French lentil salad and several lifetimes away

I have a feeling that I can only compare to running into someone I really liked once. Something akin to "I'm sorry I never wrote back but...life, you know. You look good. Really good."

Except, I guess I knew you'd be here. It's not exactly an accident. I just needed to be in this place again, almost two years later. I'm not going to promise to keep up this time. I don't know how to fill in all of the space between us and I wouldn't know where to begin anyway. No one's ever accused me of being succinct or a particularly good summarizer. 

The campaign ended. That year was heartbreaking and fulfilling in ways I should have expected but didn't. It was hard to justify an appetite for something light after something heavy. You don't need my explanations, I don't know why I'm bothering. I want you to know that I still think about this a lot. That even if the way I work is mostly relegated to shorter bursts in other places, it started here. And I just missed it today. 

I'm about a month from 31. Peony season and all that. I bought a place. I finished up the kitchen last week and it's gorgeous. There's a whole wall of books and records. You'd love it. Of course I have some pictures. My life in politics was short-lived and I'm back at an agency. I'm not saving the world every day but I travel a lot and I work with a few like minds. 

It also gives me flexibility, which is good because my mom has cancer. That's been the last seven months. It's tough stuff but we're close and I feel like I've gotten a chance to be the daughter I always wanted to be. As though my place in our family never really crystallized until shit hit the fan. She's been a wonder to watch and her last chemo session is scheduled for the aforementioned 31st birthday. 

So that brings us to this and I wouldn't have kept you here if I wasn't planning to feed you. What are we having? Why, the same thing I've had for lunch for the last four days: French Lentil Salad. I'm not a creature of habit, so that repetition should tell you something. Most of the components for the salad are laid out above, pre-toss. The cookies/various jars are in the photo above because I was making a point about mornings. I remember the start of "the morning person project." I guess it worked.

Note: I added meat to this because it was headed to a carnivorous household. Take out the sausage and it's not only vegetarian, it's vegan and gluten-free. You can have it all. I based the bones of this recipe on the one over at In Pursuit of More but changed the dressing and added a few things.

French Lentil Salad with Dijon Vinaigrette
8 servings (lasts for days in the fridge)
Salad:
1 cup French green lentils (any lentil will do, I just like these)
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cubed
1 large red onion, peeled and chopped
2 medium golden beets, ends removed
2 1/2 TB olive oil
1 lb Brussels sprouts, stem end trimmed, then shredded into ribbons
3 apricots, sliced thin off the pit
4 dates, pit removed and sliced to a similar thickness as the apricots
5-6 basil leaves, sliced into ribbons (chiffonade)
Optional: 1 package Spencer's herbed pork bangers

Dressing:
3 TB Dijon mustard
Juice of one large lemon
3/4 cup olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1.) Soak your lentils according to package directions. Shoot for at least three hours and, lest you be intimidated, this is literally pouring a cup of lentils into 2 1/2 cups of water and walking away. Do it before bed, do it first thing in the morning, it's easy.

2.) Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil, then toss your sweet potato and red onion with 2TB of olive oil until it's evenly distributed and everything's a little shiny, then season lightly with salt and pepper.

3.) Separately, tear off another piece of foil and add your beets. Gather the sides, then drizzle the last 1/2 TB of olive oil over the top and pinch the ends up very tightly...you don't want any hot oil to be able to escape.

4.) Put both the tray of onion and the beets in the 400 degree oven for 30-40 minutes, stirring the pan vegetables at the 15 minute mark. Now would also be a good time to drain your lentils, refill the pot with another 2 1/2 cups of water and bring it to a boil once there, lower it to a simmer and cook for 20-25 minutes or until the lentils are just tender. Drain them and add a splash or two of the vinaigrette so the lentils soak up some of the acidity.

5.) Once the vegetables are done, pull them out to cool, including venting the foil packet for the beets. They'll be hot, but use a paper towel to rub the skins off, then set them aside on your cutting board.

6.) If you're using sausage, this would be the time to fry them up. Get them evenly browned then cut them into small rounds when you're done.

7.) Time to add it all together, then toss with the dressing. It's great fresh, when some of the pieces are still warm, but it's wonderful after it's been marinating for a couple days, too. I think this would also make a great side dish for a lunch or party. Tis the season.

It was so good to see you. Let's not do the thing where we each say we should do it again soon, but no one calls. I'll just trust that it will happen again because it's important. And just in case it takes awhile, let me tell you about a few latest favorite things, a couple represented in the photo above.

Weck jars: Yes, they're cute. But they're also non-toxic, easy to store, cost effective, versatile, and people tend to give them back to me when I gift edibles. Sometimes they're even re-filled with something delicious.

Fleur: My neighbor this past year and a good one. A monthly stroll into that shop all but saved my mental health over the course of a brutal Chicago winter. A shop filled with fresh flowers, great paper products, and brass animals. What could be better?

Malazan Book of the Fallen: A beast of a fantasy series but beautifully written. Ten books. Hundreds of characters. I started reading it with a friend about two weeks before we knew about the cancer and escapism is a real and wonderful thing. Highly recommended for George RR Martin and Patrick Rothfuss fans.

Sportsman's: Shares a name with one of my favorite bars in college but what they lack in fried pickles, they more than make up for in Amaro. Checkerboards for tables, strong drinks, and great company on both sides of the bar. 

Hedley & Bennett apron: Discovered at Sportsman's on one of the bartenders and I just had to have one. I was especially smug when I saw a pile of my favorite chefs wearing them this week. It's sturdy but lightweight and there are plenty of pockets. It's also gender neutral enough that I can offer it to someone else in the kitchen every once and awhile.

Humboldt House: Claire's outfitted basically my entire condo in gorgeous vintage rugs. I'm not the only one that appreciates them. She shares my love for teak and Scandinavian ceramics and hot damn do I love that shop.

Cellar Door Provisions: A tremendous new addition to Logan Square and a place I sneak off for breakfast or lunch whenever the opportunity arises. I love everything and I never leave without a loaf of their house bread, which I've taken to gifting.

Aesop's Breathless oil: When we hugged earlier, this is what I smelled like. Found it in Venice over the winter and haven't looked back.

La Boda Bañuelos

I’ll admit that I knew in December that this corner of my previous life would collect a bit of dust this year. And I won’t attempt to catch you up on the ten months since. That’s a project for November 8^th and beyond (subtitled “An Instagram Story”). In short, it’s been the single hardest and best thing I’ve ever done. The people are deeply affectionate, determined, and challenging in equal, tidal portions. And we have an election to win in 36 days--my lucky number, as it happens. With that kind of countdown comes the knowledge that there are still miles to go until we sleep. If you’re looking to help, I built this: http://OFA.BO/TKTC

What brings me back here is a wedding. I’m tempted to call it a piece of my past life but as important as this campaign is and as much as everyone on it has to be ready to sacrifice on a personal level…some things are going to rise above the all-encompassing nature of life on a very serious deadline.  

The ultimate example, in my case, being the marriage of my best person, Miss Molly McGuffin Wynn, or, as of this publishing, Mrs. Molly Wynn Banuelos. It’s a long (and blessedly direct) flight back to Chicago from Guadalajara and in-air wifi has yet to come to Volaris. In the company of clouds, it’s easy to spot silver linings and this post is it.

Below is the speech I (more or less or wine) gave at Saturday night’s reception, along with a few selects from a beautiful weekend about 90 minutes deep into the mountains outside of GDL. A note that half the fun of the weekend was being surrounded by a beautiful set of co-conspirators.

It’s also an excuse to tell the best real life love story I know. Maybe that’s cheesy enough to choke on but I’m a sap and it just couldn’t have happened to two better people.

Special thanks to Abby and Paco for helping me to sound like I even remotely speak Spanish. 

Buenas noches. Por favor disculpen mi español. Lo que digo en este momento es lo único que se decir. Me llamo Jessi y vivo en Chicago. Molly y yo crecimos juntas. Estoy segura que vamos a seguir creciendo juntas durante los años que vienen. Asi es nuestra amistad. Quiero decir que estoy tan contenta de estar aquí. Y, a la familia Bañuelos, quiero decir gracias. Gracias por criar a este hombre, que hace tan buen pareja con mi mejor amiga. Me gustó inmediatamente--y a Molly tambien.

This seems like the appropriate time to switch back to a language I'm a little more familiar with. Molly is the linguist of the two of us and she's not in any position to be cleaning up after me this time. I'm Jessi. Molly and I grew up together. I expect that we will be growing up together for the rest of our lives. Having thanked the Banuelos family in Spanish, I turn to the Wynns who have been a second family to me for legitimately half my life.

Molly is the best person I know and I don't think you'll find much argument from my table on that point. She is slow to anger, incredibly kind, and generous of spirit/in spirit/with spirits. She is a person who for my entire young adult life has been the one I have pushed my luck with. The one encouraging me to "lean into it." She is to your credit.

I've been promising to tell the story of how Molly and Jaime met for a couple years now. It's been apparent for a while that this opportunity would arise so I've been excited to tell one of the best stories I know. My best friend met the love of her life while sitting on the front steps of a flower shop in the midst of a witching hour. "Witching hour" in this case can be defined as "the hour at which Molly and I have had two bottles of wine and are now cackling at each other's likely not very funny jokes. Say 12-ish on a December night in Chicago. To summarize, a witching hour not unlike the one we’re facing now, under very different circumstances.

Molly was in Chicago visiting from Minneapolis and the two of us had taken ourselves out for dinner at a French place, bien sur, and treated ourselves accordingly. We were establishing our next moves for the evening when, down State Street, came a pair of objectively handsome gentlemen, rattling off conversation in a romance language of undetermined origin. Judgments were made and suddenly your two adventuresses relayed a shout of "Viva Italia!" in a manner better suited for a soccer field.

 And they stopped. Because who wouldn't be curious at that point? And because the Universe is a strange and wonderful place, we adopted each other. Molly and I, Jaime and Armando. It only much later occurred to us that the Italians are unlikely to have sons named “Hai-may.” Or would think to summon me as “Yessi.“

We ran around Chicago with poor Sheridan, the Spanish teacher, who was likely suspicious all along. And it should have ended there. A funny run-in with a pair of tall, dark, and handsomes. Another city story to add to the collection. 

But it didn't end there.

Two continents, two years, and a surprisingly small amount of emails later, Molly had moved to Chicago after all. And I take a lot of credit for that. I found her an apartment, promised her meals and adventures great and small. But there was more to her city selection and I guess I knew that, even then. By not a small miracle, they had seen the goodness in each other immediately. She was here for all of a month before they found each other again and that was that. 

Since then, Jaime has been the guy who made enough Palomas for all of us. The one who manned the grill when it was raining, who could talk to anyone at the party, and whispered sweet nothings to the gato to get her out from under the bed. He is the kind of person who understands the importance of perfect pancakes, danced the night away with my mom at our friend's wedding, and he's the kind of man who took a bro OUT on the soccer field when he got too rough with Molly. Safe to say she’d do the same for him. 

I was lucky to be there the night you met. Even in the wine haze, the next day you were different. You had seen something. You knew something. And now here we are, five years later, and we're in the mountains outside of Guadalajara. You've just married the not-quite-Italian man we met on the steps of a flower shop after two bottles of wine. I'm looking at you now, knowing you're about to lean into whatever comes your way as a pair. And it’s going to be absolutely incredible. I love you both. Felicitaciones y los mejores deseos para ambos en el día de su boda.

A Change Has Come and It Comes with Pie

Tomorrow I have the honor of doing something absurd- leaving a job I love while grinning to Cheshire proportions. Friday is my last day at Edelman after three and a half fantastic years.

All of this because Monday will be my first day on the digital team at Obama for America.

I’m joining the team to do whatever I can to ensure Barack Obama is reelected, as I believe him to be one of the single greatest agents for positive change my generation will know. I’m doing it because it absolutely qualifies as a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity to be part of something *big*, on behalf of something I so wholeheartedly believe in.

And because this is still a food blog and this is how we celebrate… I baked a pie. I will save you from any self-assigned deep metaphorical meaning and just tell you it’s an apple pie topped with half blueberries and half cranberries and it was delicious.

Baked goods aside (for now), I have every reason to believe this could be the single hardest thing I’ve ever taken on. I’m on the brink of being fully absorbed into a challenge so rich that it will swallow me whole for the next year by every account, including that of my new colleagues. And yet I can feel myself humming in anticipation, ready to dig in, understand, and be useful. There is a very real chance that everything I've done to date has led me straight to this whether I was aware of it or not.

For the last few years I have had the supreme good fortune of filling a role at Edelman that more often than not felt tailored to me like a glove, and definitely the kind with the nerdy tip points for texting. I've spent the last three years reading stories and meeting the women and men behind them. I've watched voices from the depths of the Internet become credible and recognized voices of “the people.” There are days when I even feel like I had a bit part in setting up the loudspeakers.

Not to mention the adventures. One after the other after the next and I came home breathless and chattering nonstop. I met her! We ate there! We had the best idea! From Portland to Asheville to Austin to San Diego and New York, New Jersey and New Orleans, I was buzzing. And I was pinching myself all the while for being the one that got to connect the dots. For getting to do it in such fine company.

I work with a bunch of nerds and it’s the highest compliment I can think to give in this context. People with the wanton ability to geek out over feed readers, measurement theories and platform coding but it goes beyond that.

I’m talking about food policy wonks, letterpress junkies, women in waders in search of a quiet spot with all the fish. People who run marathons with hip fractures because you cannot stop them from moving and try at your own peril. Star Wars junkies, chorus girls, music nuts, a fascinating breed of style curators and even a NASCAR fan. There may even have been a few fellow kitchen witches, Gryffindors, cat ladies and bourbon lovers. Just maybe. They are the kind of people who rave rave rave on about that thing you must try because it’s spectacular.

I can’t underline the importance of working with people who are passionate. Who are excited and eager and, above everything else, they are curious.

How does that work? Can I take it apart and will there be something simple and true at the center of it? Yes? Then let’s go there.

Yes. Let’s. I have a good feeling that I’m not done with the nerds. If anything, the stakes may have just been raised. Now that the secret is out, you know where to find me in 2012. There’s work to be done and if you feel like helping, I will gladly take you up on that.

Be advised, I'll be asking for your vote as well.

Red Pepper Almond Hummus and Keeping It Simple

As I'm thinking many of you probably did this past week, I am just on the other side of a really nice few days with the family. Mom and Dad flew into Chicago, now the residence of both their children, and we spent a relaxed few days taking in the sights, smells and (clearly...do you know us at all?) tastes of an unseasonably warm city.

This would be Brother giving us a tour of his most recent campus home.

As Dad rightly noted, we just don't see each other very much these days so to get a couple weeks in one month's time feels like a luxury.

The other luxury is getting to play the tourist. I've lived in Chicago for going on seven years and I hadn't been to the Field Museum in that time. That is a tragedy and something we spent four full hours rectifying on Thanksgiving morning. We were first in line and got what felt like a private tour of the birds of North America, geologic treasures, the special Whales exhibit and the like. That's the kind of prioritizing you can expect from holiday Langsens.

It was decided early in the planning stages that me making Thanksgiving dinner was going to be more fuss that it was maybe worth for 3-5 people. I'm still not entirely sure I agree but I know when to defer and I don't regret the dearth of dishes in my kitchen (the dearth of turkey leftovers is another story). And while we ate really (Longman & Eagle), really (Leopold) well throughout the city, I'm pleased as punch that my favorite latest snack was appreciated by the whole family throughout the weekend.

If I were to venture a guess at your thoughts, I might wonder what the big deal was. Hummus is generally four ingredients tops and it's just not terribly tricky. To that end, you would be completely correct. It's easy. But a couple quick tweaks to traditional hummus makes this stuff completely addictive, not to mention versatile, delicious and delightfully cost-effective as a holiday potlucker.

Red Pepper Almond Hummus

• 1/2 small jar of roasted red peppers (no juice)
• 1 15 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (Bush's is a client and a favorite...the two are not mutually exclusive)
• 1/4 cup whole raw almonds
• 2-3 TB olive oil
• 1 tsp Sriracha (more if you like the heat)
• 2-3 cloves of garlic
• Thick pinch of smoked salt and some freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Put all ingredients in a food processor then turn it on.

2. Throw a cracker in and adjust as needed by adding more of whatever you please to the food processor then whirring again.

3. That's it. You're done now.

Covered in the fridge , this will keep beautifully for a week. The likelihood of this lasting for a week is slim at best. If you're really looking to go the extra mile, might I recommend spreading the stuff on toast, layering slices from half of an avocado on top, drizzling a little extra Sriracha and topping it with a fried egg. Just in case you were looking for ideas.

Someone to Watch Over...My French Toast

There's not much out there that competes with the all-around goodness and simplicity of French Toast. I'm not even going to bother qualifying that with an "in my opinion." If you want to argue it as fact, I'll go to the mat for French Toast and I will do so with vigor.

That isn't to say that there aren't higher forms available. Like anything else, a French Toast variation can fall into a quick hierarchy based on the sum of its parts. Let's go ahead and name that most important quality. It's not the bread (though clearly challah is a superior choice). It isn't the presence of exceptionally fresh eggs (just the yolks, apparently). It's not the maple syrup or the amount of butter used to fry impossibly thick slices.

You are running out of patience for my chosen approach, I can tell. We can skip the part where I decry "it" not to be cinnamon or orange zest either.

It's the company. The person who passes the syrup across the table. The one watching the oven timer to ensure the bread has been dried out just enough to promote optimum batter absorption. My company for the affore-heralded French Toast? Unparalleled but wholly familiar to longtime readers. I managed a weekend in the woods outside Seattle earlier this month with Pop, a man of the hour every hour and one for the ages at every age. I think the shot above is a few years old but it best captures the two of us doing what we do best. Scallops in that instance, rather than French Toast.

We did a good amount of cooking, exploring, napping and general indulging (balanced by some elevation run-run-running on my part). A trip out to Denny Creek took us over the river.

And through the woods.

And back to grandfather's house we went...for additional exercising of hereditary feast talent.

I'm especially proud of this one. Yes I know, pride comes before the fall. But fall was already in high season when I got to Seattle and I am just fine with the hubris that comes with a beautifully stacked lox bagel. That is a work of art. Bless you, Blazing Bagels.

Other moments when we patted ourselves heartily on the back included the day we decided duck pâté, apple slices, crackers and pomegranate seeds counted as lunch.

And the night we decided to find out how sole would taste fried in truffle butter over leeks and chantrelles. In my defense, I did manage to get a lot of vegetables on the plate and we went with lemon sorbet for dessert.

But I think if I had to pick a dish to represent the weekend, that French Toast was it. I mean that was it. Top of the pile and that pile was covered in blueberries. I have to give thanks to Christopher Kimball because Pop had prerecorded the demo we modeled our own toast after on America's Test Kitchen (recipe linked). We added some orange zest and were lucky enough to find eggs at a roadside stand in Woodinville (assured they were exceptionally fresh).

I try to get out there a couple times a year. I love that part of the world but I'm in it for the company. One night after dinner we sat and listened to music for an hour and a half. When his favorite version of "Someone to Watch Over Me" came on, he belted it out with a lack of self awareness that comes with being 92.5 and not giving a damn for anything but things that give joy.

And yes, as the years have gone on there are other, shorter conversations that come up. It would be ridiculous for us to pretend that this will go on forever in kind. I think it's comforting to both of us that it's addressed in the form of him sending me home with paperweights and books and old photos. This time he pledged to be at my wedding "no matter what" and, should that come to pass, I suspect he might come disguised as a French 75 for a different kind of toast altogether. Pop is and will remain a bit of magic. It's not a secret, it's a treasure.

Comeback Kid- Revisiting the Morning Person Project

Just about two years ago, I embarked on a shift of sorts, known around these parts as "The Morning Person Project." The premise was pretty simple. Some of the most accomplished people I know are early risers and it seemed to be the best time to regularly get a workout in. I also, frankly, just needed more hours in the day.

In 2011, all of this is still true and even though I haven't mentioned it in awhile, I think I can tentatively say I'm actually enjoying it. There are a lot of things that seem to be a matter of "fits and starts" but mornings aren't one of them. If consistency can be a challenge for you as well, you know what these little victories feel like.

In addition to just generally being part of the world a little earlier and, ideally, bouncing some endorphins around, I've come to take great care in planning what was at one time my least favorite meal- Breakfast.

I've always done good thinking while cooking and it turns out this is no different in the earlier bit of day. It helps wake up the other side of my brain and it also sets the stage for some good moves later on. With that in mind, I've put my three latest favorites below. None of them, when prepped accordingly, is at all time consuming and they work best when rotated.

Pumpkin Pie Breakfast Parfait: Greek yogurt with two heaping tablespoons of pumpkin puree, topped with cinnamon and a scant handful of Scholars Inn Granola (thanks, Molls!). This is for the sweet tooth mornings and it genuinely tastes like getting dessert for breakfast for 230-250 calories*.

Avocado Toast: A piece of whole wheat toast with half a mashed avocado, hot sauce or salsa, seasoning and one of Bruce's eggs over easy. 300-320 calories*

Breakfast Beets: Pictured in this morning's golden incarnation at the top of this post and in a glorious deep purple above, this is my latest favorite. Maybe atypical as breakfast goes but it feels a little fancier without the extra work. Any fresh herb will do (tarragon and basil are my favorites), just roast your beets the night before (I do mine in foil), leave them out on a plate or refrigerate overnight and then rub the skins of easily in the AM. Chop, add cottage cheese, herbs, lemon juice (+zest if you're up for it) and a couple cracks of good black pepper. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil and tell me it's not genius. Thanks to my dear man, Jamie Oliver. (275-300 calories*)

*This is not about to become a calorie counting blog but I'd already counted them up and am usually at least curious so there you have it.

As for the rest of the morning, it goes a little like this:

• 5:15 Alarm goes off. I get one snooze if I need it (i.e. I am *this close* to unlocking the keys to time travel and need to finish the thought before that pigeon stops talki...zzzzz)
• 5:32 Okay, for real this time. Radio on, ice water poured and four mornings out of five I'm into the workout clothes I laid out on my way to bed. This is very important because I am not firing on all cylinders and something as simple as no clean sports bras could still be a deal breaker. I've made progress but I'm no saint.
• 5:54 Shoes on, teeth brushed, cat fed, face splashed. Jog to the gym. Or run if it's 5:57 already (it usually is).
• 5:59 Deep breath. It's cool and it is that very particular brand of early morning air that feels a bit private. The second freshest breath of the day.
• 6-7 Any assortment of sweaty things. So long as I can wring out my ponytail at the end, I'm in pretty good spirits and, no, I don't think that's gross.
• 7:05 Back to the house, kick on the coffee, finish that glass of water.
• 7:10-7:25 Stop sweating. Morning edition is on and I am now listening to the news, attacking my Reader and drawing a picture of what the day is going to look like.
• 7:30-8 Wash, dry, sparkle. You know the drill.
• 8-8:15 Breakfast with a crispy side of email.
• 8:20-8:35 Off to the races with a good chunk of day already behind me.

In the Name of Comfort and All Its Formats

This was supposed to be a post about plums and oatmeal. As you might have already guessed by that auspicious beginning, that's not an exact representation anymore. Now this is a post about comfort. About the ease of breath that happens when your molecules slow down.

Of course, food can do that to us...comfort food is a real thing. I'd be curious to know what does it for you but in my world it's banana bread in the oven, onions caramelizing on the stove, citrus being zested and cinnamon in anything. All four set me at immediate ease and I take my life in a little deeper with their cues.

I had a five star, five senses comfortable weekend. This is one of those posts that might be more for me to have a record of than it has much to offer anyone else but I needed to put it down just the same. From the weather to the company to the lack of company to the feasts, I don't know that it could have been improved upon.

Since I can't find a way to eloquently share the bones of it, I'm making myself an outline at the bottom of this post for the truly curious. The short of it is that it had a lot of my favorite people, many of whom I just don't see much of and in whose presence my molecules ease up. As one of those people who occasionally forgets to breathe, I am so very into this.

At the risk of getting spectacularly sappy, this guy is one of them. I took this at Salvage One this afternoon during our (straight up successful) treasure hunt through Grand's vintage corridor. I realized tonight that I hadn't said anything here in the official online outpost but Brother is an official resident of the Chicagoland area for the next two years and I am breathing in a different way just coming to terms with that.

It's not like we'll see that much of each other, we won't. I know that, I truly do. But I've been living a plane ride from my family for 10 years and while I miss them, it's just a fact to which I got accustomed. I typically see them three times per year. Four if I'm really lucky. And even with a lot of friends who live close enough to have Sunday dinner with their parents or take sisters for a birthday lunch, it just wasn't my reality.

And now one of my favorite people is here and I can feel a different sort of root take hold. If things get dark, or even just a little gray, I have family a 15 minute train away. Or forget gray, an extra ticket to the Nice Cream benefit at a local brewery. Or the same seatmate for a live NPR show who's been sitting next to you listening in the backseat for 25 years. That still seems so wholly remarkable.

So the weekend was a wonder. Filled with the friends who are family and the family who's a friend and enough quiet time to myself to be grateful for the whole shebang. It's a true comfort for someone who didn't realize she needed comforting. Sappy, overindulgent weekend post achieved. Sorry I'm not sorry. At least I saved you from a title trying to riff on the word aplomb, only about breakfast :)

Steel Cut Oatmeal with Fresh Plumbs

• 11/4 cup water
• 1/3 cup steel cut oats
• 2 Tablespoons bran meal
• 2 Tablespoons flax meal
• 1/2 teaspoon salt (I used the BLiS vanilla salt pictured above but only because it is the spice I am most likely to start dating at the moment)
• Pinch of cinnamon
• 1 Tablespoon of maple syrup (I used BLiS bourbon barrel aged maple syrup but only because it is the condiment I am most likely to start dating at the moment)
• 1 Tablespoon of half and half
• 4-5 small fresh plums cut in half and pitted

1. Boil your water.
2. Add oats, bran, flax and salt. Lower heat to a simmer and stir every couple minutes till desired consistency is reached. This is usually about 12-15 minutes for me.
3. Add your cinnamon then spoon oat mixture out into your favorite breakfast bowl du jour.
4. Sprinkle cinnamon over the top then drizzle maple syrup over the top.
5. Pile on those beautiful plums and trace the edge of the oatmeal with the half and half.
6. Take a deep breath with nose directly over the bowl and enjoy not being hungry until well into the lunching hour.

Weekend in Review

Friday: Portabella/Garlic Tempeh Burger take-out from Native Foods, ridiculously good new vegan place just up Milwaukee. Eaten with a glass of wine while watching Before Sunrise and Before Sunset which have now both made my top 25 movies. Celine's monologue from the car scene in Before Sunset just about killed me.

Saturday: Started with a sweatfest. So much so that it was physically difficult to ride a bike that day. Kind've a beautiful thing. From there, the annual scrub at Paradise which comes with velvety soft skin and the reminder to be brave. Then off to the Food Truck Social for ceviche and tan lines with ZP and Emili. Just enough to hold me for JB's alfresco birthday dinner at Due Lire with a whole host of fun folk. A few glasses of wine floated me to 5 Star to crash G's big date (by invitation, bien sur) and meet up with Suz. Who then scooted me in brave attire for two wheels to Rainbo where the night/morning finished up.

Sunday: Starts with the discovery of buttermilk on its last legs, leading to blueberry pancakes in great company. A little organization before heading to Floriole for a light lunch with Ellie followed by the movies. Picked up at the theater by Brother and off we went, trolling for a Mid Century Modern coffee table on a grad student budget. Post 27, Urban Remains, Salvage One...all the good stuff. We found exactly what we needed, fell in love with significantly more along the way and then headed north to Revolution Brewery and the Nice Cream Benefit. So many good things/people in one place. Brother dropped me off with my adoptive Chicago family for a glass of wine with the Dawsons & Co at Mana.

Balsamic Roasted Plums, a Burglary and a Birthday

Ah yes, one of those things is not like the other. I'll get there.

Above we have a scene from the kitchen during tonight's Monday meal prep. Karyn ran over from Old Town, showered and spent the rest of her birthday dinner in her birthday suit and a very stylish towel wrap. Gina came straight from training but skipped the shower. Joner was a frock-rocking basil-tearing machine and Bec wore one of my oversize buttondowns around, buttoned all the way up as mosquito/frosting protection.

I'd put the picture up but I think I need approval on that one first.

Menu:

• Zucchini fritters with yogurt and apricot jam
• Mixed greens with balsamic roasted plums and blue cheese*
• Pork scallopini (Divina Cucina style=fennel pollen!)
• Pappardelle with heirloom tomatoes and fresh pesto
• Chocolate Cake with Guiness poured over the top

I'm grateful for beautiful nights like this one. I snuck off to the downtown farm stand to grab beautiful plums at lunch was home in time to head to the butcher shop. I've made that chocolate cake so many times that I think I could do it blindfolded and the rest...while creating a breathtaking path of dishes and destruction...came together simply. We ate outside in the magic garden and I just needed that.

It's been an interesting seven days. My apartment was broken into, my laptop and iPods stolen and some peace of mind taken along with them. I am a tough cookie most of the time but knowing someone was in my home is jarring. Even though it could have been a whole lot worse (I wasn't there at the time), I still feel violated. And pissed, if we're being candid. Five separate friends offered HC and I a place to stay that night and all I could think of was straight, stubborn, crimson fury.

A planned work trip got me out of town for the weekend and it was truly awesome. I still wasn't feeling quite myself but Philadelphia with a bunch of professional optimists and an old school partner in crime were the best kinds of distractions.

Police reports filed, fingerprints collected and now we wait. It's not the first time I've been here but that doesn't make it easier. Some simple precautions like new windows, fresh locks do wonders but having a house full of people who love you and the smells that go along with that are the fastest ways to restore order to my world. Monday mission accomplished.

I lied about the picture. I'm sorry, friends. It was too perfect. I love you enough to delete it later if you want to raise a protest.

A chocolate beer cake cheers to houses that feel like home and to the people that fill them with light. Dinner was very much in Karyn's honor tonight but I'm definitely going to bed feeling gifted.

Balsamic Roasted Plums

6 small, ripe plums

2 tablespoons good balsamic vinegar

Smoked salt to taste

Rinse and dry your plums then cut them in half, removing the pit. Toss in balsamic in a glass baking dish and top with a pinch of smoked salt. Roast at 375 for 4-5 minutes. I don't even know that this counts as a recipe, it's that easy.

Serve over mixed greens with blue cheese and just pour your roasting juices from the plums over the salad as a dressing. It's a delight.

Down on the Farm

It's midweek at this point but I'm still glowing from a proper Midwestern summer weekend. It kicked off with wine on my neighbor's deck, an overly wondrous nap and a birthday for one of my Mondays. If you can believe it, things just continued to climb from there.

Look at those beautiful, beautiful berries- it was another sweet year for the Jerseys at Joe's. The day was supposed to be nasty but we were running out of time to get our fruit so Molly and I drove out to Bangor anyway, fully prepared for rain and mud.

80, overcast and smelling of rain- perfect for picking. It didn't hurt that we arrived to some familiar faces on the wall.

Or that the sun came out as soon as our buckets were good and full. The light came in through the weave in my hat, leaving me with superfreckles I got quite attached to.

There was sour cherry beer to try and even a proper Blueberry jam session happening in the farmhouse. The boy with the marracas was my favorite.
I just love being on that farm. It's full of vintage farm equipment, wood-sided Wagoneers, cold beers and a collage of the state of Illinois I'd like to have run off with.

We couldn't believe our luck so we pushed it and drove 15 more minutes to South Haven.

I was pretty well coated in mud from getting all up in those blueberry bushes so it was in the water almost immediately then down for the count.

Five o'clock rolled around and we decided on a late lunch/early dinner in town. One Oberon, please. I think they brew this stuff specifically to be drunk on old wood decks overlooking Lake Michigan. This was the only one though and we drove home shortly thereafter. Unreal how close a vacation of that nature actually is- we were home by seven.

The next morning had its own fun. Bruce emailed to say he had a plethora of eggs from his chickadees and I think I waited all of 2 minutes to volunteer my house for consumption. I literally pulled an egg out from underneath a chicken in one of the laying boxes. This whole urban farm thing? I am a fan.

And then even though we had brunch plans with Kelly at Delish, I cooked it. I couldn't help it. I have a whole new meaning for 10 minute eggs. Hope your summers are churning out equally wonderful weekends.