My Parents' Pumpkin Pie

It's October! Orange October, to be precise. The Giants won the World Series last night (for the second time in three years!), and as a Bay Arean I'm pretty ecstatic. Maybe not as ecstatic as the crazies currently lighting bonfires in the streets of San Francisco, but really, who knows if they even watched the game. Observe Sergio Romo and Buster Posey celebrating after orchestrating the winning pitch.

More importantly, October brings around my sweetie's birthday, my dad's birthday, my third grandmother's birthday (she's honorary), and Halloween. I'm going to be a pirate this year and my costume is delightfully slutty. What's Halloween for, anyway? (Note: I know what it's for. Let me have this one).

Anyway, in celebration of my dad, I asked him if he would teach me how to make his signature pumpkin pie. See, my mom is usually the primary chef, but there are two occasions when my dad takes over the kitchen: 1) to cut pineapples, and 2) to make pumpkin pie. He gladly set aside some time on Saturday afternoon to make one with me. We ended up making two, the only differences being that he pressed the crust on one and I did the other. It took A LOT longer than I anticipated--not that I minded--because we worked from scratch, meaning we took two whole pumpkins, sliced them up, scraped out the seeds and steamed them for an hour to make the puree.

I would readily give the recipe, as it turned out delicious, but in the process of making this pie I learned that it was not really mine to give. This recipe is not just my dad's; it belongs to both my parents. They have tweaked the traditional recipe (hint: the crust is very low cholesterol)and improved it and have used it for years, and it is always a hit. Only my parents make this pie. And now, so do I.

This just reaffirmed my belief that my family is the best family in the world, and that my parents' marriage is exemplary, for lack of a better word (perfect? enviable? unique? happy? functional?). Why? Because this is not just my mother's recipe, handed down from her mother in a traditionalist fashion. This is not a store-bought pie, lacking in love, time, and teamwork. This is not just any old pie out of any old cookbook. My parents created this together, lovingly, happily, through many years of steadfast commitment. They created a pie that they both loved (and apparently lowered their cholesterol intakes by doing it), regardless of what "grandma's recipe" called for(although don't tell my grandmas I said this!). They worked together to create a recipe that worked and produced delicious results, and have used it ever since. My parents are a perfect team.

What is this all a metaphor for? If it isn't already obvious: their marriage and our family. My parents are self-sufficient, open, caring, and though they come from drastically different backgrounds, their core values are the same. They built our family from the ground up through hard work and teamwork and an unconditional love for each other. They created an ideal recipe and constantly make improvements to it, which in my opinion is the perfect recipe--one that is delicious, but always open to betterment. Someday, hopefully, I'll follow in their footsteps and make my own.

And there is my delicious pie. Or rather, my parents' delicious pie. Or maybe--our family's delicious pie.

As we were laying down the crust, the trickiest part, my dad told me: you won't get it right the first time. I messed up plenty of times when I first made it, and had to start all over. But with practice, you'll get it. I like to think he was talking about something bigger than pie.

Happy October, everyone. I love my family. ♥

Am I Alone?

Carried away
On the wings of a whisper,
A whisper does not
Mean a thing
If so uttered;
A word written late
Is not but a stutter.
What can I believe?
My insides? They churn.
Yet my head doesn't burn.
Will I flow like the river,
Or lie like the sea?
Will I stumble like fire?
Who knows what I'll be
When the dust clears.
Who knows what I'll make him
What in him I'll change
His mind knows no silence
When out rings my name.
He will remember,
As surely will I.
The unknown is this:
Will we be side by side?



You are never alone.

Veggie Quinoa, Teriyaki Chicken & Kale Salad

As a college student, eating healthy and often takes some effort. I don't own a car (by choice really, so I can't complain), have a limited grocery budget and live at least a 30 minute bike ride from the closest health food store. I have had to make do with Safeway, which has made me a pro at deciphering food labels.

Anyway, I try and eat as well as I can, and I stay away ALWAYS from the processed, artificial, etc, but I still get really excited when I get to eat a wholesome, healthy, balanced meal. Enter my delicious Thursday night dinner.

Here we have enough fiber, protein, vitamins (largest concentrations: A, B, B2, and K) iron, etc etc etc to transform any old gal into a supergirl (and guys too, yeah yeah). It is very low in fat, almost all organic, and uber yummy. This is my go-to dinner: I've made it so many times and with such varied ingredients that I can whip it up in like 35 minutes (approximately 25 minutes cooking time, 10 minutes prep). I'd say that's pretty good. Oh, the recipe? Right here.

So if this was a baked good, I would give you very specific instructions. However, I believe that cooking should be done a little more by feel. I mean, how do I know if you want carrots in your stir-fry? So instead of a traditional recipe, I've written general guidelines. Enjoy!

For the quinoa:
1. Tri-color quinoa is the one I buy. You can get it almost anywhere. To cook it, the proportions are 1:2; 1 cup of quinoa to 2 cups of water. For fluffier, moister quinoa, go by 1:3.
2. One thing you have to know about quinoa is that it absorbs EVERY flavor of what you cook it with. After bringing the water to a boil and adding the quinoa, I add lots of salt and pepper. Then, when it has just nearly absorbed all the water, I add 1 cup of diced tomatoes (with juice). This achieves the same moist, fluffy quinoa as 3 cups of water, but infuses it with tomato. Yum!
3. While it's absorbing the tomato-y goodness (in a medium saucepan), I add stir-fried veggies. These are often leftovers for me, and this is a great way to re-use them. To make stir-fried veggies, heat a few teaspoons of oil in a sautee pan. Always add onions, garlic, and mushrooms first. When the onions begin to soften, add any other veggies you'd like: carrots, bell peppers, etc. Keep on medium to medium-low heat and DO NOT LEAVE ALONE. Stir often.
4. After adding the veggies, I wait for the quinoa to fully absorb the tomato juice. Then I turn off the burner and remove the pan from heat.
5. You can add anything you like to this--herbs, veggies, leafy greens, etc. It all depends on what you like. It can be a bit tricky monitoring two pans at once, so if time is not an issue, keep both on medium-low heat to avoid burning.

For the chicken:
1. This recipe works well for boneless, skinless chicken breasts and thighs. These are also the leanest parts of the chicken (thigh slightly leaner than breast).
2. Heat olive oil in a pan and dump in about a half cup of diced onions and at least a clove of garlic. This will serve as a bed for the chicken. (how cute)
3. Choose your favorite Teriyaki sauce. Cut chicken into pieces about the size of your palm and smother with the sauce. Lay on top of slightly carmelized onions, and pour another 1/2 cup or so of teriyaki into the pan (enough to cover the bottom).
4. Cover and cook on medium for 20 minutes, turning the chicken every 5. After 20 minutes, leave the lid off and cook for another 5-10 minutes. To check if it's ready, cut into one of the pieces. White, fall-apart meat on the inside is what you want. It's done!

For the kale salad:
As this is a salad, you can put together the ingredients in any order you'd like. This one has:
-raw kale
-pumpkin seeds
-sesame seeds
-sunflower seeds
-sunflower greens
-red onion
-lemon juice
-olive oil
And it is delicious! I'll let you experiment.

Note: this IS a lot to make in one night, at least for me. Leftovers are your friend! Also, buy organic whenever possible (or harvest organic! Gardens are also your friend).

Rocker

Music has, is, and always will be a vital part of my being. Only a song could possibly possess the means to explain why.

While music of every genre has made its way under my skin--jazz, symphonic metal, soul, folk, R&B, blues, classical--my soul is rock'n'roll through and through. Old time rock'n'roll. That's the stuff that really makes my bones tingle. And of all that old time rock'n'roll, Led Zeppelin is the one that I can say is my all time favorite band (CocoRosie, you are a close second).

If you want to rock out and hear some amazing riffs:




If you want to be gently carried away on currents of guitar strings, and maybe cry:




If you have half a brain I recommend you listen to all four. With any luck, something deep within you that you never knew was there may stir, and sing something back.

Am I Art?

Am I naked? You'll never know. My hair is my clothing and my skin is my makeup.
(I may, in fact, be wearing a dress with a plunging neckline)

Doodles

These are the Treblepeople. They are born from a floating treble clef and enter the Peoplemaking Flower as little spirals. The spiral-babies make their way through the stem-tunnels and in time get spit out as full-grown stick figures. They landed unexpectedly on my hand today in my Computer Science class and their only goal was to get to the tree on my thumb. Twas a long journey, but some of the little guys actually made it.

Sometimes I think: maybe I should take an art class. That way when I doodle, I will actually be doing what the teacher wants me to do. Then again, what is art if it can be taught? I think I'll look for a relatively unstructured one to fit into my class schedule. Wish me luck!

Love, Doodlegirl

My Little Muffins

Dear future Juliana,

A couple days ago you made your first batch of really delicious muffins. Perfect little pop-out-of-the-pan, pillow-top puffs of palpable pleasure. Okay, you may be flattering yourself a little bit, but in case you ever forget your recipe (all 10 ingredients of it), here it is.

Ingredients:
2 cups flour
1/2 cup white sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 cup milk
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup chocolate chips

You know what to do. Preheat the oven to 425*F. Mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl; whisk the egg in a separate small bowl and then add milk, vegetable oil and vanilla. Make a well in the dry mix and pour the wet mix in all at once. Stir lightly and quickly until batter is moistened, but leave lumpy. Gently fold in chocolate chips. Generously grease a muffin pan or line one with muffin cups. Fill cups 3/4 of the way full with the batter. As soon as you place them in the oven, lower the temperature to 400* (the higher initial temperature allows them to dome). Set the timer for 20 minutes and then check on them (or really, check on them constantly); if the tops are not yet golden, leave for another 3-5 minutes. If they're golden? Take em out, let em rest a few minutes, and bring them as a gift to someone you love, because or else you'll eat them all yourself within the hour.

Remember, you have to find a healthier alternative to this recipe. Next time try substituting:
Half a banana for the egg
7/4 cup whole wheat flour for 2 cups white flour
Less sugar all around, and maybe honey instead
Applesauce for vegetable oil (but still add 2 tsp of the latter for texture)
Blueberries for chocolate chips


Get on it girl! And go for a run! And yes, you did steal that picture from Google, because you forgot to take a picture of your own muffins. Be a more diligent documenter, please.

The Words I Have To Write

Yesterday--or rather, this morning at 4:30 am--I was refused by a sorority.

I am not a "sorority girl". Neither do I have stick-straight blond hair and big boobs and a tiny nose. I am one of those girls who has always had two or three close girlfriends, and the rest of my friends were guys (it's 100% on the mark that I get along with them more easily).

This particular sorority is different, though. It's not national or Panhellenic. It's local, Santa Cruz-y, with a real emphasis on genuineness, made up of mostly highly intelligent brunettes. At least, this is the perfect image I got of them when I rushed them my freshman year.
Oh, yeah, I've rushed them before.
My first week every in college, before I was settled, before I knew anyone, I put on my eyeliner-heavy sorority face and only spoke when spoken to. I easily did not make it; they didn't know who I was, because I didn't put myself out there. I was a little wounded but I moved on.

The next rush, some of my friends got in, and so when this year's Fall Rush rolled around last week, they convinced me to rush AGAIN. I was skeptical, but I decided to do it. I went to three nights of events and felt I connected with all these girls. Then I get a call this morning where they mispronounce my name and tell me that "due to the high volume of rushes we cannot ask you to come back for interviews tomorrow". Okay.

And you know what? I felt the pang of rejection and tossed and turned for a few minutes, but I had prepared myself for this. I've grown since last year; my life will not end because of a sorority. I figured that if I got asked back, then they like me and I like them, and it'll be a good match. If not? Well, I was completely 100% myself and presented them with exactly who I am, so if they didn't like me, then it's just a sign that we weren't meant to be friends. I could've faked it, but who wants to fake it forever? Too much work.

In short, I am myself, and I am proud of who I am, and with this attitude I can only make the right choices with the right friends. No, the sorority was not the right choice for me, but am I sad? Let down? Angry? None of those things (just a little peeved they pronounced my name wrong). In fact, now I have freed up my time to a) focus on my schoolwork yadayadayada,
b) make muffins for my new neighbor,
c) join the sailing team,
d) write an article for the school's environmental magazine,
e) cook with the medieval and renaissance club,
f)have time to visit my boyfriend often,
g) make some herbal concoctions I've been dreaming about,
h) have time to work out,
i) write my first computer program,
j) try out new recipes,
k) visit my family,
l) make my own dress.

I didn't even realize I can now do all that until I wrote it down just now. Wow. No, I am not exaggerating as to how much time being in a sorority (especially pledging one) takes up.

Well this certainly turned out for the better.

Update: upon seeing their new pledge class, many of whom I know, and doing some reflecting on what the sisters shared with us, my roommate and I realized that this sorority does not accept strong personalities. Rather, they take the shy, sweet, malleable girls and mold them into what they wish. They appear to turn out nicely by the time they're done, and hey, to each their own, but I'll keep my unwavering independence and outspoken quirkiness, thank you very much. Not feeling bad about this anymore. In fact, feeling a)relieved and b)more sure of who I am than ever. Now to do some homework.

Real Life Magic; Sleep

I get carried away by fantasy and impossibilities. Fantastical other-worlds, three limitless wishes, mermaids, trees with hearts and voices; all these things are ever-present in my mind, laughing, fluttering stewards of my imagination.

But what really makes my heart skip a beat? The incredible truths of reality: the ones that make you redefine what magic means to you, the ones that make you shelve your fantasies for a moment.

While our imaginations have the ability to stretch infinitely with very little effort, perceptible stretches of reality are only ever small; thus their rare presence, no matter how un-magical they are compared to the dryads dancing in the forests of my mind, is astounding.

They are those moments when something you worked hard for pays off, and you realize your own strength;
when mother earth reveals herself to you in a way that only you can perceive;
when the complexity of our biological composition and the way it makes us feel (sex, runner's highs, even incredible sadness) causes you to realize you are your own largely undiscovered world, with surprises, pleasures and pains around every corner.

One of the real things that fascinates me the most, and constantly connects me with this ever-present, all-natural magic, is sleep. A few hours ago I woke from a wonderful night's rest, feeling almost guilty as to how well I slept because my boyfriend wasn't there (I usually sleep best when he's with me). I know why I slept so well: it's simply because I had a long, busy day yesterday. I woke up at 6:30 am and was going going going until 9:30 pm, when I finally got back to my apartment. I did some homework, ate some noodles, watched a cooking show, read about herb gardening, and by the time I got in bed, I must have been fast asleep within five minutes.

How amazing is it that you can be unconscious, immobile, maybe enjoying a nice dream (more on this in a moment), and your body is preparing itself for the next day of your life all on its own? Sleep makes you happy, healthy, and here; by that I mean that when you are well rested, you are 100% present, ready to meet your day and the people and places in it with confidence and clarity.

I probably appreciate sleep more than most because I suffer from sleep apnea. The maturation of my body over the last year has actually (miraculously to me, though the doctors predicted it) caused me to grow out of the worst of it, but every once in a while I have a terrible night's sleep that takes me back to my hazy high school days. I actually dropped out of high school for a while when I was 16 because I slept so rarely it made it impossible for me to go to class.

Sleep has the power to restore us, to rejuvenate us, to wipe clean the slates of our minds, to encircle us in unconscious comfort, to render us vulnerable yet indifferent, to keep us alive.

And then there are dreams. Worlds fabricated by your own mind where you can do anything you wish, anything, without disturbing any real people (or being subject to their opinions). You can completely immerse yourself in one, touch, feel, move--albeit in a strange way, and often I can't move in dreams--see, and sometimes even smell and taste. How awesome is that?

In short, sleep is magic; real magic. To prove that I am not the only one who believes this, here are quotes by some pretty rad (understatement) people who seem to agree with me as to the power of sleep and dreams.

“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”
― Ernest Hemingway

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”
― Dr. Seuss