A Jetlagged Christmas.

The flight home was brutal. I hit Bangkok's airport around 3:00 AM, waited for my 9:00 flight to Singapore and bid a hasty "goodbye and I'll see you in Utah" to my sister and friends. I slept hard on the flight over and made the long trek from the airport to my Singapore home — I'd forgotten enough Sing. cash to call a cab, hence the longer trek via public transport from the apartment. I had barely 24 hours in Singapore before I'd be back at the Changi airport but I tried not to think about that. There was zero food in the apartment, so I ran down to the corner store in my unshowered state to get some dinner ingredients (and some plane food for tomorrow) — I was ravenous and should have bought more Pringles. After a looooong shower and a scattered dinner I went to bed. Early. Oh, and I completely crashed that night — sleeping so hard I snoozed straight through my alarm but did wake up in time to make my flight, don't worry...but I had the beginnings of a sore throat. You know that swollen burning you hope goes away by morning but doesn't? It persisted all the way through the Guangzhou airport, the 5 hour layover and through the longer 14 hour flight to LAX; I hadn't gotten much sleep and had that annoying breathy cough you can't shake (and a peppermint hot cocoa can't even soothe?) when I landed.  I spent my whole string of flights sucking hard caramels and wishing the time away before freezing on the platform once I made it to Utah; Temperature wise, I was in SLC, that's for sure.

The Christmas break didn't exactly go as planned: week one was basically spent hacking, trying to swallow copious amounts of tea and binge watching Christmas movies while trying to battle jet lag. Week 2 was better: a magical snow came Christmas Eve and the holidays were lovely, spent with family, twinkling Christmas lights, and lots of foods I'd missed while in Asia. The sisters and I got more than a few thrift shopping runs in (complete with a score of Ikea plates and a rad plaid) and there was lots of get togethers with good friends. Cheese plates, and cakes, and lots of Mexican food with excellent conversation. That's one of the "behind the scenes" aspects of this passport stamped life: I dislike the stress of being home for just a scant number of days, running from appointments and calendared lunch dates. I crave that normalcy of being able to just reschedule for next week instead of penciling in friends in my calendar- who does that? Oh, but I digress. It went all too quickly and I soon found myself repacking my carry on (it was mostly food...but really. I crammed a box of cereal in instead of packing an extra outfit) and made the stormy drive for a very early flight from SLC to LAX. There was a horrendous 17 hour layover in LAX which included a frustrated yours truly when my bags couldn't be checked. Thank heavens for a family friend who lives in this sunny state who was willing to lug my luggage around in her car and take me out for some beach time and Greek food before taking me back so I could make my flight to Shanghai. 6 more hours on a plane and I'd landed back in Singapore. I can't wait to get an avocado shake.

Phichit's Pad Thai

I'll spare you the agony of explaining every single moment that happened the week I spent in Phichit, Thailand, but I'm showing no mercy when it comes to the Pad Thai. You've been warned. 

The girls and I bid goodbye to the island of Koh Chang (aka, dreamy paradise land) and boarded the bus to Bangkok which would drive through the night and drop us all off where my sister had called home for the past 4 month; the itty bitty town of Phichit. It didn't look like much around 3 AM but the sunrise quickly brought me to my senses. Consensus? It's adorable. Day one was spent recuperating from my travels while the girls taught - but of course I bolted upstairs to see a classroom of cuties during their "milk bread" the second I got the text. Um...imagine dozens of little Thai kids just hanging out, drinking cartons of milk. Dy....ing. It was so adorable. After class was over, it was really time to crack down and see the highlight reel of Phichit. The girls would all be leaving for America at the end of the week and needed to hit their favorite spots just one more time and we had a lot of cram in. I was only so happy to agree. 

So that's what happened that week. I wandered around the grassy grounds of the school, peeking into banana laden wheelbarrows while the girls taught, then we would snag the rusty bikes parked under the trees and wave at all the locals as we rode into town, determined to eat as much food as possible. We stopped at roadside stands and slurped up "yellow noodles", finishing them off with scoops of ice cream before shopping for dozens and dozens of socks (my favorite pair I purchased is adorned with dragonfruits. I adore dragonfruits). There were several 7-11 runs made (purchasing 5 Baht candies, these ice cream cones I was infatuated with in China and to snag bottles of chocolate milk and containers of the microwaveable lava cake. Sevey is life). Restaurants serving plates of cashew chicken and lemon chicken encircled by fried kale were devoured. We peeked into shops and stalls, searched through flea markets and wandered our way through vendors selling piles of old sweat shirts, mingled with stalls laden with fried bananas, next to creaking tables piled high with mysterious to me soups sold in bags. I love it here. 

The bike ride into town was both cute and a bit rough in the heat, though I'm told December is the nicest month to visit Thailand - we whizzed past the little roundabout, chatting about life in Thailand while pointing out favorite haunts while locals shouted out "hellos". Just cute, cute, cute. The real obsession though for me was the cocoa and the Pad Thai. And the roti. And just all the food in Thailand, but I digress. I'd heard about the magic of cocoa from Laura for months and was just itching to get my hands on a bag of the stuff. I drank my weight of that stuff in a very short amount of time. Embarrassing? Nope. I even made the mistake/excellent life choice to start the day off with both a bag of cocoa AND a bag of Thai tea. It must have amounted to about a full can and a half worth of sweetened condensed milk and I downed both.  Ah...and I digress again  Onto cocoa: It's rich - a velvety chocolate that's bitter and biting, mellowed out by the silky and sweet condensed milk that is stacked in pyramids at every reputable establishment. There's a splash of evaporated milk too that adds a creaminess, all poured over ice. It's yummmm. 

And to make things even better, the best cocoa place is right across the street from *the best* Pad Thai in Thailand. I didn't even need to take a bite before falling in love. Someday I'll speak as fondly about a person than I do about this Pad Thai. Possibly.

 It's the classic Asian situation where rickety plastic chairs surround rickety plastic tables and you walk in, and the cute lady at the wok just smiles and nods before cracking eggs expertly into the fired steel rim. Rice noodles are tossed in along with a range of other ingredients, all quickly stirred together into a steaming mass and divided up onto plates. Top liberally with crunchy and fresh bean sprouts, douse in a squeeze of lime and sprinkle with crushed peanuts. Unreal. Wash it down with a chilled Thai Tea and be sad that nothing else you could ever purchase or make will be as good as the Pad Thai here. Needless to say, we went many times before hitting up the 7-11 on the way home again, before stopping off to get roti. 

Trust me, there was more things going on besides eating...but not much.  The girls and I would stay up late in the evenings, talking and laughing and attempting to put off the inevitable task of packing. Oh and the kidsssssssss. I loved them oh so much after only one week and watching the teachers say goodbye only brought memories of the sob-fest which happened after a semester in China.  But who wants to read about that? (If you do, check out this post and get tissues) but we are all here to hear about more food. So onto the roti. Again, a favorite I'd been hearing about and I wasn't shy about ordering. Round 1 and I got 4 of these beauties and ate myself sick. It's a thin dough, slapped and rounded out till paper thin before sizzling in a liberal pool of bubbling fat on a flattop — the start of something good. The edges get folded in, crisping up in the fat before it is flipped and drizzled liberally with sweetened and condensed milk. Fold up in a wrapper that starts to bleed a lovely oil sheen before you can even get your hands on it, then take a bite. It's crunchy, sweet, toasty warm and leaves a lip-gloss shine behind and I obviously was too infatuated to take  a proper picture of it. Oh well. 

It's a good thing there was a lot of biking involved this week, because there sure was a lot of eating. 

Scoot-Scoot Sisters in Thailand.

You know you are living life right when you change into a still salty swimsuit before even meandering down to breakfast. A wooden table perched on the upper deck of a small neighboring restaurant provided a glimpse of the sea (and limitless cocoa and pineapple) which was fine in my book. After breakfast, I caught Clem by the pool, who had rented a scooter to find a bungalow where she could spend the rest of her week in Koh Chang. We said our goodbyes and promised visits if we were in each other's neighborhoods. I'd love to visit Spain and let Clem know I'd send her a message if I was in her neck of the woods. 9:00 AM seemed the ideal time to park it on the sugar sand and meet some hermit crab friends before Laura and her other teachers would be arriving. I poked around at the little bistro type restaurants that stretched across on side of the beach and opted to camp out in the opposite and commercially abandoned side of the beach, by a little islet that was cut by a deep channel before the ocean shallowed out on a sandbar. It was gorgeous which was good, because I was dying for Laura and her little entourage to finally get here. 

I got antsy and decided to wait by the hostel's pool and before I knew it, there they were! Aw, sisters in Thailand. The girls got all checked in and I gave them the grand tour; Adorable hostel, cute pool, rad music playing, shaded 1 minute waltz to the beach, then paradise itself. They were tickled. And on the calendar? Nothing but sun and sand. We all made camp at the deserted side of the beach where we collected sand dollars galore and McKenzie and Kelsi (Laura's little group of 3 she's been partial to since Day 1 of teaching) filled me in on who was who. It was a delight to put a face to the names I've been reading/hearing about for the past semester. 

You can only take so much sun before rinsing off and keeping your salt swirled curls while you search for dinner; and we were in luck. The 7-11 (a favorite haunt) had the cutest little kabob lady right there which you just can't say no to. Royally purple cabbage, crisp cucumber and pops of orange carrot kept things fresh, a spicy sauce mellowed out by a creamy mayo smoothed over the crunchy ends of the shaved spit of chicken all wrapped in a blistered tortilla type wrapper. Addicted to Thailand's Kabobs at first bite.

We wouldn't dream of missing the sunset so it was back to the beach before getting dinner (more curry please!) at our breakfast place and staying up late (poolside of course) that evening before planning on Sunday's itinerary: scooters.  

Pinapple, toast, cocoa, noodles and repeat was breakfast before hopping 2 to a scooter ($3 each) for the whole day. Zoom, zoom and Laura and I were off, zipping passed roadside signs, brightly colored in Thai, down steep (crazy steep) and windy jungle roads, blitzing past 7-11's and a Chinese Temple. The wind that whipped our hair drowned out our conversation, meaning I could really catch up on who was who. We all stopped to fill up on water and ice creams at Sevey before finding another good beach. We turned down narrow roads to find a red sand beach which was good, but we were looking out for something...something else. When peeking down a sharp dip down (which was actually a road) a man in a truck pulled us over and said "If you have fear, do not go. But it is a beautiful beach." That was our something else. Leaning back and heavily on the brakes, Laura and I made our treacherous way down a pothole riddled road that spilled out into a pool of asphalt, creating a break in the jungle. Then, a little path opened up to my favorite beach to day. 

Koh Chang's white sand beach is just everything you wanted. Fringed with dense greenery, glittering waters seamlessly melted into truly sugar sandy shores. We all bought tons of these elephant printed tapestries to nap on before venturing out to find lunch. Hopping on scooters let us find a noodle house (Pad See Ew, always) right next to passionfruit and mango smoothies for around $1.50. Have I already mentioned how perfect this day has been so far? We ventured into a bayou-like Lagoon before going to our beach for the sunset..then off to more food.  A long scoot back to the food street let us walk down while drooling and wanting to taste all the things. 

Smoky stalls swirling woks full of thick noodles and oyster sauced vegetables, kabobs studded thick with chicken and vegetables, quail eggs carefully cracked and skewered, noodles swimming in a soup  — sold in bags, mind you...oh, and ice cream. We fell in love with this lady who made massive amounts of Pad Thai for around $1 and we made short work of it and got more smoothies on our walk back, of course. Next up was shopping; discovering last minute trinkets the teachers were collected before going back home. After things stated closing down, me, Laura and Kenzie piled on one scooter (Asian Style) and I held on by my legs, laughing the whole scoot home which didn't stop once we got to the pool to talk and laugh some more. Not bad, Thailand. Not bad at all.

The Ugly Dumpling

I've had my eye on making dumplings for a quite some time. The whole process seems rather therapeutic; rolling out thin rounds of dough, spooning a tiny amount of filling inside and artistically folding each little half tightly before tucking it atop a floured sheet and under a damp towel...Not to mention the indisputable fact that potstickers are delicious and I'm a staunch believer in gastronomy therapy. This whole week had me hankering for dumplings of some kind,  so Saturday seemed the ideal time to test out my wrapper folding skills. Though I've seen the wonton wrappers in the grocery store and knew it would streamline my afternoon in the kitchen, there's something about making a meal completely from scratch. Yes, you could buy the frosting to schmear atop your cake, but it kind of feels like cheating once you've put in the effort to make the majority  of the edibles all by yourself. 

For potstickers, the ingredients are simple enough; basic elements mixed together to create something that is from it's foundation delicious. Salt, water, and flour was all the dough needed, in addition from a few minutes of kneading. Hands removed of ring and watch stirred flour from a knobby mixture into a smooth dough that tightened up quite nicely into a firm and solid ball. Ground chicken, loads scallions, spicy grated ginger root and a few other ingredients made up the filling and that's really all there was to it. 

Almost. 

The painstaking process of making these dumplings should have been thought out more thoroughly. A late breakfast Saturday had me skipping lunch and arriving home ready to tuck into a heaping pile of the crunchy yet juicy little dumplings. Although I did get my reward, it wasn't until I had rolled out dozens of evenly round circles of dough, spooned tiny bits of filling inside before folding the dough over and haphazardly 'perfecting' the crimping fold. A tray full of mostly proportional sized dumplings gently floured just waiting to meet their tasty demise meant we were getting closer, but weren't quite there yet. 

Then came the boiling and the frying and the agonizing wait until the entire batch had been rolled, filled, folded, boiled, and fried. Then, and only then, was it was time to eat. Albeit a little uneven and a tad bit ugly, were delicious. 

Autumnal.

It's an under-utilized word, autumnal. Somehow able to capture that warm afternoon while simultaneously hinting at a chilly evening,  a single word is both all spiced with cinnamon and wrapped in a knit sweater. Exaggerating, I am not.  Maybe I'm prejudiced, but it's factual that fall is the best season. 

How could it not be? Complete with rich oranges, pureed root vegetable soups, and frothy chai, the food alone in this season takes the cake (cardamom and apple studded cake, that is). 31 days of haunting Halloween films, 2 birthday celebrations in the Cummings family, and roadside stands of Honeycrisp apples, striped squash and hayrides makes October very difficult to beat. 

Twenty three was a quiet affair, the 5th being tucked after sessions of Conference, and landing on a Monday. Family celebrations happen on the 4th, with a little shopping and a celebratory lunch with pops before the work day began. Such a grown up birthday, needing to go into work....though the flowers at the desk did help a tad. Wednesday was a social affair, with a hand picked guest list of those who would most appreciate sipping drinking cocoa out of tiny glass teacups and cooling everything down with pumpkin spice popsicles...I told you all there would be popsicles when summer time officially ended. 

While 22 was spend running around the Hagia Sophia, no matter where you are in the world, being home for the holidays or for birthdays is exactly where you'd like to be.

A Glut of Peaches

Cobbled, sliced, pie'd, pureed, crisped, jarred, crumbled, grilled, ice creamed, and caked; these peaches have been everywhere. It's a cruel trick of summertime. All season I bide my time just watching these orangey red beauties get bigger and bigger until all 400 of them need to be picked in a 3 day span. I take a taste of the Early Alberta's at the farmer's markets, but I know that I have my own glut of peaches that will be ready in just a few weeks. Hundreds of peaches slowly weigh down the branches so much it makes walking on the sidewalk difficult until they start to drop off the branches themselves. Then, it's time to pick. Peaches are best picked in the late evening, just as the sun sets and you can sit down on the grass and eat the biggest peach you found that night..still warm from the August sun. Juice drips down your face and off your elbow and your surrounded with boxes and boxes and boxes of peaches.

They are handed out to neighbors and mailmen, carried to coworkers, and pawned off to anyone who will take them. 400 peaches are a bit much for 3 people to eat, no matter how many peach pie recipes there are. Then, they are carefully counted (to compare with last year's crop) and the peach production begins.

I can only eat so many peaches right off the tree, so several dozen are carefully sliced into mason jars to be eaten in the far away months. Others are sliced thin and dehydrated, frozen for smoothies, or pureed into fruit leather. The others meet there end in some sort of breakfast, lunch and/or dinner option. Delicious when sliced in a bowl swirled with a little cream, or nestled in a crumbly oat topping, two by two the peaches started to disappear. Peach crumble, peach cobbler, and peach cake each took and few out of the boxes piled up in the garage until only a few dozen remained.

I'm a sucker for early morning light and peaches nestled in flour and sugar (but who isn't?)

And just like that, the peaches are gone. The trees are bare, with leaves that won't be green for all that long. It's an official end to summer. The nights have gotten a bit cooler and the last few peaches are stashed as a fleeting souvenir to the days in the sun. Fall and winter will come, spring will hint at the upcoming peach season with pinky white blossoms and the wait resumes; tiny green pods will slowly grow bigger and bigger, slowly turning orange and blush red, and the branches will slowly droop, until it's time to do it all over again.

A Little Tart

Have I mentioned my love of food puns? This might be the first on the blog, but a few minutes in a grocery store will get the "pun times" rolling. Lame introductory paragraph aside, this weekend was a little bittersweet, but ended with a little tart...quite literally. A week up in Park City with the family was the sweet part; days at the pool, adventuring in the Olympic Park, enjoying a scrumptious Italian dinner, and a float down Provo River proves that point. Though we'd all love Sister C. to be there, she decided to be in England for the past year and for the next six months. I don't really feel that badly, but it was a bit bitter because we had to celebrate her birthday without her the day after our Park City escapades had ended. Psh, not only did she miss the family vacation, she missed her birthday! Not really, we sent the party to her. Bless the people in England who are willing to not only have her over for cake, but make her a classic British dinner, and show her the little film of her friends and family wishing her a happy birthday. England did treat her right, though I'd rather have her in America.

The second dose of bitter was sending sister L. off to college. Though I'm not entirely convinced she's old enough to be in at a university, I suppose that's what happens to smart girls after high school. Perhaps to console myself (or my mom, it's a toss up really), a little fruit tart seemed to be in order. Though it's kinda cute to send photos of the cat as my new roommate to the sister down at school, the reality of the cat actually being my roommate is a touch disheartening.

This is just a preview to the long awaited peach season. I can't wait. 

Because breakfast should be delicious and pretty...and basically dessert

Though the fruit mosaic atop buttery shortbread didn't quite alter that reality, it didn't make anything worse. It does make me sad to see my little sister grow up, I am jubilantly envious she'll be staying up late, eating too many Oreos, and making friends she'll keep through the years. I like flipping back in my journal/sketchbook to reminisce a little bit...though college barely ended, it seems like another chapter of my life (and provides a good reminder that I was still a little foodie, even when on a college budget).

Can I Have S'More?

A little (personal) history lesson is required before this post is read. The M & M twins are the hooligans I grew up with. Though I had blond blond blond hair as a kid, we tried to convince strangers we were triplets. Obviously M & M were twins, but I'm sure my blond hair was a dead giveaway, but that didn't stop us from our façade. Triplets or not, our collective childhood was spent in the outdoors, whether that be out in the neighborhood on bike rides or weekend camping trips with our families. Though we were happy to explore the neighborhood creek and golf course, camping was much more adventurous (plus, there was fire).

This week was a slice of nostalgic childhood, as sister L and I joined the twins' family for their family reunion campout. Their family is basically my family, so it was peachy to see my pseudo aunts and uncles again. It had been a while.

Though we had packed a tent, it's more fun when you sleep outside under an inky blanket of stars. Softball, volleyball, s'mores, and full on swims in freezing snow-run off were some highlights of the long weekend, which made the trip perfect. Somehow, food always taste better when you are camping, and when you are sitting at home you wouldn't even consider dipping your toes into water that cold, but that inhibition somehow that dissolves when you are out.

Don't be deceived: this water is very pretty, but is freezing cold. That didn't stop anyone from finding a spot deep enough to prove that you too could submerge yourself in icy run-off.


It's nice to unplug and be away from it all, with nothing to distract you from being with people you grew up with....except maybe having another s'more or two.

Apricots and America (but mostly butter)

Happy Fourth of July and stuff, America. For the C. family, that means a couple days of good ol' American tradition; BBQ's, parades, fireworks, and sweltering in the heat of July. It's all good fun. Because all us working people had the 3rd off, 2015's celebrations included a heavy dose of nostalgia as we made the trip up to Brigham City for a day at the pool...just like old times. I went there all the time as a kid, so coming back some 14 years later was a flashback straight out of my childhood.

 We left the pool late, snagged some great fried chicken at Maddox, and stopped off at one of the many fruit stands that dot the highway. If that isn't an American afternoon, I don't know what is.

I love those roadside fruit stands. There's something about purchasing fruit that's a little blemished, piled in well worn baskets, right next to the orchard. I'm a big fan of grocery shopping (where else can you ogle at so much food?) but the pristine rows of fruit isn't as charming as the roadside markets and stands. Being early July, apricots are in full swing here, which meant baking something truly lovely for our firework picnic the next day.

Inspiration struck. Apricot & strawberry bars. Though they're not exactly bright red, white, or blue, somehow these bars were still very appropriate for the holiday. I riffed off a recipe for apricot bars I had found online, but added a couple twists. A little lemon zest to brighten up the shortbread, brown sugar instead of white for an extra caramelly taste, and a schmear of strawberry jam below the pitted fruit because that's what was in the fridge. (Sidenote: A few weekends ago, the C. family got gobs and gobs of strawberries and spent loads of time jam-ing and jar-ing, so adding strawberry jam to the slightly tart apricots was an obvious addition.)

Layer shortbread, jam, sliced apricots, and an oat crumble, and test your patience. You'll need to wait while the bars bake and through one agonizing cooling session. Ah, now your patience as been rewarded: Square, package, and tote to the park. Eat while enjoying the scent of bugspray and fireworks in the air, if at all possible.

The Eternal Taco Tuesday

I had a roommate in school that loves tacos. I say this in current tense because she will never stop loving tacos I also don't say this phrase lightly. She loves tacos. In fact, an often repeated roommate conversation was about how much we wished that the taco emoji was a thing, because that would be directly relevant in 77% of our conversations. (Sidenote: apparently the taco emoji has come to pass and will soon be available. Win.) This roomie is now in Texas having adventures without me, but more importantly, is now eating tacos with out me. As an attempt to keep our taco Tuesday (read: Wednesday, Thursday, twice on Friday) tradition alive, fish tacos were a must for this week's menu. I may not be in Texas, but I can make my own fish tacos. More importantly, sister L. was out of town this week which meant that fish tacos could rule the menu for the week. Seafood loving is out of her comfort zone, so I took full advantage of her being gone...both in the kitchen, and with her closet.

If I learned anything from a taco loving roommate, it was that all you needed was some really good sauce, corn tortillas, avocado and some sort of protein...bam, tacos. The college-ness of our tacos varied from missing somewhat crucial ingredients, but somehow "tacos" made with a meat and a few different kinds of salsas and verdes were pretty great at 12:30 AM. Especially when this roommate came back from visiting Texas and returned with carefully packaged jars of "That Green Stuff": it's spicy, slightly textured from some sort of blended pepper, green stuff. It was poured onto many a tacos, and also eggs. And roasted veggies.And pasta. And toast. That green stuff goes well on nearly anything.

I composed a non-college version this week: Blackened halibut, topped with lime crema and a cilantro/cabbage slaw rounded out for some dynamic flavors for this batch of tacos. I also recommend serving these with twice as much avocado as you think necessary, because avocados help make the world go round (basically). I seasoned the fish with cumin, paprika, quite a bit of cheyenne for kick and some garlic salt to mirror the garlicky vinegar I tossed the slaw with. Oh yeah, they were that good.

Taco Tuesday should be everyday.

I make my own Pad Thai

I consumed a ridiculous amount of Pad Thai in college. Just around the corner from my last apartment, there was an excellent Thai restaurant that my roommates and I frequented....frequently. We would run over to celebrate the important things in life, like birthdays, good test scores, and Tuesdays. Pad Thai was there for engagements, and break-ups, and cancelled television series. I love you, Pad Thai.

You would think that eating so much Thai food in college would eventually dampen my love of curries and mango sticky rice. Not so. I think my love of Thai food comes from not knowing such foods existed. Though mom is an excellent cook and dad is quite the foodie, I somehow missed out on dishes from regions other than Mexico, Italy, or France. Granted, this girl loves tacos and a good baguette, but I'm pretty confident could happily live off of dumplings and rice swaddled in spicy coconut sauces. My logic is basically this: because I didn't eat it growing up, I need to make up for lost time.  

This week signals a break through in my Pad Thai consumption. A co-worker shops at this Asian market in West Valley and you know that's we did on our lunch break on Thursday. I tried to not food-geek out too much, but just know I was unsuccessful. I might have slightly frightened my co-workers when I got exuberant over steamer baskets but they'll survive

I had my arms full of mung bean sprouts, rice noodles, kefir limes, and other Pad Thai essentials (plus about 5 of those amazing yellow mangoes) a store clerk handed me a basket while I mentally thought "Oh good, now I can buy even more things and look less ridiculous".

For some reason I thought we would just slip in and I would grab some cool aloe drink and call it a day, so I didn't bother with a cart or anything. I should have known I would have walked out with bags brimming and dying to run home to make Pad Thai (read: eat the entire recipe that should feed about 8 people).

I tackled making dinner that night, but regretted not getting ingredients for a double batch. I sautéed veggies in garlic and coconut oil, but cooked them oh so lightly. I love Pad Thai where it still feels fresh and kinda crunchy. The cilantro on top certainly helps with that as does a squeeze of lime.

The dish was a hit with me and the family which is an added bonus I guess. I'm glad it was met with rave reviews but I've never been awesome at sharing. I did eat this bowl and subsequent bowls of Pad Thai with chopsticks because I have difficulty pacing myself with a fork. Be glad a poorly lit photo was taken before the bowl was licked clean.

Just like Mum

This weekend was spent down memory lane as I came to Holladay to nanny 2 of the 3 kids I spend quite a few summers with. They have gotten older, and no longer run to see what surprises I had in my big Mary Poppins bag. Which makes me sad...I enjoyed those little science and art projects almost as much as the kids did. I did have a project or two planned but this time around, the weekend was a quick blitz of soccer practice, soccer games, and track meets. Though I've enjoyed the rain Utah's recently been swimming in, the sunshine made for a great afternoon outside. Egg drop contests and shadow art will have to wait however, tired kids with busy schedules demanded a more relaxed weekend of cookie baking. I estimate about 7 dozen's worth of both sugar cookies and chocolate chip. The thick sugar cookies with sour cream icing made for a quick breakfast on Sunday (unbeknownst to me) but the real stars were of course, the classic chocolate chip. 

I had tried to make chocolate cookies like my mom had a few times but didn't get it quite right until I watched her from start to finish. Missing from the margins but present in her memory are little additions to the recipe that make all the difference. Make sure you cream the butter and sugar for a 'good long while '(no precise timing here, a good long while is determined by texture and color), add the chocolate chips and flour together instead of in batches, and upping the flour content are just a few secrets that resulted in my sub-par recreation attempts. You would think that following the worn recipe exactly would yield cookies just like mom: not quite. But I've tinkered with what I've seen and made an adaptation or two for myself. 

As good as mine are, the old cliche rings true; there's something about your mother's cooking. That something very well could be excellent cooking skills paired with nostalgia. These cookies have been around for years of my life, and structured  my childhood afternoon snack. A favorite family story involves elementary aged older brother J coming home from school one day to a plate of chocolate cookies. A cookie in hand and one in his mouth he asked my mom "mom these are really good, but next time, can you have them warm when I come home?" Cute. 

I'm much less picky. Warm, cooled, half-baked, or even the raw dough, these cookies are excellent. And according to Emily Ruth, make an excellent dinner. 

Cheerio, She's London Bound

Goodbyes are such a bother. How to bid adieu to your roommate, concert companion, fellow Beatles enthusiast, and fashionista sister?  18 months is a terribly long time to be away on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, but 18 months serving in London, England has to be second best to spending time with her sisters, right?  Today was farewell for Sister S., and was it tough.  Perhaps rougher knowing that she will miss the alt-J concert to hit Salt Lake a month after she leaves, but maybe that isn't the reason we were all tearful.  Though its sad to see her go, I'm thrilled to doodle her letters and hear of her adventures and various culinary escapades (she is rather picky when it comes to food). But most of all, I can't wait to see her next spring...In London, of course.  Why wouldn't this be a good excuse to visit Big Ben?

Front and Center, is that lucky sister missionary, missed dearly by sisters on the right and left, and "cousin" bookends

Ho Ho Home

Jetlag is a beast, but it's grand being home.  Back to errand running, Netflix watching and sister bonding.  Ever grateful for the free time to recover from quite the semester of travel and sightseeing. Also, time zones. Baklava eating can take it out of you, but I was so glad to walk through US customs and be reunited with the fam.  Christmas time provokes some serious relaxation-cider, cookies and January's issue of  Real Simple magazine.  Seriously, that magazine is fantastic and covers all your bases.  Fashion, food, advice, Fan Favorites, advice columns, organization, book suggestions, you name it.  I'm doubly glad to be back at home and reunited with my closet.  Snow in Jerusalem was a fun time, but snow in Utah is much more fun in rain boots and peacoats. And skinny jeans.  We had a fun time shooting some family photos to bring in the New Year and surprise Pop with some pictures of his cute kids.


Happy to be nestled home and back to the regular swing of things. . .

How I've missed you, Real Simple.  How I've missed you.

Pre pillow fight

See You Later's and Suitcases

     Oh the suitcase summer can aptly title the month of August (and honestly summarize the summer in 2 words).  June and July days consisted of time at the pool, museums, make-your-own-suckers, tears and tennis lessons...Not for me, but for the 3 kids I nanny each summer.   At 12, 8 and 6 they require lots of stimulation-thank heavens for Pinterest crafts.  The poolside playtime came in handy while competing with my 2 sisters on "who can get the greatest tan".  While the kids loved their pool, I only had so  much time to work on my tan.  Being a lifeguard allows more time to soak up that sun which resulted in a third place win for me.  Maybe next year.  June seemed to stretch forever and melt into the 4th of July, which is on of my favorite holidays. Impossibly the month galloped forward into the 24th (slow down, July!) then August was here.  The 8th month brought a sort of enjoyable panic in our household.  The end of the month not only brought a wedding, one off to college, one smack in the middle of high school but also one about to leave country for a spell.  All four kids had some monumental life moment, and we all chose it to be within about a week of each other.  My poor parents.


Don't we all look precious?  From left to right, L. (High school)
J. (now a married man) Emily (yours truly) and S.  (BYU bound)

    Hence, August was this sort of manic blur as we all started wiring mason jars for the wedding and sorting out our shared closet, whose contents would soon be in three very different cities. Naturally, things worked out just fine.  The wedding was absolutely gorgeous and S.  is safe and sound at Brigham Young University.  L. is back in the social swing and procrastinating math homework but is doing exceptionally well.  I am the last to embark on my adventure and thus the suitcase summer can still apply.  Next week, I board a plane to go live in Jerusalem until Christmas time.  I'll be going with BYU's study abroad program with a few other students to study in the Holy Land.  That's a difficult semester to top, don't you think?  After a few squabbles about clothing, my suitcases are essentially packed as I scrounge up the last minute items before leaving the country.  This week's task is to spend time with my remaining limbs (Harry Potter? Anyone?) Kidding-I have a few days with just me and L. and the parents which rarely happens. I'm off to complete a summer "to do list" with Park City day trips and movie marathons both of which are great end of summer activities.  I'm trying to master the art of goodbyes, but seem to settle on see you laters.  I'll probably save a few of those hard ones for right before I leave for the airport. Now I know I'm kind of a "see you later" kinda gal...and also a 1-suitcase-plus-carry on-for-4-months master.