to mind.  It's liberating to be adventurous with food.  I used to be so afraid to just get in there and give it a shot, so I often let that stop me from doing anything at all.  Because, what if I really messed it all up?  This is what you do if you really blow it beyond repair - throw it out and start over.  It's not the end of the world!  Some of the best things I've made recently were by combining about three or four different recipes I saw instead of following one recipe to the letter.  But now the recipes I have are uniquely mine with my own personal flavor.  Now it's your turn to give it a shot.  What have you got to lose?