Black bean burgers (w/ a red pepper aioli)

Not so long ago and very nearby, there was a great little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that had amazing black bean burgers. Best I've ever tasted. Then the restaurant closed down and after I had driven nearly everyone insane talking about how sad I was that these burgers were no longer in my life... someone found me the recipe. Glee, joy, fulfillment - you name it, I felt it.  I've tweaked that recipe quite a bit though (I think the cook kept some secrets), and this is what I now make to satisfy my black bean burger cravings. 

1 15-ounce cans black beans, organic, drained, and rinsed

1/4 cup whole-wheat flour

1/2 cup quick cooking oats (oatmeal)

1 cup whole, skin-on almonds, (measure the 1 cup first then finely ground in your food processor)

1/8 cup garlic powder

1/8 cup onion powder

1 tablespoon cumin

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon paprika

1 tablespoon salt

2 teaspoons black pepper

2 teaspoons red chili pepper flakes (less if you don't like spicy)

1/2 of a large red onion, 

1/2 of a large red/yellow/orange bell pepper, seeds removed

3 (about 1/2 cup) sweet roasted peppers (recommended brand: Divina)

In a food processor, finely grind the almonds. Remove almonds from f.p. to a large bowl. Blend the black beans, red onion, bell pepper, and roasted peppers in the food processor. Mix all other dry ingredients with the almonds and then add pureed bean mixture into the other ingredients. Mix with a fork.  Let the mixture sit for 30-40 mins. (No need to refrigerate.)

The texture of the burger mixture should be just moist enough to form first into balls, and then flatten into a burger shape. Using a large spoon, scoop out about 6 oz. of black bean mixture, shape into a ball, flatten into a plump burger, and fry on both sides in olive oil until a crisp crust forms and the burger is cooked through. Should take about 3 mins per side, make sure the oil is hot but not smoking or the burgers will char too much (probably between medium and medium high heat).

Makes 6 to 8 burgers. Put uncooked mixture in the fridge if you have any left over. The mix holds up great for days.

Toppings, you ask?

The restaurant used to serve them on a bun with your choice of cheese, lettuce, tomato, red onion and a red pepper aioli.

My red pepper aioli is:

1/2 cup olive oil mayo

3 cloves of garlic

1/2 cup of roasted red peppers 

salt and pepper to taste

All into a food processor and puree. 

I also have served these with a left over squash, caramelized onion, and mint spread (recipe to come shortly), which was great, too.  When feeling lazy? Some jalepeno mustard, a couple of the sweet potato fries that I usually serve on the side, some spiced colby cheese (boar's head makes a great one), and lettuce... it even works as a wrap in a tortilla (just make your burger more of a hotdog shape and flatten it).

3 things

The irony of this thought comes from the fact that this year I decided to take on the 365 picture challenge in order to encourage myself to travel and enjoy my 29th year to the fullest:

The three most awesome sights and experiences of my trip to Hawaii could not be caught on film. Well, not on my Fujifilm point and shoot anyway.

1 – The night sky was so clear and literally filled with stars. (Fact: I know nothing about astronomy, kids. But there are a lot of those little stars out there.) The Milky Way was visible almost every night, and the black, milky white, and purple that was the backdrop to billions of bright stars (though not caught on film) is still visible in my mind.

2 – My irrational fear / uncomfortable...um... respect of a live volcano was met head on while looking down at the open crater of Kilauea in Volcano, HI. That night it was completely black except for those stars and the red and orange smokey, steamy, sulfury burps… you know, the top of a volcano, the area that apparently has its own weather – windy as hell and above the rain clouds.

3 – Sure, there are pictures of me in the bay at Carlsmith Beach wading around with giant sea turtles, and the pictures are great. But those old guys looked unspeakably more amazing in person.

                                                                 One of the old guys...

Cheesy hash browns w/ an over-easy egg, "re-fried" black beans, pico de gallo, and avocado

This either sounds delicious to you or like a messy mashup. And either way, you're probably right.

All these components kinda have to be made around the same time, so you'll be multi-tasking for this recipe. 

You can get the "pico de gallo" and avocado out of the way first.

What you need:

two handfuls of cherry tomatoes - diced

about 2 tbsp of fresh cilantro - chopped

juice of 1 lime

a couple slices of jalepeno (seeds in or out is your call, seeds make it hotter) - finely chopped

the green tops of about 3 scallions - chopped

salt and pepper

Haas avocado

Mix up all the ingredients for the pico - squeeze half the lime juice over the pico. 

Then dice up the avocado, place on top of the pico and squeeze the other half of the lime juice over the avocado. This will almost guarantee that your avocado won't brown while it's waiting for you. Mix up the pico and avocado and set it aside.

Cheesy hash browns - 

I recommend not going the frozen hash brown route. Instead buy a couple red skin potatoes and slice them as thin as you can. Fry them up in some olive oil until they're golden brown... could take up to 15 mins if you cover the bottom of your frying pan, flipping them every 4-5 mins, to get them golden brown but not burnt. If you'd like, you can finely chop some yellow onion and add that in, too. There is a bit of onion in the other components though, so you can also leave it out. Salt and pepper during the cooking process. (1/2 cup of shredded cheddar or a similar cheese should be added to the hash browns when they come off the heat and go into the serving dish.)

After you start your hash browns, then you can get the "refried" black beans going.

What you need:

One can Organic Black Beans (thoroughly rinsed off)

1/2 cup of water

2 large garlic cloves - finely diced

2 scallions or 1/4 cup of white or yellow onion - chopped

salt and pepper (to taste)

1/4 tsp smoked paprika (smoked is key)

1 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp garlic powder

1/4 tsp onion powder

After you rinse off the black beans, put about 2/3 of the can into a bowl. Put 1/2 cup of water, the remaining 1/3 of a can of beans, garlic, scallions/onion, and seasonings into a sauce pan over medium high heat. While the beans + water mixture is coming to a boil, mash up the 2/3 of the can of beans that you have in the bowl set aside. It's pretty easy to make the beans into a paste. After the bean + water mixture comes to a boil, mix in the bean paste. Reduce the heat to between low and medium and reduce for about 10 mins, stirring every couple minutes. The beans and the hash browns should be ready around the same time. Once the water is reduce by about half, the beans can be put in a serving bowl.

During the last minutes of the potatoes cooking, you can start cooking your eggs. I prefer over-easy with this because the yolk then forms a bit of a sauce.  I can't describe to you how to cook an egg over-easy though. You'll have to figure that one out for yourself.

Assembly: Add the cheddar to the hash browns, if you haven't done that yet. Bottom layer will be cheesy hash browns, then add a couple spoonfuls of "re-fried" beans, then the over-easy egg, then top with a couple spoonfuls of the pico de gallo and avocado.  (I garnished with a couple pickled jalapenos .. because you can never have too many jalapenos.) Dig in!

My 29th year - photo a day

 I'm 29. And I've decided to take on the "photo a day" challenge. This project started on 9/21/12 and so far it's been 9 days and I've forgotten about this challenge a few times already... Here are September's photos: 

 Shop local, especially in the Mitten. Clinton Twp., MI

 Drink local, too. East Lansing, MI

 Always be weary of the stranger with a camera. E.L., MI

 New Broad Art Museum... or the Mother Ship. E.L., MI

 There's a dead guy in our river... Grand River - MI

 Outsource to Detroit. Detroit, MI

Mall art. Partridge Creek - MI

Is this a joke? Old Louisville, KY

The dead bulb was bothering me. Louisville, KY

Peace or darkness

Note: This was a dream I had. My subconscious might be a little creepy. I was told by friends that it was too sci-fi and weird not to write down, but you'll have to figure out the symbolism for yourself. In the dream, the last thought I had was "wake up, this is enough."

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I was led to a building that resembled a mall, but I sensed more of an encapsulated community-space - there were multiple floors and long corridors. Glass and emptiness as far as the eye could see. I saw my reflection. I was a man wearing all black. Looking around there were frozen, life-like shapes. The people that should have been bustling and chatting around me were still and lifeless, but they appeared to be at peace. I had no memory of how I had gotten here. 

I lost my breath. 

I was somewhere forbidden; somewhere I shouldn't have seen or known to be. This was the afterlife, but I was still alive. 

I panicked. I had to get out. I wasn't ready to be stationary, stagnant, confined. I saw a girl near my age coming toward me from the stairway. I wasn't sure of who she was but she seemed familiar and I knew she needed my help if we were going to make it out and back to life. The floors were made of an opaque glass, as were the walls. She looked hurried and concerned. I could tell that she hadn't figured out where we were. 

Instinctively we both knew that we couldn't go out the front door. It was a certain death. The only way out was up. Without speaking, we ran to the elevator. We could see the people dressed all in black outside of the building; they were becoming rattled and watchful. As the elevator continued up, my mind was blank. I had no ability to think ahead. I'd never felt this before. I was only able to deal with what was presenting itself at that moment. 

The elevator doors opened. We were faced with more opaque glass walls. My only thought was to get to the outside of the building and climb, but I couldn't decide if we should go up or down. We broke a pane of glass with a marbled trash can and climbed out together. I took my eyes off of my friend only to plan my next step forward but when I looked back to my right, she was gone. She hadn't fallen. I would have heard or seen that. She had simply disappeared. 

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the glass, pleading with my mind to allow me to think of what I should do next. 

I lost my breath.

I was no longer outside. I no longer felt my forehead leaning against the glass and I no longer heard or felt the whistling wind. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the ground floor, opaque glass walls, stirring people dressed all in black surrounding the building, still and lifeless human forms peacefully standing all around me. I began to search for my friend. I had to confirm that this place was what I thought it was. I began scanning faces and moved from floor to floor. Finally, there she was. I saw her motionless black hair. I saw her reflection in the window. She no longer looked restless or worried. She looked at peace.  

I lost my breath. My throat felt like it fully closed this time. I felt the urge to cry but my brain couldn't place the proper reaction to the lump in my throat. 

I didn't want to be here.

I knew I would have to fight and face the men waiting outside of the front doors. I turned and ran. I was confident that I could make it far enough at a fast enough pace that I could break free from them and from this place. I wasn't ready for this. Not yet. And maybe never.

I burst through the doors and bodies immediately began to fight me. I was pushing and clawing my way. I was only able to hold onto one thought. "Get away from the building." It seemed there were only 2 men, then 4, then 10. I was making ground. But then men were multiplying infinitely and I could only think, "You've lost. Give up. This will never end until you give up."

I was swallowed by a crowd of a 100 men dressed all in black. 

***

I had a general feeling that could only be described of as at peace. I was surrounded by satisfied people. They were bustling and chatting. The building that we were in was made of opalescent glass floors and walls. Outside the sun was shining and the clouds floated by at a pace that signified it was a windy but clear day. I wasn't really looking for anything in particular, I was just letting some time pass. I saw her face. Her black hair made me lose my breath. I had a clear memory of something unsettling. I remembered the still lives, the almost cardboard cutouts. I began walking faster, searching for the stillness but there was none. I realized, I was dead. I was in the afterlife. I was now one of them. I was supposed to be at peace. But I knew more than they did. I knew that this was just space where we were all trapped. I wanted to scream out, to tell them they were all being fooled. I tried to open my mouth but internally I felt the ability to think come back to my mind. As much as I didn't want to be here, I didn't have to ruin everyone else's peace. My friend with the black hair, she looked peaceful after all. If they knew though, maybe they would want something different. I decided to escape. If I could show them what was possible, maybe they would realize there was a choice to me made. 

I walked down two flights of stairs and calmly walked out the front door. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was coming to stop me, but it seemed as though no one had noticed that I was gone. This was my choice to make. The men dressed all in black were no longer outside of the building, no one was looking to fight me to go back in. 

There was a weathered pine shack that was off in the distance. I felt that since it was the only thing I could see on the horizon that I should try to talk with anyone that might be there. When I neared the wooden shelter, I turned back to see the reflective glass structure that lay behind me, as I faced forward two large men dressed in black stepped out of the empty interior of the shed. There was no point in running. I knew how many like them were just inside. I might have smiled just as my jaw was being broken. I heard my teeth shatter, but I felt nothing. I saw blood, but I didn't scream or writhe in pain. The second man stepped toward me and pulled out a samurai sword. With one motion I was beheaded. My eyes, however, were still open and I could still see. I could see that my body was being taken away and my head was being placed into a Styrofoam container as though I was today's catch, fresh from the sea. As the lid was being fastened I had my last thought. "This is the final death. Instead of peace there is darkness here."

Butternut squash soup

IT's FaLL!! Well, not yet. But thanks to a ridiculously hot summer and a statewide drought, butternut squash season has come early and I plan on taking full advantage. I suggest that you do as well. In all honesty, this is one of my favorite meals and one of the best things I make. You should try it.

Butternut Squash Soup w/ Sage and Parmesan

Two medium to medium large butternut squash (peeled, cut in half, seeded and diced into cubes)
1 large yellow onion
6-7 large sage leaves
heaping 1/4 tsp of cayenne pepper + more to garnish soup with
about 1 cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese
5 cups of stock (I use vegetable stock, but you can use chicken stock. Homemade is best. If you buy veg stock do NOT use a tomato based stock for this soup. Made that mistake once. Kinda ruins it.)

Special equipment: an emulsion hand blender or a regular blender.

I use a dutch oven for most of my soups. Get the d.o. hot and then thinly cover the bottom with olive oil. Throw in the diced onion, stirring every so often so it doesn't get overly brown. You want the onion to be soft so you can probably cook over medium high heat for 6-7 mins. Add salt and pepper (to taste - about 15 grinds of a pepper mill and sea salt grinder. Be aware of how salty your stock is when adding salt at this stage.) Dice the sage leaves and put them in with the onion, stirring regularly for another 2 mins. Put in the stock and bring to a boil. Once it boils, add the diced butternut squash and turn the heat down to a simmer / slight boil. It will look like a lot of squash, but you want the squash to be even to slightly higher than your stock level once in the pot.

After about 15 mins, check the squash. It should be very fork tender and you should be able to pierce through the largest pieces easily with a fork. If this is the case, remove the soup from the burner and use the emulsion hand blender to blend the soup to your desired texture. I like it velvety smooth, other people like it chunky. I'll let you decide. Once it is blended, stir in the cup of Parmesan.  When you're serving give a couple shakes of cayenne pepper to the top of each bowl. Like this:

I serve this soup with crusty whole grain garlic bread and some kind of fruit - usually green grapes.  I don't know why the three things go together, but they work and taste delicious. Grilled cheese is also a good co-pilot or cheese and crackers.

Happy Butternut Squash Soup Season, everyone!

Wasting time

“…I wish I could waste my time without wasting all yourrrrr tiiiiiiime.” She sang along to the lyric, windows down, while it was just starting to rain.

Her arm was stretched out the window, like always. She had an odd habit of watching the side mirror’s reflection of her fingers blowing in the wind while she was driving. Now she watched in the mirror as she put her hand up, palm out, fingers extended so that she could catch passing raindrops from the wind. Looking around her car, she checked to make sure nothing critical was getting wet and decided to continue driving, windows down. A red Malibu passed her on the left and she noticed that they had all of their windows open, too. She felt some form of solidarity.

It was raining hard enough to require windshield wipers, but she didn’t feel satisfied. She looked around the car to make sure there wasn’t anything that couldn’t get really wet, and then she slid back the cover to her sunroof and pushed the button marked “Slide.” As it opened, she caught a glimpse of herself in her rear-view mirror and gave a shrug. She slid her sunglasses off her face and over her hair to help keep her hair tamed with the extra wind… and rain.

The red Malibu rolled its windows up. She laughed.

The light was red. She leaned her head back and looked up out of the sunroof. The raindrops were big and she could see them as they were falling, causing her to squint and blink as each drop landed near her eyes. She knew this rain would pass in a matter of minutes, maybe less, and the heat and humidity of a Southern summer afternoon would quickly take its place. As the light turned green, she took the sunglasses off of her head and shook some of the rain out of her hair. She begrudgingly closed the sunroof as if someone was nagging her to do so while she was left unfulfilled and wanting more. She caught another glimpse of herself in her rear-view mirror and raised her eyebrows as drops of rain were still rolling down her face.

She wasn’t angry anymore. She wasn’t heartbroken either. She questioned for a moment if she was happy. She smiled. She looked at her reflection. Yes, that still felt good and looked normal. Happy? Sure, yes.  If not now, soon. She could be happy soon.

Mt. Kilimanjaro

Here's what "no person ever" starts off saying when they're about to talk about their lifelong dream of climbing a really big ass mountain: I hate exercising. And it's TRUE... But I guess not the whole truth. So here's the reality: swimming, biking, and hiking sounds like a damn good time. It doesn't sound like exercise. Running sounds like exercise. Gyms sound like exercise. Standing in front of machines, "doing reps," sounds like exercise. Having to see people watching themselves workout and flexing in front of mirrors sounds like exercise... or comedy (/tragedy). 

But tell me that I need to condition before going on vacation, and add "swimming, biking, and hiking" to a list of travel preparations, and I. Am. In. I can get behind that. I need to carry a 30 lb pack 50 miles up and down a mountain? I can do that. That works as motivation.  

I decided a few years ago that I wanted to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, which will from here on be referred to as Kili. It was part of a 5-year travel plan. Australia is in there, and Ireland, too. But some part of my soul really loves Africa, and I feel like my first trip will probably be somewhat life changing. So, why not climb one of the world's seven summits, and have that be my introduction to Africa? Plus, I don't really like the "climbing" part of mountain climbing. So I need a mountain that is big, but walking and hiking steep, not sheered off rock faces steep. I don't mind heights, I just don't trust me on the end of a rope propelling my own body weight up thousands of feet, and I don't imagine I'll ever be climbing Everest. 

So how does one plan a Kili trip? My thought: if the trip is going to be about going to Africa and climbing a mountain, which apparently involves a lot of mental and physical perseverance (though I'm known for not taking anything too seriously), it should probably be about the mountain climbing and then about Africa. 

Step 1 - focus on the climbing.

Step 2 - focus on getting in good enough condition that the climb shouldn't be ridiculously arduous and make me wish for an African death.

Step 3 - what do I need to pack?

Step 4 - how can I climb this mountain and pack as little as possible?

Step 5 - climbing Kili means you go in and out of like 4-5 climates. See Step 4.

Step 6 - who can I talk into this? aka "Who's comin' with me??"

Step 7 - shots? ...a lot of shots. Dammit, Africa.

Step 8 - I don't want to have to completely worry about food and water and tents... must find a guided travel option.

Step 9 - I normally do not require amenities, but some kind of comfort on this climb (in Africa) will probably be required. See Step 8.

Step 10 - after the climb, make it about Africa. I hear the guides expect tips and also ask for used gear from climbers. This is understandable. Bring extras. Schools in the Kili area also receive a lot of supplies and donations from the climbers. Fill extra space in luggage with extra necessities to donate.

See you in 2 or 3 years, Kili. (Please don't kill me.) 

Tomato and Watermelon Salad

This is a little bowl of heaven when all the ingredients are at their freshest... like out of the garden fresh. But... please don't eat this salad if you don't like one of these ingredients. Because every bite tastes like all of the ingredients (to me that means delicious), and thanks to most of the ingredients' palate cleansing properties, each bite tastes fresh and new. So if you aren't a fan of basil or arugula, leave it out. But if you aren't a fan of watermelon or tomato (I'm sad for you), don't eat this.

For one serving:

2 handfuls of cubed tomatoes (beefsteak)

2 handfuls of cubed watermelon (seedless)

2 tbsp of feta

a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

5 small basil leaves (torn into tiny pieces)

5 large arugula leaves (torn into medium sized pieces)

Enjoy!

And an added bit of advice: When your bowl looks like this:

DRINK IT!

Finland - let's talk about food.

It's hard to sum up a 2 week vacation in a few sentences and a few pictures, but here goes.... eeehhh on second thought, let's start with food.

The Food: tasty, not what I expected, they've also moved to more processed foods like Americans (though their packaged food has few ingredients and is all made locally), they have a few traditional staples that show up at almost every meal (like karjalanpiirakka - rice pies that you top with butter, cheese, mustard, eggs, meats, and whatever else you can put on top of them and still fit in your mouth) but even the staples come from a store, for the most part.  Finland is home to the potato, but it's a damn fine tasting potato even if it does come peeled and vacuum wrapped from a store.  

Now my experience is largely dependent on our hosts (my far removed, but much loved cousins). They didn't really care for "traditional foods" aka reindeer, fish, and blood sausage. So the only time we saw these foods were at restaurants. (Yes, I tried reindeer. Smoked reindeer, with sour cream, in a waffle. It was salty like a good Italian meat. I declined to try it when it appeared on our restaurant table in a bit of a bloody pool, cooked quite rare. Couldn't do it. Wasn't drunk enough.)

 Food at the cottage, like that above, was great. Most of it did come from the ground or was very fresh, including homemade Rye bread with every meal. The potatoes were straight out of the ground and washed in the river water... no running water at the cottage... That topic is for another time.

 I was there during Juhannus - the week long country-wide summer vacation - so the fact that there was never ending snacking and drinking, might... *might* have had something to do with that fact. Still, we were sitting down drinking coffee and eating sweets every 3 hours. I was never hungry in Finland. Above is a platter full of pastries at one such "snack time." Not pictured is the ice cream, cookies, and chocolates that were on the same snack table.

 Restaurants in Finland were interesting. I'm glad we had locals with us because they would have confused me endlessly if we didn't have someone to explain that lunch isn't really a full menu, you have a few options, you order at a counter, you either pick up your food from another counter or get your food delivered to your table. You never show receipts for anything, they just believe that you paid and that you're supposed to be there as a paying customer. You get your own water, you have a salad bar and coffee for free with every meal, and three kinds of potato might be served on one plate, but you're guaranteed one kind, every time.

 Above is a "veggie burger" aka deep fried potato patty on a bun. Served with a side of french fries.  Where was this meal when I was at the cottage w/ the outhouse? It would have really been nice to have in my Mission: Constipation arsenal.

 We climbed a mountain / rode a ski lift up a mountain just in time for another snack. Above - waffles with cream and apples and a hot chocolate. Order at the counter, get your water and free coffee, pay for your hot chocolate and waffle, waffle gets delivered (in what appeared to be a sit down restaurant with a waitress).

 ...Snack time! Danishes with cheese and apricots, really freaking delicious, to the left - chocolates filled with chocolate, to the right - some kind of sour cream and herb chip dip. They brought out the sweets and the salty treats during this snack time.  Also pictured, the tiny spoons that they eat everything with. Tiny spoons, tiny plates, and tiny water glasses. The beer was 24 oz., the water glass was about 6 oz. (see below). No that isn't a shot glass, that is a water glass.

 I was joked with for eating reindeer food covered with rabbit food... The pizza was called Jakala, meaning lichen (reindeer food) and the mushrooms, veg, and arugula qualified as rabbit food.

 A breakfast spread. I really did love the way they eat. A table filled with variety, take a few bites of each, eat again (from a similar table filled with food) 3 hours later. They made bacon and eggs for us. ...even had "american" cheese. And in the left corner you can see the karjalanpiirakka (rice pies).

In the states, I don't eat doughnuts. In Finland, I'd be a "typical American" aka fat. Because these poppy seed, sugar covered bits of perfection were everywhere and they were always warm, fragrant, and delicious.

Kiitos ja kippis. 

Couscous w/ Mango Guacamole

So I was watching a pbs cooking show over the weekend and the host was kind of dicky about vegetarian food, claiming that every good vegetarian recipe has cheese because that's the only way they can get them to have flavor. Obviously I'm not actually taking this personal; mainly because I love cheese and veggie food w/ cheese, but here's a recipe that I make w/o cheese and with a ton of flavor that satisfies the most critical of meat (and cheese) fans.

Couscous (whole wheat) with black beans, red bell pepper, cilantro, lime juice, and scallions. (Couscous takes 5 mins... aka perfect when you're hungry and lazy.)  The only thing you cook is the couscous, everything else gets thrown in raw. Check the package for your couscous but mine takes boiling water, mixing in the couscous w/ salt and olive oil, taking off the heat, covering, sitting for 5 mins, then fluffing with a fork.  

1 cup cous cous

1 can of black beans

about 1/3 of a red bell pepper

2 scallions

juice of one lime

handful of cilantro (i love it so i use a lot)

black pepper (i salt the cous cous while it is cooking)

Put the beans and the veg in the couscous after you fluff it up, mix, add lime juice and black pepper.

To go on top of couscous: (also easy... just have to chop)

Mango Guacamole:

1 mango

2 avocados

12-15 cherry tomatoes

2 scallions

2/3 of red bell pepper (whatever you didn't put in the couscous)

juice of 1 lime

handful+ of cilantro

s+p

1-2 tbsp of italian dressing (makes the guac creamy w/o adding much flavor, also keeps the avocado from browning)

To spice it all up i use sriracha (to taste... aka a lot). Mix it all up and eat well.

This is what it looked like as I ate the leftovers with some chips and tomatillo salsa from the Mexican place down the street from my work. See, colorful, even a day later.

Dress up

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the deadliest of them all?" she asked her reflection. 

She fastened the last few pins and taped her first and third fingers with black mechanical tape. Glancing back in the mirror she decided to add one more band of tape around her forearm. 

"That's going to hurt like a bitch to peel off later," her sister said, walking into the bathroom. 

"Hey, there's money on the line for best costume. You have to admit that this will win. And that is worth a few arm hairs."

"And your top three layers of skin?" Her sister was bemused but teasing. It wasn't the money that she was after. Halloween was like a one woman performance to her sister. This was her only night to shine now that she had matured, or rather, now that she was in her mid-thirties and couldn't play dress up or go to a legal office wearing clothes that she had made for herself. 

"Why don't you ever dress up? It's Halloween. It's the one time of year that normal people like you get to be someone or something else... go wild... have some fun. Be spontaneous!"

"I like looking like me. And if you think about it, as myself I stand out the most in a room filled with costumed people. Did you ever think about that?"

"Ha. That's funny. I think people probably focus more on the sexy nurses and the sluts wrapped in patent leather."

"You know I was being sarcastic," she said, making a "fuck you" face in the mirror and flicking her sister in the back of the neck. 

"I know."

They arrived at the party and one thing was certain: Jess would win best costume. Few people put their heart into Halloween like she did. Of course, the girls at the party were still playing out the horrible trend of Halloween equals Whore-la-ween, which started some time before they were born but had been haunting their generation since the 90s and had no signs of ending anytime soon. They'd just have to wait until the majority of the ladies had babies, got fat and saggy, and stopped showing off the bottom of their ass cheeks to a room half filled with strangers. Lily didn't mind Halloween. She looked forward to the party. The costumes did make her uncomfortable for a number of reasons though. Lily preferred to always look the same, regardless of being on holiday, or a at a baseball game, or on Halloween. She was one of those women that was entirely comfortable in her own skin. Or, maybe it was more like, she was one of those women that looked and portrayed herself as being entirely and effortlessly comfortable in her own skin, but there was more than enough effort involved. Jess was the wild one. Lily was the laid back one. You know the story. Jess became the center of attention at almost any event. Lily found the handful of people that she wanted to talk with and just enjoyed watching the rest of the room interact. 

They parted company early in the evening but Lily was hearing whispers about Jess' costume all night. The number one question was predictable: what is she supposed to be? Lily just laughed. "She's Jess. She's some dark, deadly, wicked character that Jess probably spent months sketching during her down times."

And then, just like that, the night was over. Lily heard someone whistling from the living room. Costume time was wrapping up and it was time to announce this year's winner. Slowly, like a reluctant herd of costumed cattle, everyone headed for the living room. Throughout the night guests voted by writing the best costume, not the costumed person's name, on a piece of paper and placing their vote in a box on the kitchen table. The host, Jonathon, counted up the votes. He got everyone's attention from midway up the staircase and called for Jess and three other guests to come over to the stairs. The group of four looked fatigued. Alcohol mixed with uncomfortable clothing, thick makeup, and ungodly amounts of hair product always led to the Halloween meltdown. Imagine a waning candle, and the puddle of wax surrounding it or Hollywood make-up under hot lights gone really wrong. Lily disliked the end of the night at costume parties for this very reason. Even if a girl started her night out as a sexy waitress, her eye makeup was now running and her blush and lipstick were smeared, someone had spilled something on her, she was limping due to her four-inch heels, nylons had been ripped, and she could now pass for a zombie in the local college production of Dawn of the Dead. 

Lily's focus snapped back to the evening's host. "Biiiig surprise, everyone!" Jonathon said raising an eyebrow to Lily. "The lovely lady in black and red, with the paint, and safety pins, and tape, who was referred to as both scary and sexy, and also a superhero and an assassin... I'm assuming that means Jess... wins best costume. Nice try to everyone else, but you're amateurs at a professional's table tonight."

Jess just bowed and kissed Jonathon on the cheek. She was accepting of the praise, but Lily could tell that she was tired. Playing a character is exhausting. It was time to head home and go to sleep. When she woke up, she would be herself again, until the world demanded another costume.  

Easy creamy basil balsamic dressing

Put it on anything: salad, chicken, fish, veggies, cooked grains... it's delicious.

One warning... it kinda looks unpleasant. If you want a less poopy brown colored dressing, substitute a champagne or white wine vinegar... but I like balsamic, so what if it makes brown dressing?!

--2 handfuls of basil (blanch in boiling water for about 15-20 seconds. basically make sure that the boiling water touches each leaf. I blanch in a stainless steel wire mesh strainer so that the leaves can't get away and then you can shake all the water off with the same utensil.
--About 1 tbsp of olive oil mayo or homemade mayo
--1 tbsp+ of balsamic vinegar
--extra virgin olive oil needs to double the amount of balsamic vinegar used, so lets say 2 tbsp evoo
--sea salt
--white pepper

After the basil is blanched, shake off all the water and splat it into a blender, then add the other ingredients. Hit the liquefy button on your blender and boom, you have an amazing creamy balsamic and basil dressing that tastes great and makes everything dipped or tossed in it better, I promise.

Side note: I use sea salt out of a grinder and that is about 5 grinds for this recipe, about 10-15 grinds for your pepper mill. And don't use already ground pepper; it tastes like nothing. I don't even know why it exists on restaurant tables.

Oh and fun fact that you might not know, black pepper doesn't digest in your body. It sticks in the little grooves of your intestines... so keep that in mind. I still use plenty of black pepper, but I use other kinds of spice and chiles to spice foods up once I learned this fun fact.  Health side effects of those small folds of your intestines being clogged with black pepper?  WHO knows.

Never leave a mark.

She sat in the airport staring at her hands, picking non-existent dirt from under her fingernails, pushing back her cuticles with the tip of her thumb. She had no cuticles left; she had done this so many times – a cover that she had perfected long ago – looking like she wasn’t interested in what was going on around her, pretending that she didn’t have a care in the world. To the others, she was so bored, in fact, that the only thing keeping her awake was how imperfect her nail beds were.  

A young Army Specialist was sitting next to his girlfriend that he hadn’t seen in over 6 months.  He had done his basic at Fort Knox and the ticket sticking out of his bag suggested that they were going back to his hometown in Kentucky. His body language said that he believed in love. The way she ate her Subway, rather than look at him, said she was trying to decide if all this was worth it. A Persian aunt and niece were talking loudly, a conversation that would have looked and sounded like an argument to most. She knew that they were only talking about the niece’s father (the aunt’s brother) and the fact that he absolutely hated Philadelphia. It was funny, really. A lady in her 90s, requiring a wheelchair, snapped at the gentleman trying to assist her, then realizing she was being unfair, even for someone her age, quickly recovered with an, “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for your help, dear.” The father and son that were waiting for the Rochester flight at gate 17 had an unfortunate and dysfunctional relationship. “Pick your shit up and move,” is hardly the way to talk to an 11 year old.

She was one of a kind, yet appeared to be just another sheep in the flock. She walked alone, under the guise of a business traveler without a companion.  She would make all the required phone calls while surrounded by those heading for vacation or those returning from their board meetings; calling her mother to catch up on the week’s news, calling her boyfriend to let him know she had landed, emailing her coworkers that their days would have to be delayed because she wasn’t going to be able to review the report until after 11. Sending and receiving texts from a friend with relationship troubles and her sister who was looking to invest in a new start-up. From the periphery and to the average outsider, she was busy, content, maybe even lucky. But these were all covers, too. She didn’t want to look lonely. She didn’t want her neighbor that was sharing an elbow rest to think of her as someone wanting or willing to partake in small talk. She actually didn’t want anyone to think of her, period. She didn’t want them to know anything about her and she didn’t want them to be able to remember a detail after she was gone. She’d turn her phone on when the plane landed, because that’s what is normal. She’d make a groan when her phone chirped upon receiving signal, indicating that she had yet another email. She’d call her hotel, asking if they could allow her an early check-in because she’d arrived ahead of schedule. That would be the first time the gentleman in seat 12C would hear her voice, and then her name as she confirmed her reservation. She was pleasant. She would smile, help the older lady with her bag, maybe even her seatbelt, but she would not engage in small talk. If she did, they would retain some fragmented memory of her and probably pass it on eventually to a friend or another airport stranger. It was her job to never be recognized, never leave a mark.

The world is a pretty small place. She’s seen thousands of repeaters – strangers that she’s seen before – from one place and then another. Had they noticed her, spoken to her, been able to place having sat, drank, or eaten with her, she would have to remember, too.

The conversation with her mother was real. There was no office job, however, nor reports to read. Her boyfriend believed she was an executive with clients all over the world and was forced to travel, often. The text messages were mostly encrypted instructions for where she was to head next.  When she called the hotel, that was her boss. When she gave her name, that was her new alias, which she was only repeating for confirmation. They said she could only make it 5 years at this; that was when everyone maxed out, they insisted. She was well into year 6…

Finland

They say that it is the planning and anticipation of long-awaited travel that really feeds and heals your soul. (One possible reason why last minute vacations just never feel quite as satisfying.) With that in mind, I've started thinking about my upcoming trip to Finland, which I just discovered from looking at a map, will span almost the entire country. We're starting in Helsinki and ending up in the region north of the Arctic Circle known as Lapland, in a small cottage in Luosto.  Along the way we'll stop in Vahakyro, Vaasa, and Ylistaro, where current (3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th?) cousins still live. In fact, Ylistaro is still home to my grandfather's ancestral family farm, and a cousin still owns the property.

Some people travel and love being tourists. I don't mind those people one bit, I'm just not one of them. Show me a place as an insider. Show me the country, show me the culture. I actually don't mind that I never went to Rome while I was in Italy. I much preferred spending a week on the Lignano beaches where we were the only American tourists within miles. I loved having to take pictures of signs on the way to Oido, just so we could compare the Korean characters, in hope of finding our way back, one "breadcrumb" at a time. And drinking beer with Korean students and Korean Americans while eating chicken butthole might have been one of the most ridiculous nights of my life. Don't judge - "when in ...Korea," right? I'd rather do what the locals do and go where the locals go. So this trip to Finland is going to really be tough to beat, I think, on a personal level.  Not that Finland has a large tourist population, but I like that the only place where I'll have a clue what anyone is saying, being that the majority will probably speak fluent English, is in Helsinki, where I'll spend maybe 24 hours, flying into and out of the country. I'm excited to spend time with extended family and learn about their home, in broken Finn-English. And while slightly nerve wracking, even driving through Finland, mostly on our own, stuttering to pronounce the road signs, and hoping the GPS speaks English, will be quite amusing. Oh and though it's probably too much to ask, I'm hoping the cottage in Luosto shows up on the GPS, which is doubtful. Hell, I'm hoping the cottage in Luosto has plumbing, which is, again, doubtful. Finns bathe only once a week and really enjoy the whole sauna/swimming in a lake thing, don't you know?

So... what do I hope to do?

• I've heard the produce in Finland is great in the Summer - strawberries and potatoes, in particular.
• We're going to be there for the Finnish Summer Solstice, which is a big deal. They have a week long celebration that culminates in a 24 hour bonfire/drinking/swimming/eating celebration. This will be how we begin our trip. Only time will tell if the next few days after are labeled as "recovery" in the photo album.
• They're big on reindeer. I'd like to see some. I don't want to eat one, but I might. When in Finland, eh? 
• They're big on blood... blood sausage, blood pancakes. I find it hard to believe that I'll partake here.
• Gonna have to try that sauna / swimming in a lake combo.
• Very excited to see the homes and ancestral farm.
• It will be my 2nd adventure north or the Arctic Circle, and for now, I can only imagine what this trip north has in store.

Southern charm

…

Annie had hired two Mexican day laborers to build a greenhouse behind the servant’s entrance in the back of the house. She had seen them sitting across from the hardware store in the bed of a Ford pickup, and yes they were illegals, but she knew the system only existed because it worked, so she felt no shame in offering them a few days worth of work for a fair wage. Besides that, she was uncomfortable soliciting someone from town, knowing the trip down memory lane that she’d be forced to travel and the unwelcome questions she'd be forced to politely refuse to answer.

Miguel and Mike, as they referred to one another, knew what they were doing.  In two days they were finished building the greenhouse’s frame and structure and were advising Annie on what magazines to buy seed, soil, and fertilizer from. When they asked if they could help with any other work on the house, Annie was actually excited to show them around. So Annie, Miguel, and Mike walked in and out of every room checking off things that needed to be done, with Annie vetoing any suggestions that just seemed beyond her concern. When they were done, Annie had agreed to about 2 weeks more of their time, and she had added 2 additional illegal contractors to her list of laborers – friends of her new friends, of course. She knew that they would be painting, hanging new drywall, and fixing pipes and wires for longer than that though. And after they were done it would be time to fix the roof or clean out the gutters, and maybe they could help her decide what to do with all of her newly reacquired acreage. They agreed to get started on the inside one week later, giving Annie time to unpack and see what else wasn’t working in the old Wilson House.

As Miguel and Mike left the house, Annie followed them out and onto the porch, mentally adding four new acquaintances to her hometown "outsider insider list." She was happy to have the company being that it was a very short list, for the time being. Out of the corner of her eye, she was set aback to see a shadow being cast around the corner of the house of a man rocking in her rocking chair. She was uncomfortable with the thought of who was sitting on her porch, in her chair, how long they had been there, and what they wanted. She'd only been back for a few days, but everyone in town had probably known for weeks that she had bought her parents' house back from her brother. "The girl who had turned her back to travel the world had come back to dig up dirt on her country town," she was sure they thought. Few people were happy to see her, though a true outsider would have thought nothing of the kind. She, as an insider, had always been able to see through the thick and fallacious Southern charm that interlopers mistook as sincere and endearing. She'd seen plenty of it the last few days. With a smile on their faces and an intentionally inquisitive tone to their voices, they'd ask with their shifting eyes, "What are you doin' back home, Hon?" In reality, they were uneasy about her being back. They didn't know why the big city journalist was back in their town. She didn't need trouble sitting on her front porch, hiding and waiting to ruin her night.

Annie turned the corner to see who was there, but the sun was setting and she couldn’t see much more than a black blur. “I’ve gotten five phone calls this week telling me that Annie Wilson moved back to Magnolia,” a familiar voice said. 

Annie relaxed. This wasn't one of them, but she couldn't place the voice. She squinted and almost winced at how bright the sun was. She held her hand up trying to block the violently brilliant orange light, typical of the Southern setting sun, but was still unable to recognize through the spaces in her fingers the dark seated shadow with the familiar voice.

“Did you come back to save this place?” his deep Southern drawl was sincere, and had always been a turn on for Annie.

“I really am sorry, but you’re gonna have to give me a second to…” Annie stopped as the man stood up and she recognized that undeniable and unforgettably wavy hair. “Will?” she whispered. Annie took three quick steps and reached for her friend. Standing on her toes, she gave him a hug, and he greeted her as he had for so many years, “Hi, Sweetheart,” he said with a smile in his voice, kissing her cheek through her hair.

… 

To walk a day on those pads...

"You should stop watching tv. Go outside. Have some fun. Go play on the swing set," his mom said. Her son turned around to look up at her.

"Ok. I'm kinda bored. I don't really want to play on the swings though. I can't decide what I want to do," the little boy said scrunching his face.

"Hmmm... time to use your imagination. If you could do anything you wanted today, what would you want to do?"

After thinking for less than a minute, the boy got up from the spot where he always sat, on the floor, in front of the tv, and declared with a pointed finger in the air, “today I’m going to be the cat!”  

“I’m going to lie around the house and move from place to place following the sun. I’m going to swish my tail ever so slightly for most of the day, and then whip it back and forth whenever the dog walks by. I’m going to lick my paw and lazily clean my ears and whiskers. I’m going to look you in the face with big round eyes, and blink, blink, blink, instead of responding. When you’re out of the room, I’m going to scream, “MMMmmmmeeeeoooowwww?” When you least expect it, I’m going to jump off the chair in the living room, run to the dining room, jump to the table, then to the counter, then to the top of the pantry cupboard. From there I'll tease the dogs. When you go outside, I’m going to stretch up on my hind feet and bat at the door handle. I’m going to scream a slightly different, “MmmmmmEEEooooWWW!!” I'll beg to go outside and when you let me out, I'll eat grass, and attack bugs, and hunt birds. When a car drives by I'll pouf up real big, and when somebody walks past the house, I'll hiss because I hate strangers. When you’re walking up or down stairs, I’ll try to trip you. I’m going to jump up and rub on your knee, run two stairs in front of you, wait, and weave into your legs. Anytime you move, I’m going to follow you. I'll be your shadow. When you go into the bathroom, I'll sit and scream at the door until you let me in. Then I'll sit and watch you 'til I get bored. Then I'll try and knock all of your soaps and creams off of the counter and into the sink. I'll also pull out the sink stoppers because I hate those things. I'll pull some toilet paper off the roll and try to eat it as fast as possible before you can get to me and make me spit it out. At night, I’ll hear you open a bottle of pop. I don’t know what room I’ll be in or how far away I’ll come running from, but I’ll come. If you don’t give me the bottle cap, I’ll rub my face all over the mouth of the bottle. If you walk away from the bottle, I might knock it over… if you don’t give me the cap. After you throw the cap for me to chase, I’ll fetch it and then take it into the laundry room and put it in my food. I’ll eat around it like I haven’t eaten in days. When I’m full, I’ll bring the bottle cap back to you, and you will play with me. If you don’t play with me, if you don’t pay attention to me, I'll dig my claws into your nice leather furniture… or maybe I’ll jump onto your bookshelf and start knocking off all your little knickknacks. I'll make you play with me. While you’re getting ready for bed, I’ll start planning my night. There will be a lot that I need to take care of while everyone in the house is sleeping. I need to throw up somewhere. That will take a bit of time to plan. Should it be in the kitchen where someone will step on it and everyone will see it? Or should it be in a corner somewhere and you won’t see it for days? I’ll also need to knock over your garbage can. I’m sure there is something in there that you’ve been keeping from me. I’ll pull those stoppers out of the sink again because I’m sure you’ve put them back in by now. I also need to jump into bed before you’ve tucked in so that I can make sure I get the best sleeping position.  Around five, I’ll wake you up so you can give me another handful of food. You love that. At some point, I’ll knock something off your desk. It'll fall on the dog. She’ll jump up all scared and stupid. That will make me happy.”

“And just like that you’ve got a busy day planned,” his mother said chuckling and shaking her head.

The little boy just looked his mother in the face. And with big round eyes, he blinked - blink, blink, blink - instead of responding. 

R&R

He sat in the cold watching his breath. It was dark, which meant it was after 3am. He could feel that winter was right around the corner again. He was picturing himself on the gray beaches. He could hear the waves from his front steps. He didn't deserve such beauty, he thought, so he closed his eyes tightly. He shook his head, trying to erase the images of sunsets and elder fishing camps. His son was sitting on the couch, watching his father's shadow through the front window. It was a behavior his family was familiar with. He lived in a permanent haze, afterall. Today it was at its best though. It was payday, which meant he was able to buy the good stuff. 

Every other Thursday, like today, he drinks R&R. By mid-week he's moved to Listerine. When times get desperate he'll settle for gasoline.

Sure he's an addict. He's also just getting by, coping with his life. The village kids walk past him and mutter. The grandmothers shake their heads, hissing and pointing, intending to scold. The troopers know his first, last, and middle names, but they still show proper respect. His wife remembers a better year, and she loves his children harder because of who their father was. When he sobered up, there was always another apology to make. He felt he was always apologizing. He was ready to do what was best for his family. He wasn't afraid to die. They would be better if he was better, but they'd also be better if he was gone, a hard realization for a father, husband, brother, and son. He stumbled out the front door while the sun was peaking over the horizon.

The local bank had two cameras - one for each door - and is open 6 days a week. The distribution center had eleven cameras and a single door and is only open 2 weeks a month. The bank tellers knew everyone in the village by name, but never knew who they'd see on any given day. At the distribution center, the clerk was waiting. He knew who he would see on the second Friday of every month. He knew everyone in the village that still had enough money to buy another bottle of the good stuff.

Duckball

This is Durga and her Duckball...

This is what is on Durga's mind most times...

(Sung to the tune of the 1960s Batman theme song.)

"Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL! 

Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury... DUCKBALL!

Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL!"

***


She takes the toy away.


***


"Give it back. Why are you taking it? I want it. Give it back. That's my duckball.

(20 mins later) Why did you take duckball? I want it back. Give it back. Did you hide it somewhere? Is it under here? Is it up there on that thingy? Where is it? 

(another 20 mins later) I miss duckball."

***

"Here. Go play upstairs," she says as she tosses the toy.

***

"DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKBAAAAAAAAALL!

(Still being sung to the tune from the 1960s Batman theme song.)

Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL!

Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury... DUCKBALL!"