Something Else

I'm tired. My head, neck, shoulders, back and throat hurt. I am in a slight amount of emotional frenzy. I spent no less than five hours of my day on a bus. Several buses, all of which smelled badly. For some inexplicable reason, I have not been sleeping for more than three hours at a time. I have nowhere to live, nowhere to work, and not a lot of friends. Wow. Read that again. I now feel slightly depressed. But, some good things happened today.


One of them is that I ate a very good, very large piece of pepperoni pizza. Nearly as big as the plate. At Pizza-a-go-go in NE Portland. I don't like the name. I also do not like typing it. But the pizza was delicious. Literally, a smile crossed my lips just now as I typed that, if that tells you anything. See, I am not one of those people that dabs my pizza with a napkin (or three). Honestly, I like my pizza with so much grease that it drips down my fingers while I'm eating it. That was this. Mmmmm. Crackly crust, the perfect ratio of cheese to pepperoni....bliss on an empty stomach. 


Another is that during this time of the unknown, of a sometimes not-so-exciting adventure, of patience, and faith and trial, I am constantly being reminded of who God is. The details of his character. He keeps reminding me that he cares about me and loves me, and that he has unlimited access to all of the resources on earth. This is comforting in a season when I have none. I am also remembering that whenever I want to talk to somebody else about the things that cause me stress, I need to go to him first...he understands me the best. 


The third and final thing is this poem, that was on the bus. I have this thing recently, that I'm not entirely fond of, where I mostly tear up when I read the poems on the bus, and I have to try not to cry. It's been happening for a while now. I want to know where my poetry hating cynicism has gone and why! I still hate rhyming poetry and always will, and there is comfort to be found in that.


"It was the end of something
and so we grew sad
according to how much we'd loved it.
Now, nothing
but our great variety of sadness
and for some,
a seed of instinct suggesting
something else
might eventually begin."


Words make my heart ache when they sound like this.

I wish I could say I only have eyes for HIM

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. It is this name which has been echoing through my head lately. This person, God, and man, who I have been finding my heart yearning for when I discover I am discontent. I know I need more of him. Every day, and all the time. Why does he seem so elusive? I admit that I could try a lot harder. But why don't I?

I've been frequently experiencing glimpses of the true and lovely fulfillment I've previously experienced when I've sought after him, by his grace in the first place. He fills me, heart and soul when I run to him. He is the most beautiful thing our blind eyes have ever been granted to see; the simple most elegant poetry our feeble pens have ever been equipped to write; the most lovely, perfect song deaf ears have ached to hear and attain more of. He is the music bursting through my cells, the light streaming  from my pores, the tears pouring from my eyes, I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.

I feel I cannot write adequate words. Blessed: oh how happy indeed. I've given up any hope of not being a romantic at this point, I've come to find that romanticism like the above paragraph shapes my view of life, in large part. And that settles it. I need to seek Jesus as though he is everything, because he is everything. It's Jesus we live for, and him we live by. He is my purpose, that which I am inclined to worship constantly. The son of God, and yet God. A beautiful mystery that makes it all the more worth it.

John 15:13 Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.

Oh, he loves me, he loves me.

Sometimes, when I think of it, I sing to him, the song Better Together by Jack Johnson. I like to think it describes us two quite well.

This Is It

I've been on a waffle kick lately. Tis true. I can't seem to get enough of them. Whenever I'm hungry, it's what I crave. (Replacing french fries and bacon for the time being, that's no small thing.) I  recently went to the waffle window, and enjoyed what was possibly the best waffle I've consumed, to date.
It was puffy, airy, and fragrant inside, with a slight buttery crisp on the outside, accompanied by a crystallization of a few grains of sugar. Piping hot, topped with slivers of fresh basil, milky-rich brie, and three golden bronze, thick slices of pepper crusted bacon. My only regret about this waffle is that the bacon was almost too thick, making it hard to cut and a bit leathery. I tend to like the thinner kind of bacon  that crisps up easily, with lots of fat that melts easily when eaten. Regardless, this waffle was a rare thing of splendor in a tired world of eggo's and boxes of pre-made, just-add-water waffle mix. With a scoop of home made peach jam on the side.

Almost a week ago, I myself made a batch of waffles that turned  out golden brown, puffy and delicious. Since that time, I've been experimenting with the leftovers, and have found all sorts of toppings to be more than suitable. Today, though, I've used up the last, and I'm here to tell you that if you have leftover waffles and would like something to do with them, this is it.

Here's a foolproof way of heating them up, no matter which way you eat them. Butter the top side of the waffle. Sprinkle it with just a little sugar, and a pinch of kosher salt. Broil them in the toaster oven for about three minutes. I have found the toaster oven essential to my way of life currently, something I never thought I'd say. I'm sure there's an alternative to this, maybe broiling them in the oven for a few minutes.

Here's what else you're going to need to top half of a waffle:
2 slices of bacon
1/4 cup chocolate chips
3 thin slices of gruyere

While the waffle is heating and getting a toasty outer layer, cook the bacon over medium heat. Be sure to heat the pan first. Cook it for about three minutes on each side until it's medium crispy, browned nicely.
When the waffles come out of the toaster oven (or other heat source, excluding the dryer or fireplace), toss the chocolate chips on. Hopefully, they fall into the little squares. Now, add the cheese. The bacon goes on very last. Return the waffle to the toaster oven for about one minute, until the chocolate and cheese have partially melted. Let the waffle cool for just a minute, and then eat it rather rapidly. It sounds like an odd combination, but ends up being quite delicious.

Although the cheese has a rather unpleasant smell.

Skeptical About The Asparagus

Hmmm, today I was in a sandwich mood. I'm sure you know what I mean. The one where all you want is some glorious array of toppings, any which ones, as long as they are perfectly compatible, all in between two pieces of BREAD. How I love bread. And Pasta. Pasta with bread. Oh. Enough's enough. 
Well anyway, the kind of bread I like to make my grilled sandwiches with is cheap bread. The kind that squishes down way too easily in any other circumstance. The kind you normally can't spread without tearing holes in, no matter how room temperature your butter (or other spreadable, edible substance) is. 
So today, these ingredients found their way onto two slices of potato bread, with a lightly flour dusted top:


Mayonnaise 
Spicy Brown Mustard
Marionberry Jam
Fontina Cheese
Leftover Roast Pork
Thinly Sliced Red Onions
Pickled Asparagus 


That's right. I thinly sliced the cheese, the roast, the asparagus. Assembled the rest. And thanked God for the toaster oven as I happily buttered the outside of the bread, very carefully. Broiled that sucker for about 3 minutes, until it was the perfect mix of crispy, creamy, cold and warm. It has found its home in my stomach. 


Question:
What are your favorite things to put on a sandwich? 

And Here Are Some Recipes

I figured it's been a while since I've recorded any recipes, and so I thought that I would share the ones that I am personally craving right now. 


Bacon Wrapped Fried Chicken
Makes 4 servings


2 Chicken Breasts
8 pieces of Bacon
1/2 cup of Flour
2 cups Cornflakes
1 cup japanese-style Bread Crumbs (panko)
Black Pepper (to taste)
Garlic Salt (to taste)
2 eggs
Cooking oil (of some kind) 


Rinse the chicken under cold water. Pat dry with paper towels. Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk lightly to break the yolks. 
Combine the panko, cornflakes, flour, black pepper and garlic salt. Stir.
Pour the oil in a warm pan, over medium heat. Let this sit while you prepare the chicken.
Cut each chicken breast into thirds. Wrap a slice of bacon around each piece, diagonally, to cover.
Press down on the ends of the bacon to seal them. Dip the pieces in egg. At this point, your mouth will likely start to water considering the smell of oil and the feeling of bacon grease on your hands. Place the pieces of chicken in the cereal mixture, and press down, quite hard, to coat with a sufficient layer. If pieces of the bacon show through, even better. 
The oil is ready when you place your hand under a running faucet and fling some of the drips into the pan and it crackles nicely. Place a few pieces of chicken in the oil, allowing them plenty of room. You'll want to cook them for about 4-5 minutes per side. That's a complete lie. You'll want to take them out much sooner than that. Don't do it. 
When the chicken is done, remove it from the oil and transfer it onto a plate covered with paper towels. Serve hot. 




A good accompaniment to this chicken is Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic. Here's the recipe for that goodness.


Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic
Makes 4 servings


4 large Red Potatoes
Sea salt (Or kosher salt)
Cooking oil
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Balsamic Vinegar
3 cloves fresh Garlic
2 sprigs fresh Basil


Heat the oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Cut the potatoes into long, somewhat thin strips that resemble french fries. Do not peel these potatoes. Don't do it.
The oil is ready under the same circumstances as the oil for the chicken.
Fry the potatoes for approximately 5 minutes, stirring occasionally with a metal spoon. 
While they're frying, mince the basil and garlic, both. Rapidly whisk together olive oil and balsamic vinegar until combined. Place them in a hot pan over high heat. Add the garlic and the basil. Cook for about two minutes, stirring frequently, until it has reduced slightly and the garlic is fragrant. 
Remove the french fries from the oil, transfer them to a plate lined with paper towels. Sprinkle generously with good salt. Eat them hot. Right before serving, absolutely drizzle the balsamic mixture over them.


And that's all. 

Stitched With Its Color

Today, I rode the bus into Portland to submit some forms at my school, at the last minute.
Often, riding the bus is an un-enjoyable smelly, cramped experience, and, well...today it was too. I felt actually rude for the amount of coughing I was doing at the rank smell of cigarettes that the air was literally thick with.


Since I find walking so pleasant, even and sometimes especially when I'm by myself, I of course walked to get something to eat. And, incidently, walked much too far, turned around and found what I was looking for. I just had to follow the smell of all manner of foods, ethnic and otherwise, and trace them back to the food carts. I had heard nothing but good things (from one person) of 808, which serves hawaiian food, and so, I went there. The food was amazing. I paid exactly seven dollars for a large portion of 808 fried chicken, which comes on a bed of cabbage, with a scoop of white rice and another, separate scoop of cold macaroni salad. I was too hungry for my own good, and so between then and now, have eaten all of the food, about three meals worth under more normal circumstances.


Waiting for the bus proved to be longer than I had hoped for, and it was very windy, and cold. Unfortunately, I had made a mistake  typical of myself, and seeing the sunshine, hadn't brought any sort of a jacket. Needless to  say, by the time I actually got on the bus, my hands were numb, and my nose was red, my eyes a little watery.
And I looked up at the ceiling of the bus above where I was sitting, and I saw that there was a poem printed directly over my head. I really do appreciate the poems written on the bus. There have been a few quite disappointing ones, but in general, they actually inspire some type of thought. This one definitely did. It went like this:


Your absence has run through me like thread through a
needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its
color.


Something about it almost made me cry, after I read it the first time. I realized, shortly, that it had something to do with the fact that I distinctly feel the absence of so many people at this time in my life. And in my mind, I saw the picture of me, with a giant hole through my stomach, threads of all different colors going through it, and leaving a trail on the ground everywhere I go. That sounds much more strange then I would like it to. Anyway, I sat and thought about it for almost the whole bus ride home. This thought, in my mind, it was set to music. The song was "Postcards From Far Away" by Coldplay. Now that I think about that, it's actually fitting, isn't it?


When I'm thoughtful, I've often been told that I look upset. I'd like to think it's possible that anyone happening to glance over my way more than once, wondered why this girl sitting all the way in the back of the bus surrounded by smelly, old men appeared to be so perpetually angry with the world (then again, I think that says enough right there, doesn't it). Really, I wasn't angry. Just a little bit lonely, heart-achy, thinking of an obscure poem on the bus on a beautiful afternoon.