blueberry picking.

{photo by Handmade by Deb}

Last Saturday, I got up early and headed to a tiny little town 30 minutes away for some blueberry picking with friends. As we drove, the storm clouds came in, and we spent most of our time in this wonderfully drizzly weather. I guess it wasn't ideal for blueberry-picking, but it kept the temperature down and wound up being really lovely. The three of us spread out about the field, and I fell in love with the monotony, the repetitiveness of it. I loved how long it took, how my arms were a little sore the next day from holding my three-pound bucket, how I felt like I was doing real work, not work in front of a computer or over the phone.

When I got home, I washed my pretty blueberries and packed them in the freezer, but not before I made a couple of recipes I thought were worth sharing. The first is for a blueberry lemonade, a recipe I was given at a local farm tour a couple of summers ago. It's delicious, but rather sweet, so you may want to cut down on the sugar if you stay clear of that sort of thing. It's the perfect summertime drink, especially if you're like me, and the Southern summers get a little overwhelming with their heat and humidity.

The second recipe is for a delicious breakfast cake; we've eaten it for breakfast the past couple of days, but it's easily sweet enough to serve as a summer dessert too. The blueberries add the perfect amount of tartness, but I bet you could substitute another berry of your choice.

---

Blueberry Lemonade Tea

3 cups of water
1/2 cup of sugar
1 (6 oz.) can frozen lemonade concentrate
1 sliced lemon
2 family size tea bags*
4 cups of cold water
1/4 cup frozen blueberries, thawed and pureed

Boil three cups of water. Add tea bags. Cover and steep for 10 minutes. Remove and discard tea bags. Add sugar and blueberries, stirring well. Add lemonade concentrate. Stir until blended and add cold water and sliced lemon. Chill and serve over ice. Makes 9 cups.

*I used three regular Lipton tea bags

---

Buttermilk-Blueberry Breakfast Cake (from here)

1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature (I used just a little less, and it turned out just fine.)
zest from 1 large lemon
7/8 cup* + 1 tablespoon sugar** (7/8 cup = 3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons; the add't tablespoon is for sprinkling)
1 egg, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
2 cups fresh blueberries
1/2 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 300 to 350ºF, depending on your oven.

Cream butter with lemon zest and 7/8 cup of the sugar until light and fluffy.

Add the egg and vanilla and beat until combined. Meanwhile, toss the blueberries with ¼ cup of flour, then whisk together the remaining flour, baking powder and salt. Add the flour mixture to the batter a little at a time, alternating with the buttermilk. Gently fold in the blueberries.

Grease a 9-inch square baking pan with butter or coat with non-stick spray. Spread batter into pan. (It will be thick!) Sprinkle batter with remaining tablespoon of sugar. Bake for 25 to 35 minutes.

saving my life: pie.

Is it sad that as I sat down to write this post, I had to think -- really, really think -- about what's been saving my life this week?

Because I really couldn't tell you off the top of my head.

I'm just so tired. April's been a tough month, and I'm hoping May and I fair better.

Jordan and I have been going nonstop for the past 30 days or so, and I kept saying yes to things when I probably should have said no. I've been mostly muddling through, going through the motions, and it's taken its toll. This weekend, we're headed out of town with friends; next weekend, we've got tickets for JazzFest in New Orleans, and the following weekend, we have a wedding and a graduation out of town to attend.

I could cry just thinking about it all.

Don't get me wrong: These are all good, fun things. But for a girl who's mostly an introvert, the extrovert-ness of one event after another can be hard to handle, and I'm concerned May might be doomed from the beginning.

But I'm nothing if not determined (and stubborn!), and despite our already filled-to-the-brim month, I'm willing May to be better than April. I'm prayerful that I will have learned from April's mistakes, mainly, that a) it's okay to say no, and b) it's okay -- even necessary -- to take care of myself first.

This week, though, it's still April, and things have been rough. So on Tuesday, after spending an afternoon preparing invitations and banners for my cousin's graduation banquet, I went home to make a pie.

I had a lengthy list of other things I could have done, maybe even should have done. But instead, I looked at the clock and decided two-ish hours was enough time to enjoy the process of cooking dinner. It's not time I normally have, so I relished it. I plugged in the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, and I got to work on my pie.

Family members and close friends, of course, know: I am not a pie eater. In fact, I detest pie. I loathe it. This, as you can imagine, makes for difficult Thanksgivings, when virtually everywhere I turn, there are pies. No cookies, no cakes... just pies. I'll blame my hatred of pie for the fact that I've never actually made one, and certainly not one entirely from scratch, crust and all.

But Tuesday, I came to the kitchen armed with a recipe for tomato and corn pie, and because I have a terrible habit of failing to thoroughly read the entire recipe before setting my hands to chopping and cooking, I failed to even realize I was handmaking the crust. This accident actually worked in my favor; by simply proceeding step-by-step through the instructions, I didn't even have time to realize I should have been nervous about making my very first pie crust. Instead, I just read the directions, making for a nerve-free pie-baking experience. (I am a champion at reading directions.)

I rolled the dough without too much thought; I chopped nearly two pounds of tomatoes and slowly boiled corn. I had time to enjoy the process, which is rare. I didn't even panic when I realized I don't really have an adequate pie pan (see: hatred of pie) and grabbed my lone, shallow cake pan. (It worked just fine.)

Here's what happens when you don't read the entire recipe first: You don't really have time to panic. I didn't spend the entire cooking process concerned about my chilled dough. Instead, while I chopped tomatoes, I actually chopped tomatoes. When I rolled out the top of my pie crust and cut weird-shaped diamonds in it all wrong, I didn't get angry, didn't panic. I had time, so I started over. I didn't YouTube, didn't Google, didn't call my mom. I just went for it. And you know what? Not half bad.

My entire kitchen smelled delicious by the time 5:30 rolled around. I hadn't finished my Bible study, hadn't done a stitch of laundry, hadn't even made the bed, but you know what?

I didn't care. None of it mattered.

I had a homemade pie in the oven.

It was absolutely delicious -- even divine, perhaps -- and this week? Well, this week, it saved my life.

* recipe here

comfort food.

{image from Bippity Boppity Boo}

Sunday was our monthly supper club meeting, and while I had the grandest of intentions to bake this decadent-looking chocolate cake, reality struck at about midnight Saturday as we drove back into town from a business trip in St. Augustine. Chocolate chip cookies seemed like a suitable compromise, since this month's meal was designed around comfort food, and tell me: What's more comforting than a homemade chocolate chip cookie?

My mom graciously found me this recipe online, and although I wound up using a smaller amount of instant vanilla pudding, they turned out just fine. Better than fine, actually, especially considering my 1970s-style oven, which has caused many a heartbreak (and a smoke alarm) over the past couple of years. The recipe made about 40 bite-sized cakey cookies, enough for supper club and small groups and this week's lunches.

One note: Because of my aformentioned oven, I have to reduce the baking temperature by 50 degrees and the cook time by a few minutes. If you're like me and living in an older apartment, try preheating your oven to 325 or 350 and cooking for 8 to 10 minutes on a pizza stone rather than a baking sheet.

Absolute perfection. And comforting, to boot.

Ingredients:

1 cup butter, softened

3/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup white sugar

1 (3.5 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding mix (I used 2.5 oz)

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (this is a lot of chocolate chips; you could easily use a little less)

Instructions:

1 - Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2 - In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugars. Add pudding mix, eggs and vanilla. Combine flour and baking soda; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Fold in chocolate chips.

3 - Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned.

* See full recipe and comments here.

31 days || thirty: supper club + getting it done.

{photo via anton sugar}

I first mentioned my hopes for a cooking club way back in June. I had just gotten back from the beach (oh, how I miss it!), just finished reading Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet and Capon's  The Supper of the Lamb. I was coming down from a creativity high, and plans for a cooking club were the result. 

Four months and a couple dozen recipes later, our cooking club consists of five couples, some we know well, some we don't. Our first meeting back in September had to be postponed -- thank you, head cold that lasted way longer than seven days -- and when we reconvened, only a handful of us could attend, so I threw a random dinner party instead. It wasn't really a supper club, and that's okay. Now we're trying to get back on track, so we're throwing a soup-themed lunch this afternoon. Our fingers are crossed in the hopes that all 10 of us (plus three little ones) make it in one piece. 

Here's the thing: Celebration doesn't always look like we've envisioned it. Life's reality isn't Pinterest boards and blog posts. It's budgets and hectic schedules and "we're-just-doing-the-best-we-can."

Sometimes, you just have to make do with what you have. 

Sometimes, you just have to make things happen. 

Is cooking club everything I always dreamed it would be? Does it read like a chapter out of Niequist's book? No, I guess not. But you know what? It's five couples doing the best they can to make cooking and eating and being together a priority. And in these bizarre years where Facebook and online communication are overtaking the lives we lead with our neighbors day-to-day? Well, I'll take all that I can get.

Community is messy. People are messy. Plans are messy.

If you wait for everything in your life to be perfect, if you wait for all your ducks to be in a row, if you wait for the perfect meal, the perfect moment, the perfect friends, the perfect house, the perfect schedule...

Celebration won't happen. 

Life won't happen. 

You'll wind up sad, lonely, and your gifts will never even have made it out of the box. 

If you're waiting on something to celebrate, stop. If you're spending your days just pinning ideas to an online bulletin board, stop.

Make something happen. 

Cook a new recipe, call over a couple of friends. 

Have people over for a scary movie on Halloween. 

Read that book that's been on your list and share it with those you love. 

Go out for a girls' night. 

Do something.

Sure, things don't always end up like we've planned or imagined. 

But sometimes, if we're lucky, they turn out even better.

We just have to give it our best shot. 

31 days || twenty-two: the joy of cooking.

{photo by Mandy of Harper's Happenings, recipe here}

I like to cook when it is fun. 

What I mean is: I do not like to walk into my house at 5:45, scan the items in my refrigerator and pantry, and promptly “whip something up.” Because let the record show: I cannot whip anything up, and I certainly cannot whip something up in the time it takes me to get hungry at the end of a day (approximately 30 minutes to an hour). 

But I can, when the occasion occurs, find a recipe I like on Pinterest or in one of my half-dozen cookbooks or in an email from a friend. I can make a list and plan out a weekly menu and buy groceries. I can cook with Jordan and have a meal ready in time for Jeopardy!. 

All of this, I thoroughly enjoy… when there is time. 

That, I think, is key. Time. 

If I want to enjoy cooking, there has to be time. 

This weekend, I am making some time, and I am going to try my hand at this. And this. 

As an adult, cooking has never been my favorite, not for lack of interest, but again, for lack of time. And, I am, it must be confessed, highly influenced by Lorelai Gilmore, and alas: There is no Sookie in my life to come over and cook up something fabulous at a moment's notice. 

But I enjoy the moments I share with Jordan in the kitchen. I enjoy the dance we develop in our tiny kitchen, coming from the pantry to the counter, the oven to the refrigerator, dodging each other and the dog laying at our feet. 

I enjoy knowing I created something with my hands for the two of us. I enjoy putting good things into my body. I enjoy the concocting and the — nerd alert! — directions-following. 

I do not ever think I will be one of those people who whips things up. I will probably never add a pinch of this and a dash of that. 

Instead, I will look for recipes that make my mouth water. I will slip and slide my way through the grocery store, smiling at the fish man as he explains to me what “shelled and deveined” shrimp look like. I will — perhaps not every night, but some nights — take the time to cook a meal with my hands. 

I will enjoy the effort, and I will celebrate, because sometimes I remember: I am growing up in the best kind of ways. 

--- 

Do you enjoy cooking? Why or why not? 

a little recipe.

{photo by Paige Knudsen of Simple Thoughts}

I'm short on brainpower this morning, but I wanted to share this recipe, first published by Paige Knudsen of Simple Thoughts (a blog I happen to really love). Jordan and I had it last night, and it's honestly one of my most favorite meals I've ever made: so simple and light tasting; it reminded me of our trip to Italy -- now six years ago (yikes!). Like Paige, we grilled our chicken last week, so this meal was super quick; we put it together in about 15 to 30 minutes, and it was YUM. 

Grilled Chicken, Zucchini, and Pesto

- Marinate chicken breasts (we used these thin sliced ones that Jordan likes better for grilling purposes) with lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil, garlic powder (we used garlic salt), paprika, salt, and pepper
- Grill chicken (this can be done in advance; we used leftovers from a previous recipe)
- Prepare angel hair pasta as instructed
- Dice grilled chicken
- Toss chicken in pan of olive oil
- Add chopped zucchini (we used one)
- Cook until soft
- Add pasta, 1/2 cup of pesto, fresh Parmesan, fresh basil, and cherry tomatoes (ours were from my dad's garden... delicious!)

Paige probably explains it all a little better than I do, but you get the idea. This wasn't a recipe with a lot of measurements, but what do you know? It turned out to be really wonderful. It might just be the perfect weeknight meal for summertime. (Bonus: It feels like you're eating something super healthy and good for you. But, in Jordan's words, it tastes better than Whataburger. I'd call that success.)

Enjoy!

cooking club.

 {photo by Teri Lyn Fisher for Rue magazine}

I want to start a cooking club.

Before you remind me that I consider slice-and-bake cookies “homemade,” hear me out.

Part of my dreaming at the beach was inspired by the books I was reading: this, this, and this, respectively (full recaps to follow later this month). And a theme, at least in those last two, was food.

How it brings us together.

How it brings us closer to the Father.

How it brings us into truer and richer community with those we love. (See here.)

I am an okay cook. I can follow a recipe, and I’ve gotten to a point where I’m pretty good about trying new things.

But I don’t always enjoy cooking. I get home at 6:00 in the evening, which is about the time I grew up eating. By the time we have walked the dog and checked the mail and generally unwound from our days, it is 6:30 or 7:00, and I am running around like a madwoman trying to get everything ready before Alex Trebek graces our screen at 7:30. (I refuse to eat past 8:00. It doesn’t feel healthy to me.)

This year has gotten better. Jordan and I are on the same schedule, and we have begun to cook together, which I find far more enjoyable than cooking alone.

Which brings me to the idea of a cooking club.

Tallahassee is a transient town.

People come in and out and back again.

We’re not sure what life will hold in the coming months, but because we signed a two-year lease and both have jobs we enjoy, we’re guessing we’ll be staying put for at least the next year.

And even though we’re sad when friends leave and say good-bye, I don’t want to be sad all the time.

I want to pursue community, even when my feelings get hurt or things don’t work out quite the way I’d imagined.

I want to always be growing and stretching and trying new things.

Over two years ago, I helped to start a book club. It’s a new year’s resolution that stuck, and despite some goings and comings, we’re still 10 members strong. Each month we gather and eat and discuss and share, and it has not ceased to be a blessing.

I want more of that.

Not so much that my calendar is full and my commitments are too many to count, but enough that I am too busy to focus on the things I simply cannot control.

Shauna Niequist wrote in Bittersweet the value of being a part of something, of joining a club, of putting yourself out there and risking rejection.

So I think I’m going to give it a try.

Maybe it will flop. But maybe it won’t. Maybe, like I did with book club, I’ll find some likeminded people who want to go a little deeper.

Maybe, just maybe, it will work.

---

Are you a part of a cooking club? What has worked/hasn’t worked for you? I’m thinking of using the guidelines Niequist set for her own cooking club, but I’m really open to any and all suggestions. At this point, I’d like to stretch outside of my comfort zone and maybe invite some people outside of my little bubble; I’d also like to focus on couples, since book club is an all-girls affair, and I'd like to share this venture with Jordan.

So, any ideas to share? I’d love to hear.

lent: week six + a recipe.

{photo by Matthew Brookes, via Mary Swenson}

Here we are, folks. The end of the road.

Lent is coming to a close, and as I've mentioned before, I'm not entirely sure I've really grasped the true meaning of the season. It's hard without a community of faith supporting and guiding you through, reminding you of the significance behind the tradition of sacrifice. My hope is that each year, I will get better. I will mature. My faith will grow. My sacrifice will mean something.

Until then, I have learned this:

I am weak.

And He is strong.

Through these weeks of sacrifice, of life without sugar, I have been reminded that He did this too.

He walked this path. Lived this life. Gave of Himself for the sake of the Father.

My hope is that this season has trained me. That when Easter has come and gone, I will remember His generous spirit. That I will lean toward generosity myself. That sacrifice will flow easily out of me, and He will be praised.

--

{photo from The Food Network}

Now, my gift to you: a spring/summertime recipe that will knock your socks off and provide you with the perfect leftover lunches. Thank you, Ina. You are a genius.

A few things worth noting:

- This recipe is easy, but it takes much longer than 15 minutes. Maybe I'm just not a great kitchen multitasker, but all of the chopping involved took me quite a bit of time. Plus, if you don't read the entire recipe in advance (uh, guilty), you'll reach the bottom and discover the entire thing is supposed to either be refrigerated overnight, or needs to sit for an hour "marinating." Whoops.

- Orzo pasta is delicious.

- If you have leftover shrimp, you could prepare them as the recipe calls for: doused with olive oil and salt and pepper. Just roast in the oven for six to seven minutes, and you'd have half a meal, ready to go.

- Jordan said this was in his top five of things I have cooked. This deserves recognition, I think.

- I'm not sure how many this recipe is supposed to serve, but I went ahead and prepared it according to the directions, and I'm glad. It may be better leftover than it is the night of. My lunches have never tasted so good.

- This recipe calls for things like scallions, dill, cucumber, red onion, and feta cheese. I am a picky eater, but let me tell you: these flavors combine to make something magnificent. And I think it's official: I'm becoming a grown-up.

Here she is in all her glory. Enjoy!

--

Ingredients

* Kosher salt
* Good olive oil
* 3/4 pound orzo pasta (rice-shaped pasta)
* 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (3 lemons)
* Freshly ground black pepper
* 2 pounds (16 to 18 count) shrimp, peeled and deveined
* 1 cup minced scallions, white and green parts
* 1 cup chopped fresh dill
* 1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
* 1 hothouse cucumber, unpeeled, seeded, and medium-diced
* 1/2 cup small-diced red onion
* 3/4 pound good feta cheese, large diced

Directions

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Fill a large pot with water, add 1 tablespoon of salt and a splash of oil, and bring the water to a boil. Add the orzo and simmer for 9 to 11 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it's cooked al dente. Drain and pour into a large bowl. Whisk together the lemon juice, 1/2 cup olive oil, 2 teaspoons salt and 1 teaspoon of pepper. Pour over the hot pasta and stir well.

Meanwhile, place the shrimp on a sheet pan, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss to combine and spread out in a single layer. Roast for 5 to 6 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Don't overcook!

Add the shrimp to the orzo and then add the scallions, dill, parsley, cucumber, onion, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Toss well. Add the feta and stir carefully. Set aside at room temperature for 1 hour to allow the flavors to blend, or refrigerate overnight. If refrigerated, taste again for seasonings and bring back to room temperature before serving.

Full recipe and reviews found here.

lent: week two.

"So, is this like a spiritual thing, or is this really more of a diet thing?" 

It was a fair enough question, but I was a little bit startled when she asked. 

The truth is, in my heart, I want this to be spiritual. I want the sacrifice I'm making to remind me of my weakness and His strength, of my failure and His grace.

But almost every day, I'm asking myself another form of that same question, which basically boils down to: Am I even doing this right? 

I think I've mentioned it here before, but it's probably worth mentioning again: My community of faith doesn't actively practice Lent, or really adhere to the church calendar in general. Lent is something I practiced on my own for a few years, and is now something Jordan and I practice together. I wonder, though, if what I seem to be missing from my Lenten journey is community. I pore over blog posts about Lent (you can check out some of my favorites here, here, and here), and I anxiously await your comments in hopes that I am not the only one just muddling through. But I don't gather with other believers on a weekly basis, hearing about their Lenten journey, sharing what they've learned in their years of practice, and I wonder if that's maybe the missing piece to my puzzle, if maybe weekly community with other Lent practitioners would help me "get it" more.

Basically, I want you to know: I have not a clue what I'm doing. All I know is that it's hard some days, and easier on others. I guess, yes, from the outside, this probably looks like a dietary practice. I'm trying to eat more healthily, trying to focus on putting good things into my body instead of bad. But in this act of sacrifice, I'm also trying to draw closer to the One who made me. I don't necessarily "feel" that closeness every day as I forgo Cokes and cookies. But I really, truly hope (and have to believe) that my Father is looking down on me, smiling at my feeble attempts to please Him.

{Random plug: I don't mention my church often on the blog, but I just have to share this past Sunday's sermon with you. Seriously, one of the best I've ever heard. Just click below to listen.}

lent: week one.

 {photo by Amanda Green Bottoms via Mary Swenson}

First off, thank you for all of your comments on Monday’s post. When it was all said and done, we wound up donating an additional $95 to the American Red Cross. It feels like not-enough, but it is something. Let’s continue to offer up the people of Japan in our prayers. Distance, I think, can too often make us feel detached from tragedy. I don’t want to be detached.

I promised weekly updates on my Lenten journey, but I don’t want this to turn into a “Look what I did for Lent” post. So, I’ll try to keep today short and to the point.

Not eating sugar is hard. I have more of a sweet tooth than I realized, not for candy, necessarily, but for cookies and Coke. I miss those things, and last Thursday and Friday — the first couple of days of Lent — were especially difficult. Otherwise, though, I’m beginning to wonder if this is how we were really meant to eat: carefully and intentionally. I do feel better throughout the day, though I suppose I could attribute that to the fact that I’m now packing my own snacks (apples and string cheese in the morning; cashews and strawberries in the afternoon) and drinking more water.

I also have discovered other, better ways of getting natural sugars into my body. I’m eating an inordinate amount of fruit, and Simply Lemonade and Welch’s grape juice both only use natural sugars, so while I still try to mostly drink water, the occasional amount of raspberry lemonade almost helps me forget about Coke. I’m eating better in the mornings. Breakfasts have included vegan, gluten-free and sugar-free raspberry scones (recipe here) and Ezekiel toast with apple slices.

After seven days, though, I’m not sure that sacrificing sugar — or any other type of food or activity — is what Lent is all about. I’ve found myself thinking a lot about the Pharisees, how they got so wrapped up in their knowledge and practice of food laws (and other Mosaic laws) that they missed out on what was really important: God in the flesh. Love. Forgiveness. I don’t want Lent to become that for me. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in what I’ve given up or in the rules that I’ve made for myself that I ignore the real meaning of Lent, this act of lessening myself to make more of Him. The daily sacrifice I’m making should point to the Savior, not to my own capabilities or my own goodness. If anything, it should be a reminder of how unworthy I am of God’s grace, but how He continues to bestow it: a constant stream of daily blessing.

Giving up sugar has been hard, though it probably shouldn’t be. I have a little bit more energy throughout the day. My face is clearer. I feel better. The benefits, I can tell, will far outweigh the difficulties. This seven-day experiment has proven, though (and maybe this is why Lent suggests sacrifice) that I am weak, barely capable of ignoring the Girl Scout cookies in my freezer. I am in desperate need of a Savior who can identify with my weaknesses and rescue me from them.

How is your journey through this season of Lent going? Any tips for me as I continue to let go of sugar? Feel free to leave a comment or include a link to your own blog post about Lent. I’d love to read what you have to say about these 40 days.

goodbye, sugar.

 {photo by 365 Days of Breakfast, via Mary Ruffle}

Today is the day.

I've been slowly trying to wean myself off of sugar so today wouldn't come as too much of a shock. I've yet to discover if that was at all helpful. Instead, I'm focusing on taking this project one week at a time. Forty days doesn't sound like a lot (at least to my ears), but when I realized Lent coincided with March Madness, well, I started to panic a little. Easter feels very, very far away, but remember: I am determined. And I have lots of people to hold me accountable. So here we go.

This past weekend I spent a lot of time at the library and online, trying to find information about what exactly "giving up sugar" really means. Here's what I decided it means for me.

Over the next 40 days, I will be eliminating the following from my diet completely:
- sodas and juices
- sweets (meaning processed desserts, cookies, etc.)
- white bread (sadly, I am a white bread eater. So this will have to go.)
- breakfast bars and cereal
- frozen meals
- most salad dressings (though I may attempt to make my own)
- most pre-packaged items
- fast food

And here are some things I will try to eliminate, but will not panic about if they slip in on occasion:
- potatoes
- corn
- white rice
- carrots

I plan to eat three meals a day, as well as two snacks, in order to make sure I'm not losing weight and am still eating healthily. Natural whole foods, like vegetables and fruits, are at the top of my list of things to eat large quantities of. I'll also be experimenting some with smoothie-making and with some dessert recipes found in the Babycakes cookbook I picked up from the library.

For those who are curious or who are joining in the Lenten journey, here are some helpful resources on giving up sugar:
- Goop newsletter
- Sugar Busters
- Cutting Refined Sugar from Your Child's Diet
- How to Eliminate Sugar from Your Diet

I'll try to blog my progress each week, probably on Wednesdays. That way the blog doesn't become overrun with talk of refined sugars and gluten-free dessert recipes. Please remember, too, that I am not a nutrition expert, so I'm learning as I go. Overall, though, I think my plan is fairly common sensical: Eat less processed foods and more fruit and vegetables.

If you're also going sugar-free -- or giving up anything else you love and enjoy -- I'd love to hear about it. Feel free to blog your own thoughts or comment here.

---

Come, let us bow down, and bend the knee, and kneel before the Lord Our Maker. For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Oh, that today you would hearken to his voice!

- Psalm 95:6-7

evaluating.

{from here}

Every year, I try to give something up for Lent. One year, it was Coke. For the past couple of years, it's been Facebook. This year, I'm thinking of trying a couple of different things, and I'd like your thoughts.

Originally, I was going to -- again -- give up Facebook for 40 days, this time deactivating my account so I won't receive updates via email. I am still going to deactivate, but not for Lent. In fact, today is my last day as a member of the Facebook generation (for now. I hate to say forever lest someone immediately identify me as a hypocrite should I rejoin the ranks later). I've enjoyed sharing pictures and keeping up with friends, but the truth is, this space has become far more rewarding. Facebook often leaves me with feelings of inadequacy, guilt, even anger. But through blogging, I've developed relationships, improved my writing, received encouragement and feedback and constructive criticism... I just prefer blogging. In truth, of course, both can be time-sucks, so I'm giving up one, and it's Facebook.

For Lent, though, I wanted to do something different and a little bit more sacrificial, something I really loved. As a result, I'm contemplating the consequences of giving up sugar. Now, let me quickly clarify: I am not trying to lose weight. Nope. That's not what this is about; I'm a pretty petite person, and I have no desire to become even more so. Instead, this is about overall health. My face is a disaster zone. I am worn out and exhausted at the end of the day. I get the occasional headache. I am grouchier than normal and can be short with those I love. Although I have an idea of a couple of other causes, I've done enough reading to realize that I may not be putting the best things into my body. At 25, I figure it's probably time to start paying closer attention, and what better time to start than with 40 days of sacrifice breathing down my neck? Sugar is the first step, though I've been trying to read up on a couple of 30-day cleanses to see if those might be options worth considering. (A raw food diet seems to be popular, but maybe out of my league. Thoughts?)

In addition, last year I read an article or heard a sermon -- I don't know where -- about how Lent is not just about giving things up: It's about replacing with good. Forgive me in advance if this seems silly to you -- the Lenten tradition is a newer one for me and for Jordan -- but those thoughts led me to the realization that I'd like to spend the 40 days of Lent giving back. Last April, our book club read 29 Gifts, and it inspired me to embark on my own 29 days of giving. I loved the lessons I learned from opening up my eyes and pocketbook to needs around me, so I've decided: why not up the ante? While I'm have major withdrawals from leaving sugar in the dust, why not focus on the needs and wants of others. If nothing else, it will distract me from the Coke Jordan will inevitably be drinking.

Basically, I'll be doing 40 days of fasting and 40 days of giving.

Here's where I'd like your advice. Have you ever done any type of cleanse? Was it difficult? What were the results? Have you ever given up sugar? What were some of your favorite meals? Do you have any resources you'd recommend for embarking on something like this?

And finally, the big question: Who wants to join me?

Lent begins March 9, so you've got some time to think about it. And I'm not asking you to give up sugar. (Although, wouldn't it be fun and inspiring to do it together?) I'm just suggesting that some outside moral support might be beneficial while I live a life without Coke and you live a life without... well, whatever you think you should be living without. (Coke is just my own personal weakness, see?) We could all blog our progress; wouldn't that be fun?

Anyway, really, I'm dying to know: Is giving up sugar really that hard? And are there really health benefits to avoiding it? Is there truth to this raw foods concept?

Meat and cookie lovers want to know.

(P.S.~ I may or may not have been inspired by this.)

cooking with jamie + jordan: week two.

 {leek and potato soup: not my photo. jamie's.}

That's right. Week Two.

I realize it's February, but with the multiple vacations and the infamous stomach flu, I just didn't have a lot of time to devote to my kitchen. No worries, though. Jamie and I are still tight. I haven't given up on my resolution yet.

night one: quick salmon tikka with cucumber yogurt
Okay, I love seafood. Love it. And I hear it's really good for you, so that's a plus. My dad used to cook fish all the time when I was living at home, but here is what I forgot to note: He always did it outside, on the grill. Jamie's recipe calls for cooking salmon on the stovetop. Unfortunately, Jamie doesn't tell you how to get the smell of fish out of your house. It stayed for days. Days. I thought I was going to be sick. I love seafood, but I do not want my house to smell like it. The bummer is that this recipe was fantastic! Super easy and quick. But I went to book club smelling like fish and with curry paste in my hair. So I'm just not sure this is going to become a regular on the Jones' menu circuit.

night two: baked camembert pasta
Note: We had to go to the local organic food store to find Camembert cheese (which, by the way, is pronounced sans "t"... just in case you were wondering). It was a little pricey, but buy one get one free, so we took the plunge. This recipe was pretty good, but I just felt like it was missing something. Like meat. I could not ever be a vegetarian. The whole time I was eating the pasta, I kept telling Jordan: "Chicken! This needs chicken! Or bacon!" Jordan really liked it, and it was -- again -- quick and easy to make. I like this Jamie guy. Even these complicated-sounding recipes are actually really simple.

night three: leek and potato soup
Thanks to yet another cold snap (in Florida!), soup was on the menu for last week. I had no idea what leeks were, but we bought them, and cooked with them, and I'm not about to do a Google search to find out exactly what they are. Ignorance is bliss. This took a little bit of prep (chopping all the veggies took some time), and my sous chef accidentally added beef broth to the chicken broth, causing a minor catastrophe, but the end result was really good. I added Parmesan cheese and bacon to the top, and they were a great addition. (I'm telling you, I have a meat problem.) The whole thing was really healthy, too. The recipe did make a ton of soup, so we've been eating on the leftovers for a few days, but I was really happy with the way this turned out. I'll be making it again.

{Check here for week one.}

new orleans: where we stayed + what we ate.

 {our cotton anniversary, new orleans}

Jordan and I got married in November, but we've yet to actually celebrate our anniversary in that month. We're both pretty low maintenance and willing to celebrate anything at any time, so when Jordan had the opportunity to attend the national championship game in Glendale, who was I to stand in his way? We'd already waited until January; what was one more week?

So finally, last week, we celebrated our second wedding anniversary by traipsing through New Orleans.

Before I go into where we went and, more importantly, what we ate, I must confess: New Orleans is not my favorite. I know, I know. The jazz! The food! The party-all-the-time atmosphere! What's not to love?

Well, for one, the mimes.

That's right. I was 8 years old the first time I visited New Orleans, and all I can remember about the trip was this persistent street performer who would not. leave. me. alone.

I was an imaginative, quiet child, and it was terrifying.

My fear of mimes (and clowns. and statues. and bizarre street people painted silver to look like statues) remains, but luckily, New Orleans isn't quite so scary the second time around.

And since I use blogs for all kinds of information gathering, I thought I'd provide you with this, my little guide to New Orleans, in case, like me, you're planning a trip for Jazz Fest 2011. (Robert Plant? Mumford and Sons? The Avett Brothers? Um, yes, please.)

{The Rathbone}

Where we stayed: The Rathbone Inn. When you're driving into town at night, the place is not appealing. (Read: Not too far from very scary things.) I'm a pretty brave traveler, but I wasn't impressed. We wound up sticking it out, and in the daylight, the place isn't that bad. I'll just say this: You get what you pay for, and we didn't pay much.

What we ate: Food is my favorite. When it comes to our anniversary trips, Jordan does the planning, but the food? Oh, the food I help pick. Here's a listing:

{at Lambert's}

- Saturday lunch, Lambert's, Foley, Alabama. Okay, Jordan talked more about the "home of the throwed rolls" than the actual trip to New Orleans. He's been dying to take me forever, and he was so excited. We got there, and... Let's just say you go to Lambert's to laugh at the throwing of bread. Not to eat good food. (Although, this is Foley, Alabama, so people watching is at a premium.) I love my husband, but poor Lambert's left a lot to be desired. Maybe if you're with little kids, it's more fun? 

- Saturday dinner, Lola's, 3312 Esplanade Ave. This was my favorite eating experience of our entire stay. It's off the beaten path of the French Quarter, but we stayed on Esplanade Avenue, just a few blocks from this tiny restaurant, so location didn't matter to us (and even if it's a drive, I'd still tell you: Go). They don't have a website (the best places don't), but their atmosphere and their food is amazing. It has a really European feel to it, and there's often a line out the door. I had some kind of shrimp something (how helpful, I know), but it's not a seafood place, so if you're not a seafood fan, still give it a shot. (Frommer's describes it as Spanish/International. Whatever it is, it's good.)

- Sunday lunch, The Gumbo Shop, 630 St. Peter St. The Gumbo Shop was a recommendation from someone we met at church, and since locals seem to know where the good food is, we happily took his recommendation. I had the jambalaya, which was delicious, and the service was excellent. This is definitely a tourist favorite, probably due to its location in the heart of the French Quarter.

- Sunday dinner, Cafe Nonna Mia, 3125 Esplanade Ave. Jordan was craving a pizza (isn't he always?), so we found this spot right across from Lola's. The pizza reminded me of Italy, light and fresh. I wouldn't necessarily call this New Orleans-esque, but if you're looking for good pizza, I'd say this hit the spot. The gelato was good too.

{at Cafe Du Monde}

- Monday breakfast, Cafe Du Monde, 1039 Decatur St. Okay, okay. You already know to go here, but I promise, this isn't just a tourist trap. The beignets are delicious (I can't speak for the coffee, but the orange juice was good), and the people watching is top-notch. Plus, street performers often put on a show outside, and who doesn't like a free show?

- Monday lunch, Parkway Bakery and Tavern, 538 Hagan Ave. Another "off-the-beaten-path" locale (my dad would be proud), this place supposedly serves the best po'boy in town. I'm certainly not some po'boy connoisseur, so I'll just have to take their word for it. I ordered the roast beef, and Jordan had the barbecue. We'd give both As, and the atmosphere was really fun too. (And they were really busy for a Monday, which is always a good sign.)

- Monday dinner, Mandina's Restaurant, 3800 Canal St. I don't mind waiting for my food, especially if it's good, and our guidebook assured us this would be good. But we waited for about an hour -- standing room only! -- and I thought the food was only okay. Maybe this was a bad night, or maybe I was disappointed in our cute old man waiter who essentially told me that whether I ordered fried catfish or fried shrimp, it would all taste the same (I ordered the catfish), but I just wasn't all that impressed. It was seriously packed, though, so maybe it was just what I ordered. Jordan liked his red beans and rice, and I certainly wouldn't say this place was terrible! I'd recommend it, though maybe go more in the middle of the week (and before 7).

{Camellia Grill}

- Tuesday lunch, Camellia Grill, 626 S. Carrollton Ave. This was my other favorite dining experience of the trip. You really have to go! The Camellia Grill is essentially an old-fashioned diner, but the food is phenomenal, and the service is excellent. You're seated around the cooks and servers, so it's just a fun atmosphere. I love me a good patty melt, and this one... Mmmmm. Perfection. Jordan's burger was -- in his words -- amazing. One of the best burgers he's ever had. Like I said, go. You won't be disappointed. (Side note: Apparently after Katrina, the Camellia Grill didn't reopen right away, and patrons left dozens upon dozens of post-it notes all over the restaurant doors, begging them to come back. It's easy to understand why, and I think New Orleans is very happy to have them back.)

- Tuesday dinner, Marigny Brasserie, 640 Frenchmen St. We really, really wanted to go to Cafe Degas for dinner, but alas... closed on Tuesdays! Weird, and a bummer. But a blogging buddy had recommended Marigny Brasserie, so there we went, and it was good! It wasn't crowded at all, even though we waited until a little bit later in the evening, when crowds down near the French Quarter are worse. The barbecue shrimp and grits was delicious (I promise... I don't just eat seafood!), and Jordan said the ravioli was excellent. It was a quiet, nice dinner, thought not as fancy as the website makes it look, so don't let that deter you. The food was good, and it was a nice way to round out the trip.

- Missed opportunities: Magnolia Grill, Cafe Degas, and The Bluebird Cafe.

{Stay tuned for new orleans: what we saw + what we bought}

cooking with jamie + jordan: week one.

{anthropologie apron courtesy of Jordan's grandma}

I am trying really hard this year to follow through not only on my resolutions, but on the attitude of celebration behind my resolutions. 

Last week, Jordan and I cooked three meals from Jamie Oliver's cookbook, and although the meals themselves were pretty delicious, it was the time together I most enjoyed. 

Jordan, I know, isn't necessarily comfortable in the kitchen. But I love his company, and cooking becomes fun with him by my side (and that's saying something, folks). So in these opening days of 2011, he has become my sous chef. He stirs, fetches things from the pantry, tells funny stories. And thus far, we've made it to the couch by 7:30 to watch Jeopardy together. 

Yep, I'm loving these days. And the meals aren't half bad either. 

night one: spicy moroccan stewed fish + couscous (pictured above)
This was pretty good, especially considering I'm not a huge couscous fan (meaning: I've never eaten it before in my life). I felt really healthy while eating this, and I felt accomplished tackling seafood, I think for the first time in our marriage. It feels fancy to eat fish not from a seafood restaurant -- and I love me some seafood. This week I only picked recipes from the 20-minute section of Food Revolution, and this one was spot-on: It took 15 minutes from start to finish, including clean-up. This one's getting an A.

night two: butterflied steak sarnie
This recipe is amazing. Once you get over the sticker shock (filet mignon is pricey, peeps!), you realize this meal is worth every. single. penny. And no question about it, I'm a meat lover. I mean, the couscous was great, but this steak? My mouth still waters just thinking about it. I was nervous since the recipe called for mushrooms, which Jordan and I don't typically eat, but in the spirit of a new year, I gave it my best shot. And what do you know? We liked 'em. This was another 20-minute recipe, but it tasted like it took forever. And I mean that in the best way possible. Definitely an A+ recipe, though the price of the steaks means we won't be having these every week.

night three: classic tomato spaghetti
Look, I just can't make three "fancy" meals in a row, no matter how easy they are. On Wednesdays, we are limited on time, and I am running out of steam. Mom's Wednesday night pizzas suddenly make a lot more sense. But, after a holiday filled with -- pardon my language -- crap to eat, the Joneses decided to forgo frozen pizzas and try a simple Jamie recipe: spaghetti. It actually didn't take all that long (10, 15 minutes), and the sauce is really good. I think maybe another can of tomatoes would have made it more like the Prego we're all used to, but all in all, not bad, especially for a rainy and rushed Wednesday night meal. (And way more healthy than Hungry Howie's.)

the joneses do passover.

Our church tradition doesn't typically pay much attention to Holy Week. I'm sad to admit that publicly, but what's true is true. Individually, though, and in my family, Easter -- and the events leading up to the remembrance of Christ's resurrection -- is a happily celebrated tradition. 

This year, Jordan and I decided we wanted to do more than dress in our Sunday best and dye eggs. I'd been reading a lot about the ancient Jewish traditions, how they can mean so much to our faith as Christ followers, and so we decided: We would eat a passover meal. Somehow, we managed to convince members of our family to join us (thank you for complying, Sherlocks!), and I began reading up on how to make the passover meal something we could celebrate together as believers. 

So I cooked lamb, baked my own matzo, and found this script for the evening online. 

As we sat around our table filled with bitter herbs and salt water, giggling every once and a while through the prayers, it hit me why this is so important, why this shouldn't be ignored.

This is what Jesus did. 

How can we fully grasp the communion or the Lord's Supper we take every Sunday until we fully understand the significance the Passover held for the Jews, for Jesus and His disciples?

That last night as Jesus sat talking and joking with His followers, enjoying one final tradition of their faith, they were remembering God's promise of deliverance. How on one dark night, God rescued them from their bondage. The food they ate was symbolic of their journey. The prayers they said, the wine they drank, the discussion they had... It had meaning, purpose. And because it held meaning for Christ, it should hold meaning for us.

The way the Passover meal and the communion meal weave together is absolutely beautiful. I don't think I fully realized that until tonight, as I sat communing with people I love, remembering that other fateful night, the night God rescued us from our own bondage through the power and blood of His perfect Son.

Sometimes I think faith is like a puzzle. There are crucial pieces we're missing. It's true, I think, that the Jews are missing the piece that is Christ, the Messiah who has already come once and is coming again. But there are pieces of my puzzle missing too. Pieces like this simple tradition, looked over sometimes by the Christian faith, but treasured by the one we call our King.

a word from the [worldly] wise

I traveled for work this week. Here's what I learned:

1. Look before you leap. If you find yourself at dinner with a large group of people and an unidentified food item—for the whole table to share! ‘cause now you’re best friends who eat the same thing!—watch and learn. Let someone else take a bit first, then follow their lead. Of course, if you’re the only female at the table with polite males, they’ll wait for you to go first. And you’ll wind up eating an entire artichoke leaf, chewy bite after chewy bite.*

2. Do your research. Awkward silences seem to abound on business trips, even with people you think you know well. To prevent having to insert your foot in your mouth, take a moment before catching your flight to Google your companions. It is 2009, after all. Had I participated in this little exercise prior to my departure, I would have known my travel buddy worked for the New York Times and the Washington Post. As a journalism major, this would have been good to know in advance. Luckily I rescued myself on day 2. But more on that later.

3. Stay true to your school. So, I attended a university named after a preacher. In southern Alabama. With 500 on-campus students. I doubt you had the same school experience, but I’m sure we all can agree: others’ alma maters can be intimidating (because let’s face it: in the working world, people throw around their credentials like a MLB pitcher). So milk your own experiences for all they’re worth. My story can easily sound impressive: “I attended a small private university not far from Birmingham, Alabama” sounds a lot better than “I attended a Christian school the size of a pinhead in a place known as The Gump.” I’m not saying lie, but don’t belittle your place of study or your life experience. It just makes you look dumb for choosing it/them in the first place.

4. Get over yourself. So, let’s say you go out of town for work and make a fool of yourself. Oh well. Do what I do, and move on. Chances are, you aren’t nearly as memorable as you think. (P.S.~ This advice is really the best ever. It's the following it that's tricky. We all tend to think we're more important than we really are.)

5. Make up your mind. So, I may have mentioned before, but I don’t drink anything of the alcoholic variety. For personal moral reasons, yes, but I also just don’t like the stuff. I’ve had a sip or two of wine, and I thought I might throw up. I’m sure it’s an acquired taste, but I don’t want to make the effort to acquire it. (I don’t drink coffee either.) Anyway, the point is that while “just say no [thank you]” may have worked while I was growing up, the phrase has no place in the working world. People just don’t get it. You’d think asking for water when everyone else asks for an alcoholic beverage would be hint enough for people. But no. Peer pressure is alive and well at 23. Better to decide before you travel with the office when you plan to stand your ground.

6. Be proud of your poverty. No, I don’t get email on my phone. Sorry, I don’t have a Blackberry or iPhone. No, I didn’t travel with my personal laptop. It weighs 20 pounds and I share it with my husband. Did I mention he’s in law school? I know I work in design, but I just can’t afford a MacBook right now. Yes, I’m afraid the battery is running low on my flip phone so I may not answer every one of your 20 calls. No, I don’t have two cell phones. How many ways do I have to spell it out for you? I am poor right now. Not by African standards, but by American high-power executive standards, I am living the low-life. Well, I’m dealing and you should too. It’s a recession, people. May all the entry-level employees of the world unite (if you’re underappreciated middle-to-upper management, you can join in). Be proud of the fact that you only have one cell phone circa 2002. Celebrate the joys that come with an ancient laptop or desktop computer (it’s like a free weightlifting class!). Don’t be insecure. Embrace your way of life. You’re probably happier than they are anyway.

7. Network, schmetwork. All while I was interning (at a magazine company that has since seen its demise), I heard one word: network. “It’s what will help you survive this industry!” (How’s that working for you, part-time editor/freelance writer with no health benefits?) Now, it’s true that you should get your name out there, meet people. (Remember, I’m printing my own business cards.) But I’m also learning that sometimes, the truly best I can do is… do my job. I’ve discovered that networking is exhausting. Instead, use your friends to help you broadcast your skills. And when I say friends, I really mean friends. Not the fake friends you have from networking.

8. Keep your ears/eyes open and your mouth closed. Don’t pretend to be an expert at something you’re not—even if you’re trying to network (which, as I’ve already mentioned, often proves to be fruitless anyway). Do your own job to the best of your ability, and observe what’s going on around you. In the grand scheme, I think you learn more that way—and probably are more impressive to people. Let’s face it, there aren’t very many people in this world who can keep their mouths shut.

That’s all I’ve got. Eight little tips from a girl trying to scrape by in the working world. Now, do you have any tips to share? One working girl to another?

*How was I supposed to know this was a vegetable you scraped with your teeth? In my house, we ate our vegetables in their entirety. For tips on how to eat an artichoke and not look like an idiot, check this helpful article out (complete with photos!).