"You know, it's a hard lesson to learn, but sometimes you just have to accept that some people leave your life forever. You just have to let them go."
Rachel and I sat on the grass in Dolores Park, eating burritos from El Buen Sabor at 18th and Valencia as I took in her eloquent explanation of this sad truth. For the past several years I've been attempting to establish contact with someone who was in my life when I was young, and even though he's been kind enough in his brief email responses to me, I get the feeling that he would be just as happy never to hear from me again. There was no huge fight, no one single issue--we just made each other kind of miserable when we were teenagers and then as we became young adults it didn't seem to improve. I've had several longer-lasting and more serious relationships since this one, but now, nearly a decade later, I continue to be deeply affected by what I imagine he thinks of me. At this point, it hardly seems I have any better option than to let it go.
I think that what I really want is the opportunity to have a do-over. Not the relationship itself but rather the conversations surrounding it. I was such an impulsive, angry adolescent when we knew each other, while he was articulate and calm. It kills me that that is how I am etched in his memory considering that, just like him, I've grown up.
But then I have to ask myself whether, if I ever had the opportunity, showcasing my developed maturity and gracefulness to him would actually change anything for me. In truth, I doubt it would. The only truly graceful thing left to do is to take a deep breath and let it go.
I'm still working on that part.
Love,
Gabi
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Fro-Yo
All I've wanted for the last 2 weeks is chocolate soft-serve frozen yogurt in a waffle cone, and I can't seem to find it anywhere in San Francisco.
San Francisco! Land of all things culinary. I mean, what the hell?
Don't get me wrong, I love local, organic ice cream as much as the next Dolores Park-dwelling yuppie. People line up along 18th Street for BiRite Creamery's honey lavender and salted caramel ice cream, all made from local Strauss Dairy. I get it, it's delicious. But to me, frozen yogurt, like fruit roll-ups and Honey Nut Cheerios, is less about the actual quality and flavor complexity, and more about what it reminds me of. In the case of fro-yo, it's going with my dad to Yogurt Farms on Mendocino Avenue in Santa Rosa in the late 1980's to buy frozen yogurt for our family to eat on Thursday nights while we watched The Cosby Show together. We always got one container of chocolate yogurt, one container of peanut butter yogurt and a cone for me. Jeremy, then a toddler, wore footie pajamas with a permanent chocolate yogurt stain. There were throw blankets and cuddling involved, and sometimes we even played Yahtzee during the commercials. Please don't gag--I was much edgier once I hit adolescence.
Fortunately, next week is Thanksgiving, and I'll be heading up to Santa Rosa, where my family and I will be eating local, organic food and drinking the best wine Sonoma County has to offer. We will absolutely not be watching The Cosby Show, and let's hope Jeremy (who is 23 and enormous) has retired the footie pj's, but I'm hoping to organize a trip to Yogurt Farms nonetheless. And maybe a little Yahtzee too.
Love.
Gabi
San Francisco! Land of all things culinary. I mean, what the hell?
Don't get me wrong, I love local, organic ice cream as much as the next Dolores Park-dwelling yuppie. People line up along 18th Street for BiRite Creamery's honey lavender and salted caramel ice cream, all made from local Strauss Dairy. I get it, it's delicious. But to me, frozen yogurt, like fruit roll-ups and Honey Nut Cheerios, is less about the actual quality and flavor complexity, and more about what it reminds me of. In the case of fro-yo, it's going with my dad to Yogurt Farms on Mendocino Avenue in Santa Rosa in the late 1980's to buy frozen yogurt for our family to eat on Thursday nights while we watched The Cosby Show together. We always got one container of chocolate yogurt, one container of peanut butter yogurt and a cone for me. Jeremy, then a toddler, wore footie pajamas with a permanent chocolate yogurt stain. There were throw blankets and cuddling involved, and sometimes we even played Yahtzee during the commercials. Please don't gag--I was much edgier once I hit adolescence.
Fortunately, next week is Thanksgiving, and I'll be heading up to Santa Rosa, where my family and I will be eating local, organic food and drinking the best wine Sonoma County has to offer. We will absolutely not be watching The Cosby Show, and let's hope Jeremy (who is 23 and enormous) has retired the footie pj's, but I'm hoping to organize a trip to Yogurt Farms nonetheless. And maybe a little Yahtzee too.
Love.
Gabi
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
bulgur bowl
So, unless you've been living under a rock, you probably know that the economy is not in awesome shape right now. Everything is more expensive, including food. Since not eating is obviously not an option, creativity is crucial when it comes to preparing tasty, affordable food at home. Recession or not, I adore bulgur, similar to brown rice but made from durum wheat. It's very inexpensive, high in fiber and is delicious in tabbouleh, pilaf, alongside fish or grilled vegetables, but my favorite way to use it is in the following recipe for the ultimate satisfying, delicious and CHEAP meal.
Recession Bulgur Bowl
1 tbsp olive oil
1 large carrot, diced
1 white onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup frozen green peas
hot sauce or prepared salsa to taste
salt and pepper to taste
2 cups dry bulgur
1 can black beans, drained
cilantro, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
sour cream (optional)
shredded pepper jack or cheddar cheese (optional)
avocado, sliced (optional)
more prepared salsa/hot sauce (optional)
In a large pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add the garlic, carrots, peas, and 1/2 of the onion. Cook until onions are translucent. Add bulgur and cook for another minute. Then stir in 4 cups water, a little salsa or hot sauce, if using, and the salt. Cover and reduce to low. Allow to cook for 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat the beans in a small pot or in the microwave, until heated through.
Once the bulgur is cooked and the beans are hot, assemble serving bowls with a bed of the bulgur mixture, a serving of beans, the remaining chopped onions and cilantro, and whatever other toppings you like. I like to sprinkle on cheese, salsa, a little avocado and a spoonful of sour cream. I also assemble a couple of tupperware containers of the layered mixture as well to bring to work for lunch.
While I don't foresee being elected to office anytime soon, I do feel pretty good about being able to prevent an economic crisis in my kitchen.
Also, if you're interested in reading more about healthy eating, check out feedbetweenthelines.blogspot.com, written by my friend since birth, Caitlin Leff. She is an expert and a brilliant writer.
Love,
Gabi
Recession Bulgur Bowl
1 tbsp olive oil
1 large carrot, diced
1 white onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup frozen green peas
hot sauce or prepared salsa to taste
salt and pepper to taste
2 cups dry bulgur
1 can black beans, drained
cilantro, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
sour cream (optional)
shredded pepper jack or cheddar cheese (optional)
avocado, sliced (optional)
more prepared salsa/hot sauce (optional)
In a large pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add the garlic, carrots, peas, and 1/2 of the onion. Cook until onions are translucent. Add bulgur and cook for another minute. Then stir in 4 cups water, a little salsa or hot sauce, if using, and the salt. Cover and reduce to low. Allow to cook for 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat the beans in a small pot or in the microwave, until heated through.
Once the bulgur is cooked and the beans are hot, assemble serving bowls with a bed of the bulgur mixture, a serving of beans, the remaining chopped onions and cilantro, and whatever other toppings you like. I like to sprinkle on cheese, salsa, a little avocado and a spoonful of sour cream. I also assemble a couple of tupperware containers of the layered mixture as well to bring to work for lunch.
While I don't foresee being elected to office anytime soon, I do feel pretty good about being able to prevent an economic crisis in my kitchen.
Also, if you're interested in reading more about healthy eating, check out feedbetweenthelines.blogspot.com, written by my friend since birth, Caitlin Leff. She is an expert and a brilliant writer.
Love,
Gabi
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I Hate Your Haircut.
To me, one of the best feelings in the world is presenting someone with something I've cooked and seeing their face light up as they taste it. It is, perhaps, one of the primary reasons I do what I do. Because even though I truly have a genuine love for food and cooking, the validation I receive in that moment is far more delicious than whatever I'm serving.
Recently, I have identified this as kind of a problem for me.
There is no question in my mind that I'm a people-pleaser--an accommodater. This quality is fairly common in women, particularly those in my age range, and it's always been true of me. It does, of course, extend beyond the kitchen, and into my personal and professional endeavors, and lately, I've been feeling pretty resentful of myself for it. Whether I'm on a date, smiling silently as my companion goes on and on about himself without asking me a single question, or agreeing to pick up a casual acquaintance at the airport when I really have better things to do, a knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach and a tiny voice in the back of my head scolds, "You shouldn't be doing this."
There is so much emphasis in this society on girls and women being "nice," because we're all so aware of what we'll be perceived as if we aren't nice: the "b" word, the "c" word--nothing anyone I know wants to be called. Beyond that, telling the truth about feelings is pretty scary, because there's always the chance that a true declaration can result in rejection. So when you think about it, being "nice" is a lot easier than being honest--at least on the surface.
It's been over four months since I started this blog, and I am thinking that it might be my way of beginning to tell my personal truth. If you've been following it for a while, you may have noticed that, even though I always connect my entries to food, the subject matter has shifted to more interpersonal matters--sort of like my very own soap box. (Plus, it's nice to be able to log in and edit a sentence or two if I decide I don't like the way it sounds. That's hard to do when you're trying to tell the truth about your feelings in person.) But regardless, when I click "publish," it's out there for the world to see, and I have to tolerate any judgement anyone might have, and not apologize for any of it.
My mother recently told me about a dream she had in which she confronted me about this very topic, saying to me, "Gabi, you have to start telling the truth." In her dream, I looked at her with fire in my eyes and replied, "OK. I hate your haircut."
And therein lies my new goal. To respectfully and kindly begin to let people know when I hate (or just strongly dislike) their proverbial haircuts.
Brace yourselves. I know I am.
Love,
Gabi
Recently, I have identified this as kind of a problem for me.
There is no question in my mind that I'm a people-pleaser--an accommodater. This quality is fairly common in women, particularly those in my age range, and it's always been true of me. It does, of course, extend beyond the kitchen, and into my personal and professional endeavors, and lately, I've been feeling pretty resentful of myself for it. Whether I'm on a date, smiling silently as my companion goes on and on about himself without asking me a single question, or agreeing to pick up a casual acquaintance at the airport when I really have better things to do, a knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach and a tiny voice in the back of my head scolds, "You shouldn't be doing this."
There is so much emphasis in this society on girls and women being "nice," because we're all so aware of what we'll be perceived as if we aren't nice: the "b" word, the "c" word--nothing anyone I know wants to be called. Beyond that, telling the truth about feelings is pretty scary, because there's always the chance that a true declaration can result in rejection. So when you think about it, being "nice" is a lot easier than being honest--at least on the surface.
It's been over four months since I started this blog, and I am thinking that it might be my way of beginning to tell my personal truth. If you've been following it for a while, you may have noticed that, even though I always connect my entries to food, the subject matter has shifted to more interpersonal matters--sort of like my very own soap box. (Plus, it's nice to be able to log in and edit a sentence or two if I decide I don't like the way it sounds. That's hard to do when you're trying to tell the truth about your feelings in person.) But regardless, when I click "publish," it's out there for the world to see, and I have to tolerate any judgement anyone might have, and not apologize for any of it.
My mother recently told me about a dream she had in which she confronted me about this very topic, saying to me, "Gabi, you have to start telling the truth." In her dream, I looked at her with fire in my eyes and replied, "OK. I hate your haircut."
And therein lies my new goal. To respectfully and kindly begin to let people know when I hate (or just strongly dislike) their proverbial haircuts.
Brace yourselves. I know I am.
Love,
Gabi
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