One Hungry Soul

Simplified Summer Notations

2011-10-05T20:04:00.000-07:00

When life gets busy this blog gets quiet, and while that's exactly the opposite of how I like things to go, it happens.

Somehow my camera activity quieted down this summer, too. It was a fun whirlwind, though, so I just spent some time going through my humble selection of shots from the summer to share with you.

I hope you enjoy the still images captured in often activity-filled moments. That's what I just love about photography. I can be blinking my eyes awake as I walk through the living room in the morning and see the light fall just right across a chair. It will cause me to stop and admire and crop in close before rushing into a day. It's the same thing with a dinner eaten alone on a wide white table. The prettiness of simple, seemingly mundane things.

I don't know how I'd make it through life's busyness without these mentally recorded or shutter-captured notations, and my soul gets extra hungry when I go too long without stopping for them.

In May my sister and I traveled down to Oregon to spend time with good friends, and spent time in the gorgeous wine country.

I finally made it to Honore in Ballard one Sunday morning in June. The next day I was ready to go back.

Friends and I began a book club with the book The Help, so I made my first caramel cake based on this recipe I've been wanting to try for years.

A trip to Texas happily coincided with getting to celebrate a dear friend's birthday there together. We took a well air-conditioned drive from Dallas to San Antonio and stopped at FoodHeads in Austin for a perfect birthday lunch.

July in San Antonio, Texas, was oh so hot but oh so worth it, with the priceless celebration of the marriage of two college friends.

I ended my season of working at our local artisan cheese shop, and this was the last bunch of flowers I got from the shop's neighbor and friend...a surplus bouquet from a Steven Moore wedding. I remember the secretly enjoyed pleasure of quietly walking through Fairhaven that Sunday evening with my treasures: a baguette under one arm and these with a bunch of pink peonies cradled in another.

A favorite recipe from the summer, but one that I'm not sure how to replicate: cornmeal, coconut milk, plum cake. I'll give it another shot and share the recipe if I'm happy with it.

These little legs belong to a nephew of mine. He and his not-much-bigger brother and parents visited Washington and brightened our days throughout their time here.

My little sister (and one of my best friends) turned another year older, so I made her a gluten-free crepe cake.

September brought the annual Greek festival hosted practically in our front yard, which meant four days of white tent peaks filling the view out our windows and music, gyros, and friends flowing in and out of our house.

[The photo at the top is of the front of our house with our rhododendrons in vibrant bloom.]

A Croissant and a Tourteau

2011-07-03T00:24:00.000-07:00

It started with thumbing through a cookbook at my favorite local shop. Unable to resist reaching for a binding printed with the block-letter words "New French Recipes" a luxurious but simple lunch idea was born.

Since I left Europe in December of 2005, I have been nurturing a love of its various regions. My ventures into cheesemongering and macaron-making have inevitably grown a particularly French intrigue, and so it is impossible for titles concerning this culture and its cuisine not to thoroughly entice me.

And yet, constantly aware of the ability a cookbook collection has to boom out of control, I try to be extra selective about what I purchase versus what I browse for on food blogs versus what I check out from the library. In this case, selecting and mentally tucking away one recipe within the pages of Éric Kayser's New French Recipes allowed me to peaceably put the book back on its shelf.

Not feeling rushed, I figured I would eventually get around to the recipe (if it can even be named so formally), but the next day it was convenient to stop by the local cheese shop and my grocery list started to form. I was hoping to find Comté, but the next closest option was a cave-aged Gruyère, which would do just fine. Continuing to piece together ingredients, I picked up a croissant at the bakery as well.

This is where my sights were set: a pan-grilled sandwich of melty Alpine-style cheese, crunchy bites of sweet hazelnuts, and savory nibbles of green garlic, simply seasoned with cracked pepper and assembled within a flaky butter croissant. To make it a meal, baby heirloom tomatoes waited at home to nestle along the side of the plate.

A little more grand but similar, this sandwich reminds me of the nut, cheese, and bread combination I latched onto while living in Oxford. Planning a coach trip into London or a study session at the park, I would slice cheese and lay it flat across the face of whole wheat sandwich bread. Gently pressing halved walnuts into the cheese, I would complete the sandwich with another slice of bread spread with blackcurrant jam. Sometimes I would use marmalade or a different flavor of jam, and sometimes the cheese would be Brie, sometimes Port Salut, or sometimes sharp English cheddar; it was simple and on a college student's budget, but I loved it. These sandwiches, Digestives, and ten cups of black British tea a day (plus chicken breasts from the farmer's market) were my staples that semester.

Before ending this blog post, let me revert briefly back to France. The very same day I made that grilled croissant sandwich, I received a cookbook from my brother and his wife, a cookbook I have no qualms adding to my collection.

I love curling up and reading Dorie Greenspan's voice, whether it is out of my copy of Baking, her blog, or many of her publication appearances. Now, I get to listen to her from Around My French Table, a cookbook that thoroughly won me over several months ago when first seeing it at a bookshop and flipping to this page:

This tourteau sounded so enjoyable, I am hoping to make it my first completed recipe out of the cookbook...if the strawberry, tomato, mozzarella salad or olive sables do not push their way to the top first. I will be sure to keep you posted.

Summer Palettes

2011-06-21T20:21:00.000-07:00

The sky above finally clears and assures us below that blue can indeed stretch from horizon to horizon over Western Washington. Looking at the ground when my eyes are not turned up toward this hopeful summer expanse, a gathered coat of white reminds me of another summer-time scene from the near-underside of the globe.

In New Zealand, the Pohutukawa trees inevitably shed their soft pink bristles and coat the ground around them. A year and a half ago, I paused on a well-tread sidewalk and, stepping down next to the curb, bent low to capture an essential part of the land's summer palette, seen in the photograph above.

Here is my driveway today, and the concentration of nature's shedding and settling in this particular land.

And I just have to share photographed evidence that the skies surely cleared. The sun shone fearlessly. The temperatures climbed brazenly (that's all subjective of course, considering the high was around seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit).

Eating dinner inside would have been an injustice to this gift of a day, so I tossed together a panzanella inspired by a leftover portion of Breadfarm's Black Olive Baguette and settled into the mossy grass outside my front door (picking white fluff out of my bread salad along the way).

Home

2011-06-16T09:42:00.001-07:00

An idea, a concept, an intrigue has been floating - sometimes swirling - around in my head and pinging my heart recently. I catch it in song lyrics, conversations, and turning pages.

Home has been a fluid experience in my life, while also steady and stable enough in certain senses to keep me grounded in shifts of geographical location, school environments, and community circles. I am not trying to nail down a definition of it for myself right now, but I am wanting to churn through it intentionally in my art, my interactions, and my writing.

I know right now that "inner settledness" makes a lot of sense in relation to home, and in seeking this, the ability to name a place home for as long or as short as may be the case comes more easily. And love. Love is essential here; being in a place of receiving and getting to offer overflow.

Chronicling Days Off III

2011-06-12T21:20:00.000-07:00

Days off come around every two weeks or so. I am not complaining (a couple work days are only three to five hours, anyway). When I woke up this morning confused briefly as to what day it was, it was delightful to realize my neglected alarm wasn't making me late for work or a running date.

Going into the day, it was a toe-curling pleasure to see sunshine and need car windows rolled down, riding with James Vincent McMorrow and Oh Land in my speakers; to match Pickwick with screen doors and open kitchen windows; to pair Lisa Hannigan with measuring flour under evening light; and to wear whatever colors and uncomfortable shoes I wanted because there was no decor to match or good soles needed for long periods of standing...

[Days off are for] strolling through Fairhaven in good company. Stopping for poppies along the sidewalk; sipping margaritas; acquiring a madeleine pan.

[Days off are for] finding a used copy of a cookbook I've craved for its smooth aesthetic and clean typography, the charming British voice of Nigel Slater, and recipes like pistachio cake.

[Days off are for] taking the time to walk over to the neighbor's fence and see their rose blooms through a viewfinder.

[Days off are for] spontaneously gathering together the ingredients for an old familiar from my mother's kitchen and making it my own: Sally Lunn Bread.

Travels to Seattle: A New Favorite Cookbook

2011-06-10T23:43:00.000-07:00

It has been more than a month since I went to Seattle for Heidi Swanson's book signing. The albums of photos on my computer have grown and stories and thoughts along with them. There will never be time to always share all the moments while they are fresh, and I suppose this is why we have memories to store up more than we have time to express at once. I love recalling something forgotten for a good ten years.

Before moving into the present, I want to note my appreciation of Heidi's new cookbook Super Natural Every Day. It has already received much due praise from bloggers much more reputable than me. Check out the words of Matt Bites, Smitten Kitchen, Steamy Kitchen, Lottie + Doof, and La Tartine Gourmande.

101 Cookbooks was one of the first food blogs I ever encountered. I have been returning to it for four years, drawn to the author Heidi Swanson's photography, voice, and clean organization and thoughtful arrangement of typography and details. Heidi's graphic design skills shine through here, and the same fine aesthetic has transferred into both her cookbooks, Super Natural Cooking and Super Natural Every Day.

I have recognized a natural affinity for the recipes within these pages, embracing new ingredients and combinations and drawing to old familiars like Japanese flavors, Indian spices, and grains like quinoa (a friend commented the other day about how my mother was serving quinoa at the family table long before half the Northwest knew what it was!).

The first recipe out of the new cookbook that I mentally earmarked was the Tutti-Frutti Crumble. If I do not start reading a cookbook from the dessert collection, then I struggle to put it down before flipping beyond the savory pages. I have an undeniable sweet tooth but not the frosting-laden sort, which is why I mesh so well with Heidi's palate. I grew up on half-whole-wheat claufoutis and fruit-rich crumbles for dessert, so the thought of enhancing such a simply perfect dessert as a crumble or crisp with poppy seeds, currants, and Beaujolais wine delightfully challenges the definition of perfection.

Between my fantasies of that crumble and the present, I was drawn back into the lunch and dinner pages, and I know this is a cookbook I will continue to flip through from cover to cover. (Breakfast deserves due attention, as well.) I acquired tarragon and remembered that I had seen it mentioned in the subtitle of a Wild Rice Casserole. Cremini mushrooms, mustard, and Gruyère were also components, and considering that Western Washington has kept us bundled in sweatshirts and slippers through May, it sounded like a lovely warming dish. (Oh, it was.)

And then there is the kale salad that I ate for a week straight, and even still, this pattern could have pleasantly lasted longer. Salty tamari and toasted sesame oil infuse crunchy roasted kale leaves and thick coconut flakes. Then these are tossed with whatever grain is at hand, like the big batch of cooked brown basmati rice in my fridge. It is such an easy recipe, I have enthusiastically relayed it in conversation, and I have already played around with it based on our vegetable supply. Kale is not the only hearty green that works, and a successful adaption involved thick coins of white leeks in the roasting pan along with the kale and coconut. A poached egg on top, and I could live on this meal.

On a side note, I rolled out of a friend's bed at 6:30 in the morning on Sunday to get home to Bellingham that weekend. Swinging by Cloud City Coffee on my way out of Seattle, I stocked up with an Americano and treat for the drive. That treat was a slice of Coconut Bread, and - oh wow - it was sublime. I would love to find a good recipe for such a loaf. Do you have any recipes to share?

Staying Awake: Blogger Links

2011-05-07T00:03:00.000-07:00

Some nights I can't seem to go to bed late enough. Against my better judgment, I start a movie at ten o'clock, or I get home from work around eleven and distract my sister from homework by asking her about her day or venting about my own.

On Friday night, I finished closing the shop and arrived home at 11:15 to find myself wide awake and wanting to savor the quiet darkness of our home. I wanted to sip bitter hot chocolate, let my new love of James Vincent McMorrow's music grow, and browse through some of my favorite food blogs unhurried, reading posts word-for-word.

Reading blogs always turns me back to my own because I admire the giftings of so many food (and otherwise) bloggers out there. They add beauty and richness to this world, and inspire me to humbly attempt to do the same.

In this brief time of meandering here's what I found that may be enjoyable to you as well:

Almond extract and almond paste. My attention always hones in on recipes involving these components, and Molly recently posted a promising looking cake including both. Oh, and do try to sit still and absorb the words of her narrative preceding the recipe. Her voice is just lovely, always.

India and summertime. Heidi has adapted a wonderfully fresh, light yet full-flavored salad from Sanjeev Kapoor's How to Cook Indian, and it looks like something I could happily live on through the course of the coming summer. Speaking of summer, the first sunny days of May are very appropriate times to pull out the Pimms, don't you think? I must seek some out.

Further link love. Luisa, The Wednesday Chef, shares some favorite links each Friday, and I am especially grateful she shared a link to Kumquat Earl Grey Marmalade. I have not canned before, and I have only ever had kumquats picked off the trees on my college campus several years ago, but I adore both marmalade and earl grey. (Perhaps I'll modify with the overflowing bowl of blood oranges in my kitchen.)

Design delicious. It's not just the recipes, the writer's voice, or their photographs that draw me to food blogs. These components all need attention, but clean white space and good typography make the experience of visiting the blog (almost) as good as venturing into the kitchen with a recipe itself. Lottie + Doof does this for me as does Sprouted Kitchen. Heaps of white space and the approachable use of "+" are so very attractive.

As soon as I get photos transferred from my camera to computer, I'll share the events of the previous weekend, which involved ooohing and aaawing at Lara Ferroni's gorgeous studio space and getting a personal note from the talented Heidi Swanson herself in my new cookbook.

Meanwhile, I will leave you with a crumpet that I made last week. It was my first attempt, and while it took going through a whole batch to feel like I hit on success in this last one, the effort was worthwhile. Because of it, a family awoke at 3:30 in the morning to watch the royal wedding, sharing in their twelve-year-old daughter's enthusiasm, and toasting up fresh crumpets that dripped with honey and smeared butter. Even though I don't have a personal affection for William and Kate, I still find this form of family-bonding to be a lovely idea.

Whether or not a prince is getting married, I think we should all make crumpets more often. Here's a worthwhile recipe, though I would recommend flipping the crumpets for a final light browning on their tops.

Nourishment All Along

2011-04-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

Life begins to whir like the paddle in the giant mixer that folds and whips cake batter before me week to week. At work I can flick off the switch and silence comes just as I command it. In the day-to-day, sometimes I have to adjust my steps to a point well beyond a mixture of flour, eggs, sugar, buttermilk, cocoa, etc. would survive and remind myself that deep slow breaths counteracting quick feet actually builds endurance.

Then it amazes me how many different ways I attempt to fill my lungs until I finally settle in on what always works: sleep, sweat, nature's air, true words. But I try some Netflix pick again; I stay up late scanning Facebook; I cook or bake and create more dirty dishes instead of reading and responding to stilling words...and my stomach wasn't even hungry. It has been my disquiet heart that's been asking for nourishment all along.

When windows of time are few and my will is weak, reaching for my camera and focusing on little frames in life helps me get to that soul-satisfaction that is so far beyond the tangible. I get just a little closer to the source. My heart recognizes beauty and knows gratitude.

So I do not have a recipe for you today because life hasn't allowed for that organization recently, unfortunately. I can point you in this direction for a new and memorable chocolate chip cookie recipe, and in that direction for warming braised cabbage that pairs perfectly with a slice of bread smeared with chevre and hosting a gently poached egg. But this post is not ultimately about gastronomy.

It is about a cup that overflows. It is about being forced to stop and just receive for an entire day because I have a boss who believes birthdays should be celebrated and birthday girls should not have to whir up another batch of cake or steam milk for another latte when "Happy Birthday!" declarations are called for. There's something to this, even though I consider such pure reception a true exercise. It doesn't come naturally. I feel like it's greedy and childish to ask for the attention. I fear that some degree is out of obligation and not desire.

Birthday breakfast.

This is what I anticipate and build-up within as the marked day approaches, but my eyes always widen in wonder even in the first few moments of the day. My spirit feels like it could burst by the time my body slips back beneath sheets. Thank you to all who made my birthday feel so rich. Thank you so much to those who have built into these years to make it impossible to begrudge living to a twenty-fifth year. In all humility, I love my life story.

Snow on birthday morning!

As you can see, I have some extra flowers in my house this week and I do consider freshly cut flowers and words of affection to be the most wonderful gifts. Simplicity frequently encapsulates the most.

A birthday "cake" from mom.

These glimpses are what I want to take the time to share today. In the coming days, it is definitely reasonable to expect some great recipes out of cookbooks newly in my possession.

Feasting on Art Recipe Contest

2011-03-20T22:05:00.000-07:00

I do love a good challenge, especially one that involves ingredient pairings. When Feasting on Art announced that her second annual recipe contest would revolve around one of my favorite gastronomic subjects, cheese, I could not easily pass it up. Though, I have done an excellent job procrastinating on completing the project, as the deadline is close.

Floris Gerritsz van Schooten, A Still Life of Cheese, c.1585
oil on oak panel, 39.3 x 55.2 cm, Private collection

As much as I wish to be more balanced in my ease in both cooking and baking, baking tends to be my go-to, so instantly that was the direction my brain started spinning. I latched onto the idea of preserving the delicious flavors of spicy, salty blue cheese paired with sweet fruit and rich honey. It took me awhile to land securely on the form this took, as I know it has been done before in varying ways, and when including cheese in dessert-type recipes, there is a balance between intrigue and weirdness. I wanted to avoid the impression of the latter.

Hence, I hope you enjoy this creation. It was inspired by the easy jam tart recipe Smitten Kitchen provided on her blog about a year ago, which she adapted from David Lebovitz's wonderful cookbook Ready for Dessert. I modified the crust by deepening its flavors with buckwheat and honey and added a thin layer of blue cheese before laying down the jam. To finish, a honeyed marmalade glaze subtly balanced the flavors and added a nice sheen to the aesthetic.

I had fun adjusting the purposes in my photography for documenting this tart as well. In honor of the still life by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten that inspired this contest, I wanted to present it in a still life form as if I was setting out to render it with paint myself. Originally my intention was to carry on and do just that, but the afternoon didn't allow for it, and I am about to head into a busy week in which I really shouldn't leave cheese, sliced pear, and this tart (all of which I would like to eat) out in the open air indefinitely. I often wonder how the many still life artists from earlier centuries managed this, regarding food subjects. How long did it take them to finish their paintings? Did van Schooten's enormous chunks of cheese become too moldy? How much food was sacrificed in these endeavors as layers of oil paint dried, similar light was sought each day, and details were meticulously rendered?

Fig Jam and Blue Cheese Tart with Honey Buckwheat Crust

In selecting the cheese to use, I went with Bleu d'Auvergne because it has a creamy richness that is appropriate to dessert but also a relatively assertive spice that would help it hold its own among the other flavors. Any blue that balances these elements will do. I also had the advantage of using a wire cutter to slice the cheese thin, as I work at our local cheese shop. Do your best to get the cheese as thinly sliced as is reasonable with whatever tools you have on hand.

I chose to use a fig jam here because I had a fabulous one on hand. Its rustic texture and honey-like sweetness worked well, but you can certainly be flexible in the flavor you choose.

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup buckwheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, whole
1 large egg yolk
3 Tablespoons honey, divided
1/3 pound blue cheese (see above)
1 1/2 cups jam (see above)
1/2 cup orange marmalade

Prepare a 9-inch (23 cm) tart pan with a removable bottom by thoroughly buttering it.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, buckwheat, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, mix the butter and sugar until smooth. On low speed, add the egg, the yolk, and 1 tablespoon of honey. Beat until all is combined, and then gradually add the dry flour mixture. When the entire dough begins to look wet and come together, remove the bowl and stir with a spatula for a few last turns to bring it together into a large ball.

Placing a large square of plastic wrap on the counter, transfer a third of the dough onto it and shape into a a log by folding the plastic around it and squeezing it long. It should measure about two inches (5 cm) in diameter. Place in freezer to harden until needed for the top of the tart.

Transfer the rest of the dough into the buttered tart pan and press it evenly around the pan. Using your fingers, spread the dough up the sides to the scalloped rim, bringing it level. When this is completed, refrigerate or freeze the dough until firm (I froze it for thirty minutes, and then it was ready to go).

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Lay a single layer of blue cheese down against the bottom crust of the tart. Spoon the jam over this and spread evenly.

Retrieve the log of dough from the freezer and cut it into very thin rounds. Layer each round on top of the jam, arranging to overlap each other and cover the top completely. Bake until the top crust is golden brown, 20-25 minutes.

As the tart is cooling, heat the marmalade and remaining 2 tablespoons of honey in a small saucepan on medium heat. Stir frequently, until it smooths and thins out. Pour through a fine sieve, separating the orange rinds from the hot liquid. Discard rinds and brush the top of the tart with this glaze.

Savor and enjoy! The tart will keep well at room temperature for a few days and still taste good if kept longer in the refrigerator. Perfect for breakfast, afternoon tea, or dessert.

Chronicling Days Off II

2011-03-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

The sun has been generous to show its face in Bellingham the last few days.

Though it will be nice to finally have curtains on all my windows soon, I might just get in the habit of pulling one back right before slipping into bed so that I don't lose these opportunities for slow soft awakenings by morning light. An old fence, dirty white, and barren branches of plum trees fill my view. I know whether it is windy by the sway of the tall pines beyond. A damp grey blanket, puffy white clouds, or clear blue offer hints as to what I will encounter as I habitually move through quiet living room, step across cold kitchen floor, and fill my water glass at the sink beneath a window that faces the fresh day's sun.

This little house embraces outside light in such a rich sweet way that ten months into dwelling here, I still revel in it...

[Days off are for] admiring new curtains hanging over closet space.

[Days off are for] sipping another brand of ginger ale/beer and hoping I'll taste a bit of New Zealand.

(I have yet to find one that matches up, though Delancey's house recipe is the closest.)

[Days off are for] making wheaten tea biscuits to replenish my depleted supply of Digestives.

Memories [Old and New]

2011-03-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

Life has circled back around, and it is March. I am stirring two separate bowls of thick batter, one of which is creamy white and the other bright green and bitter. Tulip bouquets are now available outside the co-op, and I have a pitcher-full in the living room. Four years ago so many things were different, but two things are the same: I am in the kitchen making Matcha and White Chocolate Cake; there are tulips in reach, and I swear they are lifting their chins for the nearest camera lens.

I have made this marbled cake to share before, and upon request I am layering a bit of green and a bit of white and swirling a fork throughout. A certain friend is coming to town, and if she asked, I would make her five batches of puff pastry, a Bûche de Noël (with meringue mushrooms, even), or Boeuf Bourguignon - she's that sort of friend. But all she wants is Matcha and White Chocolate Cake.

I delivered a slice of this cake on a plain napkin to her journalism department when we were students focusing on papers, dreaming of more sleep, and scheming up future plans. The latter hasn't ceased, and it never should. But now we gather and savor this precious opportunity for catch-up as we talk about our day-to-day professions, friends who are married or soon will be, and what life looks like in opposite areas of the country.

Three of us gather, the third being an integral part of this reunion, and completing a trio of girls getting a trio of days to laugh, to draw serious, and to savor the pre-spring feel all about Puget Sound.

We scoot close on beached logs lining a pebbled shore. We brave wind and persevere despite chilled fingers to nibble wheat berries mixed into a salad of greens, sweet potatoes, and walnuts, with an orange-shallot vinaigrette.

We break apart the homemade loaf, view foreign shores, and pose with a whimsical bottle opener.

We ferry to Bainbridge Island. The pace is slow; the sun appears and disappears; there is wine to be sipped, and as the Seattle skyline draws close again, it is agreed that dinner at Delancey will be the right end to the night.

Morning comes with a few last stops squeezed in before a dear friend's plane departs: chocolate samples before noon; decadent cupcakes boxed for carry-on back to Texas; hopeful spring blossoms; a visit to the Fremont Troll and his bridge.

So we return to this memorable marbled cake. Its flavors are simple and yet exotic, and each slice reveals a different pattern of gorgeous color. I really don't know why I let four years go by without making it again. I followed the same recipe practically to the letter, so I will simply refer you back to the beautiful blog La Tartine Gourmande by Béa. My original post is here.

Brazen Proclamations: The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake

2011-03-10T19:59:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the name of a recipe can make all the difference in its appeal. Beyond just listing tasty components like chocolate, cardamom, anchovies, lavender, or fresh fennel (preferably not all together), I am likely to dog-ear a recipe if its name includes something like "The Cake That Got Me Fired" or "The Winning-Hearts-and-Minds Cake".

Around the time that I discovered Saveur magazine (thanks to my culinary-savvy uncle), I stumbled across the recipe on its website for "The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake." Such a brazen proclamation caught my full attention and has held it for at least two years.

Finally, I got around to making the recipe last week when I decided to veer off my grocery list (a frequent occurrence, actually). Too evocative of the coming spring season to pass by, I scooped up six meyer lemons and have been squeezing them into pasta and zesting them into vinaigrettes, but not before I set aside three for this set purpose.

Even though my experience in lemon cakes is limited, my results from this cake recipe were indeed damn good. The crumb was tight and moist. The taste was pure and gentle with fresh lemony tang around the golden crusted edges. I probably could have achieved more lemon flavor throughout but did not want to purchase lemon extract, since it is so rarely called for in recipes I encounter. Zesting an extra lemon ensured sufficient flavor, and I would use the same method all over again.

The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake
Adapted from Saveur

Serves 8-10

I did not use the pan the original recipe specified (a light-colored metal loaf versus a dark one). Because of this, my cake did brown to a degree, but in no way that altered its taste. I simply needed to slip foil over it about twenty minutes into the baking process. Also worth noting before getting started, this cake improves with some sitting time, so try to bake it well enough ahead of serving. I allowed twelve hours from baking to slicing, but twenty-four is recommended.

8 Tbsp. melted butter, plus more for pan
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. fine salt
2 eggs, at room temp
1/2 cup whole milk, at room temp
1/2 cup almond meal
Zest of 3 meyer lemons
Juice of 2 meyer lemons

Heat oven to 350°. Butter a loaf pan measuring 8 1/2" x 4 1/2" x 2 3/4" and, for extra security, you may tuck in a square of parchment paper to line the long sides for easy removal.

Melt butter and allow it to cool slightly as you sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

Combine butter and 1 cup of sugar in the large bowl of a standing mixer (or large bowl with electric hand beaters within reach). Mix until well combined, about 1 minute. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating just long enough to incorporate.

Next, alternate additions of the flour mixture and milk: on low speed, add a third of each batch at a time, beginning and ending with the flour.

Using a broad spatula, scrape down sides of bowl and gently fold in the lemon zest and almond meal to complete a sunshiny yellow fluid batter. Turn it into the prepared loaf pan and bake for approximately 60 minutes. (Depending on the tint of your pan, it may start to brown around 20 minutes. If so, cover with foil). Once a toothpick comes out of the center clean, remove from the oven and transfer to a cooling rack.

In the last ten minutes of baking your cake, prepare the glaze: in a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the remaining 1/3 cup of sugar and the lemon juice. Stir frequently until dissolved but not boiling.

As soon as the cake is out of the oven, and while the glaze is still hot, begin to brush it over the slopping surface of the cake. Patiently brush layer over layer until all the liquid has been absorbed. At this point, turn the cake out of its pan and allow it to cool upright on the cooling rack. When it has reached room temperature (or close to), wrap well in plastic wrap and let it stand at room temperature for at least 12 hours.

BlogCrush: Feasting on Art

2011-02-27T13:00:00.001-08:00

Mondrian Pound Cake Assembly

Food is integral to our daily living, and I would argue that so is the interaction with art. This does not mean you have to be creating art or overtly involved in the appreciation of it, but (without getting into a conversation on the definition of art) it taps at our senses and exists alongside us whether or not we take notice. Through the beauty of a sunrise, the tapping of a foot or swaying of a hip to rhythm, the lacing of cream through a fresh cup of coffee, the adornment of a necklace...and if we keep counting and collecting with each step we take, we might just get dizzy. At least I do from time to time.

This is why I think it was absolutely genius for art historian and food lover Megan Fizell to strike up an educational conversation on the interaction of food and art in the format of her blog Feasting on Art. She leads this conversation with poise and intrigue, and I have been drawn to her posts ever since discovering the blog just over a year ago.

Beer Soup: a recipe I have made and loved!

I am not the only one to get hooked. Her comprehensive treatment of the site and each art piece, recipe, and photograph have earned her a lot of well-deserved publicity. If you have not seen her beautiful work, this is what each of these new BlogCrush featurettes is all about: sharing blogs that please and inspire me, in hopes that you might encounter more inspiration and pleasure in your life.

Giorgio Morandi, Still Life (The Blue Vase), 1920
Oil on canvas, 49.5 x 52 cm, Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen
[I love Morandi!]

I love the taste of art history included in each post, taking me back to the lecture room in my university's art department where I spent many hours jotting down dates, cultural trends, and questions while viewing projected image after image under dim light.

Currently, Feasting on Art is in the midst of its second annual recipe contest, and I would encourage you to check it out. The topic this year is cheese, based on the painting below.

Floris Gerritsz van Schooten, A Still Life of Cheese, c.1585
oil on oak panel, 39.3 x 55.2 cm, Private collection

I couldn't possibly decline such a challenge with all the hours I spend working behind the counter of my city's fine cheese shop. It will be fun, and there are some great incentives, including the opportunity to win a hardcover copy of the cookbook Food of the Louvre (Musee Du Louvre)!

Note: All photography is by Megan Fizell and used with her permission.

Christchurch Quake: Food, Security, Love

2011-02-22T20:54:00.000-08:00

Tonight my heart is with the city of Christchurch. My heart intertwined with the nation of New Zealand at the age of four, when my family of six transplanted our lives there, and though my connections are mostly sewn to the North Island, friends who moved to the South Island hosted my sister, mum, and me when we visited last year. Our longest extension of time on the South Island was with these friends in Christchurch, and my sister and I nudged each other and sighed together in knowing ways throughout our time there. We had work visas that would allow us an additional eight months in the country if we chose, and it was easy to imagine ourselves spending those months in this city. It was grey and drizzly like the northwest corner of America we know so well, and it has the historical spires that remind us of beloved England. Additionally, it is thoroughly Kiwi, and that's the best part.

As my thoughts and prayers turn toward Christchurch's communities and the effects of the devastating earthquake upon its nation, I have a somewhat relevant recipe to share. Ironically, I have been planning to share this recipe all weekend, though I wonder if the descriptor "relevant" would in fact more appropriately be "trivial". We all must eat, but an elaborate recipe at a time when some families are simply grateful to not have any empty seats around their tables? And what of those people who must face the gaping hole of a missing mother, father, brother, or baby?

Food alone cannot heal, and its solace is only temporary, but I am reminded of the connectedness it still brings. I love this quote by M.F.K. Fisher I read in Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef recently:

It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it; and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied; and it is all one.

Tonight I write of savory muffins, an unusual concept to many Americans but well handled and abundantly enjoyed by Kiwis and Aussies alike.

I have been quite swamped with sweet baked goods recently, so when my apples were going mealy and soft even a claufoutis or an apple galette did not sound quite right. I loved the apple and gruyere muffins I had made in December but remembered a different recipe I had been wanting to try and decided to adapt it.

These muffins ended up being a lot of fun to create. Working with what I already had in the kitchen, I tweaked the recipe with a French flair of aromatic brie and gentle lavender. The batter was truly the most gorgeous muffin batter I have ever worked with, and its flavors carried right through in a melding hearty way, as I hoped. These are dense muffins chock full of flavor and color that leave the senses satisfied and stomach nourished. I found their most pleasing pairing in a bowl of classic celery soup.

Frequently, when I mention celery soup, I am met with skeptical or outright disgusted responses. Who would turn the common celery stalk into the star of a soup recipe? Apparently someone was daring enough to do this, and my mom was wise enough to follow their lead, making this a favorite meal at the family dinner table. It naturally earned a place in our compilation of family recipes that each child now keeps in his or her adult kitchen. Creamy, rich, and warming, the celery is thickened by silky potatoes and enhanced by a dash of fresh nutmeg.

One of my Christchurch-dwelling friends asked for this soup recipe earlier in the week when I mentioned it on Facebook. I dedicate my blog post to these friends and all New Zealanders who may be considering the basic needs of food, security, and love from new perspectives now. Perspectives temporarily shocked. Perspectives that are forever shifted. They are not alone.

Roasted Apple and Brie Muffins
Adapted from 101Cookbooks (adapted from Martha Goes Green)

Striving for a heartier muffin, I knew I wanted to replace a reasonable amount of the flour with a whole grain type. I used whole wheat pastry flour and found the batter a bit dense and dry, which is where the additional tablespoons of milk came in. You may omit this addition by your own discretion, especially if using entirely all purpose flour.

Makes 12 muffins

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups apple, 1/2-inch cubes
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour + 1 cup all purpose flour
1 large handful salad greens
1 tablespoon dried lavender
3 tablespoons pumpkin seeds, toasted
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1/2 cup Brie cheese, roughly cubed
2 teaspoons whole-grain mustard
2 large eggs
3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons whole milk (see recipe)
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease 12-hole muffin tin with butter. Set aside.

Spread chopped apples onto single layer of rimmed baking sheet or roasting pan. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss and stir, and bake 15 minutes or until tender and browning. Set aside to cool.

Transfer two-thirds of apples to large mixing bowl, adding salad greens, lavender, pumpkin seeds, Reggiano, two-thirds of brie, and mustard. Gently fold.

In a separate bowl, beat eggs and milk together and add to apple mix. Sift flour and baking powder onto mixture. Top with salt and generous dose of freshly ground black pepper and fold together until all ingredients are just incorporated.

Spoon mixture in prepared muffin pan, filling each hole three-quarters full. Top each muffin with remaining apple bits and brie cubes. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until tops are barely golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool for a couple minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack.

Delicious eaten while still warm. Perfectly revived a day later dunked into a hot soup like the one below.

"Our Favorite" Celery Soup
Used with permission of my mother, Rachael Jewel Bates

Serves 6

1 large bunch celery
1 medium potato, diced
4 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground anise
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme (or 1/2 teaspoon fresh)
5 cups water
2 teaspoons salt

Taking celery, cut off and discard its root end and then wash thoroughly. Chop celery coarsely (including celery leaves on stalks - now would be the time to reserve some leaves for garnish if you like). Set aside. Peel and dice potato.

In a heavy saucepan, heat butter. Saute chopped onion and garlic until onion is softened. Stir in nutmeg, anise, and thyme, and cook for one minute.

Add chopped celery, toss to coat with butter and saute for three minutes. Add water, salt, and diced potato and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until celery and potato are soft.

Next, puree in blender or food processor. Serve immediately or gently reheat if necessary. Garnish each serving with celery leaf clusters.

Chronicling Days Off I

2011-02-17T21:20:00.000-08:00

I love my job, but, oh, I love my days off. They are not all leisurely, but I certainly try to make them as much so as possible. Capturing their little details through my camera lens helps stretch out their pleasure and remind me of all that was enjoyable when I am in the midst of a tiring week...

[Days off are for] baking bread.

(My latest favorite recipe for everyday bread.)

[Days off are for] admiring the stark lines of bare branches against winter grey.

[Days off are for] eating Red Velvet Cake for an afternoon snack.

[Days off are for] wearing warm fuzzy slippers from New Zealand wool.

[Days off are for] digging into my sister's stash of Lavender Earl Grey tea.

To the Business of Cheese

2011-02-15T23:12:00.000-08:00

I started this blog over three years ago as a college student craving a varied form of creativity from my numerous art courses. I found solace and inspiration among the web pages of Orangette, Smitten Kitchen, 101 Cookbooks, Foodbeam, and Chocolate & Zucchini. Today I still enjoy these blogs and more, but my own participation in food blogging has ebbed and I have wondered if that's what I want.

Let me state that is not what I want at all. Of late my desire to food blog has turned to resolve and determination and, thus, some discipline is going to have to come alongside. Initially, post-college, maintaining One Hungry Soul as a food blog simply was not possible as I nomadicly lugged suitcases around the West Coast for two months and then on to New Zealand. I did not have a kitchen of my own, and food blogging was forced into travel blogging with a good dose of musings and photographic snapshots contributed.

It worked, and I enjoyed it. However, I have now had a kitchen for eight months, and just last week I was gifted my very own KitchenAid mixer. It's time to get down to business.

It is rare that my sister and I get the same window of time off work, but on Wednesday we spontaneously managed to get two hours of the afternoon together. Being near Quel Fromage, we had to stop and properly refurnish our refrigerator's cheese box. Arriving home with hungry bellies, we laid out our cheese assortment and popped open a particularly barnyard-y bottle of French cider. To accompany, we took turns reading out-loud from my copy of Best Food Writing 2009.

I am finishing the remainder of Idiazabal and Bonne Bouche as I write this post. Both are absolutely lovely, but the Bonne Bouche, the grey brainy looking round, is always a certain palate pleaser for me. I have a weakness for well developed creamy mold-ripened cheeses, and this young goat cheese by Vermont Creamery is soft and oozy around the edges of the interior (at the age I enjoyed it) with a musty aroma from the ash and humid aging environment. I would love to experience it at a further ripened more piquant point but also love the fresh chèvre acidity combined with subtly developing notes of floral and nutty maturity.

As for that cider I mentioned, I would not recommend it with this Bonne Bouche. I knew they were not right for each other, but since I had both on hand they ended up together briefly. Second time around, I nibbled on an aromatic Brie-type that was the closest I could come to an authentic Camembert and found that the alternating of sips with slices helped me appreciate the cider.

I am quite inexperienced in the realm of ciders, especially traditional French styles and this unpasteurized version, Cidre Bouché by the Dupont Family Estate and its orchards in the Pays d'Auge region of Normandy, surprised me with the undeniable barnyard characteristics of its nose. The flavor contained deep cooked apple and savory leather that grew on me, especially when paired with that satisfying hunk of Brie. My sister preferred not to finish her glass, but I would like to keep tasting Normandy ciders in order to compare and contrast them and ever broaden my palate.

I have learned so much about cheese in the past year. Working at a fine cheese shop has done this for me, and yet every day at my job, whether conversing with customers, researching, or thumbing through one of Max McCalman's superb books, I am reminded how little I know. I hope to set aside a regular space in this blog in which we converse about a certain cheese.

As I appear more regularly again as a food blogger of sorts, I cannot help including the "of-sorts" portion. I love to food blog because I love to converse and share ideas and collaborate with others. Gastronomy is a very accessible arena, and yet I do not want to limit this space to this one topic. Food is one of many beauties in life that I desire to be ever grateful to enjoy with the ease and abundance I am able to. I want to savor other rich aspects of life within these white scrolling pages as well, so beyond recipes and favorite food and drink you can expect mentions of art, travel, relationships, and the many little details of life. Please lend your voice to my humble notations.

Artistic Pursuits

2010-11-30T22:35:00.001-08:00

So, I have this thing. This thing many consider to be a gift. For years I've carried it at arm's length. A beautifully packaged present I have been afraid to claim or become too attached to, I struggle to own the title of artist. I have acted courageously in response from time to time, but just as frequently, my attitude has been of (ashamed) apathy.

Beautiful things stir me; I know I'm not the only one. There's something about a purple carrot cut into a round revealing a radiating white center, something about sunlight filtering through a curtain, something about little details of life that stir and capture me and send me longing for more. I want something bigger, something even more breath-taking. And so I go to canvas. I go to textured water-thirsty paper. I set my fingers to lettered computer keys.

I make these inadequate attempts to say something that expresses what my soul thinks it's trying to say, what it longs to voice. Oh, it's a wondrous thing when clarity comes. But, most of the time, it takes a hard persistent journey to reach that clarity, and there is the ever-wondering if it will show its peaceful face.

Here's one example of clarity that came. I was honored to be commissioned to paint a piece for a mere acquaintance. She was looking for a wedding present for her husband and out of their love for art and the collage of their own experiences together thus far, this idea came together.

The bride and I got together for coffee and she shared the subject that initially inspired this idea. It is a tree she and her groom have continued to come back to during significant moments in their relationship, so from that, we talked about other activities and ideas they mutually value. There are many details in this painting, so I will just choose a few main things to expand upon. First of all, while I loved the look of the tree and recognized the great value of its sentimentality, I had also immediately recognized this couples' desire for a rich, grounded base together. Thus, the roots became significant. In order to keep the tree a main component, I repeated it from another perspective as well. Secondly, the shape moving upward and across the canvas is that of a kayak, a popular activity for the two of them and a symbol of a new and hopeful journey. Lastly, the words "Love, Trust, Adventure" written across the top are words the bride had engraved inside her groom's ring as a surprise.

I finished this painting in July, and my easel has been mostly unoccupied since. I have two large paintings that need some reworking and polishing this coming year. I hope to make 2011 a year in which safe, arms-length-away living just isn't possible, especially in the arts. Especially in who I'm meant to be as an artist hungering after the Master Artist.

A Great Fit of Wasted Energy

2010-11-16T09:23:00.007-08:00

I entered into this fall season dragging my feet. In a sense, I willfully filled the soles of my shoes with lead and resisted the change with a great fit of wasted energy.

Even with all my struggling, the sun's face shied away. I lost my early morning running routine, late evening opportunities for dinner outside in a sun dress, and the satisfaction of a chilled glass of white wine. It had been a peaceful, enjoyable summer, and I did not want to let it go.

I am ashamed to admit that it took me until November to recognize my full resistance. It took this long to release my grudges against 7 a.m. darkness and limited access to fresh flowers. It took being startled by the season's own unique beauty to realize the blindness I had been living in.

In my longing, I had ignored the transitions and gifts of September and October, and all of a sudden, November was here. It came with a strong, striking posture and commanded attention through explosions of color. Even though half the trees had unburdened themselves of brittle leaves by the time my eyes chose to see, there were still mosaics of yellow, brown, pink, and orange across the sidewalks my feet cross daily, and some of the most brilliantly yellow and red trees are holding on. (My favorite scene is bright coral pink leaves reaching up toward a grey sky. I could live in this color combination.)

The season had to change, and just as fall is threatening to call itself winter, I am opening up my palms and willingly receiving. I don't run as much as I did during the summer, but I walk to and from work everyday, and those half hour segments of time in which I simply cannot hurry along slow me down and force me to reflect, think, articulate, and observe.

I'm finding winter ales to an excellent replacement for those glasses of white wine. I don't get as many evening dinners with my roommates, but our household gatherings are all the more precious when they spontaneously come about.

Little by little, I am seeing why I don't want to be anywhere but in this season right now. Some moments, the contentment is pure enough to nestle in -- the enjoyment of one day helping me look forward to tomorrow without wishing myself there too quickly.

So, winter, I anticipate your mittens and mulled wine and snowy pine branches. These are going to be lovely when they arrive, but I'll count and file away each mental and photographic image of autumn until the day to say goodbye comes. I intend to make it swifter, more gratitude-filled, and less selfish than the last transition. Until then, who's up for pumpkin pie?

Settling Here

2010-10-19T22:45:00.011-07:00

I have been penning stories in my head. I have been scheming up paintings and drawings within my heart. Unceasingly, it seems.

Yet there has been a disconnect between the inner yearnings and the outer actions, and it is as if each opportunity passively let go adds more strength to the barrier. I am an artist. An aspiring creator. For months now, there has been little reflection of this in my life.

Midway through last month, in a fit of desperation, I found a scrap of paper in my purse and scribbled down the articulations trying to work themselves out in my mind. I was on the bus on the way to work, and it was a particularly important day in the calendar year of 2010. Forgive the melancholy. This was my honest heart on that day...

My favorite bus driver says, "Happy Saturday," with a generous smile, knowing today ends my work week. My automatic response is an enthusiastic "yes!" But as my smile fades and I find my seat, I'm reminded this day hasn't felt happy yet.

I woke up remembering that I didn't get this day -- September 18th -- last year. It passed me by as my jet flew a host of travelers across the Pacific to Auckland, New Zealand. And now my heart is all tangled. My throat hurts, and my shoulders feel heavy.

I want to want to be right where I'm at.

The window reveals grey sky over grey water cradling forested islands. A rain-drenched world from the long, wet night. I love these smells, these colors, these sensations. But I miss the thrill of being in a land where accents catch my ear, where currency is colorful, where ferns and tropics mix in abundance.

I miss it. And I want to let it go.

I am earnest in wanting to engage in this local life I'm living. I am here after all, and I remind myself that it is very much on purpose. I did not accidentally buy a plane ticket up to Seattle from L.A. after landing back in the States. I did not mistakenly wind up with all my suitcases of belongings in the closet of my mother's new home. And I did not just trivially sign a yearlong lease on a house.

As I get ready to publish this post, I look back over the past week and realize how little I have wished myself anywhere but right where I am at. I like these pavements my feet now find familiar. I like getting to run beneath golden trees and disrupt fallen pink, red, and orange-hued leaves. I have a new workplace, where my days and energy are consumed by helping others to cake, coffee, and a good glass of porto. I like these things.

My heart has spread wide across this world, and sometimes that makes it feel very thin. Tonight, however, I experience the luxurious fullness of all these memories sewn across continents. I'll settle here.

[Top: Breakfast of poached egg & Marmite on toast / Bottom: Cemetery on Lopez Island, WA]

A Day Off

2010-07-18T21:27:00.005-07:00

My weekends begin on Sundays, and I like to pretend that the fact that I get Mondays off while most other people head back to work, means my weekends are extra long. Sometimes it feels that way. Other times forty-eight hours feel like twenty-four.

Today was such a pleasant day off that I wanted to share snapshots of a bit of all I enjoyed. Simply having the leisure of pulling out my camera to freeze a moment kept a lightness within me.

The light of sunshine poured through the windows of our home as I pushed up screened opening to let in the declaration of summer.

Radishes on buttered bread with fleur de sel are my favorite summertime snack. I made them into lunch with the addition of this simple dish, subbing in fresh fava beans and mint from the pot on our front steps.

I just love the little details of this home. Especially the fresh flowers that rotate in each week from my roomie's parents' garden.

And then there's the joy of having an art corner of my own with easel and palette and tubes of paint to squeeze and smear. To have a spare room that is beautifully sunlit and accommodates my excessive art supplies is not something I take for granted. (Though, I was thinking, it would be nice if a mat cutting room came with it too...)

I had time to enjoy all these things as well as take a long walk along the gravel trails of a nearby park with towering, fully-green trees shading my way. There are so many cute old houses around here to keep me fascinated on exploratory walks through the neighborhood. And I love that two great grocery stores are just a jaunt away.

I was able to revel in all these things today and am now ending the day as the last orange light of the sun slips behind silhouetted evergreens beyond my living room window. Old favorites, Glen and Mar, softly sing through my speakers. Buttons on jeans hit the metal dryer walls. It won't be too late of a night, and I'll wake up rested for my early morning run tomorrow.

Even though life's current rhythm doesn't accommodate this blog very often, I appreciate you still hanging on and meeting me here now and then. Till the next mood strikes, the next recipe inspires, or the next painting completes itself (I'll definitely have something to share in that regard in a few weeks!)...

Full-Bodied: Creativity Boot Camp

2010-06-15T21:41:00.004-07:00

I've had to cut myself a lot of slack lately. There are so many things I want to do: organize my new room, hang art on my blank walls, get up early to run, stay up late to "be productive", finish books long drawn out, move on to new equally relevant ones. Between my hours of work, bus travel to and from, and the appointments in my planner, I'm being reminded that so often I set unrealistic time lines.

I know I am not the only one participating in Creativity Boot Camp with a million other things weighing on my mind. So, I read Madeline's guidance for each day and do what I can with each one and sometimes I get through the journal prompt, other days I pull out my camera for the word prompt, sometimes I do both, and some days I just carry the additional thoughts and awareness in my head.

I loved today's daily thoughts to heighten senses and simply savor each encounter with scent, sound, touch.

While my job does not revolve around artistic creativity, there are a lot of sensory elements that feed this aspect of my spirit. I touch cheese, I smell it, I taste it, and I describe each of these elements to my customers. Our primary "wine guy" stopped in this afternoon and poured me a glass of a white and a red and we swirled and inhaled and savored. These are the obvious elements of sensory engagement in my daily life.

In response to a few questions from Creativity Boot Camp, the most pleasant sensation I recall is in the nose of the Sauvignon Blanc. It was satisfaction alone.

The most memory-invoking was the experience of drinking my tea as I read the prompt for the day and sat at the table with my breakfast. I have a strong affection for hot milky black tea thanks to the four months I lived in Oxford in which I survived mainly on PG Tips and Digestives.

The heart-tugging sensory experience of seeing the sky transition from grey to purple to orange to pink drew me to the stone steps outside our door with camera in hand. I ditched the cliché photos I had snapped of a glass of Pinot Noir and hung onto the definition of full-bodied found at Merriam-Webster:

"Having importance, significance, or meaningfulness"

I looked at the house that has turned into a home in the last week and the sky that was my salvation when I lived in Abilene, TX, where natural beauty rarely amazed, much less surfaced. Since leaving West Texas I have seen many beautiful corners of the world and the contrast I know now makes encounters with beauty that much more beautiful.

Place is important to me, though I hold the term "home" loosely. I'm swift to attach it to geographical locations and particular bedroom walls, but I'm also lax to pick it up and move it along to new scenery when the time comes.

So, for as long as this place is appropriate to call home, I'm finding importance, significance, and meaning in inhabiting and enjoying it. I'm so grateful the sky follows us everywhere we go, and there will always be sunsets and sunrises and reminders through them of how striking beauty is to the soul.

Fluid: Creativity Boot Camp

2010-06-12T08:39:00.004-07:00

Yesterday's Boot Camp assignment was to create a work outside of our typical style, to embrace who we are but also stretch ourselves and perhaps stumble upon a fresh discovery of ourselves.

At first I struggled with how I could intentionally do this and with the question of what was outside the bounds of my self-imposed "rules" of creating that I could capture in the few hours I have after getting home from work at seven o'clock. So often my subject matter in photography is limited to food and still life details with wide aperture settings and swift shutter speeds. The first idea that came to mind was people - photographing people. I squirm at this idea more than so many others because I have strong opinions about the sort of people photos I do not like and very rarely succeed in capturing them how I do like. But, then, I rarely try.

I do not like people to feel uncomfortable or under scrutiny so my most successful shoots have been with friends who are already very comfortable in front of the camera. Children are great in this way, too. But I do not feel like I have mastered how to relax people who would not otherwise be at ease and this is where the discomfort and doubt of my abilities come into play.

I hoped to get some people shots yesterday if the opportunity worked itself out, but instead stumbled upon these more spontaneous shots on the ride home from the grocery store. I do not like to do sloppy work. I love that food and flowers and chairs do not move, so that I can get the negative just right and focus in just the way I want. Being in a moving car doesn't allow this to happen easily. So I threw my shutter wide open to a setting that caused it to slowly wink and ramped up the aperture to make sure the exposure stayed balanced.

It was a gorgeous day and the breeze felt good on my hair as the golden dusky sunlight soothed my skin. As my sister drove, I leaned out the window and sporadically snapped pictures of the upward view. They're nothing worthy of hanging in a gallery but they're outside of my norm and happen to incorporate fluid strokes, which is perfect because the word "fluid" was our theme for the day.

Grow: Creativity Boot Camp

2010-06-10T20:51:00.005-07:00

I meant to get on board with this Creativity Boot Camp from day one, but the weekend got away from me and I forgot all about it until my run yesterday morning. By last night I had made it back around to the website and was determine to get down to business. And this is the best sort of "business" I've ever had to do. Yes, it is soul-digging but refreshing and rewarding and worthwhile.

The word for the day was "grow" and the journal prompt was listening to music of your past to conjure up those feelings of deep emotion experienced in younger years, at times of more naivety and/or rawness.

It was perfect timing for me to leap in. I am a music junkie.

I have assigned certain songs or bands to different stages of my life and places I have been. Damien Rice's O and Sixpence None the Richer's Divine Discontent epitomize my senior year of high school. Throw in Brandon Heath's "Small Town Flame" and certain pieces from Les Miserable that I mourned through on the piano and flute, and you have a girl with dreams but concerns about the world's safety in heart matters. Not just in love but in freedom and companionship and the purity of beauty.

To a degree I suppose I still have these ideas and wonderings but with a bit more seasoning. Time has proved both beautiful and tragic in the six years that have passed since I threw my cap in our little school gym and envisioned a life of independence.

I have laid claim to the self-titling of artist. I have trembled with paintbrush in hand, anxiety overwhelming; I have seen brushstrokes moving and colors inspiring beyond my humble inclinations. I have seen brothers marry, friends grow to near-family, and a dad walk out in a way that still sends reverberations. The music and the hope and the dreaming and the loving and the losing have all mixed together and clashed in varying degrees, and I'm left knowing that the best way to move on is to keep sowing beauty. To keep believing Beauty. To keep creating as I was created.

I was reminded of this by the draw to engage in this boot camp, and as I prepared today, one of my favorite bloggers emphasized the notion. A past entry of hers always brings me to tears over the innocent sincerity of this internal desire to re-create that so many of us bear.

I'm participating in this boot camp for me. Because my creative juices need a good, proper uncorking. It's been awfully dry around here. However, a blog is a shared space and I never mean for what I write to be purely selfishly focused. I hope the things I publish in the next week and a half bless and inspire you as I grow and am inspired.

Here's to growth. Here's to the little green fruit I discovered on our tree today in this new yard. It's the tree outside my new window, and I had no idea it was a fruit tree!

This New Ol' Life

2010-05-04T21:15:00.003-07:00

In all the new ways of life in an old place such as Bellingham, I am being reminded of the motivation and renewed energy that can come with change and of the opportunity to shed and refine bits of my old self. Surely, the opportunities are here, but the motivation only occasionally raises its head.

I'm not only needing to be intentional with digging into the darker inner parts of self but intentional in keeping a grasp on the little things that bring me joy: making art (this is a big joy-source), breathing fresh morning air when the world is still mostly silent, baking for others, cooking a meal that I'm excited to eat, and savoring the joy that lit my steps as I prepared to walk into my present job.

So many things to be grateful for in this day...

An art project that led me to discover this beautiful tree at a quiet new-to-me park.
Roommates to come home to.
Bright and deeply green lush hillsides.
New names to learn and hands to shake.
Sunshine after yesterday's rain.
Hot tea on cold hands.
Music for just the right mood.
The smell of a shop full of cheese.
Squirmy dissatisfaction that signals shifts (for the better) must come.

NZ: The Loose Ends

2010-04-18T21:32:00.008-07:00

I've been thinking about New Zealand a lot this week. Not just the country as a whole or the way saying it tugs at my heart but the specific memories from my most recent residence there.

Finding a coffee shop to frequent in Bellingham reminds me of Caffe Massimo in Takapuna and the strength of their cappucino, which always came served with a familial wink from the owner.

Boarding a bus and seeing Bellingham from a whole other viewpoint reminds me of the rides across the Harbour Bridge into downtown and how I spent my last few trips trying to engrave that beloved skyline into my memory. It reminds me of giggling with high school girls as we headed to the shops or the beach and how beautiful those young ladies were (are). It urges me to seek out eye contact with the bus driver as I step off and make sure to send a "cheers" his way...but it's not the same here as there. And it would be dull if it was.

Changes have been stewing ever since I landed in Bellingham (much more permanently than I expected). I feel so grateful that, in the settling, newness and adventure still have created days of inner smiles as I squirm uncomfortably and/or excitedly. I still have reasons to take big gulps of air, to wonder about the unknown, and to be reminded that so much of what I picture isn't at all what comes to be. And that's for the better.

I'm seeking community once again and yet am in the unusual place of already have some automatic "ins". Family, for example. A few lasting friendships from those days when Bellingham really was a brand new place as well, when I was a (naturally) blonde nine-year-old with a lingering Kiwi lightness to the ends of my sentences. I'm grateful for what has lasted through so many years and for what is to come.

Before getting further into Bellingham life on this blog, though, I need to wrap up the loose ends from New Zealand. It will come more in pictures than words because there are just too many stories over the course of the three weeks my mum and sister and I spent traveling the north and south islands. Reunions with old friends are among the dearest moments. But swooping narrowly between peaks to land in Queenstown, cutting through water of the darkest teal as fjords framed the way for our voyage to the Tasman Sea, and slipping into the rhythm of left-side driving while leaning to the right and the left with each curve of road that took us around the Coromandel and through dense fern growth and alongside near-deserted white sand beaches, these experiences were priceless in their own right.

Road to Milford Sound I

Road to Milford Sound II

Milford Sound

New Zealand Flax

Our friends' llama

Ella and her chicken

Inside Christchurch Cathedral

Mum

At She Chocolat at Governor's Bay

On the Mount in Tauranga

Bush walk to Cathedral Cove

Cathedral Cove on the Coromandel Peninsula

Elise

Northern beach along the Coromandel

Looking west across the Coromandel

A Summer New Year's: A New Cafe and Its Fries

2010-03-14T08:48:00.007-07:00

In these catch-up posts on my four months in New Zealand, it's worth including an update on the coffee shop I endorsed so highly back in October after a weekend in Raglan. My friends and I returned to their bach for New Years weekend and we were all very excited for stops at the distinctive artsy Tongue & Groove as often as we could justify needing coffee in one day.

As it turns out, we walked right by the entrance to the cafe and then stopped at the doors to the next store, confused and bewildered. (I was the one more so bewildered as my confidence in how well I had learned the blocks of Raglan's main street in my last visit were now in question and my generally reliable sense of direction also up for examination -- at least internally, for, upon stopping, the rest of my company immediately understood that this familiar spot had simply been replaced. That's right, entirely gutted and replaced.)

While we all shared in a healthy dose of mourning for Tongue & Groove as we sat down in these new surroundings, it didn't take long for us to appreciate what was before us: The Shack. A bright white sunny old beach house turned cafe with less grunge than its previous resident and a bit more swank. The wide wooden boards lining wall and ceiling had been entirely painted over in clean white and uniform paper globe lights hung high over our heads. Apart from the warm-hued wood trim still around windows and doorways, the only other prominent colors came in striped fabric in cheerful oranges, yellows, pinks, and whites that covered a low L-shaped bench running along the back wall and part of the length of the room.

I have no critiques of their redesign. I think they created a lovely new space that I would be happy to live in. However (if I must point out a negative), it did seem awfully chick-y, though that didn't keep the place from staying full all weekend long with both men and women...my sister and I even sat next to some high school age boys while waiting for a take-away order of curly fries.

Somehow I neglected to get any pictures of the food and don't remember anything too distinct about it. Except those fries. Kiwis seem to live their fries (most often referred to by the British term chips) because I really don't think the amount of fries I'd eaten the previous five years amounted to the quantity I consumed in New Zealand...especially if you count Burger Fuel's kumara chips, which have already received one mention of affection on this site.

Anyway, back to The Shack's fries. We got a rather late breakfast our first morning in Raglan, so my friend took it upon himself to jump straight into lunch fare and order curly fries. At 11am and paired with my morning coffee, I was not drawn in and let the rest of the table pick away. However, every time we walked by the sidewalk-lined tables outside the cafe throughout the weekend, every table seemed to have at least one large bowl piled high with the cute curly fries complete with a bright sprinkling of fresh parsley. So on the last day the craving got to me, and as we were heading out of town, my sister and I made one final stop and placed an order for the road and grabbed a cold sweaty bottle of ginger beer. I won't blow these fries out of proportion by saying that they were the best I've ever had, but they hit the spot on that summer afternoon. Their batter was crisp and lightly coated each pure white spiral, hitting that spot of salty and starchy that many of us wish we could stifle.

As for the rest of the holiday season, my sister and I got to spend Christmas day
with dear old family friends and feel truly welcomed as family. This was in Tauranga, a city we only spent a few days in and that I remember most strongly as the place with the Wild Life Park...a quirky experience recorded on my 35mm, which reminds me of all the rolls of film in my closet nagging to be developed.

Between Christmas and New Years we were in Taranaki near New Plymouth having a wonderful time at our friends' dairy farm. I kept procrastinating on pulling out my camera during this time and sadly realize now that I have very little to show of the spectacular views we saw and even less of the dear faces of people we grew closer to. I'll offer what little I have.

Stay tuned. Just one more post on NZ, and then I'm jumping into the exciting happenings of my present life in Bellingham, Washington. Truly, they are exciting! I can't believe the opportunities that have opened up to me recently and can't wait to share.

Three Girls and an Island

2010-02-26T22:20:00.000-08:00

Think rolling hills. Think wide hedges and closely shorn fields of green. Think of all of this dropping away to rocky points and white sand beaches. You've reached Waiheke Island (or any number of islands in the world, actually), but my sister Elise, her friend Amanda, and I set out very specifically for this one on a Monday morning in December. And we're so glad we did.

It became one of my absolute favorite NZ days.

We caught a ferry from downtown Auckland and gave ourselves a full day to see the island: the quiet beaches, the artsy shops, and (mainly) the wineries. Sitting down for a cup of coffee and perusing the shops took all of an hour, so we wandered down to a beach to kill some more time before tasting rooms opened/till we felt like it was late enough in the day to healthily start drinking wine.

The wonderful thing about these two people I was with was that they were both within two years of my age - a rare experience after working and living in a community where I was most connected to toddlers, high schoolers, and moms of university students. Also, they loved photo ops, especially jumping ones and goofy ones, which gave me no excuses in my tendency to focus my camera lens more on food and scenery than people - a subject matter that still often intimidates me. It didn't necessarily make for professional material (as you will see) but the cheesiness still gave me practice. Oh, and I was back with my loverly sister again, who had been off on her own New Zealand adventure for the past two months.

Our first stop was Mudbrick, a vineyard and restaurant boasting the most spectacular views and coziest, classy decor. As soon as we pulled into the gravel parking lot and peered through our rented old station wagon's windows, we were gushing. We oohed at the restaurant's long french-door lined wall. We aah-ed at the outdoor stone fireplace bordering the rows of vines. And, really, I don't think we shut up for the next nine hours.

We had gotten to experience Waiheke on a perfect sunny summer day, and driving through the quiet winding roads on the east side of the island as well as visiting Te Whau and Wild on Waiheke (don't judge the name like we did - or the gunmen firing laser guns at claybirds in the field next to the driveway - just drive on in and make sure to taste their beers...and ginger beer!), we snapped more pictures with our mind's eye than was possible with camera lenses and said over and over, "Isn't this beautiful?", "Aren't we glad we did this!", and "Do you think the owner of Mudbrick has an eligible son who'll marry me?"

At the end of our day, we landed back at the vineyard we'd fallen head over heels for (do I need to say Mudbrick again?) and had an elegant dinner in a quiet dining room flooded with golden evening light. It was certainly a splurge but the experience will not be easily forgotten. In fact, I very much hope for it to be refreshed before I have to climb the steps from the car park with a stooped back and silver grey hair...or in the next ten years would do fine too, thanks.

Been Missing You

2010-01-24T12:49:00.006-08:00

Why is it that at some of the most important times in life journalling and recording habits show themselves the least?

It seems to be because sitting still and alone any longer than necessary shows itself as missing out on the fullness of the moments. At least for me. Especially in front of a computer (unless, of course, I'm watching Friends or Glee episodes with a friend or sister - let's just pretend that's justifiable).

So here I am after my longest break from One Hungry Soul, haunted by all those photographs I snapped and memories I now grip with a wistful heart. A degree of their narrative is forever lost by not leaping toward a pen and journal at the end of their day, the sharpness of their reality is vignetted and muted by letting days upon weeks upon months pass between their existence and this clicking of keys. And my mind becomes weary in the effort of recapturing. My heart grows achy.

I don't mean to slip into melancholy. I don't desire to turn this post into a complete recovery of times past either.

However, I do have some goals. I still want to share with you some of the highlights of my last five weeks in New Zealand. My plane lifted out of Auckland on January 26th, and I cried beneath that sleeping mask for a good duration of our flight over the Pacific. It was bizarre and unexpected behavior on my behalf, being a girl who embraces change and seeks adventure and is always pulling for tears when a goodbye is at hand. So my conclusion is there's something to be said for those four months in kiwi land. Something sweet and special and still not fully understood. In an outward sign of gratitude and joy in all I experienced, I want to share with you. I hope you find the pictures pleasing and the stories entertaining and it all of worth in your own travel plans, if they ever take you down to a certain little country near Antarctica that's known for its sheep and flightless birds and All Blacks and Southern Alps (let's leave Lord of the Rings out of this for once).

Here's a little preview of what's to come...

I promise you won't have to wait too long this time!

But a World in You: Norwegian Apple Cake

2009-12-09T21:24:00.007-08:00

You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.
- Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth

Today I walked along the beach with Rangitoto to my left. Glittering water beneath a summer sun spread wide between islands and shorelines. And as my heels sunk into the sand with each wave that washed away my footing, I thought about all the salty ocean water that has romanced me.

Hawaiian waves were the first, faced in the safe grasp of my father or mother when my legs were still too wobbly and chunky, but even long after my baby fat was shed, my family would make our returns to Hawaii. Dad and I would slip out the back door together and cross the field to soft white sand and cool water for our early morning swim.

Years later I met the turquoise blue waters of the Mediterranean as they lapped against the stone wall on which I sat with an I "heart" Naxos sticker in my purse. Friends and I shared moments of awe and wonder from high on a ferry deck as we journeyed back to Athens, dark blue starry sky closing in on an orange sun that slipped beyond the horizon. Hundred Islands in the Philippines; Pacific waves that crash with Costa Rican flair; late night Mexican sand lit by beach fires and glowing cigars. Beaches along the Santa Barbara coast that acquired terms of endearment such as "good ol'" and "dear" refreshed my body and spirit, whether alone or bonding with new friends. There's homey Puget Sound, and there's the orange-lily-speckled Ibaraki coastline too.

I carry these images and memories in my heart, which tugs no less for the people with whom I shared each season than for the individual shorelines. Pebbles, shattered shells, black sand, and speckled white: I find pleasure in each circumstance and value in each face.

This little world living inside me, this world that Buechner speaks of, is indeed strongly comprised of people and places but it would not be complete without tastes. The taste of Norway on Christmas morning, India through friends' curries scooped up in wet orange fingers, Washington experienced in the sweetest of summer's berries and fall's apples.

And it's not all about geographical locations. It's about smelling coffee in the kitchen in the morning and thinking of my dad's espresso machine, eating leftover pear clafoutis with plain yogurt for breakfast and knowing my mother would have made extra for the exact same purpose, and it's about sitting down to a dinner without any vegetables in sight and wondering where the rest of the meal is. It's a marvel how much these stomach habits influence the psyche. Their disruption can depress, and their presence can comfort, restore, and inspire.

So it was that I was inspired in the making of this Norwegian Apple Cake. I was comforted in the process of halving crisp apples and turning their exposed pale faces down on the cutting board to be diced and swept into a pile on the side. I was restored in biting into something light and sweet and simple tasting that my own hands had made.

You see, I rarely spend time in the kitchen these days. And with that I have to say I miss it. I miss meal-planning and grocery shopping and knowing exactly what's going into my body. I miss the art and therapy and practicality of it all. But, in turn, I'm so grateful for the hospitality available to me in this season and will feel forever blessed by those who have opened their homes so freely to me.

Thus we return to the cake. (Sorry, this is what happens when I go too long without visiting this blog -- my fingers run away with me.) Mainly, what I'm wanting to say is that this cake was lovely. It puffed up airily in the oven and then settled into itself for a thin eggy inside and lightly crunchy top. The apples are the structure of the cake because the batter is thick and minimal in ratio, but if you use the back of a spatula it will spread out well enough in the bottom of your pan and all come together in the heat of the oven.

My accompaniment to this cake was a barely sweetened cardamom whipped cream. I wanted to emphasis the Nordic origin of the cake since it was being served at an international dinner and knew the warming presence of cardamom (so reminiscent of my grandmother's Christmas cookies) would pair well with apple. I got generous compliments on both and will be making this cake again. It's just the sort of thing that can cross over into breakfast the next day, like a proper fruit-filled crisp (or the aforementioned clafoutis).

I found the recipe on a brilliant food blog called Everybody Likes Sandwiches, which features a promising looking coconut bread recipe in the same post. And I must include the blog she got the original recipe for Norwegian Apple Cake from, as it is equally brilliant and lovely: Bunny Pie.

Recipe link: Norwegian Apple Cake.

Thanksgiving and Springtime

2009-11-22T14:04:00.005-08:00

Well, it's the week of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving week, and I'm eating local strawberries and visiting the farmers' market for fresh tomatoes and spring lettuces. It's all a bit bizarre, but I love the oddity as well. In fact, I'd be content forgoing the heavy Thanksgiving food if I didn't happen to be around other Americans. But we seem to be inescapable people, so, of course, I'll embrace the festivities. (And, really, pumpkin pie goes down well any time of year.)

In the meantime, let's talk farmers' market. One of my favorite subjects.

This weekend was my first time to visit the Auckland City Farmers' Market, and while it was lovely, and I hope to go back, it was quite small. For the time it took to get into the city (not to mention park - I'll definitely bus next time), I was underwhelmed. I suppose there are other farmers' markets around the city, but this seemed like The One. If that's true, then a small city like Bellingham just put Auckland to shame.

Still, I'll go back. All the more reason, right? This place needs some lovin'. And ordering a coffee at the Kokako Coffee stall to sip while strolling by the cheeses, honeys, herbs, and pastries doesn't sound half-bad on a Saturday morning, even if you find yourself back where you started in five minutes.

I picked up some fresh hand-stretched mozzarella from a vendor whose name I don't recall and enjoyed it in a simple tomato-full panzanella yesterday. If only it was practical to carry a pot of basil home with me too.

Being that last Saturday was the market's third anniversary as well, there was live music by Reb Fountain. I didn't stay around too long for a good listen but liked the little I heard. Without her, her band, and their groupies, I'm curious as to the atmosphere of the market on the average day. Will it feel emptier? Quiet?

Only one way to find out.

Three Lemons Make a Loaf

2009-11-11T20:02:00.002-08:00

While this blog has diffused over the last several months into less and less of a food-centric blog, that has not necessarily meant that my activity in the kitchen has ceased. I'd never allow that to happen. But it certainly has declined.

Having just counted up the weeks since I arrived here in New Zealand (Eight! It's been eight weeks! I've been telling everyone five.) and then tacking on the ten days of road-tripping prior to our departure, I haven't been in a familiar kitchen since August 30th.

No wonder I was starting to get antsy for the browning of onions, drizzling of olive oil, creaming of butter and sugar, and the habit of a watchful eye on the oven.

I've made a few cakes for events and put together individual lunches but only enough to count on my fingers, and that's more than slightly out of the ordinary. My old ordinary anyway. Being in a home-stay situation for three months means that I'm getting to experience the hospitality of initial strangers, and I am so thankful for having been invited into family rituals such as the sharing of food. At times sitting down to a communal meal is far more important (and delicious) than having put together my favorite salad or soup.

While at a friend's last week, I noticed her two lemon trees full of large sunny yellow fruit. As I made my selection from the tree branches, I couldn't help smelling the sweet skin of each beautiful citrus. There's no comparing these and the thin-skinned ones at the supermarket.

I decided to modify a favorite recipe for these lemons. I had noted the suggestion of substituting lemons when I first read the recipe but always stuck with oranges, sometimes the Cara Cara variety. Making the switch to lemons proved entirely worthwhile. I held off on the suggested glaze until tasting the loaf (yes, I used a long, skinny loaf pan lined with baking paper instead), and I was glad to discover that the additional sugar wasn't necessary.

Everyone seemed to love this loaf and commented on its moistness. I love the visible bits of rind in each slice from coarsely mincing the boiled lemons. Bonus: it is gluten-free and dairy (not egg) free with very little fat.

If you're making it for an event, just be sure to give the cake/loaf a day for the flavors to brighten. If there's no particular occasion, do your best to practice self-control and save at least half for the next couple days. The taste will only improve.

Photos of my previous versions are here and here.
Recipe found here.

Fire in the Sky

2009-11-08T14:55:00.003-08:00

While November in the United States means that the craft stores fill with cheap, mass-produced wooden turkeys and cutesy pumpkin-orange "Happy Thanksgiving" signs*, here fireworks stands begin to pop up and kids shift their attention immediately from their Halloween lollies to explosives and sputtering sparklers.

The month's much-anticipated holiday comes earlier here (November 5), but it tries to stretch out the length of its celebration as long as possible. While Guy Fawkes Day has great significance in the history of Britain, over the years it seems to have been reduced to one primary element (as holidays often are): fireworks. It seems that my neighbors have been conserving their firework stashes, because even as we were watching a movie last night -- three days after Guy Fawkes -- flashes of light were illuminating the darkness outside the living room window.

On Friday night friends and I got our fill of fireworks by driving out to Kumeu for a fireworks show that sent the young girl next to me on the crowded lawn cowering into her mother's arms. Crying out louder with each explosive boom that penetrated her small palms clapped over delicate ears, I felt sorry for the little one, but enjoyed playing with the aperture, shutter speed, and focus of my camera for the following shots.

*Just to be clear, I love Thanksgiving and all things fall related (okay, most things). It just so happened that today the inside of places like Hobby Lobby and Michaels popped into my head before turning leaves, pumpkin bread, and knit scarves. These latter things will always have a place in my heart.

Weekend by Weekend

2009-10-28T17:00:00.005-07:00

I have one lament concerning Auckland. I acknowledge I was thoroughly spoiled by my last big-city experience. Three weeks in San Francisco somewhat raises one's standards of convenient local transportation and not only does Auckland lack this but it is so spread out in comparison to SF that walking is not nearly as much of a happy alternative.

So I'm covering this city inch by inch, weekend by weekend and that means I still have loads of ground to cover. Especially because when I say Auckland, I mean North Shore City/Auckland City. Just go with it.

Last weekend I got to explore new areas with a new friend and my feet loved the walk up Queen Street -- the mingling with the locals, the discovery of an orangey-red vintage purse on K. Road, the details on the old buildings, the worn signs on the new, the countless Asian discount shops, and the kumara chips (french fries) at Burger Fuel. (Yes, I have come to love a place with such an un-lovely name as Burger Fuel. But you would, too, if you tried their well-salted kumara chips with creamy, garlicy aioli.)

Details from the beautiful afternooon:

Holidaying in Raglan

2009-10-24T00:55:00.003-07:00

Like I have mentioned, among my most cherished moments in returning to New Zealand have been reunions with old friends.

Almost two weeks ago, two friends (one acquired at the age of five and the other as friend-number-one fell in love with and married friend-number-two) drove up to Auckland for long-awaited conversations carried out with no computer in between. Of all the people I've looked forward to seeing while here, P. and H. were among the top.

We headed down to Raglan on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to spend three nights at their bach (Kiwi for vacation home). It was a lovely two-hour drive south of the city to Hamilton and then due west. The road between Hamilton and Raglan climbed to stunning views, but I knew that attempts at truly capturing it through the car window, in all its splendor - the sharp peeks and diving valleys, some shaved to clean green grass and others populated with trees - were slim.

Once in Raglan, there were plenty of photo ops, but it turned out that my favorite place to pull out the camera was at a cafe called Tongue & Groove. We went there twice for coffee, and it was just the sort of place I'd like to always have down the road. Painted wood floors with the dark naked boards revealed from wear, vintage patterned counter tops in alternating colors, a chalkboard menu, and even a table fashioned from half a surfboard protruding from the wall and paired with old brown leather theater chairs. Lovely aesthetics, friendly staff, and a damn good cappuccino.

Below is an earl grey tea that I purchased on my first visit. Then there's the brownie the three of us shared while sitting at the surfboard table.

But just so you know we didn't sit inside all day, here are some photos from around the area.

Essential Details

2009-10-22T01:15:00.003-07:00

One Hungry Soul has been haunting me. Each photograph my camera captures translates to something else to blog about - my new life in this gorgeous country deserves much more documentation than I am allotting it. And so, as I sit on my bed on this quiet night, I retrace my steps over the past few weeks, hoping not to miss the essential details that desire to be shared.

Here's one: Sharing a warm, dry home with a seven-year-old and his mother as the spring rain persists in the watering of already drenched soil.

I moved out of that sweet little house a week ago but want to offer a glimpse into my surroundings there before this blog moves on as well.

During the hushed gaps in the coming weekend, I anticipate a more thorough catch-up on life's photo log.

Beaches and plenty of cappuccino cups await.

With Old Friends

2009-10-04T15:21:00.002-07:00

I think it is well established that New Zealand is a beautiful place. So let's not dwell on the lush fern forests and brilliantly green paddocks and the way some sort of flower always manages to be showing its face, no matter the season.

Just as wonderful as it is to be living in this aesthetically pleasing land, I find reunions with old friends equally soul-satisfying.

Yesterday a young man picked up my sister and I for lunch, a man who I last saw fifteen years ago, when he was eight years old and had round cheeks and the ability to sing a few octaves higher, surely. These days he's tall and thin and often in the company of his lovely fiancee, a startling realization of just how fast we have grown up.

The four of us shared a delicious meal together at Takapuna Beach, where the scenery, food, and company were thoroughly enjoyable -- even with the burst of rain on the way back to the car. Once the summer sun comes out to stay, I hope to venture back. Any place that serves poached feijoas and greek yoghurt over brazil nut and linseed granola (yes, they actually used the American term "granola"), especially within glass wall that face the beach, wins a bit of my heart.

When I start to wonder if New Zealand possesses any authentic "homey-ness" to me anymore, or if the years of distance have wiped it all away, the act of rekindling friendships comes as a comforting gift.

Flickers of Memories

2009-09-22T01:06:00.001-07:00

Nothing ages you quite like going back to a place you haven't seen in fifteen years. I feel like I have lived through multiple lives, the former one being so full of events and memories that have been fuzzed out by the many that happened in the latter. Everywhere I go, I wonder if my little blonde-headed four to eight year old self stepped foot here too.

And, yet, I know that in most cases the answer is 'no'. We lived in Glendowie and so stayed mostly on the other side of the bridge from where I'm residing, on the North Shore. Thus, most of this experience is genuinely new and lovely in all its opportunities for discovery and growth.

Yesterday, I went to a new place (I think) with some new friends. Muriwai Beach was reminiscent of Hawaii with its black sand, rocky cliffs, and turquoise waves. And, yet, walking along the shore in my sweater, only letting my toes occasionally touch the chilly water, I could have easily been back on the West Coast of the U.S.

I don't mean to break this beautiful scene apart into disparate parts of the world, and dilute its Kiwi-ness. It was genuinely its own, with gannets and surfers in ice-cold water and a mix of palm trees, evergreens, and sheep-speckled hills meeting the shoreline.

Tonight I'm straddling that fifteen year bridge again. I sit at a kitchen table in a home that is entirely new to me, but has been warmly opened to the role that I'm currently living as a grown woman, a college graduate who has moved away from mum and dad to establish myself (whatever that means, right?). And, yet, I sip a drink that surely passed my lips as a child, a drink that awakens flickers of memories. Milo's milky, chocolaty warmth passes through this ceramic mug onto my cold hands that have aged from chubby and naive to slender and scarred in the course of years.

Not So Long Ago

2009-09-14T23:47:00.003-07:00

It feels like ages ago that my sister and I passed through Oregon, meandering down the coastline highway. We stayed on the slow, scenic 101 for as long as we could, taking in its charm and beauty. Forced to turn inland about midway down the coast, we parted ways with the long stretch of shoreline, widening and narrowing but always being met by powerfully crashing waves, icy from their origin in the northern Pacific Ocean.

I say that it feels like ages ago, but in fact it was last Sunday. And Monday. Here are some favorite photos.

I'm trying to keep Flickr updated with photos (especially since my blog is so behind). Stop by there if you'd like to see more.

A Necessary Stop

2009-09-13T08:58:00.006-07:00

A week ago this morning, my sister and I opened the front seats of a little white Honda Accord, took a look back at the objects filling the seats behind us - suitcases, boxes, a snowboard, two long hand-wittled walking sticks, and spare cameras - and closed our doors with caution and excitement.

To save myself space and give you a little extra time in your day, I'll skip ahead to today and let you know that we are now in Santa Barbara, California. Our starting point was Lynden, Washington, and we've enjoyed a (mostly) leisurely-paced drive down the West Coast, taking more photos than I can quote in any sort of accurate quantity.

I will try to share a fair amount of photos and stories in the next few days. If that doesn't happen, I'll simply have to move on because on Thursday night I board a plane for Auckland, New Zealand, and twelve hours later I will touch down in a land and life that deserves stories all its own, brought to you with fresh photographs and still-forming perspectives.

For now, let me back up a few days earlier than last Sunday. It was Thursday, in a life where my sister and I still considered a two hour drive quite lengthy. We got on I-5 that morning and headed south to Seattle to visit friends and family, faces that needed to be seen in person before our departure.

To finish off our day, we met with two friends at Delancey in Ballard. Now, you should know, this was not just a random dining selection. Ever since Molly, of Orangette, shared that she and her husband were planning on opening a wood fire oven pizza place in Seattle, I have been anxious to go. It worked out quite perfectly that by the time I made my way back to Seattle eight months later, the restaurant had been open for a couple weeks. Better yet, I had friends that were just as eager to try it (and a gluten-intolerant sister who was willing to 'treat' herself to a fluffy wheat-filled pizza crust just for the occasion).

The photographs I took sadly do not include any of the food we ate. By the time we got there, the light outside was fading, and when the food arrived, I decided I wanted to put my camera aside and really focus the food and conversation before me.

Frankly, everything was superb. I loved the salad options available: a fresh corn and tomato one and one of lively dark greens and paper-thin slivers of radish, both with successfully simple vinaigrettes. Our pizzas were of the foraged mushroom and shaved zucchini variety. The first was the special of the day, but I don't recall many details beyond that for either pizza (I haven't found their menu online to jog my memory). Actually, I know the zucchini one had delightful little salty bites of anchovies and am fairly confident the mushroom one was finished with a topping of fresh marjoram. Knowing the standard of good food that Molly and Brandon hold (this is willfully shared through Molly's blog and book; I am not a stalker!), the sauce and cheeses used on their pizzas are very purposefully and wisely chosen, making for pizzas that belong with a glass of wine.

We four girls shared a lovely rosé throughout the meal and two desserts to top the night off. I never thought of ordering a popsicle in a sit-down restaurant before, but when our waitress told us that Molly had picked the blackberries a couple days before and we saw cute little glasses, like tall, skinny shooters, arriving at other people's tables, we decided that was just what we wanted: a blackberry yogurt popsicle and chocolate chip cookie with grey salt. Both were delicious, but the popsicle was the surprise favorite.

The photos scattered throughout this post tell a story of the atmosphere of Delancey much more than the food, but when it comes to eating, the environment is often just as important as the food in the end. The decisions made at Delancey for a bar and its subsequent stools, an open kitchen, specials on a chalkboard wall, framed photography on the walls, and contrasting light fixtures hanging on long thin black stems from the ceiling make the entire place casual, yet classy, yet entirely unpretentious.

I might just move to Ballard when I return from the land of the kiwi bird.

My Northwest Bug

2009-09-02T11:46:00.003-07:00

Life's days are continuing to fly out from under me. Since getting to Bellingham, I've had my wisdom teeth removed, helped my mom move houses, prepped for and celebrated her wedding, and tried (with some success) to see people I'm needing to say goodbye to before heading across the Pacific Ocean...indefinitely.

Fortunately I've made it to the farmer's market twice, as you can see above, and spent time in one of my favorite cafes; the third floor of Village Books and the view out the window are what you see in the photos below.

The Temple Bar is on the schedule for later this week, and a day in Seattle is coming tomorrow, so somehow I'll satisfy a bit of my Northwest bug before heading out on the road for ten days. My sister and I will be winding our way down the coast visiting friends and family on our way to LAX with suitcases and plenty of cameras and playlists in tow.

A Few Discoveries

2009-08-24T00:00:00.009-07:00

I'd like to share a few discoveries with you since coming back to Bellingham. Coincidentally, they have to do with food - this little city does quite well for itself in that area.

Our local food co-op opened a location just a couple minutes from my mom's place while I was away, and being the grocery shopaholic I am, it's a delightful place to go.

On Saturday I was in search of apples for a compote I was making, so when a mound of local organic Ginger Gold apples caught my eye in the produce area, I made sure to add an extra one to my bag to eat fresh and crunchy.

At home I sliced up the spare apple and passed a couple juicy slices on to my mom. Thankfully it occurred to me before we got any further into oohing and aahing that this apple would probably pair perfectly with the Whiskey Cheddar in our cheese drawer. And, oh, was I right!

The cheese came from my other Bellingham discovery in the past week: a superb little cheese shop in Fairhaven called Quel Fromage. It's small but pristine with clean white walls and a beautiful cheese case, filled with goat, sheep, and cow milk cheeses in all forms and textures. While I was there, per recommendation of my sister, I picked up a Bucherondin and my previously-mentioned Whiskey Cheddar. Both are amazing, but the cheddar leaped ahead in favor when placed alongside a slice of crisp green Ginger Gold apple and eaten in one harmonious bite.

If you don't have a specialty cheese location where you could possibly track down, or request, a Whiskey Cheddar (this one comes from County Limerick in Ireland), then at least make sure you buy some good sharp cheddar cheese as you head into fall. As the apple season peaks, this is one of my favorite snacks.

As the Sun

2009-08-22T09:45:00.005-07:00

Bellingham has been flooded with sunny days lately. This is some evening light hitting the banks of the harbor at the marina.

We went out to play for the evening
We wanted to hold on to the feeling
And the stretch in the sun
And our breathlessness as we run
To the beach endlessly
As the sun creeps up on the sea
- Lisa Hannigan*, Lille

*I'm crazy about this musician right now. Been listening to her for three months straight and still not sick of her sound or poetic lyrics.

Homey Little Corner

2009-08-18T21:23:00.003-07:00

Tonight was the first night I got to really absorb the fact that I am back in my homey little corner of the United States. Dinner was shared at one of my favorite places, Boundary Bay Brewery, and then we drove to the marina to walk through the park and along the rim of the sail-filled harbor.

For now, we'll focus on dinner. (My camera's battery died before I could get the rest of the photos off it, so another day I'll make sure and share pictures from the marina.) Apart from Boundary Bay's ales, this place has an atmosphere certainly worth bragging about. It's nothing pretentious, and everything tastes best when eaten on the patio on a sunny summer evening. The winner in the taste bud category this evening was the Yam Alechiladas. Hands down.

Beginnings and Endings

2009-08-16T21:05:00.004-07:00

It really wouldn't be fair to skim over the last few weeks, as much as I like to keep this blog current. Those days deserve better. After all, they marked the end of my time with Foodzie, an internship and life in San Francisco that I will always treasure. They hosted a reunion with a childhood friend from my years in New Zealand; this reunion took the form of a road trip down the winding, cliff-hugging Pacific Highway to Santa Barbara. There the days were spent revisiting memories from a life that seems so long ago, but in fact only three years ago laid significant foundations in my art education.

And that education has officially ended! As of Thursday, I have completed all my course requirements and am awaiting my final grade and then my diploma.

Here are some pictures to chronicle the endings and beginnings in the past two weeks...

Ending of life in San Francisco (my last breakfast, eaten on a bench by the ferry building). Beginning of my love affair with Blue Bottle cappuccinos and Frog Hollow fruit...

...the sunlight was brilliant that morning.

Beginning of road trip.

Nearing end of road trip...in a much drier climate.

Beginning and end of Santa Barbara photo shoot, just a detail from an antique wagon on the sidewalk in Summerland. I was not in tourist mode.

Beginning of a happy return to Washington food. A peak at my fig danish, still inside its bag and fresh from Columbia City Bakery on my first morning back in the Northwest. I'll be around here for about three weeks.

What My Eyes See

2009-08-03T23:38:00.005-07:00

Pictures say it best when the sky has long been dark and the amount of words that could be spent catching up on the last week(s) threaten a further lapse into silence. Here is what I have to give tonight, friends.

The Closest Thing

2009-07-21T20:39:00.011-07:00

Over the weekend I was able to obtain a pan for my faulty little stovetop and last night cooked my first meal in this apartment - a little space that truly is the closest thing to home I currently have on this earth. I'm very grateful to have it, and now that it's been warmed with the scents of marinara sauce and browned butter over the past two evenings, it carries a certain comfort and ease.

Oh but please don't start thinking that I'm spending all my time within these walls. In fact, this weekend I got to spend an hour or so on a sailboat beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, which was shrouded in fog. It is so wonderful to live near the water again.

On Sunday I walked up one of San Francisco's many hills to Grace Cathedral and lay on the grass of a small park across the street to do some reading. The views from there were spectacular, and the sun was shining warmly on grateful locals and tourists alike.

Since then the sun has disappeared, and I'm still figuring out how to gauge the weather each day. I love getting to wear scarves and sweaters and crave hot tea but find that it's still warm enough that whatever layers I add become too warm in my twenty-minute walk to work. However, they're perfect once indoors and sitting beside a window that looks out to the overcast sky.

I'm continuing to enjoy my internship, especially getting to know the people better and catching the vision of Foodzie. I've lost track of the number of hours I have stared at photographs of food in the last two days! At least eight, surely.

Surprisingly, all those pictures of buttery shortbread and chocolate truffles haven't sent me on a sugar spree. Largely it has to do with my budget, of course, and also knowing I have enough things in my fridge that I should be eating. Fava beans, for example. I bought about seven fresh pods at the farmers market on Saturday, and have been itching to try them, since I've only ever eaten them dried.

Tonight's dinner came together around the concept of coating them in a bit of brown butter, and so I took my small batch of blanched and shelled legumes and tossed them in brown butter on half of my single pan while an egg cooked in the other half. The vibrantly green favas only needed a small amount of time in the pan, so I soon replaced them with a slice of Acme Bread's Whole Wheat Levain, to toast, and sprinkled Broncha goat cheese over the egg. Granted, it's not much to look at, but its homeliness holds a certain charm, I think. And, if at all relevant, it was quite tasty.

Here are a few shots taken inside my apartment as well as with half my body out the window.

Thanks for following in this journey, dear reader. I hope you enjoy the photographs and get something more from this blog than the narcissistic journal of a nomadic twenty-something year old. Certainly, that is not what it's supposed to be.

A New City

2009-07-17T20:46:00.010-07:00

It is quite difficult to backtrack just a week in my life and try to remember those sensations and activities because they are so very different from what I'm facing at present.

I spent last weekend wading through my belongings, sorting and simplifying, until I was down to two suitcases and a small box of winter clothes that got shipped to my mom's garage for future convenience. I struggled to enjoy this process, knowing I was missing precious time with friends who I needed to share some indefinite goodbyes with on Tuesday.

Tuesday afternoon I arrived in San Francisco, which I am embracing as my new home for the three weeks that I am here. This city is entirely different from Abilene, Texas, and I really don't think that statement requires any elaboration. You understand what I mean, right? Where are the gas-guzzling Ford pickups? And where did all the ethnic restaurants come from? All in all, I love it. I love that I can use my own two feet and the sidewalk to do errands or simply get from place to place and have innumerable companions. I love that I constantly hear snippets of conversations in different languages and, like tonight, encounter a man in full pirate attire - a plastic handled sword and all - simply crossing the street with his ordinarily dressed friends.

There are so many small details of my time in just the past three days that I would love to share, but I mainly want to talk about food and then close my eyes and get some sleep. Hopefully I'll be able to update this blog frequently to share the little moments too, but tonight you simply get an overview, my friend.

Foodzie has been an incredible place to intern and earn my last three university credits. I get to shoot photographs of food and help artisan food producers make their products available online, and through all of this, work with an incredibly intelligent, fun team. My first photos posted on a producer's site were granola bars by Olympic Granola, and they were easy to shoot because of their naturally aesthetic appeal (check out the strip of chocolate in the middle of the Mocha Mint one!) and delightful to sample in their post-photo-shoot state. I'd love to have a stock on hand for those times when a snack or breakfast on-the-go is necessary.

The Foodzie team and I went out for a spontaneous dinner at Delfina last night and enjoyed sitting outside on a gorgeous evening with good wine and satisfying pizza (my favorite was the broccoli raab). We also stopped by an event hosted by 18 Reasons, where I got to meet some more food-loving people.

The night was concluded with famous Bi-Rite ice cream, and I couldn't resist trying Sam's Sundae: chocolate ice cream with bergamot olive oil and sea salt on top with a dollop of whipped cream.

This evening we concluded the workweek at the ferry building over Humphry Slocombe's Salt & Pepper and White Miso Peach ice creams. They were both delightful in my opinion, possessing plenty of intrigue without sacrificing a fresh, subtly sweet flavor.

Tomorrow I'm taking my ol' 35mm to the farmers market bright and early and hoping to build up some good multiple exposure shots from my two rolls begun last week in Abilene. Fresh local fruits and vegetables seem like the perfect glimpse of San Francisco to add to these rolls of film that are traveling with me for the next two months. Can't wait to share the results!

Paintings For Sale

2009-07-09T23:05:00.007-07:00

This is me scrambling a bit as I try to lighten my load before leaving Texas.

My final project for my drawing class was these three paintings that I did in acrylic paint on 40 in. x 15 in. masonite boards. They were very enjoyable to do, from the beginning stages of hunting around this house I've been staying in and capturing cropped snapshots of it. The problem is, I really don't want to pay to have them mailed to my mom's garage.

So, if you are at all interested and live around here, please let me know...and if you don't live around here but would like one, or two, or three, we can simply add the shipping cost onto the total. They are relatively light and painted black along the sides of their frames, so they are ready to be hung.

That's all for now. I have packing to do!

Looking a Bit Closer

2009-07-09T23:05:00.006-07:00

If it wasn't one o'clock in the morning, this would be a longer post. And if I had a fancier camera, I'd have a photo of the stars. Even better, stars slightly blurred from moving while on a bicycle. That's how they looked as I biked home from sweet time spent with friends tonight.

Instead, I have the simple photo, above, that I took from a detail within "our" house (my friend and I are house sitting, remember?). While simple, it also seems to be a beautiful highlight of the details to be found in Abilene, if I just take the time to look a bit closer.

Friends and Chocolate

2009-07-08T20:35:00.006-07:00

It is a widely known fact that I did not move back to Abilene two years ago for the scenery. It wasn't the art department that wooed me either. It was a certain few relationships that I just had a hunch needed more time and investment because they were worth at least that.

Tonight, standing and then eventually sitting around the kitchen of this house that has brought four somewhat random girls together, I loved the reminder that there are relationships I'm taking with me that I could have never predicted.

For a simple belated birthday celebration for one of my house mates, I made these cupcakes tonight. My other house mate and I surprised the birthday girl with a single candle stuck in the middle of one and a rather sloppily harmonized rendition of "Happy Birthday".

The recipe was excellent, and it was a lot of fun to do some baking and shoot photos at a leisurely pace along the way as I haven't been able to do that for a while. However, I will comment that if you decide to go the cupcake route with this recipe, definitely use muffin tin liners. The cake's crumb is wonderfully tender and moist but makes for some rough looking cupcake bottoms without them. Also, it called for a hefty amount of baking soda, and I'm a bit skeptical that the full amount is necessary. I feel like it contributed a slightly tinny flavor, though my friends didn't notice.

Oh, and disregard my runny ganache. I simply didn't have heavy whipping cream, so I subbed half & half and barely had time to bring it to room temperature before using. The flavor worked out just fine, though the presentation was less impressive than PaperSeed's.

Go on over to her blog if you're interested in the recipe:
Chocolate Buttermilk Layer Cake

And More to Come

2009-07-07T21:06:00.002-07:00

While I didn't take these pictures today, I did manage to finally get them scanned into the computer this afternoon.

They remind me so much of Texas. Just look at that grass-less yard! But, because I'm challenging myself to think positively about this place in my remaining time (and it's refreshingly not that hard), I want to highlight more than the brown color of the ground.

First of all, these pictures are polaroids, which automatically earn some affection in my heart, and they were taken in this lovely family's backyard. I was experimenting with polaroid art (in this case, simply drawing on top of the film as it developed), and my uncle helped in the exploration as my mom watched, on one of her rare visits to Texas. The collaborative effort, bright colors, and remembrance of children at play make these photographs worth posting here tonight as I sit in a large house under and even larger star-sprinkled Texas sky.

I will hold fast to the memories I've formed in this state.

In Order to Remember

2009-07-06T20:46:00.006-07:00

As I wrap up my time in Abilene, I want to highlight the more beautiful things of this place because often times it's easier for me to point out the ugly, or at least the areas of lacking.

To begin with:

This is in the bathroom I have adopted as my own while housesitting with a friend for the past month. The window on the long wall of the shower floods light into the room all day long, and in the mornings the combination of sunlight, white tile, and aqua wall paint makes me oh so happy...or at least it helps a bit in those early a.m. hours when I would prefer to still be in bed.

Something New

2009-06-21T10:30:00.007-07:00

Those of you who read One Hungry Soul because you know me personally may be interested to know that I started a new blog about a week ago. It is to chronicle the next phase of my life once I hold the long-anticipated title of "college graduate."

In mid September I'm hoping to move to Auckland, New Zealand and you can read all the details over on this blog:

I do not plan on phasing out One Hungry Soul any time soon. There will be plenty to share between the time I leave Abilene next month and depart for NZ. I'll be spending a month in California, mostly in San Francisco, and almost a month more in Washington. Even beyond that, I am planning on maintaining this blog with the topics of photography and food and life-beauty.

If you want a more detailed perspective on my life in New Zealand, I'll be sharing what I'm learning and how I'm growing in more intimate details over on my new blog. Otherwise, stay tuned right where you're at. I cannot wait to capture the beauty of the little country of the kiwi bird through my viewfinder.

Dinner and an ode

2009-06-13T16:55:00.006-07:00

I'm staying in a big, creaky house with a blue dining room and antique light fixtures in each room. It's a lovely change of scenery, but I have yet to transfer my digital camera over here. So, tonight, as I ate my steamed artichoke and the stripped leaves piled up in a blue and white hand-painted Polish bowl, I couldn't snap a picture to share with you. Along with a balsamic-spiked mayo dip, cold beer, and book of American poetry, it was quite a picturesque, albeit quaint, experience.

Here's a set of polaroids to share with you instead:

I took them in April while visiting my uncle and his family. I was immediately enchanted by the old bench with peeling paint tucked up against their back fence, and may this blog post transition into a bit of an ode to them. They are currently driving from Texas to Nebraska, having (heroically) packed up ten years of living in one house with three young children to boot.

It was such a gift to get to know them better, being that so much of my family is spread apart and when it comes down to it, most cousins, aunts, and uncles fall into the acquaintance category. Their home quickly became an oasis of familiarity in this foreign land known as Texas.

J, A, K, A, & W: Thank you for that. I'm glad I don't have to spend too much more time in this state without you guys, even if it was just knowing you and your espresso machine were three hours away.

Could This Be Love?

2009-06-05T16:17:00.005-07:00

I wrote this story for a class, but the assignment was to submit it in a writing competition. I did just that and never heard back. Coming across it in my files earlier this week, I decided it's time to share it. After all, it was written to be read. Besides, the photograph it addresses always seems to be a hit with viewers. And, not to be smug, but even I never get sick of looking at it.

Could This Be Love?

My latest love affair is of the unconventional sort — like a couple kissing in a public square, it makes some people entirely uneasy. But I’ve got a thing for adventure. I like change. I like it extreme, often, and preferably with an exotic accent.

So it was that two years ago, while studying for a semester in Oxford, England, I was romanced by a new land. Personified, my England experience was my dream man. He first caught my attention with the words, “Cheers, Love.” (This was before I figured out that he spoke such words to countless other women.) But I was still hopelessly smitten walking through Port Meadow’s quiet sloping pasture and along the River Thames. The fact that from there dear Mr. Union Jack introduced me to fair trade chocolate at an Oxfam charity shop only worsened my condition. Not to mention the drizzly days spent at cafés with my hands wrapped around a cappuccino, trying to etch his features into my mind as the many faces of England passed me by.

Too dreamy? Perhaps. But I like to get carried away with filling in the gaps in other people’s stories, and Mr. Union Jack just made that easy to do. He also laid the ground for a photo opportunity I will probably never get again.

One evening a friend and I were eating our dinner while sitting on the ledge of a fountain in Trafalgar Square. We had taken a day trip to London and were enjoying the warm September sun when I looked beyond Katie’s shoulder to the tall stone wall encircling the square. A young couple caught my attention. As they leaned close and touching each other's face, his all-black attire blended into hers, making their entangled body parts indistinguishable.

It was hardly an unexpected sight in such a large, metropolitan city, but what made my gaze linger was another couple sitting an uncomfortably close two feet away.

Likely in their seventies, husband and wife sat next to each other wearing shades of white and khaki except for her red vest. The old woman appeared silent and thoughtful next to her bearded, potbellied companion who seemed absorbed in the paper he was reading. She must have grown bored because she began to take note of her surroundings, namely those sharing her bench.

As Katie and I continued to eat our dinner, I noticed the old woman begin to glance sideways at the affectionate youths. Her husband’s head remained bent forward, but the wife’s curiosity only seemed to grow as her gaze lingered longer and longer.

Perhaps at this point she was thinking of her own grandchildren and worrying about the indecencies they might be performing in another square or park at this moment. Or, I like to think, she was taken back to her own young love. To the times when her and her husband would sit in a similar position, with her legs crossed over his, made oblivious to the world by their love. When they were so attracted to each other that the whole world knowing about it was a desirable exciting concept that led conventions and etiquette to be thrown out the window.

Then, just as the old woman’s wizened face turned toward the younger couple again, I leaned around my friend with camera in hand, zoomed in a bit, and clicked. Perfect.

Back in Oxford with the picture uploaded on my computer, I saw that it had turned out as well as I hoped. Except for a lack of crispness because of the necessary zoom, it became my favorite picture from my travels. The red on the woman’s vest popped out as the only color in a stark palette of black and white and grey. Her husband sat hunched forward beside her, focused on the paper in his hand. And then there’s the couple on her right. Entirely black except for a pair of white skater shoes with green laces and two profiles bent toward one another, they tell a story all their own.

At this point, though, it is the old woman’s story that becomes clearer. The look of unease on her face is hard to miss, and the likelihood that this experience is causing her to fondly reminisce is slight.

Still, I like to dream. I like to see the unexpected adventuresome side of people come out. And since I have no love story of my own at present, I channel my adventure and my passion into life experiences, preferably in different geographic locations.

I had my fling with Oxford, which I’m still hoping will one day rekindle itself as something more. Then I flew home to my Bellingham, in the far northwest corner of Washington State. The city of my adolescence, I have fallen more in love with him in my time away. I see Mr. B. Ham as the young man who faithfully waits on my front porch. He loves the rain and good coffee and thrift store cardigans. Every time I leave him it’s so hard to explain the “it’s not you; it’s me” line. I just don’t know for sure what’s good for me, and I want to keep a lookout.

Life’s short. And yet there’s so much of it to be lived, and I’m just not ready to settle down with any particular person or place yet. Maybe it’s the old woman’s face that haunts me. Her loss of enthusiasm for carefree daring and passion…is that the look I’ll be giving as I sit next to my oblivious husband when my hair has turned white and my "flings" have faded away? No, I determine here and now that it is not. As much as I desire to be continually romanced by land and sea, there is a unique passion that weathering joy and difficulty with another person brings which I want to hang onto until the day I die.

Just melt and flake and crumble

2009-05-15T19:43:00.010-07:00

Last weekend I got one of the best gifts ever. It was especially, well, special because the Foodzie mail I was expecting was a work assignment. Though that was still an exciting prospect, finding a note of thanks and encouragement from my team over at Foodzie and an assortment of goodies was a wonderful surprise. They had sent me a finals week care package full of treats from La Cocina!

Just an recap if you missed my post a while back...I've been interning remotely for Foodzie, a San Francisco based company passionate about seeing artisan food producers and growers succeed while also helping food lovers find the unique items they're looking for. I love what they do and who they are, and apparently others have noticed too because they were recently recognized by BusinessWeek among the Best Young Tech Entrepreneurs of 2009!

So, when I opened the box and zig-zaggy strips of stuffing began to fall out and reveal cookies, preserves, and glorious nuts, I stopped to grab my camera. I knew this would be a blog-worthy subject.

I spent the next half hour (at least) opening each package and placing its contents on my coffee table facing the afternoon sunlight. Sometimes nibbling was required to get a more interesting photo, so I got to try a little taste of each treat as I went.

I hope to share with you many of these delicious goodies available from La Cocina, but tonight I only have time for one. It is the one that ended up disappearing completely by the end of the photo shoot. Though everything was memorable in its own right, I kept coming back to this buttery shortbread cookie.

So much more than a cookie, Clairesquares' take on Millionaire's shortbread, or a Wellington -- its name in her native Ireland -- is addictive to say the least. Each layer could stand on its own (if you're into dipping your finger into straight caramel or licking a surface of pure Belgian chocolate). The shortbread might be more polite to consume alone. Just snag some fresh off the cooling rack in Claire's kitchen. I wish I could myself; it really did just melt and flake and crumble all at once in my mouth like truly decent shortbread should.

This cookie is available in each of La Cocina's sampler boxes, which are perfect for treating yourself to a variety of artisan producers' creations or expressing a heart-felt thank you to a friend. From smallest to largest, you can choose the Teaspoon Box, Half-Pint Box, Quart-Sized Box, or Stock-Pot Box.

A moment of honesty

2009-05-12T17:06:00.004-07:00

I took the polaroid in this shot in a moment of honesty tonight, and sharing it with you makes me a bit more vulnerable than I usually allow myself on this blog. Still, I'm going to press on. Sometimes saying things out loud (or putting them in print, in this case) helps the reality sink in, and then gradually the acceptance...

I do not often express my desire to one day drop the "single" label. Even privately, I so rarely allow myself to dwell on it that sometimes I wonder if I really do want to be in a serious relationship, married, etc. I loath the thought of being labeled as "desperate" and would prefer to err on the other extreme.

But tonight, as I sat down to a simple meal of salmon and carrots, all quickly cooked up in a skillet with garlic and a drizzle of honey, I really wanted someone to share these sorts of meals with. Nothing fancy, just straightforward, bright, nourishing flavors that can be appreciated by two (and eventually more).

Not now, but someday.

I like the thought of him helping me eat through a bundle of asparagus from the market before they start to have a rubbery bend. I like knowing that there will be someone to share a bottle of wine with on a regular ol' weeknight because it's such a waste to open a bottle for just one.

The realist in me has to add that I recognize I just highlighted two rosy parts of a relationship. I know there's so much more.

I'll get back to you when I have a real-life story to tell.

Not so much the norm

2009-05-11T17:28:00.003-07:00

Looking back on my childhood kitchen, many items passed over my blissful blonde head and into our pantry that I assumed were the norm in every household. Turns out that throwing around words like carob, rice milk, and millet doesn't get such casual reactions from seven and eight year olds. Generally the reaction is huh? or weird.

This case against my mother's grocery selection often got confused for personal attacks in my sensitive little child brain, but with time I grew into it. I began to like that my family was different and that I could entertain my friends simply with a tour of our refrigerator and the kitchen cupboards. We even developed a mischievous little game in the kitchen when we moved back to the States from New Zealand. It involved unscrewing a jar of a rich, chocolaty-brown spread, dipping in the tip of a table knife, and letting the food's color (falsely) speak for itself as we encouraged our poor, unsuspecting friends to take a lick of exotic "Vegemite" (or Marmite; both rotated through our house).

That really was cruel. I'm surprised we had any friends at all! It must have been my mom's redemptive zucchini muffins and rhubarb coffeecakes that kept them coming back.

The thing is, we ate wonderfully. And wonderfully healthily is the even better part. My parents desired to train my three siblings' and my palette for fresh, healthy, delicious food from the get-go.

Today I can look back with gratitude on all those mornings of oatmeal and not crave one bite of Lucky Charms or Rice Krispies. Especially when memories of hot, creamy millet sweetened by dates and enlivened with coconut and toasted bits of almond come to mind. Even as an adult, this is what I wake up craving most mornings.

Breakfast Millet with Dates, Coconut, and Almonds
Still trying to get background on this recipe - my mom has had it for many years.

In a medium saucepan, combine:
2 cups water
1/2 cup millet
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup unsweetened coconut

When water boils, turn down to a simmer. Cover and cook for 20-25 minutes, or until the water has just been absorbed and the grains are soft. Remove from heat.

Stir in:
1/2 cup chopped dates
1/4 cup toasted almonds

Beginning and ending with roasted bananas

2009-05-09T19:02:00.001-07:00

I'm making some goals for myself this summer. It's actually turning into quite a long list, but my reasons behind every single thing have come back around to wanting to free up my time and my mind. I want room and energy for spontaneity and investment in friendships. This means that I have to add some things to my daily routine and clear some things out.

So, there will be more journalling to ensure that I'm addressing what's going on in my head and heart. And there will certainly be more yoga and more running. Conversely, there will be no movie or (online) T.V. show watching in my downtime. I can share those experiences with friends or seek relaxation through napping, reading, or walking.

There will also be no baking. I'm a bit ashamed of how difficult this one is looking. My footnote to this goal is that I'm free to bake with or specifically for friends. But "just for the heck of it" is out. A big reason is that it's just not economical to fire up an oven in summertime, when the air conditioner is already running, attempting to fight off the West Texas heat. Secondly, baking can require a lot of time and energy and can become a bit compulsive of a "need" for me, so I want to force a break upon myself.

In honor of this goal, I give you what may be my last baked good (till August, anyway). This week I have been watching three bananas in my fruit basket getting browner by the day, so when I decided to bake a farewell/thank you gift for a friend, something banana-y was an obvious choice. Heading over to one of my favorite food blogs, 101 Cookbooks, I was surprised to find a recipe in Heidi's archives that I hadn't seen before. The concept of using roasted bananas instantly caught my attention, and I decided to go for it with a few modifications.

Chocolate is almost always a more crowd-pleasing ingredient than raisins, and I have had a bar of Ghiradelli 60% hanging around for a while. Tossing that in with the pumpkin seeds, I decided that a hint of cumin or garam masala would be a nice addition (I'm out of cumin, so why don't you try it and get back to me?). Equally subtle, I sprinkled a mixture of turbinado sugar and coarse flakes of sel gris, or grey salt, on top of the muffins before sliding them into the oven.

I spread a bit of butter over a muffin this morning and sat down with a cup of tea for breakfast. I really like how these came out, combining savory flavors like garam masala, pumpkin seeds, and course salt with chocolate and bananas. The added weight of whole wheat flour made downing chocolate at 9:30 A.M. a perfectly natural action.

Roasted Banana Muffins
with Pumpkin Seeds, Chocolate, & Sel Gris
Adapted from Stephan Pyles's Southwestern Vegetarian, as posted on 101 Cookbooks

2 ripe bananas, unpeeled
2 cups flour (I used 1 cup white whole wheat, 1 cup all purpose)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon garam masala
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1/2 cup unsweetened almond milk (cow's milk or other milk alternative is fine)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup toasted pumpkin seeds (or preferred seeds/nuts)
3 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped (or a generous 1/2 cup of chocolate chips)
Turbinado sugar for topping
Sel gris (or other course salt) for topping

Makes 16 muffins.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Place bananas on a cookie sheet (or in a metal cake pan), and bake for about 12 minutes. The kitchen should smell of banana and their skins will be black and have started to seep. Remove from oven and set aside to cool.

Whisk flour(s), baking powder, baking soda, salt, and garam masala in a small mixing bowl. Set aside.

Squeeze the bananas' flesh out of their skins and into a small mixing bowl. Add almond milk and vanilla and mash together.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, or a bowl big enough to be used with an electric hand beater, cream the butter and sugar on medium speed. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating thoroughly between each one.

Now add half the banana mixture to the electric mixer bowl and blend thoroughly on low speed. Add half the four mixture and mix until combined as well. Add the remaining banana mixture, blend thoroughly, and then ad the remaining flour mixture. Mix only to the point that the ingredients are combined. Fold in pumpkin seeds and chopped chocolate or chocolate chips.

Spoon batter into greased or lined muffin tins. Sprinkle the tops of each with a pinch of turbinado sugar and a pinch of sel gris.

Bake in the oven for about 18 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool on a rack for five minutes. Invert muffin tin onto cooling rack, turn muffins upright, and allow them to cool completely (or dive in with some butter while their centers are still warm enough to soak it in!).

Paintbrush strokes

2009-05-07T18:53:00.004-07:00

I have never attempted to write a blog post after 36 consecutive waking hours, but there's a first for everything, right? If these thoughts fall flat or abruptly stop altogether, I blame the sleep deprivation. At least my teeth are brushed and my face is washed...I'm prepared; no mascara on the pillow case tonight.

At this point, my mind is too busy for sleep. I just finished my ninth and final semester of college (the quantity of classes I'm taking this summer will count as another full semester, but I don't want to think about that now). I want to reflect back before I move forward.

So I'm going to take us way back this evening, to not just my first day of college but my first day, ever, of school. I was headed off to Standard 1 at St. Heliers School in Auckland, New Zealand. I know what I wore that day because we have a picture, but I remember those first few minutes of saying goodbye to my mom and sidling up to Mrs. Bourke without any documentation.

From there glimpses of my year and a quarter at St. Heliers are disjointed flashes of remembrance, at best. The way Julia's ponytail swung so proudly, high atop her head, as we ran across the playground. The way Tim Glatt's long eyelashes made me feel giggly. Field day events in our gym uniforms: white shorts and light blue t-shirts. Singing New Zealand's national anthem at assemblies in our dark, closterphobic gym. Sliding down a wet slope during recess, my leg going under a fence, and earning a scar down my right shin.

There are many random (and relevant memories) stored within me from my four formative years in New Zealand, yet I know so many things are lost. As I considered this attitude and response I gained from never getting to go back and visit NZ in the past fifteen years, I wanted to capture a snapshot of what I presently feel like life was like there, acknowledging that I bring glamorized biases and nostalgic innocence and my own degree of imagination to make up for what I lack in vivid memory. So, here you have the first of my paintings from my final series in Painting II this semester...

The second piece in the series ended up being a lot different from the first. I took my experiences and relationship with Bellingham, WA, the place I lived from ages eight to eighteen, and attempted to capture my present response to these memories and landmarks. Instead of childhood innocence, you get some adult realism. While beautiful objects do exist, their presence is disputed by the the choice of moody, gloomy colors. It's supposed to be sad and yet also beautiful. An uncomfortable mixture of both. A response I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with in real life...

And the lines across both paintings? -- they are road lines I pulled forward on the surface as I finished out the paintings to explain my composition and emphasize a sense of place through further complexity and layering.

[05/08: 14 hours later...I just woke up half an hour ago. My neck's a little stiff, but the rest of my body is thanking me for much needed rest. I started writing these last few lines while falling asleep last night, so I figured it would be wise to hold off on publishing until I was more cognitive...]

I just wanted to share where much of my time and thought have been in the last month. I'd love to hear which painting you respond to more and any other reactions you have. These paintings are 2.5' x 4', acrylic on masonite board.

Simplicity surprises

2009-05-05T21:09:00.004-07:00

Sometimes the simplest things bring happiness. Like meyer lemons. And polaroid film.

I love it when simplicity surprises. I didn't think much of this shot when I took it, but seeing it on my computer screen tonight, I'm quite pleased.

What do you think? Do the colors please you like they do me?

High time

2009-04-25T18:58:00.008-07:00

It's awful to go without something perfectly good and healthy that you love. I do not enjoy becoming so devoted to one thing that all of life starts to turn in its direction. I can almost sense a funnel-like cascade as the planes that my relationships, my writing, my resting, and my other interests/priorities sit on tilt downward in unison toward a central hole that has swallowed them up. That deep, dark hole isn't so bad on it's own plane, but I've had to bring school to the smack dab center of my life of late.

I don't mean to paint this shift as being pure misery. I'm so grateful that I can say I've kept my sanity and maintained some peace-of-mind. If there wasn't an end in sight (now only two weeks!), you might need to be more worried about me.

As the weeks without finding time to blog slipped by, I resigned myself to waiting till after finals. After all, I've been making other sacrifices to meet my requirements; this seemed fitting too. But, I find myself here on Saturday night -- another weekend night, just me and my computer -- and my mind is whirring and my fingers are itching to type, so I'll watch the clock, but I'll also spill a little something out into the blogosphere. It's high time. I've missed this place.

I'm reading Molly Wizenberg's (a.k.a. Orangette's) book, A Homemade Life, and I'm sure that has something to do with my yearning for good words. She is a phenomenal writer, and I have been, fittingly, gobbling up each chapter that she vividly constructs through stories and recipes.

Whether or not you spend much time in the kitchen, I believe the autobiographical story she weaves through these pages is capable of thorough enjoyment. Her vulnerability is stunning. She does not hold back on the subjects of love and loss.

I received the book as a birthday present and am about halfway through. Surely, if guilt didn't hound me about doing anything but holding a paintbrush in my hand or researching female furniture designers of the mid twentieth century, I would be done with the book and working my way through each recipes by now.

There is one recipe that I already got to try. I brought the book, with a barely creased spine, on a mini vacation to visit my uncle and his family during Easter break. Being that our conversations and activities often fall into the category of food whenever I am there, I knew it would be fitting to share the book. That first night my uncle was scanning through it and spotted Molly's recipe for Custard-Filled Cornbread. Apparently another one of my uncles has a similar recipe that he loads up with raspberries, and so this uncle decided we ought to compare over breakfast the next morning.

It ended up being his comparison more than ours. It would have been too much for our small company to make two batches of cornbread, so we happily ate while he tried to jog his memory at the breakfast table and comment on the results.

I don't know what I'm missing from my uncle Jonathan's recipe, but I can tell you that Molly's is lovely. Surely, a kinder adjective can't be bestowed on creamy, slightly sweet cornbread served up with coffee and a pool of maple syrup while the morning sunlight is still strong. Lovely is just what it ought to be.

I can't make any promises of when I'll be back, but if I'm lucky, two whole weeks won't go by. If they have, though, you will encounter a different voice. One that is light and free and so ready for long conversations and lounging in the sun. I know the day will come. For now, I'm glad that I'll be able to look back and know that I gave my all in these last weeks of my last semester of undergrad.

Glimpses from a holiday

2009-03-24T19:33:00.004-07:00

I planned to blog this weekend. But then, I also planned to go to class today. Neither happened, and I don't have any fabulous reasons for you as to why it just wasn't possible. But, because I didn't blog -- and because I didn't go to class -- I got to spend some valuable time with friends on Saturday night, check off my to-do list, and, today, still had the energy at 5:15 to grab my yoga mat and go workout at a time when I'm usually ready to flop on my bed and close my eyes for a few minutes of precious rest. Sometimes trade offs are worthwhile, even if there is now a big paint canvas calling my name from the art building.

I'm going to go ahead and backtrack a couple weeks and fill you in on the rest of my spring break. It's worth remembering and sharing. Like I mentioned before, I started out in Lubbock and got to soak up time with my uncle and his family, whom I rarely see. I just can't get enough of those little cousins. They put up with my annoying photo-op demands quite well.

The second half of the week was spent in San Antonio. While there, my adopted Hispanic grandmother threw a birthday party for my friend's dad, and it was an event to remember. With all the cheek kissing and margarita drinking and endless streaming of people into the house (all claiming to be related to each other) it was a naturally chaotic, enjoyable time.

I baked a Guinness Chocolate Cake as my contribution, and it disappeared so quickly that even the 51-year-old birthday boy missed out. But, then, it did have an amazing Guinness Buttercream just begging to have a finger dug into it. And then, with evidence of a greedy finger on a slice of cake in full view, you can't very well just leave it sitting there. It belongs on a plate with a ready fork in your fist at that point, right?

On the morning of the party day, I made a quick trip to Austin and got to meet the people behind Foodzie. Despite the distracting location of our rendezvous, I was so glad to make face-to-face contact with those I work with on a daily basis via my computer. I'm still interning for them and find my culinary imagination whirring as I copy, edit, and write about chocolate truffles and intriguing pickles and olive oil infusions.

So, between my hours seeking out free wireless connections around San Antonio to "be a foodzie," eating homemade Puerto Rican rice and beans, and hitting up the shops that Abilene will only ever dream of having, I still managed to pull out my camera. I had a very willing model on hand, so I sent her out into the cold with a pile of scarves around her neck and bare toes on concrete one day.

Another day I grabbed some eyeliner and headed beyond the corner of her eye, onto her cheek and down her neck with the freeing feeling that I was finally able to do what I always got in trouble for growing up (I have a distinct memory of a friend and I drawing on our faces with cheap, bad-smelling make up once...her mom officially drew the line when nail polish started going on the cheeks and nose).

So, this was my spring break. Somehow the Guinness Chocolate Cake never made it into my camera's viewfinder, but this just leaves an excuse to make it again sometime. You know, for official documentation.

That canvas is still calling me, but it's too late into the night to respond now. I think I'll give some love and care to the blank sheet of linoleum on my bedroom floor. I swear it's sending messages of neglect my way.

Polaroid love (and repairs)

2009-03-18T16:43:00.004-07:00

I have a short one for you today, friends, but I intend to come back with a proper scoop on the rest of my spring break. Such time-consuming things will just have to wait till the weekend. I'm sure excited to show you the photos I took while away!

For now, let's give some attention to the present. Today was a hard day. Thinking back to yesterday, though, I landed on my pillow last night with a very contented sigh, so I'm thankful for the joys experienced. They are sweet reminders in difficult times.

Someday soon I'll probably share what's going on, but it's best to wait till there's a cleaner, more concise answer. Too many variables and unknowns right now.

I was keeping this short...remember?

So today I want to share about my "new" polaroid camera. I finally started fiddling with it this afternoon (a sure way to lift my spirits is to put a camera in my hands!) and discovered this precious old thing has an automatic flash that won't turn off.

Of all the silly things. Really.

I abhor flashes, likely because I've seen them used in so many wrong ways, and I don't know how to confidently use them in the right way. So, after taking a couple shots and cringing at the effect of that damn flash, I took the black insert that was ejected when I loaded the film, cropped it down, and hardily taped it over the flash. Perfecto!

Below is my customized non-flash polaroid camera, and at the top of this post is my favorite shot from the day. Cheers.

And I love the times

2009-03-09T12:13:00.006-07:00

I'm sitting in a crowded coffee shop in Lubbock, Texas, tuning out the loud conversations around me with a mix of voices on my iTunes. I'm escaping a little further.

It's spring break. That infamous week-long party that comes with college life, but I have this theory that my school scheduled it early this year just so we couldn't join forces with anyone beyond our fellow classmates. Not that I'm disappointed. I simply don't have any interest.

I've escaped from Abilene for a few days and that's exhilarating in itself. I'm sipping my fair share of my uncle's home-bottled wine and beer while playing soccer with his kids and talking with his wife about the endless family news that comes with having nine aunts and uncles. And now I get to be in a little coffee shop with the scent of espresso absorbed into the walls and half of a banana muffin on a plate before me. This is all indeed a luxury in a schedule that has booked my life with attending classes, working, studying for those classes, and interning online. I even got to go out for a run/walk this morning for an hour. Phew.

It's nice to have room to breathe.

Not that enjoyment is sucked out of life while in my regular routine. By no means. I love the art that I get to do for "homework," even if it does sometimes require energy I don't seem to have. I love bringing a new batch of photos into my photography teacher to hear his encouragement and receive his critiques. I love every single person I work with in my university's little Study Abroad Office. And I love the times I get with friends on the weekends and (very occasional) weekday.

Last Sunday afternoon happened to be one of those times. It was a beautifully sunny day and a friend was scheduled to stop by to cut my roommate's hair, so I decided to whip up something comforting, slightly sweet, and pretty enough for plenty of lingering-over.

I have been wanting to try the Nutmeg Doughnut Muffins in Molly of Orangette's recipe archive for some time now, but the timing never seemed right. For one, I was not raised with the concept of a "right time" for doughnuts, so that word in the recipe title kept throwing me. I loved the idea of the nutmeg and the look of powdered sugar dusted across the surface, but the word doughnut was always supposed to come with a cringe growing up. While I will surely act more graciously in the presence of those outside my immediate family circle, after my few rebellious experiences with them at childhood friends' homes, I, too, have concluded that doughnuts don't do much for me. Now and then I can appreciatively nibble on one, but they rarely spur a craving.

All that to say, last weekend I found myself scanning over this recipe and finding ways to trim it up a bit so it would leave me feeling less like the average doughnut does...greasy, heavy, and remorseful. Besides, I knew Molly's taste buds did not tend toward that direction either, so there had to be something to these muffins. I pressed on.

I used the last of my oat flour, which cut out a little of the all-purpose. I substituted coconut milk for the whole milk. And I cut back on the butter and sugar applied to the outside. What came out of the oven was delicious. It had a greater complexity to it than I imagine the original does, with ever-so-subtle scents of coconut and oats. Each muffin was light, fluffy, and cozy in all its nutmeg-y goodness. They didn't even need the powdered sugar coating, but I went ahead and put it on the tops of about half. It dressed them up a notch, and because I had cut two tablespoons of sugar out of the batter, the added sugar matched a mildly sweet crumb.

I better get over my "doughnut" word prejudice. Because I plan on sharing these with a lot more people.

Nutmeg Doughnut Muffins
Adapted from Orangette, who was inspired by Columbia City Bakery and adapted her own recipe from Kathleen Stewart of the Downtown Bakery & Creamery, Healdsburg, CA

Muffins:
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup oat flour
2 ½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
¾ cup plus 1 Tbs coconut milk (substitute water for the additional tablespoon if using full-fat coconut milk)
2 Tablespoons buttermilk (or 1 Tbs plain whole milk yogurt/1 Tbs water)
1 ½ sticks (6 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs

Topping:
3 Tablespoons unsalted buttter
1 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Grease 1-2 muffin tins (expect to make 12 muffins) or fill with muffin liners.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, oat flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg. Whisk together thoroughly, and then set aside.

Combine coconut milk and buttermilk in a measuring cup or small bowl, and set aside.

Place butter in the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment or in a large mixing bowl with an available electric beater. Beat until the butter is soft and creamy. With the motor running pour the sugar in a steady stream (or in small, gradual portions with the electric beater). Continue beating, scraping down sides, until the mixture increases in volume and lightens to pale yellow. Look for it to become light, fluffy, and creamy, like frosting. Then add the eggs, one at a time, until everything is just combined.

With a large spatula or wooden spoon, mix a fourth of the flour mixture into the butter mixture. Add a fourth of the coconut milk mixture. Continue to add the dry and wet ingredients alternately until everything is just incorporated. Do not overmix.

Spoon the batter into the cups of the muffin tin. Bake until they are just turning golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 25-30 minutes.

When the muffins are cool enough to handle, prepare the topping by melting the butter in the microwave or on the stovetop and measuring the powdered sugar into a deep bowl. Using a pastry brush, lightly brush the top of one muffin with butter and turn it upside down into the bowl of powdered sugar. (You may brush the whole surface with butter and roll it in powdered sugar if you prefer.) Shake off excess sugar and serve.*

These kept well for me for another two days, though they need to be in an airtight container. Also, Molly mentions that the batter can be kept in the fridge, covered, for up to three days.

Foodzie...and the Tangible Things of Life

2009-02-21T17:37:00.011-08:00

I try not to get too sentimentally attached to material things, but sometimes I don't catch myself until it's too late. Case in point: Trevor. Or how 'bout the Nalgene I've had since high school that's traveled across the Atlantic and Pacific with me? It has been the subject of at least four art projects.

Then there's my purse from Oxford's weekly market. My mom has been begging me to pack it away for at least a year now, referring to it as more of a rag than a bag. I left it in a suitcase at her place after Thanksgiving and have been missing it the whole while. (It has also inspired art projects.)

So I think I've sufficiently proven that I am in fact quite attached to some fleeting, materialistic things. But I really do like to think that when the time comes that they're no longer around, I'll remember the sweetness of their beauty in my life and the memories they hold that have brought me to this day and be able to smile and move on.

The purpose behind this post just led me through the above thoughts because as I sit here and type and think of how much time I have spent on this laptop in the past week, I realize another device is being written into a brief bit of my story too. It will always be remembered as the computer proceeding the one I fried with water at six in the morning. Surely, it carries remnants between its keys of most every recipe I've read offline in the last year. (Don't read that part, Kris.) But most importantly, it has been the focus of innumerable hours of my time.

Between my studies, iTunes playlists, communication beyond this town, and going to Google for the answers to all my curiosities, there's no escape. What's more, exciting things have been happening in my life that only find me getting closer to this scratched-up, paint-smudged laptop and its loosely hinged screen.

That said, I'm hanging onto this trusty ol' thing and sending thanks heavenward for the internship that I get to do through it. That's right. I said internship!

I finally come to the point of this post and am excited to share that I've been invited on board temporarily with an amazing company. Seeing that this company is in San Francisco, California, and I'm in Texas (so close to finishing my fifth and final year of undergrad that I finally decided to stop transferring) everything is being worked out so that I can intern online.

The wonderful people I am working with turn the wheels behind the company Foodzie. Sound good already? I knew you'd think so. I mean, it does have the word "food" in it.

But more than just being about food, Foodzie was founded out of a passion for seeing artisan producers and growers find a market as well as helping consumers who care about quality and uniqueness find what they're looking for.

For example, this week I was working with the content for "stores" that sell fragrant loose leaf tea, make gourmet chocolate and nut butter cups of the most enticing combinations, and honor the savory palette with aromatic, organic herb rubs. And these are mostly things to come! Go ahead and take a look at what is already on the shelves!

Foodzie's blog is also a fun way to learn about the products featured on their site and offers videos and recipes from their interactions with contributing producers. Two recent posts I have enjoyed include a recipe for Dungeness Crab Cakes with Meyer Lemon-Saffron Aioli and a feature on Sunchowder's Emporia and their fantastic sounding Ginger Zucchini Jam.

Starter and Chocolate

2009-02-16T18:42:00.003-08:00

Light and fluffy and subtly spiced, this chocolate cake was a perfect alternate recipe for my sourdough starter that needed some feeding and nurturing last week.

The sun had gone down by the time I inverted it out of its pan, so I don't have a shot of the chocolate ganache I poured on top. It was a gorgeous cake, though, if I do say so myself. Rather, the oohs and aahs of friends said it better.

My main comment would be that I was expecting some sort of sour-ish flavor underlying everything in the batter, and it wasn't there. Maybe that's a good thing, but I was curious what it would taste like nonetheless. If the idea of sourdough in your chocolate dessert sounds unappealing, then you'll still enjoy this recipe, because its taste or smell are not present at all. Just a nice lively fluff.

The lovely Molly posted this recipe a while back:
Sourdough Chocolate Cake

Sixth Folder, Sixth Photo

2009-02-12T18:49:00.006-08:00

This week has flown by, and I am a couple days behind on my promise to respond to Tori 's "Sixth Folder, Sixth Photo" tag.

I love the diverse concept of community and the many ways it can be found. I hardly expected to find one when I began blogging, but even the world wide web has fallen prey. No one wants to be alone (at least not entirely, always). And while it's different from anything face-to-face, the online community has its own value, and I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for people like Tori and Wendy who frequent my blog (as I do theirs) and others like Molly and Shauna who let us into their beautiful worlds.

So, as I said, this post is about a fun little tag I got from my fellow aspiring artist Tori. And this is how it goes: "Open the 6th picture folder on your computer, open the 6th photo and blog it. Write something about it. Then tag 6 more people to do the same."

This is my picture. It has a little "onehungrysoul" stamp on it from way back when I was worried enough about my pictures being taken and misused that I wanted to mark them. (I still care what people do with them, I just prefer to trust that most people won't cheat me. Oh, and it's a bother to stamp every single one.)

But the more important part of this picture is the subject, of course, which is a mug of frothy, bitter matcha tea goodness, still in motion from being swirled by the whisk standing on its end in the upper right corner.

I took this some time last year while drinking tea (and probably mochi and sweet red beans) with my roommate. This roommate of mine is a dear, sweet friend who I have had the opportunity to live with for two and a half (going on three) years. She has been to my home in Washington, and I have been to hers in Japan.

I am so grateful for Meiko's friendship, for everything I've learned from her, for the food we've enjoyed together, and the laughter we've doubled over trying to contain. Just as her mother (a.k.a. okaasan) considers me her American daughter, I've come to think of Meiko as my Japanese sister.

So, as is customary, I am tagging: Kelly, Michelle, Wendy, Anna, Sherri, and Brenna.

Family Time

2009-02-08T19:15:00.005-08:00

With my family spread around the country (and some around the globe), it's always special when I get to spend time with relatives.

It just so happens that the family I have in Texas is incredibly photogenic, outdoorsy, and entertaining...

And that's just my little cousins.

My aunt and uncle have a wonderful laid back hospitality and appreciation of good food. Evidence of our delicious meals is lacking here, but gyros, an apple German pancake, and sourdough waffles were all on the menu. Not to mention the delicious home-brewed beer that went with our Saturday night homemade pizza dinner.

Besides the mandatory bread-making time my uncle and I spent together, we also got to bottle some delicious raspberry mead and taste-test a prickly pear variety he had been storing in his bedroom closet until we got the acidly just right.

Here are the bottles after a sanitizing bath of their own.

Squares and Circles

2009-02-04T20:30:00.004-08:00

I did it. Tonight I made my first ever bid on Ebay. And I won.

Now I am the giddy owner (well, almost) of a polaroid camera. No more drooling over polaroid blogs or flickr albums for me; I get to join in the beauty of it all. Muted colors, fuzzy edges, oh joy.

In the meantime, I have narrowed my collection of photos through my zoom lens down to four that I'm going to turn in for my photography class. They're cropped in a square format (like polaroids, ironically) but are working with the circle within the frame.

The Swing of (New) Things

2009-02-02T21:10:00.011-08:00

Three days without blogging daily, and I feel like this discipline of mine could easily slip through my fingers. It's crazy how that happens sometimes.

Something compelled me to sit down and make the time for this post tonight, though, and so hopefully I'll adjust back into the swing of things.

This "something" was surely a combination of the desire to share an account of my weekend as well as follow through on my promise. That said, this weekend was wonderful. It was an escape away to a place that felt eerily like home at one moment (while wandering through Denton's small local natural food store, Cupboard) and uniquely Lauren in all other areas. She's a dear friend, and I'm always happy to frequent Mr. Chopsticks with her, sit down for a warm drink at Jupiter House, and take a long walk when we and our group of girl friends gather together in her hometown. It's what we do. And it makes me happy.

I don't want to go on and on about my happiness tonight though. Especially if it's of no benefit to you. Perhaps this will be a fair exchange:

I have two tried-and-true recipes for you.

Dinner tonight involved Swiss Chard with Raisins and Almonds and Niçoise Crêpes. It may sound fancy, but don't be fooled. The whole affair was quick and easy. And delicious.

One more thing before I say good night. I have a new blog! Its current purpose is to document a photography project I have started that I am very excited about.

It may not be much to look at right now, but some very interesting stuff is on its way. I'd love it if you stopped by! Here's the link:

Good Company

2009-01-29T21:25:00.004-08:00

I really need to work on my portrait photography skills.

You see, as good as this apple galette was, the company I shared it with was ten times better.

I have to say, this batch of pâte brisée was my third attempt in the past four or so months, and it finally came together well enough to serve without apologies.

I may not be so confident in my painting skills right now, and the details of early 20th century architecture and furnishings may be alluding me, but at least I can make a mean pâte brisée. So all is well with the world, right? Wrong, but let's just pretend for a moment.

This weekend I'm heading out of town, and I'm looking forward to the wonderful company I'll get to share, which I'm sure will be accompanied by wonderful food. But it's the people who will make each meal memorable.

I can't wait to see you, Lauren!

Heart Songs.

2009-01-28T22:08:00.003-08:00

Today I meant to share an exciting new project with you, but it will have to wait. I figure sleep is better than a press release at this point. Right?

Soon enough you'll know what I'm talking about.

In the meantime, Abilene's ice has melted. Here's my last bit of proof of it, taken while freezing my butt off on the cement stairs outside my apartment as I did some research for this new project (the one I'm so excited to tell you about!).

Oh, and I had a little photo shoot with my favorite ol' Honeywell because the lighting was beautiful and all those nobs and clicky sounding buttons make my heart want to sing.

In the Winter Chill

2009-01-27T20:08:00.006-08:00

My shoes crunched their way up the stairs to my front door tonight. Not because of dried leaves or snow but because a strange layer of whiteness has covered the land. It is not snow and it's not hail or sleet. Just fine shavings of ice that are unable to melt in the winter chill.

This very chill kept the temperature in the 20s today and called off all classes.

What better way to embrace winter weather at its truest, than making use of the oven, reading on a couch, and gazing outside through steamy windows at trees branches haloed by their icy encasement? And this is exactly what I did for the better part of the day.

This bread was an adaptation of an old standard. The only thing I did differently was to roll it out before shaping it into a loaf, then I rubbed it with a thin layer of butter and sprinkled cinnamon, cocoa, sugar, and raisins evenly across the top. I just rolled it up and tucked it into its loaf pan for one final rise from there. Delicious.

A Good Cake Indeed

2009-01-26T18:31:00.006-08:00

Yesterday I mentioned that I baked a cake, and I feel that I simply must bring it up again.

From the moment my eyes finished grazing the ingredient list, I knew I'd like it. So it only seemed appropriate to spend some time on Sunday afternoon baking a cake with my roommate, who is very eager to learn how to bake and has elected me as her know-it-all resource (eek!).

One of my favorite cakes has an almond flour base, so I knew Nigel Slater was on to something when he added pistachios and rosewater to his cake.

I know you might not all agree when you hear the word "rose water" (ahem, Mom, I'm thinking of you) because roses and lavender and such are supposed to be smelled and not digested, but I have been enjoying every drop of my bottle of rose water. And that's the key. Just a drop or a splash can add a sweet undertone to a dish. It reminds me of English tea gardens and baklava and lassi and corners of the world I'm wishing to see.

While I'm getting all dreamy, let me tell you about a dreamy book I've been thumbing through lately. It's Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries, and it earns its "dreaminess" through each turn of the sturdy warmly cream-colored pages. Photographs are smoothly printed in a matte finish throughout the book, and they include plenty of shots of Nigel's equally dreamy garden. The layout and font choices are clean and simple, which matches his casual and inviting writing style perfectly. Not to mention the recipes.

Oh, the recipes. Some of them, frankly, I don't think I'll ever attempt (no thanks, oxtail) but I've also been surprised to find myself drawn to a radish, mint, and feta salad (I'm still learning to appreciate radishes). And then there is a countless number of winners. From simple salads to pastas to trifles that make my mouth water, I'm reluctant to hand this book back over to my local library.

But let's not forget about that cake.

Rose and Pistachio Cake
Adapted from Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries

Serves 12.

Cake:
1/2 lb. (2 sticks) and 2 tablespoons butter
1 cup sugar (fair trade, please)
3 large eggs
2/3 cup shelled pistachios
2/3 cup ground almonds
2 small lemons
1/3 cup white grape juice
1-1/4 teaspoons rose water
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Icing:
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice (can be squeezed from lemons above)

Preheat oven to 325°F. Line the bottom of a non-stick 9-inch cake pan with parchment paper.

Prepare by grinding your pistachios into fine crumbs in a food processor (or in small qualities in a coffee grinder, as I did), and zest and squeeze your lemons dry.

Now, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating between each addition. Add almonds, pistachios, butter, and sugar to bowl and mix. Set aside 2 tablespoons of lemon juice for icing and add remaining amount along with white grape juice and rosewater to mixture. Lately, fold in flour with a large spoon or spatula.

Scoop mixture into the lined baking pan and bake for 45-50 minutes, covering lightly with foil for the last ten minutes.

Check cake by inserting skewer into center. If it comes out fairly clean, then take out and let it cool completely in the pan. Run a knife around the edge and turn it out.

For icing, sift sugar into lemon juice and mix together with a fork until smooth. Pour over cake and leave for half an hour to set.

Compromising

2009-01-25T21:04:00.003-08:00

I am telling you, I would be such a better student if my homework could be done in a kitchen. I tend to spend my spare hours in that room.

Maybe that's how food photography became a hobby of mine. Surely, making food is an art in itself, but the opportunity to satisfy a guilty conscience by also turning my energy toward photographic exploration has proved to be a good compromise.

Today this compromise worked out quite nicely. As I baked a cake with my roommate and persevered in the dream of a perfected pâte brisée, I took some shots from a new perspective. It reminds me of a shy little peek or an abstract promise (i.e. there is more to come, and it seems to be beautiful; the-whole-picture-just-doesn't-get-to-be-revealed-yet sort of thing).

What do you think?

Climbing on the Table

2009-01-24T21:59:00.000-08:00

I love it when pictures say enough that words aren't needed.

Tonight I have a picture taken from practically climbing on top of my friend's table around noon today. Sorry, Jess. I hope I'm still welcome in your home.

That's all. Sweet dreams. (More for me than for you, I guess, since you won't necessarily be reading this before slipping under the covers.)

Not Just Any Tripod

2009-01-23T16:28:00.005-08:00

I realized that my camera had sat in my drawer all day long when I looked out the window less than half an hour ago and the round yellow lights outside each apartment in my complex had started to glow.

The flood lights from the university's baseball field (just across the fence) defied the setting sun.

I took a look at the bowl of soup I had just warmed up and headed out onto the landing to take advantage of the last moments of daylight, but it was a struggle holding the camera steady enough in my hands. I ran inside for my trusty tripod and memories flooded back as I twisted the small device into the bottom of my camera.

This isn't just any tripod. It's plain and simple and probably cost me $5 at Fred Meyer, but it was purposefully bought in the weeks leading up to my college semester abroad. At nineteen years old I was gearing up for four months in Oxford, England and saying I was excited doesn't even begin to describe it.

Sure, life follows you wherever you go, and the trials it brings certainly found me in Oxford too, but that place was beautiful. It wasn't just the old brick homes, the cobblestones along Cornmarket, the slew of pedestrians that I kept company with on the sidewalks (politely ignoring each other, of course), or the lush green landscape maintained by drizzly rain (reminding me of home) that made it this way. It was the close friendships with my housemates and the more informal ones with my fellow volunteers at Oxfam. It was the adventure of surfacing from the underground in a new city (often across the Channel) and finding our way.

And it was specific moments like when my friend, Erin, and I spent sunset at the ruins of the Temple of Apollo. It sits on top of a hill off the coastline of the city of Naxos, on the island of Naxos, Greece, and the wind from the sea whips up and over it as the sun silently but dramatically sets in shades of pink and purple.

That particular night my little tripod came out of my purse once again so we could set up the self timer, huddle on the ground, and attempt to hold our hair down for the camera. It was at least the hundredth time we had chosen to entertain ourselves in this way since becoming friends back in Oxford, and along the way we had decided our faithful travel companion (yes, the tripod) deserved a name. I really don't know where it came from, but Trevor was one of our first ideas and it stuck.

Trevor the tripod.

Trevor continued to go everywhere with us, and we looked for opportunities to drop statements like, "I need some Trevor in my life" and other nonsense. Though the Trevors I've met (the people-type) haven't necessarily been tall, dark, and handsome, somehow the little tripod took on that persona.

So tonight I just thought I'd introduce you to Trevor. He helped me get this shot of my cup of soup, after all. And it's meant just for you.

Underneath the Table

2009-01-22T19:57:00.005-08:00

It was another sunny day.

Around noon, my roommate and I had the luxury of some downtime to sit in the living room together and randomly started digging into a box scooted tightly underneath the end table. I don't know what we expected to find but certainly not what came out...

A map of Indonesia*. (Okay, cool. Bright colors. Geography. We like this.)

A travel book on Indonesia. (The cover was bold and plain with early '90s coloring. But why Indonesia?)

Another book, this one entitled Ideas and Realities of Islam. (Seriously. Who was stalking this country?)

And, lastly, a Bible in Indonesian.

So unless someone comes back for this map, we're keeping it. The books...? Well, there's not a country in the world I wouldn't mind going to, but right now I'm focusing my energy more southeast of Indonesia. (Hint, hint! More to come.)

Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy seeing the new company on our couch. Until we figure out where to hang him, Indonesia's staying propped right there.

I don't think we'll keep the books out on the coffee table, though. It might look a bit shrine-like.

*1/23/09: I confess ignorance here. I just assumed this map was of one of the main islands of Indonesia when I saw it...I was picturing Sumatra in my head, though I didn't know its name at the time. It only took one look at a map of Sumatra to know I was wrong, and so after some googling this morning, I have some more accurate information for you. Apparently "my" map is of an island off Sumatra. It is called Pulau Nias...which would make sense with the word "Nias" (another name for the island) in big, bold all-caps at the top of the map. :)

Little Corner

2009-01-21T20:39:00.002-08:00

The golden sunlight was too inviting this evening.
(Staying inside just wouldn't do.)
I happened upon a favorite little corner of this world,
but I only have a glimpse to offer you tonight.

Next time I won't let the whirring wash machine pull me away,
and you'll understand why this place helps me breathe
when I am pitying myself in Abilene.

(Promise.)