My food people.


I wrote an article for RELEVANT, kind of hoping that they would snatch it right up and declare it the best piece they’ve ever had submitted. But alas, they already had an article on the same subject ready to go.

Oh well. Better results next time, perhaps.

So, instead I read my eyeballs out for American literature and wrote a short story while sitting on the deck on the third floor of my building. It’s sunny and in the high 60s today, which is a welcome introduction into spring weather. I think I got a little pink while I sat out there with my laptop, typing away about two old guys who are regulars at a coffee shop.

It’s probably not an amazing story, but sometimes you just have to sit down and write something that you might know a little something about, even if it’s mediocre. Because if you try to write something you know nothing about, then it will not only not be amazing, it might really stink.

Here’s the other news: we’re talking about what an American is in my American lit class. It’s funny because most of the people in there are European, so there’s a very different lens than I’m used to. Also, I’m realizing that I’m not sure what an American is. I’m not sure what we are historically or if you can even put a label on what is really “American.” I like what one of Dickens’ character who traveled a lot said; rather than being from a specific place, he was “a citizen of the world.”

I also like cookies. So I decided to bake some, because baking feels like home, even though all the tools and ingredients are foreign.

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Meet Austrian ingredients. Can you read any of that? Kudos if you can. Also note the recipe with grams as a measurement. WHAT?DSCN5519

The lovely dough balls, waiting to have a chemical reaction in the oven.DSCN5520Mother dough lump.

The after picture of the cookies is basically the same shape as the before picture. They weren’t anything particularly beautiful, but my flatmate said that they were “soooo good.” And I think I agree.

On the list of great food items of the past 24 hours: crêpes. Yes, crêpes. Made by a French person and eaten with French people. And a Canadian. And a West Virginian.DSCN5528

Photographic evidence of friendships. I think true friends eat together, and this group embraces that. We hadn’t even gotten up from the table before planning what we were going to eat together next.

Oh, I like food people.

 

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blessings of a Saturday.


DSCN0004Any day that starts out with crepes can’t be too bad.

Also, any January day that isn’t bitterly cold is pretty good, actually.

Especially when it includes a sight like this.  If you get to see anything in Chicago, stand on the steps of the Field Museum at sunset and just enjoy.  It’s beautiful.

Since it’s barely still today, that’s all I’ll say.

 

Donut and Myers-Briggs day.


I don’t believe I’ve had a day like this in a long time.  And I’m not sure how to categorize it, but it’s one of those types that stands alone.  It started with a donut, so that is your hint that it’s been a positively unique day.

Well, actually, to be honest, it started with yogurt so that I wouldn’t feel too bad about the donut.  And crêpe.

And vanilla latté.

Well, we all have our weaknesses, right?  Mine just happens to be in the bakery category.  It’s fairly easy to stay away from the baked goods in our school cafeteria since I know that they will likely disappoint, but at Beijo de Chocolat it’s a different story.  It’s a Brazilian chocolate shop (award-winning as one of the best in the country for two years in a row! I’m telling you, you’ve gotta come take a bite.) with chocolate paraphernalia, rich coffee, free donuts with the purchase of a medium drink til 11am, and crêpes on Saturdays.

And it all came with good conversation, a mutual realization that my donut and crêpe buddy and I clicked well together.  We were marveling at how much we had in common – including a deep, deep, deep love of Switchfoot – when she asked, “Have you ever taken a Myers-Briggs test?”

Well, that started the second incredible element of the day.  I took the test, found out I am a personality type that is in the small minority of the population (about 1%), and sat open-mouth and giddy as I read the description.

Have you ever felt totally, completely understood?  Like someone had searched your soul, heart, and mind – and your closet and bookshelves and purse and whatever – and come up with a description of who you are?

Well, it was a beautiful moment, to say the least.

Then Kathryn (the birthday girl) and I walked approximately a mile to have our first experience shopping at Aldi.  I didn’t know you had to pay to use shopping carts there, but thankfully Kathryn offered the use of her arms.  What we couldn’t get there, we got at Jewel-Osco, and then we walked home, feeling incredibly urban and independent.

It’s a gloomy day in Chicago, but it’s been pleasant.  There really isn’t a word that encompasses the feeling from today.  Combine new, happy, independent, sentimental, thoughtful, full – food wise, content, and sleepy and you’ve got it.  Maybe.