dont-knows and donuts

A note arrived in our mailbox earlier this week with news from our landlord that she would be listing our house for sale. We love our little abode, yet this somehow seemed an appropriate piece of news, fitting with the theme of uncertainty in my life right now. Where are we going to live?? Yes, I would love another helping of the unknown, please. 

After applying to residencies all over the US, I am trying to embrace the uncertainty of where next year may find us with an open mind. Although residency more simply refers to the continuation of my medical training, it also comprehensively refers to us actually residing somewhere. I can picture our life in _____, exploring their food scene and Quimby running around in our new backyard there. We can be really happy in _____ and make good new friends. If you know me at all, this looooooving embrace with uncertainty is probably shocking to you. Guess what? It is kind of shocking to me too, but I am thankful for the new perspective.

So, the house: this could have been great news if it had come in March. You see, March brings “Match Day,” and as absolutely terrifying as that day will be, at least the uncertainty concerning residency will be over. We will know where we are going, what the next 5 to 10 years of our life may look like, and whether or not Ben needs to start searching for another job in ______.  We can start transitioning into a new adventure somewhere and pack up our house with some solid plan of where to unpack it.

With trust that this plan is out of my hands (and in better ones), I want to learn peace in this season of uncertainty. I want to enjoy these moments of musing about what tomorrow could bring, what new places and faces we can discover. I want to experience what it feels like to be without a plan, without control and still feel content. With impeccable timing in this trajectory of thought, my friend Mel emailed me some wisdom in the form of an essay by one of our loved writers, Shauna Niequist. Read it for yourself if you’d like, and perhaps we will all learn to appreciate a little uncertainty http://storylineblog.com/2013/09/25/why-you-should-accept-a-life-less-predictable/

Glazed pumpkin donuts with gingersnap almond crumbs

Glaze:

2 ½ cups powdered sugar

¼ teaspoons cinnamon

¼ teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

splash of milk

Donuts:

Can of biscuits

Pumpkin cream cheese

Vegetable oil

Gingersnaps (about ½ cup)

Almond paste (about 1 tablespoon)

Cut each biscuit in half. Form into a ball and push your thumb into the middle to create a pocket (do not overwork the biscuit dough or it will become tough). Use a knife to fill the pocket with the pumpkin cream cheese then pinch the edges together to seal the pocket.

Whisk together glaze ingredients in a deep bowl and set aside.

Whiz up about gingersnaps and almond paste in a food processor until crumbly.

Heat oil about 1 inch deep to medium high heat. Fry donuts, one side at a time (until golden brown on each side). Transfer donuts directly from oil into your glaze and toss (gently!) with a spoon until coated.

Sprinkle donuts with gingersnap-almond crumb and serve hot!

Spanish Paella

Nothing serves to remind me how dearly I value my husBen as much as his absence (yes, just a personal confession that I understand the maxim “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”) Since starting his real job a few weeks ago, he often has to go back up to the office after he comes home for dinner, and he stays there until after I go to sleep. I am proud of him for working so hard even if this hard work inadvertently lends itself to less time with me... I can only hope this “earning your stripes” slows down once the stripes are earned. With the careers we signed up for, however, our hearts may be “growing fonder” until we are into our 70s.

Since I am newly soooo in love again, I made paella for husBen last week (for 3 reasons):

#1 I have time this month (and this takes a long time)

#2 I have a fabulous copper skillet I have been dying to use

#3 We once fell madly in love over paella

Let me explain. Ben and I spent a study abroad in Spain following our sophomore year in college. We signed up for the trip together after only a few short months of dating, at a point when I still hardly took the blossoming relationship that seriously because I still viewed myself to be something of a Miss Independent (I had my roommates for the coming of age conversations, my church for the spiritual guidance, and my big brother for protection). Then I had this cute red-head in hot pursuit of me who just thought I was the bee’s knees (I don’t know what he saw, but I am sure glad he saw it). So said red-head and I go off to Spain because that’s what adventuresome young college kids do, right?

In that foreign country, I realized for the first time that husBen could take care of me. I realized that he could protect me and advise me. He could encourage me and struggle with me in matters of spirituality. He could talk future with me and we could divulge the parts of our past that mattered. He could enjoy good food with me and discern a good wine from a bad one. And he was just so darn handsome.

Maybe it was the buzz of the Rioja and the walks on the beach. Maybe it was the art and the cathedrals. Maybe it was the captivating language and the late night studying together. Or maybe it was the paella.

Whatever it is, I am still growing fonder.

Chicken, Shrimp, and Chorizo Paella

simmering in the copper skillet

ready to eat, my love!

40 threads saffron, crushed

4 chicken thighs

12-15 large shrimp, peeled and deveined

¼ cup olive oil

¾ cup chorizo, crumbled

1 tablespoon smoked paprika

3 good sized tomatoes, minced

5 garlic cloves, minced

1 onion, chopped

6 cups chicken broth

2 cups short grain rice, preferably Valencia

1 red pepper, sliced into 1 inch strips

salt and pepper to taste

Italian parsley, chopped, for garnish

Add saffron to ¼ cup hot water and allow to sit for about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, season chicken and shrimp with salt and pepper. Heat up a wide skillet with olive oil over medium-high heat. Sear chicken on each side. Remove from skillet. Add shrimp and chorizo to skillet for about 5-10 minutes (shrimp may be done quicker, so make sure to pay attention here). Remove shrimp from skillet and return chicken to the skillet with the chorizo.

Add in paprika, garlic, tomatoes, and onion to pan and stir often until the onions soften, about 10-15 minutes. Add in saffron broth and chicken broth along with a dash of salt and bring to a rolling boil.

Sprinkle in the rice over the whole skillet along with the red peppers. Cook without stirring until the rice absorbs most of the liquid (may take about 20 minutes). My pan was much larger than my burner, so I had to be ever-present in order to turn the pan and distribute the heat evenly. If this is your case too, I hope you have someone interesting sitting in your kitchen with you while you stand over the hot stove, as this part actually took a good 40 minutes for me. Give the skillet a good stir in order to redistribute the remainder liquid, then reduce your heat to low. Add back in the shrimp and continue to simmer until the rice has absorbed all the liquid, about 5-10 minutes more. Turn up the heat at the last minute to high and cook for 1-2 minutes more to create a crust on the bottom of the dish (termed the “socarrat”, so good). Remove your dish from the heat and allow to cool for a few minutes. Salt and pepper to taste, sprinkle with parsley, then serve it to someone you are falling in love with. 

adults?

What makes you an adult?

Is it getting married? It is having your first job? Is it living in a house with a lawn (that we are supposed to be mowing ourselves, what is that about?)? Is it marked by some sort of age-acquired wisdom that only develops in a person over time that allows them to start acting in a responsible, future-centric way? I mean, what are we striving for here?

Ben started his first job last week. I do not think anything has changed in his demeanor, although his attitude towards the opportunity to work may have shifted. Having a job probably feels more like a privilege on a pedestal when you are a good 3 feet (or 3 months) away from it, not as much when you are still sitting at this coveted job’s desk at midnight. At least he looks good in a suit and can still birdie a hole anytime he actually makes it out to the golf course.

It is bizarre to me to acknowledge that this is the beginning of a new stage of life for him/us, as I still feel so young. I used to imagine that future landmarks—graduation, marriage, first job, first kid—would be met by some older, wiser version of myself, but since hitting a few of those have learned otherwise. We are in constant evolution, a dynamic that guarantees to keep us wondering: how would I approach this (any) situation if I were 10 years down the road? How would I structure my priorities, and what influences would inform my decision making then? Realistically, I know that no static self of mine will ever make all the best decisions. There is no reaching personal perfection or frame of thought which lends itself to absolute right living. We can only approach life as who we are in that day or year, and hope that our older self’s hindsight will be kind in the interpretation of our youth.

I am trying to stay cognizant of where I am as well…and that is my 4^th year of medical school…wherein the advice I have received most consistently is to “have fun.” Never again will I have 3 months off during my academic year (wait, never again will I have an academic year). This season of life has been busy thus far, but after I turn in my application to residency on Sunday, I hope to ease into it with newfound peace. I do not promise to slow down, but I do promise to say yes to more fun, more friends and family, more being present.

I think we might survive this embrace with adulthood quite well actually…

Two so different, yet so appreciated

Before I forget the exact tastes and feelings of the moment (or two moments in particular, rather), let me please just divulge. My two favorite meals of our vacation juxtapose each other quite nicely, so very different in their plates, context, and company, yet so very high up on my list of highlights over the past few years.

TUESDAY: Consensus reached that our meal at Redd in Yountville (home of the famed French Laundry) tops all others in the past few years of our marriage. Our reservation taunted us all afternoon until a late 8:30 when we finally sat down in our little corner booth, 1 glass of Green and Red Zinfandel warming our mood already. We each ordered the 5 course tasting menu and ended up tasting a fantastic 10 courses by the end, as each course presented itself with a different plate from the kitchen for us both (which of course I nudged husBen to only eat half of so that we could switch and taste double). I felt myself falling more in love with husBen over each bite as we ooed and ahhed over the presentation and then the complexity of flavors on our tongues. Sashimi of hamachi, sticky rice, soy ginger sauce. Yellowfin tuna taretare, asian pear, avocado, chili oil and cilantro. Switch. Duck confit salad with stone fruit, haricot vert, fried shallots, and balsamic vinaigrette. Carnaroli risotto, maine lobster, meyer lemon confit, truffle oil. Switch! We felt present and satisfied and so lucky to share this moment with another equally appreciative of food. And he just looked so darn handsome…Glazed pork belly, apple puree, burdock and soy caramel. Caramelized diver scallops, capers, almonds and golden raisins. Need I continue?

A meal like this merits attention, and mind you, we bowed and praised it. We could not stop talking about it for days. We appreciated those hours, those tastes, that person across the table. We indulged in sitting and letting ourselves slow down enough to be amazed. Sometimes that makes a meal. 

THURSDAY: We rolled the bar car out of the corner of the kitchen of Paige’s adorable studio apartment into the bedroom/living room to serve as our “dining room table.” I had been cooking all afternoon while Paige and her boyfriend worked (they have real jobs) and was so in my element searching through drawers and cabinets for the right tools that I hardly noticed the passing of time. Paige arrived home and dressed the cart in a tablecloth; Steve set the table like only a well reared boy from the South could; I began to crowd the top with dishes and snacks meant to share; husBen poured the Kuleto Rosé, our only tangible souvenir from Napa. Roasted figs atop arugula (both farmer’s market finds from earlier that week) with candied walnuts, blue cheese and honey vinaigrette. Halibut with caramelized soy ginger glaze (maybe me trying to emulate the flavors of our meal at Redd). Flatbread with garlic infused olive oil and basil, served with burst heirloom tomatoes and fresh burrata (inspired by one of our favorite dishes back home at Pass & Provisions in Houston). Two people sat on the couch with chins up to the table and two in chairs, but we were each reclining fully by the end of the meal. I cannot recall the subject of our conversation or the root of our laughter, but I do recall the feeling of wanting to stay at this table forever (or at least for hours and hours, which is a rare feeling in me to want to sit still). 

These people, this comfort…this is a blessing. This a is a rare find in life. This whole scene in my mind still brings a sigh of appreciation for these friends and intentionality around a table.

What are your favorite times around the table? When and what do you appreciate?  A meal? A face? The perfect marriage of the two?

vacation

It smelled of coffee and toast when I first opened my eyes this morning. The bright sun and cool California air streaming in through the cracked window made me aware that I had actually slept through the whole night, a rare comfort these days. HusBen and I arrived in San Francisco on Saturday and have been continuously eating and drinking since we landed. Prosciutto, ricotta, basil, and fig on French bread at Fatted Calf. Hazelnut pound cake with black mission figs and honey Chantilly with a Whizbang (scotch, vermouth, grenadine, absinthe, and bitters) at Bar Agricole. Sliced mangalica ham and melon with gooseberries and warm bread at Tartine. Wine on a blanket in the park with good friends. Brown sugar ice cream with caramel and ginger swirl at Bi-Rite creamery. Sherry ice cream with roasted figs and pralined almonds at Chez Panisse in Berkeley. Too much. But just the right amount of too much to call it vacation.

I am appreciating sitting still and sipping slowly this vacation. After a few days in San Francisco with my best friend Paige, her boyfriend Steve, and our friend Chandra from Houston, HusBen and I snuck off to Napa for a little vacation within our vacation—as sometimes I tend to overbook fun in the city—and now I really feel separated enough from our busy lives to calm down. “Calm down:” a good piece of advice I can take full stock of in this place (and hopefully return home with the ability to do as well). Removed from our school/work/obligations, I realize how thankful I am that we are privileged with such future careers, but also grateful for a step back from them sometimes. Just to pay attention to each other. And sleep.

More to come in the way of pictures (yes, mostly of food and yes, some are from my Instagram) but here are some starters…

Cheers ya'll,

H

tuesday and pizza and passion

I have a lot of energy. I want to label it “passion,” but I fear it may be—more than occasionally—a product of nerves unbridled. I am just so excited about my future, about the plan I have idealized, but also entirely insecure about my ability to carry it out, that my zeal seems overtly spastic (despite the claimed clarity of it all in my head).

I just finished the 2^nd season of this show called The Killing. The main character (or the one I like the most anyway) becomes obsessed—and I mean truly forgetting-to-eat-and-sleep obsessed—with solving the murder presented in the first episode. She continually finds herself in trouble (physical, mental, and occasionally legal) for failing to heed the guidance of authority or concern for self.

I rethink my “energy” when I watch this show. I do not want to focus so obsessively on my future that I lose tact with the present. Right now is exciting. Right now merits my attention as well. Right now is a gift.

You know what is also a gift? Tuesdays. They follow Monday. Which only means anything at all if you had Sunday off. But if you did, you appreciate Tuesday. I usually appreciate Tuesdays because they mean grilled pizza. We get together with these couple friends of ours and attempt an effort at focusing our minds up to God for a moment, in between grilled pizza and a cocktail, for good conversation and eternal-type moments. Now you should understand why I like Tuesdays…and the present. 

Here's the run-down: buy or make a fabulous crust. Heat up your grill while you make a cocktail. Throw the crust on the grill. Flip it then top it with things you like (last time this meant crumbled blue cheese, crisped prosciutto, arugula and honey). Serve it with another cocktail...and more good conversation.

Grilled Peach Ice Cream with Gingersnap and Caramel

At some point in my elementary school education, my mom thought it a wise idea to sign me up for sewing camp. You are probably stooped as to what “sewing camp” could actually entail but let me please just remind you that a) I am from a small town and b) obviously sewing is a marketable skill for women these days (oh wait, maybe its not). My mom would drop me off each day with my sac lunch and sewing tool box and I would belly up to a table with a bunch of other girls whose moms thought this was a good use of summer. We took direction from little old ladies as our machines buzzed and we chatted and I actually do recall kind of getting into it (okay, I admit I liked it). We made pouches and pajama pants and a few other non-essentials, but more importantly, we learned how to sew. We learned how to create. We perpetuated this lost art of homemaking that somehow our career-driven has opted to drown out.

husBen left for Michigan on Wednesday to join his family at their lake house so I have been flying solo all week. I have mostly busied myself working then hanging out with friends each night (thanks for taking care of my time good friends) so as not to slip into quiet solitude (which I occasionally don’t mind doing, but could produce in me an antisocial indulgence if I habituate myself in the practice for too long). Finally reaching some free time on Friday night, I lugged out my sewing machine and plopped it down on the dining room table with good intention to tailor a dress that I wanted to wear out; I had committed to “go out” with my kid brother on a Friday night, which meant I had to wait around til 11 o’clock when these freshly post-grad kids deem it finally acceptable to begin their night. 

My sewing machine is ancient, but still functional. I just stared at it initially, wondering if I really even remembered how to use it. Then my hands grabbed the thread and then with some sort of intrinsic guidance, began to trace it around the necessary twists and turns in order to load it (the muscle memory involved in this task truly amazed me, that somehow the recesses of my brain stored this information as valuable and allowed me to recall it). I appreciated my mom in that moment for forcing my skinny awkward elementary school self into such a thing as sewing camp.

To further my home-skills this week, I also made some ice cream. I recently saw a recipe for homemade vanilla in Bon Appétit and thought I ought to jazz it up a bit. The basic recipe for Vanilla is below but feel free to doctor it up as you please!

Grilled Peach Ice Cream with Gingersnap and Caramel

Combine 1 1/2 cups heavy cream, 1 cup whole milk, 1/4 cup sugar, and a pinch of kosher salt in a medium saucepan. Split 1/2 vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape in seeds; add pod (or use 1 teaspoon vanilla extract). Bring mixture just to a simmer, stirring to dissolve sugar. Remove from heat. If using vanilla bean, cover; let sit 30 minutes. Whisk 5 large egg yolks and 1/4 cup sugar in a medium bowl until pale, about 2 minutes. Gradually whisk in 1/2 cup warm cream mixture. Whisk yolk mixture into remaining cream mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thick enough to coat a wooden spoon, 2–3 minutes. Strain custard into a medium bowl set over a bowl of ice water; let cool, stirring occasionally. Process custard in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

(Straight from BA, August 2013)

I made the above recipe then…

Grind 2 cups of gingersnaps and 1 tube of almond paste in a food processor until it resembles sand.

Slice 3 firm peaches and soak in a bowl with 2 tablespoons Amaretto liquer, ½ teaspoon cinnamon, 1 tablespoon brown sugar and a pinch of salt. Grill on a grill pan rubbed with butter for about 2 minutes on each side (over medium-high heat).

Layer your homemade vanilla ice cream with alternating layers of gingersnap crumbs and the grilled peaches. Serve drizzled with warm caramel sauce. Share with people you love.