This week I have made a lot of comfort foods for some reason. Once I explain my weekend, it will probably be very evident. Saturday I got to see my friends Don and Maggi Debenport who were on their way to San Marcos to visit their daughter (who is also my good friend) Amber. She is on the drill team at Texas State and they were going to get to see her perform. I had said earlier that week on Facebook that it was a very long, trying week and that I would pay for anyone's gas money who wanted to bring me Andy's Frozen Custard.
SIDE NOTE: If you've never had Andy's, it's worth the trip to Tyler or Arkansas to get it. There are only about 7 stores in the whole nation, but it is the best ice cream EVER!!!! I call it God's ice cream.
So on their way to San Marcos, Don and Maggi stopped in Belton for lunch and brought me Andy's. It was definitely a wonderful addition to my day. It's creamy and thick and doesn't have any of the granulated texture that some frozen concoctions do. Such good eats!
Unfortunately, they also brought me some not so happy news. Maggi teaches at my alma mater and told me, on the hush, that one of my favorite teachers was diagnosed with breast cancer. This was very shocking and troubling to me. It was one of those moments where you realize that you really don't have any control over anything. You're just a human and there's nothing you can do about some things. It never ceases to amaze me; however, how God works in mysterious ways. I had been thinking for weeks about calling my teacher, but hadn't really made the time. I've been doing a lot of reflecting in my education classes this semester about what makes a good teacher and why. Needless to say, God put her on my mind for a reason. When I called her on Saturday afternoon, she of course told me the news herself, and thanked me profusely, and petitioned for my prayers (which was really unnecessary, considering I began my prayer the minute I heard the news). She is in good spirits and has a good prognosis, but it just makes you stop and wonder.
My teacher is a very dear woman to me. She is part of the reason that I am who I am today (much like my mother, who is also, and will always be, my teacher). She is one of the teachers who made me want to become a teacher because you can make a difference. She is what Caine and I call a "real, strong woman." One of those women who don't take crap from anybody and can accomplish anything they set their minds to. The kind of woman that I aspire to be. The news of her cancer diagnosis made me realize that life really isn't guaranteed. Nothing is guaranteed; not even your next breath.
How scary is that? That no one knows if I'll even wake up tomorrow. It makes me think maybe all those corny songs about living in the moment and "overusing I love you" really are right. I don't want to wake up one morning and realize that I missed out on a chance to tell someone I care about that I love them, think about them, pray for them or miss them. I don't want to ever be too late. Not to say that I'm going to drop out of school and just have adventures because you have to live life on the edge. That's no way to live either. But I do plan to say I love you more.
So after feeling a little blue all weekend, I made comfort food. Nothing like a pot roast with carrots and potatoes on a rainy Monday night to cheer you up. I had dinner with three of my friends (Ashley, Jordan and Kayla) and it was just...good. I had found a pumpkin candle and we had homemade apple crisp for dessert. My kitchen smelled like pumpkin and cloves and nutmeg. One of those smells that lets you know that everything is right with the world. Then last night I had to take my dinner with me to work, but I still had a big piping bowl of comfort. My handy dandy cookbook has a recipe for a quicker version of chicken and dumplings. It was delicious.
It's funny how food works like that. It can remind you that even though the world is a generally terrible place, there are still wonderful things. Like friends, faith, rain, phone calls, dumplings, cinnamon, flowers, God, ice cream, and love.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Jude Law and a Summer in Belton
I'm sorry. Not to sound like Tim Tebow, but I'm sorry for not blogging all summer long. It was a very interesting summer to say the least, and I wish that I had written about my experiences more. I spent my summer in Belton and I worked 20 hours a week at the Center for Academic Excellence. During the summers our office is in charge of new student orientations, so that was a lot of fun, but it was also a little stressful. I went home SEVERAL times, but it didn't seem like enough. It was also nice because I was only 2 and 1/2 hours away from Caine instead of 4, so the trip to Houston was much easier and worth making for just a weekend.
My greatest culinary accomplishment came when I was trying to eat low carb this summer. I dropped about 7 to 8 pounds total this summer just from working out consistently and cutting out carbs for the most part. The first three weeks I attempted this, I cut out all carbs: bread, pasta, fruit, sugar (yes even in my coffee). It was SO hard. I love bread and cake and pasta...a LOT. But I definitely saw the results quickly. I went and bought shrimp at the big HEB in Temple because it was on sale and it sounded yummy. I peeled and deveined a pound of shrimp all by myself and made a shrimp and spinach salad with balsalmic vinegarette. Then I still had half a pound of shrimp which I put in my freezer. A week or so later (when I was allowoing myself to eat one serving of carbs a day) I decided to use the rest of the shrimp. I also had several tomatoes. So, I thawed and seasoned the shrimp, cut up the tomatoes and sauteed them with a little olive oil and garlic. The tomatoes got soft and rendered a lot of tomatoey goodness, but still remained in tact. At the very end I added a splash of lemon juice and then tossed in the pasta that I had cooked. It made a lovely little dish!
I definitely missed my family as much if not more than I predicted in the last post I made. I missed watching scary movies with Mom and getting to drive with Olivia. But the three weeks I was at home in August I definitely made the most of. Other events of significance this summer:
1. I turned 21.
2. I navigated to downtown Houston (for a day Astros game) all by myself and didn't get lost or cut off in traffic.
3. I wrote a 22 page research paper about the conspiracy theories surrounding JFK's assassination.
4. I made a new friend.
5. I saved lots of money.
So I leave you with a line from one of my absolute favorite songs that reminds me of being a freshman in high school (a full 7 years ago): Tell all the Egnlish boys you meet about the American boy back in the States. The American boy you used to date who would do anything you say.
P.S. More to come...
My greatest culinary accomplishment came when I was trying to eat low carb this summer. I dropped about 7 to 8 pounds total this summer just from working out consistently and cutting out carbs for the most part. The first three weeks I attempted this, I cut out all carbs: bread, pasta, fruit, sugar (yes even in my coffee). It was SO hard. I love bread and cake and pasta...a LOT. But I definitely saw the results quickly. I went and bought shrimp at the big HEB in Temple because it was on sale and it sounded yummy. I peeled and deveined a pound of shrimp all by myself and made a shrimp and spinach salad with balsalmic vinegarette. Then I still had half a pound of shrimp which I put in my freezer. A week or so later (when I was allowoing myself to eat one serving of carbs a day) I decided to use the rest of the shrimp. I also had several tomatoes. So, I thawed and seasoned the shrimp, cut up the tomatoes and sauteed them with a little olive oil and garlic. The tomatoes got soft and rendered a lot of tomatoey goodness, but still remained in tact. At the very end I added a splash of lemon juice and then tossed in the pasta that I had cooked. It made a lovely little dish!
I definitely missed my family as much if not more than I predicted in the last post I made. I missed watching scary movies with Mom and getting to drive with Olivia. But the three weeks I was at home in August I definitely made the most of. Other events of significance this summer:
1. I turned 21.
2. I navigated to downtown Houston (for a day Astros game) all by myself and didn't get lost or cut off in traffic.
3. I wrote a 22 page research paper about the conspiracy theories surrounding JFK's assassination.
4. I made a new friend.
5. I saved lots of money.
So I leave you with a line from one of my absolute favorite songs that reminds me of being a freshman in high school (a full 7 years ago): Tell all the Egnlish boys you meet about the American boy back in the States. The American boy you used to date who would do anything you say.
P.S. More to come...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Bacon Wrapped Happy
It's been too long since I've written about my ventures in the kitchen. Finals are nearing and my life has gotten really hectic. It's not that I have intense finals to study for (my class load is actually rather light this semester), but I have a huge paper due for my persuasion class and...to be quite honest with everyone, I only have 4 pages written. It's supposed to be ten pages long, but I know that I will pull it out in the end. It's due on Tuesday. The stress in my life comes from...
DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING IS A RANT ABOUT FINALS WEEK.
My school doesn't have a dead week. We don't even have a dead day. The last day of class will be Next Wednesday and my first final will be a week from today. This gives me no time to prepare for the grueling task that is finals week. It's not nearly as bad for me as it is for others. My roommate has two finals on Thursday (the first day of finals) and will not have any time to study for them. So she has to study for them this weekend. RANT COMPLETE
Back to a better happier topic. Last night, I was cooking a celebratory meal. Caine made a 92 on his Genetics test (a very big deal considering most people have to take Genetics more than once just to pass it). He swore that he wasn't going to do well, but I was correct when I told him that he would. I decided to try a recipe in my wonderful little cookbook for bacon wrapped chicken with tarragon. It was possibly THE most amazing thing I have ever put in my mouth that came from my own oven! The chicken also had green onion cream cheese rolled into it. Basically I had to use my rolling pin to flatten the chicken to a half inch think, salt and peppered, spread a little cream cheese, rolled it all up, wrapped it in bacon and stuck it in the oven for 40 minutes. It was so easy, and wonderful! The chicken stayed moist, always a fear when I bake chicken, and the flavor was phenomenal. I didn't have tarragon and honestly it was a little pricey when I went to buy it, so I used the dried Italian herbs I had on hand. They worked perfectly well if I do say so myself.
This week a lot has been on my mind. Mostly, I've been thinking about my family and how blessed I am to have them. I miss my brother and sister a lot more than I thought I would when I first left for school. I find myself trying to get a hold of them, but then I remember how busy they actually are with school and sports and practices and such. I'm staying in Belton this summer and I really think I will miss swimming and laying out with Olivia every day or making Caleb go get me a milkshake. I can't even really describe how much I miss my mom and dad sometimes. I think I get more homesick now because I realize what I'm missing at home. I'm missing all Mom's antics and Olivia's boy troubles, Caleb's ball games and playing tennis with my daddy. I value home more now than I did when I was younger. Mom put on her Facebook that Caleb and Olivia had been running around chasing each other like they did when they were little. I know I can't imagine how fast our childhoods have gone for Mom, but I think I understand a little. When I look at pictures of the three of us kids, I can't believe how much older Olivia looks. She's such a beautiful young woman. I hardly recognize Caleb sometimes because he's gotten so muscular and "manly." I still see him as a four year old running around with a football helmet on his head that was seven sizes too big, making him look like a bobble head.
I wish that I hadn't hurried through my childhood. I wish that I had fought less with my sister. I wish that I had valued all the quality time with my family more. But I can't change that now. All any of us can do is live for the moment and treasure the wonderful people in our lives. I know one thing, I'm going to play tennis with my dad as many times as I can for this summer, and every time I do, thank my Heavenly Father for giving me a family like mine.
DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING IS A RANT ABOUT FINALS WEEK.
My school doesn't have a dead week. We don't even have a dead day. The last day of class will be Next Wednesday and my first final will be a week from today. This gives me no time to prepare for the grueling task that is finals week. It's not nearly as bad for me as it is for others. My roommate has two finals on Thursday (the first day of finals) and will not have any time to study for them. So she has to study for them this weekend. RANT COMPLETE
Back to a better happier topic. Last night, I was cooking a celebratory meal. Caine made a 92 on his Genetics test (a very big deal considering most people have to take Genetics more than once just to pass it). He swore that he wasn't going to do well, but I was correct when I told him that he would. I decided to try a recipe in my wonderful little cookbook for bacon wrapped chicken with tarragon. It was possibly THE most amazing thing I have ever put in my mouth that came from my own oven! The chicken also had green onion cream cheese rolled into it. Basically I had to use my rolling pin to flatten the chicken to a half inch think, salt and peppered, spread a little cream cheese, rolled it all up, wrapped it in bacon and stuck it in the oven for 40 minutes. It was so easy, and wonderful! The chicken stayed moist, always a fear when I bake chicken, and the flavor was phenomenal. I didn't have tarragon and honestly it was a little pricey when I went to buy it, so I used the dried Italian herbs I had on hand. They worked perfectly well if I do say so myself.
This week a lot has been on my mind. Mostly, I've been thinking about my family and how blessed I am to have them. I miss my brother and sister a lot more than I thought I would when I first left for school. I find myself trying to get a hold of them, but then I remember how busy they actually are with school and sports and practices and such. I'm staying in Belton this summer and I really think I will miss swimming and laying out with Olivia every day or making Caleb go get me a milkshake. I can't even really describe how much I miss my mom and dad sometimes. I think I get more homesick now because I realize what I'm missing at home. I'm missing all Mom's antics and Olivia's boy troubles, Caleb's ball games and playing tennis with my daddy. I value home more now than I did when I was younger. Mom put on her Facebook that Caleb and Olivia had been running around chasing each other like they did when they were little. I know I can't imagine how fast our childhoods have gone for Mom, but I think I understand a little. When I look at pictures of the three of us kids, I can't believe how much older Olivia looks. She's such a beautiful young woman. I hardly recognize Caleb sometimes because he's gotten so muscular and "manly." I still see him as a four year old running around with a football helmet on his head that was seven sizes too big, making him look like a bobble head.
I wish that I hadn't hurried through my childhood. I wish that I had fought less with my sister. I wish that I had valued all the quality time with my family more. But I can't change that now. All any of us can do is live for the moment and treasure the wonderful people in our lives. I know one thing, I'm going to play tennis with my dad as many times as I can for this summer, and every time I do, thank my Heavenly Father for giving me a family like mine.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Third Wave Feminism and Leftover Chicken Pot Pie
The end of a fiscal month brings challenges to most college students, but especially to those on a strict budget like mine. To add a twist to this predicament, keep in mind that I hate eating fast food all the time and that woman cannot survive on peanut butter alone. The food in the pantry/refrigerator is running out, and so is the money in the bank. So I've found creative ways to use up all the food I have left, so none goes to waste and also keep from overspending. I wanted to make a dessert last week, so I made peanut butter cookies because all my recipe requires is peanut butter, sugar, eggs and vanilla (Vanilla is expensive, so I've got to find some way to cut down on that expense.). I also made oatmeal cookies later because I had oatmeal on hand. Both cookies were delicious and were quickly devoured by my friends. The only way for me to really keep cookies around is if I don't tell Caine that I've made them.
I also made another chicken pot pie, because that was a huge hit the first time around. I meant to cook for more than just Caine and myself on this occasion, but my roommate was gone for the weekend as were his, so it ended up just the two of us. It was also a great budget meal because I had all of the ingredients on hand. The only thing I would have needed would be pre-made pie crusts, but instead, I knew I had supplies to make my own, so I set off on that venture. Just as I was about to roll out the pie crust (more on that later) a friend called him to go cook out at the lake. He politely turned them down. I told him that I didn't mind and we could do that instead if he wanted, but he told me that he would rather spend a quiet evening with me. How lucky am I? I love that he always appreciates my cooking, effort and time so much so that I don't even mind sacrificing. It makes a big difference when your service doesn't go unnoticed.
So back to the pie crust. My mom makes a really good pie crust dough, but it's one of those recipes that doesn't really have a recipe; she just does it. So I called her up Saturday afternoon and asked her how to make it. She gave me a good description of what I would need to do and sent me on my way. My mom is always great about helping me learn things that I'll need in the future. Though, she doesn't usually teach me kitchen things. Isn't it amazing how the older you get, the wiser your parents seem? I suppose that's relativity at its finest. I had some butter that needed to be of use, so I decided to substitute that for Crisco which my mother's recipe calls for. OH MY WORD!!!! Best pie crust I've ever even attempted to make. It was flaky, buttery and crunchy without being hard...delicious. So, the moral of this is that I can make delicious pie crust that isn't too salty, gummy or hard and I don't have to rely on Pilsbury to make it happen!
I had the leftover pot pie Tuesday night at work and it was still wonderful. Though I did wish that I could have heated it in an oven instead of a microwave. As for feminism...
This semester I have taken a Women's Studies class as an upper level history to finish my minor. What this class taught me is that I am a feminist. Feminism is not all about bra burning and refusing to be domestic. Third Wave feminism is about the right to choose. Women should have the privilege to choose who they want to be. If I want to grow up and become June Cleaver, then that is my right, but no one should be allowed to force me to do something. On that note of feminism and women's rights, I leave with this thought:
We're merely soldiers in petticoats
Dauntless crusaders for women's votes
Though we adore men individually,
We agree that as a group,
They're rather stupid....
So cast off the shackles of yesterday
Shoulder to shoulder into the fray
Our daughter's daughters will adore us,
and they'll sing in grateful chorus
Well done! Sister suffragette!
I also made another chicken pot pie, because that was a huge hit the first time around. I meant to cook for more than just Caine and myself on this occasion, but my roommate was gone for the weekend as were his, so it ended up just the two of us. It was also a great budget meal because I had all of the ingredients on hand. The only thing I would have needed would be pre-made pie crusts, but instead, I knew I had supplies to make my own, so I set off on that venture. Just as I was about to roll out the pie crust (more on that later) a friend called him to go cook out at the lake. He politely turned them down. I told him that I didn't mind and we could do that instead if he wanted, but he told me that he would rather spend a quiet evening with me. How lucky am I? I love that he always appreciates my cooking, effort and time so much so that I don't even mind sacrificing. It makes a big difference when your service doesn't go unnoticed.
So back to the pie crust. My mom makes a really good pie crust dough, but it's one of those recipes that doesn't really have a recipe; she just does it. So I called her up Saturday afternoon and asked her how to make it. She gave me a good description of what I would need to do and sent me on my way. My mom is always great about helping me learn things that I'll need in the future. Though, she doesn't usually teach me kitchen things. Isn't it amazing how the older you get, the wiser your parents seem? I suppose that's relativity at its finest. I had some butter that needed to be of use, so I decided to substitute that for Crisco which my mother's recipe calls for. OH MY WORD!!!! Best pie crust I've ever even attempted to make. It was flaky, buttery and crunchy without being hard...delicious. So, the moral of this is that I can make delicious pie crust that isn't too salty, gummy or hard and I don't have to rely on Pilsbury to make it happen!
I had the leftover pot pie Tuesday night at work and it was still wonderful. Though I did wish that I could have heated it in an oven instead of a microwave. As for feminism...
This semester I have taken a Women's Studies class as an upper level history to finish my minor. What this class taught me is that I am a feminist. Feminism is not all about bra burning and refusing to be domestic. Third Wave feminism is about the right to choose. Women should have the privilege to choose who they want to be. If I want to grow up and become June Cleaver, then that is my right, but no one should be allowed to force me to do something. On that note of feminism and women's rights, I leave with this thought:
We're merely soldiers in petticoats
Dauntless crusaders for women's votes
Though we adore men individually,
We agree that as a group,
They're rather stupid....
So cast off the shackles of yesterday
Shoulder to shoulder into the fray
Our daughter's daughters will adore us,
and they'll sing in grateful chorus
Well done! Sister suffragette!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Too tired to think
I made ravioli casserole Monday night, not before Spring Break. I've been utterly exhausted and run down the last two days. All I want to do right now is sleep. I can't even think about cooking right now. Caine brought grilled chicken to me at work last night since I had been running around like a chicken with my head cut off all day long. Ironic...yes. Does anyone out there know a good pie crust recipe? I know my mom's, but I can never remember it. If I can make my own pie crust instead of buying ones from the freezer section, I might make chicken pot pie again this weekend, just because it's the end of the month and I have a bunch of random things in my pantry/refrigerator/freezer. I've got veggies, cream of chicken soup, chicken etc...I just need a pie crust. For my birthday I've decided to ask for gift cards to Bed Bath and Beyond so that I can buy the utensils and pans that are missing from my repertoire. For example, I need: I pie plate or two, muffin tins, a bundt/pound cake pan, round cake pans, ice cream scoop (for precise cookie dough portions), a hand mixer, (I've been swiping my boyfriend's which he doesn't mind since he benefits form the products) cooling racks, a coffee grinder, a food processor/blender. I realize this is a lofty goal, but I do love cookware.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A Texas thunderstorm, a casserole and a job walk into a bar...
This week has been hectic, but so exciting at the same time. Monday was the first of what I'm sure will be many, many late afternoon Texas thunderstorms. For anyone out there who has never experienced Texas in the springtime, let me just say that "random," does not begin to describe the weather. Here's the outline of the week so far (keep in mind it is currently Wednesday morning):
Sunday afternoon: cloudy, humid not really raining
Monday morning: rain of the steady, annoying drizzle variety
Monday afternoon: little rain
Monday 5 p.m.: HUGE thunderstorm of the green sky, park your car away from trees variety
Monday night: still storming
Tuesday morning: bright, sunny and beautiful
Wednesday 7 a.m.: sunny and gorgeously warm
Wednesday 9 a.m.: overcast and somewhat chilly
I hate not knowing what to wear for the day when I leave my house in the morning. Yesterday was Tuesday. Tuesdays usually suck, but the weather was so beautiful, I couldn't help but be in a good mood. I put on a pair of black patent pumps with black capris and headed out the door. I had leftovers for dinner, but the spaghetti and meatballs were still SO good! I got an A+ on a paper for my Women's Studies class and this morning confirmed a job for the summer so I get to stay in town, take classes and work. This summer will be so much fun!
As a result of all of this good news, I've decided to make celebratory food. Celebration meals are commonplace in my world. My mom has always made us birthday breakfast of whatever we wanted, all our family celebrations revolve around food and this year for mine and Caine's second anniversary, I made my first ever chicken pot pie. That was a very special night. (No this blog is not about to contain adult content.) All Caine's roommates (at our request) left for the evening, so we could spend some time together. I got to make my sweet boyfriend dinner and sit in candlelight and talk about where we've been and where we're going together.
Now I feel the need to tell a story unrelated to food.
I was eighteen. I was struggling with things most eighteen year-old girls struggle with in their first year of college, but I also was working on forgiving myself and forgiving others. Letting go of what's hurt you is never easy and cutting ties with those who hurt you is even harder. Thursday, January 17, 2008 my girlfriends and I decided to go out to a country club a couple towns over and go dancing. I was itching to flirt with a boy, but I couldn't think of any that I would actually want to come with us, then one came to mind. His name was Caine. We had met the semester before through a mutual friend that I played tennis with. The details of the encounter were blurry, but I remember thinking how cute he was and how his smile made my head spin a little. So, I texted Caine and asked him to come dancing with us because we needed more boys to come. He declined because of his 6 a.m. baseball practice the next morning, but he asked if he could make it up to me by taking me to a movie the next night. So we agreed that we would go to the movies. Now at a normal college, this would be no big deal, but I go to a Baptist bubble, so everyone that heard about it wanted to know if he was "pursuing" me, to which my response was "I hope he's not because that makes him my stalker." Even with all of the mutual friends between us pressuring us into labeling the outing a "date" both Caine and I were convinced that we were just two people hanging out on a Friday night. We went to see "P.S. I Love You" (his suggestion not mine) on Friday, January 18. Very little about the date was typical. We weren't sure if we wanted to go eat or not, but the movie was supposed to start at 8 ish. We ended up going to a later show, because we spontaneously decided to eat at this little place called The Ranch on our way to the theater. When we got there, Caine picked another movie time, which would become the trademark of our relationship. When we got back to campus from the movie, we sat in the lobby and flirted and talked until 2 a.m. The conversation was never awkward, stagnant or forced. It was the best date I have ever been on. We swapped stories and self-disclosures all night. I have never felt so comfortable with someone.
I saw Caine every day that semester except for Spring Break and one weekend I went home without him. He quickly became my best friend, and I haven't looked back since. There wasn't really a moment when I fell in love with him, but a lot of little instants when I realized that I cared about him. Whether it was a bad day on the baseball field, or a tough test or a disagreement with his roommate, I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to talk with him, pray with him and listen to him. He was there for me too. When my friends drifted away that semester, he was there. When I struggled with my class load, he was there. When I needed just to laugh, his sense of humor brightened my day. When I think back on the way it all started, I can hardly believe it. We've grown up so much since then. My mother once told me that when God was ready to put someone in my life, it would be when I was least looking for someone. Was she ever right! I'm thankful every day for my best friend, and that even when I burn the dinner, even when I'm cranky, even when my best efforts fall short, he loves me for who I am not what I am and his smile still makes my head spin.
P.S. Making ravioli casserole tonight and will write about its success or failure tomorrow!
Sunday afternoon: cloudy, humid not really raining
Monday morning: rain of the steady, annoying drizzle variety
Monday afternoon: little rain
Monday 5 p.m.: HUGE thunderstorm of the green sky, park your car away from trees variety
Monday night: still storming
Tuesday morning: bright, sunny and beautiful
Wednesday 7 a.m.: sunny and gorgeously warm
Wednesday 9 a.m.: overcast and somewhat chilly
I hate not knowing what to wear for the day when I leave my house in the morning. Yesterday was Tuesday. Tuesdays usually suck, but the weather was so beautiful, I couldn't help but be in a good mood. I put on a pair of black patent pumps with black capris and headed out the door. I had leftovers for dinner, but the spaghetti and meatballs were still SO good! I got an A+ on a paper for my Women's Studies class and this morning confirmed a job for the summer so I get to stay in town, take classes and work. This summer will be so much fun!
As a result of all of this good news, I've decided to make celebratory food. Celebration meals are commonplace in my world. My mom has always made us birthday breakfast of whatever we wanted, all our family celebrations revolve around food and this year for mine and Caine's second anniversary, I made my first ever chicken pot pie. That was a very special night. (No this blog is not about to contain adult content.) All Caine's roommates (at our request) left for the evening, so we could spend some time together. I got to make my sweet boyfriend dinner and sit in candlelight and talk about where we've been and where we're going together.
Now I feel the need to tell a story unrelated to food.
I was eighteen. I was struggling with things most eighteen year-old girls struggle with in their first year of college, but I also was working on forgiving myself and forgiving others. Letting go of what's hurt you is never easy and cutting ties with those who hurt you is even harder. Thursday, January 17, 2008 my girlfriends and I decided to go out to a country club a couple towns over and go dancing. I was itching to flirt with a boy, but I couldn't think of any that I would actually want to come with us, then one came to mind. His name was Caine. We had met the semester before through a mutual friend that I played tennis with. The details of the encounter were blurry, but I remember thinking how cute he was and how his smile made my head spin a little. So, I texted Caine and asked him to come dancing with us because we needed more boys to come. He declined because of his 6 a.m. baseball practice the next morning, but he asked if he could make it up to me by taking me to a movie the next night. So we agreed that we would go to the movies. Now at a normal college, this would be no big deal, but I go to a Baptist bubble, so everyone that heard about it wanted to know if he was "pursuing" me, to which my response was "I hope he's not because that makes him my stalker." Even with all of the mutual friends between us pressuring us into labeling the outing a "date" both Caine and I were convinced that we were just two people hanging out on a Friday night. We went to see "P.S. I Love You" (his suggestion not mine) on Friday, January 18. Very little about the date was typical. We weren't sure if we wanted to go eat or not, but the movie was supposed to start at 8 ish. We ended up going to a later show, because we spontaneously decided to eat at this little place called The Ranch on our way to the theater. When we got there, Caine picked another movie time, which would become the trademark of our relationship. When we got back to campus from the movie, we sat in the lobby and flirted and talked until 2 a.m. The conversation was never awkward, stagnant or forced. It was the best date I have ever been on. We swapped stories and self-disclosures all night. I have never felt so comfortable with someone.
I saw Caine every day that semester except for Spring Break and one weekend I went home without him. He quickly became my best friend, and I haven't looked back since. There wasn't really a moment when I fell in love with him, but a lot of little instants when I realized that I cared about him. Whether it was a bad day on the baseball field, or a tough test or a disagreement with his roommate, I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to talk with him, pray with him and listen to him. He was there for me too. When my friends drifted away that semester, he was there. When I struggled with my class load, he was there. When I needed just to laugh, his sense of humor brightened my day. When I think back on the way it all started, I can hardly believe it. We've grown up so much since then. My mother once told me that when God was ready to put someone in my life, it would be when I was least looking for someone. Was she ever right! I'm thankful every day for my best friend, and that even when I burn the dinner, even when I'm cranky, even when my best efforts fall short, he loves me for who I am not what I am and his smile still makes my head spin.
P.S. Making ravioli casserole tonight and will write about its success or failure tomorrow!
Monday, March 8, 2010
Cloudy with a chance of rain...oh and meatballs.
Last night I tried out a recipe from my cookbook for spaghetti and meatballs. Normally my family just does meat sauce, so I was hesitant to try this new concept.
Caine and I had spent the weekend in Houston with his family. Since he had a Genetics test this morning, I offered to make him dinner so he could spend more time studying. After the weekend, I was exhausted to say the least. I never sleep very well away from my own bed. I also am facing the monster that is my seasonal allergies. Every time the weather goes from hot to cold quickly, which lately has been every twelve hours, I get sick. Not sick enough to stay home, just sick enough to feel awful. So, all that to say, I'm very thankful that this recipe was so quick, easy and filling. I used frozen, Italian style meatballs, which I actually found in my HEB freezer section. the recipe also called for two cans of diced tomatoes with the liquid, two cans of tomato paste (which by the way tastes DISGUSTING on its own), half a cup of water, dried Italian seasoning and two teaspoons of sugar. Simmer it all together in a Dutch oven, which I didn't realize is just a big pot (go figure), and twenty minutes later you've got yourself sauce that tastes like it's been on the stove top all day. You could probably make this in the slow cooker over really low heat if you wanted it ready for when you got home. It also didn't matter that my noodles were a little sticky because the sauce was so much more...saucy than if I had done regular meat sauce.
This was by far the most filling meal I have made except maybe for pot roast. I only had one small helping and felt full the rest of the night. Caine, who usually gets seconds of anything I make, had one normal sized portion and finished mine. Isn't it astounding how 20-something males can eat as much as they want of whatever they want and never gain weight? I think it's a blessing, Caine thinks it's a curse. I would kill to be able to eat all the ice cream I wanted and never gain a single pound.
On that...I would like to make a segue. The thought has crossed my mind on occasion that because I cook for Caine or enjoy housework or don't mind doing domestic things, I'm anti-feminist. I am not one of those women who believes that the only job I can take on is homemaker because I'm a woman. I do not believe that women were "designed" to ONLY be wives and mothers. To me cooking, cleaning and doing other "wifey" things is not about duty. It's about putting the needs of others before yourself, which I have always believed is right. When I cook for Caine, I don't think "I'm doing this to be subservient to him because he's a man and I'm a woman" I instead think, "I'm doing this because if Christ had a friend who needed a meal cooked for them, he would not hesitate in making them a dinner." I think that if more women thought of their husbands as their friends, there would be no confusion about "a woman's place." We would all just be serving and helping one another without any labels about what women should do for men and what men should do for women. Wouldn't that be nice?
Caine and I had spent the weekend in Houston with his family. Since he had a Genetics test this morning, I offered to make him dinner so he could spend more time studying. After the weekend, I was exhausted to say the least. I never sleep very well away from my own bed. I also am facing the monster that is my seasonal allergies. Every time the weather goes from hot to cold quickly, which lately has been every twelve hours, I get sick. Not sick enough to stay home, just sick enough to feel awful. So, all that to say, I'm very thankful that this recipe was so quick, easy and filling. I used frozen, Italian style meatballs, which I actually found in my HEB freezer section. the recipe also called for two cans of diced tomatoes with the liquid, two cans of tomato paste (which by the way tastes DISGUSTING on its own), half a cup of water, dried Italian seasoning and two teaspoons of sugar. Simmer it all together in a Dutch oven, which I didn't realize is just a big pot (go figure), and twenty minutes later you've got yourself sauce that tastes like it's been on the stove top all day. You could probably make this in the slow cooker over really low heat if you wanted it ready for when you got home. It also didn't matter that my noodles were a little sticky because the sauce was so much more...saucy than if I had done regular meat sauce.
This was by far the most filling meal I have made except maybe for pot roast. I only had one small helping and felt full the rest of the night. Caine, who usually gets seconds of anything I make, had one normal sized portion and finished mine. Isn't it astounding how 20-something males can eat as much as they want of whatever they want and never gain weight? I think it's a blessing, Caine thinks it's a curse. I would kill to be able to eat all the ice cream I wanted and never gain a single pound.
On that...I would like to make a segue. The thought has crossed my mind on occasion that because I cook for Caine or enjoy housework or don't mind doing domestic things, I'm anti-feminist. I am not one of those women who believes that the only job I can take on is homemaker because I'm a woman. I do not believe that women were "designed" to ONLY be wives and mothers. To me cooking, cleaning and doing other "wifey" things is not about duty. It's about putting the needs of others before yourself, which I have always believed is right. When I cook for Caine, I don't think "I'm doing this to be subservient to him because he's a man and I'm a woman" I instead think, "I'm doing this because if Christ had a friend who needed a meal cooked for them, he would not hesitate in making them a dinner." I think that if more women thought of their husbands as their friends, there would be no confusion about "a woman's place." We would all just be serving and helping one another without any labels about what women should do for men and what men should do for women. Wouldn't that be nice?
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