My Kitchen Lately

Quinoa cooked in soy milk with fresh cranberries

& of course a big mug of earl grey tea :)

 Vegan Corn Chowder (recipe from Skinny Bitch: Ultimate Everyday Cookbook)

& Sweet Cornbread (recipe from Vegan Diner)

Vegan Avocado Buttercream Frosting (recipe from Joy the Baker)

Dear Husband To Be,

I want a townhouse.


Can we agree on that?


I don't want a big house on acres and acres of land. It's completely unnecessary to me. I don't need a hot tub or a master bedroom. Hell, I don't even need a big kitchen. I don't need a ton of counter space. As long as I can have a set of copper bottomed stainless steel pans hanging from the ceiling, I'll be happy. I prefer a cozy kitchen. Especially one with beat up wooden counter tops.


I simply need a space where we can be happy together. A space where I can have a small office. It doesn't even have to be a "real" office. A little nook in the living room is fine. I simply want a space where we can watch 90's sitcoms on DVD, cuddled on the couch. A space where we can someday put up a Christmas tree in the corner. I simply need a small dining room, so we can host small dinner parties with friends. A space where we can have dinners for two. I simply want to feel that delicious cold of a hardwood floor as I walk down the hall first thing in the morning. A hall where pictures of us will hang on the walls. I simply need a tiny backyard with a good fence so Eleanor Rigby has a place to play. A yard where we can sit on the back steps with Coronas in the summertime. 


I don't want a big house at all. I just want a home for us.

Homesick

Sometimes, I watch Gossip Girl just to view those shots over looking the city at the beginning of every other scene.

And I'm reminded of why I love New York.

Reminded of that feeling I had the first time I stepped off of a train platform in Grand Central Station.

It was no longer a dream.

I was no longer that little girl who kept a stamp of Lady Liberty next to a New York state quarter and a candle that said, "New York City" on it in a shimmery pink glitter. That little girl who dreamed about "the big city."

The orange lighting. the people. my new subway map. dragging my suitcase on the pavement through Chelsea. that moment when I thought to myself this is home.


I go back to that moment every chance I get.

It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was only seventeen-years-old.

Sometimes, that day feels so far away.

Then, I remind myself, I'm still so young. I still have plenty of time to make it my home.

Tangible & Intangible

"Like most people who love to cook, I like the tangible things. I like the way the knife claps when it meets the cutting board. I like the haze of sweet air that hovers over a hot cake as it sits, cooling, on the counter. I like the way a strip of orange peel looks on an empty plate. But what I like even more are the intangible things: the familiar voices that fall out of the folds of an old cookbook, or the scenes that replay like a film reel across my kitchen wall. When we fall in love with a certain dish, I think that's what we're often responding to: that something else behind the fork or the spoon, the familiar story that food tells."
-Molly Wizenburg, A Homemade Life, p. 2&3

Happy

So...I think I've figured it out.

What I want to do in life.

I know. BIG.

But here it is...

I want to be happy.

And I think I've got a pretty good plan for it.

I want to photograph. And write. And cook. Ideally work at some dream job that allows me to combine all three.

I want to sew. I want to make my own dresses with pretty fabrics...and maybe someday make clothes for my future kiddos.

I want to read. And dance. And watch good movies. And play with my puppy. And travel. Oh, places I want to go!

I want to run a small baking business. Not now, but someday.

Because no matter what I do, what other dreams I chase, I keep coming back to way it feels to roll out a pie crust. I keep coming back to the way my mother and I would sprinkle flour on the counter, plop the sticky dough down, and push with the wooden rolling pin.

I keep coming back to how it feels to drop a cup full of chocolate chips into cookie batter. How it's still fun to lick the beaters as they bake in the oven.

I keep coming back to the beautiful frustration of frosting a cake. How impatient I am when it comes to letting it cool first.

I keep coming back to the smell of adding melted Earth Balance to the beginnings of a graham cracker crust.   How the crackers crunch under the fork and that heavenly scent as it sits in the oven.

I keep coming back to muffins and scones. How they make coffee or tea taste that much better. Especially in the wintertime.

So, I will do these things. And I will be happy.

Oh, Autumn

Remember how I didn't want fall to come?

Yeah, I'm over that.

I am dreaming of apple cider and pumpkin patches. I caught myself baking vegan apple pecan muffins a few days ago. I am dying to photograph the changing leaves and layer up in scarves. I am already craving pumpkin pies and winter squash. And do you know what else is lovely in the fall? Roasted veggies.

The October issue of Whole Living printed a recipe for Roasted Fall Vegetables with Lentils. I took inspiration from it and this is what followed....

Roasted Vegetables with Black Rice

Ingredients:
1 cup of organic black rice (I tend to buy from the bulk section in my local health food store)
2 1/2 cups of water
1 large organic red bell pepper, cut into 1/2 inch strips
1 large organic carrot, chopped into two inch pieces resembling homemade matchstick carrots
1/2 medium to large organic red onion, cut into 1/2 inch wedges
1 14 oz can of artichoke hearts, drained
5 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 tsp Dijon mustard
4 tsp apple cider vinegar

1) Place black rice and water into a medium size pot. Bring to a boil and reduce to simmer over low heat for 55-60 min.
2) Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Arrange veggies over two baking sheets and drizzle a tablespoon of the olive oil over each baking sheet and season with salt and pepper (I also think chopped garlic would be good on here too. Feel free to add some). Bake for 20-30 min, rotating once. Keep an eye on the veggies as to not burn the bottoms.
3) In a small bowl whisk together remaining three tablespoons of olive oil, Dijon mustard, and apple cider vinegar.
4) Toss cooked rice, roasted veggies, and dressing together. Enjoy!

Nevermind. I'll Find Someone Like You.

Guess where I found myself this morning.

The quaint coffee shop just off of campus where I sat studying my freshman year of college. The same coffee shop where I started my very first blog.

I needed to be inspired, so I went there. The whole place has been remodeled, but it still has the hardwood floors I dearly loved.

This whole day held an air of memories. It's only the last day of August, but it feels like fall. The moist air, the smell of smoke, and the coffee tastes richer. Coffee always tastes more rich in the fall, doesn't it?

I can't decided if I'm okay with this. Normally, I welcome the start of fall with open arms, and I am excited for it, but this year feels different. Maybe it's because we had such a cold spring and the weather didn't get warm until late June. I just feel like there is still more summer to experience. I'm not quite ready to trade the feel of the sun kissing my bare legs for tights. And I never got around to making a peach pie or cherry tart all summer.

I still wanted to go the amusement park and take a trip to Seattle. But I wanted to do those things with him. And maybe that's why I'm mad at summer's end. When the summer ends I know it'll really feel over.

He will go on with her. I will start my class. I will pour everything I have into my work. I will search for a job and an apartment. Hopefully, buy a new puppy. I will buy tons of kitchen equipment and cook fabulous things all the time. I will finally get around to reading all those Fitzgerald novels on my shelf. I'll explore more of my hobbies, rekindle my love to sew, learn more about wine. I will meet new friends and have plenty of good times with old ones. And slowly, I will do all theses things until one morning I won't be able to feel him anymore. He will be nothing more than a sweet, but vague memory of the man I once loved with every ounce of myself.

It's astonishing how knowledge of this is so heartbreaking and comforting all at once. That I will be able to move past him. I will be able to love somebody else. Yet, loving someone else means I will never love him the same way again. It will be further strained. Broken just a little bit more than it was before.

But I suppose even broken glass is beautiful.

So, rich coffee tasting, smoky, near fall day, maybe you will give way to a beautiful mosaic.

Post title from Adele's "Someone Like You"

Funks and Avocados

So, I pulled a disappearing act on you.
Bet you thought I was gone forever.
Psych!

I have been in a funk lately. The kind of funk where nothing is inspiring to you. I haven't felt like cooking, or writing, or photographing at all for the past few weeks. It's been a very, very bad funk.

My days have consisted of toast...which I honestly ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner one day. Though in my defense I didn't just put Earth Balance on each slice- I did a little mashed avocado and sliced tomatoes as well. Peanut butter and banana slices are pretty great too. And work. And being upset that my car window broke. And watching a lot of pointless TV. And I think I've done ten loads of laundry in the past two days.

It's time to pull out of this funk.

I forced myself to look at cooking blogs this morning, because if I'm not constantly surrounding myself with food and people who pull out my passion for it, I do stupid things. Like make a lot of toast.

Oh boy. Let me tell you how happy I was to discover this recipe for Cold Avocado Soup via Joy the Baker.

Have we discussed my love for avocados? I think we should, because it is rich. Intense. Powerful. LOVE. Basically, if it were healthy to eat a whole avocado at every meal, I totally would. I find ways to use them in everything. Tofu scrambles, smoothies, stir fry, vegan sorbets. Yes, you read that right. Sorbets.

So what I'm saying is, I think this Cold Avocado Soup might be the thing to pull me out of my funk. And if that doesn't do the trick, this Vegan Chocolate Avocado Cake might.

Tonight

"I'm going on a date tonight
To try to fall out of love with you
I know, I know this is a crime
But I don't know what else to do"

Camera Obscura "The Sweetest Thing"

My Weekend According to my iPhone

This past weekend I took a road trip with my family to the small town of Phillipsburg.

We...

ate at an old fashioned soda shop and diner.

stoked up on cady at The Sweet Palace.

and browsed countless antique shops.

(more pics to come!)

Sometimes, when I have a bad day I think to myself, "New York would fix this."

Because, somehow, no matter how big and scary the world is, New York makes me happy. Just the simple though of the city, just sitting here writing about it makes me feel like everything is ok.

It's funny isn't it? Thinking about how a place can heal you. It makes me believe that city may be magical. If only Disney had set a fairy tale there. (And I don't mean "Enchanted" - I'm talking the old animated ones.)

But I couldn't be in New York today. So, here I am at my favorite coffee house. My baristas make my usual right when I walk in the door and never charge full price. I take my soy latte and a book, tuck myself away in a corner, and escape.

If I can't be in New York, it's a pretty good second.

My Exact Thoughts

"I wanted to do something with food, I said. That was what I kept coming back to, after everything else. At the end of the day, when I was exhausted and fed up and unsure of everything, food was a certainty. It was what I thought about, what I cared about, what I wrote about, what got me out of bed in the morning. (I mean that, I get up for the sole purpose of eating breakfast. I don't know why else you would.) It was so obvious, so utterly terrifying."-Molly Wizenburg, A Homemad Life, p. 166

Makeover Time!

Tea & Audrey will be undergoing a makeover within the next few weeks.

Please stick with me, as it may look a little messy at times.

I promise it'll be worth it in the end.

:)

Date a Girl Who Reads

 I first found this little gem via the always lovely Meg and I couldn't resist not passing it along.

It makes me giddy.

It makes me want to cry.

Tears of happiness and sorrow.

It makes me smile and laugh.

And it even makes me feel a little bittersweet.

Simply put, it could be writen about me.

Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico

 Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

 My favorite part?

"If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are."

I'm in love with that...I understand it more that I understand anything else.

I won't buy a purse if I can't fit a book in it.

And yeah, I'm that weird chick sniffing old books in public places.

My favorite part of any day, what I always do when I have down time, is grab coffee and find a corner to crack open that book in my purse.

Or my journal.

And I escape.

I escape into a world where yes, of course the characters matter.

Often times, I want to be the heroine.

Of course, I want the characters to be real.

I want to be Elizabeth Bennet. Or Ali Hamilton. Or Eowyn.

I want to experience the climax.

Don't we all?

Happy Friday

{image by Mandy Clyatt.  copyright 2010. all rights reserved}

Wishing everyone a lovely Independence Day Weekend!

Be back Tuesday.

:)



Feeding My Soul

Ever have those moments where you realize you have been going nonstop and desperately need to recharge? I think I need those moments more than most. Perhaps it's because I'm much more introverted than extroverted. Either way, I need to recharge. I need to take time to simply feed my soul.

Don't you just love the sound of that? What a beautiful concept. Feeding your soul. Doing something that is strictly for you and you alone. Something you love, but rarely do with others because they either don't care to do it...or for that matter just don't care for it the way you do. And sometimes, you have to throw yourself into that thing and let yourself go. Alone.

Take the time to think. Relax. Fall in. Enjoy.

Sometimes it means taking a solo road trip. Be in the car alone. Alone with your thoughts. You can play the mellow stuff and get lost in its beauty. Or crank the classic rock and sing at the top of your lungs. Let the you mood and the music guide you.

Sometimes it means baking chocolate chip cookies. It's the feeling of the whisk in your hand as you blend the baking powder and soda in with the flour and salt. It's the sound of the mixer beating together the brown sugar, soy milk, and flaxseed. It's the whiff of vanilla extract mixed with the chocolate chips. The whole house filling up with the smell as they bake in the oven. That delicious taste as hot, gooey chocolate melts in your mouth. That moment where you have to believe the world isn't too scary. Nothing is too scary in a wold where cookies exist.

Sometimes it means watching movies or reading stories that give you hope. Stories you relate to or dream about. Pride & Prejudice. A Homemade Life. Elizabethtown. 500 Days of Summer. Away We Go. Sabrina. Gilmore Girls. Whatever inspires you and makes you believe you can create the life you find so beautiful in these tales.

Sometimes it means reading through cookbooks. Grabbing a big mug of earl grey and a pack of post-its. Flipping through page after page, marking which recipes you can't wait to try. I could honestly do this for hours. In fact, I often do.

Sometimes it means grabbing a tripple soy latte, throwing some Norah Jones on your iPod, and journaling away. This alone recharges me more than anything else. Just getting lost in my thoughts. Dreaming. Scheaming.

Sometimes it means looking up my favorite Manhattan photographers, looking through their work just to have a good cry over how much I miss that city. This may not sound much like feeding my soul, but believe me it does. Because if I didn't take time to miss the city, I would forget about it. And if I forgot about it, I would forget about my dreams. If I forgot about my dreams, I would lose myself.

Feeding your soul can mean anything. Just don't forget to do it. Don't get so bogged down with social activities and work that you don't take time to just be. Take a road trip, bake cookies, journal, photograph, dance, do some yoga. Hell, go skydiving. Do whatever reminds you you're alive. Feed you soul.

Forget Me Not, My Dear, My Darlin'

This past weekend was beyond exciting for me. I made a trip over to Spokane to see The Civil Wars perform at The A Club.

One half of The Civil Wars, Joy Williams, had a solo career long before the duo existed. As a result of following her career, I have been a Civil Wars fan since they first released a demo version of "Dance Me to the End of Love" over two years ago. I bought their first EP and waited with great anticipation for their first full length album to be released.

Seeing a tour date so close to home astonished me and I absolutely had to buy a ticket! As excited as I was for the show, they completely blew me away. I have never seen two people so perfectly linked in musical collaboration as Joy Williams and John Paul White. If they're coming near you, do yourself a favor and buy a ticket to the show!

Opening act Rayland Baxter was incredible! He was insanely sweet and signed a copy of his EP for me :)

The Civil Wars were kind enough to hang out around the venue after the show and take pictures with us adoring fans!

Snapshots From My Kitchen

Here's a look at what's been going on with The Skinny Bitch Project lately- delicious, yes?

Tomato and Tofu Stew

 Kale with Peanut Butter Dressing

Minty Cantaloupe Surprise

Someday

Someday I will have a home with interior brick walls.

Someday I will have hardwood floors.

And beat up wood tables.

And tea cups. I've decided I'd like a tea cup collection. Old. chipped. stained. beautiful.

Someday I will have a chalkboard wall.

And in this room in my head I will have big, overstuffed chairs.

Chairs to curl up in and read.

Read the classics. Jane Austen. Dickens. Henry James.

Someday.



"It is greater than the stars- that moving procession of human energy; greater than the palpitating earth and the things growing theron."

-Kate Chopin