Pretend Fall

So I am continuing to learn about this whole weather situation in California. I have lived in a number of places (Ohio, Illinois, and North Carolina) all of which had distinct seasonal changes. While I knew California was "different" I am not sure one can ever be truly prepared for this kind of "different".

Case and point. It is November. The middle of November no less. Last week I was wearing shorts and flip flops...still. People say, "how wonderful, California weather is perfect". OH NOT SO. Not so for a fall-loving, jacket-wearing, boots-obsessed female such as myself. Not so.

So what does any sane person deeply missing fall do? Pretend. We carved pumpkins with our friends anyways... 

Please do take note of the shorts and tank tops.

Ours was a dog. Not a mouse. Contrary to popular opinion that evening.

Kristen was telling a story but it just so happens that it looks like she is presenting the pumpkins. So it's perfect.

This particular evening inspired me in all things pumpkin related, and husband found a pumpkin pie recipe (of course). So I did the whole fall baking thing. Recently I have been kind of snobby in my baking adventures and will only do recipes that are from scratch. However, I about had a hernia making the gingersnap crust for our pie. We don't have a food processor, so I thought - when my mom crunched up things she would just put it in a plastic bag and use this wooden hammer thing. So I got the bag part down and then I realized how weird it is that my mom has a wooden hammer...because I clearly do not. 

So I used a cup. Bad idea number one. I about broke the cup 30 times. The bag was getting torn to shreds so I thought I'd pour what I had in the pan and crunch the rest in there. Bad idea number 2. I had gingersnap and walnuts all over the floor. Then I added too much butter after half of it exploded all over the microwave. Bad idea number 3. 

I could go on and on because it was sort of a baking catastrophe but this is about fall, not my pie. Good news is that other than the crust being basically rock hard...it was pretty dang good pie. So good that we only shared a bit with Kristen and Joe and ate the rest. Last night we were watching Grey's Anatomy (because that's all we really do these days) and we pulled out the pie. I looked down and it was gone. "We ate this whole freaking pie by ourselves", Chris started dying laughing, took a picture, and told me to blog about it. So I am. (Side-note: I would just like my family to know that I hardly ever have rocket out but I was not feeling great this week and husband allowed it. For those of you that are confused, Rocket it my baby blanket and yes I know it is sad that I still have it.)

The face is a result of my hand coming in contact with a mound of caramel.

That was a major distraction. I wanted to get around to the redemptive part of the story. The part where California starts to show some signs of fall and a particularly perfect day...

Rachel, Kristen, and I went to Orange last weekend to the farmer's market. Let me just take a moment to say that Orange is an absolute gem of a town and last weekend only further confirmed my adoration. To my absolute glee, I woke up that morning and it was cool enough for me to wear boots and a sweater on this outing...and apparently all of us were feeling the same way because we all ended up wearing boots and we were pretty adorable.
We did extremely fall-ish things. Like wearing boots and scarves :) Plus Kristen braided her most beautiful hair and for some reason that made her look even more wonderfully fall-ish. We moseyed around the farmer's market eating ever sample in sight. We ate lunch at Bruxie, this ridiculously awesome place that dreamed up waffle sandwiches...well I assume they aren't the first but they sure are doing it right. Then we walked around town hitting up the antique stores and silly girly shops. As we walked we found a tree. Yes one tree. And it's pretty little leaves were starting to change. I probably should have cried. But I'm not really a cry-er. So instead I was just crazy overwhelmed with happiness. I took a deep breath and laid my heaviness to rest in knowing that it is finally, finally fall.

Don't worry, I'm not getting my hopes up for winter :)  

Yes please on the vintage frames.

ciao olive garden

For those of you that are hardcore Olive Garden lovers, and I know you are out there, let me make myself clear - I believe that the Olive Garden is a perfectly fine establishment. Buuuuut, and you know this is coming because of my well thought out title, we should all face it that there are indeed other Italian restaurants that could (and do) trump it. For purposes of my sanity and the likelihood that "Olive Garden" will repeat itself many times in this post, let's just be cool and abbreviate ok?

Many years of my life were spent passionately loving OG. I would often think of it first when the whole "so where do you want to eat question?" arose. However, as I grew older and more aware of myself and my tendencies, I realized every time we went I was planning my meal around one thing and one thing only. Sure I would check out the seafood pasta, which was my favorite course, and I'd browse the menu for other yummy (and yet sort of mediocre) Italian dishes. But when that server approached the table I had one very important question for him or her, one that would make or break what I would order for that evening. "What sides come with that?" If they said that it didn't come with a side, well then I would drop that sucker like I was never interested. So why the drama, why so bent on the side?

Two words.

Zuppa Toscana. 

Yes. YES. Just typing it made me salivate. In a somewhat average Italian restaurant, this beautiful representation of excellence in soup form is what brought me to the OG for years. I knew it, but I didn't want to admit that it was truly the only reason I went. This raises another question, well it should because this is supposed to be really suspenseful and draw you in...WHY am I saying goodbye? How could I when I clearly have this deep, passionate attachment to this sausagey, potatoey goodness. Well, hold on a second. 

On a seemingly random note...my husband is awesome. Chris is one of those rare breeds of man that loves to cook. Because he loves to cook, and quite honestly is much better at it than me, he follows some food blogs. Like any true foodie does. Recently he has been e-mailing recipes he is interested in us making. He sent me one a couple weeks ago from The Pioneer Woman (to whom we already owe plenty of life changing meal experiences). As I began to browse this recipe, I thought to myself "this looks like it's similar to Zuppa Toscana". And then as if I predicted her next sentence, Pioneer Woman wrote "this is an at-home version of the Olive Garden's Zuppa Toscana". 

Whhhhhaaaaattt? 

A flood of thoughts rush my brain. This can't be as good. It's probably an awful knock-off wanna be the best soup in the world failure of a recipe. This could change my life. This is a reliable source of good eats. Perhaps she's not lying when she says she will save me lots of money and trips to OG. Then BAM. Final conclusion. I would never have to go to the OG again and pretend like I loved anything else besides this soup. My soup. I was exhausted. So I went out and bought all the ingredients. 

Was it awesome? Well, I was hesitant as I took the first few bites. It was milky. I was disappointed. Again, husband back on scene with his save-the-day cooking skills. He threw in a whole crap load of different spices.  I tried again and it was friggin awesome. And here is one of the best parts...it lasted us for FIVE WHOLE MEALS. and it got better with time. I'd actually recommend anyone that wants to make it to make it the day before because each day it just got better and better and better. 

We are obsessed. It will probably be a soup we have for a long time, like with the kids and grandkids long time. And I no longer have to go to OG just to buy other food when all I really want is a gallon of soup. If it was socially acceptable I would ask for six to eight refills, when in reality I feel awkward after two and I haven't touched my pasta. No more. It exists in my very own kitchen. 

Thank you Pioneer Woman, thank you food blogging husband, and thank  you Olive Garden for giving me a reason to even try. 

home sweet home

Up until this last year, if you asked me "What is one place in the United States you would never want to live?" I would have said, without hesitation, CALIFORNIA. Oh sweet irony. My reasons...well there were many.

1. It's a state full of pretty people
2. All these pretty people...they know they are pretty
3. The pretty people are rich and thus have lots of pretty things
4. It costs a jillion dollars to live there
5. If I were to ever live there I would only be able to afford a shack

This could continue but I believe my shallowness has already been confirmed. Basically, I never wanted to live in California because I knew it would be bad for my ego. To make me look even better, let's explore my source for all of this wonderful information. Mmmm yea that would be the television and perhaps a movie or two. Those have always proven to be reliable sources of truth.

So now I have real life experience to speak from. For all you wondering east coasters, truth be told it is a lot different from the beautiful south. The traffic is crazy and it really doesn't even matter what time of day it is. People aren't as friendly and honestly most of them do dress better than average. Let me just say that I have never felt like I needed to wear my Sunday best to grab coffee before, that pressure now exists. The beach towns are incredible but that is also where all the stereotypical "movie" Californians are. Almost everyone that surfs has a spare board and suit for you to use, awesome. You will see more ridiculously expensive cars than you have ever seen in your life. The buildings, shopping centers, and houses are waaaaay older than the average 5 to 10 year old everything in Cary NC. And finally, for the most part...it looks NOTHING like the movies at least over here in good old La Mirada.

Chris and I did have the unreal experience of living in Newport on Lido Isle for two months, right on the water.

Morning coffee was wonderful watching the sail boats and row teams and lots of puppies out on their morning walks...which if you know me in the slightest you know that puppies are one of the world's greatest joys. This, among many other things, was an unnecessary blessing and confirmed for us that we would make it out here in crazy California.

About a month and a half ago we moved in to our little home in La Mirada, much much different than the dream world that is the Balboa peninsula with it's close proximity to amazing eats, shopping and the beach. We are now about 20 to 30 minutes from the ocean (I know it's painfully far) in a tiiiiny little town. We live in a sweet little community of graduate students where people say hi to you and want to know about your life, people share their food and let you hold their babies. The biggest trial is that we have to hand wash our dishes and we don't have AC, and yes disgustingly enough we still need it even though it's almost November. We've learned to love our weird shag carpet and the tiki roof above the bar. There is definitely a lot to adjust to and things we miss about the east coast but California is not as awful as I built up in my mind.

And I can guarantee you, even with my minimal experience as a Californian, that it is a wonderful place to visit and Chris and I just so happen to have an incredibly comfortable couch. Just sayin...

this is probably mostly for my mom.

Choosing a blog title is a ridiculous task. I almost didn't do it because of that one seemingly simple step. And then you think "I'm going to have to explain anything I put in this little box". So I'm going to get that beginner step out of the way.
Life just changed a little bit for me. Chris and I picked up our lives and chucked them clear across the continent.  Our move is what ultimately "inspired" me to become a blogger, although I'm not sure I can give myself that title until I prove myself faithful to the task. In North Carolina we were living life with most of the people that would have even the slightest desire to read anything I write about so I thought that would be purely redundant. But now we are removed from all of those people and keeping everyone updated is not only exhausting but basically impossible. I forget who I tell what and when and why. It's too much. So mom, this is really mostly for you and maybe only you, which would really be fine with me.

The title. Let's go back to that. It is silly but who really knows what to put there? However, there is a purpose for it so I'll let you in on it. One of my favorite verses is Job 26:14...

"And these are but the outer fringes of His works; how faint the whisper we hear of Him! Who then can understand the thunder of His power?"

Of course this is in the context of great suffering, I'm not going to do an exegesis of the verse but simply say I think this is one of the most beautiful verses I have ever read. I could go a lot further with this...buuut it might be a little too personal for the internet. My basic thought is that we see only the fringes of what God is capable of, that's exciting and so scary. But this truth often carries me, especially in the midst of change. Since this blog is inspired by one of the biggest changes in my life I thought it appropriate to label it with my comforting anthem. Ultimately, Chris and I are here in this foreign land because of His whispers. He led us here and man has He upheld us in the sweetest ways already.

So mom...enjoy :)