I will always be amazed by the power of food. The power to nourish. The power to produce joy and sometimes tears. The power to prompt someone to start a blog, to write recipes, and to learn how to use a camera. The power to make you hangry. The power to make you hungry. The power to make you thrive. The power to divide. The power to bring together. The power to build a raised bed. The power to tell a thousand different stories. Read more
There was an Italian market right around the corner from where we lived in New Haven. They sold overpriced produce and served the best sandwiches and salads I’ve ever had. Prior to frequenting there, I’d never been extremely fond of ordering a sandwich or salad out, especially when given a choice. When in New Haven, you eat pizza. But this place and their pesto sandwiches and italian salads, they changed my mind forever. Read more
Who first believed in you? Family members don’t count. For me, it was Mr. Serie. He was my 8th grade art teacher. Art was a 6-week elective then. Or was it 12-weeks? I can’t remember. But despite all my goofing off in the class, he pulled me aside and told me I was good at art. He didn’t have to do that. And I probably wasn’t all that good. But I went on to paint lots of pictures, take lots of art classes, and major in graphic design. All because Mr. Serie told me I was good at something. Words are powerful. Read more
We’re squeezing in a thousand dates in 30 days, or however many days we have left as just the two of us. It’s new ground for us. We’ve never been the best at dating—the kind of dating that requires reservations and plans. We’re far too last minute and, truth be told, cheap. The cost of a date seems to add up quickly, where all I can seem to see are dollar signs above every doorstep. We’ve been on a grad school budget for too many years. I’m not sure that we’ll ever lose that mentality. Nor do I want to. Read more
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And when your husband asks for that Catalina topped taco salad from his youth, you’ll find a way to make the dressing from scratch. Not because he asked. But because you’re anal and Kraft just wont do.
He might tell you to just go and buy the store bought stuff. And he might turn up his nose at your homemade stuff. But as soon as it hits his mouth, he’s happy, wholesome, and asking for seconds. Read more
