In a previous life…

I think I was born in the wrong decade.

You see, I’m an old soul. While my college counterparts are out at the bars, pounding back God only knows how many shots every other night, you could find me at the yoga studio, practicing and spending time with other cool yogis who like to stand on their heads more than they like to stand on their feet (which sort of goes along with the whole pounding back drinks at the bar thing…just sayin’).

Or perhaps I’m home reading cookbooks or poetry or some corny inspirational self help book while wrapped in a cozy blanket, sipping a mug of hot tea.

Most likely I’m having dinner and wine with friends, all of which are a good 10 to 15 years older than me. Yes, it’s true. The majority of my very close friends are years older. But age is just a number…and none of them look a day past 25 . (My friend Stacy would say “Check’s in the mail, sunshine!” after a comment like that. Love her.)

I have several theories on why that my be. Why did my little ol’ soul age so darn quickly!?

Perhaps my sweet, inncocent soul is just trying to catch up with my rapidly aging spine. I’m probably the only 21 year old who gets an “arthritic afterglow,” as I like to call it, after simple activities like taking the dog for a walk,  or doing too many ardha chandrasanas in yoga class.

My other theory (among others…) is that perhaps in a previous life, I was a soulful jazz singer in a some swanky night club. I’d wear a chic black dress, and a sexy, sleek ponytail. I’d prop my self next to the pianist and saxophone player and enchant the crowd with songs like “At Last”  and “I Loves You Porgy” into the wee small hours of the morning.

Or perhaps I lived in France at one point, and was madly in love with a very kind man, who was also very madly in love with me. We’d stroll the streets by day, eating pastries and drinking cafe cremes. By night, we’d dine in beautiful restaurants, eating rich food, drinking good wine, and just living and loving life day by day. No sense of time urgency. No attachment to the gosh darn clock. Love would be everywhere, and not a moment would be wasted.

Hey, a girl can dream…

Last night I channeled my 1950’s housewife alter ego. Days are spent running errands, tending to the children, and cooking a feast at the end of a long day. Life would be simple.

I even had  the frilly apron, skinny jeans, and red shoes to match my character for the evening…

The inspiration for last night’s menu came from another domestic engineer, Ellie Krieger.

I’m slightly obsessed with all things Ellie, and for good reason. She’s a genius when it comes to adding flavor and excitement to healthy food and I highly recommend both of her cookbooks!

In true housewife fashion (although in my case it’s more like house dweller…my parent’s can’t get rid of me, and I’m stealing all of their food to make delicious meals. Although I’m sure they don’t mind the byproducts of the aforementioned food stealing…), I set to work around 5:00pm and slaved over a hot stove for hours.

Ok, I kid. Ellie’s a genius when it comes to that too. It really is So Easy

Anyway, I made a few changes to her original recipe (which I wish I could give you, but unfortunately can’t due to copyright reasons). Instead of sodium free diced tomatoes, I opted for the fire-roasted diced tomatoes to add a bit of extra flavor to the dish. I also only used about 1/4 or a medium red onion, mostly because onion and I don’t get along very well. It’s a love hate kind of thing.

Here’s a photo montage of my kitchen adventure…

I rang the bell, summoned the children, and put dinner on the table 45 minutes after I started cookin’. All in a day’s work!

After a long day of running errands and gossiping with the neighbors, I did what any sane domestic engineer would do…

…finished off the wine of course!

I took the rest of the bottle over to my friend Stacy’s house along with some leftovers from the evening’s bonding session with my old soul, and we had a good long talk about life, and all the ups and downs that come along with it. I’m so thankful for moments like that.

Wouldn’t have my old soul any other way.

Tagged as: cooking, recipes