Last night my clutch was stolen—and to makes things worse, it was my favorite Claire Vivier—straight out of my very unlocked car. It was a big ol’ gigantic bonehead move on my part. I blame my dad. He never locked the front door because he was raised in The South in the 70s where no one locked their doors and people actually borrowed sugar from their neighbors. I tend to shrug off the idea that people will steal from me because, well, I wouldn’t steal from me!
Luckily no real damage was done. I actually didn’t even realize it was stolen until I went to grab my wallet when I went to pick-up my takeout Chinese food at Pine & Crane. The restaurant took pity on my moneyless-self and gave me my dinner on the house. I thought that was so nice; it made me believe in good people all over again. I got all these fuzzy feelings in my tummy at how nice they were about it.
In moments like these, I need comfort. And in my world that comfort comes in form of breakfast. This is what I like to think of as a summer porridge. Something you’d eat during the warmer months.
This recipe comes from the book, The Homemade Flour Cookbook, by Erin over at Naturally Ella. In this book, Erin explores the variety of ways you can grind your own flours at home. And, it includes a ton of recipes that focuses on those flours, seeds and even beans. I think it’s a really interesting book. I thumbed through most of the recipes and fell in love with this flax porridge with peaches. I love a good porridge but had yet to try one with flax in it.
Lots of hippie-dippie things are going on in the world right now and I figured we should talk about them.
To start, birkenstocks are back in style. I bought a white pair last week and I’m currently expecting their arrival. Pretty excited about ’em, you guys. I might even live on the edge and wear them with a cute pair of socks. Sue me.
And Tevas!! Also back in style. Not sure how I feel about this return. They kinda bring back some terrible 90s nightmares.
Speaking of Colorado-type things…granola! Grain-free granola is totally a thing. No grains. No gluten. And while we’re at it, no refined sugar. You would think I’d be leading you down a depressing healthy hole of complete nonsense but seriously this is my favorite granola in the entire world. Yes, I’m absolutely serious. There’s a good chance that after this I won’t ever return to oat-based granola. Why would I? I don’t need them. I have nuts like almonds, walnuts and macadamia, and seeds like sunflower and black sesame. And a bunch of delicious fruit like golden berries and goji berries.
I’m in love. Today’s post is my ode to granola-y-type things.
Last night I “slept” with rage in my heart and a pillow tightly pressed against my ear. Somewhere in the abyss, also known as the mini forest thingy right outside my bedroom window, was a dog that clearly was not happy about being put outside. So he or she barked. And then barked and barked for a solid four hours straight, maybe longer. At first I didn’t hear it but then it was ALL I could hear.
After hour one of said dog’s incessant barking, realizing it wasn’t going to end, I started to run down scenarios in my head.
Do I drive my car to the house and knock on the owner’s door at 3am?
Will they murder me? Do I call the police?
Do police even care about dogs barking?
Or do I just get ear plus because knocking on a stranger’s door at 3am sounds like a murder waiting to happen? Probably get ear plugs. Who likes confrontation? Not me. Poor dog.
If it happens again tonight I have no idea what I’ll do….ahh! What should I do?!
Amazing things always happen to me when I’m at Michael’s. This one time I saw a Marisa Tomei and I was freaking out because I grew up loving her. My Cousin Vinny? I was way too young to waatch it but that didn’t stop me from taking peeks from the hallway. I would do that as a kid: sneak out of room at night, sit in the hallway that allowed me to peer straight into the living room while still being out of sight, and watch the movies my parents watched. They had no idea that their “date for two” in front of the TV actually included a third wheel.
Then there was this other time that I saw an older gentlemen in a fly fisherman’s outfit have a meltdown because the coupon on his phone wasn’t working–it was a sight. And then yesterday, as I was shopping for candy-making materials, I turned around to see an old dude slap his wife’s behind. She laughed and playfully slapped him back. While it was a little awkward to witness, it actually made me smile. When you’re young it’s hard to imagine what being married for a long time must be like. Everything is so new and fresh and first-timey at this age. But when you’re older, perhaps flirting with each other is even more important.
I went on my run and thought about them, imagining how much life they’ve lived together, how many kids they’ve raised and wondered how many hardships they’ve survived. I do that sometimes: imagine people’s “stories.” I sometimes think going through that much life together can either tear you apart or bond you in a way that is unbreakable. We all wish for the latter. So, him slapping her ass made me happy is all…haha. It made me believe that perhaps love lasting a lifetime really can happen.
I came home and made a rendition of this smoothie bowl. It is, after all, what I have most days either immediately after my workout or for breakfast.
When I was in third grade I had in a role in my first play ever and it was my all-time favorite, Oliver Twist. I sadly was only given one line in the whole dang thing (I was gunning for the role of Dodger but didn’t get it) and that was, “Can I have some more porridge, please.”
I made sure to make my eyes look really sad and puppy dog-like and used the best fake English accent I could muster up. I’m pretty sure it was awful. I remember never really knowing what porridge was at the time, and honestly my opinion of it as I grew older was scarred from that experience. I figured it must’ve been awful if all “orphans” could get their hands on was a big bowl of mushy porridge.
Porridge has made a big 180 in my head. Porridge would be pressed to find a bigger fan. This porridge love story starts with persimmons, the other love of mine.
You know the bulk bin area at the grocery store? You know, the area where they have all the crazy nuts, different flours, dried fruits and oats. THAT place is my absolute favorite section.
I feel like my brain goes into overdrive and all I wanna do is try all sorts of stuff I’d never normally think to cook with. It’s inspiration central. It’s also the place where people loooove sticking their entire hands into the bins so they can try a little bit of this or that. WHY?! Not ok. As a society we should be a little better than this. I mean, at least use the scooper!
Right now I’m having a moment with freeze dried strawberries. I blame the astronaut ice cream I loved eating whenever we took family trips to the space museum. If you’re new to the world of freeze dried fruit, it has the same exact texture as the astro ice cream but a totally different flavor. Think strawberries in overdrive. Yes, it’s magical.
And it was the year I tried a juice cleanse (The Master Cleanse, to be exact), which resulted in 2007 also being the year I almost fainted. To ward off said faint spell, I then proceeded to successfully eat two burritos from Chipotle back-to-back. It was a successful year!
That year taught me a lot of things, the main one being that I’m not a cleanse person. I don’t succeed at doing cleanses. They don’t make me feel “refreshed and energetic and happy.” They make me a crazy ANGRY person. And since I’m what you call an emotional cutter, I’ll turn on the Food Network and ooo and ahhh at all the food–it’s torture. And I like it. Sick.
Instead of going on crazy cleanses, I make bran muffins. That’s my move.