California

California dreams. I lived in California for four and a half years and I decided this winter that it was time to return and visit my friends. I landed at midnight at LAX and stumbled out of the airport to find my friends in their car waiting for me. I think squelling was involved when we first saw one another. As we drove from LAX to their city in Orange County, I kept thinking how crazy it was that I had lived there. The overwhelming amount of smog, cement, and traffic greeted me as we sped down the freeway. There are parts of Southern California that are beautiful and there are parts that are not. The only beautiful part is the diversity, the friends, the families, that inhabit the cement city.

The next day I woke up, packed up some things, and drove to a park to have a mini college reunion. It was so good to see everyone! Catch up on life and hear about what they are doing right now. Here is a picture of my first roommate, her husband, and baby. It was so good to spend time with them!

I also had the opportunity to go to a benefit banquet for an organization my friend Meg works at. It was fun to see and hear the work that they are doing and how her passion fits within their framework. Meg has a gift to work with kids and right now she works in a hard neighborhood, with tough kids, and yet still creates an environment for them to just be kids. In addition to the banquet, I had a chance to see her in action and do her thang during her program. Below is a picture of a few friends dressed up for the banquet.

And, of course, it seems like when I come into town I force my old roommates to get together and hang out. Unfortunately, not all of them were available this weekend- but it was good to get some of them together! I am so blessed by their friendships.

Finally, what would a trip to Southern California be without some great Asian food? Noodles, Currey, Boba, oh my! I love the diversity of food options in California. Below is boba from Half and Half. The new Asian- go-to Boba place in SoCal. Their boba is honey flavored and it was delicious. It was also the size of a pint of ice cream.

This trip to California was wonderful. I slipped back to my friend's lives very easily- to the point where I was shocked at how easy it was. While these are not all the people I saw, or things I did while in California- it gives you a taste for why I visit California. Its not for the beaches, or Disneyland, or movie starts (although I sat next to Julia Roberts on my flight out). I visit California for my friends, for the community they have, and the joy visiting brings.

Pollo in Potacchio

So I wrote up a few blog entries about various recipes I have tried in the last few months but never posted them. I'll be honest. It is Monday night and I have had no blog inspiration from the last few days. So I guess the default is to use an already written, unpublished, entry on a recipe. This one is good. I've made it a few times and will do so again when I have a kitchen back. It is easy, tasty, and healthy. And for those who are into the gluten free trend (or those who are really a celiac) it does not contain gluten.

Pollo in Potacchio (GF)

I've made Pollo in Potacchio twice in the last few months. It is a bit labor intensive than my normal but totally worth it. Anyone who cooks outside of the US, this would be considered an "easy" meal. When I lived in East Africa, I would easily spend two hours in the kitchen making dinner from scratch- I mean, really scratch. We don't cook from scratch in the US anymore. Okay, so the dinner. It is more like Chicken Stew than anything else. And I LOVE IT.

Pollo in Potacchio
Written by SkinnyTastes.com with my modifications.

Ingredients:
10 skinless chicken thighs (with bone) [note: I used chicken breast, cut it into small bite-sized pieces)
kosher salt and fresh black pepper
3 - 4 small sprigs fresh rosemary (the more the better!)
1 tbsp + 1 tsp olive oil
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
pinch red pepper flakes (optional)
2 cups Imported crushed tomatoes (Tuttoroso) [note: I didn't have crushed tomatoes on hand this time, and just used tomato sauce and it tasted just as good!]
1/4 tsp dried marjoram
1/4 cup dry white wine (Pinot Grigio)[note: I used cooking wine]
2 cups low sodium, fat free chicken broth


Directions:

1.Lightly season the chicken with salt and fresh pepper. If you are using chicken breast then cut into small pieces. Place a Dutch Oven or large heavy pot on medium-high heat. Add 1 tbsp oil, when hot add the chicken and sear until browned on all sides. I like using tongs to move them around for each side to get done. Transfer chicken to a dish and set aside.

2.Sauté garlic and onions (and red pepper flakes if using) in remaining oil; sauté until golden, stirring occasionally. Add celery and carrots and saute on medium-low, until soft. Add the wine and chicken broth, scraping any caramelized bits from the bottom.

3.Add tomatoes, marjoram, reduce heat to low, adjust salt and pepper to taste and simmer for 30 minutes.

4.Add the chicken and rosemary to the sauce, partially cover and cook slowly on low heat for another 25 - 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, adding water if needed.


Nutrition: Serves: 5 - 10 • Serving Size: 1 thigh with sauce
Calories: 123 • Fat: 4.6 g • Protein: 14.3 g • Carb: 4.1 g • Fiber: 0.7 g • Sugar: 0.5 g
Sodium: 186.4

Comments: I adjusted this recipe a bit but overall I really liked it. The first time I made it, I felt like there was too much sauce and this last time I made it I felt like there was no enough. Next time around, I will probably use 1 1/2 cups broth. I paired it with roasted broccoli, which the fam. equally loved.

Source:www.skinnytaste.com/

Bon Appetite!

The Reno: Part One.

Did I mention that my parents are remodeling their house? Well, they are. From 7:30 in the morning until 5:00pm we have a great team of construction specialists in our house. I think their mission is to make as much noise as possible. It probably is a man thing... or a construction thing. Anyway, they are all hard workers and it is amazing to see the progress they make every day.

This afternoon, after a respectful noon day break from the noise to allow me to have a phone interview without banging and pounding and jack hammers, I came upstairs and the electrician- who has a long pony tail, crooked smile, and jeans that proudly say "I'm a man's man- I work hard for my money"- opened his hands and said, "well- how'd it go!?" The four other men, none of whom I had met until that minute- stopped working, stared at me expectantly and wanted to know. This is shocking to me. Here are a group of men who have mastered a trade, who work hard for their income, and care about the people who live inside the house they are remodeling. Even the adult child of the people who are paying their salary for the day. In that moment, I felt proud. Proud to be a Minnesotan. Proud to be a citizen of the United States. Proud to know that there are people out there that know that finding a job today is hard, who are willing to take their lunch break so that someone can have an interview in peace, and then ask about it.

At the end of the day today, these men cheered because they got the gas line to work. They are proud of their work and I am proud to know them.

This probably will not be the last post about The Reno. It will be going on for another 80 days. Yes, I am counting. However today, despite the loud construction noises, I am thankful for a bunch of hardworking men who cared enough to ask me how my interview went.

Morning Commutes

There is something about morning commutes that make me feel alive. I don't know why, but they do. I have fond memories of morning commutes. Most people dread them, hate them, move closer to their work so that the time is shorter, etc. But they make me happy.

When I was in college and still living in the dorms, I would walk into the bathroom and my friend would be sighing with happy sighs that the day had begun. The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, not everyone was awake, the breakfast bland, but the company enjoyable. I filled up my cup with ice, to chew in class to stay awake, before I would join in the throngs of students sleepily moving towards their classrooms. Professors somehow were always more awake. At least, the ones that taught early classes.

When I lived in Kenya, the feet that traveled the dirt paths alongside the roads of Nairobi, the cars honking, the smell of exhausted filling your nostrils, ultimately making them black, kept me alive. I was so exhausted that I just followed my friend's feet in front of me, one after the other in the cold air. The smell of burning garbage, smoking maize, and dust filled the air. Exhausted, happy, worried, and filled with life that I was part of the morning commute.

When I worked in Minnesota, I would commute with my dad. He would drive in, and I would drive out. Pitch black, with only the headlights to light the way, we would enter the lineup of cars wanting to enter the freeway. By the time we were onto our second highway, I was nodding off, trusting that my dad would get us where we needed to be. But on our way home. Our way home I drove, and we chatted about our days. He would be exhausted, but I would be full of life. Even sitting behind cars of people, I felt content. Part of society.

When I moved to Boston, I walked to "work" aka school. A morning rush and fight over the one single bathroom I shared with my roommates. The making of coffee, splitting the pot with my friend. Feeling like I was a duck, following my friends up the hill to the university. One step, two steps, three steps more. The song, "we are following the leader, the leader" played in my head a lot. I felt alive in the morning, with cool crisp air that filled my lungs. Happy.

When I moved to DC I took the train. I felt empowered. I would park my car in a pre-paid spot, happy that I had scored such a deal. I would walk the few blocks to the train station and swipe my smart pass through the gate, grabbing a newspaper along the way. I would stand on the right side of the escalator for those who were incredibly rushed could run by. I knew where to stand on the track so that the door would open exactly in front of me, allowing me to get the choice seat. I sat and read the paper, listened to music, and people watched. I transfered trains smoothly, knew where to throw my paper into the recycle at the end of my ride. I got mad at tourists, even angrier at the transit committee for trains breaking down, and would compare horror stories with my coworkers about the metro. Buy I was part of the daily commute of people who worked for powerful people. The people who made decisions about the country and the world.

When I lived in Uganda, the sounds I heard as I woke up were what made me feel part of the commute. School kids walking by, talking and gossiping. Boda Boda drivers revving their engines. The sounds of my landlady greeting the staff, jumping her car, running to her next destination. The lorries honking their horns as they narrowly missed the neighborhood goat. The beginning of a new day.

This morning, I was up and out of the house. I spent the morning at a tea shop and got a glimpse of the morning commute. Regulars coming in and ordering their drinks, mothers having tea dates to catch up, school kids running in with their mom's money to buy her a cup of tea. The rhythm of morning life. It gives me joy.

Morning commutes are good. It shows life, the economy, culture, and customs. It makes me feel apart of something.

Dreaming

I dream about Uganda. At night, I go to bed and during my dreams scenes from the Ugandan country side slide through my head. Dancing with children, meeting with mothers so desperate to help their kids, meeting with men who are hopeless and have given up to drink their lives away. At night, I leave my comfortable mattress, in my warm home in the middle of the United States and travel to Africa in my dreams. I was really close to landing a job that would have put me in south eastern Africa. I was so excited to get back to my second home, to work with the people I love. The job didn't pan out. So instead, I visit Uganda in my dreams every night. Praying that someday I will be able to return to my favorite part of the world.