Since K got the story 100% correct, all I will add is that I did indeed plan it this way. I had hoped for a view and a sunset, but when it finally happened, the scene was beyond perfet. Not only did we get the perfect table, we had a 200 foot drop to the breakwaters not a foot from the edge of our table.
Her outburst of disbelief and her momentary laughter shocked me so much, I almost forgot to ask!
the rest of the day was as perfect as our evening capper (the engagement), though we did form some poor opinions of Monterosso. We had decided to take the train to the next town for the purpose of finding a difference beach. After exploring the long boardwalk and eying the many umbrellas shading paired sets of beach chairs, we went to pay for a spot on the beach. The man told us that it would cost 18 euro (about 26 bucks) for 2 chairs or to go to the very small, very crowded free beach at the end of the parking lot. We chose neither, opting to check out the next section of the beach, where a different company operated umbrellas and chairs. The next man told us his umbrella section was all full, despite the fact that there were numerous spaces open.
Suddenly we became acutely aware of the double standard placed on tourists by native Italians.Once they heard our accents (despite conducting all this business in italian), they either doubled the price or did not allow us service at all. For this reason, and because we'd finished reviewing the town of Monterosso, we left only a few hours after arriving.
Back we went to our sanctuary of Vernazza to swim in the familiar waters off the main square.
After a few hours—time really has no meaning to us here—we went home for some rest and reading.
Not to waste the warm evening, we found ourselves on one more short hike that took us to the perfect elevation and vantage point to get a wide shot of the entire main square. Once satisfied, we headed home, yet again to clean up for what would become our proposal dinner!
Sunday, July 01, 2007
She said
We got engaged!!!
Our second night in Cinque Terre (our first full day there), we'd decided that we wanted to have our last dinner with a view at Ristorante Al Castello. Unbeknownst to me, The Chiro was planning on popping the question there because we had both totally fallen in love with Vernazza. Apparently I helped his case by repeatedly asking him to take pictures of the castle every time we went hiking.
The day started off normally enough. We woke up, had a breakfast of pesto pizza (I just can't get enough of this stuff!) and headed over to Monterosso. After deciding that we didn't like the town as much as our beloved Vernazza, we went back to our village to change into swim wear and hit the beach. I tried to put our sunscreen, books, towels and snacks into his backpack, but he said he'd rather just carry everything down there separately. He'd been a little antsy since the night before when we'd had a mini argument over how wide to leave the window to maximize both the breeze and our privacy, so I just shrugged and rolled up our towels and stuck them under my arm. It wasn't worth arguing about, and if he'd rather not take the backpack, what was it to me? (Besides, I'd just make him carry all the other stuff! ha ha)
After a nice few hours swimming and sunning, we dried off, hiked to the overlook point above Vernazza, where we could see the entire lagoon, the town square, and of course Al Castello, and took many photos as the sun turned a delicious golden syrupy color.
It was about time to get ready for our nice dinner out (I actually put makeup on for the first time on the trip) so we headed back to the room to clean up. I had intended to clean up as best I could and have this fancy dinner, but accidentally blew up the transformer (and my curling iron) so had to make do with frizzy wavy hair. I wasn't feeling my prettiest, but then I guess it doesn't really matter when the man you're in love with looks at you like you are a radiant goddess!
We held hands and walked down to the town and up the endless stairs to Al Castello for our eight pm dinner reservations. The Chiro said that we'd had a good run of it and I agreed, saying that once we'd actually arrived in Italy, we'd had a great time. He laughed a little and replied that he'd been talking about US and our relationship. I giggled and agreed that things between us were easy, and wonderful, and the Chiro chose that moment. He looked into my eyes and said, "You know what would be even more wonderful? If you'd accept." Since this was a running joke between us, I quipped back, "Yeah, but you have to ask first" but I didn't really believe that he would.
He paused (almost like a nervous falter) before standing up.
"Well, actually..." he said, reaching into his pocket. He came around the side of the table and dropped to one knee in the narrow walkway between the castle wall and our table.
I chose that moment to burst out laughing, tears rolling down my face, asking, "Is this real? is this really happening?"
I think the laughter threw him a little, especially since I was wearing sunglasses and he couldn't see my eyes, but he proceeded. I don't remember what he said (past, "K, my sweet..." but he tells me that was followed by "...I love you. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?") Apparently I responded, "Yes yes yes. I will marry you, yes," although I don't remember that either.) He handed me the ring, and at that point I still thought it was a joke, a dress rehearsal for the real engagement, a trinket from a gumball machine perhaps (not that it looks plasticene...it's beautiful.)
It still feels surreal. My goodness. We're engaged!
Our second night in Cinque Terre (our first full day there), we'd decided that we wanted to have our last dinner with a view at Ristorante Al Castello. Unbeknownst to me, The Chiro was planning on popping the question there because we had both totally fallen in love with Vernazza. Apparently I helped his case by repeatedly asking him to take pictures of the castle every time we went hiking.
The day started off normally enough. We woke up, had a breakfast of pesto pizza (I just can't get enough of this stuff!) and headed over to Monterosso. After deciding that we didn't like the town as much as our beloved Vernazza, we went back to our village to change into swim wear and hit the beach. I tried to put our sunscreen, books, towels and snacks into his backpack, but he said he'd rather just carry everything down there separately. He'd been a little antsy since the night before when we'd had a mini argument over how wide to leave the window to maximize both the breeze and our privacy, so I just shrugged and rolled up our towels and stuck them under my arm. It wasn't worth arguing about, and if he'd rather not take the backpack, what was it to me? (Besides, I'd just make him carry all the other stuff! ha ha)
After a nice few hours swimming and sunning, we dried off, hiked to the overlook point above Vernazza, where we could see the entire lagoon, the town square, and of course Al Castello, and took many photos as the sun turned a delicious golden syrupy color.
It was about time to get ready for our nice dinner out (I actually put makeup on for the first time on the trip) so we headed back to the room to clean up. I had intended to clean up as best I could and have this fancy dinner, but accidentally blew up the transformer (and my curling iron) so had to make do with frizzy wavy hair. I wasn't feeling my prettiest, but then I guess it doesn't really matter when the man you're in love with looks at you like you are a radiant goddess!
We held hands and walked down to the town and up the endless stairs to Al Castello for our eight pm dinner reservations. The Chiro said that we'd had a good run of it and I agreed, saying that once we'd actually arrived in Italy, we'd had a great time. He laughed a little and replied that he'd been talking about US and our relationship. I giggled and agreed that things between us were easy, and wonderful, and the Chiro chose that moment. He looked into my eyes and said, "You know what would be even more wonderful? If you'd accept." Since this was a running joke between us, I quipped back, "Yeah, but you have to ask first" but I didn't really believe that he would.
He paused (almost like a nervous falter) before standing up.
"Well, actually..." he said, reaching into his pocket. He came around the side of the table and dropped to one knee in the narrow walkway between the castle wall and our table.
I chose that moment to burst out laughing, tears rolling down my face, asking, "Is this real? is this really happening?"
I think the laughter threw him a little, especially since I was wearing sunglasses and he couldn't see my eyes, but he proceeded. I don't remember what he said (past, "K, my sweet..." but he tells me that was followed by "...I love you. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?") Apparently I responded, "Yes yes yes. I will marry you, yes," although I don't remember that either.) He handed me the ring, and at that point I still thought it was a joke, a dress rehearsal for the real engagement, a trinket from a gumball machine perhaps (not that it looks plasticene...it's beautiful.)
It still feels surreal. My goodness. We're engaged!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
The hike
We had planned to get up at 9 this morning and hike to Monterroso, but some 3 am hooligans blasting techno music and shouting outside our room meant that we didn't arise until 11. Because my legs got a little red yesterday on the beach, we decided to give my "lobster sticks" a rest and hike to Corniglia instead. The first hour or so was entirely uphill, providing for some breathtaking views, but also requiring us to stop for water every 30 vertical feet.
We ran into some other west-coasters at about the halfway point, exchanged some pleasantries and took photos of one another with our respective cameras before continuing on.
Corniglia was... not Vernazza: pleasant enough, but much smaller, and being situated so high off the water gave me a frustrated burning sensation in my stomach. Of course, that could also have been because I hadn't eaten much beyond a few apple slices and some spoonfuls of Nutella.
We found a little bar, bought some panini and sat outside on the bench in the sunshine in the middle of the town square to eat and people-watch.
If Vernazza is small, it seems positively cosmopolitan compared to Corniglia, which boasts maybe 6 bar/ristoranti and 3 souvineir shops. Needless to say, we saw most of the town in less than 10 minutes, caught the shuttle to the train station and then headed back to our beloved Vernazza to swim and eat more (Pizza! Oh soft, pillowy, fresh pesto pizza!).
After our dip in the Ligurian sea, we bought fresh cherries, trofie, pesto, and a few pasticcini dolci (like biscotti) to make an economical dinner in our room and read and relax.
Tomorrow, I think we'll take the train to Monterosso to explore and the ferry back, and then in the evening we have reservations at Il Castello Ristoranti, highest (reasonable) point in town. There's an amazing view from up there and we decided on our first night here that our last night's dinner should be held there.
Dinner at sunset, overlooking the sea with good food and the one you love... what could be better?
We ran into some other west-coasters at about the halfway point, exchanged some pleasantries and took photos of one another with our respective cameras before continuing on.
Corniglia was... not Vernazza: pleasant enough, but much smaller, and being situated so high off the water gave me a frustrated burning sensation in my stomach. Of course, that could also have been because I hadn't eaten much beyond a few apple slices and some spoonfuls of Nutella.
We found a little bar, bought some panini and sat outside on the bench in the sunshine in the middle of the town square to eat and people-watch.
If Vernazza is small, it seems positively cosmopolitan compared to Corniglia, which boasts maybe 6 bar/ristoranti and 3 souvineir shops. Needless to say, we saw most of the town in less than 10 minutes, caught the shuttle to the train station and then headed back to our beloved Vernazza to swim and eat more (Pizza! Oh soft, pillowy, fresh pesto pizza!).
After our dip in the Ligurian sea, we bought fresh cherries, trofie, pesto, and a few pasticcini dolci (like biscotti) to make an economical dinner in our room and read and relax.
Tomorrow, I think we'll take the train to Monterosso to explore and the ferry back, and then in the evening we have reservations at Il Castello Ristoranti, highest (reasonable) point in town. There's an amazing view from up there and we decided on our first night here that our last night's dinner should be held there.
Dinner at sunset, overlooking the sea with good food and the one you love... what could be better?
Friday, June 29, 2007
Our first full day in Vernazza (the Chiro's entry)
We began late in the day. Sleeping in is (and will continue to be) a high priority on this trip. Since we had slept through breakfast, we decided to go hunt down some lunch around one-thirty pm (when we finally rolled out of bed and showered). We went to the end of the jetty to a bar called Baja Saracena which had the best pizza either of us had ever eaten.
After we were full, we settled in the sands of Vernazza's only beach. The town square literally slopes down onto the sand. the square itself was filled with small boats belonging to the locals. Any extra space was reserved for restaurant tables beneath brightly striped umbrellas. Tourists and locals alike casually linger in windows, on walls and at tables, taking in the small horde of people playing on the beach and in the water. While sun bathing on the beach was not a pretentious experience (like in the Cote Azul), you can't help but feel like the center of attention as you exit the water in your drenched suit.
The deep green-blue waters of the Ligurian sea (which feeds into the Mediterranean), we warm, with an initial edge of freshness. The sun felt warm, but never hot. Even the weather seems to come in moderation here.
After a few hours on the beach, we believed ourselves well on our way to being tan, and went home to change and relax in the cool room. This day could not have been more perfectly relaxing. Later in the day, we took advantage of the internet cafe and purchased some food to eat tomorrow before our first hike to the coast in Corniglia.
After we were full, we settled in the sands of Vernazza's only beach. The town square literally slopes down onto the sand. the square itself was filled with small boats belonging to the locals. Any extra space was reserved for restaurant tables beneath brightly striped umbrellas. Tourists and locals alike casually linger in windows, on walls and at tables, taking in the small horde of people playing on the beach and in the water. While sun bathing on the beach was not a pretentious experience (like in the Cote Azul), you can't help but feel like the center of attention as you exit the water in your drenched suit.
The deep green-blue waters of the Ligurian sea (which feeds into the Mediterranean), we warm, with an initial edge of freshness. The sun felt warm, but never hot. Even the weather seems to come in moderation here.
After a few hours on the beach, we believed ourselves well on our way to being tan, and went home to change and relax in the cool room. This day could not have been more perfectly relaxing. Later in the day, we took advantage of the internet cafe and purchased some food to eat tomorrow before our first hike to the coast in Corniglia.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
My addendum to The Chiro...
He glosses over the tough day we had, but dinner was indeed magical.
What he neglects to write is that the shuttle bus that we took from the airport to the train station was 70 minutes of stop and go nightmare on my already-queasy stomach. I hadn't eaten since the airport snacks in Newark (salad, white rice and a sprite) and though we had plenty of food with us, none of it was particularly appealing. After the ordeal on the bus, we finally walked into the crazy bustle of Milano Centrale. I was immediately on guard against pickpockets and scammers (I'd heard horrid stories), at one point hiding behind The Chiro as a wrinkly old Rom woman motioned to us that an unseen baby needed to eat, will we pay?
I replied, "No, grazie." and moved away from her.
We bought out tickets to vernazza (on 18 hours of no sleep) and a panino formaggio, scaldata (hot cheese sandwich), which tasted like heaven.
It take us 20 minutes to figure out which platform our train is supposed to leave from, and another 10, me using the broken Italian that I know, to verify that the train we've boarded is indeed the correct one.
We exit at Genova (as far all is well) and dash to information to find out which platform the train to Sestri Levante will be leaving from. No one speaks any English, so of course all the communicating is done by me in whatever Italian words I can muster. The woman tells me that the next train will come at 12:42 at subterranean station 1 and the Chiro and I head downstairs to wait.
At 12:37, a train comes rumbling through, and though I've never known an Italian train to be early, I ask the conductor if "Questé il treno per Sestri Levante?" this is the train for Sestri Levante. He shakes his head no and says he thinks it's "il prossimo," the next one.
I thank him and a few minutes later, the monitor next to the track displays the words "Sestri Lev." We think nothing of it then, when the train that was SUPPOSED to arrive at 12:42 rolls in at 12:47, and we climb on.
It was a beautiful ride, along the rolling hills and bright turquoise water, and we enjoy the sights, but when the ride that was SUPPOSED to put us in Sesti Levante 30 minutes into the trip turns into 45 minutes (with no Sestri in sight), I begin to fret. After an hour, I steel up my nerves and ask a girl a few years younger than us (in Italian) how far to Sestri Levante and she informs me that this particular train does not GO to Sestri. She asks where we're heading and after we tell her Vernazza, she and a few other passengers have a rapid discussion in Italian, which I can not follow, about the best way for us to get to our intended destination.
The heated debate concludes with the woman telling us to get off "dopo il prossimo" after the next stop.
This finds us in Rapallo, a perfectly charming village, had we intended to go there. However, we've been without sleep for more than 24 hours, without a change of clothing in 56, and without a real meal (shared panino not-withstanding) in 60 hours. I burst into tears, the stress of it all too much for me to cope with in my exhausted state. The Chiro is great at calming me down and after we figure out the new train to take to Vernazza, we buy 2 new train tickets and sit down in a bar for some limonata pelligrinos. I, however, desperately need to use the bathroom and none have any toilet seats, toilet paper or soap for washing.
The tears start flowing again until I run into some nice german women on their way out of the restroom, who take pity on me and give me a package of kleenex. Bless those women! I am SO glad I ran into them.
What he neglects to write is that the shuttle bus that we took from the airport to the train station was 70 minutes of stop and go nightmare on my already-queasy stomach. I hadn't eaten since the airport snacks in Newark (salad, white rice and a sprite) and though we had plenty of food with us, none of it was particularly appealing. After the ordeal on the bus, we finally walked into the crazy bustle of Milano Centrale. I was immediately on guard against pickpockets and scammers (I'd heard horrid stories), at one point hiding behind The Chiro as a wrinkly old Rom woman motioned to us that an unseen baby needed to eat, will we pay?
I replied, "No, grazie." and moved away from her.
We bought out tickets to vernazza (on 18 hours of no sleep) and a panino formaggio, scaldata (hot cheese sandwich), which tasted like heaven.
It take us 20 minutes to figure out which platform our train is supposed to leave from, and another 10, me using the broken Italian that I know, to verify that the train we've boarded is indeed the correct one.
We exit at Genova (as far all is well) and dash to information to find out which platform the train to Sestri Levante will be leaving from. No one speaks any English, so of course all the communicating is done by me in whatever Italian words I can muster. The woman tells me that the next train will come at 12:42 at subterranean station 1 and the Chiro and I head downstairs to wait.
At 12:37, a train comes rumbling through, and though I've never known an Italian train to be early, I ask the conductor if "Questé il treno per Sestri Levante?" this is the train for Sestri Levante. He shakes his head no and says he thinks it's "il prossimo," the next one.
I thank him and a few minutes later, the monitor next to the track displays the words "Sestri Lev." We think nothing of it then, when the train that was SUPPOSED to arrive at 12:42 rolls in at 12:47, and we climb on.
It was a beautiful ride, along the rolling hills and bright turquoise water, and we enjoy the sights, but when the ride that was SUPPOSED to put us in Sesti Levante 30 minutes into the trip turns into 45 minutes (with no Sestri in sight), I begin to fret. After an hour, I steel up my nerves and ask a girl a few years younger than us (in Italian) how far to Sestri Levante and she informs me that this particular train does not GO to Sestri. She asks where we're heading and after we tell her Vernazza, she and a few other passengers have a rapid discussion in Italian, which I can not follow, about the best way for us to get to our intended destination.
The heated debate concludes with the woman telling us to get off "dopo il prossimo" after the next stop.
This finds us in Rapallo, a perfectly charming village, had we intended to go there. However, we've been without sleep for more than 24 hours, without a change of clothing in 56, and without a real meal (shared panino not-withstanding) in 60 hours. I burst into tears, the stress of it all too much for me to cope with in my exhausted state. The Chiro is great at calming me down and after we figure out the new train to take to Vernazza, we buy 2 new train tickets and sit down in a bar for some limonata pelligrinos. I, however, desperately need to use the bathroom and none have any toilet seats, toilet paper or soap for washing.
The tears start flowing again until I run into some nice german women on their way out of the restroom, who take pity on me and give me a package of kleenex. Bless those women! I am SO glad I ran into them.
The saga continues (guest written by the Chiro)
We arrive in Milano one day late, skipping our night of planned recovery. Instead, we are forced to take a shuttle bus to the Milano centrale train station. What one woman described as a "very easy short ride" turned into a very long 70 minute journey. Already lacking sleep, we both attempted to conserve energy for the train ride. With multiple train changes coming up, tensions rose as we discovered how poorly labeled the train schedule really is. Now, we end up stranded in some random coastal town, still hours of travel ahead of us, even though we've been without sleep for more than 24 hours now. Please! Let the next train be the right train!
After another 80 minutes of waiting, we catch the train to Vernazza. Molto bene! We have arrived. Our first bit of luck is that Marco, owner of our accomodations for our time here happens to be right near the train station when we arrive. He takes us straight up the hill to our beautiful room with private bath.
Finally we can catch up on zzzz.
After a well-deserved nap, we head down to the heart of Vernazza. We decide to treat ourselves to a pesto dish made by the gods. Local pesto over trofie noodles with gelato as a chaser. We sat under brightly-colored umbrellas with a view of the small beach and harbor. Night fell, people came out of their rooms, children scrambled and the real magic of Cinque Terre revealed itself. With real food now in us and prolonged sleep on the way, our optimism is growing again.
After another 80 minutes of waiting, we catch the train to Vernazza. Molto bene! We have arrived. Our first bit of luck is that Marco, owner of our accomodations for our time here happens to be right near the train station when we arrive. He takes us straight up the hill to our beautiful room with private bath.
Finally we can catch up on zzzz.
After a well-deserved nap, we head down to the heart of Vernazza. We decide to treat ourselves to a pesto dish made by the gods. Local pesto over trofie noodles with gelato as a chaser. We sat under brightly-colored umbrellas with a view of the small beach and harbor. Night fell, people came out of their rooms, children scrambled and the real magic of Cinque Terre revealed itself. With real food now in us and prolonged sleep on the way, our optimism is growing again.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
And so the adventure begins...
We were supposed to arrive in Milan this morning but our flight out of Portland came into Newark late (something about a faulty engine?). We ended up sitting on the plane for nearly two hours before finally taking off, and that, combined with circling a weather system outside of Chicago meant that we arrived at our gate in Newark 11 minutes after our plane to Milan departed. Who knew Italian planes left on time?
We ran to the gate anyway but it had been locked down and deserted. We ended up standing in line at customer service for 2 hours (after sitting on the plane for 7 and having woken up shortly before 3 am). The Chiro was notamused. When we finally made it to the customer "service" center, the agent was busy talking to a coworker about a hot red haired woman, and was in no hurry to helps us sort our journey out. He finally looked up at us to indicate that we should approach the desk when a non English-speaking girl cut in the front of the line and in her broken words tried to get the guy to help redirect her to Las Vegas (for a flight that she'd miss even if she had been on a plane right at that second). She apparently didn't understand about waiting in line like the rest of us (was she Italian? They don't seem to do lines very well there...) The agent told her he'd help her if she stood in line, and she seemed like she was about to burst into tears, but he was unfazed and turned back to helping us find a new flight out (for the following day).
The Chiro and I agreed that a flight the next day was for the best (after 13 hours of travelling, neither of us had it in us to sit still for another 8 hours on the plane). C. Tried to convince me that whether we were in Italy or Jersey, we were on vacation, but somehow it didn't feel like a holiday to me.
Everything ended up working out though, as we got to stay with my cousins in Newark. We got to shower (with the toiletry kits I asked Continental to give us since they wouldn't release our bags). We ate some dinner, watched some tv and feel into a deep stretched out sleep.
As I write this, we're at the airport using our meal voucher tickets (again... I had to ASK for these, or they never would have parted with them). Gearing up for the second leg of travel. Instead of having a night to rest in Milan and get accustomed to the time difference, we're going to head directly to Cinque Terre via train and swim, sleep and relax!
We ran to the gate anyway but it had been locked down and deserted. We ended up standing in line at customer service for 2 hours (after sitting on the plane for 7 and having woken up shortly before 3 am). The Chiro was notamused. When we finally made it to the customer "service" center, the agent was busy talking to a coworker about a hot red haired woman, and was in no hurry to helps us sort our journey out. He finally looked up at us to indicate that we should approach the desk when a non English-speaking girl cut in the front of the line and in her broken words tried to get the guy to help redirect her to Las Vegas (for a flight that she'd miss even if she had been on a plane right at that second). She apparently didn't understand about waiting in line like the rest of us (was she Italian? They don't seem to do lines very well there...) The agent told her he'd help her if she stood in line, and she seemed like she was about to burst into tears, but he was unfazed and turned back to helping us find a new flight out (for the following day).
The Chiro and I agreed that a flight the next day was for the best (after 13 hours of travelling, neither of us had it in us to sit still for another 8 hours on the plane). C. Tried to convince me that whether we were in Italy or Jersey, we were on vacation, but somehow it didn't feel like a holiday to me.
Everything ended up working out though, as we got to stay with my cousins in Newark. We got to shower (with the toiletry kits I asked Continental to give us since they wouldn't release our bags). We ate some dinner, watched some tv and feel into a deep stretched out sleep.
As I write this, we're at the airport using our meal voucher tickets (again... I had to ASK for these, or they never would have parted with them). Gearing up for the second leg of travel. Instead of having a night to rest in Milan and get accustomed to the time difference, we're going to head directly to Cinque Terre via train and swim, sleep and relax!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
The Chiro's Confetti Rice
Harriet Van Horne said, "Cooking is like love—it should be entered into with abandon, or not at all."
Like love, cooking can require patience, improvisation and a whole lotta prep work. Also like love, if you're doing it right, all the effort is worth it in the end. Feel free to quote me on that.
Last night I was craving Confetti Rice, a dish The Chiro took to making for me when I wasn't feeling well and was eating plain white rice day after day. He worried that I would get bored with my monochromatic meals and started adding different ingredients each time.
We never had a name for the dish until now.
Last night he chopped dark purple cabbage, ripe red bell pepper, and vibrant green italian parsely, minced two cloves of garlic and sauteed these in butter and olive oil with pine nuts and shredded carrots. All the while, the white and brown mix of basmati rices was bubbling.
He stirred the veggies as I snapped photos and suddenly asked me, "Can we call this Rainbow Rice?"
I laughed at the absurdity of the name, although in this variation it was entirely apt. "What happens though, when there isn't any cabbage or bell pepper?" I asked. "Wouldn't "Refrigerator rice be more fitting? You know, since we throw in whatever is in the fridge?"
He thought for a moment as he added the cooked rice, a pinch of saffron, a squeeze of lemon, a sprinkling of salt and pepper and a bunch of turmeric. He looked up at me. "Confetti Rice, then" he said. "In honor of your birthday."
So Confetti Rice it is.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Love and eating well
For me, the two are intertwined.
I just had the best frittata ever. Who knows, though. Maybe I'm just saying that because I am the one who made it?
The Chiro and I had set out early Sunday morning because we'd heard there was a farmer's market in the area. Since he works on Saturdays, we'd decided to hit the market on Sunday and see what looked appealing. When we arrived, laughing and holding hands, we realized that what was supposed to be a Sunday morning farmer's market, was now a new set of condominiums.
Whoops.
Luckily though, there was a New Seasons Market a block away, and we still wanted to buy some fresh vegetables. If any of you are lucky enough to have a New Seasons then you'll know what I mean when I talk about the allure of the produce section. I watched a woman hand-stack the kiwis for best presentation. A man who worked there was refilling in the baby bok choy where people had taken a few stalks, so that it looked inviting. (I'll admit, I was one of the people. Ginger tofu-vegetable stir fry anyone?) I just love that store! Plus, they carry really good frozen gluten free waffles (Van's brand).
Anyway, after wandering the aisles for an hour, we headed home to make some breakfast. While he put the groceries away and rinsed the firm, plump green grapes for us to snack on, I whisked 5 eggs with a handful of shredded carrots, a splash of milk, half a diced red bell pepper, one stalk of fresh spring onion and some minced garlic. I also added a splash of rice milk (The Chiro doesn't tolerate dairy really well) and a pinch of Vignalta herbed sea salt, my FAVORITE seasoning.
I melted some butter in a pan int eh oven and then poured this eggy mixture into the pan and baked it until it puffed up, then topped it with some crumbled feta cheese and baked it for 3 minutes more (so the cheese would soften). After plating it, we added a few forkfuls of Emerald valley salsa (grown locally in Eurene!) and gobbled the meal up before I had a chance to grab my camera and photograph the delectable meal. Really, I am sorry to deprive you all... it was beautiful sitting in the pan, but I had more use for it in my tummy!
I just had the best frittata ever. Who knows, though. Maybe I'm just saying that because I am the one who made it?
The Chiro and I had set out early Sunday morning because we'd heard there was a farmer's market in the area. Since he works on Saturdays, we'd decided to hit the market on Sunday and see what looked appealing. When we arrived, laughing and holding hands, we realized that what was supposed to be a Sunday morning farmer's market, was now a new set of condominiums.
Whoops.
Luckily though, there was a New Seasons Market a block away, and we still wanted to buy some fresh vegetables. If any of you are lucky enough to have a New Seasons then you'll know what I mean when I talk about the allure of the produce section. I watched a woman hand-stack the kiwis for best presentation. A man who worked there was refilling in the baby bok choy where people had taken a few stalks, so that it looked inviting. (I'll admit, I was one of the people. Ginger tofu-vegetable stir fry anyone?) I just love that store! Plus, they carry really good frozen gluten free waffles (Van's brand).
Anyway, after wandering the aisles for an hour, we headed home to make some breakfast. While he put the groceries away and rinsed the firm, plump green grapes for us to snack on, I whisked 5 eggs with a handful of shredded carrots, a splash of milk, half a diced red bell pepper, one stalk of fresh spring onion and some minced garlic. I also added a splash of rice milk (The Chiro doesn't tolerate dairy really well) and a pinch of Vignalta herbed sea salt, my FAVORITE seasoning.
I melted some butter in a pan int eh oven and then poured this eggy mixture into the pan and baked it until it puffed up, then topped it with some crumbled feta cheese and baked it for 3 minutes more (so the cheese would soften). After plating it, we added a few forkfuls of Emerald valley salsa (grown locally in Eurene!) and gobbled the meal up before I had a chance to grab my camera and photograph the delectable meal. Really, I am sorry to deprive you all... it was beautiful sitting in the pan, but I had more use for it in my tummy!
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