welcome, 26

I've always been fortunate to feel really loved and celebrated on my birthday. Except that one year when my Mom forgot it was my birthday. Kidding, she totally would've remembered eventually had I not obnoxiously reminded her at the gas station on our way to the OBKB lodge for the annual May birthdays/Memorial Day weekend. I was, after all, something like eleven years old, and birthdays were an even bigger deal back then, right? 

Anyways, while I really missed being at the lake with my family this year, I genuinely had an amazing weekend. I feel like I packed a ton of summery events in, got a little tan in the process, and spent time with some really great friends. It all wrapped up last night with a great little Monday dinner with Sophie and Hong-Nhu. 

I made my new chicken recipe for the THIRD time in, I don't know, a week, Hong-Nhu brought a great salad, I heated up some of the smoked gouda mac and cheese I set aside from a cookout I went to on Sunday, and Sophie brought dessert. Not just any dessert, mind you, but peanut butter pie, a long-time favorite of mine, which was so sweet of her to remember. She even brought candles, which valiantly managed to hold their own despite the fact that the pie succumbed a bit to the oppressive heat. 

After I blew out the candles, we ended up scooping it straight out of the pie pan, bits of oreo cookie crust and all, as we watched yet another awful episode of The Bachelorette, transfixed and horrified by the cheesiness unfolding before our eyes. It was the perfect way to kick of my twenty sixth year, which, not to totally jinx it, is off to a great start. Twenty five had some serious curve balls, but coming in to this birthday, I've never felt so happy and content. You could even say I'm glowing.    

nostalgia wednesdays: bread

There was this phase when we had not one, but two bread machines in the family. We had one at our house, and there was also one at the OBKB Lodge in Georgia. I can't remember when exactly this was, but I remember it fondly as the time before I worried about things like boys, wrinkles, and mortgages.

For a while there, we were making fresh, homemade bread pretty often, if for no other reason than to test out the various recipes that came in the little booklet with the machine. I think we made everything from sandwich bread to pizza dough to cinnamon rolls with that thing. I don't remember much about the mechanics of the operation, but I do remember the drool-inducing scent of the bread as it was baking away in the little white machine.

I've made rosemary olive oil bread a handful of times, and foccacia bread once, but the scent just isn't quite the same for some reason. But a couple Sundays ago, in my worry-propelled flurry of activity, I made whole wheat bread in an attempt to put something on my pantry shelves that would feed me until the move. Almost as soon as it started baking, the smell immediately transported me back to the bread machine days. 

The recipe was super-simple to make, and everything happened in the bowl of my Kitchenaid, which is good, because Kitty the Kitchenaid Stripper was feeling neglected after Fiona got all the love when I made toasted almond gelato for (F)easter dinner a couple weeks ago. 

The bread comes out on the denser side, it is whole wheat + flax after all, but it's been perfect for snacking, and for healthy(ish) breakfasts. I had been subsisting on pastries and granola bars during the busy cycle at work, so yes, I consider wheat bread healthy(ish). And at least for me, the nostalgia factor is totally worth the hour or two time commitment on a rainy Sunday. 

Oh and yes, I still have so much to tell you about my new place, which I've started thinking of as "the nest" given its strategic position amongst several courtyard trees, making my nosiest neighbors a whole slew of chirping birds. But for now, there's work to do, so I'll leave you with a preview of the new, DC-based Little Kitchen That Could, which is, in fact, the littlest kitchen to date. I might be the only one, but I'm pretty excited about the adventures to come, in and outside the kitchen...

    

(f)easter preview

Easter at the lake, circa 1994. So glamorous, I know. 

The idea of a Thursday happy hour is great, especially in the spring, I think. Slipping out of work a little early for a drink on a patio is one of my more favorite things to do when it gets warm. And I'm lucky in that I'm really happy with the group of friends I've made through work. My former offices in DC weren't as conducive to extra-office socializing, which has its benefits, of course. But I prefer the atmosphere in which there's always a group, or at least a person, to grab coffee, lunch, or a drink with at any given time.

No matter how nice the weather or the group at Thursday happy hour, I must say that the Friday post-happy hour reality is not always so great. Let's just say we were all a little slow to get going this morning, which sounds an awful lot like my complaints of exhaustion from last Friday. 

So while I have a great pesto recipe to tell you about, and a few cool kitchen-y links to share, I am just too darn lethargic to properly articulate either point. 

See, I've devoted all my (limited) energy today, and really for the past couple of days, to being so very excited for a new little tradition that my aforementioned work friends and I are starting this weekend. "(F)easter" dinner. It's a play on "Friendsgiving," which ended up being such a great experiment/adventure/success that Neha and I have been itching to throw another food-centric party (on a smaller scale, this time). We had a great holiday party in December, but decided to keep it simple on the food front, so we're long overdue now that it's April. 

This little dinner party just so happens to fall on Easter weekend, hence the (awful) pun. We're also celebrating one of our coworker's first trips back to the states after a long four months in Afghanistan. And indulging my odd and infrequent desire to cook a whole lot of time-intensive things. Win win win.

I won't spoil the surprise of what I'm cooking (most if it isn't new, sadly, but old favorites are favorites for a reason). I know you're on the edge of your seat, really. If you're at all interested in Italian food or a long overdue homemade ice cream recipe, check back next week!

For now, I'll leave you with one cool Easter related link. NPR's food blog published an article today on why Catholics don't eat meat, but can eat fish, on Fridays during Lent. Being a lifelong Catholic who does her best to observe that rule, I always was more than a little embarrassed when friends would ask me "why does that exist?" and I wouldn't be able to answer. But now I can!  

Happy "whatever you celebrate" this weekend! Family, I hope you're having a lovely time in Georgia without me for the holiday. Eat a waffle or two for me?     



 

nostalgia wednesdays: waffle weekends at the lake

I hit that "must get out of DC now" point last week. I thought I could hold out until this coming weekend to head for home, but it turns out that I just couldn't. Well, that and I remembered a friend of mine was driving to Charlotte on Friday, which solved 50% of my logistics issues, and after happy hour on Thursday, 50% sounded a lot better than 0%. 


The other 50%, that'd be the return trip, ended up being solved by MegaBus. Not because I was dying to spend 8 hours on a bus, but because Amtrak was sold out and a flight was prohibitively expensive. The adventure was spearheaded by our driver Mo-reece. Yes, Mo-reece. I know he spells his name this way because we all spent plenty of quality time together when the bus broke down in the parking lot of a McDonald's in Mebane, NC. 


Believe it or not, that wasn't actually the worst part of my trek back to DC. But much like the fire alarm incident, I'm just not ready to go there yet, especially because I just got my hair done, which I always find that to be an expensive but incredibly effective mood booster, and I don't want to deflate that bubble just yet. Want to get my money's worth and all. 


Anyways, being home was exceedingly restorative, as it always seems to be. I got to snuggle with the dog and catch up with my family (+ some of our Charlotte family). I also got to sleep in, eat out, watch lots of basketball, and introduce my Mom to Ikea. One of the other great things about being home? Mom always makes me some sort of syrupy breakfast. This time we had chocolate chip pancakes and waffles, which probably explains why my new pair of pants no longer fit. Despite my sister's claim that I'm a "human Fiat," the weekend of carby eating seems to have caught up with me.    


The hip augmenting waffles were good, but I don't think anything will ever compare to the waffles we ate by the half dozen at the lake house in Georgia growing up. I have no idea how we first discovered the brand, nor do I actually know what it's called to this day. All I know is that it comes in a burgundy box, is only sold in random grocery stores, and produces the best waffle you'll ever eat. For a while, whatever parent(s) woke up first would be on waffle duty, and would have the difficult task of deciding whether the older or the younger kids got waffles first. At some point I took over the waffle iron, probably because I'm the most type A of the bunch and one of the earliest risers. 


For years and years, especially in the summer, that routine would happen on pretty much a weekly basis, kicking off a day of sunscreen and swimmies. Now that the cousins are mostly all grown up, or at least older and living further away, we don't get down to the lake as often anymore. I only make it there once or twice a year at this point, and while that's good news for my hips, I miss the weekend waffle routine. 


On a related note, I know I haven't baked or cooked in a good, long while. Life has been insanely hectic, mostly of my own doing, and I kind of like it that way, but I'm really itching to get back in the LKTC. Pinterest is full of recipes I want to try, so stay tuned and maybe, just maybe, something current and cooking related will pop up here. 

gratitude and glazed carrots

 

grateful for the countless lake house weekends when i was growing up

(slightly less grateful for these sunglasses...) 

I realize that both Friendsgiving and actual Thanksgiving have passed now, but it's still the season to be thankful if you ask me. Sometimes I forget just how good I have it, so I've been trying not to lose sight of that this year, even though things don't always go just as I'd like. 

I'm grateful for the big things, like my crazy family and their unyielding belief that I'm someone to be proud of, my amazing friends and their consistent grace in the face of my many quirks,  my childhood full of weekends at the lake house, my comfortable (if small) apartment, my (relatively) stable job, and the freedom and means to do what I please most of the time. 

I'm also thankful for silly little things, like the Bose noise cancelling headphones my Mom decided she didn't need, my bright pink rain boots, the holiday parties that give me an excuse to dress up this season, pictures of my sister and I from when we were younger that make me laugh, the Starbucks solo espresso macchiatos that remind me of Italy, the days I don't have to set an alarm clock, and the realization about a year ago that I can actually cook for myself if I put my mind to it. 

That last one is what brings us to the glazed carrots bit. A couple weeks ago, I was supposed to have plans with a friend, but bowed out last minute (see: their grace in the face of my quirks). I was so exhausted from one of the innumerable pre-7am meetings we have here at work, and just wanted to go home. I was headed for a night of cereal and soy milk, but my guilt complex kicked in, and instead I made garlic naan (from Trader Joe's, so good!), roasted potatoes tossed with this Moroccan spice mix and some olive oil, and these curried glazed carrots (both recipes from a favorite of mine, Dinner a Love Story). 

It involved only a tiny bit more effort than pouring myself cereal and milk, and was far more satisfying. I'm thankful that those sort of choices are becoming more normal in my life. It gives me hope that maybe some day I'll actually be capable of turning out edible dinners on a regular basis for my future family. Now I just need to work on more internet-worthy pictures...

 

ps-I've been adding any referenced recipes to the "LKTC-tested recipes" tab at the top of the main page, including those we used at Friendsgiving, even though I haven't detailed that adventure yet, so if you're looking for a comprehensive list, head over that way. 

nostalgia wednesdays: the OBKB lodge

one of my favorite pictures EVER from the early days at the lake

(no clue what we were doing!) 

Since I was incubating, my family has had a lake place, fondly referred to as the OBKB Lodge. My mom was about my age when she and my dad went in with her brother and their parents on a "weekend place" in south Georgia. Now that I am that age, it boggles my mind to think of being a)married, b)pregnant, and c)a dual homeowner. I can barely afford ONE place right now, not to mention two. And don't even get me started on the whole married/pregnant thing. Let's just say that's a heck of a long way off.

But I'm so glad that somehow my parents had it way more together than I do at this age, because the lake house has become the crux of our family gatherings for decades. When my sister and I were little, and our family still lived in Georgia, we'd be down here every weekend with our cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Now, it's become more of a compound than just a lake house, since my grandparents built their own place next door to the original lake house and retired here a few years ago, and my mom's second brother and his wife moved down here full time, too.

Every time we come to the lake, and turn in to the neighborhood where our house is, I remember how my sister and I would be SO EXCITED that we were finally allowed to take our seat belts off for the last mile to the house. The weekends were always a blur of my grandma's great cooking, endless hours swimming in the lake, and the cousins always getting in trouble for staying up late talking in the room where we shared a set of bunk beds. 

We've long since graduated from wearing swimmies and playing with American Girl dolls, but we still come back here at least a few times a year for the big holidays. Our already big family is slowly expanding, but it seems like yesterday that we would squeal as my (now-married) cousin Matt would grab mud off the floor of the lake and hurl it at the girls.  

Although our lives have all changed one way or another since the OBKB Lodge was first built, it is still a place of spotty (at best) cell phone service and minimal internet connectivity (aka a slow connection at my grandparents' house, next door to the lodge). When you come to the lodge, you eat, you sleep, and you talk. While that used to drive me a bit crazy, I've become so much more thankful for the chance to check out and relax since I moved to DC.

Anyways, I'm on dinner duty tonight, and I have meatballs and sauce to attend to back at the main lodge. So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Hope you're surrounded by as much love, good food, and nostalgia as I am right now.