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I love sweet potatoes for breakfast. They’re warm, filling, and tasty. I count a half of one as a serving, so I have no idea what possessed me to buy six and roast them all. It would take me forever to eat them. So, I decided to make them freezeable and ready for on the go, which is how I do breakfast.

This recipe makes 12 servings.
5-6 sweet potatoes
2 tablespoons Brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon 
Pinch of salt
Nuts (optional)
Nonstick cooking spray, a muffin tin, and an immersion blender were my tools.

Take six sweet potatoes and put them on a pan. Make cleanup easier by covering the pan with some foil. Roast at 400 until you can stick a fork into them easily. It’s better to err on the side of cooking more than less.

Take them out and let them cool. Mine sat in the fridge overnight.

Remove the skin with your hands. They should peel very easily. If they don’t, you didn’t cook them long enough!

   
    

 

If you’re using organic sweet potatoes, you could clean them well prior to roasting and potentially keep the skin on, but even knowing there are tons of vitamins in the skin I just can’t get behind that idea. Blah.

I put them in a bowl with two tablespoons of brown sugar, a pinch of salt, and one teaspoon of cinnamon. I then used my handheld immersion blender and mashed them all up. You can add a little water or melted butter to make this easier (or richer) but I didn’t add anything, just made my blender do more work.

  

  I then chopped 14 almonds. Yes, 14. I count 7 as a serving and I figured I’d put them in 6 of my total 12. So, that’s 1/3 of a serving of almonds in each serving. 

  
 I know I’m getting technical and into some serious math here, but hey– if you’re counting calories and getting healthy, counting out seven almonds and putting the rest away without eating more some heavy shit. If you’re watching everything, then watch it all!
  
I used some nonstick spray and sprayed a muffin tin. All of my mash fit perfectly into the 12 cups. 

  
  

 I added the nuts to my batch of potatoes after scooping six plain.

  
  

You could top with butter, more brown sugar, or whatever you’d like. I left them plain.

BUT WAIT. I forgot a little vanilla extract. So, I poured some into the lid and verrry carefully poured it on top of each serving. I made a half capful last for all 12, so a few drops.

  
  

Bake at 375 for 12 minutes.  I let them cool and then scooped out and put on a cookie sheet to freeze.  They won’t keep their muffin tin shape but you will get portion control.  Or, scoop out and eat immediately!
All done:

  

  Before freezing, freeze these individually before putting in a bag or container, or else they will all stick together.

My dear friend Doug and I used to be coworkers.  We have known each other for over ten years and used to work with someone else who would get excited when the cafeteria served Shanghai Bowls for lunch, which was basically noodles and vegetables and an unidentifiable brown, vaguely Asian, sauce over top.
This recipe is adapted from here, which is good but didn’t quite do it for me.  I wanted to make it a little healthier and a little more spicy.
Here is my take.  We’ll call it a Shanghai Bowl as a tribute to Ron, wherever he may be.
3 cans of garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed

4-6 cups of raw veggies (more will stretch this out, less will make it more protein sense)

1/3 cup soy sauce

1/8 cup rice wine vinegar 

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Minced onion, minced garlic, minced ginger

Sesame oil

Red chili oil (optional)

1/4 cup chicken stock

Brown vaguely Asian bottled sauce (optional)

Scallions
First things first.  Cut up your veggies.  If you want small pieces then go ahead.  I’m lazy so I made them bigger.  I used two bell peppers, a container of portabellas, two small broccoli crowns, and the end of a bag of regular carrots plus some more baby carrots.  If you’re adding carrots, take the time to cut them smaller because they will take longer to cook.  Rise and set aside.

  
Open up your beans.  Rinse and drain.  For real, rinse.  Canned beans have a ton of salt.    
Here I am, rinsing away.  

Here is the second hardest part.  Take your chickpeas and add the soy sauce, a few dashes of chili oil if you like spice, the rice wine vinegar, a few swirls of sesame oil, and the cornstarch.  The cornstarch makes the marinate thicker.  If you don’t have it don’t sweat it.

Here is the sesame oil and red chili oil I use.  They’re great and you can usually find the sesame oil at any grocery store and the red chili oil at an Asian grocery.

Let this sit for at least an hour (AKA go watch an episode or two of House of Cards).  
  
 Here is the hard part.  Mince your onion and ginger.  I hate mincing.  Terrible at it.  This is my best effort and I cheat with the garlic.  PS- I hate ginger but I do use it in here.  I just use a little to add some flavor but THATS IT, go home ginger.  
 
Get a big pan and turn it on high.  Add a few swirls of sesame oil and more red chili oil if you’ve used it above.  Or, don’t if you’re not sure you want to double down.  Some of them are really hot.

  
Side note.  If you don’t have one of these, get one.  I believe it’s for flipping fish but it’s the best overall kitchen tool in my opinion.  A rubber spatula gives me the skeeves to use on a very hot metal pan, and I don’t use nonstick.  You can really get in there and drive it home with this guy.  
After your own and oil is nice and hot, add in your minced stuff.  Then turn your heat down to medium. Let it cook, kee it moving, for about 5 minutes. 
Then add in your veggies.  So pretty!  Turn your heat back up to high but scrape all of your mincey bits off first and scoop them on the top so they don’t burn.  
I do not add any liquid and let my veggies cook for about 10-15 min.  Keep scraping the bottom. If you aren’t able to deglaze with your fish tool then add some chicken stock or water and keep cooking.

 Remember those chickpeas that were hanging while you watched Frank and Claire?  Time to put them in- just dump the whole bowl, sauce and all.  I turn my heat to medium now.  The sauce will start to bubble. 
 At this point, mine looked a little dry.  Insert generic brown sauce.  I used problem a quarter to a third of a cup of this.  Since this makes so many servings, I’m ok with a little added jarred stuff.

  
Turn out into your finest serving dish.

 
Rise and chop some scallions to make this dish look ready for its closeup.

  
The closeup.   

 Enjoy that Shanghai Bowl!

  

Is it possible to be happy and sad about the same situation, at the same time?
Anyone?
I’m happy about some recent decisions, but sad too.  I think I read somewhere that the chemicals your body makes to feel these two feelings are very similar.  Perhaps that’s why joy comes just as easily as some dark clouds. 
My glass is still more than half full and for that I am eternally grateful.

About five or six months ago i started waking at lunch with a co worker. We walk for almost an entire hour.  We have different routes (some are very hilly, some are flat, some are through neighborhoods, some are just straight out and backs).

We both agree that the woods walk is our favorite.  There is an abandoned golf course behind us, and it’s slowly being developed.  There is still a fair amount of property that is just woods, and the cart path conveniently provides a nice route.

We walk, we talk, we swap stories; we laugh, I’m sure one of us has cried.  
We’ve been caught in little snow squalls, rain, and have been so sweaty that I apologize to my teammates upon my return.

No matter what, we love these walks.
I went solo today, as we sometimes do (gotta love corporate meetings).  Here are some pics I took.

I think Robert Frost would be proud.
   

    
    
 

  
Part of being knocked up and down ( life speak, not pregnancy speak) is having highs and lows.  Highs are generally a good thing.  Except when we are talking about weight.

I never was heavy as a kid, or as a teen.  I couldn’t donate blood in the drive I helped organize my senior year because I wasn’t 110lbs.  If I couldn’t find the clothes I liked at The Gap, I’d pop into Gap Kids and see what was available in an XL or XXL.
College came, and so did the beer, the pizza, and the frozen yogurt machine in the dining hall that we were all told was fat free froyo (it wasn’t).
Dating and then living with a chef after college didn’t help.  Wistfully I remember those vintage 501s, a thrift store gem, that fit like Levi himself made them for me.  I was wearing them when I met that chef.  Those jeans are sadly gone.
A desk job, rich ingredients in meals, too many dinners out, new medications and a health issue, and two pregnancies in two years.  I was never really bothered enough to do anything about it.  I stayed active off and on, but had long dormant periods where I consciously chose to do nothing.
After my second pregnancy, I worked out a bit- tennis matches, some weight training, and had a fling with the erg.  Never consistent.  I had a baby, a job, was postpartum, and was nursing.  
Flash forward to six months ago.  I decided I wanted to be healthy.  For my family, for my daughter, for me.
I got a Fitbit.  If there is one thing I am, it’s competitive.  Friends would push me and keep me accountable for exercise.  I tracked everything I ate.  The weight came off.

So, here I am.  Almost 30lbs lighter.  I logged ten miles yesterday.  I see a nutritionist, who helped me break through a long weight loss plateau.  I’m down two (soon to be three) pants sizes.  My closet looks entirely different than it did a year ago.  I take barre classes, I cycle, I do a ton of walking, and I think I may start P90x next month, which I’ve done before and loved the results.  My ultimate goal is to be a certain weight or size by my birthday.  Happy 35th!  I’m right on track to make it.

I still have off meals and off days (cue the meatball parm for dinner this week, and the chocolate chip cookies after dinner).  This weekend is my dads birthday AND Easter.  No excuse to gorge.  I’ll eat a little of everything and exercise.  Moderation.  
My mind is different than it was a year ago.  My goals are different than a year ago.  For the first time I’m allowing myself to search online for vintage 501s. I may even get my original pair back– imagine that.

Things are new, blooming, restarting.  In a lot of ways, I am too.  I’m feeling like being down is amazing.  
  

You know when you reach into the pocket of a pair of jeans and find five bucks?  

This morning I clicked on my Dunkin app to find a balance of $10.17.  Sweet, because I didn’t make coffee at home this morning and I was running on six hours of interrupted sleep (I need nine hours straight to function).  

I don’t know what caused me to order two medium coffees.  The words just came out.  It was literally an out of body experience ordering coffee.  It was like I was suspended from the ceiling with the Coolata banner, watching myself.
Only when I got to work did I decide to look up how many ounces of coffee I got.  32.  More than an XL.  Remember this next time you need to supersize.  

I haven’t done a cost benefit analysis yet (can you tell I’ve moved into a finance position at work?), but it’s pretty easy for the words to tumble out and then saunter to your car, both hands overflowing with caffeine.
The twins.  

  
Don’t think about this question, just answer immediately.
You sit down and put your earbuds in, or you flip on the Bose. You scroll through your music catalog, open Pandora, or log into Spotify. You find a listing of albums (or songs) by your favorite artist and you select an album (or song) to play.
Do you pick the studio version or the live version? Why?
I’ve asked this question to two people this week, and they both said the studio version, without hesitation. I was shocked. I was shocked that they didn’t want to hear the live version (I was also a little shocked that they didn’t agree with me). 
Live versions are the best! The sometimes changed lyrics, shoutouts to the city hosting the show, songs in different keys, or hearing the crowd sing a phrase or two. No two live versions are the same. They change every time, and they have personality, are sometimes imperfect, and aren’t overproduced or on their fourth or fortieth take. They’re original, unique, and practically a living thing.

Not to knock studio versions.

I’ve seen Dave Grohl’s documentary on Sound City. I understand the importance of Abbey Road and Sun Studio.  I appreciate that artists have different experiences in different recording studios, and that often the place where the record is assembled becomes an integral part of the record.  

But Holiday In Spain just isn’t the same to me without Adam Duritz’s “Hey” to start off, or Tom Petty telling the folks in the second tier that he can hear them and they sound great up there, or listening to Billy Joel and audibly hearing the crowd sing every word to Piano Man, almost to the point of drowning out Billy himself.  It’s like I’m there.  It’s like I know them, and I’m having that experience.  

For four and a half minutes, I’m not at my desk but at The Spectrum, listening to Pearl Jam, and feeling the floor and my brain vibrate with sound.  That’s the ticket I want to buy.

What’s yours?

I was looking forward to our family’s schedule changes, because it meant I would parent alone some evenings.

I think childbirth was more difficult.

In a week, my daughter has Caddyshacked the bathtub twice and now has a fear of getting a bath, so I get in the shower with her and grab her and pray that she doesn’t slip (she slipped).

I tried to pan sear (since the grill scares the shit out of me) a beautiful steak, and I ended up setting the smoke detector off and filling the house with smoke (steak was great, on a side note).

After putting her to bed, cleaning up, making breakfast and lunch for both of us the next day, I’m too tired to cook or eat, so I throw together something that is not so balanced- a sweet potato, yogurt and fruit, rice and beans, or just a glass of ice water and lots of prayers.

Single parents, I don’t know how you do it.

It’s hard to slice up a butternut squash when your toddler stands and screams, demanding to be held. It’s hard when you have to pee and you have to take her in the bathroom with you and she unrolls all of the toilet paper. It’s hard when you’re putting her to bed and you crack your head on the side of the crib and no one is there to take over so you can scream in pain and maybe shed a tear or two and then go take some Advil.

Hats off to you, single parents.

I have a new respect for my husband, who had dinner ready when I came home from work (and Elise wasn’t crying). Sometimes I wonder if she doesn’t like evenings with me (sit down, stop jumping, stop touching the dog’s privates, stop stop stop is all I seem to say from 5pm to 7pm).

These nights are the anomalies though. Most nights it’s fun, it’s making memories with my girl, it’s stroking her little head when she’s drifting off to sleep. But I do long sometimes for those nights when we are both home and can do this together, tag team style.

Time to go eat that steak I seared off tonight. Well deserved this evening. I will sit and eat it, and then begin to move again as I do laundry, maybe get smart and make a meal ahead, open the mail. Once again the work piles up, but I’ll savor that steak and these moments, for once they’re gone I know I’ll want that wonderful taste back.

Six Ways I’ve Matured Recently:

1. I invested in a good under eye cream that is supposed to reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles.

2. My 401(k) and flexible spending accounts have received about ten minutes of attention this week, versus their normal zero.

3. Not only do I have a day of the week pill bottle, I have two- one for the morning and one for the night.

4. I keep a diaper at all times in my purse.  To clarify, this is for my daughter and it is an unused one.

5. 10:00pm is the new 1:00am.

6.  Six beers is the new two beers.
Six Ways I Haven’t:

1. I still laugh my ass off with my friends at things that definitely are nowhere near appropriate for other human eyes.

2. I still need to rationalize to myself that it’s more important to pay down debt than buy these cute Rebecca Minkoff cheetah print ankle boots that have been calling my name for WEEKS.

3.  I look at my phone as many times a day as the average teenager.

4. I’m often afraid to say no to someone, because I don’t want to seem incapable.

5. It still hasn’t hit me, after months and months, that trying to get my daughter and I out the door in the morning on a very tight schedule means I can’t hit snooze.  At all.

6. I hardly use that under eye cream I got.  Maybe next year?

Christmas Eve, and I’m working (I know, I know).  I could have taken vacation time, but I convinced my wonderful manager to let me work from 6am to 2pm and forgo my lunch, so as soon as the clock strikes I’m out of here, headed to the beach, to reunite with my family and eat, drink, and be merry.

I need some music to get through the day, as I usually do.  I’ve already blown through episode 3 of the Serial podcast, as is my new Thursday morning tradition, and I moved to the Christmas tunes.  I’m not really one for Christmas music, mostly because I’m turned off by the commercialization that Christmas has become, but I usually enjoy the music the week leading up to the 25^th.

Bounced around Spotify for a bit, and listened to my two contemporary favorites (in case you’re wondering, they’re Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by The Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan).  I’m really one for traditional Christmas music, as it reminds me of growing up going to a big, Episcopal Cathedral and never missing a Christmas Eve service.

Christmas Eve was always magical and beautiful in our church, with the addition of lots of flowers, candles, brass instruments, a harp, and all of the choirs.  The church is old, grand, and very traditional and formal.  Growing up, this is just how church was, so as an adult, anything else seems strange.

One of the hardest services to get through for me was the Christmas Eve service after Hank died.  Hearing the music, singing those beautiful hymns along with hundreds and hundreds of other people in a packed church, and the French horn, and my family standing next to me, was overwhelming.  It’s usually overwhelming in general, and usually makes me cry, but once I started to cry that year it was hard to stop.

I finally got myself together.  The last hymn of the service is usually very joyous.  It was most likely Joy To The World or something equally rousing.  The choir processed out, and there was a murmur of voices during the hymn and the congregation was turned around, pointing.

The back doors of the church were open, and there was a very high, very bright light shining down on a huge arrangement of white flowers that covered the baptismal font in the back of the church when not in use.  Behind the flowers, with the open door, in the light, you could see it had started to snow.

My words cannot describe this scene or what I felt.  To see something so white and so pure in such an overwhelming moment in a place on a day where I had always associated the most beautiful and peaceful moments is a memory I’ll always have but will probably always fall short of explaining what it looked like or how it made me feel.  That was a great present, though, that year.  And not every gift is meant for sharing.

Merry Christmas.