"the seven rules of the italian kitchen"

I just finished reading Bon Appetit’s fall issue, and couldn’t get out of my head this short half page article about the beauty of Italian cooking. Though it was obvious the piece was both an introduction and directional to the ways of Italian cooking, there was a very real editorial influence to the piece; almost a plea to the cook to, in spite of the reality of many of our economic situations, to not let that be a hindrance in our providing and sharing.

That being said, the author also came up with “7 Rules” that we should abide by. Because I guess we all have a little Italian in us?

Pay Attention: Notice what foods in our area are seasonal, local. “In Italy, the kind of cooking that chooses the local over the exotic is faithful to the seasons and wastes nothing.”

Love the Leftovers: (obviously, I am my father’s daughter): “Just about anything can live happily in a frittata.”

Keep It Simple: “Let the ingredients speak for themselves.” Don’t overcomplicate cooking.

Taste and Savor: I think my family did an incredible job of doing this the meals I actually sat for more than 15 minutes when I was growing up. I see that importance now, when my mom sets up our tables in the back yard with candles and piles the dishes on this huge farm table, that we sit, catch up, and enjoy that time over a meal that is removed from our crazy lives.

Cook Creatively: “There is comfort in working with the most humble ingredients, and pleasure in being resourceful in whatever is at hand.” How much do we love those nights when a meal turns out great and we aren’t able to remember exact measurements of things?

Grow Something: Regardless of if we have land or not, we all know that produce, meat, etc. just tastes better when you know who and where it came from…

Practice Generosity: (loved this) “Now, more than ever, we need to eat together. Whatever there is to eat, it’s enough to go around. We come together at the table not because of what we do have, but despite of what we don’t.”

The article finished with these brilliant lines:

“So let’s just pretend we’re Italian. I say this in all seriousness: Why not use these trying times as an opportunity – or an invitation – to do something we have to do anyway (namely, eat) with all the grace, simplicity, enthusiasm, and generosity of spirit we can muster?” – Lori De Mori Bon Appetit

The Humility of the Grafted and the Pruned: In Reference to Trojans, Sales, and Faith.

“The only reason you’re on the tree is because your graft “took” when you believed, and because you’re connected to that belief nurturing root…Be humbly mindful of the root that keeps you lithe and green.”

-       Paul, from Romans 11:19ish.

I hope I don’t make any theological missteps in this, but this comes from a Paul who is addressing the grafts (Gentiles), and referencing the pruned ones (Jews). Jesus is the life and love-giving root, completely holy. Those who turned their backs on the kingdom were deemed useless and pruned, while new branches were introduced to the root, and grafted in.

After reading and thinking about what Paul is getting at (which is way more than I’ve attempted to summarize), I thought about how my own coming to terms with pruning and grafting.

Pruning lesson #1: USC loses to University of Washington

(If you know me, you know why this hurts. It was a game we shouldn’t have lost, but the cards were ultimately in favor of the Dawgs. )

There’s nothing more heartbreaking than a loss like this, especially when it comes from such an underdog.  It shouldn’t be heartbreaking because it is a rarity that a team finishes the season undefeated. However, if you know recent USC football, you will also know that for this team, going undefeated isn’t a rarity, and how easy it is to get caught up in the “Win Forever” mindset.

It hurts when you’re riding high, confident, and your world comes crashing in the form of a team who is coming from the bottom up, and I was reminded that there is no such thing as entitlement to victory.

“And don’t get to feeling superior to those pruned branches down on the ground. If they don’t persist in remaining deadwood, they would very well get grafted back in.” – Rom. 11.23

Pruning lesson #2: Sales

I never studied sales in school, but I came in with the notion that, much like everything else I do, did, will do, that any form of a result is the effect of any form of work, whether it’s good, bad, lazy, tiresome. In the sales world, I’ve come to find that just because it looks like a success, doesn’t mean it is.

What I mean by that is that I get cocky. I’m excited to tell people that I booked a great event, which means I sold a lot of revenue. My colleagues will tell me how excited they are, great job, etc. Does it blow my ego up? Absolutely. And there’s nothing worse than when I have to send a mass email out saying that the client cancelled, or pushed back their event, or for whatever reason, didn’t book.  Even if it wasn’t my fault, I lost that revenue that I was so excitedly talking about just a day before. It’s like celebrating a victory before the clock runs out, you should never do it.

“But if you…being a wild olive, were grafted in among them and became partaker with them of the rich root of the olive tree, do not be arrogant toward the branches; but if you are arrogant, remember that it is not you who supports the root, but the root supports you.” – Rom. 11:17

Ultimately, Paul reminds me to live as a redeemed person. I didn’t deserve this, and I should be continually blown away by the miracle of the graft.

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life- your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life- and place it before God as and offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for Him.”

- Paul, Romans 12:1

on running.

I’ll never forget this Pearl Izumi ad campaign. I loved it because it was all about runners versus joggers, and how the two are intrinsically different.  The ads were simple, black background with white type, making bold proclamations like, “Runners sometimes jog, but joggers never run.” Or  “If you’re note sure if you’re a runner or a jogger, go faster.”

“Our ancestors never jogged down a meal.”

“Real runners don’t to escape the fact that they are running.”

This campaign was brilliant because it did what ads are supposed to do – make you feel like you belong somewhere because you have the thing they are advertising. 

I love running. It is my escape. Some people enjoy running because they can process thoughts, think about life. I enjoy running because , quite frankly, I don’t think about anything. I’ll never forget my junior year of high school when I found out my ex-boyfriend started to publicly pursue my friend. I saw it on AIM or something, and before you knew it, I was out the door, sprinting as hard as I could. I event remember what I wore – red soccer shorts and a white t-shirt. I remember just going, going, and then realizing when rationale had set in, that if I was going one way, I had to run back the other way to get home.

I don’t run before work often enough, but when I do, I love it. Especially in Santa Monica. Yesterday morning, I ran. The air had a chill to it, and I shivered as I took my first few steps, pressing the start button on my watch out of habit. I have a loop, and it’s pretty much the only route I run in Santa Monica.  I know if I’m running slow or fast based on which apartment buildings I pass at certain times, if I make it between blocks within the same street light sequence.

Yesterday morning, I was two blocks from home, and decided to walk. Now, I should preface this minor detail with the fact that I don’t like to walk. I have short legs, and a complex that says, “someone driving by you is going to see you walking and think that you’re a walker, not a runner.”

However, yesterday morning, I decided to walk home because in those first few slower steps, I felt the weather outside, I was awakened to what was going on around me, and was able to think and pray. I guess I always assume that because running is my physical release, it’s also my mental and emotional release. The way the thoughts came flowing , the way my soul and spirit felt alive and invigorated, was because I took the time to walk, to pay attention, to just invite those senses to be awakened.

Clearly, story of my life. Running and walking. Life-running to me is a Blackberrry wielding, weekly schedule maker, “I only have these nights to hang out” sayer. It gets me from point A to point B quicker, but I think I miss some things along the way. Life-walking to me is the unplanned, spur of the moment, the “let’s hang out because we both find ourselves with time to” kind of self. I love it, and it refreshes my soul, and I don’t walk often enough.

love[ers] in japan.

I recently was forwarded an email from my new friend, Joel. (We’ve met once and hung out, so in my world, that means friends.) He is on a short-term mission trip to Okinawa, and shared some of the things he and his team are doing, and I was really touched by one activity in particular.

“…Instead of a political or business agenda, the signs have encouraging phrases or words on them such as "You are beautiful" "We love you" "You are amazing."  In Hawaii, we usually just stand at corners and wave/shaka/smile/shout at people.  This time, we did all this but we MARCHED!  So if you can imagine over 50 people with signs walking around downtown Naha waving/shouting/smiling/blessing people that pass by whether, they are just walking, hanging out, or in their cars…”

This then led me to another thought I had just read about in my friend Natalie’s blog:

Loved people love people.

Isn’t that the truth? One of the most over-arching themes of the gospel, boiled down into one single point? 

Think about all the things love is: patient, kind, humble, not jealous, believing, hoping, sustaining.

We can not do things with out love. By the same token, if we have received the most epic love of all, we are able to love in the most epic of ways. The world would never be the same if everyone moved and lived and breathed to this realization.

What a gift. 

(take that, los angeles).

Endless Summer (Breakfast): In Search of the Croissant Parfait

I didn’t know that parfait meant 'perfect' in French until my friend said it the other night. Who knew that when you said, “I’d like a fruit and yogurt parfait” at Starbucks, that you were really saying, “I’d like a fruit and yogurt perfection, please”?

Foreign languages are sweet. Finding the perfect croissant, event sweeter.

Honestly, there is nothing quite like a coffee and croissant on a weekday morning. It is the perfect marriage of business and pleasure – business meaning I am dressed in my work clothes, pleasure meaning I am eating.

I don’t know why I like croissants that much. But they do hold a special place in my heart, somewhere in between my grandpa, the beach, and old home videos.

I digress.

Amandine Patisserie. The first time I had see this greenery covered bakery, I quickly entered into my Blackberry notes and promised myself that one morning, I would go.

A turquoise door welcomes you into a space luminated by the morning Santa Monica sun.

The place is cheerful, and mounds of pastries greet the senses as you step into a place that feels all too much like Europe.

A chalkboard appears lively with all that is written on it – things like Tarte Citron, Omelette Lorriane, Fresh Vegetable Pain de Mie, and of course, their freshly baked breads and pastries.

The first time I bit into their butter croissant, my eyes lit up, and a smile swept upon my face. It’s that good. Each bite seems to be autographed with care and artful consideration of the consummate pastry experience. Flaky and smooth on the outside, the inside is carefully woven in butter and air to create something that is truly spectacular.

I love Amandine’s concept:
“Our concept is to bring freshly unique, quality food to your everyday life.

We like to think of it as being that special part of your day, where you can break away from

the hustle and bustle of life

to find a moment of leisure and a savory indulgence that

satisfies your craving.”

Maybe that’s why I love this place so much. Maybe why I love bakeries in the morning. It allows me to take some time to myself or with a friend to fill my heart with things other than the day ahead. Maybe cause for the 30 minutes that I could be sitting in traffic, I choose to enjoy a slow start.

Before the business of the day sets in, I find quiet times to be as valuable as a quarter in the seat when you need money for parking. They’re good for the soul – to be still and soak in the day that is to come.

Couple it with a croissant and a cappuccino with extra foam, and there is no reason a day should ever be bad.

i-love-my-life kind of moments.

We’ve all had them. That powerful surge of the realization that yes, you’re life at that moment, is awesome.

They’re just really special, mind-blowing moments, only ones that your heart can fathom.

Nothing is better than a soul satisfied.

I was reminded the other day that there is a significant difference between joy and happiness. I think happiness can be crafted by circumstance. True joy rests in the fact that we just simply can’t make this moment up. It’s too good, too precious.

I think we’ll find that the i-love-my-life kind of moments do not come from purchasing anything, or maybe relate to anything material for that matter.

They’re the times where you have company over for dinner and realize that you love every single person in the room.

The times where you decide to curl up and read a book because you want to.

Most recently spotted i-love-my-life-moments include, but are not limited to: mornings that consist of breakfasting, farmers’ marketing, and beaching; really well done sunsets; realizing that the people in your life are incredible; running in i-can't-help-but-be-outside weather.

Raw and uncrafted, rare and treasured, the beauty of these moments is a sheer matter of gratitude and appreciation.

Found anywhere, by anyone, in anything.

[insert your own moment here]

so live your life.

I had a visit with one of my dearest friends on Saturday. The whole day was wonderful, but my favorite part was sipping on Whittard’s Dreamtime tea while sitting on her balcony and downloading life.

Life downloads with sweet friends are so good for the soul. I always am blown away by the things my friends are doing, how the Lord is shaping their life.

The thing I remember talking about most is the ever so applicable word to people I believe in the age category of 22 - 101: transition.

Our conversation spurred on a question: Where is the balance between living the life we’re living and going to do the things we’ve always dreamed of? Can the two ideas be married ever, or are we torn by the wide spectrum?

People say to post graduates “Oh, you’re in the transition stage of life.” That’s like brushing off a teenager and chalking it up to adolescence, waiting till they come out on the other side.

Follow me: Transit = (for example) the Metro.

Lots of stops.

Lots of opportunities to get off and step onto ground.

I suppose the great beauty and the great difficulty of transition is knowing when to park and when to keep going. I don’t want to ever take for granted or wish away today.

I love today, today is so exciting.

But I also think it’s ok to gut check ourselves and make sure that today is en route to our greater life dreams.

This is the day the Lord has made,

I will rejoice and be glad in it (and thank him for giving us lives to live and dream and go and discover and do and become.)

the thing about.

the thing about blogging is that it comes with the idea that whatever you write has to be relevant.

cool, or people won't read it.

meaningful, or people won't like it.

all i'm saying is, (albeit short and non-topical) there is something to be said about:

kiva.org

twitter and what it is doing in the tehran protests.

game nights.

finding time to read a book or journal.

sleeping in.

post-dinner strolls.

oswald chambers.

fin.

frames.

Living life frame by frame. 

To maximum exposure. 

I think there’s some sort of balance to be achieved between seeing the grandiose, overarching theme of what I deem to be my life’s purpose, and what happens in the short span of 24 hours. There’s got to be, because at this point, I haven’t achieved success in fully committing to one idea or the other.

I wake up, read something in the Bible that strikes me as ‘yes, this is my jam for the day’, and by the end of the day, the thought has managed to seep into my overall modus operandi for life. How does that happen? I thought tonight, do I waste days planning for the next?

I would love to wake up every single morning, and think, “Yes! I have one more day to love, and receive love!”

One more day to just be blown away by the earth, creation, air, breath, life.

One more day to connect with another human being.

One more day to breathe in air, mercy, and grace.

24 hours, captured in a frame. I would love to be fully known in one frame. To be fully understood of what I am made of.

planning and worrying, you can subside. 

being and doing, you can ensue.

things that last.

This past weekend, my sister got married.

It was incredible, an affair that brought so many things full circle through God's faithfulness, grace and love.

One thing that I was starkly reminded of this weekend was the marvelousness and beauty of girlfriends. I got to stand by my sister on the day of her wedding, with 6 other women who have also walked with Megan and were willing to come from near and far to stand by her and affirm her commitment.

I see this vision of my dearest friends, the ones who journey together, as holding hands in front of a rolling sea.

our faces to the waves, hands clasped

 ready to take on the life that ebbs and flows.

feet planted firm.

There is something sacred about the link of a girlfriend. There are countless times that I have met the friends of my friends and given them hugs in lieu of handshakes because I know that if they are friends of my friends, they must be friends of mine. The link becomes a chain all too easily.

And it's beautiful. 

break the world indifferent.

"What shines forth and reveals God in your life is not your relative consistency to an idea of what a saint should be, but your genuine, living relationship with Jesus Christ, and your unrestrained devotion to Him, whether you are well or sick."

-O. Chambers

This is love to break the world indifferent.

alive: to enjoy a morning out.

It was love at first sight. I’ve driven by Huckleberry many times before, but never thought I had the time to stop in, wherever I was headed to. I drove by again the other night, and decided I would take my friend, Natalie, out for a surprise breakfast date. (because let’s be honest, who doesn’t love breakfast, dates, or any combo of?)

You know a place is really good when you arrive 5 minutes before opening and there are other people waiting for the doors to open. You walk in and are greeted by an airy space that is equal parts modern, familiar and fresh.

It makes you want to take a deep breath.

Chalkboards line the tops of the walls, inviting your eyes to take in all that Huckleberry has to offer, things like home made english muffins, pan au chocolat with vahlrona chocolate, and Niman Ranch maple-bacon biscuits.

I had done my research before I went in, and had heard stories that were legend about their green eggs and ham (a house made english muffin, topped with a sunny side up egg, La Quercia proscuitto, and a mix of arugula, spinach, and a light pesto.)

The place doesn't need music, the food does the singing.

The only way this breakfast would have been better is if I didn't have to work after, if there was a weekend edition of the newspaper involved, and I had either my running clothes or a dress with pockets on.

bright yellow sweater.

free parking.

open doors.

breeze.

white peach tea, complete with orange tea pot.

fresh roses in painted clay vases.

delicious breakfast.

blessed conversation.

beautiful friendship.

 Maybe it wasn’t the food. Maybe it wasn’t the fact that this place was so overly darling that I couldn’t help but squeal with delight, but rather the fact that at 8:30 a.m. this morning, my soul was refreshed and revitalized.

b & l loves: the politics of the plate.

I can't stop thinking about this article. 

I receive Gourmet Magazine every month. I'm not a skilled enough cook to make most of what is so beautifully laid out in the magazine, but I have a thing for food writers. I also have a thing for justice, so it works out great that the have a section called, "Politics of the Plate".

The article is called, The Price of Tomatoes. It speaks of a town in South Florida, less than an hour away from Naples, called Immokalee. Immokalee is home to one of the largest communities of farm workers who, together with a few other local communities supply and harvest as much as 90% of our country's domestic tomatoes from December to May. 

According to Gourmet, it's also ground zero for modern slavery. Modern slavery, "just outside of our country's 2nd wealthiest metropolitan area".

Latinos make up 70% of Immokalee's population, where the per capita income is a mere $8,500.00. Most of the pickers, undocumented and carless, have no choice but to live in dilapidated conditions. These guys work at a break neck pace for maybe $50.00 a day. But factor in weather, your own health, transportation, etc, and a lot can go wrong. Egregious rates for monthly rent and everyday tasks such as taking a shower ($5 for a cold hose) coupled with random, unstable, and often seeded through paychecks not only worsen debt, but essentially prevent the pickers from ever getting out of the cycle.

You must read the article. My words don't do it justice. 

Douglas Molloy, chief assistant U.S. attorney said, "It's not an assumption. It's a fact", when asked if it was reasonable to assume that an American who has eaten a fresh tomato from the grocery story during the winter has eaten fruit picked by the hand of a slave. 

The good thing about problems like this is there is a solution. 

The consumer can come alongside the slave.

According to the article, so far, the only chain that has signed on to the Coalition of Immokalee Workers Campaign for Fair Food is Whole Foods. This campaign means a commitment to not deal with growers who tolerate abuse, and agree to pay a price that supports a living wage. 

There's certain things I'm willing to pay the extra expense for. I don't claim to be a devout organic epicure, because I'm not. But I do know that I'm willing to think twice about where my food is coming from, if it is building up or tearing down. 

These days, it's all about the triple bottom dollar: the bottom line (a given), but also community and sustainability. All of a sudden, we find ourselves in a place where we need to start thinking about the way we consume things, and its affect on our world: the people and their environment. 

Besides, tomatoes can wait for the summer. Make mine heirloom, sprinkled with sea salt, and lightly drizzled with balsamic and olive oil.

this love is like a drop in the ocean.

I love it when you hear a song and there's a particular phrase you just can't shake. It's just that good. 

Bono, you're real good. 

Throughout a large portion of this year, the first year of adulthood (because when you're 21 it means nothing until you find yourself going through ValPaks looking for coupons on car washes, or making sure all the lights are actually turned off before you leave the house), I have found my heart repeating the sentence, "My God is mightier than circumstance." This love, his love, his love for me, is like a drop in the ocean, translating life and energy to places I couldn't have even fathomed.

My God is larger and mightier than circumstance.

So, I see myself as the drop. I bring all of what I think to be all of me. I have a border, a boundary, clearly defined space. My drop is today, April 28th, 23 years old. But when I fall into the unfathomable measures of God's ways and plans, I become surrounded by something outside of myself. Something bigger, and greater, and wider, and longer, and it's awesome.

What if we all were willing to be submersed in an ocean of God's plans and promises?

take this soul, and make it sing. 

enjoy.

In my second life, I would really love to bake things for a living. Maybe it will happen in my first life, but until then, I crave in moderation: all things baked goods.

On my way home from a fabulous weekend away, my boyfriend and I stopped by one of my favorite places, Los Olivos. I feel like all Anthropologie photo shoots of girls in pretty dresses were probably shot here. (If you’re a female reading this, you already know what Los Olivos looks like).

It’s wine country meets rolling hills with oak tree overpasses meets small town that has about as many tasting rooms as it does cars, and you get the drift. On one corner there’s the ten year old with a petition, trying to save his sheep, on another corner there’s Coquelicot, an incredible tasting room that boasts of a bocce ball court and really great sustainable wine. 

And on another corner (there’s a lot of corners) is the Saarloos & Sons Tasting “House”, home to Enjoy Cupcakes.

I don’t think I’ll make my mark on baking society before the cupcake bubble bursts, but this one-display-case-bakery boasts of flavors like Chocolate Blackberry Syrah, Tart Ginger Lime Chardonnay, and Aloha Cheesecake (which, according to the website, is “Alan’s Favorite”).

The best thing about Enjoy Cupcakes beside the product is the vehicle in which the product travels in: a restored vintage “Shasta” trailer. As if I wasn’t already in love with this trailer, put some white twinkling lights and roll out the awning, and you could have a party in just about –no make that literally anywhere and it 

would be darling.

i would like you at my next party little trailer. 

Another great element to Enjoy (witty, I know) is that they are willing to incorporate just about any design element to custom create a cupcake – whether it be a flower, color, flavor, or drink.

Dear Enjoy Cupcakes,
I really like chocolate, peonies and summer berries. I’ll be by soon to pick up my cupcake.

Fondly,
Erin.