Pancakes in the morning

I love home movies.

Like this one.

Becky Breakfast In The Morning. from travispitcher on Vimeo.

My Saturdays have been stolen

Saturdays are a special day.

They're the only day of the week when I get to sleep in.

Eat a luxurious breakfast.

Wander around the farmer's market hand in hand with my husband while bantering happily with the vendors who are now our friends, and accepting the free apple here or jalapenos there.

They are a nice day when we can come home and relax and I can bake a tasty treat with the fruit we just scored and clean up the living room, and finish a project here or a project there that I've been working on. (Like all the hats I've been knitting.)

Travis and I might sit on the couch, eating peaches and milk and watching a movie with the door open so a breeze comes in.

BUT NOW.

I work every Saturday morning.

I come home in the afternoons stressed and tired and collapse into our untidied living room.

Travis says things like "I got these apples today," and hands me a bag of mushy-ish apples. (Can't he even choose apples without me?) and says "And they were out of eggs so we have to go get the tasteless salmonella eggs from the store."

And I don't want to bake or clean because NOW I want to relax.

So we sit on the couch with the door open, so it airs out the weird stink of our house and watch a movie while eating something neither delicious nor romantic, like potato chips until we feel sick because of all the sitting and the stinking and the chips.

And I blame my job.

Because clearly I am happier at home than elsewhere.

Unless elsewhere is the farmer's market.

Candy Corn

All of my favorite candies are seasonal.
I wait impatiently all year for candy canes (and peppermints are not the same), and those caramel-filled Cadbury eggs, and -of course- Candy Corn.
Candy corn is the number 1.
I have eaten an entire bag of Autumn Mix Candy Corn this week. I eat them in order.
A regular, a chocolate, a regular, a chocolate, a pumpkin (green top first), then I repeat.

Sometimes in February or August I get the craving for Candy Corn and buy the cheap-o generic yellow corn-only Candy Corn in the candy isle of gas stations.
I think "If I can't have real candy corn, this will have to do."
But it doesn't do.
It makes matters worse.

Because that candy corn is so filled with corn syrup that it hurts my teeth.
But the equally unhealthy Brachs Candy Corn is made with real honey, and something about that real honey balances out the sugar and corn-syrup and I eat it until I throw up and then I think
"I need another bag, since that last bag was wasted."

I never feel remorse for eating it.
Although my current bag is nearly empty and I will not eat any more after it is.

For at least a few days...

The tip-top tier

I was just looking at some wedding pictures and I love how teeny-tiny our cake looks!
Especially since I've been watching Cake Boss and these people have jumbonormous cakes, and ours is just like the tiny tip-top of a cake.
But I love it.
And there was just enough to cut and eat and it was delicious.

And also, I think my dad had a piece... but no one else did.

Aaand I think my cousin Nichole took this picture.

It was on my facebook...

p.s. Look how long my hair is!

Aaand what a big dork I am in that sweater. In my defense, I was freezing.

Beer breath

I have recently perfected this gorgeous and delicious bread.
If pressured by my very hungry husband (boy can he eat!) I can make it several times a week.



It is almost always perfect. I am very proud.
But the thing I like most about it is the smell before you cook it.

You pull the dough out of the fridge where it's been resting for a day or two, take off the Saran wrap and BAM!
The sour smell of dough and yeast, smelling exactly like beer breath hits your nostrils.

You think I am gross for saying that I love that smell.
And let me say, I do not usually like when people have beer breath.

BUT beer breath is not a smell that I get whiffs of on a regular basis here on BYU campus.
And to be frank, my high school friends were pretty much all good Lutherans who didn't really drink, or people who liked me enough not to invite me to parties they'd be drinking at.

So the only time I ever really smelled beer breath up close was when I was with my family.
The Froelich side.
And let me say, Froelichs are kissers. This is something I didn't know until Travis started meeting people and going "Ew gross, you kissed your grandpa on the mouth" or "I can't believe you've just kissed every aunt and uncle in this entire room. Do I have to?"


Yep, we're kissers. We pucker up our lips and give each other a kiss on the cheek, or in the case of grandparents, sometimes on the lips.
And I never noticed.

It was very normal to me.

But the smell of this bread, when I pull it out of the fridge to let it rise smells like tickly mustaches, and curling up in an armchair with my Grandpa Roger, and even (dare I say it?) a little like holidays.
I'm sure that my good Mormon parents are horrified to read this.
Embarrassed maybe that beer makes me think of my family.

But I have a very distinct memory of sitting in an armchair with my grandpa, asking for a sip of his pop.
He gave me a drink all right, but it was not soda. I choked while he chuckled in his red-cheeked grandfathery sort of way.
Oh, how funny they were.

There, sadly, were several other times when I fell for this trick.
Kids are just plain stupid.
But after I learned to smell the beer before drinking, I wised up.

And yet. I smell beer and I think of grandpas and uncles and Minnesota and it makes me feel nostalgic and silly.
And I like it.

This is what I think of when I smell that bread.
This is me in a night gown, snuggled up on an armchair with Grandpa Roger, who does not look as jovial as usual.
But I seem very happy, despite my terrible bowl cut.


And this is an unrelated but awesome photo that I came across while looking for the picture above.



Dad, nice mullet and mustache.
Mom, nice mullet and blue eye shadow.
Creepy.
But that cute baby is me.
(Their anniversary just came and went recently. Happy 22 years of marriage, you guys. You've only gotten better at doing your hair.)

Sushi

Sushi is both easier and more difficult to make than I expected.

It is easier because it turns out that all you do is take a sheet of Norri (roasted seaweed sushi paper) and pile on some sushi rice, a few slices of cucumber, avocado and imitation crab (who can afford real crab?) and then roll it up.

BUT it is much more difficult to roll than it should be.
And if, like me, you think of putting a handful of each ingredient on the Norri before rolling it...
let me advise you: don't.
Just a little will do.

Or else your roll will taste good but look like a no-armed man with a mallet rolled and chopped it.
You will have to eat it with a spoon.

But it will be delicious.

And here's the price breakdown of making it yourself.
Enough fake crab for a California roll: about .25$
Enough avocado for a California roll (1/4avocado): .25$
Enough cucumber for a California roll (1/8 cucumber): .13$
Enough sushi rice for a California roll (1/4cup): .10$
AND 1 sheet of Norri: .20$

Making the grad homemade total of...

93 cents a roll!

I'm starting to think, who cares if you have to eat it with a spoon in the comfort of your own home with a side of Animal crackers and extra sushi rice?

If it costs less than a dollar, it is totally worth it.

And another tip from a now seasoned sushi-chef: Those bamboo mat things might seem like a non-required for sushi-making scam for your money.
They aren't.

Buy one, or your rolls -if they manage to hold together (as Travis managed to make the second roll hold) will fall apart the moment you touch down to the soy sauce bowl.

from scratch

Before Travis and I were married he believed me to be a terrible, terrible cook.
Which I am not. I'm actually quite good.

In his defense, in all the time we were dating I had only made him two dinners and one plum cake.
All of which were terrible failures.
The food tasted, looked and was terrible, so it was alright to assume I was a terrible cook.

In MY defense, I had no kitchen, no money for actual groceries, no supplies like spices, flavorings, or sauces except for soy sauce (and I used Soy Sauce for all it was worth) and I had none of the beautiful pots, pans or utensils that I got when we were married.
All I had was one scraped up and very horrible pot and a rice cooker that only half-cooked rice.

So most of the food was either frozen or just-add-water before I tried to turn it in to a meal.
Just like any unmarried college-student though.
Stop with those accusing looks.

There were some things I had down when we got married and that I could make amazingly well even before I had my own kitchen.
Chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, and fruit pies among them.

Okay, so mostly desserts.
But there was one dessert that I was not an expert at making and had, in fact, never even had homemade.
Snickerdoodles.
Snickerdoodles were not a homemade cookie. Snickerdoodles were bought on occasion from bookstore cafes.

If one wanted to make snickerdoodles then one would merely roll sugar cookies in cinnamon/sugar. Duh.

Travis LOVES snickerdoodles. And somehow (amazingly) he can tell whether or not I've added that one little teaspoon of powder that makes snickerdoodles different from sugar cookies. Cream of Tarter, which when we were newly married I usually just skipped and didn't notice the loss.
But Travis did.

So I persevered. And I made snickerdoodles all the time.
And now, I can announce to the world that I, Becky Pitcher, am the baker of awesome, awesome snickerdoodles.
The recipe I use is here, but I admit that it took me several times to get it down perfectly.
It probably will not take you so long if you actually use cream of tarter, actually chill the dough, actually cook it for the correct amount of time, actually roll it in LOTS of sugar and cinnamon.

But I am very proud.
It caused someone to recently exclaim "Oh wow, these are good! Are these from scratch?"

And I literally stared at her for about 30 seconds while the phrase "From Scratch" did not ring any bells.
Of course my food is from scratch.
Are there other ways to make food?
My mind went around and around and when I finally mumbled "Yes" she had moved on. It took me too long to respond.

Oh! How quickly the mind forgets.
Just a year ago, I ate nothing "from scratch" and if I did I would lay afterward in a food coma, thinking about delicious it was and how much I missed my mother with her full kitchen and food-stained cookbook and excellent baking abilities.

Now I am trying to be that. A woman with a full kitchen, dozens of well-used and food stained cookbooks and excellent baking abilities.
And I'm already forgetting I was ever anything else.

Ungaurded Fruit

Travis and I had a very good Family Night this week (even though every single night is family night at the Pitcher home).

First, we spent about an hour at an undisclosed location (we wouldn't want you to go stealing our fruit would you?) picking the sweetest dark red plums. An entire grocery bag full!
Then we spent about an hour and a half at a different (but also undisclosed) location picking a grocery bag of blackberries.

This free unguarded, mostly untended fruit is the tastiest, freshest food I've ever had.

We came home with sticky feet, scratched up arms and reddish-blue hands and teeth.
Mmm. What a good Family Night.

And what a good Family Morning, eating fruit for breakfast.















p.s. wanna talk about how pretty these pictures are? Thanks 28mm lens!

Homemaking

I have decided that a homemaker is one of two people:

1. Someone who makes a home outta a house or
2. Someone who makes things homemade.

Travis and I are both homemakers.




Travis built this planter box outside our door.
Gorgeous, isn't it? In comparison to dead leaves, old pumpkins (yes, I admit, there were still two old crusty, rotten jack-o-lanterns) and actual garbage next to our door.

And within two days all the seeds that fell from the bird feeder had sprouted in the good clean soil and in the spring we'll plant real flowers and herbs and maybe a tomato plant.
We're making this house a home.



And I made homemade pasta!
It was a first, but after such a success it will not be the last.
I hand rolled the dough, baked the butternut squash that filled it and then served it with homemade sourdough bread, and fresh garden green beans.

Travis made the sauce and it was awesome! It took like 4 hours. He grated up about 10 different veggies and mashed up half a dozen tomatoes and just let them boil for hours until the tastes had all soaked and blended.

It was quite the homemade meal.
We were very proud of its deliciousness.

To Do:

I tell myself "First I will eat,"
Then I say

"Then I will put away all the clean dishes and then wash all the dirty dishes and clean the rest of the kitchen.
Then I will clean the living room. Then the bedroom and then I will vacuum the house."

Oh no, I stop myself.
"I should do the laundry first so I can do everything else while the laundry is going. But then I have to bike to the store to get some cash and change to wash it. and if I'm going to the store then I should figure out what to have for dinner, so I can pick things up if I need to instead of going back."
So I start to clean the kitchen a little so I have some room to look at cookbooks at the kitchen table.
And then I look at cookbooks until I realize that I'm starving and it's past lunch time and I have yet to even do the first thing on my list.
Eat.
And I think, there's no way I'll survive once kids are thrown into the mix.

Because having a house that you want to keep clean sucks sometimes.
But, I mean... usually it's okay.
Usually I even like it.

But not today.
Blegh. Maybe it's the rain that's got me down.

My Weekend

was a very good weekend.
I will tell you all about it.
It began with going to the farmers market on Saturday with Travis and Lauren and a boy named John. There were hardly any veggies, since it's only May. But we did buy two dozen beautiful eggs and some fresh meat. Also radishes, but we ate them all before I could photograph them.
Mmmmmm.
The egg yolks are so ORANGE! They're crazy.
Don't they look pretty? Like they're already painted for Easter, especially the green ones.

Then we went to Travis's parents and picked all the rhubarb out of their garden (Thank you very much!) Then Lauren and Suzie and Emma and I canned some Strawberry Rhubarb Jam.
Delicious!
It was the first time any of us had canned something and we were very successful!

We went to see Babies that evening with Travis's parents and I LOVED it. It was exactly like the preview. Short clips, back and forth between babies.
There was no dialogue and if there were parents talking in the background it was not translated or important.
I don't think Trav's parents liked it very much because there were lots of boobies. The African women never wore tops and we saw all of the women breast-feeding. But it was pretty tasteful, so Travis and I didn't really mind.
On Sunday I used my new jam and new eggs and made Swedish Pancakes. We went through an entire jar of jam the first day.

For church I dressed like a forties reporter... kind of. I wore a white button up shirt and a grey high-waisted pencil skirt and I wore a skinny little tie tucked into my skirt.
I wish I had a picture. I had many compliments, on account of, I looked adorable.
Sunday night we had Cole and Suzie over for hamburgers, using the meat we got at the Farmer's Market. (The cattle was slaughtered just three weeks ago. It was so terribly fresh, and it was free-range and it was local.) And we ate it with homemade spelt-flour buns.
Then the left-over strawberries and rhubarb went into my first ever Lattice-Top pie.
YUM!

What a successful and delicious weekend.
We spent the evening watching Charlie and Lola on Youtube, which is a past time I would highly recommend.


p.s. Listen to Travis talk on the radio here.
He thinks he sounds dumb, but I do not. Lets take a poll. Do you think Travis sounds stupid? Yes or No?

Whole Wheat

I am a lover of cookbooks.
Which is something I didn't know until I got married.
Since then, however, I've realized that I spend several hours every Thursday going through cook books and cooking blogs planning our weekly meals. (Thursday's the day for that)
Yesterday I spent a good three hours looking through the Seed Saver's Exchange online seed catalog.
And calling multiple people to say things like "There are over four thousand tomato varieties! FOUR THOUSAND. Tomatoes for slicing, tomatoes for drying, for canning, for salads, black tomatoes, green tomatoes, striped tomatoes!"
I've also been reading an absurd amount of books about food that aren't cook books.

They're making me feel hungry and a little guilty and also make me want to have a little farm.
I've been eating super well, which is amazing since usually people are like "Becky, I think you have scurvy, do you know what fruit is?" and I say, "I'll be fine, gimme some of that Lemon-aid, it'll cure me."

But all these food books make me want MORE cookbooks.
And one that aren't Cookies. (Which, by the way, is AWESOME.)
Mostly I want a book called Good to the Grain, because I'm trying to cook with whole grains, but just adding whole wheat flour into recipes that call for white flour doesn't work if you don't understand flour as a substance and taste.
So far I've managed to steal three recipes from Good to the Grain without actually buying it.
Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies from Food in Jars
Oatmeal Pancakes from Smitten Kitchen
and Spelt Flour Pie Crust from when I snuck into the bookstore and copied it out of the book without paying for it.

Farmer's Market starts this weekend in Provo and I'm about peeing my pants in anticipation.
Also, I'm almost done with Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, so get ready to hear hyperbole's like "The best book I've ever read."
Which it might be.
And that's saying a LOT.

Hey. Eat some good food today. I doubt you'll regret it.


* * *
p.s. this is a totally unrelated Tipping Bucket Video that Travis stayed up all freaking night making while I slept in my bed alone... *tears*
It must be pretty good then, right? Donate a dollar at Tippingbucket.org
ALSO, that's my voice at the beginning.

Foodie

I loves me some food.
You know this though, right?
In fact, on Sunday Travis and I learned how to make fresh butter, since I got a butter churner for my birthday. We churned some homemade butter and ate it on homemade bread. Yum!

On our trip up to Zion's National Park last weekend our carmates, Travis and I talked about food for about two hours straight.

One of the things that we talked about (besides Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, of course) was the change in the Government's stance on food. If any of you have seen Food Inc. you know that the Government's hand in food isn't to keep us healthy, but to make them money. The FDA and USDA are overrun with Washington's men, when they should probably be overrun with farmers or nutritionists.
The Government used to award those who were willing to go out and farm the land for themselves, but now it's almost impossible to be a farmer without going HUGE into debt, relying almost entirely on the Government, and providing nothing but crappy meat and corn.
Farmers are not farmers anymore, they are factory workers.

We talked a lot about The Little House on the Prairie, mostly because I'm obsessed with Little House on the Prairie. We talked about how the family unit was stronger before fast food because kids and parents spent time together farming, gardening and cooking, and then sitting down together and eating.
So when we transformed into a service based industry from a labor based industry people could get food cheap, quick and independent of their family.
We discussed the fact that since the beginning of humans, we've eaten the same basic things, fruits, veggies, nuts, wheats, rice, meat.
But now, even though people haven't evolved much, our food has. Our body hasn't the faintest idea of what to do with a poptart, or cheetos, but it knows how to handle an apple.
We also discussed how people think they can eat whatever they want and then take vitamins. Taking a vitamin C pill is not the same as eating an orange. Come on, guys.

Here's a little thought I recently had, though:
Most people know very little about Mormons, but what they generally DO know has to do with what we call "The Word of Wisdom." The Word of Wisdom is a list of things we do or don't eat or drink. We don't drink alcohol, or coffee. We don't smoke or chew tobacco.
We believe these instructions were given by God via the Prophet Jospeh Smith. People tend to quote the last part which says that if we obey these commandments we'll have health in our navel, marrow in our bones, run and not be weary, walk and not faint.
I want to quote the first part, where God says " Behold, verily, thus saith the Lord unto you: In consequence of evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days, I have warned you, and forewarn you, by giving unto you this word of wisdom by revelation—"

What's that? The reason that God has to tell us what's good to eat is because of conspiring men? Because some future day (now, perhaps?) people will decide what we should and shouldn't eat for us, and someday people will distort food until it is unhealthy to eat, and they will try to ensnare us by making food addictive and easy and fast until the day that it could destroy the family, our bodies, the Government and the entire US food system.
Am I getting carried away?
Maybe a little.
Maybe food isn't the reason that there are so many things wrong with the world or America.

But maybe it has something to do with it.
And as someone who loves food, I say, lets make food good again: Make dinner for your family. Use good ingredients. Plant a garden. (Click on this!)
And get ready, because soon the Farmer's Market will be here. Yay!

A few short letters

Dear Shots and Malaria and Typhoid Pills,

Thank you for costing well over 400 freaking dollars.

Becky and Travis

Dear Sienna,

Thank you for teaching me how to make bread rise. The bread I baked (successfully) rose up double its size before I punched it down little. When I baked it in its pan it rose up like three inches over the top. It is golden and beautiful and delicious.

Love Becky

Dear Provo,

Somewhere out there someone should hire me. You should pay me lots of money and not make me work through June. I'll be in Africa.

Mrs. Pitcher (more professional, you know)

Dear Visiting Teachees,

Sorry I haven't been by to see you yet this month. I promise I'm coming.

Also, I'm planning a girls night for us since I got Bright Star via Netflix, and Travis doesn't want to watch it. Plus its PG, I know you ladies like that.

Sister Pitcher

Dear Avatar,

I saw that you're out on DVD now. I will not buy you. Avatar the last airbender is much better, and totally unrelated to you.

Becky

Dear neighbors,

Sorry I've been listening to that Pop mix Suzette made me so loudly. I know there's a lot of Beyonce and a heavy beat to most of them. I hope it doesn't upset you, I just want to pump it since school's out.

Becky (and yeah, "pump it" is the correct term)

Dear blog readers,

I keep promising you pictures and you're just gonna have to trust they're coming soon. Or don't trust that, that might be safer.

Heart Breaker (Becky)

What? your heart isn't broken at the idea of no pictures from me??

I bake bread with flour

In a half hour I will go and take (and hopefully pass) my last final of the semester.

And in one year I will go and take my very last final EVER.
Good news, I passed Geology.
I think its due in part to that fact that I finally learned the class name: Geology, not Geography.
Easily confused for each other. I can't be blamed for constantly mistaking my class' name.

Now here's some bad news, we have to get shots for Africa, including the Yellow Fever shot, which costs 87 dollars EACH!
Travis and I have to pay to go in and stick needles full of illness into our arms.
Blah blah blah, I can hear you now, saying things like "You should be grateful you can get immunizations."
To that I say, "I have a great phobia of shots and needles and have been seriously considering not going to Africa because I don't want to get shots."
However, I have maned up and decided I will get the shots and it will be worth it, but for goodness sake, why must I give them a third of my pay check for one measly immunization!
Blegh. Back to good news, shall we?
It is absurdly beautiful outside here in Provo. I have a brown neck and arms and legs and I LOVE it. The brownness of my body comes about like this:
Every day of the last week I've said, "I think I will go outside and and read on this blanket in our yard. " After ten minutes of squinting at the VERY bright white paper that books are printed on, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
Half an hour later I wake up because the ants crawling on my legs are tickling like crazy.
I get up, shake out my blanket, tell the ants to please keep their distance, lie down on my back and fall asleep.
I wake up in a half hour to the ants again and then go inside. Then maybe to the park on my bike.
More good news? Okay.
Travis is so Fix-y. He fixed my bike and put a basket on it and fixed his bike and oiled it up and then he hammered things and worked on things and built some things. I love it.
Although he is an awesome man I am having a hard time fulfilling my stereotypical woman duties. You know, the ones I LOVE to fulfil because it's a little like playing house and also because I happen to like most of the things women do, like cook and sew and play with babies.
Anyway, what I'm referring to is my bread making skills.
I have none.
I have tried and failed three different times this week (as well as multiple times in the past) to make bread rise.
I even shout at it inspirationally. "Rise I tell you! RISE!"
But it ignored me and stayed flat.
I tried to bake some of this flat bread and that was a horrible experience, because it came out smelling SO good and tasting very disgusting.
I asked four different women and also a boy to teach me to make bread and they all said "Well, do you have a wheat grinder?"
WHAT? No, Utahans, you amazing Utahans. I bake bread with flour.
Not with whole wheat that I've ground myself.
I cannot believe it. It makes me feel highly amazed.

Luckily for me my breaxpert (bread-expert, a word I just invented) friend Sienna is going to have me over tomorrow afternoon to learn bread making in her new and pretty kitchen.
This is something I have time for BECAUSE I am going now to take my last final.

(Wish me luck!)

Cinnamon

I was recently surprised to learn that I don't like cinnamon.
I don't think I've ever liked it, really.

But I always thought I liked cinnamon, and I think it's because cinnamon and sugar go together like bacon and eggs, or peanut butter and jelly.
I figured that something so delicious as sugar could not have a bad counterpart.

And cinnamon is only really used in desserts, and I love desserts.
I'm never really in the mood for cinnamon rolls,
I like rice with soy sauce more than rice with sugar, cinnamon and milk (a favorite among most of my friends)
I've never been a huge fan of cinnamon raisin bread but always assumed it was the raisins,
and apple pie has never been my favorite type of pie, but how could it be with peach pie and angel pie existing?
I prefer Froot-Loops over Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
but I just never put two and to together.

It never ever occurred to me that I don't like cinnamon. Never ever.
Until a few months ago when someone asked me if I wanted something cinnamony (I don't even remember what now...) and Travis replied for me, "Becky doesn't like cinnamon."
"What?!" I exclaimed, "I love cinnamon, I'm just not in the mood."
Travis raised his eyebrows and said, "You don't like cinnamon. You're never in the mood. I've known this for months."

Then it hit me. My mind was reeling. It was beyond my control. (I can think of no more cliche's to add here.)

I don't like cinnamon.
He was right.

I practiced saying it, "I don't like cinnamon. I don't like cinnamon. I DON'T LIKE CINNAMON!"

I feel free! Free as a bird! I don't have to pretend I like cinnamon or constantly refuse cinnamon rolls saying, "I"m not really in the mood, I only like them warm."
Because that's a lie, and when I tell that lie people usually heat cinnamon rolls up for me and I'm forced to nibble on that crusty, nasty cinnamony grossness until I convince someone else to eat it.

Is this blowing your mind? It is blowing mine!
I don't like cinnamon.

and somehow I went my whole life without knowing it.

Week in Pictures: Blackberry Tarts and Free Audiobooks on iTunes!

I swore off writing, but I just can't help myself. There are literally 200 free audio books on iTunesU. All the classics and so many of my favorites! My sister in-law turned me on to them and now I'm filling up my hard drive with them.

Food Revolution

Have you all heard about Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution?
If not, go watch the trailer asap before you continue wasting your life.

First of all.
I love Jamie Oliver.
What a Brit!
What a Chef!

What a British Chef!

He's had many TV shows over the years, but they were all about cooking, gardening, British school lunches, etc. He did a doc a few years ago about the British School Systems lunches and completely changed the laws of England concerning what they're allowed to serve at school,
How awesome is he?

If I've already sold you, or if you already loved Jamie, or if that trailer made you burst into spontaneous tears or vomiting then GOOD NEWS
You can watch his tv show on hulu.
Every new episode will be posted as it comes out.
Go watch the premier asap and quit wasting your life!

Springtime Cookies

Mmmm. I have had many many cookies today.
If I cared about the size of my belly then I would be foolish to eat so many cookies.
But if I care about my happiness then I am wise to eat so many cookies.
How wise!
They were so festively colored that I took their pictures.


I wanted a picture of me enjoying this delicious treat, and yet no matter how I try I looked disgusted by them.
I assure you, this colorful treat was not disgusting.


The bowls kind of made me think of that scene in Hook...

A note to those as stupid as me:

(not that I believe you ARE as stupid as me, of course)

Do not leave uncooked gnocci on the counter overnight. Aka, do not leave mashed potatoes mixed with uncooked egg on your counter overnight. It will turn a strange greenish-gray and make you feel sick to look at.

On a second, remarkably similar note: Do not leave the homemade Pesto that you made to go with said gnocci out overnight either.
Being lazy makes your kitchen super gross.

A note to my husband: I am sorry. I will clean up soon.

(Yes, that's right, I did not clean it up yet and I am not cleaning up immediately. We really are just about to leave. I promise, usually I'm a freaking awesome little wife. Need I mention the banana french toast sandwichs? Becky invented. America approved.)

(No, America has not officially as a government approved my banana french toast sandwichs, but I think they're doing more important things.)