Food Travels

Food always comes with a story. The taste of the searing hot tamale from your grandma’s tomato soup, or the feeling of the slippery oyster as it slid down your throat; we each have vivid images branded in our minds when we think of food.

I will never forget (and my friends will never let me live it down) when I tried candied ginger for the first time. It. Was. Awful. It felt like someone had stuck the bitterest blob of congealed liquid in my mouth and made me swallow. I think the candy had a mind of its own because it made its way to the side of my mouth and sat there as if to say, “You will like me. I am going to sit here and rub myself in your taste buds until you do.”

But I didn’t like it, and I don’t think I will ever like it. But I will always remember the side stiches I got from laughing so hard after the whole incident.

I also remember the bunny cake. My mom made me a bunny-shaped chocolate cake for my 9^th birthday, and I will never forget it. I remember the moist, thick chocolate layers and the creamy white frosting throughout the center of the cake and smeared on top. There were flakes of coconut coating the top of the white frosting like an inch of snow from the North Georgia Mountains. It’s been 16 years since we had that cake, and every Easter Sunday or birthday celebration I sneakily ask if she will make it again. She sighs and rolls her eyes, but eventually she caves in and agrees.

Over the past few years of my life, I had the distinct privilege of doing some travel. I translated in Guatemala, studied in Spain, and packed up my room, quit my job, and traded my pressed white button up for green-strapped chacos to go to 11 countries in 11 months. It kind of sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? It was a dream fulfilled for me. Between the helping, serving, and elephant riding, I learned a thing or two about cooking. We hopped from grass hut to South African orphanage, with every country bringing a different smell and taste with it. You see, I love food. I love how food cultivates community in an evening, early sunrise breakfast, or afternoon lunch with a friend.

So I’m going to start sharing the stories, recipes, and humorous antidotes I learned through my ‘food travels;’ one recipe at a time. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it inspires you to cook these new creations! (As I hope it inspires me to do the same :D)

I Expect Hot Coffee

When you stop and think about, expectation is a weird word. It literally means a hope, anticipation, or potential, but rarely do we think of it as such. Our expectations are generally things that we think we are entitled to, instead of something that is a potential or even a hope. I never hope that my car will start in the morning or think that potentially there will be coffee at the Starbucks drive through.  I just expect it, and if it doesn’t happen, I act like the world is against me.

I didn’t act like this last year. A year ago today, I was living in a cold, sunless, soot-filled and trash-covered hole of a city in Southern China. I was working in a welfare center for dying children. I didn’t expect coffee in the morning. I was just excited if we had enough time to heat water for plain oatmeal or if I could actually choke down the incredibly spicy food they prepared for lunch. My perspectives were harnessed on right. Not because I thought about people dying in foreign countries, but because I was witnessing it everyday.

But here I am, a year later, watching my impatience brew as the car in front of me is driving 10 miles under the speed limit. What’s changed? The fact that my experience in China didn’t rock my world? No. The fact that I don’t have to eat spicy greens everyday for lunch? Well, maybe. But honestly it boils down to the fact that my surroundings and influencers changed. I grew up in a house where dinner was always ready promptly at 6pm and my bed was soft and warm. Spending a month in communist China isn’t going to change 25 years of comfortable living. But it did give me a glimpse of another life. A life where if you own a car you are in the top 2% bracket of the wealthiest people in the world and the $4 I spent on a latte turned into my entire day’s worth of food money. Ironic, isn’t it?

So what do we as do? Stop expecting everything and live on the line of mediocrity? I don’t think so—I don’t believe that people are called to a complete upheaval of their current lifestyle to fix our incredibly overblown expectation list. There could be a time and a season for that, but we all know the power we have as consumers in this country to change the world for good (I’ll save that for another blog). But I do think it starts with our expectations. A healthy amount of expectations is good for your life: expectations of a job you love, a beautiful family, or fun, quality time with your friends. But it’s when things like this become standard, and if you aren’t seeing them come true in your life and delivered to you by your fairy godmother, you start to get whiny and pessimistic. That’s when we have a problem.

Tomorrow morning do I expect to have hot coffee for breakfast? Yes. Will my morning be destroyed if that doesn’t happen? I hope not. For now I will consider my morning cup of coffee a treat, and something to hope for over expect. Everything becomes much more of a joyful experience when you look at it that way. 

Summertime.

Summer holds something special. There is a nostalgia that hangs in the air on warm summer nights, and beckons you to join its carefree way of life, glass of sweet tea in hand.

At least that’s what its like for me. It reminds me of running barefoot on hot pavement and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the pool. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like summer has a way of making you feel like a kid again, without the remorse and dread of leaving adulthood behind. It frees you; helps you see that sticky marshmallow-covered fingers and lazy Sunday afternoons are an accepted way of life.

A few days ago I was in California visiting a great friend. Unbeknownst to be, San Diego nights are windy and cold; unlike anything I would have imagined. One night we decided to have a bonfire on her back porch. We pulled sweatshirts over our heads and buried ourselves in blankets, only to let out one hand for marshmallow roasting. We listened to the fire crackle, ate sticky marshmallows with gooey chocolate, and told story after story from each friend’s memory bank. It was a perfect night. It brought me back to summers as a child, and I was reminded of the freedom to be childlike, no matter what your age, title, or season of life.

This summer, don’t be surprised if you catch me out on my back porch, barefoot with skewer in hand. We all need a little reminder of childhood sometimes, and summer provides the perfect atmosphere to jog your memory. 

Someone is Pursuing Me

Early this morning I watched my mom prance down the stairs dressed and ready for work. I was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping my warm coffee and scooting my eggs around my small plate. As she often does, she put her arms by her side to model her outfit and said in a sweet but straightforward manner, “Does this look dumb?” (She always phrases her questions like that when she wants my approval of her outfit. It’s like she thinks she only knows how to dress like a clown until I set her straight)

“No, it looks cute. Oh, and you’re wearing the pearls I bought you in Thailand. They look really pretty!”

“Oh, well thank you,” she said in a posh more dapper tone. “Did you buy yourself some? Every girl needs a some pearls in her jewelry box.”

“Um, no, no I didn’t. I guess I’ll just have to wait for some man to buy them for me,” I said in a joking, half sarcastic tone.

That’s generally how my day starts. I drink coffee, mom asks me if her outfit is dumb, and I make a snarky comment about men. Ok, I’m being a little extreme but you get the picture.

Nothing out of the ordinary about today.

I went about my normal routine, which included working, working out, and coming home. When I got home there was a small package on the counter with my name scribbled on it. I picked it up, shook it, and began to carefully open it up, in a confused and curious manner.

A beautiful jewel-toned bag slipped out, and a note that was folded three ways glided to the table. I unfolded the note and read over the beautifully scripted writing. It was a love note. Literally. The author wrote about my pure heart, his love for me, and how he longed to meet with me. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I continued to open the small bag and found a tiny, white box. I shook the box, clink, clink, clink, made the noise.

No way. This sounds like earrings. No way has an admirer sent me jewelry.

Sure enough, I opened the box and two soft white pearls rolled out into my cupped hand. I couldn’t believe what I saw, especially considering the conversation I had with my mom that morning.

The giver of this gift had not surprised me like this before. This was a first attempt in the past 2 months he had made at my heart.

The other time came after and warm and bubble filled bath. It was a Sunday evening and I was soaking in the tub while talking to God about what I wanted for my life, well, whom I wanted for my life. I told him that I was OK waiting for this man, but that I needed his to show my some pursuit, because my heart was getting a little lonely.

The next day, I was looking up plane tickets to visit my friend Emily in California. No matter how many times I refreshed or checked a different site, the ticket prices were the same: $450.00.

Aghh. I can’t justify spending that much money right now, but I know this is the only chance I’ll get to see her before she moves to Seattle, which is even further away!

So I decided to give it one more day, and see if the wonderful world of social media could give me a hand. I posted a simple request on Facebook: “Does anyone know of any sites that are offering good deals to California? Preferably under $400.00.”

The next thing I know I’m getting a message and then a phone call from someone I haven’t talked to since 10^th grade history class. He said he saw my post and would like to purchase my plane ticket for me. He said he had some extra skymile points, and wondered if I would like a window or aisle seat.

...

I’m sorry, what? Was my prayer of pursuit just answered by someone I haven’t talked to in years and now lives in upstate New York? Yes. At this moment thoughts of doubt started swirling around like a merri-go-round, until a javelin came down and stilled every thought in my mind. I heard a still quite whisper.

Is this not what you asked of me? To pursue you in a tangible and clear way? I am the ultimate pursuer of your heart. I love every piece of you, treasure your whims and ways, and pursue you continually. This time I had to pursue a little clearer for you to get the picture.

The truth is, a mystery man didn’t buy me the earrings or plane ticket. Well, one was from a man and the other was from a friend. However, both parties said they purchased these gifts for me because God pressed it on their heart to do so.

People, do you know what this means? Jesus is pursuing me personally. The creator of the universe is orchestrating my life so that I realize that he loves me deeply and wants me to give my heart fully to him.

His pursuit is working. I’m believing more and more every day that his plan for my life is out of genuine love and care for me. He is sovereign. He is our highest calling and only fulfillment to that deep hole inside of our chest that is crying out to be filled.

He wants to be the lover of our souls. Do you believe that? I dare you to ask him to pursue you. See what he does—I promise it will be more than you have ever dreamed up. 

How to Live a Colorful Life

I don’t live in the ‘real world’ most of the time. I’m always dreaming of new places to travel, different themed parties to throw, or unique adventures to do with my friends. I think this yearn to escape the day-to-day routine comes from my love of movies and the vast imagination that sprung out of my childhood.

Movies just made me think my closet was a snow-covered enchanted land and that I could fight like a Power Ranger.

My childhood imagination left me turning my air-conditioning vents into magic portals transporting my toys to foreign lands and pretending that my parent’s shower was a tall tower where evil witches lived. I’ll never forget getting into trouble for burying one of my birthday presents in our back yard. I calmly explained to my mom that I simply wanted to draw a treasure map leading to my buried gift so I could experience the joy of finding it, all over again.

Well, I’m 25 years old and I still tell people my closet has a Narnian enchantment on it and if danger comes to worry not, I can protect them from the Putties. And I love it! I love taking the normal day-to-day and turning it into something magical, something memorable.

I was sitting in my reading nook tonight and thinking about how I could continue to live a colorful life as an adult. So, here are some of my scribblings of how to live a colorful life. I’m not saying that every day if full of raindrops on roses or perfectly made hot cocoas, but I do have fun. And I think people leave that ingredient out of their lives way too often. Try some and see how much you enjoy it.

1.   Have colorful friends. Having all of your friends be the same race can be boring. Spice it up! Befriend someone who is a different race from you, and learn about their culture. They will probably teach you a new recipe or show you a new dance move.

2.   Travel somewhere new every year. This could be anywhere from Prague to the city next to you. Don’t plan every minute, but go out on a limb see what kind of surprises you run into—you’ll be surprised at how much fun you have!

3.   Host a story telling party. People are full of interesting and weird stories, and creating a unique platform for them to share these stories is almost unheard of nowadays. It’s a fun way to have a party.

4.   Watch a fantasy movie. Let the creators of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, or Avatar take you into another world for the evening. Turn off all the lights, pop popcorn, and make some hot cocoa. Let the experience of the movie be magical.

5.   Experience something new. If it’s fall, go apple picking. If it’s winter, take a sleigh ride. For springtime, tour a vineyard or winery and for summer swim in a watering hole. Don’t let the seasons escape you; they are precious!

6.   Make goals and actually see them happen. Every year I set a goal list, and for the most part, they happen! I know things happen and stuff comes up, but guess what? Stuff will always come up and if you don’t start pursuing your dreams with the same persistence as you pursue your job, you won’t ever see them come to fruition.

This is just my short list. Your list doesn’t have to look like mine, but I highly encourage you to start one. Remember that ‘all worlds come to an end’ and to always power up!

Why Women Crave Pursuit

Yesterday a friend who I haven’t spoken to in over 7 years bought me a plane ticket to San Diego. I was planning a trip to see my friend, and didn't have the courage to empty my bank account for the ticket. A young man named Leigh followed up on my shameless Facebook plea for help finding a ticket to California for under $400, and offered to buy me the ticket with his frequent flyer points. After that, the conversation went a little like this:

“I'm sorry, what?? Leigh, I haven’t talked to you since tenth grade history class. Don’t you want to use those points for yourself?”

“Nah. I fly for work all the time, and you post nice things on Facebook, and seem to be a nice gal. Thought I’d pay it forward.”

And there I was speechless, on the other end of the line. I literally can’t remember the last time I talked to you, and now you're arranging my flight and making sure I have a window seat? Am I dreaming? When will my alarm go off?

There are so many parallels that go along with that story. First, we have a young man who is standing up, risking looking a little crazy, and taking care of a woman, for no reason at all. He heard the cry for help, an like a modern day social media hero, he typed away at the rescue. After the conversation was all said and done, he wished me a happy weekend and told me not to mention it. And that’s it. No puffing his chest or proclaiming his generosity to the world, just a simple tip of the hat and a farewell.

The second parallel to this story is a prayer I said while lying in the bathtub and watching the candles flicker and the bubbles dissolve.

Jesus, I am sick of this. I am sick of searching for a godly man who has a firm understanding that he, in fact, is called to be a man of pursuit. I’m sick of looking for someone to love me like Christ loved the church, only to come up disappointed. I’m sick of meeting a guy, having a connection, and then the most action I receive is a friend request on Facebook.

So I give up. I ask you to pursue me. The bible says that you are the ultimate pursuer of our hearts, so I am giving my heart to you. I need your pursuit.

And he did. Twelve hours later I had a phone call from a random guy saying he would pay for my flight and arrange everything, and for nothing in return (did I mention he lives in New York? Nowhere near Atlanta). With that simple act, Jesus looked down at me and said, “When I pursue you, it is above every expectation and hope you could ever have. It is bigger than your dream, and higher than your ways, because I love you more.”

There it was. A reminder that God is in control, He is in constant pursuit of our hearts, and He wants to bless us far above what we could imagine.

Gentlemen, that’s why women crave pursuit. That is how we were made. The God of the universe created a hole in our hearts where He can pursue us. Pursue your women like Christ pursued the church, and you will be blessed. Trust me, the ladies won't know what to do with it!

I Want a Moist and Yellow Man

According to MadLibs, my dream man is someone who is moist and yellow, has a physique like Angelina Jolie, and whispers cute nothings in my left toenail. Listening to my brother barely breath out the finished MadLib, (because he was laughing so hard) I began to think.

Is this why I’m 25 and still single? Given the shortage of moist/yellow men with a body like a female actress, maybe I should lower my standards a little. This silly game brought up a world of thoughts on the issue, so I set my fingers-a-typing.

Since the holidays have passed, I’m sure all single people in their twenties are reflecting on the myriad of questions from grandmas, distant relatives, and old friends concerning their romantic lives. I’m sure each one of you found yourself in a scenario something like this:

Old Grandma at the family Christmas dinner: So, are you dating anyone?

Single Twenty Something: No, no I’m not.

Awkward silence. Despair and shame comes across the face of Old Grandma at the family Christmas dinner.

Old Grandma at Family Christmas dinner: (with nose turned up) Oh, well. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time at that job of yours or at the gym, you’d have time to date.

Single Twenty Something: Well, actually, I meet a lot of guys through work and the gym. They are all either married, or still single for a reason, if you catch my drift.

Old Grandma at Family Christmas dinner: Maybe you’re just too picky.

Single Twenty Something: ::Sign::

Don’t you just love defending yourself in that way? Like, there obviously is some reason why you’re single, and there’s obviously a quick fix to the situation. If ONLY there were moist and yellow men in this world!!

Well, to all of the grandmas still living in the 21^st century, I am here to tell you that sometimes there isn’t a glaring reason at this very moment as to why all of the twenty something singles are in fact, still single. It’s not because of my job, or living situation, or appearance, or lack of mini-skirt collection (I actually have a few and those don’t even work nowadays). It’s just because I am.

I used to be the person who could give the best advice on how to ‘not be single’ until I became single for almost 4 years. (I know, I know, you can silence the gasps. I’m over it, so we should all be over it). I would say, “Go out more!” And, “Don’t be such a hermit!” Or, “Don’t be so closed off.” And my personal favorite, “Well, maybe if you let the guy know you were interested, he would pay more attention to you.”

And unfortunately, speaking from experience, none of those options have worked for me. I go out, I am interested and engaging in conversation, I am open and available to new possibilities and have literally met more people in my small lifetime than I can possibly remember. (Traveling the world before you turn 25 helps). But guess what Grandmas? I am still single. A lot of us are still single. And I refuse to believe that a little more lip pump and city style will automatically bring that Prince Charming dashing into our lives.

After living this life and trying to ‘meet someone’ or ‘be available’ to some mystery man, I am handing off the reigns. I’ve realized (AGAIN) that I am not in control of my own life, God is. And as much as I always hated saying this phrase, I have come to realize that God has a plan, and that nothing is a surprise to Him. He is not shocked to find out that Johnny Hair Swoop isn’t interested in you, or that this singles group is not supplying the men or women of caliber that you expected. He has crafted a master plan, and is working on the intimate details as we speak. Trust in Him, and your paths will be straight. There is a reason that is in Proverbs, the books that contain the most wisdom in the Bible.

My plan hasn’t worked, so what else do I have?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and He will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5-6