pre-Thanksgiving reflections

I cannot BELIEVE tomorrow is Thanksgiving. As always, this year has flown by. I remember last Thanksgiving like it was yesterday. Probably because I spent 14 hours on a Greyhound. (But who's counting?) I spent the holiday in Boston and had a tremendous time packing as many family festivities as possible into 4 glorious days.

This year will be a little different. I'm not ashamed to admit that I couldn't afford the trip this year. I'd have loved to join my Massachusetts-based family, and will miss them dearly. It was a tradition I'd hoped to keep, traveling up there every year. I hope to make it up next year. I will miss adventures like enjoying dim sum in Chinatown, exploring the coast in Rockport, making Boeuf Bourguignon together (my first time!) and the trek to the holiday feast at family friends Bruce and Bill's place in Concord.

Anyway, tonight as I was reflecting on Thanksgivings past I realized that I never published any photos from that trip. I never blogged about that trip. This time last year I was newly consumed with someone I'd met which unfortunately developed into nothing, and spent most of my time texting him and waiting all Thanksgiving weekend to not hear one word back. I was deflated. This Thanksgiving is far different. I am learning at 31 to let go when the interest is not reciprocated. It has been a hard and humbling lesson. I am also trying to learn about not pursuing people. Just imagine how many blog posts I'd have written this year if I'd been less focused on the man I spent the entire year pining after. Lastly I am learning that it is ok to be too much. A dear friend was giving me advice this year when I asked her if she thought I was being overwhelming in what I thought and hoped would become my new relationship. She said I wasn't overwhelming at all, and that, in fact, I wasn't involved enough! I said "I'm too much. I know I'm just too much." Without a beat she said, "Be too much." It was advice that I did follow, because life is about being genuine. It's about authenticity, and being who you are. On this blog I hope to come across as honest and candid, but also authentic. That's what this blog's purpose really is. Anyway, I was exactly who I am this year. I was too much. I have a big, emotional, transparent personality. What you see is what you get. And I am proud of myself for not dumbing myself down to be anyone else.

Now I am hoping that I can be generous in the letting go. Live and let live. It is hard though, right? Hard not to feel maimed when things don't turn out the way you thought they would. The way you prayed they would. When you meet someone and they'd be a perfect fit, and were a perfect fit, and then the whole thing just backfires. I'm really not mad at him. Just thoroughly confused with myself for following my heart and it leading to nowhere. I trusted myself and my gut feeling...Not his fault! My intentions were pure. I think his were too. He's a beautiful man, and someone whom I still deeply respect and look up to. But nothing ever came of it. I don't know. I don't know why this keeps happening to me. The whole wearing your heart on your sleeve thing is draining. And a bit embarrassing. But you live you learn, and this Thanksgiving I am going to focus on the people in my life who are excited to be there. I think that's the big lesson of 2014: looking at what's (and who's) right in front of you and being grateful for what and who you have. I "have" so many people. Any girl would kill to have the loyal family I have, crazy as we drive each other. There's nothing like my family and I can't wait to fight with them over Thanksgiving turkey tomorrow. ;)

Here are some pics from last year's festivities up Boston way...


Don't let the shining sun fool you in this pic. It was freaking freezing in Boston. That is one thing I won't miss. I had to buy this here hat, about 5 min before taking this pic, because my ears were ruddy and nasty red and also felt like they'd succumbed to frostbite. I couldn't feel them. So yeah. Virginia will be slightly warmer.

This was a beautiful drive. The path from Boston out to Concord... I love fall in New England and beautiful winding roads like this one. What a drive.

As soon as I got to our benevolent hosts' home and saw this pie I knew I'd made the right choice for Thanksgiving plans. OMG-Blackberry pie. Step ASIDE, pumpkin! Blackberry pie is my favorite in the world and this one was perfection. I will have to get my aunt's recipe. (Update: I spoke to my aunt on the phone just now and she said it was actually called Razzleberry pie.)

Appetizers and small plates are my favorite part of any get-together, and our hosts were incredible in this department. The appetizers were the star of the show until the turkey appeared, and our one host was constantly filling our champagne flutes with bubbly while the other basted and rocked out on the turkey. My favorite part of this was the cheese tray, with cheeses from a local shop...

Julia Child's turkey. Amazing. Having once (and for the last time) hosted my own Thanksgiving feast, albeit nothing like this, for my ex and his family friend, I can say that hosting Thanksgiving is hella hard. My turkey didn't even fit in my city basement apartment and we had to use our upstairs landlord's instead. We? Ha! I cooked the entire Thanksgiving dinner that year while the boys drank beer and watched football and I can definitely say, it was the most exhausting thing I've ever done. And I cooked about a quarter of what these two did. That being said, I will never, EVER let a Thanksgiving go by without complimenting the chef (and no, not by belching...I'll throw you out) and without offering to help clean up. But this turkey. THIS TURKEY. It was amazing in every way, and it reminds me to pick up Julia's recipe for tomorrow. Although my dad is technically in charge of the turkey this year, I'll try to get my hands in there too.

This was the carrot soup that my aunt brought over from South Hamilton. It was a delicious pre-cursor to Thanksgiving dinner, and a tradition I hope to uphold in future Thanksgiving feasts!

I love dinner parties featuring all different sizes and shapes of beautiful glassware, and this table had them all. I love the look of champagne flutes next to different kinds of wine glasses. Gorgeous display.

This was the bottle of red our hosts provided and it was lovely. I drank so much of it. I very well could have been responsible for downing the whole thing. I was into it. Just as I was trying to remember the name of it and write it into my notebook, Bill brought over the bottle. I held it up to take a picture and am so glad I did. I'd forgotten about the bottle since, which is why I need to blog things when they happen instead of incessantly texting gorgeous, if unavailable, men! ;) #imnotbitter #wineovermen #okalittlebitter #buthewascharming

And finally, a shot of my Thanksgiving plate. I have it so good and am so grateful. I will focus on the blessings of food, family and good friends tomorrow and for Thanksgivings to come. #gratitude

everybody needs cake on their birthday

I learned this lesson the hard way on August 11, when I let my own birthday go by without cake. I know, I know...what was I thinking? I was thinking of not celebrating my birthday this year, that's what. (I was also thinking of permanently going gluten, sugar and dairy free. Hahahahahahahahaha.) But that didn't go over so well.


Three months later I find myself on my mom's birthday in the kitchen making a cake. I am embarrassed to say it's a box mix cake. I've never lowered myself to this point, but I'm broke and didn't have the money to buy tons of frou frou ingredients (heavy cream, German chocolate, buttermilk, DARK RUM. What broke ass can afford a bottle of rum, like for cooking?!?!) to bake the cake I want to be making: David Lebovitz's extremely decadent-sounding German Chocolate Cake. I'm going to make that later in the week, after I get paid. Unfortunately such is life when you major in English and are tethered to Sallie effing Mae and THEN get chronically ill in your twenties. Best laid plans and savings aside, for the time being I am a paycheck to paycheck girl. And tonight, heavy cream is a laughable luxury. (But it won't be Friday night.)

Soooooooo. Box cake. It's really not that bad. I mean the cake is still in the oven, but it poured into the cake pan very well. Very much like homemade cake, in fact. Small miracles.

And there's the taste test factor, wherein I shove an entire spatula into my gaping mouth. Truthfully that is the reason I made a cake. Nothing to do with my mom's birth. (But mom, thank you for being born.)

25 minutes later, cake is now out of oven and smells like a bakery in here.

Now to Google some recipes for icing.... come back for an update later.

**********FOUR HOURS LATER **********

Ok so the icing didn't go off without a hitch...I am the WORST when it comes to icing. If you think I am bad at making cake--and I am... this one totally fell apart despite coating the cake stone with spray oil beforehand-- just wait until you try (or don't try, as the case may be) my icing.

I once made a chocolate cake for someone's birthday party and my cake fell apart so badly that I had to "ice" it back together...a tip from my pastry chef friend. Except when she texted "ice it" I thought she meant like actually take ice cubes out of the freezer and sort of finagle the cake back. Welp, there is a reason I am not a chef. Aaaaaand there is a reason I so related to the Amelia Bedelia books when I was a child. Still do, in fact.

So the icing recipe my mom sent me via Pinterest tonight tasted too sweet for me, and kinda mapley, despite not having a single drop of maple syrup. No idea where that flavor came from. But it DID turn out looking just like the picture. And for me that is a huge win. Because my icing never looks like the picture. The trick this time was to wait for the brown sugar, butter and evaporated milk mixture that I cooked down on the stove to cool completely. And then use the KitchenAid to mix in the vanilla and confectioner's sugar.

I know these sentences are not making much grammatical sense but it's way after midnight and I need to get to bed. This blogging every day until the new year bit is HARD.

Here are some icing pics, and one of the final product! I haven't actually tried the cake with icing yet because I'm trying not to eat after 10:00 pm. I'm also trying not to go to bed after midnight, but will have to try again tomorrow. Either way, thank you, mom, for being born and I love you. I love you so much that I made you cake. I hate making cake. From a box or otherwise. On your birthday. That's love.

The Gift of Philly-Style Italian Hoagies

A generous cast mate and her husband were gracious enough to host our cast party last Sunday. Right after set strike the majority of our eight-person cast and guests were welcomed into their home just outside of Gordonsville, about a 20-minute jaunt from the theater. Stephanie is a Philadelphia-born and raised Italian-American and the part of the night I most looked forward to was her "mean giant hoagie."

It did not disappoint. The selection of meats were fresh, the lettuce crisp, the bread firm and crunchy on the outside yet soft and perfect inside, and there was not one sign of mayo. Just before each rehearsal one of my aspirations was to find out as much as I could about an authentic Philly cheese steak from impassioned Steph, but I had no idea how good their Italian hoagies are. Hearing the history of how a hoagie came to be (involving workers from Hog Island on their sandwich breaks) also captured my attention. I myself a Pennsylvania gal, I never knew this important tidbit on what surely is our state sandwich. How privileged we all were to experience an authentic Philly-style Italian hoagie from a Philadelphia native herself.

Since Sunday night I have not been able to think of much else. This hoagie was giant indeed, cut into generous portions. I was polite of course and just had one hoagie after filling up on scrumptious bruschetta (I have a weakness for tomatoes and crostini) and red wine the entire evening, B-U-T the delicious, crisp hoagie taste never quite went away. I savored every oily and vinegary morsel. And could have eaten about ten. Gluttony for the win.

Today I found myself a bit, and this is going to sound dramatic, but...bereft... after temporarily deactivating my Facebook at work yesterday. It was a rather abrupt decision, as per usual. I'd recently made one too many lifestyle comparisons and realized that I needed a social media respite. I looooooove Facebook. Too much. I love reading my eclectic newsfeed and catching up with old friends and keeping abreast of all the moon forecasts and hippie writing and horoscopes and especially food stuffs. But another couple babies emerged and I'm having trouble with that. Don't get me wrong...I'm thrilled for the parents. Babies are like crack to me and EVERYONE AND THEIR MOM IS HAVING THEM. I adore kids and jump up and want to rush over to them and give them hugs and candy when they come into my workplace but that's suuuuper creepy and anyway it's clearly not my time.

I had set the intention to work with kids at a Montessori-style type of school in August but then did not get accepted for the Reggio-Emilia position I'd interviewed for. It might have been an omen that I got a speeding ticket on my way to the interview. Not a good sign. In the end it was not a good fit for me in any way but I was disappointed I did not get it because it felt like another rejection to add to the pile. I know, martyr martyr. I had really wanted to work with babies, but the way the center is run is totally comical and all I could think about was all of the humor essays I could write if I worked there. PROBably not the girl for those babies. Realistically speaking, so much has to happen before kids enter my universe. At the moment my big project is trying, unsuccessfully thus far, to remove some stubborn fleas from my poodle. If that gives you any big picture of my world...

Soooooo deactivating felt like the right decision. Plus I need to focus on some sort of realistic career. Ideally one involving my English major. Despite how out of sorts I feel in the modern American workplace. Fish out of water...

Once the play wrapped I felt glum, looking for the next production to jump into, thinking acting was going to be a part of my life again. But I hardly wrote during the course of the play, and as much as I love acting, when I'm not writing I'm miserable. The applause was addicting and I felt such a rush before and after each performance but there is no feeling that comes close to just having written. It's a necessary purge. One that I haven't felt in at least 2 months. So I deactivated Facebook to develop my writing a bit more. Here's hoping it helps!

With the absence of my greatest social media addiction, all I could think about was what I would be eating and by extension, blogging about, during the month of November. I can't believe this year is almost over and, as is the case with me, I've hardly blogged at all. I'd like to post every day until Jan 1, (when I go back on the good book) but I always say stuff like that and then never get around to it. I think about ideas incessantly but usually my expectations are too high and the whole "comparison is the thief of joy" quote dances through my mind as I'm reading food blogs and eating spoonfuls of Nutella without committing to working on my own. There are so many impressive blogs out there. Sometimes I feel like I don't have anything original to add to the force. But there is something satisfying about having blogged. Even if I'm the only one reading, I like blogging because it's a way for me to keep a record of my days. Oh to be disciplined and inspired enough to blog every single day... Maybe a New Year's resolution for 2015.

This is getting way too long, so I'll say what I wanted to say in the first place. About 6 paragraphs before now. This weekend couldn't end without another Philly style Italian hoagie. So I Googled a bit this morning and found this recipe.

The original recipe sounds tasty but I tweaked it some. I hate boiled ham so standing at the deli peering into the meat case my dad suggested to use tavern ham instead. Genius. Despite telling us to not use pickles at all, I did. I didn't use mayo except by request, and liberally doused each prepared hoagie with an extra virgin olive oil and red wine vinegar dressing. I made these hoagies for my family of 5 so I doubled the recipe. Spent almost $25 in cold cuts but it was worth it. I told my dad, who is very generous, that if he donated the cash I'd make dinner and then told him my ideas and you've never seen someone drive to a deli so energetically. He even called the local Harris Teeter to see how late the deli was open. Freshness matters. Now that I've made the hoagies I realize it will be part of the repertoire. It's quick and easy for one or two people but also satisfies a ravenous family. When ordering make sure to sample each piece of deli meat and cheese. Best part.

Without further ado: my version:


Classic Italian Hoagie

Yields 5
Ingredients:

5 (12 inch) Italian-style rolls
1/2 pound thinly sliced tavern ham
3 oz Boar's Head thinly sliced capocollo (this was pre-packaged bc my deli doesn't have it another way)
1/2 pound thinly sliced provolone cheese
1/2 pound thinly sliced Genoa salami
4 cups shredded Romaine lettuce
1 thinly sliced large tomato
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
8 teaspoons red wine vinegar, divided
Salt, pepper, Italian seasoning
Kosher dill slices

Directions:

Slice roll horizontally, being careful not to slice all the way through.

There are hilarious comments on the website about this. You should go read them. Man people take this seriously. Eat it like a taco!

Open up the roll and layer on ham, capocollo, provolone cheese and Genoa salami (about 3 slices each).

Be sure to drink some scrumptious, sweet hard apple cider from France if you at all have the opportunity. If you don't have the opportunity, make one! The hoagie will taste better. Trust.

After some cider goes coursing through your veins, you are ready to pile on the meat.

Top with lettuce, tomato slices and pickle, make a dressing of the red wine vinegar and olive oil and douse, sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste and Italian seasoning.

Devour. It doesn't take long. And yes, one is plenty.

Roasted Cauliflower Comfort

The short version, because I want this to be more about roasted cauliflower than theater: I was recently in a play. It just ended. It was a wonderful and yet emotionally draining experience which I miss now that it's over. Go figure. I thought I wanted to do another play, so I auditioned for one but did not get a callback. I was not very bummed about that, and felt guilty about not feeling more disappointed than I thought I would.

The play wrapped Sunday, I auditioned Monday, and voted Tuesday. Again with the short version, because I want this to be more about roasted cauliflower than politics. Tuesday night's GOP takeover of the Senate floored me. I was sick sick sick over it. Trust me you prefer the short version of THAT.

Wednesday I was a bitch to everyone at home and at work and in my overall daily life. I think I snapped at my dog. It was a bad day. Thursday I decided on a good mood and it seemed to carry through to evening, wherein I opened up the fridge and realized I'd bought cauliflower.

Like weeks before. So I roasted some. The process was healing and cathartic for some reason. Usually cauliflower doesn't have this effect on me, but last night it was divine. Like, it actually might have connected me back with Spirit.

It was the first night in about 2 months (since before the play started) where I did not rush home from work, frantically walk my dog, grab a water bottle and a banana and trek 42 minutes out to the theater, usually whipping through a drive-thru if I was desperate. I'd eat at 10:30 pm every night before crashing. Like I said, acting was wonderful. Everything else...kinda draining.

Last night I came back to the kitchen and back to myself a bit more.

This recipe is simple. It's not even a recipe, per se, just a method. Take a head of cauliflower and wash it well. Cut off the bad parts, which mine had a lot of. Don't let your cauliflower sit for 2 weeks. That's vegetable abuse.

Remove stalky part. I don't know what it's called. The stem? Anyway, the thing at the bottom the head grows from. Remove that. Cut cauliflower into bite-size florets. I keep the hard white part, too. When roasted it softens nicely. And I'm no nutritionist but it's probably packed with nutrients. Parts like that usually are.

Take florets and toss into a bowl (I use stainless steel) with olive oil (eyeball it), sea salt and black pepper. There are all kinds of spice variations online but I like to be a purist when I'm first roasting. Next time I may go with garlic and thyme like one recipe called for. MAYBE. To add some excitement to my life.

Toss until the olive oil coats the cauliflower nicely. Munch on a piece. Sigh contentedly.

Throw all of those suckers onto a sheet pan. I use my mom's huge and clunky lipped stone. That is probably called something much fancier in the Pampered Chef catalog. I'm no Martha Stewart and don't use correct terms.

450 for 20-25 minutes or so. To be honest I started it at 400 and the heat just wasn't kicked up enough. Kick that up a notch like Emeril and voila!

Roasted Cauliflower Comfort. I love the buttery, nutty taste that seems to emerge though I used neither butter nor nuts. You can eat the entire head of florets yourself OR you can share. But not gonna lie, that part is kinda hard.

Before:

During: By all means, feel free to polish off a bottle of red while waiting for cauliflower to roast up. As one does.

AFTER. Nomnomnomnomnommmmmmm.