I'm glad, orange you?

ORANGE! by grimmc3 featuring Ted Baker bags

1. Kate Spade Klick Sandal
2. Anthropologie Gravitational Pull Sunhat
3. Ted Baker 'Bobble Kisslock' Large Patent Wallet (this was my Valentines present from KC!)
4. Toywatch Jelly Watch
5. OPI - A Good Man-darin is Hard to Find

I am celebrating my current infatuation with the color orange.  Not really the shade of Florida's finest, but the deep, bright color of traffic cones and the lovely, if not fluorescent, items seen above.

This post is two-fold, really.  Inspired by my orange-obsession and by the aol homepage article explaining the importance of "super foods", I combined two of my favorie pastimes: eating and online shopping.  Admittedly embarassed that a) my homepage is still the standard aol.com that came with this bargain friendly laptop and b) I'm still duped into clicking on the page's scrolling pictures unveiling the worlds most invaluable news (ie, 'Kid Flushes Puppy Down Toilet', or 'What Happened to the Cast of Wings?').

To give credit where credit is due, I did find aol's picture of a butternut squash curious (especially after 'Armless Kicker tries out for Team') and thus clicked on to see where it would take me.  A fascinating article - using the term very loosely - in which there were more words than pictures (much unlike this blog) detailing the importance of superfoods, many of which are brilliantly orange: sweet potatos, butternut squash, carrots.  It's all about the beta-carotene and maybe some other long vitamin names.  Now I've been on a carrot kick for a few weeks anyway.  They're cheap, guilt free, and, when whole, have a whimsical ability to make you feel like/think of bugs bunny, attempt your best "what's up doc?" and coyly smile.  No?  They don't have the same effect on you?  Not the first time I'm in a category of my own...

Feeling challenged to create an orange superfood feast, I searched high and low for the best recipe while simultaneously browsing for some pretty orange things (see above) to enhance my summer wardrobe which happens to be boxed up somewhere in Dallas, or Baltimore, or perhaps scattered along I-40W.

Here's the recipe: Gordon Ramsay's Spiced Carrot & Butternut Squash Soup! 

I realize that April isn't exactly the time of year your body craves a thick, autumnal spiced soup, but I don't care.  This is England, people!  There are as many rainy, grey days here as there are sunny days in Miami.  Plus, I love soup.  And, it's so easy to make...usually. 

Enter: butternut squash.  while I've had squash in soup form, I didn't realize that I had little idea what one actually looked like.  Regardless, I perused the M&S food hall until I found the white-ish, half pumpkin, half gourd looking monster and marched on.

Dicing it into cubes was an entirely different ballgame.  Perhaps like cricket?  I've heard of it, I've even seen snippets of a match, but it's a bit odd and takes forever (days even!), as did the dicing.  The process wasn't pretty.  I hacked and butchered and even managed to cut the squash some of the time.  The result was 3 bandaged fingers.  I'm not even remotely kidding.  Could be the cheap knives in our furnished flat, or, believably, my impulsiveness and clumsiness.

I fought the squash and the squash won.  Moral of the story is, unless you have a few extra hours and appendages to spare, just buy it pre-cubed.

Regardless, the soup was delish.  Also, I used an immersion blender to puree it because that's how I roll.

Everyone's a sucker for something...

I'm a sucker for glossy magazine adverts.  You know, the kind that want impressionable young things like myself to fall victim.  Case in point: Chanel's new and "improved" lipstick line, Rouge Coco.

Maybe it's the fact that her smackers are so precisely lipsticked that I actually think, by use of the same product, mine will appear comparably flawless.  Perhaps it's the perfectly printed "CHANEL" in the column of lipstick pigment (visible in picture below).  Or is it because this chick is Johnny Depp's partner/baby-mama that I have declared my capital intentions to set myself back 30 bucks.

For approximately 10 seconds, I wonder what it is that makes me want to acquire my own Rouge Coco (how...French?) post haste.  My ponderous ways last no longer, of course, as I dash to my keys, slam the door behind me and tastefully jog down the steep hill to our local House of Fraser where I know the luxury brand is carried...which, I have no doubt, is exactly what Coco Chanel would have done...

Right.  So maybe it didn't happen exactly like that, but the point is, I bought (magazine), I saw (advert), I conquered (lipstick residing in my bag).  Plus, I did sort of hurriedly waddle down the big hill to the House of Fraser, excited to find my perfect shade (I went with #10, Camelia).  The kindly Chanel consultant, clad in the brightest shade of coral/gold lipstick - there exists such a combination - helped me pick out the best color.  Basically, she suggested one and I bought another.  You would have too, had you viewed her lips.

Regarding the 'stick's ability to provide me hours of moisture, saturated color, and a partner the equivalent of Johnny Depp?  I am unsure.  I fear that I'm eternally destined for dry/chapped lips.  I'm just not sure any product, whatever the exorbitant price, will remedy my kisser.  The colors are lush, though.  And Johnny Depp isn't for me anyway.  Sure, he's fun to watch in his best pirate garb, or with inanimate objects for hands, but KC blows him out of those pirated waters any day.

In conclusion, would I buy another tube of Rouge Coco?  Of course I would...just waiting for the next shiny advert to cross my vision.

Oxford in 2.5 hours

Weeks ago I spent a morning in Oxford en route back to Plymouth.  Aside from the camera I toted in plain view (and the rather large Harvey Nic's bag from a day spent in London), I totally looked like an Oxford student.  At least that's what I told myself and, not so secretly, what I desired.

Oxford was a powerful place overrun with rocket scientists, a large quantity of old stone, canoes-a-plenty (pardon my lack of rowing vocabulary - are they called canoes?), and the occassional Robert Pattinson look-a-like.

I use the phrase "phenominally old" far too often in my description of things in Europe, but it's just plain true.  I've been fortunate enough to have traveled a good bit of central Europe in my short 25 years and what amazes me more than the languages, more than the museums, more than the people, and more than the culture is simply how old the architecture is.

I remember furiously traversing Rome in an attempt to make it from one major tourist landmark to another in 48 hours, and stopping to catch my breath for the 5 seconds I allowed for such pertinent action.  Inevitably, whenever I would do so, I would literally find myself standing in front of a piece of rock with a barely legible plaque stating its origin in, like, the 1st century.  It would then happen all over again hours later with another random bit of ancient remains.  It blew my mind.

On a different scale, Oxford seemed to have a similar effect.  While not quite as old as the Colosseum, I still felt the profoundness of turning, looking straight up and seeing yet another massive turret, belonging to another massively old stone college.  I did actually buy a map in the Oxford train station hoping that my few short hours would be spent efficiently touring the most famous of colleges (wikipedia claims there's 38 total), but gave up when I realized a) it was a crappy map, b) my feet hurt from 2 days in Londontown and c) I had 2.5 hours until my train to Plymouth departed.  I did what any spoiled tourist would do: hailed a cab and told him to take me to Christ Church, of course, because that's where Harry Potter was filmed (duh).

Fortunately, after speeding through the brilliantly traditional sight that is Christ Church, Harry Potter dining hall included, I was able to mosey along it's perimiter and bump into a few other colleges.  Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned crappy map, I struggled to figure out which colleges they were exactly - especially after I stopped to photograph a "closed" college only to be shoo'd off.  That one must be where the rocket science happens.  Oh well.  I still feel like I accomplished seeing Oxford, including a tour of its most famous college, in record breaking time.

Proceed...

Christ Church

It was the greenest green I'd ever seen.

green color feature

green color feature again

Christ Church rugby pitch

before

after

There is no color accent here.  This is exactly what the trees looked like.

Same here - that tree was actually red.  Unreal.

Color accent here but the tree was far better in it's natural color.

When I have my own house I'm going to buy lots of wrot iron and paint it cornflower blue.

Christ Church dining hall.  Straight out of Hogwarts...or maybe the other way around.

Inside Christ Church.

Outside Christ Church.

Cheerio ol' Chaps!

Shoes and Haikus

Opening Ceremony Bow Tie Bootie

Walking on some clouds.
Uh oh, looks like it might rain.
Kick the ink barrel.

image via polyvore.com and barneys.com

Hight Tea...my style

brand of choice.

Though my affinity for tea consumption is something of the last 9 months, it has always been a part of my life, and frankly more constant than any material possession I've had to date.  My Mom has always been/will always be an avid tea drinker.  I could quite easily prepare her morning brew with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back, as it's an act I've witnessed and participated in for the greater part of my life. 

To this day, our mug cupboard (there is a cabinet dedicated entirely to mugs alone that mock you with teetering movement every time you open the door) provides a surplus of comfortably handled canteens, most of which I can recall precise origins.  There are alumni mugs a-plenty from our copious academic endeavors, those hailing from the several charities/organizations for which we serve/contribute, the sports ones because we're all suckered into it every once in a while, the misshapen beauts painstakingly created by yours truly, and the random few that cause morning callers to ponder, "are these people normal?".  The vast majority of them are tea stained to an inch of their life, and those on the front line have the latest rosey Estee Lauder shade printed on them as the dishwasher perseveringly fails to remove lipstick pigment.

I've always enjoyed tea - British, of course, loaded with milk and sugar - but fell victim to coffee and espresso in my collegiate years as it was the only way I could survive Statistics and Anthropology, although I suppose that was my fault for choosing a university that required 2 full years of prerequisite classes, the bulk of which I forgot as soon as the classroom clock ticked minute 50.  Then, I entered the working world of 6 AM wake up calls, after a short stint in childscreamingcare - both requiring coffee multiple times daily.  I still love coffee, but there's a different mentality associated with it for me.

and so we've arrived at my current place, Now, where leisurely teas, 3+ times daily, have become the norm.  In an ode to my love of tea, and my Mom, I present you these 'tea accoutrements' to make those 3+ times daily that much more aesthetically pleasing.

1. Alessi Michael Graves cordless electric kettle.

This is my dream kettle.  It's sleek, stylish, has bird detail, and withstands use in multiple countries as it's cordless.  It's a gem and I'm currently drooling into my 2nd cup of tea today.

2. 'Tea Revives You' print from Keep Calm Gallery.

I'm not usually a fan of food/drink themed artwork in kitchens, but this is an exception.  If I had my own kitchen (or the desire to pay the VAT to ship this to Germany only to ship it back one day), I'd hang this in it.  I love the gray color and graphic print that has a bit of a propaganda feel.

3. Owl and Stump sugar/creamer set from Shoshonasnow shop on Etsy.

Owls may be a trend, but my love for them is deep, true and Kappa Kappa Gamma blue.  That comment had the perfect level of sorority cheese to it, as intended of course.  But really, this set I found on etsy is so fantastic that I actually need it.  I may order it to my parents house...something I've been pledging to do a lot of recently, as I'll be stateside so soon!  And since it's on etsy, my funds would surely be supporting a starving artist, ergo classifying this a socially conscious purchase.  I'll justify spending on anything.  Try me.

4. Big Tomato Company 'English Eccentrics' mugs.

These mugs are beyond brilliant.  I cannot take credit, as our neighbors in Munich have a bunch of them, but they actually accomplish making whatever you're drinking better.  When I visit their flat, I'm typically served in the "posh totty" mug, while my dear friend imbibes from the "desperate housewife" variety.  If you peruse the site, there are hundreds of them.  I've showcased a few favorites above, and have already picked out the ones I'll eventually own by family member:

Mom: "back seat driver"

Dad: "guv'nor"

Brother: "prodigal son"

Sister: "bleeding heart liberal"

Bro2: "footballer"

KC: "hypochondriac" (we can share he he he)

Me: "dictator" (I kid, I kid...although there is one that says that)

Clearly I'd get a few extras too...

5. Cow Creamer

I don't really care what it looks like, as long as it's authentically cow-esque.  I just feel like everyone needs a good cow creamer in case of emergency.

Until I accumulate some of the above devices, I'm left to sip my tea, from water boiled in a sauce pot, in the miniature tacky gluhwein mugs from the Munich Christmas markets (we own like 6)...

Good news is, tea is great regardless.

If I was a Dentist...

I would most certainly advertise in this manner:

pic via onecoolpick

genius, really.

Molly McButter

Do you remember that stuff?  Powdered butter...who would have thought.  It gets me thinking about possible staples that I could powder-fy, tack my name on and make millions with, but so far all I can come up with is peanut butter.  Other than sprinkling that on top of jelly-ed toast, I can't think actually think of any other use for it.  Not to mention the fact that my name's already been taken in butter product market.  I should really collect royalties.

Point of this post isn't to discuss future forms of food items, but to tell you of another butter related experience.  This time, however, it wasn't my fault.

It all began in the Munich airport with my frivilous purchase of an American InStyle magazine.  10 Euro it set me back and no, I am not kidding.  Look, people, it's my favorite publication and I haven't been stateside in a few months so I find it well worth the $13.58 according to the current exchange rate.  The fact that it was an uber-thick issue AND provided me a culinary challenge of the Truffle variety further justified my decision.

Begin experiment.  This recipe comes from some swanky NYC restaurant called The Harrison, and looks just mouthwatering.  Perhaps because of my unconditional love of mac'n'cheese (I've been known to consume an entire box of Kraft's cheesiest and trust me, there were no blue box blues going on), my latest and oddest infatuation with green veggies or my intrigue with truffles...a delicacy I found quite prevalent in Munich this fall.  Whatever it is, it fit the bill as a (not so) healthy companion for my tried-but-true stove-top chicken - a 7x weekly request of KC's.  Little did I know, the challenge had nothing to do with following a recipe which was a breeze.  No, my friends, the real challenge lie in locating truffle ANYTHING in Plymouth, county Devon, England, UK. 

I don't know what gave me the impression I'd be able to find truffle butter (what the recipe called for) or truffle oil in a land where the most revered indulgence is a pasty - phonetically pah-stee and NOT pay-stee as I confidently mispronounced in my first few weeks in the Queen-Motherland.  Story is, pasties were logically crafted as lunch for miners down in the depths of Earth.  Plastered in dirt and who knows what, they'd eat all but the crust which acted as a simple handlebar for the carbtastic deliciousness.  My intentions are NOT to mock the pasty - promise.  Like I say, it's uncomplicated, logical, and downright tasty.  I'm merely creating the backdrop for my unsuccessful truffle hunt here in dear Plymouth.  And hunt I did.

On a blistery Thursay, I set out with determination and a solid pair of flats on...not knowing what mean streets of Plymouth I'd traverse.  Fortunately for story's sake, I managed to cross 6 "stores" off of a nonexistent list in a vain effort to create a posh dish.

Stop #1 was the infallible Marks & Spencer.  I've referenced M&S before as it's a daily stop of mine and our closest Target comparison.  I gathered all of the necessary ingredients save orzo and truffle butter/oil as I knew they'd require polite inquiry.  I found a charming brunette lady - the type that looks like she works in a food mart for no greater reason than to stock her already brimming cupboard with even more discounted baking goods.  The interaction went something like this:

Me:  Hi there, do you happen to know if or where I can find truffle oil here?
Lady:  I'm terribly sorry, my love, but we don't have any at the moment.  You're actually the second person who's asked me today - I wonder if it's the same recipe? (she then walks me to the oils where it would be) Making something nice, are you love?  We actually used to have small bottles, they were right here - see?  We haven't had it in ages though, I would know, I do the ordering.  I'm truly sorry.  Can I help you with anything else?
Me:  Oh well, I knew it'd be a long shot.  My recipe is from an American magazine, so I'm not sure if it would be the same.  It's a truffled orzo with asparagus - you wouldn't by chance know where the orzo is?
Lady:  I'm terribly sorry, my love, I've never heard of it.  I'm not sure what orzo is - my apologies.  What exactly is it?
Me:  It's a pasta but it looks like rice.  That's ok though...can you point me toward the garlic?
(she then marches me through the store, pointing the way, making sure to stop passing foot traffic for me, only to find the last bulb of garlic in the box which was browning and squishy)
Lady:  Oh my goodness, I'm so very sorry, my love, it appears this is the last of the garlic.  It's been a busy day.  Goodness, I haven't been much help have I.
Me:  No, I promise, you've been great - no worries, I'll find the things I need.  Do you know of a place that may carry truffle products?
Lady:  Well first you my try Julian Graves, just across the street.  Then, you might also try Holland & Barrett, also just across the way from that, over on Cornwall Street.  Now I'm not sure if they'll have them, but they might be your best option.
Me:  Thanks so much, you've been quite helpful.

In true British fashion, she called me every sweet name in the book, apologized for what wasn't her fault, was genuinely embarassed that she couldn't properly help me, and gave me loads of suggestions/ vague directions in such a manner that all I could do was smile and think, despite it's lack of anything I needed, that M&S was the greatest place on Earth.  That is customer service.  On to stop #2.

Julian Graves.  This must be some sort of fancy nut store.  I saw a few food storage items, loads of nuts and seeds, and 2 older ladies gabbing behind the small counter with a cup of tea.  I didn't even bother to have a look for myself, and asked straight away for the coveted truffle oil.  Of course they didn't have it, but were happy to pause from their cuppa to kindly provide the bad news, cast doubt on whether their competitors, Holland & Barrett, would carry it, and helpfully suggest two ethnic markets further down the block.  Understanding the vagueness naturally accompanying British directions, I attempted to get a more specific location only to be told that I would surely be able to smell them.  Perfect, of course.

Because I had the time, I gladly shuffled over to stop #3 Holland & Barrett, just to be sure.  The only oils they had in there were of the cod-liver variety.  On to the ethnic parts.

The international shop I was "smelling" for was called Continental Market.  Now the ladies in Julian Graves said it was literally just down the way.  I saw a large sign that said Market and thought, that must be it!  Heading in, I realize it was a legit market hall vending everything from pickles and pies to bootleg DVDs and lace trim.  Somehow, with a greater supply of curtain panels than fruit in the fruit stand, I ascertained that this was not the Continental Market for which I was searching. 

Clearly, I didn't follow my nose.  Exiting the market hall (I guess stop #4), I wandered aimlessly for a few minutes.  Frustrated, confused, and wanting to ask someone, I did a bit of a figure eight on the street I thought it was on.  Crossing back and forth a few times, I was nearing defeat until it happened.  I smelled it.  Sure enough, under a sign fainter than my feet in the thick British fog, was stop #5: the Continental Market.  It was a jewel box...if I'd been looking for rubies and sapphires in the form of curry powders and rice noodles.  They even had real, Canadian Maple Syrup.  Almost over it, with the image of waffles now flashing in my mind, I nearly scrapped the stupid truffle pasta and contentedly left, Syrup in hand.  I soldiered on, though, suggesting to the clerk that maybe truffle oil would be a nice thing to carry and complimenting her on the lovely smell emanating her shop.

Having winded myself down some street I didn't know, I gave up on Plymouth's back alleys and headed for the city center again.  Forunately, not 4 doors up the street was another small international grocer, stop #6.  International was somewhere in the name, but the inside provided nothing but Asian characters plastered everywhere, about 10 Asians, and large adverts for international calling cards - the only thing I could read. 

Defeated, I exited and headed for the big chain grocer - Sainsbury's.  It's not as high end as M&S, but is significantly larger so I thought to hell with it, might as well give it a go.  And so I was at stop #6.  I won't even bore you with details, they clearly didn't have truffle anything and, once again, I was met with blank stares when asking for the orzo.  I must be crazy.  I grabbed a bag of tiny conchigliette pasta and ditched any further food related efforts for the mall.

After regaining strength in the world of retail I headed home to attempt the above recipe without the truffle or the orzo.  Here's what I got:

Hahaha.  That's what it took to get through the recipe after a 4 hour effort in the name of truffles (and maybe a cute pair of shoes).  This is what it REALLY looked like:

It was basically just home-made mac'n'cheese with asparagus.  No truffle, no orzo, but damn good.  What can I say, I'm a mac'n'cheese girl at heart.  It made breakfast the next morning too...

Full recipe is here.