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.