Friday, October 24, 2014

Little Bo Peep Savory Oatmeal Pot Pie



I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties
 through my love for truth - and truth rewarded me.


(Simone de Beauvoir)

Monday, October 20, 2014

Monday Musings (October 20, 2014)


Being it's Autumn and all, the world is still terribly green. There's a slight golden vignette, but other than the tips and frills, most everything is verdant and just green; almost annoyingly so. I'm not sure whether to disregard or embrace this awkward state.

Meanwhile, I've been cozying it up at home, doing not much but a whole lot at the same time. I have this urge to create but I just can't seem to find my muse. Nothing feels right, almost myopic. Writing, lately, doesn't feel right, almost forced. Again, it's verging on annoying, and I'm not quite sure what to do with the notion. The universe is on someone else's side these days, and all I can do is hope that they're savoring every moment of it. This sounds like a breakup letter, I know, but I'm not going anywhere. Scout's honor.



These are some photos that I took while on an adventure earlier this week, trying to spark some sort of creativity. There were big fat mushrooms growing around my feet and the wind grew rosey bouquets in my cheeks. That; that felt good. I'll spare you arachnophobes of the spider pictures I took, even though, I'll admit, they're more than a bit dazzling.

Here are a few of my favorite links from the week. Not many, but enough. Quality over quantity, my friends. Have a lovely week!


-The other week I mentioned Linda's (of Call Me Cupcake) Icelandic Adventure. She just posted Iceland Part II & it's definitely worth checking out. Warning to those with wanderlust.

-"I'm on a mission to sprinkle a little bit of beautiful into your everyday," is the first line I read on Jacquelyn Clark's blog, Lark & Linen. She had me at hello, and then reeled me in with beautiful interiors, delicious recipes (this Oreo Cookie Butter in particular!), and her gentle sense of style.

-Chocolate Tahini Cake with Rosemary Buttercream, an anniversary, & snarky love poetry. Enough
said.

-This Cinnamon Swirl Bread with Apples, Dates, & Walnuts would make a lovely brunch.

-I've been on this salty sweet kick lately (lately as in always), so everything about this Rosemary Lemon Cake sounds just alright with me.

-Breaking news. It turns out, when Toby Keith wrote Huckleberry, he wasn't talking about his sweetheart. He was talking about this cake.

-For all those like me who stay up until the wee dark-going-on-light hours, here are 12 Midnight Snacks to help you through.

-Just the other day, I was attempting to describe the art of galette-ing to Ashley, who came home from college for the weekend. I was trying to have a semi-serious conversation, but all she did was make goat sounds, because apparently galette = goat. My point is that if you're genuinely interested in the art of galette-ing, Food52 shares how to go about this, artlessly, with How To Make Any Savory Galette Without A Recipe.


*To read more of my Monday Musings, 
click the LIFE tab at the top of the page.*

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Harvest Oatmeal In An Acorn Squash & A Seasonal Eating Guide


Here, it is dark. Look down the far end of the street, where the trees close in a canopy, like shadow fingers folding over one another, and you'll find the dark. Nights are no longer midnight blue, and sunsets are quick, if there at all, making everything seem that much more ephemeral. 

Here is where rabbits run down holes in December when the weather turns cold, and foxes make too many tracks, most in the wrong direction. It is here Walk down that street- watch your step- round back to where the creek runs and the rocks are slick with algae and gasoline. Down, down the forest wall, you’ll find a hole to hunch over through, a fallen tree, and a good amount of carrion. The air tastes like smoke, gunpowder, cigarettes, and occasionally, pomegranate. Forbidden things. It’s here where hearts fall like leaves in autumn. You can hear them bellowing towards each other, like melodies blown into empty bottles, which litter the dirt floor along with rusted pop cans, old gloves, and vintage peppermint tins.

Darkness saunters in like a cat on its haunches, in the peculiar way that only cats and other caliginous creatures can saunter. And it sits. It sits, longer than any other dark I have ever known, and I have known quite a lot. And if you sit with it too long among it, it swallows you right up. No longer a saunter, it comes over you with the sense of the earth under you, and the fingers close over you, and there you are in the hot & cold hands of the night. 

Here, life is heavy, dark, and terribly flourescent all at once, and anyone with a candle wax spine will melt faster than Icarus’ wings at the speed of light.