Imagine taking a bite of a soft, fluffy pancake. As you slice those friendly little triangle bites out of the circular golden brown wonder – no knife required as the tenacity of the cake gives way under your fork – you anticipate that particular crumble and chew. Pancakes are gorgeous. Everyone knows it. [Read more…]
You know when you’re really hungry, like tummy is starting to rumble hungry, and you aren’t up for whole process of making a meal? This is where many of us get into trouble and start munching on the nearest bag of chips or rice cakes to take the edge off of that annoying hunger. We end up eating way more carbs than we need, and we don’t necessarily feel satisfied.
Flavory, savory and easy. I love this paté recipe I whipped up last weekend. It sounds way cooler and more complicated than it is. [Read more…]
Before I was a writer in LA, I was a writer and musician in Ohio. I was part of a three-piece girl band called The Faux Paus. We met in film school.
One of my favorite songs of ours was one I co-wrote with Amanda about leaving our families and homes behind to strike out and “give it a shot” in the great unknown. Click the following link to hear it and see the music video which I shot on film (fair warning- it’ll probably make you cry). It’s called Come Along Evangeline.
It features the anticipation and birth of my first niece, Evie. From when we wrote the song through shooting and editing the film, and now reflection on that piece, I’ve been processing the bittersweetness of life.
One of the lines in the song is, “There are tunnel trains to ride, window plants to grow, hands to shake from corners of the world I hope to know.” At times now in the busyness of life, I find myself realizing things I’d hoped and strived for, even in these average experiences.
Living in Los Angeles has offered me an expansive selection of new hands to shake from far corners of the world; enriching my life and broadening my perspective in little friendly degrees.
That line popped into my head this past weekend as I wandered around the Los Angeles Korean Festival with Nick and a couple friends from film school who moved out here too, Chelsea and Kenny.
Hunched over at Sqirl in Silver Lake, I underlined particular passages which I had dog-eared, read the poems of Dr. Zhivago at the end of the book and imbibed some of the most praised morsels in LA.
The combination of a good book and good food is not always easy to attain, and I wasn’t taking this hour for granted. The scent of the weathered volume managed to waft through the scent of sausages browning and biscuits crisping in the oven of the tiny cafe, taking me back to my second year of college.
I’m twenty one. The room is pungent with the weepy, warm scent of the tree bark leaflets of old books. I scan the poetry section at a library book sale for familiar names or a new title that would spark interest.
My mom used to bake fish fillets in the oven in the colder months. I loved the way the golden smell would permeate our entire home and promise the hot, juicy white fish; crisp on the outside, moist and tender on the inside. That extra layer of crust can be so satisfying and really keeps the juices in.
With this version of the favorite seafood so many of us grew up on, the sensory satisfaction of the mealy coating is combined with the comfort of knowing exactly what you’re putting into your body and feeling good about it.