As we discussed last week, I love my hipster food; however, there is one hipster pantry staple with which I have never really grooved: Quinoa. Or as my friend, Mark, thought it was pronounced, “Quin-Oh-Wa.”
I can’t make this stuff up.Read More
I’ll admit it. I’m a hipster foodie.
Um, first and foremost, #kalefordays. I throughly enjoy, and actually prefer, anything served in a mason jar. I feel refreshed and rejuvenated after my green smoothie in the mornings. I would take a bath in Sriracha and gladly drink my way out. We have already discussed my devotion to the humble chia seed. I could have Cruciferous Vegetable Night (a la Sheldon Cooper) every night of my life in the way of brussels sprouts. I frequently sprinkle hemp seeds and flax seeds on my fruit. Almond milk is my spirit milk.
We’re going to knock a few of those out right here, right now.
Grab your thick-rimmed glasses. It’s about to get hipster up in here.Read More
Are there any foods that you just hate? I am quite a food lover, so when I talk about hating a food, the hatred sure does run deep. I have two in particular.
One will never grace the pages of this blog: Celery. I cannot stand the stringiness. I cannot stomach the bitter taste. And the texture totally freaks me out. I have some kind of hyper-sensitivity when it comes to that stuff; I taste it in Old Bay (bleh – celery salt), soups (horrible little chunks of the stuff), and green juices (why ruin such a good and healthy thing with the devil vegetable?). And I’ve heard it’s such a fantastic vehicle for my favorite food, peanut butter. Alas, celery always has been, and always will be, part of my “Food Axis of Evil.”
Do you go to the gym? I have the luxury of a pretty swanky gym here on campus, so I’m trying to take advantage of it more this semester than in semesters past. I really appreciate the classes they offer – I’m seriously trying to get into yoga because I don’t have a bendable ligament in my body. I tolerate it, but I’m not in love with it, you know? But I do adore spin classes. Like. Love them. They have a way of totally clearing my mind and making me sweat out all of my anxieties and stresses.
It’s a beautiful, hot mess of a thing.
And I mean “hot mess” in the most literal way possible.
Remember how I was talking about my New Year’s Resolutions? Well, I thought of another I could add to that list: Change. It. Up.
I have my favorites. I barely have time to try new restaurants because I always stick to my most-loved spots. And forget about trying different dishes at said “spots.” I adore re-reading my most beloved novels so much that I sometimes possess a certain tunnel-vision that prevents me from discovering something new. I am convinced that I would make a horrible mother because I’m 100% sure that I really would have a favorite kid. I eat the same Banana Bread Oats for breakfast. Every. Single. Day.
All I have to say is thank goodness I branched out today.Read More
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When I was younger, I claimed I was a vegetarian for two whole days. Having always been an animal lover, once I realized that the chicken on my plate was the same as the awkward bird I had seen on farms, I swore off all meat. Or so I thought. My parents made steak two days after this life-changing claim of mine, and I happily scarfed it down. Unbeknownst to my little 4-year-old self, meat is meat, whether or not it is called the same term as its living counterpart. In my young, innocent mind, chicken = chicken, steak < > cow.
Oh, to be young again. Read More