Kitchen Sink Granola Bars

The days are dwindling until I leave Clear Spring Creamery and begin my next big adventure... graduate school. But in the meantime, I still have a fridge and pantry filled with food that needs to be eaten. As a result, I have been doing my best to utilize everything I have, getting creative when necessary.

You can see some of the fruits of my labors above - homemade granola bars, which by definition are a bunch of random ingredients glued together with sticky substances like honey and peanut butter, cut into little squares, and then enjoyed for breakfast. Or dessert. Or afternoon tea.

Thus, they are the perfect recipe for getting rid of unwanted food items.

In my case, I used a recipe I scrounged from Food52 for inspiration. I had almost none of the ingredients in the actual recipe, so a fair amount of improvisation was necessary.

In the end, though, I was rid of my caches of pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, shaved coconut, and put some serious dents in my remaining peanut butter, honey, rolled oats and baking chocolate.

End result?

They made me happy. And gave me one or three fewer pounds of stuff to take to Pittsburgh.

Butter Is Better

I am happy to report my first (successful) attempt at making a dairy product in my tiny own kitchen!

Blog, allow me to introduce you to Butter.

If you're anything like me at all, butter is absolutely indispensable. I saute asparagus, I bake cakes, I create tart crust, I smear pieces of baguette.

And, fabulously, butter has to be one of the easiest things to make ever. Observe:

Take one cup of cream and let it sit out until it reaches 50 degrees F. At the same time, put a clean quart jar in the fridge.

Once the cream has reached the desired temperature, pour it into the quart jar and screw on the lid tightly. Then start shaking the dickens out of it.

The cream will start out like cream, then frothy. After a few minutes, without any warning, it will have a whipped consistency. Do not be alarmed. And do not stop shaking.

After another few minutes, again with no warning whatsoever, the contents of the jar will turn from whipped cream into a large yellow lump and some milky liquid. Ta-da! You have made butter. This entire process should take somewhere between 5 and 20 minutes.

Pour off the buttermilk and store in the fridge for a refreshing pre-bedtime drink. 

Pour cold water over the butter and shake to rinse, then pour off. Do this three or four times, until the water runs clear.

Knead the butter with your hands (or with a pair of spoons, if you're fastidious) to remove any remaining liquid. This is important, since leaving the extra liquid can make your butter spoil. Stir in 1/4 tsp. of kosher salt, if so desired.

Spread on a piece of bread and enjoy.

 

Note: Do not be alarmed by the taxi cab shade of yellow that is my butter. It is representative of butterfat from grass-fed cows, and is caused by high levels of Vitamin A and beta-carotene - the same reasons that eggs from free-range chickens have similarly, shockingly colored yolks.

The Magical Mushroom Tour

How many of you have ever thought about where those attractive shiitake mushrooms in the grocery store come from? Yeah... me either. I knew mushrooms grew in forests, of course, and in Indiana there are dozens of little Mushroom Festivals that dot the rural countryside during the appropriate seasons, often in quaint little towns that also house adorable Covered Bridge Festivals and Fourth of July Festivals with people dressed in pioneer clothing and a real blacksmith and a guy dressed as Abe Lincoln.

The term "mushroom farm", however, was alien to me. Yet logically, there has to be a way to farm mushrooms, because there is just no way that mushroom hunters could find enough wild shiitakes to populate every grocery store in the lower forty-eight.

On Tuesday, I visited Sharondale Farm, a mushroom growing operation, in Keswick, VA - about an hour south of Brightwood. It was part of the CRAFT program, or "Collaborative Regional Alliance for Farmer Training". Basically, a bunch of farms in the region get all their interns/apprentices together and visit one another in order to better educate said interns. There were maybe 15 of us there to learn about the joys of mushroom farming, including myself, Susan, Caitlin, and Robin.*

When we walked into the "Mushroom Forest," it took me a few minutes to realize I was even looking at the mushroom farm part of the business. The paths were lined with logs that were propped up in an A-frame sort of construction. In some areas, groups of logs were lying on the ground in a row. After wandering around somewhat stupidly for a moment, I took a closer look at some large growths coming out of the logs.

Well, what do you know. Mushrooms.

Mark Jones, the guy who runs Sharondale Farm, gave us a bit of a guided tour and explained the process of cultivating mushrooms. He starts by capturing wild mushroom strains that he finds in forests, and grows them in his house in petri dishes, which he uses to inoculate sawdust with the mushroom spawn. He then takes logs - white oak for shiitake - and drills holes in the wood in a diamond pattern. He packs the holes with the shroomy sawdust, seals it shut, and waits for the log to begin fruiting. (You can see the drill holes in the picture above.)

Mark seems like a pretty cool dude. He has a full beard and wore a ratty LSU sweatshirt, left over from his grad school days, as he showed us around his property. He designed his gardens using permaculture, an approach that tries to mimic natural patterns and relationships, and as with many small farms, nothing goes to waste.

What comes to mind specifically are his mushroom spawn inoculated sawdust blocks. After Mark is done with them, he uses the blocks to line his garden beds. As a result, feral mushrooms spring up from the blocks that weren't quite finished fruiting, giving the entire garden a rather surreal, Alice-In-Wonderland type of feel. When the logs start declining, he pulls them and uses them to line the trails in the so-called "Magical Forest"** beyond his gardens, where feral mushrooms also are known to spring up from logs with a little more oomph left in them.

Interesting sign in the greenhouse

To put a finishing touch on the visit, Mark gave us paper bags and let us pick as many feral mushrooms as we wanted. Susan got quite a harvest for the house, and that very evening I used them to make a lovely Wild Mushroom Soup. Alas - I forgot to take a picture of it. We still have enough for another batch, however, and Susan and Dean have requested another concoction. Hopefully my wits won't leave me next time. In any case, the recipe is below, adapted from the Simply-In-Season cookbook. And while I did not have any psychedelic experiences after eating them, I will end with the caveat to be careful what mushrooms you pick, in case you do.


*Robin is another part-time worker at the farm. She and her fiance are starting their own mushroom farm this year. I had no idea mushroom farming was so popular.
**One area we didn't get to visit was Mark's indoor operation, where he grows the mushroom spawn and inoculates the sawdust. While there might be a legitimate reason for not going in there, like contamination, I lean towards the explanation that he's growing other "special" harvests. The "Magical Forest" might not be the only "magical" thing around Sharondale...


Read on for the Wild Mushroom Soup recipe.

Mango Chutney Madness

Due to an abundance of mangos in last week's Green BEAN box, I decided to ignore the obvious impossibility of mangos in Indiana in March (or EVER), and go balls out by making an exotic mango chutney.*

I looked at a few different recipes online before making my decision. Most of the recipes had what seemed to me to be an appalling amount of sugar - up to 2 cups, in one case. The original recipe I used called for half a cup of brown sugar, which I further reduced to a third of a cup. Mangos and raisins are sweet naturally, and along with the apple juice I figured the chutney would be cloyingly saccharine enough to suit even my sweet tooth.** I was also lacking a few ingredients (e.g. fresh ginger), but I made do with what I had available in the pantry.

 Courageous Mango Chutney

Ingredients

3 fresh mangos, ripe but not too soft

3 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp red pepper flakes

1 medium red onion, diced

1 cup apple juice

1/2 cup cider vinegar

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 1/2 tbsp yellow curry powder

1 1/2 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp ground cinnamon

Salt and pepper

1/2 cup raisins

Cut the mangos into medium to large chunks.

In a 12-inch skillet, heat the oil until shimmering. Add red pepper and stir until fragrant. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft. Add mango and let cook for one minute.

Seperately, mix the apple juice, cider vinegar, brown sugar, curry powder, ginger and cinnamon. Add to skillet and bring to a slow simmer. Let simmer for about 30 minutes, until juice mixture has reduced to a sauce. Stir frequently.

When chutney has reached the desired consistency, add salt and pepper to taste. Stir in raisins and serve. 

This recipe would be really good on pork chops, roast or pan-fried chicken, and some types of fish. I paired it with baked tilapia - my parents really liked it, but I thought the tilapia was a tad bland. Maybe grilled or pan-fried. At any rate, the chutney itself was very good, and just sweet enough. In the future, I'll make extra and jar it for future use, or to use as gifts.

Additionally, next time I will not serve mango chutney on yellow plates. My food presentation skills leave a lot to be desired.

*Once again, fail to Green BEAN Delivery for sending us food that is neither seasonal nor local. These were from Peru, for crying out loud. However, since I love mango chutney, I choose to magnanimously forgive them.

**As a child, I was caught in the bathroom, eating sugar by the spoonful. Multiple times.

The Butcher, The Baker, The Boeuf Bourguignon Maker

For a while now, I have had a hang-up about boeuf bourguignon. Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon, to be precise. I somehow came to view mastering this recipe as a vital step in the career trajectory of any serious foodie. I'm not quite sure how this happened, but it was probably somewhere between reading Julie and Julia and My Life in France.

I - and many others, I believe - have come to view Mastering the Art of French Cooking as the First Edition Foodie Bible, the embodiment of the original Good Food movement. Maybe MtAoFC was considered an entrance into the world of home cookery for housewives in the 1960's, but like a snowball rolling down a hill, it has gathered force and mass as it raced through the next fifty years. This book has weathered TV shows, newscasts, best-selling memoirs, The Julie-Julia Project, and a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep, for crying out loud. A humble little cookbook it certainly is not... not anymore, anyway.

Bouef bourguignon is well known as traditional French fare, and is now even considered haute cuisine.* As such, it does not come without baggage, historically and culturally speaking. When the manuscript for MtAoFC first came across editor Judith Jones' desk, she settled on boeuf bourguignon as her test recipe. In the introduction to my own 40th anniversary edition of the cookbook, she explained with no small amount of gusto:

I ran home to make the recipe - and my first bite told me that I had finally produced an authentic French boef bourguignon - as good as one I could get in Paris. This, I was convinced, was a revolutionary cookbook...

And this from a lady who had lived in Paris for over three years.

Reading Julia Child's little love note before the recipe didn't really help settle my nerves, either:

As is the case with most famous dishes, there are more ways than one to arrive at a good boef bourguignon. Carefully done, and perfectly flavored, it is certainly one of the most delicious beef dishes concocted by man...

Perfectly flavored, eh? One of the most delicious concocted by man? No pressure.

I started at the butcher shop. Doesn't that sound quaint? There are a lot of reasons to frequent a butcher, which I won't go into right now, but the primary one is that it gives you the most control over selecting your meat, short of raising and slaughtering the animal yourself. I, of course, have additional ethical concerns, and I chose accordingly.

I decided to go with The Goose, an Indianapolis-based shop that specializes in local, naturally raised meat. They also have a coffee shop and sell delicious sandwiches, as well as artisinal cheeses, fresh seasonal produce, and dairy products from a local creamery. I got six ounces of bacon and three pounds of chuck roast, courtesy of Fischer Farms in Jasper, Indiana. Their cattle is grass-fed with a grain-finish, as the nice man who wrapped up my juicy-looking hunk of meat explained to me.

Back at the ranch - I hauled out the cookbook and re-read the recipe to make sure I had everything. Then I prepared all my ingredients in advance - cut my bacon into lardon and my three pounds of beef into two inch chunks, and sliced up all the vegetables I would be needing.

Of course, I had an audience.

Then it was a matter of blanching the bacon (that sounds like it should be a euphamism for something), browning the beef (ditto), sautéing the veggies, and dumping everything into a pot with a bottle of red wine, some beef stock, garlic, tomato paste, and a bouquet garni, which was provided free of charge by my friendly neighborhood butcher man. Wasn't he something?

Ultimately, I don't know why I was so nervous. It's time intensive, to be sure, but most of the time is spent just letting the whole pot simmer in the oven for a few hours. You can even make boeuf bourguignon in advance... Julia's recipe actually recommends it as a way to let the flavors mingle.

You might even have time to bake a little dessert. Lemon-lavender pound cake, if you're me.

In the end, it turned out perfectly. The sauce was just thick enough. The beef was tender to the point of perfection, falling apart on our forks and melting on our tongues. My parents, my brother, and my friend Abbie (who I invited along) all made many yummy noises. It might have been the wine speaking, but I'll pretend otherwise for now.


*This may or may not be according to Wikipedia.

Microwaved Oatmeal: Study reveals it can still be tasty

When I came home last night, I was greeted with the glorious news that we were without heat, hot water, or most of our electrical appliances. Which meant no stove. Alas.

However, my dad ran in an extension cord so we could use the microwave this morning. And contrary to what you may think, you don't actually need to cook oatmeal on the stove for that thick, steaming bowl of breakfasty delight. 

I love oatmeal. It's my favorite breakfast for a cold winter morning... and since it was 50 degrees inside, it was more or less perfect. The steam issuing into the frigid air was quite picturesque. Silver lining and all that.

Microwaves definitely get a bad rap among foodies and traditionalists. I'm not in a position to say how much or little the microwave has contributed to the decline of home cooking or the family meal, but I can say that the microwave is a tool, and like any tool, it can be used for good or evil.

I will confess that I've used microwaves to cook. And I'm not alone - Harold McGee, a regular writer for the New York Times and author of best-selling books On Food and Cooking and Keys to Good Cooking, talked about using microwaves in a Fresh Air interview last year. According to McGee:

It turns out when studies have been done on retaining vitamins in vegetables, for example, microwave ovens do a much better job than boiling or even steaming. It's a very good, very quick way to heat food, and I do cook vegetables in the microwave. I cook thin fish fillets in the microwave in just a matter of a minute or so.

So since we've established that microwaving food isn't a morally reprehensible offence, let's talk about oatmeal.

Stove-less Stovetop Oatmeal

Ingredients

1/2 cup rolled oats

1 cup milk

Toppings - I'm partial to honey, raisins and flax seeds

Pour oatmeal and milk into microwave-safe bowl and stir. Let sit for 10 minutes.

Microwave oatmeal in one minute increments, stirring occasionally. Keep an eye on it in case it starts to boil over.

Continue to alternate between microwaving and stirring until oatmeal is the consistency you want. Add toppings and enjoy.

My opinion: You definitely can't tell the difference between stove-top and microwaved oatmeal. However, it's slightly more time-intensive to cook in the microwave, since you have to stop every 30 to 60 seconds in order to prevent boiling over. But then, you also don't have to clean a saucepan. Decisions, decisions.

My 2011 Goals and Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

As you may or may not remember, I've been hired by an organic farm for the 2011 growing season. First, I must get celebratory impulses out of my system, not unlike Colin Firth the other night.... so, YAY!
 

Or maybe I'll just celebrate with some PIE.

Now that I have that out of my system, I find myself wondering what role this blog is going to play in the upcoming year. I originally created it to chronicle my WWOOF-ing adventures, which have somehow morphed into accepting an internship on a family farm. My reasons for having this blog haven't changed much, though. And since I'm starting so soon - March 21st, to be precise - I want to take some time now and reflect on my goals.

Document my adventures, thoughts, experiences, etc. Just like a real diary... only a lot less private. I'll keep my own separate journal for my less public musings. Here, not only do I want to keep track of what I'm doing and learning every day, but I want to write about issues facing small family farms, organic and sustainable agriculture, food culture, and so on. All heavily seasoned with my own personal commentary, of course.

Hone my writing skills. While I love to write and think I'm pretty good at it, I know I have a lot to learn. A blog is as good a platform as any to practice writing regularly. Which brings me to...

Write regularly. When I keep a journal, I'm very good about writing regularly, but something - an inherent need for sleep, perhaps - often causes me to give up on keeping up to date when I get busy. And I'm sure this year is going to be nothing if not busy. So I'm setting a goal for myself to update this blog at least once a week. I'll revisit this after I start work, but I think this is a doable amount, leaving me plenty of wiggle room.

Run out of space on Picasa. What I mean by this hyperbolizing is, I want and need to do a great job of visually documenting this year, despite having a lardball of a digital camera to lug around. Besides, blog entries are so much more interesting when they have pictures accompanying them.... as anyone who compares my last few entries to a month or two ago can attest.



Now that all that seriousness is finished, let's talk about pie.

My grandad is visiting us right now and will be leaving soon, so I decided to make a gigantic dinner tonight, which was received with great acclaim. It consisted of pasta puttanesco and a spinach and fennel salad with strawberries and shitake mushrooms, topped with goat cheese and a floridly-colored homemade dressing that involved pureed strawberries.* And, to wrap up, a Sweet Potato Pecan Pie. Capitalized.


Nothing says "I love you, Grandpa!" like anchovies, garlic and salmon-colored salad dressing.

Here's the back story: last year, I had a Julia Child page-a-day calendar. Since I was living off the AmeriCorps $4.50 per day food budget, I couldn't try very many recipes, so I ended up saving them all. This weekend, I spent many an hour organizing the recipes, gluing them individually onto sheets of paper, cross-referencing them and putting them in a binder. I know it seems strange, but one thing you must understand about me is that I get weirdly excited about organizing things...especially if it involves color coding.
  
As I was putting the recipes in their nice, safe little page protectors, I happened to stumble upon one for Sweet Potato Pecan Pie. I like sweet potatoes, I thought. And I like pecans. And I LOVE pie. And wonder of wonders, I had all the ingredients, including sweet potatoes from the Indy Winter Farmer's Market. Unfortunately, I did have to resort to a frozen pie crust, for time was simply too short. But otherwise, the pie was a resounding success, and was absolutely perfect as a mid-winter dessert. Safe to say, the pie will be reappearing for Thanksgiving 2011.

Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

Ingredients

1 9-inch frozen deep-dish pie crust, thawed and pierced all over with fork

(Again, you can make your own crust. I definitely will next time. But this way is certainly time-saving.)

1 1-lb sweet potato, pierced with fork

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

2 tablespoons melted butter

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. allspice

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 cup light corn syrup

(Yes, I know it's the devil - you can substitute honey or sorgham or whatever you want. You can also boil water and sugar and make simple syrup.)

 2 large eggs

1 cup pecan halves

Preheat oven to 400 F and bake crust until pale golden, about 8 minutes. Set aside and reduce oven temp. to 350 F.

Cook potato in microwave on high until tender, about 6 minutes per side. Cut in half and scoop flesh into medium bowl and mash - measure out 1 cup and set rest aside. Whisk brown sugar and next 5 ingredients into mashed potato; spread mixture over pie crust.

Whisk syrup and eggs in bowl to blend, and stir in pecans. Pour over potato mixture.

Bake pie until filling is set, puffed, and brown - about 45 minutes. Let cool before serving.

*No, we did not go out and buy strawberries in February. What a notion. My parents get a co-op sort of deal through Green Bean Delivery, through which they get a box every week full of local, organic produce. At least, it's supposed to be local... they seem to have some difficulties in winter, and I've noticed a lot of items coming from Florida... kiwis, lemons, oranges, and the like. At least it's organic, although it raises questions. Check out the FRESH: The Movie blog for a discussion about what goes into a food mile, Part 1 and Part 2.

Recipe: Academy Award-winning Hummus

Om nom nom.

A few days ago, I was flipping through one of those nice glossy magazines my mom buys with giant pictures of food that always look superb and far more presentable than anything I ever make. I came across a recipe that said, simply, "Hummus". And it looked delicious. And not too hard, either. So I decided to make some for tonight, when I join my friends to watch the Oscars.

Well, actually what happened is that when I ransacked Trader Joe's yesterday in search of ingredients for white chili, I managed in a fit of incredible ineptitude to grab Garbanzo beans instead of Great Northern. It even says GARBANZO! in really big letters on the can. So I decided to make lemonade out of lemons.... or, in this case, hummus out of garbanzo beans.*

It wasn't hard. It took me longer than it probably should have, since I had trouble with the blender and I insisted on squeezing actual lemons instead of just using lemon juice, because I have issues like that. But it tastes good. Too bad mine doesn't really look anything like the picture... isn't there somewhere I could take a class on making my food look like it does in the glossy magazine pictures?**


I bet my hummus will look exactly like this.

So here's the recipe. I made a couple changes, mostly due to my lack of sambal oelek, a bright red chili sauce that the magazine rather unappetizingly descripes as a "chunky condement". Maybe I don't want it in my hummus after all.

The original recipe can be found in Mother's Best Comfort Food: Wholesome dishes that take you back home. (And don't tell my mom, but I spilled tea all over its glossy innards while writing this. Whoops.)

Hummus

Ingredients

2 15 oz. cans garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained

1 cup plus 1 tablespoon cold water

5 large garlic cloves, finely chopped

2/3 cup lemon juice (about 3-4 medium lemons)

2 1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1 1/3 cups tahini (sesame paste - check the international aisle of your store)

2 tsp. ground cumin

1 cup chopped sundried tomatoes

Half an hour before making the hummus, set the sundried tomatoes to soak in the cold water for at least 30 minutes. 

Note: I added some extra water that I froze for later- soaking the tomatoes makes the water all nice and flavorful, which is good for making soups down the road.

Drain sundried tomatoes and set aside, reserving water. Place the garbanzo beans, water, garlic, lemon juice, salt, tahini and cumin in a food processor or blender. Process until smooth, at least 3 minutes. (Or, if you're me..... maybe 20 minutes, because you fail at using blenders.) You may have to stop to scrape down the sides and stir the mixture. Taste and add more salt or lemon juice if desired.

To serve, spoon hummus into bowl or platter. Sprinkle the sundried tomatoes in the middle of the hummus. Let it come to room temperature, and eat with warm pita bread or raw vegetables.



What do you mean, it doesn't look like the magazine picture?

As I mentioned, the original recipe calls for sambal oelek and chopped olives for garnish, but hummus is one of those recipes that is perfect for creating endless variations. Hence, the sundried tomatoes, which I love to snack on and therefore have hanging around in droves. For future recipes, I'm going to look up some versions that don't require as much tahini, since that stuff is pricey.

I think it turned out well, but I will have to see what the judges think.

*I sent my brother to the store to get the appropriate white beans, and the day (and my chili) was saved. I know how worried you were about that.
**It's called culinary school.

Like a Rolling Stone...



Not even snowstorms in Ohio can dampen my delight in road trips.


I love road trips.* I love them for a lot of reasons. The sense of independence I have, for example, as I barrel down the the open road. The thrill of travel and new experiences. The hours of reflection. The ability to catch up on my poor neglected, backlogged podcasts. And let's not forget the food.

Something I've recognized recently is that I have long associated road trips with food. Specifically, Cracker Barrel (still a guilty pleasure, I'll admit) and gas station pickings. This is largely due to the road trips of my childhood, during which I would purchase Mountain Dews and Snickers Bars by the fistful during daylight hours and gorge myself on the Country Ham Dinner Plate with Fried Okra and Country Corn every evening.

Now in my mid-20's and in charge of my own culinary destiny, I still recognize in myself a desire that manages to surface, no matter how deeply buried, to feast on the gleanings of truck stop and rest area fare.

One way I am extracting myself from this pastime is to fully stock my car with an assortment of goodies. Apples, pears, tangerines, cheese, crackers, smoked oysters... my parents' pantry was ransacked and pillaged, and I have been enjoying the spoils for the past six days.

But the crown jewel in my collection of healthy road trip snacks is my homemade granola. Crunchy, studded with juicy raisins, salty and sweet in equal measures, bursting with spices and flavor, this is easily the best granola recipe I have ever tried.




I didn't follow the recipe exactly, due to the bareness of my pantry in a few key areas - *cough* coriander. Regardless, I was very pleased with how it turned out. The original recipe (scroll down to "Indulgent Granola") also makes about 10 cups, so I halved it.

Indulgent Granola, Road Trip Style

Ingredients

4 cups oats, rolled (not quick or instant)

1 cup raw nuts, coarsely chopped (I used almonds)

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp ginger

pinch of nutmeg

1 tablespoon white sugar

1/4 cup honey

1/3 cup butter

Dried Fruit (I used raisins, but feel free to be creative) 

Preheat oven to 300 degrees and move the oven rack to the middle. Prepare a large baking sheet by lightly spraying with cooking spray or lining with parchment paper. 

Mix the first seven ingredients in a large bowl.

In a small saucepan, mix the sugar, honey and butter and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Pour the liquid over the oats mixture and toss until thoroughly coated.

Spread the granola evenly on the baking sheet. Bake until golden brown and fragrant, about 30 minutes. Rotate halfway through.

Remove from the oven and cool completely. Add dried fruit after it has cooled and store in an airtight container.

Note: I like to use the cardboad container that the oats came in to keep my granola. It's handy, and you get points for recycling.

Road trip update: I am currently in Pittsburgh, enjoying tea at a very cute cafe and preparing questions for my visit to Chatham University tomorrow. So far, I would label this road trip quite a success! I'll update more fully later.

Lastly - in the spirit of road trippin', check out one of my favorite road trip songs of all time... albeit one of the stranger music videos.

*Interestingly enough, while flipping through a copy of Whiter Shades of Pale: The Stuff White People Like, Coast to Coast at a bookstore the other day, the first thing I opened it to was "Road Trips". It's like they know me.