Let Them See You

10 . 20 . 11

I was seventeen, Shaun was closing in on nineteen when we went to the cabin. The idea wasn’t our own, rather a gentle nudge from a friend who knew we needed that trip more than we realized at the time. I’m thankful for his wisdom. Although we had been dating for nearly a year, I don’t think it was until that trip that we really saw each other. Saw each other’s heart; the joy and pain and the fear that lay tucked beneath the surface, the façade we for different reasons clung to.

There were swings at the cabin, up the hill from lakeshore. It was barely raining that day, and we sat on the swings and let the wind fill the silence between us. We were both confused. I remember starting to cry, feeling that nudge again coming with the rain.  Shaun turned to me and said “you’ve got to let me in.”

I attempted to start this post with a question, how many people in your life really see you? Following it with another, now how many people do you really see? I felt stuck — wanting to make a point about how often we go through the weeks and months surrounded by people believing we see them and know them, when in reality we don’t really at all. But that would be the obvious question.

I dropped Shaun off at the airport earlier in the morning and felt a pang of sadness that we will be spending another one of his birthdays apart. The morning was crisp when we hugged goodbye, and the clouds considered a bout of rain. I drove away and thought of the cabin. Five years. It felt like a long time ago. I thought about how far we’ve come as individuals, as a couple. I thought about what today would have been like if we had put off that trip to Alaska and his grandparents cabin.

The better question is this, who do you let see you? Why do you (we) hold back from allowing people to really see us for who we really are? We must work to be present and truly see others, but we must also work to trust that it’s okay to let others see our own true selves too. It’s scary. I know. But we may be seen when we let ourselves be seen. Maybe not always, but when we do, there will be opportunity and occasion for people who do want to see us, and we will not feel alone.

Click here to keep reading for recipe…  (more…) «Let Them See You»

To make Pumpkin Gnocchi, you’ve got to use your inherent culinary intuition. Pumpkins come in all shapes and sizes, so it’s difficult to quantify ingredients without knowing the variety you’ve chosen and how much it will yield. Here are some rough guidelines:

Pumpkin Gnocchi

  • 1/2 of one med/large cooking pumpkin, we like Musquee De Provence
  • 2 (ish) cups of unbleached white whole wheat flour
  • 1 egg, or 2 if your pumpkin gives you more than 2 cups puree
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • 4 tbsp butter
  • 2 tbsp olive oil
  • A few sprigs of thyme
  • (optional) freshly grated parmesan

Cut open your pumpkin and scoop out the seeds and stringy bits. Wrap one half, and store for later. Cut remaining half into slices like you would a cantaloupe. Depending on your variety, you may be able to peel the skin, otherwise carefully remove with a knife and cut skinless pumpkin into 1″ cubes.

Toss pumpkin into a large saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook until just softened, adding more water if necessary. Strain softened pumpkin into a large colander, and again through a fine mesh sieve a few cups at a time, pressing out the liquid with a wooden spoon or spatula. Resturn mashed pumpkin to the dry saucepan and add a pat or two of butter. Return to the stove over low heat for about 5 minutes to just melt the butter and evaporate the remaining water. Transfer to a food processor and blitz until smooth. While blitzing, bring a large pot of water to a boil.

Turn pureed pumpkin into a large bowl. Add egg(s) and salt and pepper before folding in the flour, 1/2 cup at a time. When you have added enough flour to produce a dough like consistency and forms a ball, turn out the ball onto a floured surface and knead a few times, adding a bit of flour if needed, until the dough no longer sticks to your hands. Take a small section of the dough and roll out into a thin rope. Cut into 1″ sections and make indents on four sides with a wet fork. Repeat with remaining dough. Warning, this makes A LOT. Place half of the finished gnocchi on a floured baking sheet and freeze for up to two hours before placing them together in a freezer bag.

Place gnocchi a dozen at a time in the boiling water. Cook until they all float to the top. Meanwhile, bring a saucepan with butter, olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme to medium heat until the butter melts and you’ve coaxed the aroma out of the herbs. Set aside. Repeat boil process with remaining gnocchi. Toss in the butter/oil mixture, and enjoy.

Here and There, Surprises

09 . 13 . 11

You’re probably thinking, didn’t we just see a new post from this girl? Yes. Two posts in one week. They say the busier you get the more you get done, right? We created this video to help Megan at The Fresh Exchange celebrate the surprise announcement of her new creative venture (today! see more here).  Megan is awesome — someone I would like to call friend in real life sometime soon, she’s a young seeker too.

As I’ve shared in our “contact” drop down, before starting this blog I was admittedly anti social-media. People need people, not computers. Nothing replaces real human connection and relationships, but I’ve learned over the past year that social networks, blogs, and digital media actually do bring people closer together. This space has served as reinforcement to my fundamental belief that we are not alone; there are thousands of people who share similar passions, interests, and goals. Together, we can be better, do better, and inspire new ideas and new ways to look at the world.

If you’re a creative, blogger, or just looking for new friends, hop on over to The Fresh Exchange  for a bit of inspiration and the recipe to these sweet and spicy macaroons adapted from Rebecca Katz in the Cancer Fighting Kitchen.

It’s Good to Be Three

04 . 11 . 11

During times of inordinate stress, pressure, or change, I find that more than any amount of yoga or breathing, the best meditative practice is simply the act of remembering. Remembering is an act of the heart. It gathers the images and energy of the people we associate with the past experience, and we cannot help to feel a pang of gratitude that we were there to share that specific moment in time together. It’s a practice we can do anywhere, anytime. Driving home from work, checking out books from the library, making the bed… you get the idea. We bring these memories into focus and suddenly the many worries and preoccupations of our day fade to the background. The wisdom of friends, family, and strangers who occupy these memories should remind us that the love and admiration we feel for them is reciprocal – they love and believe in us just the same.

Some of the most powerful memories we can access, especially during times of self-doubt or criticism, are the ones of our younger and enthusiastic selves. As children, we were not buried deep in worry, restraint, or stress. Our full time jobs were to explore a world in its limitless intricacies. We were constantly seeking, questioning, creating, laughing, and enjoying.

When I think of myself at three or four years old I see a little girl who was uninhibited, and free. She beamed with light and exuberance, and felt blissfully content to be who she was. The words “you can’t” were not in her vocabulary yet and she was assured that the entire world was at her fingertips.

I remember that girl. She was amazing. I remember her smile, her confidence, and certainty. But then I realize… hey, that girl is me! That same spirit and lightheartedness still lives inside of me. I can still be free like her; and so can you. We should remember the energy and lightness of our childhood and give ourselves permission to cultivate it in our seemingly constrained lives. Conjuring the memory of such a lightness and warmth can even be enough to push you up the hill on a hard day.

Carrot cake is a dessert that brings together the best memories of my both my childhood and of my mother. All twenty-one of my birthdays  (which is actually in December) have been celebrated with an original carrot cake recipe that she has saved from the 80s. When I emailed her asking for the recipe last week I think she was probably expecting me to completely transform it into a fat-free sugar-free relative. But I couldn’t – memories associated with this keepsake are of an auspicious nature, and I needed to (mostly) maintain its integrity if for no ones sake but my own. A few tweaks to the icing and oils, but otherwise pretty darn accurate. For me, carrot cake celebrates life, love, remembrance, and the many more memories to be made in the future. May it bring you a moment of lightness and tenderness in the way it did for me this weekend.

For the cake:

  • 3/4 cups raw sugar
  • 2 cups gluten free all purpose baking flour
  • 1 tsp baking soda
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp sea salt
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 2/3 cup melted coconut oil
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 tsp pure vanilla
  • 2 1/2 heaping cups grated carrots
  • 1 cup chopped walnuts
  • 1 1/2 cups crushed pineapple, strained
  • (optional) 1 cup of raisins

For the glaze: (adapted from Roost blog)

  • 1 cup reduced fat coconut milk
  • 1/4 cup coconut oil
  • 1/2 cup brown rice syrup
  • shredded unsweetened coconut

Preheat the oven to 350′. In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. Set aside. In a larger bowl, beat the eggs and add the sugar. Slowly beat in the coconut oil, vanilla, and pineapple. Add the flower mixture and stir gently with a rubber spatula until just incorporated. Finally, stir in the carrots and walnuts. I decided to make these in mini loaf molds, but it would also work in large loaf or round pans. Depending on your preference, grease your pan(s) and fill to 3/4 full with cake batter. Bake for 25-30 minutes.Remove from oven and let cool before drizzling with coconut glaze

For the icing, mix together melted coconut oil, coconut milk and brown rice syrup until it forms an even consistency. Pour into a small glass container and freeze for 45 min to an hour. Enjoy over hot cake and a happy heart. I titled this dessert, but who am I kidding… Shaun and I ate it for dinner… (smile)

Let's get in Touch

I wish I could make coffee dates with you all. In the meantime, feel free to drop me a line with questions, comments, concerns, or just to say Hi. I like that. There is nothing more uplifting than an email from a a fresh contact or kindred spirit.

I can be reached through this contact form and at happyolks [at] gmail [dot] com.