It draws attention to to you not posting for a while, and that is bad. People will stop following. Ugh, I think we’ve past that point so, I’m going to be up front about it as I prefer transparency. While I admittedly neglected this blog for a bit, it never felt over to me. I’ve just been on sabbatical.

It has been just over 10 years since I started writing this blog, which is shocking. I wasn’t trying to be famous. I didn’t want to be known or an “influencer” (whatever that is). At first, it was just a way to let my family and friends know what was going on with me after I moved to Amsterdam.

Then it evolved into a place for me to share good recipes, go on neurotic rants, worship spicy things and Texas, tell stories about people in my life, cartoon-ishly personify food items, offer a mea culpa from time to time, work through personal stuff, create a diary of my travels, and, on occasion, share too much information.

If it interests the masses, supercalifragilisticexpialadocious. If not, fine by me. I’ll still do it for as long as possible.

Each post takes approximately 10-15 hours. From beginning to end, creating a blog post entails conceptualization, brainstorming, planning, shopping for ingredients and tools (if required), testing the recipe in the slowest motion possible to allow time for photos at each stage of the process, editing all those photos, cleaning up, eating the food, tweaking and finalizing the recipe, writing the intro story, and getting it up on the blog to be published. Even more time is needed if the recipe is enough of a failure to necessitate another trial.

It’s an investment, but one that gives me immense joy. And it’s a bonus when it gives y’all joy too.

The “writing the intro story” part (such as what you are reading right now) has been holding me back for the last couple years.

It is not an easy task and requires a burst of inspiration that fuels the post. So if I have a great recipe but no bursting stories to tell, then I don’t do a post. I’ve had a stack of recipe ideas for three years scattered across Post-its, scraps of paper, a few dozen Text Edit files, and a multitude of emails to myself, but very few inspirational bursts. Usually I come up with my best ideas in the shower, which is challenging in itself because there is NEVER anything to write on in there! But the last few years, even my showers have been idea-less.

About three years ago, my life turned upside down. It felt like I was being shaken outside a window by my pinkie toe, until everything I had was released from my grasp. Back to ground zero.

In the aftermath, there wasn’t much head space left for creative exploration.

I lost my voice like Shania Twain.

Well, not EXACTLY like Shania. She literally lost her voice. I could still talk, but I couldn’t write. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t create. I couldn’t be free. My creative pathways were severed and as Dr. McDreamy said, “they need time to find new pathways”. All my available brain power was focused on climbing back to normalcy and stability.

Now, I’m happy to say I’ve got my groove back like Stella.

I’ve got a few posts on simmer and hope to entertain and feed y’all for a good long while. I will not be back to posting every week like the good old days, but that is because I’m tied up conquering the world. Like a GIRL!!

So where do we go from here, now that I’ve drowned you in soul-bearing movie theater nacho cheese?

If you’re still with me, I want to tell you a little about today’s recipe: Broccoli, Tuna, Parmigiana, and Lemon Pasta. I know that’s a long unflashy name, but all 5 of those things deserve equal footing and I couldn’t think of anything catchy. Do not take it out on the pasta.

I learned a version of this from someone I used to know that I don’t like very much, but at least I got this pasta. Kind of ironic because this pasta helped me recover from said person.

The original had tons of chopped garlic and arugula instead of broccoli. Now you’re probably thinking, “I kept going after all the feelings and confessions and now she tells us that she thought taking out the garlic was a GOOD idea?! And she replaced it with broccoli?! I’M OUT. She’s gone too far. Let’s boycott her advertisers.” Jokes on you. I don’t have advertisers.

Just shut the door when you leave…

For those still here, so I took out the garlic. Why? Because of pure laziness. This pasta is easy to make and the garlic ruined that minimal effort thing I usually look for when I’m too busy, lazy, depleted or just plain craving-it kind of mood. Chopping and stickiness and peeling. NO. I don’t even use a cutting board for this shit.

In betwixt all of the business world conquering and rebuilding mental health, I have had very little time for hassle. Therefore, when it is time for nourishment, I need to go from zero to delicious in the shortest amount of time possible.

So, in an evolution purely motivated by trying to eat more vegetables and less pasta (because I’m in my 30s) and reducing dirty dishes, the final version became this and I ADORE IT.

It is important to note that this recipe is for one super hungry person (or two non-gluttonous people). Measuring is not required and highly discouraged. I also implore you to mess with it and make it yours. Replace the broccoli with arugula or cauliflower or Swiss chard or spinach. Add crushed red pepper. Mix up the cheeses. Change the pasta cut. Maybe don’t add tuna at all. Or add the garlic back in and make up for my blasphemy.

Without further ado, I give you “The First Recipe in a Good Long While”.

broccoli, tuna, parmigiana and lemon pasta recipe

• A couple big handfuls (about 80g) of short cut pasta (I prefer fusilli or farfalle, but have also used penne, pepe rigate, and even spaghetti and bucatini broken into thirds.)
• 1 can of high-quality tuna
• Extra virgin olive oil
• A couple big handfuls of broccoli, cut into florets then quartered. Use the trunk and the leaves too, they are deeeelicious. They just need to be cut into small enough pieces where they cook in 1-2 minutes max to preserve flavor and their pretty green color.
• Juice of 1 lemon
• Black pepper
• Salt
• A lot of grated parmigiana, grana padano or another hard aged cheese, you pick the amount

In a small-ish pot (as this is for one), boil water. When it starts to boil, salt the water generously so that the pasta is seasoned. While the water boils, you can cut up the broccoli and prepare the sauce. The broccoli should be thin-ish (as seen below) so they cook in just a couple minutes, if not less.

In a small sauce pan, warm olive oil over low heat. How much? I use a small saute pan and add enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan so maybe like 3 to 4-ish tablespoons. Add tuna and cook on low until crispy on one side. Then flip the tuna, and let cook a couple minutes then turn off the heat. My tuna tends to pop and splatter, so recommend covering with a lid or screen to keep your stove pristine.

Add lots of freshly ground black pepper and sprinkle of salt. Once it’s cooled a little and is no longer sizzling, add lemon juice. Set aside until pasta is done.

Cook the pasta for 8-9 minutes, until just before pasta reaches al dente. Add the broccoli.

Once the broccoli is fork tender (which only takes about 1-2 minutes) and pasta is al dente, take off the heat and drain.

Throw the broccoli, pasta, and tuna-lemon-olive oil concoction into the pot. Stir it until the sauce is absorbed by the pasta and tuna breaks up. You could totally add more olive oil at this stage. Do what you feel is right for you.

Layer into a bowl with loads of grated parmigiana reggiano or grana padano. Do it, go nuts. I find that layering better melts the cheese giving it a gooey almost-baked pasta feel. By layering I mean, in your vessel of choice put some hot pasta, then a layer of cheese, then some hot pasta, then a layer of cheese, then some hot pasta, and top with, you guessed it, a layer of cheese.

For those not familiar, the story is centered around US Marshall Raylan Givens (played by the handsome Timothy Olyphant) with an affinity for ice cream whom returns to his place of birth in Kentucky where he fights hillbilly crime in his own eccentric manner. Hilarity ensues.

There are many reasons to like, if not love, the show. I’ll share just a small handful of the reasons I adore it so.

First, let’s get this out up front. Timothy Olyphant is perfection, with his swagger, Stetson and sass.

You know Boyd, I’ve been there. And I bet, you have too.

“Quit bein’ so ornery. I’m fixin’ to make some jalapena poppers and potata salad.”

Being on the other side of the world from my Texas roots does generate a bit of homesickness for Southern hospitality from time to time.

One of the ways I scratch that itch is by chatting up a fellow Southerner, when one crosses my path. Gives my drawl an opportunity to stretch its legs after a long hibernation. Once it’s released, the muscles relax and I feel that sense of home again.

When I’m feeling particularly distant and yearning for the familiar and there are no Southerners in sight, I turn to Justified. And then, like Pavlov’s dog, drool suddenly drips down my chin at the show’s first mention of food.

Catfish and hush puppies. Biscuits and gravy. Pie and ice cream. Mashed potatoes. Ribs. Fried okra. Creamed corn. Pulled pork. And of course, fried chicken, which we’ve already spent some time chatting about.

And thus, the hankerin’ must be satisfied.

Chicken must be fried, potatoes must be mashed, biscuits must be baked. Roasted chicken gravy is mandatory, as I prefer it to the cream variety. Perhaps some greens will be cooked up too, simmered slowly with pork. Any kind of pork, because it’s pork and pork is delicious.

After the first bite, I’m home again. Because for me, home is where the biscuits and gravy are.

Get ready! I’ve got 3 fabulous recipes for you. Let’s do this.

Roasted Chicken Stock Recipe

3 whole chicken carcasses (if not making fried chicken [which you should], ask your butcher)
4 large carrots, cut into large chunks
2 large onions, yellow or red, cleaned and quartered with the root attached
1/3 c red wine or apple cider vinegar
2 heads garlic, cut in half along the round middle
1 bunch parsley
6 stalks celery or 1 c celery root, cut into chunks or 1 big bunch celery root leaves
12 or so whole black peppercorns
2 bay leaves
Filtered water

For the roasted chicken stock

Preheat the oven to 375F (190C). On a large sheet pan (not lined), roast the chicken carcasses for 1 hour, turning half way through.

After 1 hour, turn carcasses again then add the carrots and onions to the pan. Continue roasting for another 30 minutes or until chicken is caramelized, but not charred.

Transfer chicken, vegetables and all other ingredients to a large pot. De-glaze roasting pan with red wine vinegar while it is still piping hot and scrape up all the good chicken bits.

Why vinegar? Couple of reasons. Vinegar adds a great flavor to a stock. Subtle yet adds a hint of bite you can’t quite put your finger on. Also, vinegar helps draw all the goodness out of the bones much easier than without it.

Add the vinegar, drippings and all the chicken bits to the pot as well.

Add enough water to cover the chicken and vegetables by at least a couple inches. Simmer on the lowest flame or setting for 3 hours. Stock should never come to a boil or even a simmer. You should only see sparse bubbles floating to the top. Like Ron Popeil says, “set it and forget it”. There I go dating myself again. Yikes.

After about 3 hours, the stock should be a caramelly-brown. Yes, that is a technical cooking term.

Using tongs, remove and discard the chicken carcasses and vegetables then strain the stock. For a nice clear stock, I line a strainer with cheesecloth.

This is enough stock for several uses. In addition to gravy, you could make at least 1 or two soups, use it to cook up rice, make a pan sauce. If not using right away, store in freezer bags. Make sure to press as much air out as you can then lie flat in the freezer until solid.

Roasted Chicken Gravy Recipe

3 tbsp unsalted butter
3 tbsp all purpose flour
3 c roasted chicken stock
salt and pepper

For the roasted chicken gravy

Before you get started, make sure you have the stock warmed in a separate pot.

Combine flour and butter in a sauce pan. Once butter is melted, whisk together with flour frequently until it begins to darken and smell nutty. This is called a roux and will help thicken our gravy. Below is what the roux should look like once done.

While the stock is still hot, slowly ladle the stock into the roux while whisking to prevent lumps. After you’ve added two thirds of the stock, stop and spend a few minutes whisking the gravy to ensure there are no lumps.

Add the rest of the stock then season with salt and pepper. Let gravy simmer on medium-low heat, whisking frequently, until thickened as desired, about 5 to 7 minutes.

Texas Biscuit Recipe

Makes 6-8 biscuits
1/8 c baking powder
2 1/4 c all purpose flour
1/8 c sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 c lard
3/4 c unsalted butter, cold
3/4 c plus 1/8 c buttermilk

For the Texas biscuits

Preheat oven to 375G (190C). Combine all dry ingredients into a large bowl.

Cut the butter and lard into the dry ingredients using a pastry cutter or two knives until butter pieces are size of peas. Yes, you could use your fingers, which I often recommend for scenarios such as this. However, lard is very soft and it’ll just be easier with a tool in this case.

Add milk and mix just until combined.

Heavily dust your counter with flour. Dump out the dough, then dust that with flour. Roll out dough to about an inch thick. Try to keep it a rectangular shape.

Fold half the dough onto the other half, then roll out again. Repeat this process 4-5 more times until dough is smooth. For final roll, dough should be at least 1 1/4″ thick.

Cut out biscuits using a cookie cutter (preferred) or a glass. Why is a cookie cutter preferred? This dough is leavened with layer after layer of butter and lard, which we created by rolling and folding the dough. We want to preserve those layers as best we can so our biscuit will rise nicely and evenly. If the edges of your cutting tool are dull (like a drinking glass), then the edges of your biscuit will be smashed down instead of cleanly cut, hampering your biscuit’s rise around the perimeter.

Place biscuits on a parchment paper or Silpat-lined baking sheet. Brush biscuits with milk, cream or melted butter. Bake biscuits for 20 minutes or until golden brown on the top.

Hear are some other stock and bread recipes.

In the first week of the year, we are determined to compose a list of promises detailing how we are going to approach the coming 365 days of life. But, how can we expect to keep our resolutions to be better, new improved people when our homes are full of the past year’s baggage.

Let’s agree to reschedule this so-called “spring cleaning”.

As the the days in December started running out, my freezer was full of leftovers I swore I’d eat later. I even told myself “this will save me money and time on a night when I’m too busy to cook” when my very next thought was “I’m tired of eating this chili so I’ll hide it in the freezer under the false hope that I will eat it later”.

“New” is always better than “old” unless it’s wine or cheese, but guilt overrides truth more often than not. And thus, the chili is traded in for a newer model.

A fridge deep clean revealed soggy Thanksgiving vegetables and fuzzy lemons buried in the crisper, decrepit and forgotten. The bathroom trash hadn’t been emptied in since June. My browser had 74 tabs open of articles I wanted to read, but couldn’t get around to reading.

The clutter on my “drop zone” had ascended to an all-time high. What is a “drop zone”, you ask? It’s the space where you drop shit when you walk in the door instead of putting it away in its proper place. We’ve all got one. I’ve got 3, because I’m what you would call an overachiever.

One is on the top of my dresser, which is covered with a disaster of bills, old grocery lists, business receipts, and random notes that need to be digitized. Another is my bedside table that is always full of water glasses and cables. The third is a cubby right inside my front door, piled with various bags, scarves and bus tickets.

I may have lapsed on this melange of confusion in 2015, but I refused to carry it into 2016 with me. Now is the time to address the usually unaddressed:

• Months of accumulated recycling have been taken to the appropriate neighborhood receptacle.
• All of the drop zones are spotless.
• The bathmat has been washed. (Did you know this is supposed to be done once a week? Seriously. Apparently, we’re all filthy animals.)
• The pharmacy of dog meds, cat meds and human meds have been sorted and organized. (It was a very sick 2015 for all involved.)
• A backlog of emails have been read and dealt with.
• Hours have been spent watching videos, reading articles and bookmarking, resulting in quite an orderly browser.
• Laptop has been backed up. (If you aren’t already doing this regularly, add a weekly backup to your resolution list.)

In terms of food-related cleaning, here are a few good things to take care of before the year gets too crazy.

1. Completely clean out the fridge

Wipe everything down. Pull out the drawers. Get rid of, recycle, or compost anything that’s past its prime. Clean the rubber around the door, which can degrade over time if dirty. Sanitize the door handles.

Defrost the freezer (if you’re like me without a frost-free model, because YAY Eastern Europe). Trash anything older than 3 months old, unless you truly have a plan for it. Clean out the ice maker. This part might get scary, but trust me, you’ll feel better knowing your ice box doesn’t look like a subway trash can. Ignorance is not bliss.

2. Go through your spices

Spices typically keep their freshness for 6 months. After that they begin to degrade. You can get more life out of them if kept in air-tight containers. I use these.

Get rid of any spices older than 6 months that aren’t stored in air tight containers. Chances are, you’ve got more than a few bottles of poultry seasoning from past Thanksgivings that have only been used once or twice.

3. Organize your pantry

Unless you’re Martha, it’s likely that your pantry has descended into chaos. Go through all of it. Put your cans together. Consolidate flours and sugars when you’ve got more than 1 open bag floating around. Group food items in a way that makes sense for your cooking habits. It’ll make cooking a lot less stressful. You’ll probably clear up some space in the process.

4. Purge some tupperware

Just like socks, somehow we all end up with a tupperware lid or container that has lost its mate. Cut your losses. You know it’s never coming back. Recycle the orphans and start anew.

5. Wash the back splash behind your stove

If you already do this regularly, you are my idol. Mine, however, is a Pollock painting.

Whether your year that just came to a close was good, bad or mediocre, we’ve all got cruft to clean out.

Time to start fresh.

Kaffir Lime Leaf Lemonade Recipe

1 dozen kaffir lime leaves, plus a couple for garnish (for the fancy)
3/4 c sugar
3 c + 3/4 c filtered water
2 c lemon juice (about 10-12 lemons)

Notes for your perusal

Kaffir lime leaves come from the kaffir lime tree native to Southeast Asia. The leaves have a delicate, sweet lime scent and are commonly used in Thai cuisine. You can find them in the freezer section of most Asian supermarkets.

If using Meyer lemons in place of conventional ones, add simple syrup to the lemonade in 1/4 cup increments since they are naturally sweeter.

For the kaffir lime leaf lemonade

In small pot, combine 3/4 c water and 3/4 c sugar. Stir to combine then place over medium heat. Stir constantly to make sure the sugar dissolves quickly and evenly. Bring to a boil. Let boil 1m. Stir in kaffir lime leaves and set aside to cool and infuse with limey flavor.

Don’t add the lime leaves to the sugar and water before it has boiled, as it could cause the syrup to crystallize.

While syrup is cooling, juice those lemons. Once you’ve reached 2 cups of juice, combine kaffir lime simple syrup (strained of leaves), lemon juice, and 3 c filtered water. Stir to combine and add ice.

For inquisitive minds, the answer is yes. This would go well with gin. I’m glad you asked.

Want another lemonade recipe? Try strawberry on for size. For other warm drinks (for those who aren’t in denial about it being winter), brew up some mulled wine or get cozy with killer hot chocolate.

It’s time to tell you about my friend Emily.

I met Emily the summer before 8th grade. I didn’t like her on sight. In fact, the word “nemesis” was tossed around.

I’m going to be upfront with you and admit there was no acceptable reason for my staunch disapproval. She WAS from Houston. If that weren’t enough of a reason, she was friends with OUR friend. Well, that just wasn’t okay. He was OUR friend, and how could our clique possibly allow him to be friends with another person. We’d already met our quota. Pfft.

Then 8th grade started. On my first day in history, in…walks…Emily, all nonchalant-like. She was assigned to the seat right next to me. Who was pulling the strings here?

To pass the time before class, I noticed her reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance…for fun. Who reads Robert M. Pirsig in the 8th grade voluntarily? She must be a spy.

This one was going to be trouble.

While I remember meeting her in extricable detail, I don’t remember what changed everything. One day, there was a moment of clarity when I realized, “Wow. All of my baseless claims are wrong. This chick is excellent!”

Maybe I was in the cafeteria. Perhaps it was at Whataburger. Who can say. Point is, I overcame my childish antics, and a lifetime-long friendship was established.

From that moment on, we were quite the pair. Inseparable best friends. Every day was a nonstop rotation between her house and my house. We ate mac and cheese and discussed the true meaning of our favorite song lyrics, which we were always right about given our deep ESP-like connection to 90s rock gods.

Recently, I’ve been super lucky to reunite with her in Budapest, half a world away from where we first met 17 years ago. Somehow life took both of us to Eastern Europe. Her to Hungary, and me to Croatia.

While we both have had a decade of entirely separate experiences in between then and now, the bond is still just as strong. The ability to share this crazy, strange, exciting, frustrating life of an expat with an old friend is priceless.

On top of all that, she makes a mean carbonara. Here are 5 reasons why you should make this recipe:

• It can be whipped up in the time it takes to boil pasta.
• It’s incredibly, luxuriously, gorgeously silky and creamy (without the cream)
• The recipe is foolproof. Follow the formula, and you’ll get it right every time
• Bacon
• Because dammit, you deserve it

Emily’s Carbonara Recipe

4 healthy servings

2 tbsp olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
10 slices bacon, chopped
5 egg yolks
1 whole egg
2 c parmigiano reggiano, grana padano or other good quality parmesan, finely grated
Black pepper
Salt
500 g pasta, mezzi rigatoni or other short cut pasta

Notes for your perusal

Let’s say you only want to make carbonara for 1 person. What do you do?

Well, Emily, in her infinite wisdom, devised the perfect formula to make carbonara for one person. At end of this post, you’ll find a modified list of ingredients that will help you make the perfect carbonara for just yourself. You can also multiply it to accommodate 2 or 3 people to make a partial recipe.

For the carbonara

Boil water for the pasta. While the pasta is cooking, start the carbonara sauce.

Heat the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-low heat. Once heated, add onion. Sauté the onions, stirring frequently until they are softened and translucent.

Add the bacon and continue cooking until bacon is completely cooked through. It won’t get crispy. If your pasta is not yet ready, then turn off the heat and let the bacon and onions sit until the pasta is ready.

In a bowl, whisk together eggs, parmigiana, salt and pepper. Keep in mind that the bacon and cheese will already be salty, so go easy on the salt. However, you are encouraged to go nuts with the black pepper.

Once the pasta is ready, turn the heat under the bacon and onion pan to low and reheat them just to warm. Add in the drained pasta and toss.

Turn off the heat. Add in the egg and cheese mixture, then quickly toss everything together. Turn off the heat and serve immediately.

BOOM. Carbonara.

Emily’s Per Person Carbonara Recipe

For 1 person

Base Ingredients (per recipe)
2 tbsp olive oil
1 whole egg
1 slice bacon, chopped

Add On Ingredients (per person)
1/4 large yellow onion, diced
2 slices bacon, chopped
1 egg yolk
1/2 c parmigiano reggiano, grana padano or other good quality parmesan, finely grated
Black pepper
Salt
120 g pasta, mezzi rigatoni or other short cut pasta

To make carbonara on a per person level, always include the Base ingredients first no matter how many you are serving. Regardless of 1, 2 or 3 people, the base ingredients will stay the same.

The Add On ingredients are calculated for 1 person. So if you are only making this recipe for yourself, use the above amounts as your guide. If you’re making it for 2, multiple all Add Ons by 2.

Once you’ve got all of your ingredients, follow the same instructions as above to prepare the carbonara.

Didn’t the Wallpaper folks do a lovely job of plating it?

Want to make this cheesecake at home? Get the recipe by clicking here.

In case you want to pick up your own copy, here is the cover of the April 2015 issue.

Bubbles are awesome and shiny and they float. Anybody can play with bubbles. They aren’t for just boys or just girls. They aren’t fancy or expensive so anybody can afford them. They don’t need batteries or an outlet or instructions or a service plan.

They don’t require software updates. They never get bugs or glitches or prompt you to sign a 2 year contract. Nobody ever calls bubble tech support. Nobody ever needs to order a replacement part for their bubble apparatus. Nobody ever loses at bubbles.

All you do is dip the wand and blow. If you blow too hard, your bubble will break. But never fear! You can always make more. And if you’ve really got bubble-blowing talent, you can get a bigger wand!

Bubbles are completely uncomplicated.

I could play with bubbles for hours as a kid, but now I’m consumed with bills and healthcare and office politics. That shit really eats into my bubble-blowing time.

My godmother, bless her heart, never gave up on bubbles. She always has a bottle or 3 stashed in her house for whenever the bubble mood strikes, ready to whip them out at a moment’s notice.

What she knew all along was that bubbles make everybody happy. There are no depressed bubble-blowers. And since that’s true, there is no good reason to forsake them as an adult.

Let’s be real. Is it better to unwind after a stressful day by drinking a few too many at a bar, sending regretful texts, and making some bad decisions resulting in a wicked weekend-long hangover or kicking back in a lawn chair with some bubbles?

I can sense you’re not convinced.

Okay, well perhaps I can make it worth your while. What if you could DRINK your bubbles?

Replace that Long Island iced tea with a Willy Wonka-esque fizzy lifting drink. It may not make you fly like Charlie, but its fizzy goodness and provocation to burp will make you smile.

And it’s delicious with vodka in it too.

Vanilla Fizzy Lifting Drink Recipe

Makes 2 liters. Adapted from The History Kitchen

1 c sugar
1/2 c filtered water
1 1/2 vanilla beans, scraped
1/8 tsp active dry yeast
3 tbsp lemon juice, strained to remove pulp
7 c filtered water
vodka, for an adult lift

Notes for your perusal

The fizzy lifting drink should be made in a plastic bottle. No glass containers. The drink is super fizzy, which means lots of gas, which means lots of pressure. If the plastic bottle explodes, worst case you have a big mess. If the glass bottle explodes, worst case you go to the hospital.

For the vanilla syrup

Combine sugar, 1/2 c water and vanilla beans (along with scraped insides) in a sauce pan. Bring to a simmer, stirring frequently until all the sugar has dissolved. After sugar is completely dissolved, remove from heat. Let sit for 1 hour, then strain. To make it easier to strain, I heat up the syrup a bit until it becomes runny again then pour it through the sieve. If you want to make sure to remove every speck of vanilla seeds, use cheesecloth.

For the fizzy lifting drink

In a 2 liter plastic bottle, combine vanilla bean syrup, yeast, lemon juice and 7 c water. Seal bottle and gently shake until yeast is dissolved and ingredients are combined.

Place bottle in dark cool place for 3-5 days. Fizzy lifting drink is ready when bottle becomes very hard (due to the pressure of the gas) and tiny bubbles appear around the rim of the liquid.

Once ready, pour fizzy lifting drink over ice or store in the refrigerator to slow down the fermentation process. If you plan to store it in the fridge for more than 3 days before drinking, loosen the cap a little to release a bit of the gas then retighten. This will prevent the drink from exploding under the pressure. Like I said, it’s REALLY fizzy.

How fizzy you ask? This fizzy.

In planning my first move to Europe, I had this grand delusion that it would be just like home except with cobblestone streets, architecture older than 1952, pubs full of locals drunkenly singing in unison and exotic-accented men, as those are the only reasons anyone moves to Europe in the first place.

I definitely got the cobbled streets, the historic structures, the quaint pubs and, of course, the exotic men folk to oggle. But it was nothing like home.

Perhaps underneath my cliched expectations of Europe, different was what I actually wanted. Some place new and exciting to invigorate the soul and spur adventure.

Even though this shiny new continent filled those voids, to my surprise, it also caused discomfort in ways I didn’t know it could. Afterthoughts at home became necessities abroad.

My creature comforts no longer included a down comforter or a dirty martini. Instead, Ziploc bags and American-made cotton swabs were at the top of my wish list. Call me eccentric, but the European ones do not have enough padding for safe ear cleaning. I could puncture my brain. And DIE.

As so, I turned to the expat black market.

Every expat is guilty of brazen importation. We just can’t help ourselves.  Any person traveling across the Atlantic becomes our personal drug mule. Instead of a stash of cocaine hidden in their bum, it’s a log of Velveeta or bottle of fabric softener crammed into a checked bag.

Customs be damned. I need my hot sauce.

I’ve become the person that calculates luggage weight down to the very last ounce. No pocket is left unused. No shoe goes unstuffed.

“Your bag is 3 pounds under the limit? You know, a bag of masa harina will fill up that empty space quite nicely.”

“Your colleague’s sister is coming to visit? Can you ask her to bring some sriracha?

I even had my brother smuggle a KitchenAid mixer into Amsterdam. A pack of Norwegians started bidding on it at the airport.

Shameless.

Sloppy Joes Recipe

1 tbsp olive oil
1 1/4 lb (550 g) ground beef
1/4 c dark brown sugar
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp salt
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp coriander
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 medium red onion, minced
1 small red bell pepper, minced
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tbsp dark soy sauce (or classically, worschestshire sauce)
14 oz can whole tomatoes, crushed by hand
2 tbsp tomato paste

For the Joes

Heat a large pan or pot over high-heat. Add olive oil.

Brown the ground beef, while breaking it up with a wooden spoon. Once the meat is almost completely browned, add the brown sugar and spices.

After meat is browned and sugar has melted, add the garlic, onion, and bell pepper. Cook until softened, about 5 minutes.

Stir in the vinegar and tamari. Cook for 2-3 minutes.

Add tomatoes and tomato paste. Stir until combined. Let simmer for 5-10 minutes, until thickened to your liking.

Buttery Hamburger Bun Recipe

Adapted from Leite’s Culinaria

3 1/2 c (550 g) all purpose flour
2 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/4 c (50 g) sugar
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp (10 g) yeast
3/4 c (200 g) lukewarm water
1 egg
3 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

For the dough

In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, yeast, cold butter and sugar.

Whisk the egg in a separate bowl. Add the water, then whisk to combine.

Add water and egg to the flour. Stir until a dough forms. Once dough becomes to thick to stir, turn the dough out onto a counter or board and knead until dough becomes elastic and smooth.

Form ball with the dough. Place dough ball in a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a towel. Let rise in a warm, draft free place for 1-2 hours until doubled in size.

To speed up the rise, turn your oven into a proof box by placing a casserole dish of boiling water at the bottom of your oven. Put the bowl with your dough on a shelf above the dish. The hot steam from the water will provide the ideal conditions for your dough to rise.

Once the dough has doubled in size, gently remove the dough from the bowl and place on your counter or board. For hamburger-sized buns, divide the dough into 10 equal pieces. If you have a scale handy, weigh the entire dough, then divide by 10. You’ll get the exact weight each bun should be.  For sliders, divide the dough into 12 pieces.

Gently shape each piece of dough into a round ball without working it too much. Place each dough ball on a parchment-lined cookie sheet, then gently press down to form a flat round. Be sure to keep all your dough covered with a towel or plastic wrap while shaping to keep them from drying out. Give each dough piece 2-3″ of space.

After all buns have been shaped, cover the cookie sheet with a tea towel. Return buns to your oven or draft-free spot and let rise for another hour.

To finish the burger buns

About 15 minutes before the hour is up, preheat your oven to 375F (190 C). If your buns are rising in your oven, make sure you take them out first before turning the oven on. That’s a mistake you only want to make once.

Before baking, brush each bun with half of the melted butter.

Bake buns for 12 to 18 m until golden brown. After you pull them out of the oven, brush the buns with remaining melted better. You could wait until the buns cool, but I can’t imagine why you’d forgo a hot, pillowy bun for a room temperature one. We’re aren’t heathens.

To make them even more scrumptious for sloppy joes, or burgers, split open the buns, brush with more melted butter and toast under your broiler.

It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing your face. Last time we met, I saw you eying the twenty something blonde at the next table.

After 6 years together, I’ll admit my looks were fading, the crow’s feet becoming ever more apparent. That can really do a number on a girl’s ego. So I took a leave of absence, while I (or rather, the blog) underwent a major makeover, complete with many necessary lifts and tucks. The unwanted was removed. The good was enhanced. Silicon was implanted.

Going under the knife was an unsettling experience. It had all the makings of a quagmire, overrun by smoke signals that recovery would never come. But after hiding out for the past few months underneath mounds of bandages, the scars healed and the blog is anew, perky even, like a svelte 26-year-old waiting to be objectified.

Take a look around. Evaluate my curves. Run your fingers through my hair. Kick the tires.

Like what you see? Me too.

And thus, it is time to celebrate. With booze.

Rakija, similar to Greek ouzo or Italian grappa, is one of the greatest pleasures of living in Croatia. This potent firewater distilled from the leftovers from wine production can strip the paint off a car or your soul. There is no better way to shake off the trauma of my reconstruction.

Croatia’s rakija comes in every flavor and color. Depending on the region, it can be flavored with fresh figs, quince, honey, apricot, cherry, walnut or mistletoe. Even truffle rakija is not out of the question.

One of my favorite flavors is lemon, made like limoncello in Italy. It is simply a maceration of lemons, sugar and booze left to stew for a few weeks while you wait impatiently in anticipation.

My batch was ready the day before my new look was revealed to the world. The timing could not have been better.

Raise your glass in the name of restoration.

Lemon Rakija (Croatian Limoncello) Recipe

Ingredients

1 liter unflavored rakija, grappa or everclear
3-4 lemons, organic
2-3 handfuls of sugar (approximately 50-75 grams)

Notes for your perusal

Most of the lemon flavor comes from the rind of the lemon, so it is always best to use homegrown or organic lemons that have been grown without chemicals.

You’ll need a large glass resealable jar with an opening big enough to fit the lemons through.

For the rakija

Cut the lemons in half. Squeeze their juice into the jar, then throw in the lemon rinds as well. Pour in the sugar, depending on your sweetness preference. Pour in the rakija. Tighten the lid, then shake the jar to help dissolve the sugar.

Store the rakija out of sunlight in a cool place. Shake the jar every day for the first few days to dissolve the sugar. After 2-3 weeks, the rakija will begin to yellow and the lemon rinds will become more pale. Give it a taste. If the flavor and sweetness is to your liking, then it’s ready.

Strain out the lemons and seeds. As the lemons have soaked up a lot of the grappa, squeeze the lemons again to get every ounce of rakija out. Store the strained rakija in a resealable jar or bottle at room temperature or in the refrigerator.

I have always wanted to pick wine grapes. 

In my dreams, I was in Burgundy at a beautiful country chateau with gleeming vineyards sprawling in every direction. I spoke French, of course. 

We picked massive bunches of plump pinot noir, sneaking a few into our mouths every few feet as we made our way down the vines. Two for wine, three for me. 

Around noon, we breaked for an overindulgent lunch of roasted meats, marinated vegetables, pastas with lots of cream, and 7 desserts (because 6 just wouldn't be enough). The harvest feast was spread out on a long wooden table underneath the shade of grapevine canopy. 

We sipped chardonnay and devoured dish after dish until our bellies nearly burst with gluttony. It was all capped off by a long afternoon siesta to recharge for an afternoon of picking more grapes. Or perhaps it was the chardonnay. 

But this was a dream. The real thing is a little different. 

Instead of Burgundy, I was in Dalmatia, a region in southern Croatia. Instead of pinot noir, we picked cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay. Instead of a leisurely day of picking grapes, the backbreaking harvest started at dawn and ended at dusk with no naps in between. My broken French was not appreciated. 

Regardless of the discrepancies, the experience was just as enjoyable as the dream and the grapes were even sweeter. 

The grape harvest happens over two days in early October, although the date changes every year. The winemaker waits for the grapes to ripen to their ultimate peak. Once they do, everyone is called to duty. 

Grape harvesting is a family affair at the Krolo Winery. Cousins, aunts, daughters, son-in-laws, and fathers all joined in the effort. 

Those not picking the grapes managed the grape processing and wine production. Once the harvested grapes are picked up from the vineyard, they are stemmed and pressed. 

The harvest lunch was just as I had hoped (sans the canopy). Long wooden table, covered in local dishes surrounded by storytelling and laughter. Lunch included a smorgasbord of traditional Dalmatian dishes including roasted pork, fagiole (beans and sausage), noodle soup, stuffed cabbage, freshly baked bread, and a number of pastries that I could not keep my hands off of. 

After lunch, it was back to the vineyard. 

If you ever get the chance to harvest grapes, take it. It's definitely an experience for the bucket list. 

Click here to view more photos from the grape harvest in Croatia

I didn't get the memo that summer was over. Just yesterday I was flopping around in the sea like a manatee, coated in Coppertone with the Mediterraean sun beating down on my face. Well, not YESTERDAY, but fairly recently. And, dammit, I wasn't done yet. 

I can't remember the last time I wore pants. Or shoes that cover my toes. 

What happened to natural progression of the seasons? One day, it was sunny and gorgeous. Then, a torrential and endless wintery deluge began.

The rainy winter blew in like an unwanted relative. No warning. No postcard. No telegram. No smoke signal. The carrier pidgeon must have drowned in the rising waters. 

Noah will be by with his ark soon. 

Nothing makes sense anymore. I have to wear boots? And long sleeves? And make soup? And dig through boxes to find an umbrella? 

I'm not ready for this. 

For the next couple weeks, I plan to stay in a sunny world of denial and salads, brightness and peaches. I'll use sunscreen as perfume and dress completely weather-inapropriate. I'll be the diva in the sunglasses. Maybe I'll even turn on the air conditioner.  

And I shall continue to indulge in popsicles, barbecued ribs, cobblers and salads. 

Nothing tastes more like sunshine than this pasta salad. Farfalle pasta is tossed with a bunch of summery goodness like feta and a vinaigrette of fresh mint, an absurd amount of dill, garlic and lemon juice. 

This pasta salad says "Screw you Earth, it's still summer no matter how cold and wet I get when retrieving my mail!" Of course, it said all this at a pitch only dogs and I can hear. 

If you want to give winter the finger, kick back with this sun-drenched pasta salad that will keep you in denial of winter for a good long time, or at least til you reach the bottom of your bowl. 

Sun-drenched Pasta Salad Recipe

1 lb (500 g) farfalle pasta
1/4 c feta cheese, crumbled
1/3 c lemon juice
1/3 c extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, smashed
1/4 c mint, packed
1 c dill, packed
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

For the vinaigrette

Combine all ingredients (except for pasta and cheese) in a blender. Pulse until garlic and herbs are sufficiently chopped and blended. Set aside.

For the pasta salad

Cook pasta until al dente, with still a bit of a bite. Drain pasta. Rinse with cold water until pasta has cooled and is no longer hot. 

Drain pasta very well. Move back to a pot or serving bowl. Toss with vinaigrette and feta cheese. Serve!