'Food'

lusting lake life….

June 4, 2014

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talk of a summer holiday has been bubbling up more and more at our dinner table of gluten-free and grass-fed.

i’m drawn to lands shopping mall-repellent, where starbucks doesn’t punctuates every corner and alley, and whole foods actually means food from the ground, tree, farm or local, non-have-to-mortgage your house market.

for at least one week i’d like a boulevard of conifer pines in exchange for blow dry bars and gel manicures.

give me an unpopulated, open, blue lake, and i’ll give you a girl on her best behavior {profanity NOT included.}

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my first true lake experiences were my high school, spring break debaucheries on lake havasu; thongs and tops typically optional—and i’m not talking “shoes.”

a week of banana boat spf {2}, zima in the can, george strait and neil diamond cd’s galore, chili con carne out of the can, and a body of water so crowded and dirty i’m still in disbelief my friends and i never contracted ecoli or hepatitis………or “motherhood” for that matter.

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what we lacked in promiscuity we made up for in folly and play.

playing cards, reading anne rivers siddons, watching the pirate movie for the 500th time, re-enacting “the happy ending” scene, and making the inevitable {hopefully burned} home movies of 8 girls dancing around singing “standing outside the fire!“—still such a great song!

there’s something about a lake that feels a bit less pomp and circumstance than life say, at the sea.

the whites don’t have to be starched, the collar need not its pop, a bare foot is appropriate attire for a meal lit by candlelight.

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california may be foremost known for our sandy beaches and pacific blue, but good grief, our beautiful lakes can give the surfers a run for their money any day.

one of my favorite memories is my dad teaching me how to fish at bass lake.

just me and him and an empty bucket……i couldn’t bring myself to “bait” the line.

and the whole idea of hooking a fish made me cry, shoulder-shaking, nose-running, peace erupting tears; my dad easily succumbed to letting me knock it in a beach chair, holding my baitless pole in the water.

this was the weekend i discovered vegetarianism.

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then there was the summer i took my broken heart and drowned it all the way to the bottom of june lake.

i swam and swam and swam, dived and dived and dived…until the constant shards of glass, lodged in my throat from a shocking divorce, softened into more manageable, occasional lumps of coal in my stomach.

more helpful than time on the couch or a prescription drug, my time underwater hid the noise of my raging screams and camouflaged any tears.

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but per my originial memory the lake is more of a happy, social, spread-the-good, not the grief, place to commune.

there’s something about a boat ride at dawn, with the ones you love, that brings out the truth serum in me.

along with the mascara and designer shoes, rigid, protective walls and insulating egos are shed; left at the last turnpike before meeting the road for the lake cabin.

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and i can’t think of anything more romantic than a dockside for two, hunkiest in hand, a homemade meal under the stars, with the ducks and fireflies playing sweet harmony for a post-dinner slow dance.

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anyone else lusting a little lake life too?

what are your favorite’s?

do you go fancy nancy? or are you the camping type?

this is my official throwing it out to the universe…i’m thinking somewhere in the south this year.

last one in is a rotten egg….

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in the mood for june….

June 2, 2014

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 no gloomy june for this katie-girl.

my morning’s coffee is extra black, and for once, i have clean hair.

life is grand.

yesterday, june greeted us with open-wide, sunshine’y arms, and a periwinkle-blue sky to match.

 sunday’s weather was so glorious, so post-card picturesque, i had to stay in bed all day, shades drawn, lights off, eye mask on.

i alternated between napping, reading, and catching up on mad men episodes to buffer my anxiety over all the natural beauty taking place outside.

a healthy dose of grime and angst here and there is needed to keep my blood sugar even; don draper served serve that purpose precisely.

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tis the season for the beach read.

last week i blew through this novel in a day. it IS the epitome of a beach read: murder, sex, family drama, a summer escape to a lake, etc….not a lot of brain power required, but it drew me in like an easter brunch buffet with a belgian waffle bar.

i’m now balancing out my brain cells with this…..very enjoyable…not sure it’s pulitzer material though? anyone else read it?

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so i’ve officially made THIS song my summer jam.

no, it’s not a new release, but it just oozes hot, sultry nights; think convertible for two, driving down pacific coast highway as the sun sets….

i’m loving it for both my spin and pilates classes….

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my hopes for june aren’t grand or audacious.

i’d like to feel the sand beneath my feet.

i want to perfect this cocktail……i might even make it non-virgin!!

i’m going to learn lightroom even if it means locking myself in a DARKroom to do it…anyone out there with experience with this effer of an editing software?

and, as always, the dance parties will continue with flourish and panache.

what are your june endeavors?

monday happy to you m’loves.

 

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berry, berry good…

May 28, 2014

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they’re here! they’re here! the berries are here!

every summer, when our blackberries make their annual bloom, our old, beat-up, seen too many days in the sun, backyard-wall gets a vibrant coat of green, purple, and pink.

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no paltry, orange county-starved housewife looking berries for us; these juicy gems are plump + fat with the perfect tart to sweet ratio which makes not eating them straight off the vine a lesson in self-control and willpower.

as you’ve read before, i’m not one who’s been able to master the art of meditation.

this morning, the mindfulness i used to not apply sunscreen to my toothbrush {as has happened 4 times over the last 30 days,} was the equivalent of a mumbai ashram internment; my teeth and gums are fresh and clean, but unlike yesterday, they are subject to sunburn.

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 there’s something about berry picking though; getting my actual hands on the prickly bush, fingertips grabbing pretty stains of magenta, butterflies humming around the berry blossoms, and the gentle, warm weather we’ve been having of late beckoning me to stay outside longer than i typically do—it all charms me into my own meditative trance.

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speaking of unbreakable catatonia….this one did not bat one inky eyelash off her mamma.

the fear of missing a fallen berry is paramount in priscilla’s world.

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meanwhile jones just helped himself straight from the vine.

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i wish i could say i whipped up a fantastic berry fool {aptly named, yes?} or that i swept hunkiest off his feet with a homemade blackberry cobbler {the one dessert i can make.}

but alas these popcorn-size bites of blue-violet bliss barely made it to the sink for a wash, before i gobbled them down like a hungry, hasty giant.

one need not have their own blackberry vines to experience the joy of the berry season. get thyself down to your farmers market {such a blogging cliché i know–i just gagged on my own vomit.} farmers markets are teeming with berries right now and it will make you so angry and guilty to see how much less expensive and better tasting they are than the stuff in our commercial markets {yes i’m talking about YOU whole foods!!!}

so talk to me goose: what’s your favorite ways to eat blackberries?

a berry-good wednesday m’loves.

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it started with an innocent text..

March 18, 2014

 

so last week the goddess {aka raquel perry, the fitness stalker, my girl crush,} sent me a text:

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i mean i was raised not to be rude.

and since when am i to turn down a homemade, crispy-riced, i need two napkins please, confection?

especially when they were hand-delivered, hot-pants clad, mid my nut-house, DMX-themed spin party, last saturday morning.

that’s real, i’ll-hold-your-hair-when-you-puke, friendship.

{luckily raquel has super short hair though.}

famished from my hip-hop-palooza on a bike, there was no ladylike postponement, waiting until i got home before i face dived into my gifted, baggie of sweet, crunchy goodness; with crispies in my lashes and pretzel crumbs in my belly button, i bare teethed texted raquel, demanding the recipe….

textthe thing is….i have been known to “demand” recipes in the past….

remember beautiful dena?

i was hell-bent on getting her chicken soup recipe too; stalked her new jersey ass, threatened to kidnap a twin or two of hers, and held up traffic on a bridge for a day until she gave it up.

she did.

but then i read how complicated it was {it really wasn’t but i’m an imbecile,} and the liklihood of me making chicken soup NOT from a can is faint.

but i promise to share her recipe soon with y’all.

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but these krispy things…{is krispy with a “k” or a “c”?,} really did read easy {you saw the text.}

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there are the rice puffs….

brown rice puffs, unsweetened.

3 cups.

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 spelt pretzels….

1 cup {chopped}

now i have NO idea why they have to be spelt; raquel specified spelt. i don’t know what spelt is; if you ask me “spelt” sounds like a species of fish. but if raquel tells me to eat used baby wipes, you bet i’m going to chow down on a cost-co sized box of those pre-moistened, not-so powder fresh anymore, towelettes…have you seen this woman?

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1/2 cup brown rice syrup….

this makes it sweet.

{yes, i may or may have not added more than she said….i did.}

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1/2 cup peanut butter…..

“save the rest of the jar for later date emotional eating binge”….i do—-{these are my notes, not raquel’s}

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1/2 tsp of vanilla….

2 cups for the floor and the counter.

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and this is why i hate to cook: directions like “a pinch of salt.”

what the f*^! does that mean?!!?!?

“a pinch” is a very partial amount….especially when it comes to salt….a pinch of salt to me, someone who thinks there’s too much salt in the salt-free food i buy, is one, micro, unseen speck of that tangy, white poison….yet if you were to ask me what a “a pinch” of sugar looks like, i’d need a forklift to show you.

give me metrics people!

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nevertheless they turned out delicious…albeit looking a bit yellow and dijon mustard-ish…

hunkiest liked them, so that’s all that mattered.

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 is it just me or does anyone else think of the maggot scene from poltergeist when you look at this plate?

i told raquel that was my only gripe; from far away i thought i’d made worm casserole.

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apparently i bought the wrong kind of cereal; her fancier, euro-erewhon are less larva-looking.

priscilla also gave her seal of approval. she loves when i cook; especially with peanut butter, she knows she’ll get the spoon.

but really, if you’re looking for a delicious, healthier alternative to rice crispy treats, and you’re not allergic to peanuts you should try this super-easy recipe.

happy cooking m’loves.

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where’d you go, katie?

March 10, 2014

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here in southern california when we have weekends as beautiful as we just had, it’s funny how, for two days, we seem to forget about taxes, jobs, and healthcare.

instead we bask, like jaundiced, carefree seal pups, vying for space under blue skies and cotton-balled clouds.

saturday morning, in a room packed, bike to bike, with people i worship, i danced my face off, to gangsta’s paradise and yes, a little miley, with my fellow newport beach gangsta’s.

every week we sweat and rock to the beat for sixty, “can i have a hallelujah?” minutes.

this is truly my favorite time of the week: this dark room, that music, and this crew.

on a high that no pill, injection, cheese plate, or shot of tequila could ever replicate, i walked/drove proudly {maybe even smugly} to my next class, a barre class, stopping several times to converse, visit, etc with people and the general public, rejoicing in sunny skies, emerald smoothies, and my other various, first world pretensions.

it’s in barre that i stretch, elongate, and awaken my inner martha graham—a beast which SHOULD be supressed.

a packed class, but i made sure i was front row, center….. for all to see.

{disclaimer–i’m in teacher training so i’m asked to be in the front row–most know that i prefer back corner, in the dark, hidden, invisible, non-existent.}

and see they all did…45 minutes into my grĀnd, vainglorious, “up an inch, down an inch” performance, as i lifted my leg back into arabesque, a quick glance at my form in the mirror confirmed that, yes,:

my pants had been on BACKWARDS all. morning. long.

to all you monkeybutts who didn’t tell me—-guess how many fingers i’m holding up right now?

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clearly i needed a change of scenery.

my fashion faux-pas called for a road trip.

hunkiest piled us all in the car saturday afternoon and we buzzed up north.

i wore a dress to be safe.

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i forget how limited food options become on the road when one doesn’t eat meat.

beef jerky is now its own aisle at most truck stops.

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was able to excavate some fruit though…

and i think it’s even considered “raw,” right?

i mean it’s not like i microwaved it or anything?

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typically i can’t read in the car….it makes me sick; like chocolate covered strawberries sick {WHY  do people RUIN TWO PERFECTLY GOOD FOODS!?!?!?!?}

but i cannot put this hilarious book down.

where’d you go bernadette” by maria semple.

it’s the story of a woman who absolutely LOSES her mind….and i could be …..i love this woman.

bernadette {the title character} stole my heart with the following four lines:

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 i’ve actually only been to a buca di beppo once.

it was for my best friend’s bachelorette party.

i was very young and very smug.

do you notice a theme here?

 i sent back my margarita because i didn’t like the taste {too alcoholic.}

the second one came back a little better, but 20 minutes into THAT drink i noticed my rigatoni morphed into large, sandy conches, hoisting miniature, blue mermaids, who brushed strands of their linguine hair as they recited def jam poetry to me.

no one else at the table could see this though.

the next thing i remember i was back at the hotel calling security on MYSELF.

fuck buca di beppo.

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who knows at what moment we start to lose it?

it’s my theory that we all have these little hiccups of mini-breakdowns throughout the day/week/month/year, but some sort of reflex {luck? god? self-preservation? a mirror?} pull us back, just right before, that tip-toe, into the never-never-straight-jacket-land….

i was explaining my theory of the daily break-down to hunkiest on our drive back last night….

and then i looked down at my feet…

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friday i’m in love…..

March 7, 2014

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friday buttercream frosting on your toes, fingers, and in my case, hair, to you m’loves!

how has mademoiselle march been treating you so far?

are you ready for warmer days?

the kind that calls for knees exposed, shoulders bared, and the ice-cube requisite cocktail?

me too.

well maybe not exposed knees….my knees haven’t seen the light of day since 6th grade.

here are a few sweetmeats i’ve fallen in love with this week:

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i don’t pop molly, i rock j.crew…..

spring the j.crew catalog finally arrived.

i’ve been neck-deep in pages of hot pink and polka-dot, my heels clicking like the tail of a tennis-ball chasing puppy.

selections have been made in case hunkiest asks…

i’m definitely going steady with this sweater, come may 5th….{birthday candles optional.}

and this entire look needs to happen for a date night.

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about a year ago my body, primarily my mannerly mane of hair, my non-perspiring constitution, and my somewhat predictable taste in food, turned on me and revolted—ukraine style.

i don’t talk/write about this hurtful coup d’etat because i don’t, nor does my doctor understand it….and it’s just too depressing to dwell on…

{the obviously theory is hormones, thyroid, etc..but all the tests have come back fine/inconclusive…}

but the point of this, rather long, {let’s admit–yawn-inducing} back story has to do with my new find.

for most of my life i have detested chocolate…loathed it; likened it to cruella deville and beets.

yet as of a year ago, chocolate has become a new, daily obsession; i crave it like a dalmatian craves its spots. i must have it, or i will skin said puppies, spots or no spots.

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enter tonic scene raw organic bars.

made from organic raw cacao mass, organic raw agave nectar, and organic raw cacao butter, just one piece of these bitter chocolate lovelies is the perfect antidote to my angry, 4pm hankering for dark goodness, and luckily no canines have to suffer.

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ok. officially on the lupita bandwagon.

love her.

loved her acceptance speech.

and loved even more her other speech on beauty that left the room speechless.

loved her dress.

i loved his speech about her.

she is divine.

lupitaapparently i’m not the only one with the lupita crush.

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iggy azalea’s “fancy” is this week’s jam….i’m loving the video based on the clueless movie…

have you taken the buzzfeed quiz, “which clueless character are you?“—{i got christian}–swoon.

and speaking of JAMS—if ANYONE can find me a radio edit of major lazer’s/pharrel’s “aerosal can”{warning: explicit!!}…i’ll be your best friend…

so that’s just a little of what i’m loving on this week…

oh..and of course…i’m loving on YOU for coming by to see ME, HERE at my blog party!!

come by again next week?

till then, see you on the other side of sunday m’loves…

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the liebster award

February 27, 2014

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remember me?

this has been the longest hiatus i’ve taken from writing…

getting back into the swing of work has been a bit harder than i had anticipated.

my body was not ready for the decathlon my anxiety-riddled brain craved, and BAM! my knee and hamstring gave out like two, third-string, hacks, posing in the major leagues.

i’m also cramming, winter semester, final-style, to teach at a new, local studio…i’m loving the stimulation and creativity, but it’s keeping me up late, at the barre.

and also, there’s just been an influx of overall farce and folly {all of it giggle-inducing} around the house, which has kept me far from these happy sounding laptop keys.

i am glad to be back.

i can’t believe it, but i actually have even been nominated for an award…

unfortunately not of the academy type; so signor armani you can cease the hemming of my floor-length tulle skirt you insisted i wear sunday night….but i’ll keep the pearls and save my frock for some later springtime fete, perhaps a picnic or sail? armani]

but back to my nomination…it’s called the liebster award…it’s a type of blogging award…except there aren’t any judges, there is no ceremony, definitely no red carpet, i don’t need even need a blow out {i still might get one though,} and no actual winner…

so, yes, i’ll ABSOLUTELY take it.

thank you silentblackstarrs for the nomination…i am tickled kelly green.

liebthe only requirements are that i answer the following questions…

here goes:

1) what got you to start blogging?

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definitely my deep narcissism and self-absorption.

it is my firm belief that everyone in the world wants to know what i eat for dinner and what i wore while eating said dinner. i owe them this information and the accompanying selfie.

 2) if you could choose to be in a movie, what would it be?

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“grease 2″ no hesitation.

 my “cool rider” blows up that bitch michelle pfeiffer’s rendition any day of the week….

my “girl for all seasons” is a close second. i am constantly perfecting this routine.

she’s my coach.

3) if you can say one thing to the person you are missing right now, what would you say?

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rob!!! we’re out of talenti!

4) if God appeared in front of you right now, and told you that you can change the path of your life (your career, the partner you chose, the place you are living, etc.), what would you change?

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first i would say to her, good luck hosting the oscars…and second i would ask her to not change anything other than to please not me live longer than the people i love {this includes my dogs!!!}—oh and to never cancel true detective.

5) who is the person you love hanging out with most?

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my husband.

6) describe that person please.

he doesn’t say much, but the stuff he does say makes my knees weak, and when he says those things, i faint a like pre-teen at a one direction concert…

7) what is your jam? (your theme song!)

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8) if you were given a chance to have one talent, what will it be?

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to not leave places messier than how i found them {both literally and figuratively.}

9) if you had to choose one food for the rest of your life to eat what would it be?

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coffee.

10) have you ever been nominated for a liebster award before?

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no.

but i’m still going to wear a pretty dress today.

thanks again to silentblackstarrrs for the nomination…and i hope to see you here tomorrow m’loves…

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shut the fridge: dena gross

February 11, 2014

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welcome to another edition of “shut the fridge” where we take an apologetic look into some of the most interesting people’s refridgerator’s.

i have been on-my-knees begging for this latest post.

today we welcome dena gross.

dena is a friend…more of an online friend, because she’s that cool girl, i have not had the confidence yet to ask out for coffee, dinner or to just let me breathe in her prettiness.

first espied at the gym, and then {like so many of my other victims,} stalked on facebook, dena has become another katie casualty and graciously succumbed to my badgering, allowing us a glimpse into her, now east-coast {yes, sadly she and her family moved away this summer–from me?!?!?!?} life.

dena has 3 A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E {we’re talking like j.crew model–ALL 3} children..twins and a plus one; all very close in age..and yet she still seems super chill, VERY connected to her awesome husband jared, and as grounded as they come…no wonder she left orange county…

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Growing up in the heart of commercial California farming, watching Big Ag crop-

dust my small town with liquid pesticides at regular intervals, I developed a certainamount of cynicism about the food supply and the average American diet. Raised by a mother who believed that processed food was nutritionally void and cooking at home was more economical than buying pre-packaged meals, my sibs and I ate lots of homemade bread, chicken & barley stews, fresh eggs, vegetables, and drank unpasteurized milk that a local farmer delivered to us weekly (by the pail). These foods were healthier and cost much less when prepared by Mom.

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Having three young kids of my own, I believe my role as a parent is to train my children’s appetites for real food.

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If I am a little uncompromising with them it’s because I know that as they grow more independent they’ll have plenty of exposure to artificial dyes, bleached flour, and processed junk masquerading as food. I want the things they eat while they’re young to be the highest quality I can provide. And now Ms. Katie has asked to peek into my fridge and know a little more about my approach to feeding young kids healthful food. In the early days I had three kids under the age of 2, so I went through a long period of pureed meals. I dedicated many Sundays to steaming and blending every combination of vegetable, fruit, and protein I could think of (sometimes nabbing ideas off the labels of baby food jars). My husband Jared would entertain the babies while I pureed “recipes” and portioned them out by the ½-cup amount in zip-lock bags, freezing them flat on a cookie sheet and stacking them in labeled rows in my freezer; a veritable “library” of options for the week to come; defrost as needed. Five years later I no longer have the luxury of a captive audience.

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My kids have LOTS of opinions about what they don’t like and no one seems to be a fan of leafy greens (which is not negotiable in my book), so one of the mainstays in our house is a green smoothie several times a week. While I serve vegetables at every dinner and for many snacks, I find that by supplementing their diet with green smoothies I can be sure my bases are always covered.

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Smoothie ingredients vary but usually include a majority of the following (all organic): almond/dairy milk, avocado, big handfuls of raw kale, Swiss chard, spinach, green leaf lettuce, frozen bananas/grapes/pears, raw almonds or cashews, chia seeds, hemp seeds, mesquite powder, coconut butter, vanilla, cinnamon, and frozen berries.

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If I make a batch before school pickups and store them in a cooler on the passenger seat, the kids hop in the car whining for a snack and I hand them a green smoothie.

Done.

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But back to my fridge: Top shelf: whole milk, almond milk, many containers of nuts and seeds and trail mix. Fresh greens and herbs keep oodles longer in a jar of water. Barley and spelt flours for these lovely muffins from GOOP, which are a staple in our lunch boxes.

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Harmless Harvest coconut water is costly but a lovely indulgence, presumably full of natural electrolytes – we drink it straight because it’s too delicious to mix with other things.

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Also in my fridge you’ll find random items like roasted beets, a batch of cooked farro or wheat berries for serving cold as a salad in lunches, homemade beans (pimento, garbanzo, red kidney or white navy beans) to mix with brown rice or serve cold with a vinaigrette.

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The chicken on the bottom shelf represents a lot: salted & roasted with fingerling potatoes for dinner, a quick gravy from the drippings; panko-crusted baked “nuggets.” If there are any leftovers the kids will take chicken salad sandwiches for lunch.

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I often buy organic parts (wings, drumsticks, feet, necks) for stock that I use in soups, stews, and as the liquid for cooked grains.

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Recently tried making my own almond milk (see photo) and although it was sublimely creamy, it was a bit of a hassle to do on a regular basis. Plus, the “nut bag” could not be taken seriously.

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My husband and I are not seafood fans so in order to get the kids a regular dose of healthy oils (outside of the panko-crusted fish sticks I make now and then), I supplement their diet a couple of times a week with Nordic Naturals fruit-flavored Cod Liver Oil.

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It’s a little gross but they’ve been eating it by the half-teaspoonful since infancy so they don’t think much of it. They also take a probiotic regularly.

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 Because dairy is my greatest weakness, elsewhere in my fridge you’ll find a very hearty cheese drawer stuffed with at least 6 varieties at any time.

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In my freezer are many of the usual suspects: frozen Ezekial sprouted grain English muffins (great toasted & slathered with almond butter and honey, but may explain my husband’s penchant for grabbing hot ham & egg sandwiches in the city before work), a backup supply of chicken stock and my collection of accumulated chicken parts for the next batch; leftover cannellini beans, Trader Joe’s Panang curry, and Niman Ranch uncured bacon. Berries or pineapple as fodder for future smoothies. And, of course, brie to be served warm with apricot jam because you can’t have too much cheese.

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a trader joe’s tragedy….

January 16, 2014

 

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it began so innocent.

it was day 23 of consecutive spin classes, and i’d hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch yet, which pretty much translates: “t’was a dark and stormy night.

 what started as a pure-hearted visit to trader joe’s, for my organic pears and arugula {wink wink,} ended in a probable diagnosis of type ii diabetes.

my clean-handed intentions were immediately marred with sugar and crunch when, like the local drug-pusher, hawking promises of elation and frenzy, the crack-trafficking peeps at trader joe’s nested their own mind-altering products at emotional eater eye-level, provoking the same sticky sweet promise of a dope daze.

 caramel and dark chocolate popcorn crunch and the ruggedly adventuresome cowboy bark; in the words of rihanna “where have you been all my life?

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 caramel and dark chocolate popcorn crunch is exactly how it reads….and MORE. sure you have your standard caramel and kettle corn, BUT the little kind-hearted, katie-loveing trader joe’s elves added dark chocolate covered, candied pecans, almonds, walnuts & cashews {for protein, i assume.}

the cowboy bark, described aptly as ruggedly awesome, adds to that dark chocolate train with pretzels, toffee, joe joe cookies, peanuts, almonds and sea salt.

i don’t know about you, but sea salt is the new rainbow sprinkles at my house.

i couldn’t choose between the two…i’d hate to hurt either snack’s feelings….so both were brought home, blended into a tasty stew of sweet and salty.

arranging my stash in a clean, white bowl seemed, at the time, to make the experience less dirty.

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 but who was i kidding?

the nasty popcorn whore that i am, mowed down the whole bowl like it was a qualifying sochi race; a race performed in bed…yes, this was all consumed in my bed, i didn’t even have the dignity to sit upright.

this is me not able to face my handsome husband, he had just asked me if i had saved him any…..

i’m sure y’all have much more self-control than i clearly can’t exhibit….so if dark chocolate wonderful is your jam, then get thyself immediately to a your nearest trader joe’s…

mouths of happy to you m’loves.

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scenes from a saturday night…..

January 13, 2014

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the hunkiest and i are the new faces of hermit living.

of late, the weekend trek to trader joe’s is our cologne-spritzing, lip gloss-wearing, disco ball chasing of a saturday night.

sag screenings and finally jumping aboard the netflix breaking bad train keeps us pajama-clad and sofa ensconced on most nights.

but this saturday night we busted the buttons off of our ritual of comfort and, decked in denim, cruised out into polite society for date night.

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nothing like a pair of wingtips to damper the dishevelled look i taken so fondly to these days.

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1st stop john varvatos.

we’ve finally become everything i hate about orange county.

date night isn’t a visit to a museum, a seat at the hottest concert, nor is it front row at a play……

we go to the mall {insert image of me taking a nine-glock to the chin.}

but hunkiest needed a new suit, and john varvatos serves beer, wine, & espresso to the impatient, toe-tapping, eye-rolling wives.

bedecked in a slim-fit, italian virgin wool two-piece, my green-eyed sweetheart was probed and whacked with measuring tapes and shoe horns, while i spun out like an out-of-control dreidel, jacked up on all that espresso.

dinner

amped and ravenous we hit our favorite neighborhood haunt for eats and side-by-side booth sharing.

 the razor thin-crust pizza is naples certified, and my husband is able to drink peroni while watching play-off football; it’s the perfect spot.

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dean martin’s serenade and a belly full of marinara slathered carbohydrates inspired “molto amore!”

unfortunately the romance ended here.

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and was replaced by a whole ‘nother kind of sunday morning love.

how did your weekend treat you m’loves?

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