Ok. So it’s obvious I’m not winning the Blogger of the Year Award anytime soon. Well, that is unless Blogger of the Year Award goes to the blogger “most likely to fall off the face of the Earth,” or “most likely to not do anything they said they were gonna do.”

I’m gonna blame this hiatus, temporary or otherwise, on the stress of being 22 in Paris. Okay, you in the back – stop laughing. Yep, I said it. Stressed. At 22. In Paris, France. My experience there was incredible. Irreplaceable. Indescribable. And any other word starting with I you could imagine. Truthfully – it was the best, worst, hardest, easiest thing I’ve ever done.

I’m home sweet home now, back in the safety of my family, enjoying my cozy room which was beautifully rearranged and jazzed up in my absence, and much to my surprise, life still went on without me

My last month in France was…amazing. My parents came to visit for a week…and ended up staying an extra eight days thanks to Mount Eoiuaslkdjf;asidugfo;aelhrngkajsdnfkasjdf in Iceland which began to erupt the day before their departure, crippling travel in Europe for a solid week. Not to mention (in true French fashion) trains to and from Paris were on strike at the exact same time, making travel unreliable and any possibility of getting out of Paris nearly impossible.

I bid my parents an unexpected adieu in Paris, and headed to the south of France for a week during the third week of April, and holy moly, might I say I’m in love? I wish I had spent more time on the coast, as every second of my country side and Mediterranean adventure was blissful. We spent a night on a winery in Les Arcs, sipping the literal fruits of the land, as well as cooking a Provencal feast with the olive oil that was “fait a la maison.”

My heart was bursting out of my chest during every moment at the winery, and I was reluctant to leave the next day, although the train ride through Canne, and on to Nice served as an instant mood booster. 

Nice was…nice! Well, if that’s not the understatement of the year than I don’t know what is. The food scene wasn’t to impressive, but the views. Oh my, the views. I do believe I left Nice with bruises on my arm, leftover from the 93284 times I had to pinch my self in disbelief of what was before my eyes.

I tried my hand at gambling too – a little trip to Monaco, anyone? Okay, so I didn’t win big. In fact, I lost a euro checking my camera at the door. But heck, I went to Monaco!

My last few days in Paris were spent being lazy…half dreading ever leaving, and half counting down the seconds until I’d be whisked away to the airport to start my 20 hours of travel back home.

I said my see you later’s to my humble 7th arrondissement neighborhood,

and hugged my strangers turned best friends goodbye as the shoved chocolates and the sweetest letters I’ve ever read into my trembling hands on the day I left.

I’ve been home for about two weeks now, and everything is eerily the same. My friends have seamlessly introduced me back into their lives, as if I had never left. My yoga practice, which I fretted over way too much while in Paris (hindsight: always 20/20), feels mildly uncomfortable thanks to the tightness lingering in my hips from many afternoon walks through Montparnasse and Jardin du Luxembourg, but yet still feels comforting – like coming home for real. Coming home to myself.

My experience is slowly starting to sink in as I settle into my daily life again. Sometimes I’ll be doing some mundane task like washing the dishes, or taking my dog for a walk, or driving to school and have this vivid flashback of a Parisian afternoon. Was I really there? Was that just 2 weeks ago? Did that really happen?

I’m taking my last two finance classes this Summer and will be graduating in August.  For now, I’m mooching off of living with Mom and Dad until I really have to put my big girl panties on and venture out into the “real world.” Whatever that means.

But until then…I’m here. Just playin’. And writin’. And takin’ pictures. Talk to you soon

*tap tap* Is this thing on? Anyone there?

So, you may have been wondering where I took off to this past week. Or maybe you haven’t. Either way, I’m gonna tell you. You see, I ran off and joined the circus.

Okay, so really I just went to a circus museum (now there’s something I never thought I’d say) amongst other things this past week. Ironic really, as my life as of late feels a bit like a circus itself.

In the midst of the craziness, I had to take a little blog break to find a bit of balance. I felt like I was juggling (circus humor?) so many things at once that a little unplugging from the internet was necessary for my sanity.

As I’ve pondered these last few days over way to many over priced café crèmes in various venues around Paris, finding consolation in the pages of my favorite book, Eat, Pray, Love and procrastinating my studying for a French history exam that I bombed this morning, I’ve made some conclusions that I want to share…

Honestly, after this post last week, I was bummed. I appreciated so much of the positive feed back I got from you guys, but some of the comments hurt my feelings and, well, made me feel like crap. I started to feel guilty about my experience here and ashamed that not every aspect of this trip has fulfilled the dream like ideas so many have of what life is like in Paris.

You see, I expressed my feelings about food and my body in that post, and while yes, I’m in Paris and should just forget about it and enjoy, those fears are still a reality for me and not just something I could leave at home for a few months to pick up when I return. It kills me that it’s still an issue, and it kills me that I let other people’s words make me feel a certain way, but despite that, the words still stuck with me.

What I realized though, is that I’m human. Just like you, just like everyone else – I have insecurities, fears, joys. There are things I love, things that leave me so overwhelmed with joy I can’t help but sing at the top of my lungs, or walk around with a stupid grin on my face for the world to see. But there are things that upset me, that are hard for me, that overwhelm me so much I’m left gasping for air, almost suffocating with frustration and fear.

Novel discovery, I know. Human? Really? I know, I barely believed it myself at first, and my inner-perfectionist nearly laughed in my face with the idea that in fact, I am human, and (gasp!) have flaws and insecurities.

I came to Paris with expectations, you see. Certain things would be this way, and other things would be that way. Well, imagine my surprise when that thing was the other way, and the other thing was that way, and that some things just weren’t even on my radar at all.

Okay, so I’m not really making any sense, but do you get me? Despite my plans, and my expectations, the world had other plans, and I’ve finally realized that it’s time to just surrender and let it happen, whatever it may be, no matter how difficult.

Well, anyway.

As I sat down to write this week, I just couldn’t. You see, this Paris thing has really just turned my world upside down. I’ve learned so much, too much really, and am at times so overwhelmed that I can barely figure out which way is up. As my time here winds down, and home is closer and closer, I find myself equally ecstatic and terrified. Have I done everything right? Have I missed something in Paris? Will people still remember me when I get back? Will I still be loved and have a place where I used to? I work myself into a frenzy over these things, but I’m ready to just be and see what happens.

Ahh yes, sounds so simple doesn’t it? Just chill out. Just breathe. Just let it be. These words have become my mantra as of late, and I have realized that a few other things might help this too. One thing – taking photographs, not of food, but my new favorite thing – people. Imagine that!

As my professor encouraged us to take pictures of the inside of the museum (We were there to photograph a group of senior citizens enjoying the rides and eerie music…like I said…never in my life did I think I’d  be doing such a thing), I found my muse amongst my fellow classmates. They didn’t know I was taking these pictures, making them even more beautiful in my opinion.

Wanna know what else helps? Writing whatever I want – just like I’m doing right now. You see, I’ve felt so much pressure to make my blog a certain way. I felt like I was supposed to write like other bloggers – you know, say the same things, talk about the same issues, yada yada yada.

This is technically a food blog – but, I think it’s evolving a little which is completely understandable given the fact that I myself am evolving. I do love to ramble write, and as of late my interests have been in other things – so that’s what I’m going to write about on these here pages. No more writing to be like someone else, or to say what I think I should say. I’m just going to give it what I got, even if some days it’s a novel (like today) and some days I can barely muster up a word.

So, the new rule is – there are no rules. Just me, a pen a keyboard, and you – my readers. If you want, of course. Like I said – no rules.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- Rumi

Three days, countless conversations over coffee with friends, Jardin du Luxembourg readings of  Eat, Pray ,Love, and nostalgic day dreaming of Paris – a city I’m still in but already miss terribly, and here I am.

My weekend, which started on Thursday evening, was probably one of the best I’ve had yet. I unplugged from the internet (partly by choice, and partly because we blew a fuse and had no power…oopsie), and embraced the city like a true Parisian, strolling the streets and cafe hopping like it was going out of style. Coffee was sipped and good conversations were had and I found myself pinching my arm just to beg the question; is this really my life?

I took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Want to see? I’ll show you. I like to share…

We visited Jeu de Paume, a photography museum, on Thursday afternoon, for our photography class. Part of our photography assignment is to capture pictures of people just as they are in the style of Lisette Model, a famous street photographer whose work is on display at the museum. My friend Jane and I took the streets to play paparazzi yesterday. I made my attempts at embracing Model’s style of catching people in the moment. She says,

“It is the surface I am interested in. Because the surface is the inside…Everyone has a way of expressing one’s own body, not only the face. When people relax and they sit and they don’t even know one is photographing them, they are very much themselves.” 

And I just love that. 

It got me thinking. What would a photograph taken of me without my knowing say? What are the moments that I would want to be captured? How do I want to wear my soul, and show the world all the love I know I’ve got to share?

I asked Jane to tell me something she was passionate about as we sat at La Rotonde, sipping our third cafe crème of the day. She speaks four languages. Pretty amazing, huh? She’s one kick ass soul sistah, if I don’t say so myself.

She told me about how her next language would be Italian, but that Chinese isn’t really up on her list. French and Spanish are under her belt as well as a little Portugese and of course English, which is actually her second language, Spanish being her first. She laughed with excitement telling me about her love of language and communication, teaching me important French phrases, and not so important ones too, and encouraging me to do all the talking on our city adventure so I could practice my French too.

See that? That’s what joy looks like.

This whole weekend, I didn’t take a single food picture. Not one. Okay, I lied. I snapped a picture of this coffee.

But that’s all. And let me tell you, it was so liberating. I realized that I had been putting so much focus on telling you about the actual food I had been experiencing (This is a salad. It has vegetables in it. Yada, yada, yada. No shit, Sherlock. Pardon’ my French… I am, after all, in France), that I had been leaving out the stories and experiences that surround it, the part that would show you what’s inside, like the picture of Jane up there.

That’s what I’ve always wanted this blog to be about. Food stories – the feelings, thoughts and memories surrounding good food and the people it’s shared with. And of course, my silly stories of being a twenty-something yogini, trying to take my practice with me off the mat and into the world, all while trying to just figure myself out – an ever changing, yet intriguing process that I love and hate at the same time.

That’s what I want a photo of me to say. I’m so much more than a body, or a shape. There’s a lot inside this little heart that wants to get out – and I’ve decided to just wear my soul on my sleeve.

If I snapped a picture of you when you least expected it – what would it say? How do you wear your soul on the outside? What would you want a picture to say about you?

I’ve got lots of thoughts today, my friends. Lots of thoughts.

First off – the winner of a year long subscription to YogaDownload (chosen with Random.org)…

Congrats, Grace! I’ll email you shortly!

Thank you to everyone who entered – you all still have a chance to get a discount! Just enter the code HungryYogini at checkout through March 31st for a 35% discount on all classes through YogaDownload. Enjoy!

Now, onto the next order of business…

After a lunch out on the town, I feel compelled to share some thoughts with you. I do love good food. Mmm, yes I do. And dining out is such a treat…a time to relax and spend time with friends and family. But to be honest – as much as I love it, I hate it just the same.

You heard me. Hate it.

Heather summed it up really well last week in this post about her “rules for dining out,” and I found myself relating to exactly what she described. I go to restaurants a lot of the time with some preconceived idea of what I can eat, usually based on what I’ve eaten earlier in the day, what I plan to eat later, and however I feel about the usually imaginary ounce or two I’ve gained in the last 18 and a half minutes. Ridiculous. But true.

Now. Picture you’re living in Paris, home to some of the most delicious food ever. Everyday you leave the house, instantly smelling the macarons and fresh baguettes coming from the bakeries  on every corner, and watching gorgeous people dining in the cafes and restaurants on every street, sipping wine and eating foie gras and crème brûlée like it’s going out of style. 

Today I was amongst those diners, and ventured out to lunch with my foodie friend Jane, feeling both equally excited to have a meal in her company, and anxious about calories, sugar, and overindulgence.

The food was wonderful – we each ordered the Salade Popeye; a bed of spinach with bacon, parmesan, balsamic vinaigrette and a poached egg.

But this post isn’t about the food. There we sat – two young, beautiful girls in Paris, both worried about the same thing.

We talked about it – the frustration, the anger at the fact that we even felt the way we did; guilty about our past few months of indulgence as we eat our way through Paris, wanting to do something about it, but yet still wanting to fully embrace this experience and accepting the fact that right now, we are where we are and that’s that. Jane is a women’s studies major, and I too have read every book about female empowerment (amen, sistah friend!), but despite reading and studying strong women, confident role models who are so much more than some outside shape or figure, we both struggle. 

Doesn’t it just make you mad? Why, oh why, can we not just sit back, relax, and enjoy? Why does my Salade Popeye, in all it’s cheesy, bacon filled goodness, come with a steaming hot side dish of guilt and remorse?

I’ve read the books, I’ve gotten, err, help, and I take deep breaths ‘til I’m blue in the face, and still continue to feel that duality – the desire to surround myself with good food, and that little tinge of guilt for doing so.

It’s the ultimate food fight. No, not that messy lunch cafeteria food fight with spaghetti flying across the room – another kind of food fight; that internal battle that so many of us have going on at any given moment. Be it rules for dining out, or a special diet of some kind, there are different degrees to this food fight, but it seems to be such a recurring theme and I just want to do something about it, know what I mean? Why can’t we just stop the food fight?

Paris has challenged me in ways I can’t even describe. This has always been something that’s been a part of me, ever since I can remember at this point, but adapting to a new culture, language, and way of life has brought the challenge to a whole new level, forcing me to stay on my toes and more than anything, be gentle with myself. I like to think of the challenge as a positive thing though – yes, it gets hard, but I think I’m going to come out stronger in the end, yes?

I’m not sure what the solution is, but I wanted to talk about it, mostly because after my conversation with Jane today, I know I’m not the only one. It’s just one of those things that I think about often, but just don’t really know what to do about, know what I mean? But. I’m ready to.

What are your thoughts? Do you have rules, or feel that duality with indulgence and guilt? How do you deal with the “food fight?”

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll leave you with a little poem, a new favorite.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

                                                – Wendell Berry

I think Spring is my favorite time of year. It’s funny really… In Florida, we don’t really have seasons. Not for real. There isn’t really a distinction between Summer and Fall, Winter and Spring – ya know what I mean? It’s like so subtle, that you could almost miss it.

Well, after surviving my first winter in Paris (save for one year living in Connecticut – random), the turn of Spring has made me giddy with excitement, and has left me feeling a whole new sympathy for those living in colder climates full time. Props to you, guys. I don’t know how you do it!

It’s funny actually– I haven’t really taken into consideration the whole winter thing. Not until now that it’s over at least. I mean, I brought jackets and coats and what not – but I didn’t really think too much about how it would affect my body, how I feel and what I eat.

So as the weather gets warmer (we saw temps near the 70s today!), I’ve felt a major shift in my mood…and of course, my appetite.

Take the other day for example. I woke up wanting one thing, and one thing only. Green juice.

Well, the whole raw food, juicing movement hasn’t quite caught on here in Paris, but I finally found a place where I could get my fix and was so excited to get my hands on this yummy lunch today…

I went to Bob’s Juice Bar in the tenth arrondissement and got the formule – a large juice and a quinoa salad,

and was more than happy with my experience there! The people were very nice, and were more than willing to whip up something special for my juice blend. This one had cucumber, spinach, apple, ginger and lemon. And they even blended in some spirulina at the end. Oh. And they spoke English. Double bonus.

After enjoying my salad, and savoring every sip of my green drink, I came home to relax for a bit and finally spent a little bit of time in the kitchen after several days of a hiatus.

I whipped up a batch of my Stove Top Granola with a little some somethin’ extra this time – a little tropical mix of dried fruit. Yum.

I seriously love this stuff. And it’s so easy! I enjoyed the fruits of my labor (pun intended) over a little bit of yogurt this afternoon.

Other than granola, I haven’t much felt like getting in the kitchen lately. Perhaps it’s the sunny Paris days that are luring me away from the kitchen. Or perhaps it’s the less than easy work space…

Would you like the grand tour? It will just take a second

This is the extent of our counter space. And you have to hope you don’t need to chop anything and get into the microwave at the same time…

And our pantry. Well…

…it needs work.

Oh, and don’t get me started on the kitchen gadgets. This is our most heavy duty knife…

…and it couldn’t hurt a fly! Oh and that last picture also features our dishwasher….hand power, baby!

Looks like the, ahem, dishwasher has been slacking on the job. I see a few things in the sink! Oopsie.

Needless to say, my kitchen adventures (besides the granola which luckily requires no real effort) have been less than inspired. I like the whole get in get out of the kitchen method – preparing a dish on a weekend (like Vegetable Stew for instance) and eating the leftovers until you’re blue in the face they’re gone.

Speaking of leftovers, I jazzed up the last of my veggie stew tonight with some broccoli and fresh shaved parmesan.

Even these veggies had a little taste of the Spring that’s in the air – lots of zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes. Love.

Luckily the weather is turning and things that don’t require top much kitchen time like salads are sounded much more appealing. I have all these ideas in my head for really delicious recipes, and I can’t wait to put some of my ideas to the test when I get home – just bear with me for the next 5.5 weeks, k?

How about you? First – do you live somewhere with a real winter? Like…ya know. With that white stuff… I think it’s called snow

And do you notice your tastes changing as the seasons change? What are you craving? What are some of your favorite Spring recipes? What’s your favorite time of year?

I’ve been thinking about the word practice a lot lately.

When I first started, ahem, practicing yoga, it felt really strange to say “my yoga practice.” The worlds felt funny coming out of my mouth. Why not just say “do yoga?” Is that not what we are doing here? I didn’t quite get it.

Once I started thinking about the word though, and really thinking about what it means to practice something, it started to click. I started to see the practice in everything, really. That not only do I practice physically on the mat, but that there are practices in everyday situations.

Hmm, let’s see. I’ll give you an example. Take today for instance.

I woke up this morning, feeling stiff, rusty and just plain funky. My hips and hamstrings are tight beyond recognition, and a forward fold was just what I needed to work out the kinks. Well, my little forward fold turned into a 40 minute yoga practice. So in this case, it was practicing getting the kinks out and was based on how I was feeling today, not what I felt yesterday, what I felt weeks ago, and what I might feel tomorrow. Are you followin’ me?

After my yoga session, I munched on my new favorite breakfast – a sliced pink lady and a very generous spoonful of almond butter. Yum.

Fueled with a healthy breakfast (followed later some leftover vegetable stew), and feeling fit and healthy after my yoga session, I headed to class  at my photography teachers apartment right by Notre Dame, partaking in a different kind of practice – the practice of well…balance? This one might be a stretch, but I was craving something…naughty.

Oopsie.

The word practice came up yet again in photography class. We were practicing creative writing, not doing it. Some days the words flow, other days you struggle to pick the pen up. You don’t just sit down and do it. Each time you pick up the pen, it’s different, a reflection of your circumstances at that exact moment.  Same with taking pictures – you don’t just take them, you practice framing, and composition and all that jazz. And yoga too – you don’t just do certain poses, you practice what feels right. I think this is getting clearer now, yes?

After several adventures in creative writing, and a few technical tips on photography, my friend Jane and I left class and wandered through the 5th arrondissement, taking in the sites, and stopping for a sweet treat.

Now this, this was a practice in letting go for me. Gelato…before dinner. It’s not just something I can do easily. It’s a constant practice of letting go, relaxing, and enjoying, well, life. Because life is too short to not eat flower shaped gelato!

The practice of letting go, and enjoying the moment continued at a nearby cafe for some French onion soup, a glass of red wine, and a heart to heart with a good friend that couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

I’m not sure why, but the world practice was heavy on my mind today. Jane and I talked a lot about our experience here in Paris, and how we’ve been less than gentle with ourselves – expecting to just do things, that everything would come easily and as it normally does. But this experience is yet another practice in the grand scheme, and a huge lesson for whatever practices come our way.

We realized today, sitting in the cafe, sipping wine and devouring steaming hot soup, that it’s okay to just take the practice as it comes. Perhaps I’m talking myself in circles here and at this point, you either think I’m nutzo, or you are totally getting what I’m saying. I’m gonna hope that it’s the latter.

I think the bottom line is that everything is a series of practices – you never just do something. Every time you pick up the pen to write, or you hop on the mat for a yoga session, the experience is different – it’s a practice that relates to where you are in that exact moment. We are constantly changing and evolving, and every day the practice, the experience, is different and shaped by what has come before.

I wanted to share these thoughts, however random and far-fetched they might sound, because thinking about it in this way today made me feel a little more..hmm, how shall I put this…gentle Yah, gentle is a good word. Gentle towards myself and towards the daily ebb and flow of life. Yes, a  lot of my practices are different these days – physically, mentally, socially. It’s a different kind of practice right now. And everyday is different. This is no new thought, or novel idea, but maybe sharing my thoughts with you can help you be more gentle on yourself too – at least I hope!

Well, I’m done rambling for today. Speaking of practices – don’t forget to enter my giveaway for a year long YogaDownload subscription! There’s also a coupon code there for 35% off of your purchases through March 31, so everyone can get in on the yoga practice lovin’.

What do you think? Do you relate to the word practice in this way? What are some of your daily practices? What does the word mean to you?

Practice and all is coming.

                      – Sri K. Pattabhi Jois

Hey guys! Thought I’d start the day with somethin’ fun!

As I’m sure many of you have experienced, a home practice is difficult to develop. This trip to Paris has certainly put mine to the test, as classes are expensive here and my time to get to the studio is limited. I’ve used lots of tools like YogaVibes and YogaDownload to keep my practice going. Sometimes I follow the teacher completely, and other times I draw from what they teach to come up with my own practice. Sometimes I’ll add to their version of sun salutes, and sometimes I’ll just go my own way completely. You get the picture…Things like this really help a home practice and keep it fresh.

So why am I rambling on and on? Well, the kind people at YogaDownload have offered all of you guys a 35% discount on all of your YogaDownload purchases! If that’s not spreadin’ the yoga love, then I don’t know what is. Here’s how it works:

Enter the code HungryYogini at checkout to get the discount. The coupon is good through March 31st, so salute the sun away!!

As if that wasn’t fabulous, YD has been even more generous.One lucky reader is going to win a One Year subscription to YogaDonwload!!! Here’s how to enter:

1. Leave a comment here – easy as that!

2. For an extra chance to win, post a link on your own blog, then come back here and let me know you did so.

Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy, right? I’ll announce the winner this Thursday March 25th, 8pm EST.

Bonne chance, mes amis!

Spring break has come to a rather uneventful close. No crazy parties to speak of (well, we did make an appearance at The Popin on Friday night – apparently it’s socially acceptable to wear a rat on your shoulder as if it were a parrot in public here. “Hey, isn’t that rat underage!?” Good times), just some much needed down time, lots of reading and writing, and some spring cleaning leaving me with a de-cluttered bedroom and a load of laundry smelling of Spring time.

Oooh and a visit to the olive man yesterday…his goodies (?) made an appearance in today’s lunch.

Lettuce, red bell pepper, and zucchini from my produce guy, and olives and dolmas from my olive guy. It’s so weird – I think I finally realized I live here this Spring break…I have an olive guy, a produce guy, a cheese guy. Yep, all mine.

I spent the afternoon wandering the streets, soaking in the glory of a light jacket and moderate temperatures. That’s another strange thing – changing seasons! Darn. Guess I’ll have to get a new wardrobe

I headed to the marais, the best place to be on Sundays in the city in my personal opinion, and celebrated Spring with a frozen yogurt and a new cotton dress, then headed to the Bastille area to pick up a couple spices for a little some somethin’ I had in mind for tonight’s dinner.

But not before seeing this.

Ohhhh, Paris. You just never know what you’re gonna get. Pack of crazy rollerbladers? Why not!?

After my three hour walk, I headed home to spend some time in the kitchen. I wish I could give you a recipe, but since I have no measuring tools here, we’ll think of it more as a method. Or perhaps, maybe a little inspiration to get in the kitchen and just do what smells right, so to speak…

I made a stew type thingy. Not sure what I’d call this really, but I usually like to make a bunch of veggies on Sundays since the weeks are so hectic and have them on hand. I used up my new produce (ya know, from my produce guy) and came up with this creation. It had:

- bacon

-onion

- garlic

- Italian seasoning

- mushrooms

- zucchini

- eggplant

- tomato paste

- 1 can cherry tomatoes (that I crushed later with a fork)

- 1 can cannellini beans

I started by sautéing the bacon, then added the onions once a little of the fat had melted. Once the onions were translucent, I added the garlic and Italian seasoning, sautéed for a minute, then added the mushrooms, zucchini, and eggplant.

Once all of that cooked down, I added the tomato paste, canned tomatoes, and cannellini beans. I always do the tomato paste like my Nana does – I let it cook with the veggies for a bit before adding the canned tomatoes so it can sweeten up and almost caramelize. The extra minute works wonders.

This was such a yummy dinner after a long day of walking and went perfectly with a piece of quinoa bread with fresh farmer’s market goat cheese…

Yum. I do love me some chevre. I especially loved the Spring/Summer-esque veggies. I’m already excited to get in the kitchen this Summer – my ideas have been flowing and I have tons of great ideas for when I have all of my kitchen tools at my disposal.

The rest of my evening has been spent reading and watching garbage on Netflix. Nothin’ like a little LA Ink on a Sunday night

I’ll leave you with a new favorite. I constantly find myself reading poetry – looking for it, reading it, talking about it, thinking about it. I just love it. 

This is what you should do:
Love the earth and sun and animals,
despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
stand up for the stupid and crazy,
devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants,
argue not concerning God,
have patience and indulgence toward the people…
reexamine all you have been told in school or church or in any book,
dismiss what insults your very soul,
and your flesh shall become a great poem.

                                             – Walt Whitman

Random questions…

What’s your favorite TV show?

I’m not sure, but one day this week I just decided I wanted to watch LA Ink. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m really loving it. They are such artists!

Other than what I can see on Netflix, I have no idea what shows or movies are out right now. We have no TV here, but I kinda like it.

What’s your favorite poem? Favorite poet?

I love all things Rumi lately. Please share your favorites, as I’m always looking for new stuff!

Today I met up with a new friend Claire for lunch at an organic food restaurant in the 9th arrondissement called Pousse Pousse.

We went for a late, leisurely lunch and were so excited to eat some of the things we missed from back home. All the food here in Paris is so fresh, but many of my dining experiences have been with French foods and ethnic foods prepared with lots of butter and other yumminess – a little different than what I eat normally at home.

I’ve been craving some fresh stuff. You know, like the crazy hippie healthy stuff. Like sprouts. And seeds. And nuts, like me.

Oooh, and juice…

Oh, juice, how I miss you. This had carrot, apple, fennel and ginger. I usually prefer a green juice, but this was so delicious and refreshing. It was prepared moments after we ordered it, making it super fresh and very tasty.

In true French fashion, we had the three course formule over the course of two hours starting with a super hot carrot and lentil soup.

They also served some raw flax crackers, and of course, French bread, as no meal would be complete if served without it.

Next course – salad, a nut pâte, a tart with endive, and a delicious salad of cucumbers and seaweed in some kind of spicy sesame vinaigrette.

And finally, dessert. Oooooooooooh my. Dessert.

Chocolate, Je’ t’adore. This was warm and ooey gooey. Everything chocolate should be.

And this! Banana soft serve anyone? This was non dairy ice cream that was just banana, agave and…tahini! So delicious! Can’t wait to make this when I get home!

The food was delicious, and the company was even better. Claire is a fellow yogini studying in Paris for the semester so much of the conversation revolved around yoga – and of course girl things like boys and clothes

After lunch (which lasted until 4pm, a quality I just love the French for!), my roommates and I headed over to Notre Dame to hang by the river, sip some wine and just relax for a bit.

Of course, life is all about balance. Therefore, wine is necessary. Always.

Oh, good news. Now that the weather is warm, my handstand tour of Paris has begun.

Muahaha.

Have a happy weekend, my friends!

Bring the pure wine of
love and freedom.

But sir, a tornado is coming.

More wine, we’ll teach this storm
A thing or two about whirling.

                           -Rumi

Santé!

Today was just a lazy day. Those always feel good every once in a while, especially after a long week…or say, climbing 700 steps up the Eiffel Tower. Ya know…normal things like that. Yep, sometimes you just gotta sit back, relax, and kick your feet up.

After donning my capris and ballet flats, I spent most of my day like this…

and then like this….

with some of this in between…

Ooooh, salads. I’ve missed you. This one was mixed lettuce with avocado (which I’ve also missed dearly) and some leftover sautéed veggies – caramelized onion, red bell pepper and eggplant – all with some balsamic vinegar, olive oil and grey salt. The veggies were cold, but were perfect on a little salad for lunch.

Oh, do you see that little red journal in that picture up there? Not only do I divulge my innermost, darkest, deepest feelings and secrets, but I also write lists. Grocery lists, to do lists, things to make when I get home lists – the usual everyday lists. I love lists.

Anyway. I might have to devote a whole page to salad creations I’ve been dreaming up. And other creations. Mostly food related. Geez. It’s kind of like that all you want is water but you’re in the middle of the desert so you can’t have it kinda feeling. My kitchen is so tiny, and we have one tiny knife that probably couldn’t even give me anything worse than a paper cut if it grazed my skin. Ooooh, and my blender. And my oven. Okay, I’m moving on now.

I did manage to get to one neat spot today…Shakespeare & Co. After sitting on the edge of the Seine this evening right by Notre Dame, we walked home stopping in the little book store to browse, play the piano and use the type writer. Love this little store. It was my second time there and I’m certain I’ll be heading back soon.

I bought a copy of Eat, Pray, Love – my very favorite book. I’ve read it at least three times and can’t believe I didn’t bring it with me here. I’ve been thinking about the book a lot lately and couldn’t resist buying it when I found the last copy they had there. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside carrying it home in the 60 degree weather that has graced Paris for the past few days.

I know Elizabeth Gilbert just came out with a new book that I’m definitely going to read when I get back to the US. And you know I’m counting down ‘til when the movie comes out.

Julia Roberts, don’t fail me now! I do love Julia so hopefully she does my favorite book justice. Book to movie type deals are hit or miss. Let’s hope this is a hit! 

What is your favorite book? Books to movies…like? Dislike?

I thought I’d leave you with a new favorite poem…I do love me some poetry.

Cutting Loose

Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,
you sing. For no reason, you accept
the way of being lost, cutting loose
from all else and electing a world
where you go where you want to.

Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder
that a steady center is holding
all else. If you listen, that sound
will tell you where it is and you
can slide your way past trouble.

Certain twisted monsters
always bar the path — but that’s when
you get going best, glad to be lost,
learning how real it is
here on earth, again and again.

          -William Stafford