Morning Glory

5 11 2012

This morning, I left the apartment without eating breakfast.  I figured I would pick up a little something while I was running around.  As soon as I felt the November air kiss my face, I started craving a vegan Morning Glory muffin from Madison Market.  In the nine years of living in Seattle, I had my fair share of those yummy spontaneous breakfasts—especially when I lived in Capitol Hill—right across the street from the co-op.  There were so many mornings when I was running just a wee bit late and needed to grab a bite before running down to the theater or over to UW.  But no matter how rushed I felt, I was able to somehow always mindfully treasure my Morning Glory breakfasts.  Sometimes, it would be the small meal I would bring along with me before heading off on a journey somewhere—a road trip to the ocean or an excursion on one of the ferries across the Puget Sound.  Those little muffin moments were something I could count on in a pinch—dependable and comforting.

I absolutely love living in Chicago and I have some great spots in my neighborhood where I can grab a quick, yummy, healthy breakfast when I need to.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little homesick for the Pacific Northwest this morning.  I had a wonderful life there and my heart is full of lovely, splendid memories.  Sometimes, it’s just nice to be grateful for that.

To the people and places in Seattle, I raise a glass–or a muffin, rather–to you today.

Cooking Tips From Amanda #17

4 01 2012

Mmm!  Homemade black bean soup!  Delicious, yes?  Definitely, but make sure you’ve got your wits about you while you’re cooking.  Even if you always turn off your blender before unplugging it, make sure you put the lid on those tomatoes before you plug that blender back in.  Yes, it makes for a funny moment from a movie, but someone’s going to have to clean the lipocine off the top of the spice rack.

Update:  Two hours later and I just found a sad looking, partially punctured tomato next to the coffee table.

Jazz for Cows

13 09 2011

I love cows.  I don’t know if any of you out there have spent any substantial amount of time with one or more of these ladies.  But I have.  Not enough, by any means.  For sure, if I had my druthers, I would say that I would like to spend more time with cows.  But I will say, that I’ve spent enough time face to face with a cow to know that they are delightfully pleasant creatures.  Talk about an animal that can teach us a thing or two about just being.  We don’t “be” enough.  Y’know what I’m sayin’?  I don’t know if elephants really are good at remembering.  I’m sure there’s information out there about that.  But cows do seem content.  At least, the cows that I’ve had the pleasure of being in contact with seemed so.  Of course, those gals had the luxury of a nice open field with lots and lots of green grass.  I’m certain that cows that are pent up, crowded, and kept pregnant and birthing (so that they can produce milk for their babies humans) are way more agitated and sad than they are content.

Ahem.  But I digress.

Where was I?

Oh, yes.  I love cows.

I also love music.  Who doesn’t?  There is not a person on this planet who hates music.  Every single person can claim that at least one piece of music has the power to move them.  Right?  Right.  It’s what makes us human.  Or is it?  Who’s to say that music doesn’t move other creatures as well?  Or, mooooooves them?   (Sorry.  Okay, I’m not really sorry.)

Anyway….  I just discovered this.

I LOVE THIS.  It is absolutely beautiful.  I am hoping that this is just the tip of the iceberg.  Can we please have more musical performances for animals who are completely engaged in the entertainment?  And videos are great, sure.  But I am hoping to get a front row ticket to one or more of these concerts.  Who can I contact about this?  How do I get on that list?

Oh, I hope I have cow and jazz dreams tonight.


Deck the Halls and Roll the Balls

16 12 2010

Nearly every year around this time I make my Grandma’s Russian tea cakes (veganized, of course).  They are yummy, fun to look at, and an all-around great Christmas cookie.  But this year, they turned out even better for me than they usually do.  I don’t know if it was the 1940’s radio program (Phillip Marlowe) I was listening to, the quiet evening I had leading up to them, or just having one right out of the oven, but hooo-boy!  They taste just like Grandma used to make!  Memories of Christmases past came flooding back in just one bite.

I should probably research this more.  I’ll make a control group and then a hot chocolate group.  Yep, it’s going to be a long night.

A Kinder, Gentler (and Tastier, Healthier) Betty Crocker

23 07 2010

Bopping around on the internet today, I came across this.  I don’t know these folks but I want to befriend them now on account of how delightful I think they are for doing this.  Awesome.

I love to cook and bake, but usually take somewhat of a hiatus from the big projects during summer months.  The heat simply encourages me to subsist on fruit, salads, sandwiches, and the like.  But come fall, you can bet I’ll be clickin’ on this link and scrolling down for all of their improved recipes.  And what’s great is that they’ll be adding recipes consistently for some time.


But doesn’t a little wine make it a BETTER Friday?

2 04 2010

Today, I was walking down Milwaukee enjoying the beautiful weather–and a vegan chocolate chip ice cream cone–yum!  I moseyed past lots of other Chicagoans enjoying this day in their own ways…  Some were walking their dogs or chit-chatting with friends (or even strangers) on the corner, while many were sitting at tables on the sidewalks for various restaurants and bars that offer the necessary outdoor seating for days just like this one.  An irritated guy briskly walked past me at this moment grumbling to himself with angry astonishment, “Who would go to a bar on Good Friday?!”

Clearly, he was dissatisfied with the blatant hedonism surrounding him, as he was certain that there is only one religion and everyone believes it.

A block later, I passed him as he was walking into a bakery.  I resisted the urge to mutter, “Who would go to a bakery during Passover?!”