Remember how when you were little you would play house? For my best friend and I it was the shed in my back yard. It was the acre of property behind her cabin. It was a silly game with make believe husbands and baby dolls that were anatomically correct (weird and awesome).
My mom has this video of me playing on my plastic toy kitchen. She comes into the room and asks what I am doing. I glance over at her with an agitated look and motion to the bright yellow phone and silently word, “I’m on the phone!”
I was (am?) a brat.
I was (am) a homebody.
To me, comfort is coming home to a place that invites you in. A place to leave your shoes on the front porch. Somewhere with soft cushions and a familiar smell.
Here I am in this city of heat, this city of unexpected thunder storms and quiet morning runs on wide, sidewalk free streets. I have found a tiny little place to make a tiny little home with a not so tiny or little man. The paint is peeling, and the house leans. The bathroom is a size of a closet and I think we have a resident mouse. The large, white trimmed windows rattle as you struggle to get them open. The concrete fence holds little windows to the street, and long, thin garden beds wait for cool fall crops.
I plan my days around walks, farming, yoga and this man. I plan my days with growing vegetables and planning dinner menus.
Sitting on the floor, we eat out of brightly colored bowls.
My house is a home because of him. Because of the hound dog that darts to the back fence because he saw a squirrel there once. Because I bike home to find a boy sitting on my counter reading John Irving because he can. This new cottage is my home because I am filling it with things that make my heart calm.
We have a habit of toasting to things that are our “firsts”. Our first trip to the grocery store. Our first bike ride. Our first shared trash can, shared bed, shared life.
So when we sat down to our first meal (on the ground, using a goodwill chest for a table), we raised our bourbon and whiskey to us.
To our tiny house, our surprising love and this newness that came out of nowhere and has settled deep in our bodies.
Kale and Mushroom Tacos
In the land of Texas, tacos and burritos have become an almost daily habit… delicious.
– Flour or corn tortillas
– Can of black beans
– Spanish rice
– 1 tbsp vegetable or olive oil
– small yellow or white onion
– red bell pepper
– 2 ears of corn
– mushroom of choice (we used crimini)
– 1 bunch of kale (once again, your choice)
– 2 cloves garlic
– 1 tbsp cumin
– 1 tsp salt
– 1 tsp chipotle cayenne powder
– Red pepper hummus (we bought ours, as I have yet to get a food processor, and can’t make mine)
– Jalapeno jelly (gifted from the farm, I will tackle this one come jalapeno season)
– Ripe avocado
Start spanish rice. Heat beans and tortillas. Chop up the onions, peppers and corn. Heat the oil in a pan and add the veggies. Saute and add in salt, cayenne and cumin. Stir until onion is soft and translucent. Add in chopped up mushrooms and garlic. Saute for a few minutes, adding the kale is last. Wilt the kale for a minute or two. Lay out a tortilla, spread on the hummus and the jalapeno jelly and then pack with all of that goodness until you can’t seem to fit anymore onto such a tiny little tortilla. I always put a slice or two of avocado on the top, because what is a taco without avocado?