With the crisp autumn weather in full effect, there is no better time to have something warm and filling to feast on. The following recipe is such an easy one-pot, low-prep, low-stress meal.
White Chicken Chili
1 rotisserie chicken, meat pulled off bones and coarsely chopped
1 block (at least 8 oz) jalapeno-jack cheese, grated
1 or 2 jars Northern beans (white beans)
1 or 2 jars salsa (mild, medium, or hot)
Salt to taste
Optional: half-n-half, tortilla chips, sour cream, cilantro
There you have the basics. Now, I apologize for the lack of exact measurements. That's not the type of cook I am unless I am baking, where I respect every detail of a recipe. The measurements also depend on your palate and the quantity of WCC that you wish to cook. I'm not a big bean person, so I prefer fewer beans and more chicken. I also like a creamier chili, so I tend to add more cheese and half-n-half. Hot salsa adds a really nice element of flavor to this recipe. There is not much "bite" left once everything is added in. Luckily, you can't really mess this up (unless you BURN it). Take it slow the first time. Make notes. The payoff will be worth it.
INSTRUCTIONS: In a large stock pot, add 1 jar of Northern Beans (beans AND liquid) and chopped chicken. Begin to heat over medium. Add 1 jar of salsa, and at least 8 oz. cheese. Allow cheese to melt, stirring frequently and adjusting heat as necessary. Study the consistency and try a taste. Add more cheese or some half-n-half if you prefer a creamier chili. Make sure to add the half-n-half gradually. You can always add more, but can't remove it! Continue to taste, stir, and add as needed. Shouldn't take long and you'll have a fresh pot of chili on the stove.
Eat as is, or top with sour cream and/or cilantro. If you have no clean spoons, use tortilla chips to feed yourself :)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Buddies
Buddies
(written by my father)
Morning
I awaken to the sound of
a friendly voice
not so far away
soon followed
by the National Anthem
nice beginning but
must do
those morning things
shaving
washing hair
that are always at least
mildly aggravating
but oh so necessary
if I am to face the day
with confidence
Yes quickly!
I hear little
footsteps
and a little voice
says
Daddy I can't sleep anymore
Buddies!
downstairs
we find
breakfast
nothing fancy
cereal
toast
perhaps a glass of
juice
or if it's Sunday
we might be the earliest
to arrive
at Hojo's
then a walk
in the new sunlight
a deep drink of
fresh air
the sweet song of
a cardinal
perched high
in a nearby tree
she goes her way
and I go mine
but only for awhile
soon we'll be together
again
it's great to be
Buddies
That is a poem that my father wrote about us oh-so-many years ago. I don't think I had my own copy until I was 19 years old, studying abroad in Mexico my sophomore year in college. My dad periodically sent me care packages of newspaper clippings from the States, letters about the goings-on in his day-to-day life, and some copies of poems he had written over the years--all reading material he thought I'd find interesting and a remedy to any homesickness I may have been feeling.
In any case, it has been years since I read the poem, but because my husband and I have our house up for sale, we have been cleaning and organizing like mad. And I came across this poem. And I cried when I read it. Then I cried as I was typing it into this blog. But the tears have nothing to do with the fact that my father and I are no longer "buddies." Unfortunately, he suffers from mental illness which makes it impossible for us to communicate in any "normal" sort of way or to have any resemblance of a normal father-daughter relationship. But that is life. People get sick, sad things happen. The sadness and frustration from the situation has numbed over the years. I hold on to many fond memories that I am lucky to have. ANYWAY...Nope. That's not why I'm so weepy. And it's not because I'm pregnant again and my hormones are raging all over the place, either.
I'm weepy out of sheer joy. Because when I read that poem I think of my husband and our son. They are buddies. And it is so dang heartwarming. In the morning when Mike has to do his "mildly aggravating" routine, there Drew is peeping into the shower, hoping to get a little laugh and a splash from Daddy. Or a little "pssht" of deodorant. Or a dollop of shaving cream on the nose that results in a joyous giggle. There they are...MY buddies.
(written by my father)
Morning
I awaken to the sound of
a friendly voice
not so far away
soon followed
by the National Anthem
nice beginning but
must do
those morning things
shaving
washing hair
that are always at least
mildly aggravating
but oh so necessary
if I am to face the day
with confidence
Yes quickly!
I hear little
footsteps
and a little voice
says
Daddy I can't sleep anymore
Buddies!
downstairs
we find
breakfast
nothing fancy
cereal
toast
perhaps a glass of
juice
or if it's Sunday
we might be the earliest
to arrive
at Hojo's
then a walk
in the new sunlight
a deep drink of
fresh air
the sweet song of
a cardinal
perched high
in a nearby tree
she goes her way
and I go mine
but only for awhile
soon we'll be together
again
it's great to be
Buddies
That is a poem that my father wrote about us oh-so-many years ago. I don't think I had my own copy until I was 19 years old, studying abroad in Mexico my sophomore year in college. My dad periodically sent me care packages of newspaper clippings from the States, letters about the goings-on in his day-to-day life, and some copies of poems he had written over the years--all reading material he thought I'd find interesting and a remedy to any homesickness I may have been feeling.
In any case, it has been years since I read the poem, but because my husband and I have our house up for sale, we have been cleaning and organizing like mad. And I came across this poem. And I cried when I read it. Then I cried as I was typing it into this blog. But the tears have nothing to do with the fact that my father and I are no longer "buddies." Unfortunately, he suffers from mental illness which makes it impossible for us to communicate in any "normal" sort of way or to have any resemblance of a normal father-daughter relationship. But that is life. People get sick, sad things happen. The sadness and frustration from the situation has numbed over the years. I hold on to many fond memories that I am lucky to have. ANYWAY...Nope. That's not why I'm so weepy. And it's not because I'm pregnant again and my hormones are raging all over the place, either.
I'm weepy out of sheer joy. Because when I read that poem I think of my husband and our son. They are buddies. And it is so dang heartwarming. In the morning when Mike has to do his "mildly aggravating" routine, there Drew is peeping into the shower, hoping to get a little laugh and a splash from Daddy. Or a little "pssht" of deodorant. Or a dollop of shaving cream on the nose that results in a joyous giggle. There they are...MY buddies.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
"Me" Time
My husband and I recently took our first overnight trip together post-baby. At 16 months old, our baby isn't so much a baby anymore, though. I knew it would be emotionally difficult for me, because, again, this was the first time that both Mommy and Daddy would be gone ALL NIGHT. Luckily, my own mother drove 7+ hours from Illinois just to give us the gift of a night away. It made it much easier for me knowing that Drew was in his own house sleeping in his own bed with all of his own things in their regular spots. Some people might be thinking--wow, 16 months and you haven't left your child for even one night yet--that's a little extreme. Others might be thinking--wow, 16 months--I could never leave my child that young. My own mom didn't leave me even one time overnight until she was in the hospital giving birth to my sister...almost five years to the day that I had been born. So we all have our own ways of doing things and like I tell other friends expecting for the first time: you have to do what feels right to you. Lots of people are ready to offer their advice--sometimes you'll shake your head in acknowledgment knowing that their "expertise" will never come in handy for you. Sometimes you'll want to take out a pad of paper and a pencil because everything that the person is saying feels like just what you need. But I digress...
So off to Chicago my husband and I went--on the train. Ridin' the rails. How lovely it was that neither of us had the stress of driving, especially in Chicago traffic. Nor did we have to pay for parking at our hotel, which usually involves either expensive valet service at the rate of $50 per day--or a parking garage several blocks away which still runs $25 or more. Not to mention navigating a city that neither of us knows well. And once there, you don't need a car anyway. I had ridden the train to Chicago before, but I had forgotten how very easy and relaxing it is. There is SO MUCH room. Even my 6'4" husband had plenty of room to stretch out. Also, there is quite a lack of "red tape" to go through to get on the train--no security checks, long lines, etc. Your luggage is either with you or a few feet away. It's almost scary to think of how loose on security it is, so I try not to think about it. I don't know how long that will go on, but it's nice while it lasts. As we waited for the train to arrive and heard its whistle signaling its near proximity, I fantasized that it was 100 years earlier and I was wearing a petticoat and Mike was wearing a suit and hat. I refrained from snapping any pictures as the train arrived lest I really look like a tourist.
We stayed downtown on Michigan Avenue within a few blocks of where the Magnificent Mile shopping began in one direction and a few blocks from Millenium Park in the other direction. We arrived with no set plans about what activities we would do so we window-shopped on the first day, went out to a nice Italian dinner in the evening, and marveled at the art in Millenium Park in the evening. It is a very strange feeling to be able to come and go as you please with no worries about a little one. I had to restrain myself from calling home too much, but it wasn't difficult because each time I did call Drew was doing wonderfully, and Grandma sounded like she was having fun, so I relaxed more and more. On our second day, we visited the Museum of Science and Industry in the morning and Shedd's Aquarium in the afternoon. I've had enough musuems for a while.
During our trip we marveled at the skyscrapers, noting how urban Grand Rapids' skyline had appeared until we came to Chicago. I'm sure it was easy to pick us out as tourists given that we walked with our eyes to the sky for the majority of the trip. I love to get away to urban areas, to get myself a little culture, but I am always thankful that the hustle-and-bustle, bus fumes, and stopped traffic are not my way of life. I was also fascinated that Mike mentioned on several occasions how fun whatever we were doing at the time (riding train, staying in swanky hotel, eating in fine restaurant, exploring museum) would be for our kids when they are a little older. It's a given that Mike will introduce our children to nature, fishing, camping, hunting, etc. as early as he possibly can, so I'm so glad that my outdoorsman husband is excited to expose our kids to the city someday. How awesome that he realizes the importance of teaching that there are more ways to live than what we find in West Michigan.
By the time we got on the train in the evening of our second day, I thought my feet were going to fall off. It has been a long time since I've stood for such extended periods of time and walked so far in two days. But luckily, it was time to stretch out and enjoy the scenery for our trip home. By the time we arrived, Drew had been fast asleep for a few hours. Being in his presence, I felt complete. I think back to pre-pregnancy and the travel I used to do. Traveling abroad with students, a "girls weekend" here and there, a summer roadtrip with my husband, and my annual spring break cruises with my mom--these were all things that used to be major priorities. I used to say--oh, I'll never give up "me" time. I'm not going to be one of "those" mothers. Of course I'll still go on spring break. Drew can stay with Grandma for a week. Oops. I was wrong. My "me" time now consists of grocery shopping, going to the gym, or when I really spoil myself: dinner out with a girlfriend. Maybe not as glamorous, but there will be time for more exciting travels someday. Of course I miss those experiences, but oh how I would miss my time with my son so much more.
So off to Chicago my husband and I went--on the train. Ridin' the rails. How lovely it was that neither of us had the stress of driving, especially in Chicago traffic. Nor did we have to pay for parking at our hotel, which usually involves either expensive valet service at the rate of $50 per day--or a parking garage several blocks away which still runs $25 or more. Not to mention navigating a city that neither of us knows well. And once there, you don't need a car anyway. I had ridden the train to Chicago before, but I had forgotten how very easy and relaxing it is. There is SO MUCH room. Even my 6'4" husband had plenty of room to stretch out. Also, there is quite a lack of "red tape" to go through to get on the train--no security checks, long lines, etc. Your luggage is either with you or a few feet away. It's almost scary to think of how loose on security it is, so I try not to think about it. I don't know how long that will go on, but it's nice while it lasts. As we waited for the train to arrive and heard its whistle signaling its near proximity, I fantasized that it was 100 years earlier and I was wearing a petticoat and Mike was wearing a suit and hat. I refrained from snapping any pictures as the train arrived lest I really look like a tourist.
We stayed downtown on Michigan Avenue within a few blocks of where the Magnificent Mile shopping began in one direction and a few blocks from Millenium Park in the other direction. We arrived with no set plans about what activities we would do so we window-shopped on the first day, went out to a nice Italian dinner in the evening, and marveled at the art in Millenium Park in the evening. It is a very strange feeling to be able to come and go as you please with no worries about a little one. I had to restrain myself from calling home too much, but it wasn't difficult because each time I did call Drew was doing wonderfully, and Grandma sounded like she was having fun, so I relaxed more and more. On our second day, we visited the Museum of Science and Industry in the morning and Shedd's Aquarium in the afternoon. I've had enough musuems for a while.
During our trip we marveled at the skyscrapers, noting how urban Grand Rapids' skyline had appeared until we came to Chicago. I'm sure it was easy to pick us out as tourists given that we walked with our eyes to the sky for the majority of the trip. I love to get away to urban areas, to get myself a little culture, but I am always thankful that the hustle-and-bustle, bus fumes, and stopped traffic are not my way of life. I was also fascinated that Mike mentioned on several occasions how fun whatever we were doing at the time (riding train, staying in swanky hotel, eating in fine restaurant, exploring museum) would be for our kids when they are a little older. It's a given that Mike will introduce our children to nature, fishing, camping, hunting, etc. as early as he possibly can, so I'm so glad that my outdoorsman husband is excited to expose our kids to the city someday. How awesome that he realizes the importance of teaching that there are more ways to live than what we find in West Michigan.
By the time we got on the train in the evening of our second day, I thought my feet were going to fall off. It has been a long time since I've stood for such extended periods of time and walked so far in two days. But luckily, it was time to stretch out and enjoy the scenery for our trip home. By the time we arrived, Drew had been fast asleep for a few hours. Being in his presence, I felt complete. I think back to pre-pregnancy and the travel I used to do. Traveling abroad with students, a "girls weekend" here and there, a summer roadtrip with my husband, and my annual spring break cruises with my mom--these were all things that used to be major priorities. I used to say--oh, I'll never give up "me" time. I'm not going to be one of "those" mothers. Of course I'll still go on spring break. Drew can stay with Grandma for a week. Oops. I was wrong. My "me" time now consists of grocery shopping, going to the gym, or when I really spoil myself: dinner out with a girlfriend. Maybe not as glamorous, but there will be time for more exciting travels someday. Of course I miss those experiences, but oh how I would miss my time with my son so much more.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Chocolate Strawberry Shortcake
Oh the joys of fresh summer fruit. Even better if you hand-pick it yourself. So I was particularly fascinated to fall upon this recipe in the Food Network Magazine. My mom and I are always searching for the perfect "shortcake" to accompany summer strawberries, and this is the first chocolate shortcake recipe I have come across.
Before I tried the recipe, I wanted to purchase the cocoa from Penzey's (my favorite spice store). I also used their vanilla extract, which I already had on hand. I chose Ghiradelli's Luxe chocolate bar for the 3 oz. of chopped milk chocolate--it handily came packaged in a 3 oz. size.
In the initial trial of the recipe, I skipped #3 and #4, and opted to simply slice up some fresh strawberries and whip the remainder of the heavy cream into homemade whipping cream (added a little vanilla and powdered sugar to taste). However, I think those steps sound delightful and will try them when I make the shortcakes again. Having just picked fresh raspberries, I was thinking that these shortcakes might also be delicious substituting the raspberries for the strawberries. For dark chocolate lovers, why not substitute dark chocolate for the milk chocolate? Then I searched the internet for chocolate whipped cream and found easy recipes for that as well as liquer-flavored whipped cream (like Chambord--oh how exquisite!).
The shortcakes tasted very chocolately--but not too sweet. They were in a word: perfect. I loved the biscuity-cakey texture. I would make them just to eat plain--or maybe topped with vanilla ice cream or a raspberry sorbet, should fresh fruit not be available (like in the winter). BUT, if you have the time, try them out while there is still fresh fruit!
Chocolate Strawberry Shortcakes
June/July 2009 Food Network Magazine
Shortcakes:
1 cup AP flour, plus more for dusting
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 T. dutch-process cocoa powder
3/4 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
4 T. cold, unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3 oz. milk chocolate, roughly chopped
2 large eggs
1/4 c. heavy cream
1 t. vanilla extract
Raw sugar for sprinkling
Toppings:
1 quart strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/4 c. granulated sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1. Position a rack in the middle of the oven; preheat to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Make the shortcakes: whisk the flour, granulated sugar, cocoa, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Using your fingers, rub the butter into the flour mixture until sandy. Add the chocolate. Whisk 1 egg, the cream and vanilla in a glass measuring cup; stir into the flour mixture with a fork to make a shaggy dough (there will be some dry bits). Turn out onto a lightly floured surface; pat flat until 1 1/2 inches thick. cut into 6 rounds with a knife or cookie cutter, using the scraps for the last cake.
2. Place the rounds on the baking sheet; freeze for 20 minutes. Beat the remaining egg; brush onto cakes and sprinkle with raw sugar. Bake until firm, about 20 minutes. Transfer to rack to cool.
3. Meanwhile, make the toppings: Toss half of the strawberries with half of the sugar in a bowl; set aside. Place the other half of each in a saucepan; cook over medium-low heat, mashing with a fork to make a thick puree, about 10 minutes. Cool completely. Whip the cream with a mixer until medium peaks form; swirl in the strawberry puree.
4. Split the shortcakes in half. Layer some of the strawberry cream and reserved fruit on the bottoms; cover with the shortcake tops. Finish with more berries and cream.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Chicken Caesar Pasta Salad
Goodness. I have been procrastinating posting this recipe simply because I do not how to spell Caesar. When I googled the word, there were at least five different spellings. So I decided to go with the spelling that the Little Caesar’s Pizza place uses, and guess what? It does NOT show up as misspelled in Microsoft Word. So it must be right...right?
Anyway, I once ate this salad at a potluck-type of meal provided for a hospitality room at a cheer competition. Apparently the cheer mom who made the salad is famous for it—I want to be famous, too! The main ingredients are simple: chicken, romaine lettuce, pasta, croutons and caesar dressing. I had never really contemplated mixing lettuce with pasta before, but it is a nice mixture of texture—especially if the lettuce is fresh and crunchy. Really, if you just mix the main ingredients together, you could take it to the table—that was the original salad that I sampled and decided I must someday duplicate.
However, in an effort to make the recipe “mine,” I experimented by adding other ingredients, which I think complemented the whole idea and made it quite a sassy little dish.
Main ingredients:
Romaine lettuce
Chopped/shredded chicken (I used rotisserie, but grilled would be great)
Boiled pasta (I used bow-tie, because I think they are cute)
Caesar dressing to taste (My fave brand: Litehouse Caesar Caesar)
Croutons
Other possibilities:
Toasted pine nuts (toast in dry pan until golden)
Shaved parmesan cheese (can buy shaved in grocery store)
Chopped red/yellow bell pepper
Chopped Genoa salami
Sweet grape tomatoes
Freshly ground pepper
Other tips:
• Depending on how many you are feeding, you will have to experiment with measurements. The pasta box will give you a good idea of serving sizes for the pasta portion.
• Make sure to SALT your pasta water—should taste like ocean-water, I learned on the Food Network channel one time. This is your only opportunity to season your pasta!
• Add salad dressing a little at a time—no need to drown the salad, hide all the good flavors, or add extra calories unnecessarily!
Anyway, I once ate this salad at a potluck-type of meal provided for a hospitality room at a cheer competition. Apparently the cheer mom who made the salad is famous for it—I want to be famous, too! The main ingredients are simple: chicken, romaine lettuce, pasta, croutons and caesar dressing. I had never really contemplated mixing lettuce with pasta before, but it is a nice mixture of texture—especially if the lettuce is fresh and crunchy. Really, if you just mix the main ingredients together, you could take it to the table—that was the original salad that I sampled and decided I must someday duplicate.
However, in an effort to make the recipe “mine,” I experimented by adding other ingredients, which I think complemented the whole idea and made it quite a sassy little dish.
Main ingredients:
Romaine lettuce
Chopped/shredded chicken (I used rotisserie, but grilled would be great)
Boiled pasta (I used bow-tie, because I think they are cute)
Caesar dressing to taste (My fave brand: Litehouse Caesar Caesar)
Croutons
Other possibilities:
Toasted pine nuts (toast in dry pan until golden)
Shaved parmesan cheese (can buy shaved in grocery store)
Chopped red/yellow bell pepper
Chopped Genoa salami
Sweet grape tomatoes
Freshly ground pepper
Other tips:
• Depending on how many you are feeding, you will have to experiment with measurements. The pasta box will give you a good idea of serving sizes for the pasta portion.
• Make sure to SALT your pasta water—should taste like ocean-water, I learned on the Food Network channel one time. This is your only opportunity to season your pasta!
• Add salad dressing a little at a time—no need to drown the salad, hide all the good flavors, or add extra calories unnecessarily!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sex and the City -- Still a Fan!
I'm a Sex and the City fan. I watched it on HBO when new episodes were still being aired, long before it was syndicated and showing on TBS every night. I cried when Carrie and Aiden broke up the first time, then I cried again when they broke up the second time. I own all of the seasons on DVD. Drew is not allowed to watch them--ever. But that's not the point of this post.
This past weekend, I decided to watch a season's worth of episodes. I chose Season Five for no particular reason and whenever Drew was napping or down for the night, I watched an episode or two until I was all done. Well, I have a new-found respect for the show's writers/producers because of how they portrayed breastfeeding. Many episodes in Season Five depict Miranda's trials and tribulations in her new role as a mother. In one episode, she is stressed out because Brady, her son, won't latch on. The writers very naturally and smoothly incorporated breastfeeding vocabulary into the conversation in a very real situation that many mothers experience. In another episode, Miranda takes a weekend trip to Atlantic City, and in the middle of the casino, she mentions that she's tired and it's time for her to pump. So very clever how the writers incorporated the idea that one can still be a working mother who is a successful New York attorney, take a weekend trip with her girlfriends, and still be committed to giving her child the best form of nourishment that exists. In yet another episode, the baby's father, Steve, asks Miranda if her nipples are sore. And the conversation again is natural, caring, and completely appropriate. And it fits seamlessly into the story line. I watched the whole Season Five and failed to see one bottle. I don't know if any of this was done purposefully or not, but kudos to the writers of one of my favorite shows. I love it even more now!
This past weekend, I decided to watch a season's worth of episodes. I chose Season Five for no particular reason and whenever Drew was napping or down for the night, I watched an episode or two until I was all done. Well, I have a new-found respect for the show's writers/producers because of how they portrayed breastfeeding. Many episodes in Season Five depict Miranda's trials and tribulations in her new role as a mother. In one episode, she is stressed out because Brady, her son, won't latch on. The writers very naturally and smoothly incorporated breastfeeding vocabulary into the conversation in a very real situation that many mothers experience. In another episode, Miranda takes a weekend trip to Atlantic City, and in the middle of the casino, she mentions that she's tired and it's time for her to pump. So very clever how the writers incorporated the idea that one can still be a working mother who is a successful New York attorney, take a weekend trip with her girlfriends, and still be committed to giving her child the best form of nourishment that exists. In yet another episode, the baby's father, Steve, asks Miranda if her nipples are sore. And the conversation again is natural, caring, and completely appropriate. And it fits seamlessly into the story line. I watched the whole Season Five and failed to see one bottle. I don't know if any of this was done purposefully or not, but kudos to the writers of one of my favorite shows. I love it even more now!
The Scent of a Memory
*sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffffffffff* I don’t really know how to spell the sound you make when you breathe deeply in an effort to take in a glorious scent, but at 3:15 p.m. today, when I left the school building to walk to my car, that is the sound I was making. Today was the first cutting of the school lawn. As soon as I exited the door, the sweet, sweet smell of fresh-cut grass was all about me. Fresh-cut grass is what the color green smells like. Not forest-green or sea-green, just pure green. And since we have had an abundance of spring rain lately, the smell was even sweeter than I remembered it. Or course, it’s really no mystery--the greener the grass, the sweeter the smell.
For me, aromas really trigger some great memories. For instance, fresh-cut-grass-smell reminds me of carefree childhood days rollerskating down the street and long ago high school dance team tryouts (they always took place in the springtime). Today the smell reminded me that my stress will very soon decrease from ten to zero, since I am fortunate to enjoy summer vacation. It also got me thinking about my other favorite aromas and how they connect to important experiences or simply make me smile. Here are some more of my favorites (in no particular order):
Warm, fresh corn tortillas: There is nothing quite like the earthy smell of freshly made corn tortillas—a warm, comforting aroma of toasted masa (the traditional tortilla dough made from ground up fire-roasted corn soaked in limewater). That smell takes me right back to my semester in Mexico when I was so young, but thought I was so old, and I did things that I would never do now (like eat tacos from a street vendor set up in a tin box with no running water). You can imitate the fresh-corn-tortilla smell to about 80% accuracy by heating some store-bought corn tortillas in the microwave, but the true smell can only be enjoyed by standing nearby when a corn tortilla has just been pulled off the griddle. Having lived in Mexico City for a semester my sophomore year in college, I know the true delight of actually doing just that. And here in the States there are certainly plenty of cities that have tortillerías (a tortilla shop where people make and sell them), as well as some restaurants that make their own tortillas in-house.
Pampers Swaddlers diapers: It’s only the Swaddlers smell that I really adore. Pre-motherhood, I had no idea such a sweet, delicate smell could even exist. The smell is in the neighborhood of baby powder, but so much better. That extraordinary smell reminds me of the first days of Drew’s life both in the hospital and at home. ***There is a chance that I might have saved a Swaddler diaper in a Ziploc bag just so I could open it sometimes and take a whiff down memory lane.*** Unfortunately, Pampers doesn’t make Swaddlers diapers in all sizes, so once your baby outgrows them, you’re out of luck if you love the scent as much as I do. Thank goodness Drew started in the “N” size (for Newborn), so we got to enjoy Swaddlers all the way through size 2 before making the switch. The other Pampers diapers smell nice, but not all cuddly and gentle and newborn-y. If we are blessed to have a second child, I would like to try cloth diapers, but not until after he/she would grow out of the Swaddlers. Just can’t give up that smell!
Puppy Breath: For non-animal people this probably sounds gross, but puppy breath has the cutest, most adorable scent. Unfortunately, it disappears with age. And I’m not a big fan of adult-dog breath. I didn’t grow up with a dog and would never have considered myself a dog-person…until I met Timber, our chocolate lab. It was a sad day when Timber lost his puppy breath. Sort of like Drew outgrowing his Pamper Swaddler diapers. Sigh.
Bumble & Bumble Hair-Thickening Conditioner: The shampoo smells the same, but the conditioner smell really lingers on your hands and in your hair. I always goo up my hair with the conditioner and then put my hands right by my nose and inhale deeply before rinsing them. I had never revealed that shower ritual until my younger sister had visited and used it at my house. She gushed about how much she loved the smell of it, too, so I decided my conditioner-smelling-ritual wasn’t so crazy after all. The memory linked to this is San Diego visiting my sister-in-law. That’s where I was when I first smelled the stuff. Imagine—an aroma so wonderful you remember where you are when you first smell it.
Starbucks coffee: I love the smell when you walk in the door—it says, “Everything is going to be just fine as soon as your Grande Non-fat Mocha w/ Whip is in your hands.” The aroma is only slightly better if it is wafting into my car, because that means that I am sitting at the drive-thru window and I didn’t even have to get out of my car to get my treat. Enough said.
Lake Michigan: Lake Michigan has a fresh, clean, salt-free-water smell. It smells like the ocean, minus the salty bite! You can smell it a little inland when the wind is just right, and that smell makes me want to drop what I'm doing and head straight for the beach. I moved to West Michigan a couple of years after I started teaching, and lived right by the lake. I lived in some GREAT places. The first house I rented was right on a lake that connected to Lake Michigan via a short channel. Then, I even got to live right across the street from the Lake Michigan. There was the old condo I rented, the road, and then the beach. Sunsets every single night. You can imagine the despair I experienced when the condo needed serious renovation and the owner decided to renovate and then double the rent. Bye bye. So very sad.
I don't live nearly as close to Lake Michigan as I used to, so I don't get my daily fix. However, I drive to the beach as frequently as possible. Smelling Lake Michigan is the closest thing to feeling like I'm "home" other than actually driving home to Illinois, where I grew up.
For me, aromas really trigger some great memories. For instance, fresh-cut-grass-smell reminds me of carefree childhood days rollerskating down the street and long ago high school dance team tryouts (they always took place in the springtime). Today the smell reminded me that my stress will very soon decrease from ten to zero, since I am fortunate to enjoy summer vacation. It also got me thinking about my other favorite aromas and how they connect to important experiences or simply make me smile. Here are some more of my favorites (in no particular order):
Warm, fresh corn tortillas: There is nothing quite like the earthy smell of freshly made corn tortillas—a warm, comforting aroma of toasted masa (the traditional tortilla dough made from ground up fire-roasted corn soaked in limewater). That smell takes me right back to my semester in Mexico when I was so young, but thought I was so old, and I did things that I would never do now (like eat tacos from a street vendor set up in a tin box with no running water). You can imitate the fresh-corn-tortilla smell to about 80% accuracy by heating some store-bought corn tortillas in the microwave, but the true smell can only be enjoyed by standing nearby when a corn tortilla has just been pulled off the griddle. Having lived in Mexico City for a semester my sophomore year in college, I know the true delight of actually doing just that. And here in the States there are certainly plenty of cities that have tortillerías (a tortilla shop where people make and sell them), as well as some restaurants that make their own tortillas in-house.
Pampers Swaddlers diapers: It’s only the Swaddlers smell that I really adore. Pre-motherhood, I had no idea such a sweet, delicate smell could even exist. The smell is in the neighborhood of baby powder, but so much better. That extraordinary smell reminds me of the first days of Drew’s life both in the hospital and at home. ***There is a chance that I might have saved a Swaddler diaper in a Ziploc bag just so I could open it sometimes and take a whiff down memory lane.*** Unfortunately, Pampers doesn’t make Swaddlers diapers in all sizes, so once your baby outgrows them, you’re out of luck if you love the scent as much as I do. Thank goodness Drew started in the “N” size (for Newborn), so we got to enjoy Swaddlers all the way through size 2 before making the switch. The other Pampers diapers smell nice, but not all cuddly and gentle and newborn-y. If we are blessed to have a second child, I would like to try cloth diapers, but not until after he/she would grow out of the Swaddlers. Just can’t give up that smell!
Puppy Breath: For non-animal people this probably sounds gross, but puppy breath has the cutest, most adorable scent. Unfortunately, it disappears with age. And I’m not a big fan of adult-dog breath. I didn’t grow up with a dog and would never have considered myself a dog-person…until I met Timber, our chocolate lab. It was a sad day when Timber lost his puppy breath. Sort of like Drew outgrowing his Pamper Swaddler diapers. Sigh.
Bumble & Bumble Hair-Thickening Conditioner: The shampoo smells the same, but the conditioner smell really lingers on your hands and in your hair. I always goo up my hair with the conditioner and then put my hands right by my nose and inhale deeply before rinsing them. I had never revealed that shower ritual until my younger sister had visited and used it at my house. She gushed about how much she loved the smell of it, too, so I decided my conditioner-smelling-ritual wasn’t so crazy after all. The memory linked to this is San Diego visiting my sister-in-law. That’s where I was when I first smelled the stuff. Imagine—an aroma so wonderful you remember where you are when you first smell it.
Starbucks coffee: I love the smell when you walk in the door—it says, “Everything is going to be just fine as soon as your Grande Non-fat Mocha w/ Whip is in your hands.” The aroma is only slightly better if it is wafting into my car, because that means that I am sitting at the drive-thru window and I didn’t even have to get out of my car to get my treat. Enough said.
Lake Michigan: Lake Michigan has a fresh, clean, salt-free-water smell. It smells like the ocean, minus the salty bite! You can smell it a little inland when the wind is just right, and that smell makes me want to drop what I'm doing and head straight for the beach. I moved to West Michigan a couple of years after I started teaching, and lived right by the lake. I lived in some GREAT places. The first house I rented was right on a lake that connected to Lake Michigan via a short channel. Then, I even got to live right across the street from the Lake Michigan. There was the old condo I rented, the road, and then the beach. Sunsets every single night. You can imagine the despair I experienced when the condo needed serious renovation and the owner decided to renovate and then double the rent. Bye bye. So very sad.
I don't live nearly as close to Lake Michigan as I used to, so I don't get my daily fix. However, I drive to the beach as frequently as possible. Smelling Lake Michigan is the closest thing to feeling like I'm "home" other than actually driving home to Illinois, where I grew up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
