Well hello there! The Professor and I have been traveling these past six weeks on a summer abroad session with 14 college students to Italy; it was exciting, it was fun, it was a learning experience and if I’m being honest, it was, at times, bone-tired exhausting.
This Thursday, May 21st, is National Hummus Day and as a Sabra Tastemaker, you knew I’d be writing about hummus this week, right?
I cannot believe a week has passed since we landed in Italy. Our time in Milan and seeing the Expo will absolutely the highlight of our year; it truly is a spectacular event and if you have an opportunity to visit, please don’t miss it.
6:30am. We slept with the windows open last night and wrinkled white cotton sheets cover our bodies. I hear the birds first; their songs float like notes of wind chimes in the air.
It appears I’m always running behind – from current fashion trends to food-centric holidays with Cinco de Mayo being no exception.
I have spring on my mind even if Mother Nature isn’t quite cooperating; we enjoy a handful of glorious days with perfect temperatures and Robin’s Egg blue skies and 48 hours later it’s overcast and gloomy.
I’ve been gluten-free for more than three years now and in the beginning, I’ll admit to being a bit apprehensive about navigating the gluten-free world.
Just a super quick recipe post for you today – and it also happens to be one of our favorites: Curried Broccoli-Cheddar Tart with Bacon.
The Professor and I were in New Orleans last week – it was the first time either of us had visited this fabulous city and by the end of the week, we were both smitten.
I love a great chip, don’t you? Potato chips, veggie chips, corn chips and tortilla chips. Chips with ridges, kettle-cooked, salt and vinegar, black pepper, nacho-cheese and barbecued – I have enjoyed my fair share of chips and dips over the years. We’ve been brand ambassadors for Toufayan Bakeries for a few years and I’m being sincere when I say that we love their products!
Doughnuts. The mere mention of doughnuts and my knees grow weak; glazed, frittered, cream-filled, jelly-filled, cinnamon dusted, powder sugar dusted, nut-topped, plain, fried or baked, I’ll admit to being an equal opportunity eater of all things doughnuts. My uncle Jimmy was a professional baker who worked long hours at a local grocery store chain for many years until his retirement; cookies, chocolate cupcakes, decorated cakes, pies and doughnuts were always available – and one free sugar cookie was always given to the littles – fat chubby hands greedily reaching for a perfectly round, sugar-sprinkled confection.
I’ve been fortunate to have traveled to Italy five times in the last 18 years; my first trip was a two-week stint with a group of fellow college students as part of a team to help renovate an apartment space for a pastor of a local church in Rome.
It all started with meatballs and a piece written by an extroverted freelance writer with a desire to gather friends, family and strangers around her table and to share food and build community.
‘There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.’ ~Ruth Stout © 2015, Debra.
Deflate-gate, the unexpected and sudden loss of a beloved member of our food community and the snowpocalypse that wasn’t (at least in New York) – it’s not a stretch to say that it’s been a roller-coaster couple of weeks.
It’s a gray day here in the Midwest and I find myself pulling inward, desiring to get quiet and create – to write, to try a new recipe, to paint a wall.
Some Sunday mornings The Professor and I attend a country church just across the street from our house; some Sunday mornings we sleep late, wake slowly, have random conversations while still in bed.
It snowed last night – the first real snow of the winter with six or seven inches of the frozen white stuff on the ground; I laughed out loud when local friends posted photos on Facebook showing completely bare shelves where bread was once stacked - ditto for milk.
I didn’t understand the ‘macaron craze’ for a very long time – didn’t quite get the obsession of a baked meringue cookie with, what I thought, was a filling similar to an oreo cookie.
As I’m certain is true for most of the U.S., we like pizza in this house and in fact, have pizza at least once a week at the old Smith Bites Homestead.