Frittata and Adulthood

I’m attempting to be an adult. Do all those things that grownups do. Put away a percentage of my paycheck, talk about the stock market, get pre-approved for a house. You know, general adult-ing. Perhaps it’s because I’m going to be 30 at the end of the year. Perhaps it’s because my brother and sister-in-law brought a little human into the world that has become my everything. Whatever it is, there’s something in the air that’s telling me to plant roots. Instead of trying to scheme what’s next, I’m attempting to slow down and find my footing.

I have always been proud of my determination and drive. I won’t take no for an answer, and it’s something that has brought me a lot of amazing opportunities. I will continue to get loud about the things that matter. I will continue to push and create and dream big. That is just who I am, and some things never change.

This new version is just a little more settled. A little more content with the idea of building a home in a new town surrounded by the people I love more than anything. I’ve always felt that I had to wait for everything to be perfect. I haven’t found my dream man, I don’t know if I want kids, and I am not sure if I have enough money to be considered a real adult… I’m an incomplete puzzle.

It recently dawned on me that I shouldn’t wait around for those things to fall into place. Who knows if any one man will live up to that extremely high bar I’ve set. Who knows if I’ll finally fall into the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ camp of motherhood. Who knows if my savings account will ever be considered robust.

That’s just life, I suppose.

All I know is that there’s a little house waiting for me in a sleepy city south of Seattle. A house with a big yard and sun stained floors. I told my real estate agent that I require 3 things: natural light, a big yard, and a neighborhood I love. The rest? The rest I can fix.

The house I’m working on buying is perfection. It’s a tiny home on a street that is a mile from my family and my best friend. A house that has been lovingly cared for by a man who tends to his garden daily, making friends with hummingbirds and neighborhood crows. He told me the lawn smells like honeysuckle on summer evenings. To say I’m excited to brew sun tea and smell the air this summer is an understatement.

I’m ready to make a home for myself. I’ll let the rest of my unmatched pieces do their own thing… I’ll figure it out, eventually.

One step at a time.

Asparagus and Mushroom Frittata

I did the whole30 in April, which means my life was full of vegetables, fruit, eggs, and seafood. It was delicious and wonderful, but I was ready for some chickpeas, quinoa, chocolate, and whiskey to be placed in my mouth. It’s weird what you crave when you restrict your diet. Chickpeas?! Who knew I loved those little legumes so much.

But back to eggs. God love ‘em, after 30 straight days of hard boiled eggs as your go-to, you get egg fatigue REAL fast. Enter: The frittata, a wonderfully easy meal that hits the spot. Because it’s spring in Seattle, everything delicious is showing up at the Ballard Farmers Market. This frittata was a hodge-podge of all the spring goodness, and it turned out delicious. Feel free to substitute whatever kind of vegetable your heart desires, it’s hard to mess up this dish.

Ingredients

  • 6 eggs
  • 1 Tbsp olive oil
  • ½ white onion
  • 2 gloves garlic
  • ½ bunch asparagus
  • 1 cup chopped mushrooms
  • 2 cups chopped kale
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 Tbsp nutritional yeast (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Warm the olive oil in a cast iron pan over medium heat. Saute onion in olive oil for 3 minutes, until slightly translucent. Add in minced garlic and sauté for another 2-3 minutes. Chop off the ends of the asparagus and cut into bite size pieces. Throw in the pan with the garlic and onion. Once soft, add in the mushrooms and saute for another couple of minutes. Lastly, add in the kale and wilt slightly. Pop in the oven for 20-25 minutes, remove and let cool slightly. Once cool enough to eat without burning the top of your mouth (I do it every.damn.time) sprinkle with nutritional yeast and enjoy!

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Samosas and Vulnerability

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the stars. Last week was the Perseid meteor shower. These showers recur each year when the earth passes through the debris trail of the Swift-Tuttle comet. Although I missed watching them fall, I have decided that I felt them—deep in my belly.

We are created from stardust, after all (hopelessly romantic if you ask me.)

The few days the comets were around us, things in my life felt heavy. Like I was pulling a large suitcase everywhere I went. The people around me were on edge, drama and negativity was created out of thin air, and I felt my teeth clench at simple things.

It was that kind of week.

As I wandered around in this haze of thick air, I found myself doing what I always do: over analyzing. Why was this happening? What did it stem from? Who could fix it? I deal with my natural anxiety and type-A personality by compartmentalizing and putting things into lists and boxes. Situation B was happening because I hadn’t put enough energy into List A. etc. etc. etc.

The wheels just keep spinning.

It was like a sigh of relief when my darling friend Jess said, “It’s the meteor shower. That’s why everything is off.” Just like that she had planted the conclusion in my head that the root cause of all of it was simply because we were passing through a cloud of space particles. For some reason this gave my heavy energy a purpose, a reason for existing.

So yes, I am going to let more of my feelings stem from whatever energy the universe has decided to give to me. Last week it was bizarre and heavy. This week feels more grounded. More centering. I found myself in yoga this morning, smiling as sweat ran in rivulets down my legs. The teacher had asked us to focus on something that we felt we had been ignoring. To tune into one word that would become our mantra for the hour. For her, it was playfulness. For me, it was vulnerability.

I think that for right now I am in a place of balance. A space of letting go and healing, with a few less walls and little bit more spontaneity seeping under my skin. I am trying to let emotions be what they are, nothing more, nothing less. Who said vulnerability has to be negative? Scary as all hell, absolutely… but so much is to be learned from allowing yourself to feel stripped down and taking ownership of whatever remains.

All of this self-realization because of a few falling stars—who knew?

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Spring Samosas with Mint Chutney

The weather is so warm in Austin that my garden consists of basil, mint and rosemary. I also have neglected growing things, and will hopefully find some motivation to get my hands dirty soon. Until then, I will seek out recipes that use mint and basil. This one is a winner. The flavors in the samosas are amazing and I love that they are gluten free as I’ve recently discovered that my stomach is so much happier when I stay away from wheat. This recipe is adapted from My New Roots, which is basically one of my bibles.

Samosas

  • 8 rice paper wraps

Filling

  • 1 spoonful of coconut oil
  • 1 medium onion
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 1 tsp. minced ginger
  • ¾ tsp salt
  • ½ cup unsalted, unroasted cashews
  • 3 medium carrots
  • 1 ½ cup green peas
  • ½ cup corn
  • 1 cup chickpeas
  • 2 cups baby spinach

Spices

  • ½ Tbsp cumin
  • 2 tsp mustard powder
  • ½ tsp turmeric
  • ½ tsp coriander
  • ¼ tsp cardamom
  • 1/8 tsp cinnamon
  • dash of cayenne

Preheat oven to 400 degree F.

In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast cashews until lightly golden. Remove from heat, roughly chop and set aside. Dice the onion and carrots to about the size of the peas.

Heat the coconut oil in a frying pan and add the onion, spices and minced ginger. Cook for five minutes and then add in the garlic. Cook for a couple of minutes, then add in the carrots. Stir to coat with spices, cook for five minutes, add in the peas, corn and chickpeas. Remove from heat and stir in the spinach, coconut and cashews.

If you haven’t worked with rice paper here’s a short run down. Fill a flat bottomed bowl or shallow dish with a couple inches of water. One at a time, place the rice paper wrap in the water and let if soften. Usually, you’ll want to wait until they soften completely. However, because you’re baking them, you just want them to be pliable, otherwise they’ll split when they’re baking. Just leave them in there for a minute or so, and when you pull the paper out you still want to see the pattern on the surface.

After you remove them from the water, place it on a clean, flat surface. Using a sharp knife, slice the circle in half. On both halves spoon a generous heap of the delicious filling. Fold the bottom corner about a third of the way up the round side of the half, followed by the top corner to meet the base of the fold you just made—if that doesn’t make any sense to you, just make a triangle out of the paper and call it a day.

Repeat until you have 16 of these bad boys. Or, if you aren’t making them for a party or a giant family, just keep the extra filling in the fridge and make these bad boys for the next few days.

After you have put together all of your samosas, melt about a tablespoon of coconut oil in a small saucepan. Lightly brush the tops of the samosas with a tiny bit of oil. Put them in the oven for 10 minutes, remove and flip over to crisp on the other side. Bake for another 10 minutes until they are lightly browned and crisp. Remove and serve with the mint chutney (recipe below).

Mint Chutney

  • 2 cups firmly packed mint leaves (no stems)
  • 1 clove garlic
  • 1 tsp minced ginger
  • 2 dates
  • Dash of cayenne pepper
  • ¼ cup freshly squeezed lime juice
  • 2 Tbsp. olive oil
  • Salt to taste

Wash the mint leaves to remove dirt, spin dry. In a food processor, pulse the garlic, ginger and cayenne to mince. Add in the dates, mint leaves, lime juice and olive oil. Blend on high until smooth and creamy. Add salt to taste. Add more olive oil to thin, if necessary.

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