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Sorry for the extended lull around here. Since last I posted, I packed up everything Nick and I own (did you know you can vacuum-pack with a regular vacuum and some garbage bags?), put it into five suitcases, brought said suitcases to the airport along with a cat in a small, cramped carrier, and flew across the continent to my ancestral home: New Jersey. I’ve officially moved back East!
Since I’ve been back at the Jersey shore, it’s been nothing but funerals and birthdays, including one birthday cake I would have shared with you had it not failed so miserably. It’s hard getting back into the swing of operating a stand mixer, it turns out!
I am settling in slowly, and my stuffed suitcases still sit in the kitchen of my mother’s house, where I’ve set up camp until I find an apartment in New York City (our ultimate destination), and where I wait anxiously for Nick to make his way east as well.
Recipes and pictures will come, I assure you, but not today. I do promise that I’ll be plotting my next culinary undertaking as I unpack my life, though. See you at the beach!
Ever go to the farmers’ market and find yourself guilted into buying something? Nick and I took a trip down to the Ladner Village Market to check out the scene–140 vendors sounded very interesting. We arrived to find, though, that most of those vendors were selling crafts or prepared foods, which isn’t exactly what we were looking for. Not wanting to have taken the hour-long bus ride for nothing (except some awesome fudge, which we knew would not make it home), we perused the market stalls for any hints of vegetation. I spied a lone woman at a tiny table, poster boards arranged presentation-style around her, and one plastic carton of something that appeared berry-like. I sidled up to her, and she seemed quite happy to have someone to give her spiel to. She was representing a non-profit farm, she explained, that gave area youths an opportunity to learn to grow produce and earn a bit of cash. They were having a bike tour next week, she offered, and maybe we could come along? Nick’s hand being what it is, we had to decline, but I couldn’t bear to walk away without purchasing something. “Are these currants?” I asked. They were, $6 for a very generous pound. Nick asked when the last time we had currants was, and I realized, never. I’d had currant-flavored juice, jam, candies, but never an actual currant. I never liked those other forms, but I thought, why not? I’ll figure out something to do with them. (more…)
