Easter from the Vatican

...well, sort of.

No, I'm not actually in the Vatican City (I am on my gross couch in Lincoln, Nebraska, actually), but since it's Easter I thought I'd share some memories of going there several years ago.

Although it's been eight years (yikes, already?!) since I went to the Vatican, I still remember how awestruck I felt by the entire experience. I remember the giant throngs of people speaking every language shuffling about, the nuns and priests chatting animatedly in Italian, and the overwhelming opulence of the Vatican itself. I wasn't Catholic then (in fact, I just became one yesterday!), but it doesn't take a Catholic to appreciate the wonder of the Vatican City.

It was especially moving because Pope John Paul II had died just a few months earlier, and the grief was still thick in the Vatican City. We visited his tomb, and although at the time I wasn't able to call him my pope, I was still very aware--based on the grief of those around me--that the world had lost a very important, special man.

St. Peter's Square

One of the most special things I remember from my visit to the Vatican was the Sistine Chapel. You're not allowed to take photos inside the chapel (sorry!), but I always like to tell the story from my visit there:

Two Italian guards were stationed at the front of the chapel, right in front of the Last Judgment. They were talking with each other, seeming relatively unconcerned about monitoring the visitors coming in. There were signs everywhere and in every language warning people not to take photos due to the very delicate nature of the chapel's Renaissance art ("The Creation of Adam," anyone?), but two tourists snapped a few photos, flash and everything. My gut cringed. I turned, expecting to see the Italian guards launching themselves at the guests and snatching up their cameras. Instead, the two guards simply turned to the tourists and very softly said, "No, no," shaking their hands. It did the trick, but I was floored. The only place I'd really ever gone prior to my trip to Italy was Washington, D.C., and if someone had snapped a flash photo of the Bill of Rights or the Constitution, guards would have those people booted on the spot! It makes me smile to think that, even around the precious art of the Sistine Chapel, the Italians are so easygoing.

My favorite thing from St. Peter's: the Pieta. Absolutely beautiful.

I didn't take many photos from inside St. Peter's, mostly because I was very conscious of it being a holy place. Again, not being a Catholic at the time, I didn't know exactly how to behave in a basilica, but I tried my best to be very respectful and quiet, and not be an obnoxious tourist snapping photos every two seconds. Instead, I walked around slowly, taking in every detail of the space and grasping the feeling that there was something uniquely different about this place. I'll never forget that feeling.

Inside the Vatican.

I hope that you'll all be able to visit the Vatican one day. You don't have to be Catholic to appreciate it all; just go in with a kind curiosity, an open and humble mind, and a good camera. :)

This week, we're going to GERMANY AND THE CZECH REPUBLIC! We're going to be making Runzas (you Nebraskans truly appreciate this!) and kolaches, a very special family favorite.

From our home to yours, we wish you all a very Happy Easter!
 

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Amore Mio...it's Bacon!

In a complete break from the norm, I prepared a dish with bacon. Yes, bacon. Deal with it; you can always go to the health and fitness Pinterest board later. But for now, bow down to the bacon.

I used to be one of those people who absolutely abhorred anything with fat. Sugar-free? Diet? Light? Yes, yes, and yes! But now, I'm the complete opposite. I go for what gives me the best taste and most enjoyment. After all, if there's one thing our diet-crazed country should take from the Italians is that food (in proper portions!) is meant to make us happy. It's meant to be enjoyed together, at the table, with family and friends and memories and inappropriate jokes.

So that's exactly what we do at the Heidrick house. By the way, words cannot express the joy on Matt's face as he saw (but first smelled) the bacon crackling in the pan.

I hope you enjoy this recipe!


Linguini with Parmigiano, Bacon, and Asparagus
Prep time: 10 min.
Cook time: 20 min.

Ingredients:

• 1 package linguini (I used regular linguini, but I actually think I'd prefer whole wheat, so give it a try and let me know what you think)
• As many slices of bacon as you feel comfortable eating in one seating, diced
• Asparagus spears, sliced into three-inch pieces
• 1/2 Tablespoon pepper flakes
• 1/3 cup parmigiano reggiano
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 shallot, minced
• 2 eggs, beaten (I know it sounds weird. Just do it, okay?)

Steps:

1. Boil the linguini until it is al dente (boiled but not mushy). In the last 2 minutes of cooking, throw in the asparagus. Don't throw it in too early or you'll end up with mushy asparagus and green pasta. Not pretty stuff. You want it to be in just long enough to get nice and bright green, but no longer or it'll turn a dull green color. Sad.
2. Drain the pasta and asparagus and reserve some of the liquid!
3. Heat a medium sauté pan over medium high heat (don't put any oil or spray in it).
4. Place bacon into pan and dry until brown and crispy, or until your husband comes into the kitchen because of the smell.
5. Place the cooked bacon on a paper towel-lined plate and let drain.
6. Drain off some of the bacon grease and reduce heat to low. Be extremely careful; hot grease is very, very hot and very, very dangerous!
7. In the remaining bacon grease, sauté the garlic, shallot, and red pepper flakes about 1-2 minutes, making sure not to burn the garlic. Remove pan from heat.
8. Place the drained linguini and asparagus in the pan with the garlic and shallot and turn to incorporate.
9. Add parmesan cheese and turn to coat.
10. Add beaten eggs and turn to coat and let eggs cook, about 2 minutes. If the pasta mixture is too thick, loosen it up with some of the reserved pasta cooking liquid.
11. Plate and buon appetito! 

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Living on Gelato

I'm not even kidding. I lived on gelato for two straight weeks while in Italy, not because I was unable to get actual food, but because I think I became somewhat addicted to the delectable frozen treat. Don't ask me how much weight I gained. Don't you dare.

Italy was my very first trip abroad. I went there as a scrawny 15-year-old, naïve to the world and certainly unaware of the delicious, dream-like nectar of the gods the Italians like to call "gelato." Whenever people ask me about it, all I can really tell them is, "It's a frozen custard somewhere between ice cream and frozen yogurt." I think it might also include some element of heaven particles.

Trust me, it's freaking delicious.

I attempted to make it once before, but I was unfortunately unable to replicate the smooth, velvety texture I experienced in Italy. In fact, all I ended up with was a gloopy-gloppy mess. Quite the disappointment to realize that heaven will forever be thousands of miles away in some Italian freezer. :( If you'd like me to try again and post the results to the blog, let me know in the comments and perhaps I'll muster up the courage to try again...maybe.

Sigh.

This week, to celebrate Italian cuisine, I'll be trying a linguini with bacon, parmigiano, and asparagus. We'll see how it turns out! People have this very unfortunate misconception about Italian food, as if every pizza is akin to the monstrously greasy American adaptations, and everything is covered in sickeningly sweet, watery marinara sauce. As you can see, I have an issue with Americanized "Italian" food. And I'm not trying to be a food snob, but Italian food has integrity, and when we reduce such a rich culinary tradition to lasagna noodles smothered in Prego, it hurts my feelings. That's why I've developed this linguini recipe, to show you that Italians can have a good time without marinara sauce. Plus, Matt's been pestering me about cooking with bacon, so I thought it's probably time to give in. Until we try the linguini recipe, though, I'll give you a little taste of Italy in photos.

The Italian Parliament, affectionately called "The Birthday Cake." Great. Now I want cake. Is Lent over yet?!

The Trevi Fountain. All you Lizzie McQuire Movie fans from back in the day will know this one. :)

The view from inside the Roman coliseum.

Florence, the most beautiful city I've ever experienced. I got lost in the city, eventually found my way back to Il Duomo, and spent the rest of the day people watching while lapping up my melting cone of gelato on the steps. Best day ever.

Italy has the most beautiful cathedrals.

My torso in front of the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. And yes, if you were standing where I'm standing in the photo, you'd see plenty of people obnoxiously putting their hands up to mimic holding up the tower.

Next post includes bacon! That's all you really need to know. :)

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French dish o' the day: Provençal Chicken

I hope you're all ready for me to divulge one of my greatest kitchen secrets. Listening closely?

Okay, here it is: French food doesn't have to be pretentious, and not only is this dish one of my favorites to eat, it's also one of the easiest to make.

Don't tell anyone, especially Matt. He seems to think I'm some sort of master chef whenever Provençal chicken is on the table, and I'd like to keep him thinking that way because I am shallow and like the compliments. What? Like you don't like a little ego padding once in a while? ;)

Whenever I'm short on time, cranky, or tired, I turn to this dish. It's my go-to recipe because it delivers big flavor with minimal effort. Be advised, though, that since I've made it so many times it's easier than it will be the first few times around for those not familiar with the recipe. Stick with it, and your spouses will think you're a domestic goddess.

I like to serve it with rice (our favorite is Trader Joe's Brown Rice Medley, which has long grain brown rice, black barley, and daikon radish seeds. Sounds strange, tastes AMAZING.) and a veggie. I've got Matt hooked on roasted veggies, and since it's asparagus season we've been eating TONS of it! To roast veggies, preheat your oven to 400-425 degrees Fahrenheit. For more delicate veggies like asparagus, I go with 400 degrees, but for hearty ones like potatoes, I kick it up to 425. Line a baking sheet with tin foil--for easy cleanup--and place your washed and dried veggies on it. Drizzle 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil on top of the veggies, shuffle the veg around with your hands to make sure they're all covered with olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and pop in the oven for 15-20 minutes (depending on the veggie). You can change it up though; sometimes we'll pair the chicken with roast potatoes as our starch and sauté some French green beans. Do whatever's in season, on sale, or just sounds good.

This dish attributed to the south of France is a perfect blend of hearty chicken, the delicate mélange of flavors from herbes de provence (see note in the ingredients list), and the tangy quality of lemon, wine, and mustard. Eating this dish is like getting a big, warm hug from France, and I love the fact that the flavors are so simple and affordable but deliver such amazing flavor.

Since I hate wasting good flavor, I like to make a simple pan gravy after the chicken finishes cooking. It tastes AWESOME over rice, and since it carries the flavors of the chicken, I think it really ties the dish together.

Provençal Chicken
Prep time: 10 min.    
Cook time: 20 min.

Boneless skinless chicken breasts (one for each person)
Extra virgin olive oil
Herbes de Provence (a delicious combo of lots of herbs sold all over the south of France)
Salt and pepper
1 clove garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced (If you haven't discovered the wonderfully mild onion-y flavor of shallots, I definitely suggest giving them a try!)
1 lemon, juiced 
1-2 T all-purpose flour
1-1.5 c. dry white wine or chicken broth
1/2 T Dijon mustard 


1. In a medium or large sauté pan, heat your olive oil over medium heat. While you're waiting for the oil to heat, season your chicken breasts on both sides with salt, pepper, and herbes de Provence. Be generous; chicken tends to be a little dull.

2. Once your oil is heated, place your chicken breasts in the pan and cook until golden brown, about 6 minutes on each side. Once cooked through, remove chicken from heat and cover with tin foil so that the chicken can rest and stay warm.

3. In the same pan, cook the garlic and shallots. Be sure not to burn your garlic! It'll be a pretty quick process, maybe 1-1.5 minutes, so watch the pan carefully.

4. Toss the juice from your lemon in the pan. I love how, when the lemon juice hits the hot pan, it hisses back at you. Lemon is so sassy!

5. Throw a tablespoon of all-purpose flour into the pan and stir with a whisk. Using a whisk is very important because it effectively incorporates the flour into the other ingredients in the pan. Let the flour cook at least a minute; you want to cook out the flat flour-y taste. The flour is acting as your thickener for your gravy here.

6. Whisking constantly, pour your white wine or chicken broth into the pan. Be sure to thoroughly incorporate the liquid into the flour mixture so that your pan gravy is satiny smooth. Squirt in the Dijon mustard and incorporate into the gravy. Mustard also acts as a thickener, so if you find that your gravy is too thick for your liking, feel free to add some more wine or broth. It'll thicken more as it cooks, so don't get too trigger happy on adding more liquid or you'll end up with thin gravy. When it's thickened to your liking, season to taste.

7. Time to plate your dish!

Bon appétit!

Tomorrow, we're making crêpes! We bought Nutella to stuff them with...we just couldn't help ourselves.

Until then, bonne nuit!

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Photos from France

Hi all!

Since I shared with you in my last post that I had studied photography in Provence, France, I thought it would be neat to pull out some of my photos and relive the trip again. :)

Don't get used to any sort of photography blog, because once I had to give back my school-issued Canon Rebel (the camera I have since been pining for every time we go to Best Buy), my photography capability was reduced to the camera on my smartphone. (I feel like that deserves a #firstworldproblems.)

Anywhere, here in its abbreviated glory, is my brief life in Provence.

I always dreamed of framing my market photos and putting them in my house, but I haven't gotten to it yet. :(

This is one of my favorites. It was taken at a church at the very top of this small mountain town, and the image of the cross standing alone at sunset struck me as being very moving.

The French flag flying proudly in the light of the setting sun.

Love this one, too. I literally squatted down in a field for about a half hour to get this shot of this tiny little flower just right.

Looking out over the Mediterranean.

Mary looking down from the entrance to a monastery-turned-insane asylum where Van Gogh was admitted as a patient.

A lonely chair sits in the sunlight streaming through an asylum window.

A bumblebee enjoys the expanse of French lavender fields.

That's all for now! If you'd like to see more, let me know and I'll post some. :) I love sharing my travels! I hope you'll share your memories of France in the comments!

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J'aime vraiment les Français! (I truly love the French people!)

We're finally back home in Lincoln after our trip to the Land of Lincoln (small world, huh?), so now it's time to get back to the food and travel and revisit my very favorite place: France!

The light of the sinking sun over the fields of Provence.

I studied photography in Provence, France in the summer of 2008, and it was, by far, the best thing I did during my time in college (okay, okay, besides meet my husband). I had studied French for a good chunk of my life, and had always wanted to talk with the French in their native tongue. Provence is the area in the south-central part of France, and you can liken it and its people to, say, us Nebraskans or our friendly neighbors in Kansas. Just stick with me on this.

We stayed with a young Frenchman, Vincent, and his American girlfriend in their villa in the tiny Provencal town of St. Cécile. What a life, huh? It took me a while to get used to the French way of life in our tiny little town: stone-paved roads, daily trips to the boulangerie for some croissants for breakfast, unreliable store hours (the storekeepers will open when they damn well please, thank you very much!), and most of all...no 24-hour conveniences. I recall one particular incident when, at 10 p.m., we students realized that we had run out of toilet paper. It was a Friday night, and there was no guarantee that the stores would be open the next morning. I had never missed Walmart before, and I never will again, but that night, I wished for nothing more than its dingy lighting and cranky cashiers.

Americans seem to have developed a pretty negative opinion of the French, and I think that's very unfortunate. Perhaps the inverse is also true, and so while I was there (as is true whenever I go abroad) I tried my best to be a good delegate for my country. The people of Provence may very well be different than their fast-paced city neighbors to the north, but they'll always be what I remember of France.

It wasn't hard to fall in love with the French. They are kind and welcoming, and they find as much joy in a good meal, glass of wine, and good conversation as we get in a pay raise. They find such joy in life, and they seem to have a sort of beautiful rhythm to how they live. After I got over the initial shock of the fact that the French don't run on any sort of deadlines and got used to the concept of "French time," I found myself utterly enchanted by the French way of life. I wandered around the marketplace of each little town we went, and instead of looking at the pretty jewelry or the delicate linens or the ceramics in every color, I found myself much more interested in the people, their conversations, and their gestures (okay, I was pretty mesmerized by the fruits and veggies, too!). In fact, I soon came to realize that I enjoyed talking with complete strangers than talking with most of the students in my group; for some reason, I was very shy around the American students but quite outgoing with the French. C'est la vie.

My French market friend.

One day, our assignment was to walk through the market and take candid photos of people to try to capture that French essence. The concept isn't as impossible as you might think, since everything the French do oozes with a kind of style that isn't too hard to capture on film. However, I was very uncomfortable creeping around and snapping photos of strangers, especially after I had a conversation--in French--with a merchant selling linens who, after watching my classmates snap photos of everything that breathed, told me that it's very rude to take photos of the merchants and their products with no intent to buy anything. Heeding his warning, I bought a few products from a few vendors and tried as best as I could to discretely catch a few photos. I think I only got four photos the entire day, but right when I was about to give up, I decided to give it one last shot and just turn around and snap a photo of whatever the camera came to be pointing at. When I looked at the image I'd captured, I saw a man standing there, arms open, smiling. I looked up, and the man was still standing there with that big smile. He said had seen me walking around the market all day and knew that I was supposed to be taking pictures but knew that I was too shy, so he thought he'd help me out. See what I mean? These people are something special.

The photo of this man will always be very special to me. I'll never forget him, or the elderly woman who leaned out of her apartment window to talk to me about her cats, or the funky, tan, blonde man selling clothing out of his old Volkswagen at the market who looked more like a California surfer dude than a Frenchman. When I walked by, he took one look at my (then) tan skin and equally fake blonde hair and started to sing, "I wish we all could be California girrrrrllllssss!" with a heavy French accent. We talked for some time, and I told him about Nebraska (surprisingly, he'd never heard of it), and enjoyed his company so much that I bought perhaps the silliest outfit I have ever purchased in my life: a one-piece camouflage zip-up dress (military-esque badges included) that I've only ever worn for Halloween because it's so gawdy.

My Halloween costume, thanks to my French buddy. I have dubbed it: Colonel Major Sexy. I don't think I quite pull it off!

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St. Patty's in the Land of Lincoln

Hi all!

I'm coming at you today from Springfield, Illinois, where Matt and I are spending few days visiting our soon-to-be hometown. Matt was accepted in to the University of Illinois-Springfield political science graduate program, and we're on a mission to get to know the town.

Admittedly, from Lincoln, it's a pretty dull seven hour drive straight across Missouri. The weather yesterday was incredibly dull and gray, too, which didn't help. But I had good company, and the excitement of getting there kept us upbeat.

We got to Springfield around 5 p.m., checked into our hotel, and promptly headed out to discover the town. We drove around UIS campus (I'll post pictures of that later; we'll go for an official visit on Tuesday), drove around, and eventually ended up at a very nice mall. We weren't looking to buy anything, but it was great to stretch our legs.

We didn't get much sleep last night, thanks to some rowdy St. Patty's day revelers in the room right above ours. We woke up early, wished our upstairs neighbors well with their hangovers (kidding), and walked to the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception for Mass (I didn't snap any photos, sorry!). Our hotel is right in the thick of Springfield's historic downtown, and so today we spent nearly the entire day on foot checking out the sights.

We visited Lincoln's home, which was a really cool experience. We didn't get to go in, since you had to go on an official tour with tickets to do that, but we spent a long time walking around the neighborhood, which was sort of like a living history museum.

Me hanging at Abe's house.

After that, we visited the old state capitol and Abe's law practice, where Matt was caught photobombing a statue of Abe and Mary Todd Lincoln.

When you see it...

We caught lunch at this charming little cafe (wish I had taken pictures for you), headed back for a much-needed nap, and decided to end the day with a trip to the Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. Matt, the resident Civil War history guru, thought some parts were a bit too theatrical for his taste, but I enjoyed it.

Hangin' with the fam. Robert doesn't look too happy to have Matt standing in front of him.

One thing was certain by the end of the day: We wanted to watch the movie "Lincoln" again, so we went out to buy it. Unfortunately (or maybe not so unfortunately!), our trip to Target yielded nothing but some Mike and Ike's and some Cool Mint Oreos. Turns out "Lincoln" isn't on sale on DVD until March 26. Bummer.

Tomorrow, we'll be apartment hunting. Wish us luck!

When we get back to Lincoln on Thursday, it'll be all about French culture and cuisine (my favorite!).

Until next time!

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Paella Party

Last night, we had a paella party, and it was wonderful.

Assembling the ingredients took some time, and even required a trip to Trader Joe's, who carries saffron. (Shout-out to my mother-in-law for the TJ's gift card! Today's blog post is for you!)

For those who don't know, saffron is a very interesting member of the spice cabinet family. It's actually the stamen of the crocus flower, which measures a 6 on the awesome factor scale. When it comes into contact with liquid, it'll release a beautiful yellowish tint to food, which is definitely what we want when it comes to paella. Just trust me on this.

If you're digging the saffron love, click here to learn more about it.

I don't have a paella pan, so I just used the biggest pan/skillet I had. Trust me, you're going to need the biggest one you can find. I tried to sell Matt on the merits of buying a paella pan, but I don't think he's sold on the idea...yet. I'll keep working on that.

I got this super easy paella recipe from AllRecipes.com.


Easy Paella

Prep time: 30 minutes

Cook time: 30 minutes

Makes 6-8 servings, depending on how hungry we are!

Ingredients:

Makes servings US Metric Adjust Recipe (Help)

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoon paprika
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into 2 inch pieces
    
   
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (I'd say throw in a little more if you're a spicy fan)
• 2 cups uncooked short-grain white rice
• 1 pinch saffron threads   
  1 bay leaf
• 1/2 bunch Italian flat leaf parsley, chopped
• 1 quart chicken stock
• 2 lemons, zested
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 Spanish onion, chopped (I used 1/2 of a white onion)
• 1 red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
• 1 pound chorizo sausage, casings removed and crumbled
• 1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined  (I couldn't convince Matt to let me throw in shrimp, so we skipped this ingredient. Traditional paella recipes will have mussels or some other sort of shellfish, so go for that if you're a seafood person.)
• I threw in about 1/2 bag of frozen peas, both because I think I remembered the paella I had in Barcelona to have had peas, and also because any chance I have to get Matt to eat more veggies, I'll take it! 

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, mix together 2 tablespoons olive oil, paprika, oregano, and salt and pepper. Stir in chicken pieces to coat. Cover, and refrigerate.
2. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet or paella pan over medium heat. Stir in garlic, red pepper flakes, and rice. Cook, stirring, to coat rice with oil, about 3 minutes. Stir in saffron threads, bay leaf, parsley, chicken stock, and lemon zest. Bring to a boil, cover, and reduce heat to medium low. Simmer 20 minutes.
3. Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a separate skillet over medium heat. Stir in marinated chicken and onion; cook 5 minutes. Stir in bell pepper and sausage; cook 5 minutes. Stir in shrimp (if used); cook, turning the shrimp, until both sides are pink.
4. Spread rice mixture onto a serving tray. Top with meat and seafood mixture.

I wish computers had smell-o-vision, because you would not believe the wonderful smell this dish makes. Just ask Mojo, who spent the entire time this recipe was cooking at my feet, waiting desperately for me to spill or drop something from the pan.

The chorizo is really the kicker; if you remember my love affair with chorizo from the post about chorizo con huevos, you'll know how awesome chorizo tastes. What I learned from trying this recipe is that chorizo plays well with others; it didn't overpower any of the flavors (especially the great marinade that went on the chicken), and brought its delicious spicy zest to the party. Chorizo is any ingredient's best wingman; bring him to the party and you're bound to hit it off well.

I knew as soon as I took a bite that we had a winner (And yes! Matt was going to eat peas!). This paella recipe delivered on the hearty, subtly spicy dish I remember from traveling in Spain. I love it when that happens! Of course, my paella will never, ever be as good as the traditional Spanish paella, but if I can get that close, I'm happy.

Matt's stunned silence.

Matt seemed pretty happy, too. When he likes what you've made, he won't say anything for a long time, and instead just sit there, placing forkfuls of it in his mouth, and stare at you like you're God or something. Then, after a few minutes of this silent bliss, he's say, "Thank you."

When that happens, it's best if you go ahead and put the recipe in your "keep" pile.

Contrary to what the picture to your right shows, we did have a Spanish red wine to go along with our dinner. I considered picking up or making some sangria, but decided at the last minute to go with a garnacha/syrah. I don't usually go for reds because I think they taste like smelly gym socks, but I went for it. Unfortunately, this red didn't change my opinion, so we corked it and will probably try to pawn it off on my parents, who are wonderfully classy wine fans. If enjoying wine is genetic, maybe I should just try to acquire a taste for smelly gym socks.

Tonight, we'll drop our dogs, Mojo and Chloe, off with my parents, who will be looking after "the kids" until Tuesday. Matt and I are headed for Springfield, Illinois, where he'll be studying for his master's degree in political science beginning this August. We'll keep you updated, and I'll be posting pictures of the trip, the town, and of course the food! Also, since St. Patty's Day is Sunday, I'll probably take a culinary detour and see if I can't rustle up some semi-authentic Irish grub in Springfield.

Cheers!

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We're on Pinterest!

Hi all!

I'm pleased to announce that Wanderlust and Second Helpings is now on Pinterest! The Pinterest board is full of pictures, recipes, tips, and other tidbits to help you explore the world without even having to leave the comfort of your couch. Heck, you could even do it in your PJ's, although if you do travel the world, I would suggest leaving your footie PJ's at home. :)

Check it out and please follow the Wanderlust and Second Helpings board on Pinterest!

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Remembering Barcelona

I know it sounds strange, but in all of my travels the place I've connected with best is Barcelona. I first visited the city as a high schooler, and immediately fell in love with its vibrant, fast-paced culture and its old-world charm. It's a modern city nestled up against Spain's dynamic past.

And both times I've been there, I've ended up at the McDonald's in the Plaça de Catalunya, quite against my will, I'll have you know.

But seriously, is McDonald's the American embassy or something? Sheesh. Do me a favor, guys: Put down the Big Mac and explore the local eateries when you're abroad. You can thank me later.

Since that first trip to Barcelona, I've been trying to put my finger on what it is exactly that draws me so blissfully close to Spain's culture.

Honestly, I think a big part of it comes from the way the Spanish live. I love that the energy of the city ebbs and flows between rush hour and siesta, and then culminates in a nightly celebration of music, food, and light in the Plaça. Sure, the city is busy like New York or Chicago. But the Spanish do busy with style. The city has the energy of New York but the relaxed, methodical rhythm of the Rivera. While siesta confused me the first few days I was there, I soon got very used to the idea that a midday break from the stress of work was a fact of life.

And then there's Barcelona's quirky atmosphere. The city is amazingly diverse; on the Las Ramblas end, there's the port and beach. Then you've got the interest of the Plaça's high-end stores and eateries. (On a side note, that's where, during my high school trip, I saw my very first Afghan war protest: hundreds of naked people were riding bicycles down the street. While we Americans stood back in shock and--admittedly--interest, the Spaniards around us seemed to just roll their eyes and go about their days, like it was just another Tuesday. How the naked cycling was going to put an end to the war, I'll never know.)

But I digress.

As you worm your way through the busy streets of Barcelona, you'll find yourself staring up at the impressive architecture of Gaudí, especially La Sagrada Familia, which was once known as "the Unfinished Cathedral," due to its on-again-off-again construction. (I think it's done now...if you know, chat with me in the comments.)

La Sagrada Familia ("The Unfinished Cathedral")

I remember riding through Barcelona, mouth ajar, too impressed even to raise my camera to snap a picture. This is actually the only photo of the Sagrada Familia I have from either trip. I know, I know, shame on me.

I wish I could go back to Barcelona very soon. My second and most recent trip there came in the form of a weekend getaway while studying in the south of France. I was so great to get a chance to visit the city again, and I hope it wasn't my last time doing so.

Since I don't have many photos to share with you, I hope my recipe highlight for Spain will do. I remember sitting down at a little restaurant nestled neatly into Las Ramblas, so quaint that if it were not for the smell of paella wafting down the street, I would never even have noticed it. I ordered the paella with the help of my professor, Luis, who speaks Spanish. I kept quiet and tried my best to look very Spanish (not successfully, I'm sure) as Luis rattled off our order to the waiter.

When the dish came, I was in love. Paella, if you're not familiar, is a devilishly delicious concoction of rice, sausage, seafood, and sometimes chicken, all introduced to each other by saffron, one of daintiest things you'll ever have in your spice cabinet. It's so good, it even gets its very own pan!

I'll remember the taste of that first paella forever, but I'm sorry to report that I doubt I'll ever be able to reproduce it. Sigh...a girl can try though!

Next post: PAELLA!

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Kitchen Emergencies...and Chorizo

Yesterday evening was quite the adventure.

On the menu was chorizo con huevos (or, in 'Merican terms, "sausage and eggs"). But chorizo isn't just any pork sausage. It has a spicy, savory, magical quality to it that makes you want to eat pounds of it and never, ever look at the fat content. Seriously, never do that. It's a bad idea. But really, no one ever expects sausage to be a health food.

Anyway, so before I was going to start dinner, I needed to clean up the kitchen a bit to make room. I was cleaning the supplies from a recipe that I found on Pinterest and we absolutely LOVE: baked homemade Sriracha chips. YUM.

So here I am, feeling quite domesticated, washing dishes, when I reached down to wash our kitchen mandolin, which I use to slice the potatoes into thin disks. I must have spaced out, because I know how sharp that kitchen tool is. Well, to spare you the gory details, I cut my finger. BAD.

Matt, after administering some first aid, decided that perhaps he would cook dinner.

And so, for your entertaining and culinary pleasure: Chef Matt!

Just look at the master work.

Chorizo con Huevos

• Chorizo, 10 oz. (you can find this in most grocery stores, but if you can't find it in yours, check out your local Mexican goods store. Theirs would probably be even better!)
• Eggs (I used 3)
• Corn salsa (I made mine a few days prior, using corn--fresh, canned or frozen--diced onions, diced jalapenos, black beans, and cilantro)
• Flour tortillas (learn how to make your own here!)

1. Put your chorizo into a pan and brown on medium heat. You won't need any oil in the pan. Trust me, the chorizo has enough grease!
2. Once your chorizo is browned, drain it off by putting the browned chorizo in a colander. Do not rinse.
3. Put your drained chorizo back into your pan (you don't need to rinse out the pan), throw in three eggs, and scramble. 
4. Throw in your corn salsa to heat through.
5. Warm up your tortillas in the microwave or oven.
6. Scoop up some chorizo mixture onto your tortillas, top with some cheese, roll, and enjoy! This is one of Matt and my best guilty pleasures...it is SO GOOD!

Looking at the picture makes me wish I had some right now. :( Good thing it's so easy to make!

But for now, we have to say goodbye to the beauty of Mexican cuisine. Adios!

Next up, Spanish cuisine! Hola!

I'm thinking paella. Any other ideas Spanish food to try? Please let me know in the comments!

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¡Bienvenidos a Mexico!

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

I've been looking forward to exploring the cuisine of Mexico (does going to our favorite Mexican restaurant count?) for a while, since I was just there over Christmas break.

My husband, myself, and the in-laws (it sounds so strange to say that, since the phrase "in-laws" is usually accompanied by negativity...but not these in-laws!) ventured down to Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas on a Dutch cruise ship over Christmas. It was great!

I approached our trip to Mexico in typical Betsey fashion: "I'm tired." "It's too hot." "I'm too pale to be outside." "I'm seasick." "No, really, I'm seasick." "Does anyone have dramamine?"

The Heidrick Clan playing team trivia aboard the cruise ship.

You get the picture. I'm not always the best traveler.

It's a good thing my family (there, I like that much better than "the in-laws") is a group of very happy, positive people. I mean, just look at those smiles!

A few days after leaving port in San Diego, we arrived in Puerto Vallarta on Christmas day in dazzling sunshine and 70 degree weather...not exactly the kind of weather this Nebraska girl is used to experiencing on Christmas!

Since it was Christmas, the town of Puerto Vallarta was sleepy and quiet. It gave us a good chance to explore a bit. After walking around town for some time, we stumbled upon the town's beautiful church, the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I am being totally honest when I say that, prior to this trip, I had no idea that the Lady of Guadalupe was the Virgin Mary. Hey, give me a break. I'm not officially Catholic until Easter, so I'm still learning!

It was a cultural wonder, really. I have seen my fair share of churches (Catholic, Protestant, cathedral, monastery...you name it!) all over Europe, but the experience of Christmas Mass in this church was unlike anything I was at all familiar with.

First of all, it was 70 degrees! With my time in Europe as my only frame of reference in how to dress for non-American Mass, I had thrown on black dress pants and a blouse. I must have looked like I was going to a funeral; the families attending Mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe came pouring into the church like waves of vibrant color, filling the seats with a rainbow of tropical shades I hadn't expected to see. Even the church itself was adorned in bright colors.

At first, I was dismayed, primarily because I was, by this time, very sweaty, but also because I felt somewhat out of place because of my outfit. As I looked around, I saw shorts (some scandalously so), skirts, tank tops, and sandals. I saw generations of families sitting together, grandmothers sitting primly with lace head coverings next to their granddaughters with short shorts and Abercrombie T-shirts.

As the musical notes of the priest's Spanish language homily sang on, I began to appreciate what was in front of me. I saw the incredible diversity of Mexico there, in that crowded, hot church, on Christmas day.

Until next time!

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A Kitchen Fail - Sao Paulo Style

In my last post, I promised you Pão de Queijo, a Brazilian cheesy roll that is often eaten for breakfast or for snacks.

What I got was an ingredient wild goose chase and little puck-like, salty biscuits.

If it sounds like there's a story here, it's because there totally is.

At first glance, the recipe looks rather simple:


From About.com:

Ingredients:

• 2 cups whole milk
• 8 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 4 1/4 cups tapioca flour (I used the same amount of self-rising flour. NOT a good idea!)
• 4 eggs
• 2 cups grated farmer's cheese, or any firm, fresh cows milk cheese
• 1/4 cup grated cheddar cheese (optional)
• salt to taste

Preparation:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix milk, salt, vegetable oil and butter in a pot, and bring to a boil. As soon as it boils, remove from heat.
3. Stir tapioca flour into the milk and butter mixture.
4. Stir in the eggs and the cheese, and mix well.
5. Let mixture cool for 15-30 minutes, so that it will be easier to handle. (I like to chill it in the refrigerator for 15 minutes or so).
6. With floured (tapioca flour) hands, shape the dough into golf ball size balls (about 50 gram portions) and place them on a baking sheet.
7. Bake rolls for 20 to 25 minutes, until they are puffed up and are golden. They will rise slowly and puff up mostly in the last 5 or 10 minutes.
8. Serve warm.

Pretty easy sounding, right?

Full of confidence, I entered the grocery store and enthusiastically picked up all the ingredients except one: tapioca flour.

I looked everywhere. I asked for help from store staff, and was met with the same bewildered look I had been running around the store with for about 15 minutes of not finding it. I told the staff what recipe I was planning on baking, but that didn't help, either. Everyone I asked was very nice and helpful, but seemed confused and curious as to why a small American girl was trying to find a rare ingredient for Brazilian biscuits.

So, after some time, I resigned myself to the fact that this recipe just wasn't going to happen. And then, out of nowhere, like some epiphany sent from St. Tapioca, patron saint of impossible Brazilian recipes, I decided that self-rising flour would be a great substitute.

...Wrong.

I followed the directions, and after Steps 1-4, I ended up with this:

 

It was a sticky, goopy mess. I was less than excited about what seemed to be the gruel in my pan, but I went ahead and followed the recipe all the way to the end. The final product looked to be about what I had expected:

 

The taste, though, was not at all like what I had hoped it would be. I didn't add any salt to the recipe, but the rolls have a very potent salty taste. I wanted to call it a day and through them out, but Matt really seems to like them. I'll be sure to keep track of his blood pressure, since I am sure the sodium fairy came and dumped a pound of salt in my pan when I wasn't looking.

Next time, perhaps, Brazil. It's disheartening since this was the easiest, most doable Brazilian recipe I could find with what I had hoped would be easy-to-find ingredients in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

If there are any Brazilians out there who'd like to give me some ideas for recipes, I'd love to hear them!

For now, though, it's time to say goodbye to Brazil and hello to Mexico! Next stop: Puerto Vallarta! 

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