Recent Eats: Coffee Shop and Bakery Favorites

If you asked me where I work, I’ll say I work form home. Really, though, I work more from coffee shops in and around the Twin Cities than I do in my own home… or, my “office” - the desk I’ve had since I was a teenager in my bedroom at my parents’ house in the eastern suburbs of Minnesota. 23 (and a half!), restless, curious, and hungry, I can’t stay seated in my office for more than two hours at a time, and how productive would I be if I let myself go for walks around the neighborhood four times a day?

So, I coffee-shop-hop. Each week, I seek out two or three coffee shops I want to visit - some new to me, and others familiar favorites. I pack up my work things and block out the entire afternoon for coffee and a pastry. I mean work! I’m working, I promise… with bottomless coffee and something a little sweet (occasionally savory) and treat-y. Here are my favorites, so far.

When I said “occasionally savory”, I was talking about this croque monsieur bun from Mon Petit Cherie in Stillwater. I think I like it a little more because I don’t need to drive far to get my hands on it. This delicate bundle of ham, cheese, and tender, buttery dough called to me, and I couldn’t ignore it, though I did also have my eyes on the giant slices of peanut butter chocolate cake (!!). I pulled apart the dough, swirled snuggly around a center of warm, melty cheese and more tender, buttery dough. Sweet or savory, the inside of any bun is the best part - that’s a known fact. What is up for serious debate now is which has a bigger piece of my heart (also my stomach): a sweet cinnamon roll or this croque monsieur bun…

The latter is currently in the lead.

And while I’m talking about Mon Petit Cherie, I must shine the spotlight on their chai latte - make it dirty for me, please. I’m not snobby about my coffee drinks, but I will ask if the chai flavor comes from a syrup or actual tea. And if it’s syrup, is it house-made? Also, how sweet is it? Just curious. Okay so maybe I am a little snobby, but the source of the chai flavor makes a big difference! MPC makes their syrup in house, and it’s sweetened only with a touch of sweetened condensed milk, mostly for creaminess. This is the drink to order when you need a hug, but not from a human. When you just want something warm, sweet, and espresso-spiked.

When I do make the drive into the Twin Cities, my two closest friends always offer me their couch for the night. Nicole, who lives in St. Paul, has a surprisingly cozy and comfortable couch and a sweet pup who wakes me each morning with a few kisses (read: aggressive licks on my cheek). Just down the street is PJ Murphy’s Bakery on the corner of Randolph Ave and Syndicate St. It’s the kind of place you can show up to on a Saturday morning in your pj’s, glasses, and still-kinda-tired-yawns and be greeted with welcoming smiles behind the glass case of every croissant, donut, muffin, danish, and coffee cake you could dream of.

I spotted this raspberry cream cheese croissant-danish (yes, it’s a thing) tucked between others, similar to but not one of its kind. This beauty is one-in-a-million. If Julie Andrews were a pastry (in my opinion), she’d be this. Enough said.

One of the first coffee shops in St. Paul, Bread & Chocolate, secured its spot on Grand Avenue almost 30 years ago now, long before the coffee-shop-hopping, aesthetic-latte-loving millennials of my time came on the scene. Minnesotans of all ages love this place - you’ll see young college students with textbooks piled high on their tables sitting next to older folks with sharing newspapers, stories from their college years, and bottomless cups of coffee. A cross between your favorite family-owned neighborhood coffee shop and the new, “hip” spot on the main street, Bread and Chocolate greets all of its guests with consistently high-quality coffee (and free refills), made-with-love sweet treats, and an unmistakeable warm sense of community on a historic, bustling St. Paul street.

When you go, you’ll likely feel overwhelmed in the best way possible when scanning the case of baked goods. Start here - with the classic chocolate chip cookie. I promise you, it’s simple and subtle, but without a doubt, perfect.

And when you’ve got plans with a group later (or not, and you’re just craving sweets - it’s fine), pick up a handful of treats and take them to go. If the chocolate chip cookie takes first priority, the brownie comes next, with a precise and difficult to achieve fudgey, rich and light, cakey texture. The oatmeal raisin cookie, well, get it if you know someone who needs it. It’s good, but it’s not my favorite when surrounded by the rest of these. The cute heart cut-out cookie sandwich was the best shortbread cookie I’ve ever tasted. Reminiscent of the Knott’s Berry Farm thumbprint cookies, this one surpassed the classic upon first bite.

When I’m in Minneapolis for the day, I can’t not take a walk around Lake Calhoun or Lake of the Isles, but before I do that, I must be productive. And to boost my productivity, I must have a steaming hot cup of caffeine and something sweet with me. Coffee shops in Minneapolis aren’t cheap - and this “Chai-der” latte from Five Watt Coffee is no exception. Whatever the price tag, though, the coffee is fantastic every time and the baristas are some of the most friendly of their kind. I’ll warn you - it can get a little loud here so if you absolutely must work in peace, this might not be the best coffee shop for you. If, however, you need some umph in your creativity and you want to work around cool people, definitely check out one of Five Watt’s four locations.

Oh yeah - I forgot to mention! If you wait until 4 PM at Five Watt, you can snag two baked goodies for just $2! Usually, though, I don’t have the patience, and I want something sweet with my coffee, and I can’t drink coffee at 4 PM. So, I pay full price and I’m reminded it’s all worth it when I bite into a giant bittersweet cookie like this with three different types of chocolate!

One time, I was almost patient enough to wait until 4 PM for the $4 special. Almost! Oh well. I snagged this gluten-free brownie and a seasonal scone and planned on taking half of each home with me to share with Mom and Dad, and savoring the other half of each myself with my coffee - decaf coffee because it was 3:55 PM on a Tuesday. In contrast to the brownie from Bread and Chocolate mentioned above, this one was soft and pillowy, distinctly milk chocolate, and studded with tiny chunks of chocolate throughout. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting from a gluten-free brownie, and I loved every bite. None of this brownie made it out of the coffee shop, but I did manage to save the scone for Mom and Dad and they said it was delicious, so there’s that on that.

Driving along Hennepin Avenue in Uptown Minneapolis stresses me out, so I’m thankful for Spyhouse Coffee on the northern end (just one of the brand’s many locations throughout the cities), where I can pull off onto a side street, always find parking, and settle in at this cozy brownstone space. Again, you need to just swallow the larger-than-normal price tag of the drinks because they are worth it. Many of the drinks rotate seasonally, and the baristas are magnificently creative with their flavor combinations. Pictured above is the “Solid Gold” - a play on the turmeric latte, or golden milk latte, made with oat milk and espresso, and only lightly sweetened. I’ll be back begging for this drink to stay on the menu, as soon as I get my next paycheck.

In just 6 short weeks, I made 6 trips to Isles Bun and Coffee in Uptown Minneapolis. If that doesn’t tell you how good it is, I don’t know what would. Read more here about why I adore this place and their giant buns laced with sugar, cinnamon, and butter, and slathered with cream cheese frosting. Also, this is the exception to the expensive coffee trend in Minneapolis. You can pick up a cup of drip for just about $2, or a latte or cappuccino for less than $4 alongside your big sweet bun.

Who needs cake on your birthday when you can get a bacon apple fritter, known as the “Pinup Girl + Bacon” at Glam Doll Donuts, and bottomless coffee? Lucky for him, Dad got all three this year with his favorite (and only) daughter. Women-owned Glam Doll Donuts in Northeast Minneapolis (also on Eat Street) brings back memories of my donut-shop days in college. It’s exactly what a donut shop should be - bright and vibrant, whimsical and upbeat, and most importantly, welcoming. Glam Doll nailed it. Oh, and the donuts! Those are fantastic. I went for the jelly-filled “Femme Fatale” donut and couldn’t put it down - it was messy, so that’s one reason, and it was just too good to stop, so that’s another reason. Dad tends to be less vocal about his food, even when he loves it. Before I even took a bite of my donut, I peeked over my laptop and all I saw were crumbs on his plate. Next time we go, I’m sure he’ll get the same thing. I’ll branch out and try something new - Glam Doll offers too many fun donuts too settle on just one. Stay tuned for the next donut adventure!

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Hey, thanks for reading. I hope I’ve stimulated your sweet tooth and coffee cravings! Now its your turn - if you’ve been to the Twin Cities, or if you live here, I’d love your recommendations for coffee shops and bakeries. My list is always growing! Leave your suggestions in the comments below.

See you next time!

Thoughts: Bathroom Mirror Pep-Talks, Books, Podcasts, and Adjustments

From the books I can’t put down and the podcasts I can’t get enough of, to the number one way I pull myself out of a funk and an important reminder in the wake of many changes, these are the things I’m thinking about these days.

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Bathroom Mirror Pep-Talks 

I look at this as a way of adulting. When it’s been one of those days and you need an encouraging pick-me-up - and even coffee, cinnamon rolls, your favorite belt-it-out-in-the-car-song, funny YouTube videos and memes won’t do the trick - try a bathroom mirror pep-talk. I’ve had a few of those lately, and I’ve needed to escape the crowd of people around me to gather my emotions before they let burst like a ruptured artery. 

I made dinner reservations at - Young Joni - the top place on my Minnesota Eats and Drinks list a month in advance because it’s that hot of a spot, and I’d been counting down the days. Finally, the day arrived, and as my parents and I drove over, I sat in the backseat feeling a thick cloud of smoke wrap around me, infecting my sunny excitement and joy with gloomy discouragement and sorrow. Suddenly my mind felt heavier than I could lift. The lump in my throat felt like a baseball. My heart felt… slow. 

I didn’t know how to escape this besides escaping my surroundings, so I excused myself to the restroom, gripped the sink, and looked myself in the eyes. They swelled with tears and I didn’t try to stop them. I let them roll down my cheeks, just feeling them. Letting myself feel. Soon enough, they slowed to a stop and I gathered myself, finding and embracing the strength and encouragement scattered throughout my heart. “Life is bigger than this moment. You are stronger than you think. And this will make sense soon.” 

Took a deep breath. Wiped the tears. And walked out a little stronger, content that I finally found the strength I needed within in a moment when I felt weakest. 

Books

“Yeah, I guess I like to read,” as I shuffle through three books on my nightstand: Good Habits, Bad Habits; Crazy Rich Asians; and Will Write For Food. Yes, I do like to read. I love it. For the sake of balance, creativity, and fun, I like to have multiple genres on hand at the same time. 

Good Habits, Bad Habits is my educational book, satisfying my nerdy needs. I’m not in school anymore, and that void needs to be filled somehow. Ideally, I’d get my hands on a nutrition book, but those are tough to find amongst all the diet and weight loss books stacked on bookshelves. If you know of any, leave your recommendations in the comments! Much appreciated. 

Crazy Rich Asians is my second favorite movie (The Princess Diaries has my heart) in writing. I didn’t think I’d like reading the book of a movie I’ve already seen, but I actually enjoy picturing the characters, scenery, and interactions. This is the book I pull out from the middle of the stack when I’m cozying up in bed and need something to help me unwind, slow the wheels in my brain, and ease me into sleep. In the same way I admire Anne Hathaway’s genuine sophistication, confidence, and drive, I admire Rachel Chu’s determination, fearlessness, and intelligence. 

Will Write for Food feels like I’m actually still working when I’d rather be relaxing, when I’ve already closed my computer and ripped up my to-do list from the day - that’s why it’s taking me the longest to get through this one. Even though it’s educational, applicable to my field of work, and interesting, I still need some convincing to open this one up. If you’re a food writer, I’d definitely recommend adding this to your library! 

Podcasts 

I spend more time in my car these days than I ever have - driving into work, to a friend’s house, and even to the grocery store and gym gives me at least 15 minutes in the car. The productivity-driven self-employed to-do-list lover I am always asks how I can use that time to my advantage. As much as I adore cute, mushy-gushy love songs that let me slip away into day-dreams of the “perfect” relationship for a couple minutes, to me, that dreamland isn’t the place where I want to spend most of my time. And now that I’m not in school, I’m craving little snippets of education like a couple bites of something sweet after dinner every night. 

On days when I don’t drive anywhere, I still need to leave the house. Like, I need to. So, I lace up my shoes, slip on my gloves, and plug in my headphones and hope that my fingers won’t freeze over the course of the next hour while I walk, listen, and think.

Thank goodness for podcasts. Many podcasts. More than I can manage, at times, actually. Among my favorites: Bon Appetit and The Splendid Table, for foodies; TED Talks Daily, NPR News Now, Up First, and Hidden Brain, for nerds and news junkies; Nutrition Matters, Nourishing Women, The Chasing Joy Podcast, and Food Psych, for the intuitive eaters and wellness geeks; Get Real with Caroline Hobby, Ellen on the Go, and Oprah’s SuperSoul Conversations, for the casual but still-worth-your-time conversationalists; aaaaand Ask Iliza Anything, for the I-just-need-to-laugh moments. It’s a diverse list that keeps me interested, educated, and curious. 

What are your favorite podcasts? Just in case my list isn’t long enough… 

Adjustments

Naturally, I create timelines in my mind. By this time, I should be _____. Fill in the blank: in a relationship, working full-time in my ideal job, signing the lease on my new apartment, feeling completely comfortable in my new home, and the list goes on. It’s a good thing I don’t fill my calendar with these expectations because that thing would be an absolute mess of scribbles and X’s and arrows. In a subconscious attempt to push myself through discomfort, I inadvertently set deadlines for these things over which I don’t have full control. All I’m doing is setting unrealistic expectations, goals I’m not sure I can reach, and letting myself down when I can’t fulfill them for whatever reason. 

When I moved here in October, I thought that by March - the end of winter and beginning of spring (fingers crossed) - I’d fully acclimated to the weather, the cities, the suburbs, a new job, a new set of friends, etc. What exactly gave me the idea that March would be this magical point in time, I’m not sure. And here I am, still adjusting. I’m still reminding myself to never leave my gloves and tennis shoes in the car overnight because they’ll lose their purpose of warmth the next day. I’m still learning how to drive in the snow, when lanes disappear and snowflakes cover the windshield. I’m still searching for a (new) job, a big-girl job with full-time hours, benefits, and responsibilities that match my qualifications. I’m still adjusting to living at home under my parents’ roof in a town with few young adults looking to socialize. 

I’m still adjusting and I’m still learning that it’s o k a y if I’m not where I thought I should be by now. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

LET’S CONNECT!

Thanks for reading! Tell me: what podcasts and books are you loving right now? In what ways are you building up your confidence and resilience? And, if you’re in the midst or aftermath of changes, how are you adjusting to them?

Little Things

Gratitude is a practice, not just a feeling. It’s a decision, one we can make everyday to show our appreciation and embrace the joy of contentment. It’s a decision I try to make every morning to begin my day on a positive note. Listing even just two or three things can help me focus on what I have, rather than what I’m wishing for. And after a long season of loss, that shift of focus makes all the difference. So, here are a few of the little things I’ve felt incredible gratitude for lately.

Dog cuddles. DOG. CUDDLES. It’s scientifically proven that cuddling can help reduce stress levels, and dogs are better than boys (most humans in general, actually) 99% of the time, so… there’s that. Since we lost Maggie a few months ago, I’ve been cherishing every moment - every pet, every lick, every tail wag - with other pups because they are just so precious. Fortunately, my friend Nicole always lets me cuddle her pup, Maya, when we’re together. Grieving the loss of a pet is a whole new ball game for my family, and we are not trying to rush the process. However, I’m not not saying there won’t ever be another pup in the family.

I have friends! I really do, and they’re wonderful. People always ask how we met, given that I didn’t know anyone when I moved here. Who’da thunk Hungry Haley would allow me to meet actual friends?! I’m thankful with every ounce of my being for these two goofy girls who have helped make Minnesota feel like home. Just before Christmas, we got together to make dozens - yes, dozens - of Christmas cookies. Why dozens? Because we can’t plan well and because Nicole (who is on the left, and Kathryn on the right) really likes cookies, apparently.

Okay, here’s an absolute favorite that, hopefully, Dad won’t grumble about. How cute, right?! Also, yes, I’m 23 and still sleep with a teddy bear - just the brown one because the other two squeak when squozen (past tense of squeeze?) and that just won’t do in the middle of the night. This is one of those warm-and-fuzzy moments when I can’t help but think how grateful I am to be home with my parents and best friends right now. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for letting me come crash the party and take over the kitchen!

Scenes like this make me an extra enthusiastic morning person - that bright and twinkly tree, warm cup of coffee (in a classic Christmas mug from Grandma, of course), and a white blanket of snow outside are a recipe for pure joy in my book. There really isn’t much more to say about it, actually. This picture is worth a thousand words to me!

Quite literally, this isn’t really a “little thing”. Those trees are huge! Just the hour or so spent walking and talking on a cold winter morning with family I only see a few times a year - that’s the little thing I’m talking about. This is a trail in Stillwater just a couple miles from my parents’ house and I definitely plan to return more often this winter when I learn to cross country ski, and this spring and summer when the weather is nice enough to hike around. Grateful for the beauty and peace in nature.

Now this is most definitely representative of a little thing - the few minutes I have at work before preparation for a class or event when I can just take a deep breath to appreciate 1) having a job, 2) having a job I love, and 3) having a job that teaches me something new every single day. And, of course, can we take a second to admire this kitchen? It’s a dream not only for the chef, but also for the host! I can’t say I love every moment I spend in this place because some moments can be pull-my-hair-out or cry-in-the-closet-real-quick stressful, but I can say that, at the end of day, I close these doors with a grateful heart for my coworkers, our students, and this company as a whole.

First thing’s first - that puffiness in my chest is my scarf, not… well, you know. Still as flat as a ten-year-old boy and I’m okay with that! Anyway. I mentioned Nicole earlier, so here’s Kathryn! She moved out to snowy MN from sunny CA just about a month before I did for a job with a start-up medical device company in Minneapolis. What a brave girl! I knew we’d be good friends immediately, and now look at us, taking long walks in the snow and not freezing! I’m so thankful for Kathryn’s energy, positivity, and drive for adventure. I know that whenever I’m ready to get out of the house or take a break from work and explore this awesome state, I can call Kathryn and she’ll be ready to hop in the car wherever we’re off to. Let’s just hope I can convince her to stay here rather than fly back home to Cali!

My mom is the most thoughtful and selfless person I’ve ever met, and her passion and business, Dot Plaid, represents those qualities perfectly. Essentially, she spends her time using her artistic talent to remind her loved ones how special they are through these handmade cards. During one of the rare occasions in which I took a nap, Mom made this little cutout and placed it on my nightstand while I slept so that when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Mom’s tear-jerking and heart-warming love for me. She is constantly telling me how glad she is that I’m home with her and Dad. I’m so thankful for this woman.

Now it’s your turn. You can tell me below in the comments section, you can share it with a loved one (or a stranger, I guess), or you can keep it to yourself in your head or your journal or wherever you want it. Just make a thoughtful list of the things - big or little or both - you feel grateful for. Make these lists a habit to train your brain to see the good in every day. I can promise you this simple act will make a big difference. Thanks for reading!

Thoughts on Loss (and 2019)

It’s around this time of year that we tend to reflect on the previous 11-12 months, and I am one who loves to reflect. This year, however, the reflection I’m looking at is difficult to take in. 2019, age 23, and my first year out of college (technically 3/4 of a year, but whatever) was far from easy. In fact, I remember just before 2019 began - around this time exactly one year ago - feeling this sort of queasy uneasiness about the coming year. Like when you can feel a cold coming on, but much worse - like a cold that will last 12 times longer than usual with symptoms more intense than ever.

2019, age 23, and my first year out of college was a year of loss - losing friends, losing family, losing what I had known as normal for 18 years, losing my faith, and with that, most of myself.

Before I walked through the door of 2019, I dropped my faith somewhere along the sidewalk leading up to it. With too much in my hands and not a tight enough grip, my faith slipped right through my fingers. My first few steps in the door were shaky and unstable already. Without my foundation of faith beneath me, I relied on external forces for stability and affirmation, creating this vicious cycle of feeling insecure and weak —> trusting unfulfilling sources for confidence and strength —> lacking fulfillment —> feeling insecure and weak again. I relied on work, school, and relationships to hold me up at my weakest point in time, and as you may guess, I fell hard and I fell hard quite frequently.

Nonetheless, I’d pick myself up each time and stand up again on my shaky foundation.

By April, one third of my foundation had disintegrated when I took my last ever college final. For a while, feelings of excitement and accomplishment overpowered feelings of uncertainty about what’s next, with which most recent college grads will probably agree (right, guys?). I strengthened the foundation with a “big-girl” job as the manager of a local café in San Luis Obispo. This place practically screamed my name and I loved running after that call every day. Finally, little bits and pieces of confidence, strength, and stability returned. I may have lost the routine of school and the blessing of having my best friends as roommates, but at least now I had a job I felt passionate about and skilled at.

In May, my family received the news that my grandpa had been diagnosed with stage 4 bone cancer. Excuse my French, but all I can remember thinking was “f*ck.” 2,500 miles away and not planning to move back to Minnesota, I had no idea how I’d do this, how I’d support my family in this trial and how I’d continue to live so far after the result we all had to face - my grandpa’s passing. Our lives were forever changed on June 26th, 2019, when God called Grandpa Home. Peace followed after a time of extreme stress, anxiety, and pain, but so did grief. And we’re still there, wading through those muddy waters. Losing my grandpa was the first loss of a family member I’d been mature enough to comprehend. And it hurt like hell.

A couple months passed and again, I felt confidence, strength, and some stability return. Again, however, the foundation was unreliable. Major cracks and holes appeared in my relationship with my boyfriend at the time and I thought that with some difficult conversations and perseverance, we could patch them up. We could fill the holes and move forward in our relationship, in our plan for the future, but all of that crumbled to pieces right before my eyes and I was completely shocked. It took my breath away and for the first time in my entire life, I experienced anxiety attacks. Looking for something familiar and comforting to grab a hold of, I drove to my favorite beach sunset spot and as I looked out at the water, at the waves crashing on the shore and rolling back out to sea, I felt my throat tighten, heartbeat race, mind lose control. To feel such overpowering fear in my most comforting place, it was the worst.

All I could think about in the days following was how out of place I felt - so far away from my best friends and my grieving family as I grieved on my own there in the place I was too stubborn and too in love with to leave. Maybe I needed to leave, though. Maybe I needed to pack up and move to Paris and eat croissants and drink French wine all day everyday. No. Maybe I needed to move to New York and bustle my way through the city and work my buns off for my dream job. No. Maybe I just needed to move… home. Minnesota. Where family is. Where I can focus on them and me and just be okay again. So I did and here I am. I made the best decision of my life, and the hardest at the same time.

Okay, one more thing.

Maggie, our pup’s 16th birthday was around the corner when I arrived. Speaking of corners, she could barely see them and she could barely hear us call her name. We knew, as we did with my grandpa, that her time was approaching, but we shoved those thoughts out of our minds and pulled her closer instead. Less than three weeks later, Mom, Dad, and I became her care-takers after what we think was a stroke - she just wasn’t the Maggie we knew anymore. As a family, we decided it was time we put her down. Anyone who has ever had to put their beloved little pup down knows that it’s damn near impossible. We couldn’t remember or imagine life in our house without her, but we had to figure it out, and we’re still doing that.

Now that I’ve just dumped a heavy load of sadness on you…

Let me share with you some of the things I’ve learned. I’ll just flip back through 286 journal pages and… oh, here they are:

Faith. I have nothing in this life if I don’t have my faith. I still have many questions, but I know that they are part of maintaining this strong relationship with God and continuing to grow stronger. I needed to almost lose my faith, to watch it start slipping through my fingers and to try to walk along without it, to learn how to tighten my grip simply because I need to. Because trying to lead myself through days and weeks and months, the easy and the tough, becomes exhausting and confusing. Because I trust that God wants better and has better planned for me, and that I all I need to do is allow Him to do so. Because I can’t think of any better way to show my love for a God who has done so much for me than to love and trust Him.

Friends and family. I can group these two together because I’m blessed to have family I’m so close with they feel like friends, and friends I’m so close with they feel like family. The hard-to-swallow truth is that losing friends and family isn’t going to stop anytime soon. With life and age, family members pass. With separation and jobs and spouses and whatnot, friends become distant. Relationships change, no matter how much we try to maintain them as they are in any moment. What we can find comfort in are tight-knit friendships and relationships - even though these inevitably due to various factors, true friends and family will (as cheesy as it may sound) stick together through the worst of times.

Moving and settling. My heart was in two places when I left California - right there on the beach in my college town and right here in snowy Minnesota where my family is. A torn heart only begins to describe the feeling in my chest when Dad and I drove away for the last time. I’ve settled in here in Minnesota and I really truly honestly am whole-heartedly happy here now. With only a few friends (besides Mom and Dad - my best friends) around, I’ve spent plenty of time alone, in my own head, listening to my own thoughts and my own heart. That, most of the time, is what I do best and how I feel my best. I couldn’t be more of an introvert at heart, and I’m incredibly thankful that moving here has given me an opportunity to tune back into that part of myself.

So, now what? Now, I know that with God I can handle quite a load. I know that more change will come - more gains and more losses - so I’d better buckle up now and get ready. Most importantly, I understand the value of taking in each moment with gratitude, finding peace in every situation, and holding on tightly to what I cherish most.

If you’re feeling the weight of loss, know that it won’t be this heavy forever. Find rest and comfort in giving this weight to Christ, who has already accepted the load when he was crucified for us. Wake up each day and remind yourself to focus on the have’s, not the have-not’s - you’ll come to realize that the former will far outweigh the latter. What can you be grateful for today? What can you look forward to today? Who can you lean on and uplift? Prioritizing these will help bring more positivity into each day, shifting the focus from what you don’t have to what you are blessed with and what you have to give to others.

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9

Recent Eats: Hard Kombucha, Grandma’s Lasagna, Homemade Bread, (a last-minute) Thanksgiving, and more

Did you read that? Like really read that? I found hard kombucha in the Land of 10,000 Lakes! I also found the best dirty chai latte and it’s from a coffee shop only 3 miles away from home, and Mom, Dad and I made Grandma’s scrum-diddly-umptious lasagna recipe using a special ingredient. But did I mention I found hard kombucha, too? Anyway, on with the eats.

Here she is. Isn’t she beautiful? After calling a few liquor stores near my house in Stillwater asking, “Hi, do you guys carry hard kombucha? Also known as kombucha beer?” only to get a confused response, something along the lines of, “Umm, let me transfer you to the produce department…” I felt a little discouraged. Believe it or not, Dad actually found this at a liquor store in Minneapolis. For those of you who live here and are now curious, you can find them at Surdyk’s in North Loop. I went with him to his office in the city one day and on our way home, he suggested we stop here because, of all liquor places around here, Surdyk’s would be the one to carry hard kombucha. He was right! Shamelessly, I grabbed about 3 4-packs. Girl’s gotta’ do what a girl’s gotta’ do.

We in the Hansen House are morning people. We like watching the sunrise, drinking multiple pots of coffee, and whipping up a big ol’ breakfast all while enjoying each other’s company (which can’t be said in a less cheesy but still truthful way, so I apologize for the cheesiness). Dad makes the bacon and I make something brunch-y, and that something brunch-y is usually pancakes because pancakes are just so darn easy and tasty. I chose this recipe from Blue Bowl and the family loved it!

“Come meet me in downtown St. Paul for a bite to eat and a drink after work!” I texted my parents after my first week at my new job. I felt cool and successful to finally have a job that I love, and I felt so at home to be able to meet up with my parents for dinner without needing to buy a plane ticket six months in advance. We met at Red Rabbit on Grand Ave. in St. Paul and, per the bartenders’ recommendations, I ordered the spicy sausage pizza and a side of roasted broccolini. If this is isn’t the exact image of my ideal dinner (glass of buttery, oaky Chardonnay not pictured), I don’t know what is.

The. Best. Chai. Latte. Make it dirty, please. I like to be that person who asks where the chai flavor comes from, if it’s made in-house, and if the latte can be made without any additional sweetener. There’s nothing worse than a chai latte that tastes only of sugar and cinnamon! I’m not wrong. Mon Petit Cheri in downtown Stillwater makes the perfect chai with a house-made chai syrup using condensed milk and local chai tea, plus a shot of espresso if you’re like me. I look forward to a little me-time with this chai latte and my journal.

You should recognize this face if you know anything about my life. Grace, my best friend, came to visit during the first week of November which also happened to be the coldest week of this winter thus far - perfect timing for the California girl. Nonetheless, as we always do, we made the most of it. We bundled up when we needed to and braved the almost-negative temperatures to find good food and fun happy hours. For the last happy hour of her trip, we took a couple spots at the Matchstick bar in downtown Stillwater and sipped some of my favorite buttery, oaky Chardonnay. Mmmm.

My dad’s mom, my grandma, created this stupidly good lasagna recipe many, many years ago. In fact, it’s probably older than I am, and it’s a significant component of my fondest childhood holiday memories. For as long as I’ve been in the kitchen, I’ve never taken part in the making of this family favorite dish. Dad’s craving for it triggered the same in me, and at just the right time, Banza sent me a sample of their new lasagna noodles. Clearly, it was time for me to get my hands deliciously dirty - lasagna-style. We tweaked a couple things in Grandma’s recipe: chickpea noodles instead of the usual wheat noodles (which turned out wonderful, might I add) and bleu cheese mixed into the ricotta. Of course, we always find room for improvement, so we will definitely be making this again and tweaking even further. The Banza lasagna noodles will definitely be in the next batch!

Just looking at these pictures gets me all jazzed up, and not just because this pizza had bleu cheese and sausage, though that’s definitely a significant contribution to the excitement. Mom, Dad, Mom’s friend, and I picked Giulia in downtown Minneapolis for dinner a couple weeks ago, and after a couple sips of our wine, we ordered the Mozzarella A Mano (I don’t know what that means other than a mozzarella dish), Speziato, One of the chefs rolled a cart with a couple bowls and simple ingredients up next to our table and began what I can only describe as a mini cooking class on how to make mozzarella. He pulled and shaped the milk curds and chatted with us all the while. Before we knew it, a beautiful plate of creamy, fresh mozzarella and an olive tapenade sat in the center of our table just begging for our consumption. We wasted no time digging in. Amazing! For dinner, I chose the Black Apple pizza, topped with sweet sausage, gorgonzola, fennel pollen, arugula, and an apple jam-y type thing. Again, amazing.

That right there is a loaf of homemade whole-wheat sandwich bread, and the official statement that I will probably never (read: maybe once, but that’s it) buy another loaf of the store-bought stuff. I’m still playing around with the recipe I used, which I got from work, and contains a mix of white and whole-wheat flour + beer + honey + butter + active dry yeast. As soon as it’s all ready to go, I’ll post it on the blog - it’s too simple and too darn tasty to keep all to myself!

We had a rough week here at the Hansen House, and we considered just skipping the whole Thanksgiving thing (the food, not the gratitude) this year. Thankfully - pun kind of intended - we pulled ourselves together on Wednesday night and came up with our best attempt at a plan for the big meal. Included in the plan was: cornbread sausage stuffing, balsamic roasted brussels sprouts with bacon, salad, homemade cranberry sauce, plus a turkey and a ham. I’m pretty proud of not only this meal, but of us as a family for picking up our broken pieces and making the best of a day of thankfulness we so desperately needed.

There ya’ have it for November’s eats! Come back in a month to see what else I’m cooking, baking, and eating - I’ve got plenty to share.

My Own Best Friend (& One Month in Minnesota!)

We had this running joke in my family that made its most frequent appearances on long car rides and road trips when I was a kid - that I am my own best friend. Back when CDs were a thing, my parents could look in the rearview mirror to see me jammin’ out with my headset on to whatever was the latest Disney soundtrack release. If I wasn’t listening to music, I was trying to crack jokes with everyone else in the car and make them laugh, only to end up making only myself laugh (which in turn made the others laugh… and roll their eyes).

And so the joke was born, that I am my own best friend.

I recently moved to a city and state in which none of my best friends from the last 17 years of my life live, but that wasn’t my biggest concern in the moving process. That isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate and miss my best friends - I love you guys oh so dearly! - and they’ll understand this because they know me… because they’re my best friends. I just don’t need someone with me all the time. I can talk with myself (quietly enough so that no one around me hears, of course), I can spend endless time in my own thoughts, and today I discovered that I can even giggle and smile ear to ear at beauty, in excitement, and with so much joy with no one around me.

This realization sunk in and with it an incredibly warm (it was 40 degrees outside, too) blanket of comfort with the words “You will be okay” knit across the top over my heart and my gut, the two organs that felt such immense sadness and stress in recent months.

My first week here… it wasn’t as smooth and peaceful as I expected. While I soaked up every early morning curled up on the couch with my book, blanket, and cup of coffee, I also wrestled with feelings of loneliness and uselessness (hello, unemployment). Unlike my usual open-book self, I didn’t want anyone to catch a glimpse of this at first because I thought my parents would think I wasn’t happy with my decision, wasn’t grateful for the free room in which I’m now living in a beautiful home, etc. No, no, it’s not that. I feel zero ounces of regret and several tons of gratitude, but I’ve gotta’ take the good with the not so good, as the saying goes. Dad peeked into my room six days after the arrival and found me crying on my bed barely able to translate my messy thoughts into sensible words. I found a few words just to let him into the tiny box I squeezed myself into where all these negative feelings live.

As I expected he’d say, and as I’d been telling myself, this is just part of the process. It’s nothing I can jump over or rush through, unfortunately, but it’s nothing I can’t figure out and it’s not forever - just a little adjustment.

So, I’ve been doing what I need to do to adjust and settle in: decorate my room, learn my way around town, apply for jobs, walk through the neighborhood and gaze at the stunning Fall colors, make my way through the list of restaurants, coffee shops, cafes, bars, and other must’s in the Twin Cities I constructed to build some excitement. Transitioning from a packed schedule to an almost completely empty one feels like the softest rug has just been pulled out from underneath me and now my feet are freezing because it’s friggin’ 35 degrees here in Minnesota. I am so, so, so not used to an open schedule and I am not really one to enjoy questioning what the heck I’m going to do with myself all day.

Today didn’t feel like a stay-at-home day. The sun made its way through the clouds by 8 AM and I knew that there are only a handful of these beautiful Fall days left. I pulled up Google Maps, which is now bookmarked on my desktop with how frequently I use it, and poked around the Twin Cities area to see what explorations would make for an enjoyable Wednesday, and I landed on St. Anthony Main. Technically speaking, I have been here before, so I wasn’t really exploring an area totally new to me, but whatever, you probably didn’t even need to know that.

The Stone Arch Bridge takes my breath away every single time I see it, and this time was no different. I felt my smile grow wider and brighter as I absorbed my surroundings - my home - because for the first time in… ever, the place I’m in really does feel like home and no feeling can ever compare to that peace. I even giggled a little bit (again, quietly enough so that no passersby would question me) just knowing that I am where I am supposed to be and I absolutely love it! I’m exploring on my own and even though I wouldn’t complain about having Mom or Dad or a best friend by my side exploring with me, I’m perfectly happy just living solo today.

Those moments of pure joy and peace today are the gifts from God I’ve waited for and so desperately needed. They were His way of reminding me that, yes, loved ones are an incredible blessing (especially mine), and so is the best friend I am to myself AND the Provider - and so much more - that He is to me.

From California to Minnesota

2,100 miles. 30 hours. 5 boxes shipped and seemingly endless packed - or should I say Tetris’d - into the car. And here I am in the land of Land O’ Lakes, General Mills, 10,000 lakes, and my entire family. Yes, I’m feeling a little chilly (already), but overall, I’m so dang happy to be here.

Dad flew out to California from Minnesota about a week ago to help me pack and Tetris-ify all my crap - I mean stuff! - into the tiny little Toyota Corolla I call “Chia” (like the chia seed, not the chia pet). I thought I would be asking him for tissues the entire time, but instead, we were both more nervous about how we’d fit everything into the car and therefore I couldn’t even think about crying yet. So that was nice. Once we did fit everything into shipping boxes and then into the remaining space in the car, we took a break for brunch at NoVo Restaurant & Lounge.

And then it was time for the goodbyes. I hate goodbyes! I really hate peas and the word “nipple” (I prefer “nip”, thank you), but I really really hate goodbyes. My stomach churned all week as I thought about how I’d say goodbye to the girls who have become my best friends in just two short months and to the wonderful town that has become home over the course of five amazing years. I delegated the 8-hour drive on Sunday to Dad because I knew I’d be too teary-eyed to navigate the road.

So… yeah. The goodbyes happened and they were terrible and there isn’t much else to say other than, “Hi friends, if you’re reading this, I miss you and love you like crrrraaaazy!”

Dad and I pulled into St. George, Utah at around 9 PM on Sunday night and dinner was the first discussion. With Denny’s and another similar diner with “bear” in the name being the only places around (besides the gas stations with their tempting hot dogs and nachos and other *gourmet* indulgences), I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I pulled out half a loaf of some banana bread I had made earlier in the week along with some RX Bar peanut butter and called it a night. Dad shuffled around the room trying to figure out his hunger level - he’s more of a meal kind of guy rather than snacky. He ripped a chunk off the loaf and, still chewing, kindly let me know that “it’s dry”. I knew it wasn’t my best loaf, but figured whatever, he will go eat a real meal. NOPE. He continues tearing pieces off my (dry) dinner, seeming to just brush off the fact that all he’s said about it so far is how not good it is. You’re welcome. I think?

The next morning, I grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakfast set-up for a pre-workout kick before I squeezed myself into the 4’x4’ space between the couch and the door for a quick 30 minutes of movement. If there’s one thing I need in the morning - especially before 8 hours of sitting on my peach - it’s a good, sweaty, full-body workout. It took a little rushing through the shower and the workout and the getting all my stuff back together, but we did make it out the door and on the road by 8 AM. Again, you’re welcome. I’m good. Reeeeal good.

I took the wheel for the first 3 hours through the gorgeous red rocks and hills of Utah, but my eyelids grew a little too heavy for me to be behind the wheel by about 11 AM, so that’s when we pulled off for lunch and decided to switch pilots. Okay, don’t laugh at me, but Subway sounded SO good for some odd reason, which I’m thinking has a lot to do with nostalgia way more than actual flavor of Subway itself. Dad laughed. I ate my Subway sandwich as he munched on some tacos from a sketchy-looking food truck down the dirt road.

And with that, we hopped back on the road. Drive. Drive. Drive. Keep driving. Finally, we hit Vail, Colorado right and it. was. gorgeous. Absolutely amazing. Yellow-leaved trees studded the hillsides amongst the dark green ones, and the river glistened in the golden hour as it flowed through just down below. We felt like kids in a candy store, “ooh”-ing and “ahh”-ing at the world around us.

Our Monday night stop was in Denver, CO where we met up with Connie for dinner and drinks. I kept telling Dad how excited I was for him to meet her because - those of you who know Connie will agree - she’s just one of the best people on this earth. And she’s one of the few people I’d really want to see after spending 8 hours trapped on my butt in the car. We picked Linger for drinks and dinner, and each bite made us more and more excited for the next. The food was amazing!

I thought Colorado and Connie was the end of the fun for the trip, as the drive through Nebraska and Iowa would be mainly flat fields of corn, corn, and more corn. I wasn’t wrong about the corn, but I was wrong about the duration of our fun - Dad and I know how to make a good time out of seemingly not much. Our final stop on Tuesday night was at a little hotel just outside of Omaha, Nebraska. In search of dinner, we hopped from restaurant to bar to restaurant in the downtown area in the pouring rain while I tried to hide the fact that I was wearing sandals. Hi, I’m from California.

The name of the restaurant we chose for dinner isn’t coming back to me, and it doesn’t really matter that much because it was nothing crazy special, but here’s dinner anyway.

And on Wednesday we were back on the road, one last time! One last 7-hour stretch before we finally arrive at our destination. Boy, was I ready to get out of the car. Our choice of entertainment for one part of this ride was a Hidden Brain podcast called “Creating God”, and I would highly recommend giving it a listen - preferably with someone who can discuss with you the questions and thoughts that will likely arise - if you have even the smallest interest in faith. My dad and I question just about everything, so we doubled the length of the podcast just by discussion alone.

Before we knew it, our stomachs growled and we pulled off the road to fill up the gas tank and our hungry tummies. No, we did not find a Subway, but instead found a better sandwich stop to satisfy the never-ending craving. Two hours later, I started to recognize my new home - the “Welcome to Minnesota” sign, downtown Stillwater, our cute little neighborhood lined with trees boasting their Fall-themed leaves. Home. I could feel it already.

Mom welcomed us inside with big hugs and a beaming smile, and I got right to unpacking so that I could stretch my cramping legs. I stepped into the bedroom my parents set aside for me that I’ve been impatiently waiting to make my own and couldn’t believe I was finally here. Finally in Minnesota. Just over a month ago, I cried on my bedroom floor in San Luis Obispo as the fear that I’d never leave that place and be close to my family (where I desperately needed to be). Anxiety took over - a new world to me - and tried to convince me that moving to Minnesota wouldn’t happen, but here I am, finally.

I’m at peace. I’m not quite settled yet - job-less and without a core group of friends - but I know in time I will be.

Nourish(ed)

Other than the actual moving day, this day - my last day as Manager of Nourish SLO - has felt the farthest away in this whole moving process. There were days when I looked forward to a short period of unemployment, of rest and reduced stress, and there were days when I dreaded the mere thought of closing the door for the very last time to the place that has boosted my confidence, refined my skills and revealed ones I didn’t know I had, and most of all, believed in me when I definitely did not believe in myself. 

Six months ago, I stood in the terribly uncomfortable decision-making spot of staying in California versus moving to Minnesota. I hated that place - that shaky middle ground. I hated not knowing what to do, how to best suit my own needs and still keep my family and friends as happy for me and with me as possible. To ease the stress and help move me in one direction or another, I searched for jobs in both places and came across the Manager position at Nourish SLO. My heart raced as I read the description - it was perfect for me. 

Within an hour of applying, I heard from the manager at the time and that she was interested in my application and wanted to bring me in for an interview. That was just the confidence boost I needed - knowing that my talent had been acknowledged and desired. After a period of low activity on the blog and recently finishing college, the post-grad blues and feelings of inadequacy had set in. About a week later, I walked into the interview filled to the brim with confidence and topped with just a dash of nerves, of course. 

I was ready to show them the best version of Haley I had in me. And from the minute I got the job until now, the day I say goodbye, I think I did just that. No, I was not perfect every single day, or every other day. Challenges arose - some, I nailed and others… well, others nailed me. Opportunities knocked and I took as many as I possibly could. I smiled and waved and welcomed guests in, making sure they felt comfortable and happy in that moment. If there’s nothing else I did right besides provide that hospitality, I’m okay with that.

People often asked what my roles were as the manager and I couldn’t ever reduce the list to fewer than five things. My hands were everywhere at all times. If you’d ever seen me working, you’d see me for about five seconds at a time, unless you intentionally grabbed my attention. I was rarely ever sitting or standing still, and if you could see into my brain in those moments, you might wonder how my exterior still managed to smile and remain calm and collected. By no means am I trying to brag here! New to the job with a fire under my butt, I was almost always trying to accomplish something. I couldn’t sit still!

Mainly, I managed the front of house employees and oversaw the daily operations of the cafe. In addition to that, I ran our coffee program, tracked sales and financials, and helped maintain the quality of current menu items as well as developed new seasonal dishes and daily specials. Thankfully, my job description didn’t really have many limits. If I wanted to be involved in something or start something new, all I had to do was ask and I found space to learn, contribute, and teach.

The cafe itself and the actual manager position were both new to me, but the restaurant business and the manager skills were not. I caught on quickly, let’s just say. Just two days of training went by and suddenly, I was in charge. At first I was terrified because the weight of the responsibilities felt far too heavy for the amount of strength I’d built in just two short days. Environments with food and friendly people are environments in which I thrive, and I needed to thrive in order to lead. I embraced it all. 

And I didn’t plan on leaving yet - I wanted to stay to help Nourish develop as an establishment within this wonderful community for at least another year. My mind overflowed with ideas and opportunities for the cafe, and many times I’d wake up in the middle of the night or early in the morning just thinking about those and how I couldn’t wait to be a part of them. So, it’s difficult to leave, to say the very least, but waves of change have come and this is how I roll with the tide. 

When I pictured the career path to opening my own cafe, I knew a management position like this was my next step along the way. Throughout my experience here, I questioned my dream frequently - do I want this? With the joy and community and delicious food comes stress and money and exhaustion, at times. Only now that I’ve stepped far enough back can I clearly see the full picture. YES, the restaurant industry can be highly stressful and an investment like the one I’d need to make is a risk, but I can’t imagine I’ll find the joy and fulfillment I feel here doing anything else. I just…

… I feel like I’m made for this. :)

Recent Eats: Summer Fruits, Work Lunches, SLO Favorites

Summer came and went just like that. Anybody else feel like the season slipped right through their fingers? I mean, I barely ate enough peaches! I only ate one s’more! I went to the beach twice, and I live just ten minutes away from the water. Come onnnnnn. Anyway, here’s a recap of the things I did enjoy over the last couple of months. Bon app!

Peaches and raspberries, both from the local farmers market. Every Saturday, I make my way around the market and try to buy something new to me, or at least from a farmer new to me. There is one exception to that rule, however - at the end of my market trail is a farmer who sells the most juicy, sweet, and perfectly plump and ripe stone fruits during the summer. We know each other at this point, and that makes me so very happy.

I’ve cut my coffee consumption in half because it was hurting my stomach and making my high stress levels these days only worse, but here’s a picture of a gorgeous and delicious dark chocolate mocha I made back when my coffee consumption was at an all-time high. Maybe someday when I feel like I can handle the extra caffeine I’ll create a recipe like this for the blog. I’ll also need an espresso machine… hmmm.

I’m into the whatever’s-in-the-fridge kind of dinners these days. Leftover sweet potato? Toss it in there. Kale? Massage it with some olive oil and toss him in there, too. Oooh! Finally! A nice avocado! The fried egg on top is self-explanatory. Duh. Then a sprinkle of nutritional yeast, a dash of hot sauce, and a drizzle of tahini to finish things off. This is becoming an ideal dinner!

Banana bread - a classic breakfast-y baked good, especially in my world. If there isn’t a loaf of banana bread already made or one in the making, I must be sick or something. And now I have this brown butter banana bread recipe and I’m wondering how I ever lived without it?? I highly - very highly - recommend the cream cheese frosting, and if you’re out of the juicy summer peaches the recipe calls for, don’t fret. You can certainly swap those for some homemade raspberry chia seed jam (recipe here) and let yourself fall in love with the combination of brown butter banana bread + cream cheese frosting (a healthy one!) + raspberry jam (again, a healthy one!).

One of the biggest perks of my job - other than meeting and connecting with tons of cool healthy foodies all day - is that lunch is provided for me every single day and I can choose from anything off our menu at Nourish. Before I actually started working, I was all prepared to pack a lunch everyday just as I did when I was in school, but this is so. much. better. Pictured above is our eggplant caponata grilled cheese (one of my top 3 favorite items on our menu) and a classic caesar salad.

Given that I don’t need to think twice about lunch five days a week, you might assume that I’d be all jazzed up for dinner - creativity wheels spinning away with ideas for what to make. NOPE. I usually come home with an exhausted brain after a day full of human interaction and recipe development, so lately, I’m keeping dinners simple. Seared broccoli and Banza mac n’ cheese is easy, comforting, and ever so satisfying.

Of all the delicious restaurants in SLO, Taste is one that stands out from the rest. It caters to those of us who want one of everything on the menu - pick 2-4 items for a taste of whatever is catching your eye. You’ll pick from the long list of sliders, mac n’ cheese, brussels sprouts, and salads. Just make sure to give yourself enough time to actually choose because it can be difficult. While you’re making your decision, munch on some of their sweet potato fries because they’re really dang good. I also recommend the salmon sliders and the lamb slider!

Did I mention how much I love my weekday lunch situation? No? Oh, well ITS AWESOME. I consider it a blessing. While I love love lovvvve our sandwiches at Nourish, sometimes I just need a plate of veggies and meat. This is our Italian roasted cauliflower salad with arugula, slivered almonds, dried cranberries, and an apple cider vinaigrette, and our fresh corn salad with cucumber, cherry tomato, basil, and a lemon vinaigrette alongside our roasted tamarind glazed turkey. I felt like both salads needed some feta, so I added the feta. Boom. Lunch is served.

I like my lunches and dinners to be exciting and adventurous these days, but I stick to this for breakfast most of the time. Some 5% Greek yogurt, homemade raspberry jam (same recipe as above), and sliced banana. The sweet and slightly tart jam combined with the silky, tangy, rich yogurt is just sooOoOOoo good. Later on in the morning, usually around the time I get to work, I need a little something starchy to nibble on so I bring one of these dark chocolate chunk zucchini muffins or some banana bread or something to hold me over until lunch. Ask my why I love mornings so much and the food is one big part of that!

Okay I lied a little bit. Of course, there are some mornings when I just want peanut butter toast and, for whatever the reason, those mornings are usually weekend mornings. Breaking Bread Bakery, a local bakery in SLO, makes THE BEST whole-grain bread and it’s hard to have good toast without it now that I’ve become accustomed to its perfection. Quality bread, RX Bar nut butter (or regular, but I like the subtle flavors here), and banana - simple, easy, and satisfying. In case you’re curious, I used those last two very ripe bananas and the last of the nut butter in the RX jar to whip up a crazy-good banana bread. Coming soon!

Do happy hour the right way and get an order of sweet potato fries. Do it. My favorite spot for happy hour these days is Lido at Dolphin Bay - fantastic service, great happy hour prices, and a gorgeous view of the ocean. It doesn’t get better than that!

Last but most certainly not least - Old San Luis BBQ. It’s a 7-minute walk from my apartment and I won’t say that wasn’t a small reason (one of the many) Grace and I picked this apartment. Priorities! I know it’s a barbecue place, but it’s worth mentioning that their sweet potato fries are the best in town. The very best. In terms of actual barbecue, I love love love their pulled pork slider - that and the bbq chef salad you see Grace digging into in this picture are my go-to orders. I did branch out, though, and try the tri-tip which is also fantastic. But pulled pork.

I eat a lot and take pictures of whatever I’m eating just as often. It’s quite fun, actually. Thanks for reading along! I hope you enjoy these posts as much as I do! See ya’ next time.

Still Loading

My friends and I went to a local brewery the other night and pulled out our favorite game - Catchphrase. On one of my turns, I was given the word “impatient” and, without thinking, I just blurted out “Oh oh! ME!” Of course, even though my friends know me quite well, they still gave me confused looks rather than guesses of the word I was hinting at, which helped me realize I hadn’t really given them anything to work with. So I kept describing the word and within just a few seconds, they connected the dots between “ME!” and the rest of the adjectives and descriptions I used to correctly guess the word.

I am impatient. It’s in my genes. I’ve known that my whole life because I see it in some of my family members, and many of my friends, family, and even coworkers see it (and don’t hesitate to point it out) in me, too.

Yesterday, I slid a pan of s’mores blondies that I’m recipe-testing into the oven and quickly realized that “DANG IT! I forgot the baking soda!” and that’s not the first time that’s happened. I just get so excited about baking that I sometimes forget the most essential ingredients. I sometimes pull banana bread out of the oven before it’s actually ready, or I call it a failure before I’ve even had the chance to investigate whether or not it actually is one.

And the same things happens, sometimes, when I’m processing emotions. I’m learning that more and more each day. When I arrived home from Minnesota, just one day after my grandpa passed, I texted my mom while walking to work. “Mom, I don’t know if I can just go to work and act like things are normal. I need to, but I don’t know how I’ll do it.” 24 hours after my grandpa’s passing, I felt the need to swallow this huge life event like it was an Advil and just carry on. I hadn’t ever dealt with such grief before, so I had no idea what was happening then and what was to come, or how long it would take to wade through these thick, muddy waters.

I’m still wading, and it’s been a month and a half. It’s okay, though. I’m not rushing anymore. I know that I can’t skip the grieving process because that’s the pathway - the only one - that leads to healing.

When my last relationship suddenly and unexpectedly ended, I suddenly and unexpectedly found myself smiling and laughing and ready to move on within a week. I’m just being completely honest here. I cried quite a bit - more tears and bigger sobs than ever in my life - the day of and the day after it all happened. This was my forever we’re talking about here, and for a planner like myself, when a big part of your plan for forever falls apart, it’s like…. whoa. But, I picked myself up. I wrote. I talked to loved ones, open and honest and vulnerable about what happened between he and I and that’s how my eyes opened to what went wrong in our relationship. That’s how I felt strong enough to move forward rather quickly after yet another loss.

This didn’t last long, though. Mini panic attacks - emotional rollercoasters I’d never ridden before - in the aftermath of heartbreak followed suit. I was confused - I thought I was over this? I thought I stepped far enough out of the water so that I wouldn’t get wet anymore when the waves came. If you’ve been through a break-up and/or heartbreak in general, you’re probably familiar with the memories that pop back into your head of things you and your person used to do, plans you two had, little details about him/her, etc. And they hit like bricks.

I haven’t grieved this loss, yet. I am smack dab in the middle of wading through the muddy waters. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to just scream “I HATE THESE D@MN MUDDY WATERS!”

In Rising Strong, Brené Brown talks about this space in between falling down hard and standing up strong. When we’re in this position, we’re far enough off the ground to know that we don’t want to be back in that spot. It was too painful and we know we are ready to put in the work required in order to grow stronger and taller. However, we’re not quite in the position to look back on the ground as we walk away, dusting the dirt off and dressing the wounds, to be grateful for the experience and confident in where we ended up.

The scary part of this position isn’t uncertainty of whether or not you will make it all the way off the ground because you know you want to and you know you will. The scary part is uncertainty of how long the rising process will take.

I still don’t know how long I will be grieving the loss of my grandpa. He was my man, and he was the man in our family. This could take a while, and I still have my family - thank goodness - to walk with through this. I also don’t know how long it will take to move past the other loss, the loss of my person. I do know, however, that I want to and I will and that drive is enough for me right now.

handmade card by Dot Plaid

We can’t be impatient in our grieving processes. There is work to be done here. It’s like when your computer shows you that little spinning circle for ten minutes straight - there is nothing you can do but just wait patiently for the page to load. I’m still loading and it’s okay. If you’re still loading, that’s okay. Give yourself time to load because it’s during the loading that we strengthen and wisen in order to better the person we are when we can stand up again, look back at our butt-mark in the dirt with gratitude and look forward to the future with confidence and excitement.

My Big Decision

I remember three years ago in July when I was driving up to San Luis Obispo from my parents’ home at the time in Orange County. The freeway shoulders became this lush green collection of trees. I peeked at my favorite beach spots visible from the freeway. The gorgeous rolling green and brown hills seemed to always welcome me back from wherever I came. I’d smile my biggest every single time.

In that moment, I knew I was home. I cried, of course. I walked in the front door of my apartment to see all my roommates and best friends gathered in the living room, laughing, and now welcoming me home. I called my mom to let her know that I made it safely… home. She knew from the intention and warmth in my voice that I really meant home.

For the two years that followed, I imagined my life here after college. Where will I open my cafe? What jobs and learning experiences will I encounter before I can reach the grand opening of my own dream cafe? Which of my friends will be around, and which will I have to call to come visit? Who will become my new friends here in town?

I didn’t ever imagine leaving. Sure, about ten months ago I made the quick decision to move back to Minnesota, but that was before I took the time to explore job opportunities here. So I changed my mind - and let me tell you it was NOT easy to do so - and planted myself here. New apartment, new roommate, new job, new daily life and routine, some new friends, too. My five-year plan, including my boyfriend at the time, was well thought out and I felt confident and happy… for the most part.

Family life in Minnesota took a sharp turn down an unfamiliar road when my grandpa passed pretty suddenly. Two three-day trips to Minnesota in just three weeks took a toll on me, but not because of the flying. For the first time, I felt like a part of me was leaving home each time I flew back to California. I just filed those feelings under the “I miss my family” folder and continued planning my California life. After all, I have friends who feel like family here, right? I have Grace and I have Jake, and I have friends throughout California, too.

But, Grace is leaving in a month and Jake is no longer in the picture. And those other friends are at least a three-hour drive away.

When my confusion and fear of the unknown began to sink in heavily, I’d drive to the beach to my decision-making spot (I did this almost once a day for two weeks straight) and mentally bounce back and forth between my options:

1) suck it up here. stay. work. try to make new friends. trust that something will come along.

2) go back to Minnesota. move. live with Mom and Dad for a little while. try something new.

this is my decision-making spot, also known as the beach, also known as my favorite spot in SLO.

I didn’t make a physical list of the pros and cons of staying here in California vs. leaving for Minnesota (sorry, Mom). I didn’t really ask anyone, aside from a few essential people, for their advice in making this decision. I didn’t spend weeks thinking about it all because there was a moment when it just clicked. There was a moment when it all made sense that YES - I do need and want to go back to Minnesota. YES - there is a reason that each time I leave I feel like I’m leaving more than just my birthplace.

I’m leaving my loved ones, and they play a huge role in making home actually home. I’m so incredibly lucky to call my parents my best friends (especially since I’ll be moving in with them hehe), and that they welcome me home with open arms (and open kitchen and bedroom!). Not only that, I’m blessed with a huge family to come home to and celebrate life with.

Some difficult decisions stood in the way of this big one, and a few barriers still stand that I’ll have to take care of before this whole thing can actually happen. Though I didn’t know it a few weeks ago, I need to be by myself right now. I need to make my own decisions in my own places. I also needed to explain to my boss (vulnerability and courage required in great amounts here) all that has been going on, and even though I cried through the entire explanation, he understood and wants the best for me. Together, we are working on filling my position and a few others throughout the cafe before I leave. I also need to find someone to take over my lease, and fingers crossed that I can do so before October.

Logistics are the only things that stand in the way of me, my parents, and a full three day road trip out to a new beginning in the good ol’ state of Minnesota. Home. My heart is set. I am so, so happy.

I will miss San Luis Obispo - there is no doubt in my mind this will be a difficult goodbye - but it will always be a home for me. It’ll always be here and so will the cherished memories and friendships I’ve created as a result of the adventure to SLO five years ago. Change is scary, but change can be really good. I’m learning that. Finally.

I’M SO EXCITED!

Why I Write (& some of my go-to journaling prompts)

A pen and paper (which also sometimes translates to my hands and my keyboard) are like a saving grace in my life. I crave the release of my thoughts and emotions after busy days, tough days, and even joyful days. When I began taking writing more frequently, when I started blogging almost 5 years ago, I discovered so. so. so much about myself, about others, and about life in general. Maybe that sounds cheesy or even hard to believe, but every ounce of it is true. To this day, I still journal - whether I actually physically write in my journal or I just type in a blank document on my computer - almost every single day, and I have shelves stacked with worn-out and written-in journals, and files full of word documents and drafts.

I’m not perfect, though - sometimes I lose focus and let life disorganize my priorities, which happened during the last couple of months. In the back of my mind, I knew I needed to take the time to sit down and write, to just release everything from my brain for even just a moment, but of course my to-do list - pack, move, study, graduate, find a job, work, organize, etc. - convinced me that it was most important. And as life sometimes does, it just kept building. I kept scheduling events, working longer hours, saying yes to things I’d rather have said no, and trying to convince myself that I was fine. That I didn’t need to write.

Finally, one night in Minnesota, the night before my grandpa passed, I was the only one awake and had absolutely nothing else to do. Finally, I wrote, and I cannot tell you how amazing it felt. I cried (tears fell on my keyboard and I thought I might break my computer just by crying) and cried and cried - the situation at the time was highly emotional, but also, just the release of thoughts and emotions felt incredible. And for the first time in months, I felt connected to myself. After that trip, and after some heart-breaking news, I came back to California and cried again. This time I was on my own couch in my apartment and I was alone, so I cried even harder. I didn’t know what to do. I felt the weight of the world, or at least my excruciatingly heavy world at the time, on my chest. Grace came home and comforted me, and as I sobbed to her about feeling disconnected from myself again, she asked when was the last time I journaled. She knew exactly what I needed. That night, I wrote almost 12 pages in my journal and with each page, I felt a little better. More like me, even in some of the most challenging life circumstances.

All of that is to say that writing is one of my ultimate priorities - just like movement and intuitive eating and alone time. I don’t write just to post on this blog or to fill pages of cute colorful journals. I write to hear myself think. I write to let myself word-vomit and then clean it up. I write to exhale after inhaling all day. I write to put life into perspective. I write to remember.

I write to learn more about who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming.

Here are some of the prompts I created for myself in those terrifying oh-my-word-what-is-happening moments.

What are some things (activities, people, passions, etc.) that bring me joy? (don’t hold back - I listed everything from laughing to watching the sunset to drinking coffee.)

What are some things (activities, people, passions, etc.) that make me feel confident? (this one was interesting - I looked back on it and realized none of the things I listed had to do with eating or exercising a certain amount, or fitting into a certain size jeans.)

How can I practice gratitude more often throughout each day and week? (I think a lot of this one has to do with just slowing down and taking a deeeeeep breath.)

What are my intentions for today? (I write three each morning and then reflect on how I lived those out, or maybe didn’t and why, that day.)

What are some learning opportunities from today? (these tie into the reflections from above).

What am I looking forward to today? (list as many things as possible!)

How can I take care of myself right now? (I like the idea of toolboxes - I’ll think of a handful of things that make me feel better, more confident, more secure, etc. and use those in times of stress, loneliness, or just “bleh” days)

What are some qualities I want to develop/foster? (I thought of things like patience, vulnerability, and self-compassion.)

I hope this inspires you to pick up a pen and paper sometime soon. And I hope you never feel like your writing needs to be “perfect” - just like we don’t know what the perfect human looks/sounds/acts like, we don’t know what perfect writing (journaling, especially) is. All it needs to be is YOU. If that requires peace and quiet, find that space. If it requires 10 minutes or an hour of your day, make that time. Not only is writing worth it, but so are you.

Take care, friends!

Thoughts Lately: Family

I type to you from my seat on the plane, my fourth time in one of these super comfy things in the last two weeks. A couple days ago, I flew back to Minnesota for my grandpa’s funeral (catch up here). It’s not that I despise going back to Minnesota - quite the opposite, actually. I love it and would spend twice as much time there if I could. It’s just that the circumstances under which I’ve been going recently aren’t the best. 

My grandpa’s funeral took place yesterday at his local church. During my grandpa’s last couple days with us, the pastor at his church came to visit him and almost knocked all of us over when he looked my grandparents in the eyes and thanked them - he said they have been pillars of this church. The few times I’d attended a service with them, I was not surprised by the amount of friends - I might even say family - they’ve collected within their church community. My grandparents are amazing people, and all these friends/family will without an ounce of hesitation say the exact same thing. So, my family knew this was the right place for the funeral. Having only been to one funeral before, and being only 10 years old at the time, I didn’t know what to expect (seems like that’s a major theme throughout this experience, huh?). 

As the family of the person everyone gathered to celebrate and remember, my parents, brother, sister-in-law, and I stood at the front of the church with my grandma while all the guests - all those friends that seem close enough to be family, just like us - greeted us and gave their most genuine condolences. After about ten minutes of this, tears collected in pools just behind my eyes, ready to overflow, as I noticed the line wrapping all around the inside of the church and then out the door. All. These. People. Here for my grandpa. He was an amazing man, to say the least, and I’ve known this my entire life. But, my goodness. All of these people loved him so dearly, too. I couldn’t and still can’t comprehend the amount of love I felt radiating throughout the church. My knees buckled as the tears dripped out. I tried to stop them and cover it up, but dammit, this is my grandpa’s funeral. Who am I trying to kid. I’m kind of a mess right now and if that’s any indication of how much I loved him, then let the mess be messier. 

My dad and brother both gave speeches dedicated to Grandpa, and again, I was floored. That man - Wayne Hansen - was and is so so so immensely and unconditionally loved. And he didn’t hesitate to show us that love, too. 

If it’s not clear already, the past few months have knocked me over quite aggressively. Graduating and starting a new job have been fun and exciting, but stepping into adulthood is freakin’ scary. On top of that, I’ve been wrestling with a lot of internal questions about who I am, what I want to do, what I believe, how I want to feel, how I want to live, who I want to be with, my next five to ten years of life, and the list goes on. I’m learning, growing, and handling it (barely, at times). I’m crying quite a bit, too, but that’s actually helping. I’m reading, writing, walking, and spending time with myself in my own thoughts free of shame and judgment and “should’s”. I’m taking life day by day. In just one day last week, I filled around 15 pages in my journal with thoughts from the day and all that’s going on in my life. My hand wasn’t even tired, if you’re wondering. 

All that I’m learning about myself is for me right now, and for the blog and therefore the entire world to see at a later time, maybe. But all that I’ve learned in just these two short weeks, I will gladly share here. It’s pretty simple. 

Family. For nothing else but the unconditional love of family will carry us all through this experience. For nothing else would I have flown out of state twice in two weeks. For nothing else would Grandpa have wanted us to carry on in life, even without his presence. 

I realize that I am so beyond blessed to have such a loving family. I may never be able to express a sufficient amount of gratitude to match the love my family shares. It’s everything that matters. It’s the glue that pieces us back together. It’s the most wholehearted love I’ve ever experienced. 

On a less serious note, here are some other thoughts lately: 

1. My parents’ home feels like home, even though Minnesota doesn’t. Strange, I know, but I just love their house - the way the sunlight brightens the living room each morning while I make coffee, the frogs and crickets that sing (sometimes really annoyingly) at night out by the pond, the closeness of family, and the little white mutt that’s been a part of it all for thirteen years, and so much more. I love coming home to my parents, my family, and that house. 

2. I cannot keep up with my family when alcohol is involved. I have a glass or two of wine and that is my limit, but everyone else seems to be able to enjoy twice that. It’s not an issue - I’m glad I know my limit, but sometimes I just wish I could have one more glass without… well, you know the feeling. 

3. I think I’ve developed some minor flight anxiety. Takeoff and landing used to bring me such joy and excitement, and the in-between used to be my time to gaze out the window at the clouds, just thinking and admiring the fact that I’M FLYING. Now, though, takeoff and landing freak. me. out. and the in-between is now my time to focus on deep breaths and to try not to scream when we hit a little turbulence. 

4. If something in my life has been missing during the last couple of months (which I’m sure it’s been more than just one thing), it’s writing. It slipped out of my hands when life got a little crazy back in March, and I haven’t been able to pick it back up or to recognize that I need to pick it back up until now. When I had a little emotional breakdown last week (which actually wasn’t super little because I sat on the couch for an hour wrapped up in a blanket just sobbing, but it’s okay, I’m okay), nothing else felt right except for writing. I grabbed my journal, hugged it - not kidding - whipped it open, and wrote for about an hour straight. Almost everyday since then, I’ve written and felt much, much better. It’s one form of therapy for me. 

You have made it all the way through?! Gosh. Go you. Thank you for giving me whatever amount of time it took for you to read all of that. I appreciate you! I’ll be back on here soon with another recipe and, as always, more thoughts.

Life Lately

My family and I received some bad news from my grandparents’ doctor about a month ago - my grandpa was diagnosed with stage 3 bone cancer. This was a long-awaited answer to the question of his increasingly intense pain, and a dreaded end-of-life circumstance for those of us who love him so much. My brother, sister-in-law, and I booked plane tickets to Wisconsin as soon as we could, so that’s where I was this week.

I had no idea what to expect, even though I knew exactly what was happening. All that we experienced this week (and for my parents, the last month) was challenging beyond belief, but we wouldn’t have traded that time with him and my grandma for the world. And now I’d give my entire world to have more time with them both.

We had a difficult time finding 24-hour care and sorting through the details of that, nursing homes, assisted living, and many other palliative care options, so while we sorted, we provided the care. We had no idea what we were doing because… well, we are not nurses, but we came together and gave him our everything. Friends and family who knew about the situation sent us their love, prayers, thoughts, and most comforting words. They asked how we were doing, and I think I can speak for us all when I say it’s an indescribable feeling.

One night, when everyone had gone to sleep, I wrote. I just let my hands go and here’s how my heart describes everything. Disclaimer - if you’ve lost a loved one to cancer, this may be triggering. Proceed with caution.

This is one of those things life doesn’t prepare us for. It’s terrifying, yet it’s inevitable. It’s painfully tense, yet it’s quietly peaceful. It’s natural, yet it’s uncomfortable. It’s heart-breaking, yet it’s heart-warming. It’s like everything you try to prepare yourself for, yet it’s completely different. 

To know that a loved one’s life is going to end. To hear them say they’re ready for the end whether you are or not. To watch them decline, slowly at first over the years, and then quickly at the end hour by hour. To look into their glossy eyes and see right past the pain and medication and disease and into the person you know and love and will forever remember. To tell them it’s okay, that we are all here, that they can go now. 

It’s the most indescribable experience. 

People tell you to hold family close, and you do, but that’s one of the places tension grows. They also tell you to remember all the good moments, but you’re stuck in reality. All these people are just trying to help because they love you, and none of their comforting words and pieces of advice are wrong. It’s just…

Well, it’s really damn hard. I get it. 

You want them to be comfortable, but they’re writhing in pain and the ten medications are running out and it’s 11 PM. You want to hold onto little moments of joy in all the madness and sadness, but you almost feel a little guilty doing so. You want to sleep, but you can’t because if you do for just two minutes it could all be different. You want it to be over, but then you question if that makes you a bad person because when it’s over, that means death and an empty place in the house. 

You just want to know what the hell you’re doing. But you don’t and you won’t because I don’t think death gets any easier, and clearly there’s no handbook for it. This is the first one I’ve worked through and, given the amount of loved ones I’m blessed with, I don’t suspect it to be the last. Death is hard because we love people and we don’t want to see them go. We don’t want the love to dissolve into thin air and once that person is gone, where else is it going to go? I ask that question, too. 

But let me tell you something that might make this a little easier. Take that love that you shared with that person - it’s special, it’s as long and enduring as forever. Don’t let it dissolve. Give all that you can to that person while you have them, and then give the rest out because we all need it. Your loved one may be in excruciating pain and may look like the best and only candidate for that special love, but look around the room. Look around the hospital or nursing home or wherever you are and see everyone else (and their families and friends) who need it, too. 

My grandpa loved my family miles beyond what I can fathom, and I saw that in his last few days. He held on for us all, and though I wanted him to go so that his pain would stop, I also wanted the special moments to last a lifetime - when he’d reach for my hand, squeeze it tight, and bring it to his lips for a kiss; when he’d reminisce with us back to his childhood and old friends; when he’d turn over in his bed and bring my grandma closer to his side; when he’d look at me, as best he could, and say “I love you”; and so many more. He was exhausted, but he hung on for every cherished moment he had with us and I will never be able to thank him enough for that. 

I saw love all around me this weekend. It was in the way my grandma looked at him and stroked his arm. It was in the way my family gave our everything to care for them both. It was in the words and the care the hospice team provided. It was in and around and all for my grandpa. 

Breath may stop and life may disappear, but love lives on. Let it live on in memory of your loved one.

Braving My Wilderness

For some, life slows down after graduating college - searching for jobs, traveling, spending time with family and friends - all important things that were for so long bumped out of the schedule by class, studying, meetings, projects, etc. So, post-graduation is the time to let life fizzle out a bit, like pulling a sizzling hot burger off the grill and letting the cheese melt on top, letting the juices amp up their flavor.

For others, life speeds up after graduating college - adjusting to a new job, planning trips to visit family and friends, pulling together all the pieces of this intimidating 1,000,000-piece puzzle we call “adulting” - all also important things demanding time and energy. They just so happen to occur at the same flippin’ time. And for this one, I have yet to come up with a food analogy because, if you haven’t already guessed it, I most certainly do not have this figured out.

I don’t know where I thought I would be right now, five years ago. I didn’t know I would fall in love with San Luis Obispo, or that I would switch my major to nutrition, or that I would struggle more than ever with food and body image issues. I didn’t know that I would question who I am and what I believe, or that I would make Hungry Haley such a serious thing. I didn’t know, 18 years old, that I’d someday be 23 years old and feel so disconnected from me.

Gosh, I can’t think of a year that’s been harder than this one. I slid right into my 22nd year - mature and “sophisticated” enough to move on from the downtown bar scene the 21 year-olds love to the early evening happy hours 22 year-olds look forward to after work. At the time, I had just picked up the pieces of a broken Haley and glued them back together, stronger than ever. But then life shifted and tested the glue. My best friends moved out of SLO and my parents out of the state. My passion for baking woke me up at 4 AM and left me exhausted. My classes talked about how to become an RD and, though I feel confident that isn’t the path for me, I will admit I often felt judged and insufficient for choosing a different path than my peers.

Fatigue, stress, loneliness, and fear consumed much of my 22nd year. And I knew turning one year older wouldn’t win it all back, so I put in work. I’ve sought myself, the girl I was once and still vividly remember today, the girl I want more than anything to be again.

I saw more and more people pick up Brene Brown’s Braving the Wilderness, and read more and more rave reviews, so I picked up my own copy. I read and read, underlined, and starred and circled, and somehow Brene’s words made sense even though I couldn’t grasp an understanding of my own wilderness yet. In fact, I think I made it through the whole book before I grasped it.

And that brings me here. i braved my own wilderness without even knowing so.

My wilderness, I came to find out after a months-long trek through it, was this person I was becoming. I don’t know her and I don’t want to. She is not familiar to me because I had never heard of her, expected her arrival, or encountered her. And when I did - when I stood in front of the mirror and looked at her for a l o n g time - I knew she was someone I did not want to be.

I stepped back and looked at the big picture of everything that was going on around me and in my life. I apologized to myself for the hurtful things I whispered, and I promised to work on speaking kindly to myself. I pulled strength both from my core and from my cherished loved ones. And, believe me, I have put. in. work to be happy with who I am - after all, we don’t call it “walking in the park”. We call it “braving the wilderness” because it’s scary and unknown and vulnerable, but at the same time it’s a breath of fresh air and a beautiful green landscape and a prime opportunity to develop self-compassion and self-love.

By stepping back from the mirror and looking not externally but internally at myself, I found in my core the real me. I found Haley and I absolutely love her. She is not perfect, and she embraces her imperfections. She is beautiful, and she has beauty marks. She is strong, and she has moments of weakness. She is vulnerable, and she is courageous. She is independent, and she is able to love beyond imagination. She works her booty off - physically, mentally, emotionally - and she gets tired sometimes. She loves herself and she stays true to Haley.

Braving your wilderness is scary and uncomfortable. It is by no means easy, but by all means worth every step. It is something only you can do for you, but if you keep your loved ones close by, you won’t be alone at the end.

Recent Eats: Birthday Treats, Breakfast for Two, and a Trip to LA

Hello hello hello! Welcome back to the more free-spirited and way-less-scheduled post on the blog. Here’s what I’ve been cooking, eating, and drinking lately. Bon appetit!

Cast-iron skillets, coffee makers, and jumbo muffin tins - these are three of the most essential kitchen items (among a few others). I bought the jumbo muffin tin specifically for this recipe because I knew, if I wanted bakery-style muffins, they must be jumbo. And they must have the coarse sprinkling sugar on top. Of course. These make the best quick weekday breakfast with a scoop of Greek yogurt and a drizzle of honey, and the best accompaniment to a weekend brunch spread.

I cannot tell you how much I love that Jake and I can cook together. We’ve made homemade pizza (all the ingredients from Trader Joe’s!), sweet potato nachos, pasta with chicken sausage, and a friend-rice-type-thing except with farro instead of rice, annnd even some tahini brownies! This particular night we made a sweet potato hash with spicy chicken sausage, avocado, and goat cheese (my favorite cheese). Yumma!

Grace is my breakfast buddy. We lovvvve breakfast, and when our slow weekend mornings collide, we take advantage! Coffee comes first, always. Black for me, and with a splash of almond milk for her. While we sip, we throw out breakfast ideas - French toast, waffles (those have been off the menu since the day I tossed my cheap waffle maker in the trash), pancakes, banana bread, muffins, avocado and egg toast, and the list goes on. Pancakes win, 9 out of 10 times. Here we have gluten-free blueberry oatmeal pancakes with fresh fruit, Greek yogurt, peanut butter, and maple syrup. These were some of the BEST gf pancakes I’ve ever had! Don’t worry - the recipe is saved and patiently waiting for its turn on the blog.

I’ve lived a 5-minute-drive away from the famous Madonna Inn for the last 5 years, and I’ve only had so much as a bite or two of their well-known cakes. Grace and I drove by it on our way home from the beach one night, looked at Madonna, looked at each other, and just knew - it’s time. Cake time. We scurried inside, 23-year-olds with the excitement of 7-year-olds, and scanned the glass case for the cake that called out to us. Soon enough, we sat in puffy pink barstools at a diner-style counter and scooped forkful after forkful of rich, German chocolate cake into our mouths.

PS - if you’re planning to visit, one slice feeds 2-3 people. Easily.

Jake brought me donuts on my birthday! He’s a keeper. These are all my favorites, and apparently his least favorites - that’s probably a good thing. Apple fritters remind me of my dad, who’d always choose this one on Saturday morning donut runs, and now I think they’re among some of the greatest donuts on the shelves. I discovered old-fashioned and buttermilk donuts in college and love almost equally as much as apple fritters. It’s a texture thing when it comes to donuts, and the fluffy donuts just don’t understand that. Anyway, enough of my donut opinions.

I think summer birthday celebrations should always involve beach views, best friends, and strong, sweet sangria - thankfully, mine had all those wonderful things! Lido at Dolphin Bay provided the beach views and the strong, sweet sangria, and, well, I’ve got the best friends covered, obviously. When everyone asked me where I wanted to go/what I wanted to do on my special day, I think it only took me half a second to pick up the phone and make a patio reservation at Lido. Definitely one of my favorite spots in this area - unbeatable!

We can talk about jumping rope and coloring with sidewalk chalk and slumber parties all we want, but nothing quite brings back the memories of childhood like Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls. I know, I know - a can of processed, sugary dough that asks nothing more of the baker who prepares them than to just open it up and lay them out on a baking sheet, bake for 10 minutes, and then spread this pre-made (who-knows-what) frosting on top? Yeah, those. I’m all for whole grains and vegetables and homemade goodies, but Pillsbury has its own special place in my diet.

On that same sweet note - CAKE. My whole family flew out to California to celebrate my graduation, and I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend. The only thing I asked for (demanded, actually) was cake. To me, it’s almost as important as the loved ones in a celebration. Everyone insisted I couldn’t make my own cake, even though I offered and kind of wanted to honestly, so we stopped at Angela’s Pastries in Paso Robles and picked up one or two or… eleven things. My favorite was the lemon cake, with the carrot cake coming up close behind in second place.

Another celebration necessity - mimosas. Duh. ‘Nuff said.

This burger from Hachè LA gave In n’ Out a serious run for its money. Tender meat, creamy goat cheese, roasted tomatoes, and the (almost) perfect bun, plus a side of fries to share and a tall glass of sangria for both Connie and me. It tasted like it should have cost way more than it did, but I won’t argue with them on that. Girl’s gotta’ budget! And I love a good burger that fits in that budget.

We woke up the next morning, sipped some coffee, and immediately realized we’d need more than just one cup. Connie seems to know LA like the back of her hand, yet somehow we still couldn’t decide on a coffee shop that was both convenient and cute. That is, until we landed on Little Ripper. This is the kind of coffee shop where I’m sure a simple pour-over is just dandy, but next to a Chicory-Cacao house-made almond milk-infused latte sweetened with dates and lookin’ all bougie… well, the latter steals the spotlight in my eyes. Connie ordered the same drink, but with a lavender flavor and hot instead of iced. We loved both!

Between our morning beverages and our evening beverages (shown above), we did a lot of networking, socializing, and working in the midst of all that, so we wanted something with a little extra zing, ya’ know? Connie has had her eye on Sawyer for a while (it’s a bar, not a person) and I can understand why - refreshing atmosphere with light, cheery decor and absolutely delish drinks. We had two! Round one is pictured above: two margaritas, and round two (not shown): was a moscow mule for me and frosè for her. Whenever my next visit to LA is, I’ll be stopping here for sure.

So, that’s that for now. I’ll be back soon with more eats and drinks!

The End and The Beginning

The end of the best five years of my life and the beginning of… well, the rest of my life.

I walked across the stage yesterday in front of 16,000+ people - my classmates, friends, family, and professors cheering me on - to receive my well-earned diploma. That’s the seal of approval on all my hard work: all my late nights, all the tears in my textbooks, all the pre-exam nerves, all the stress about building my resume; all the ups and the downs; all the laughs with friends late at night in our perfect little apartment, all the learning and growing together, watching each of us blossom into a one-of-a-kind beautiful, intelligent, passionate young woman.

And now all of it comes to an end, and that’s the hardest part. I hate endings more than I love sweet potatoes. Change and I aren’t the best of friends, and we’ve tussled quite a bit throughout the last five years, as each new set of changes comes along. Who knows if we ever will be friends. I guess, maybe, I need to keep experiencing change first-hand in order to find out.

It’s the end, but as all the speakers and my wise father pointed out, it’s also the beginning. I didn’t spend five years in classrooms and labs learning all about food and nutrition and the human body (a literal human body for a whole quarter - thanks, cadaver, for your generous contribution to my studies) to finish learning when I receive my diploma. I may not sit in a classroom or lab for some time, but I will certainly save my notes and textbooks and continue to study what I love so that I can apply that knowledge, so that I can use it to help me chase my dreams and perhaps even discover new ones.

It’s the end of college, but it’s the beginning of the rest of my life. It’s time to let Haley, the nutrition nerd who loves donuts and Chardonnay as much as she loves spinach and carrots, fearlessly step foot into the world and show everyone who she is, what she knows, and how she can help.

Thoughts: Advocating for My Own Health

People talk about living these out-of-body experiences, ones in which they feel they are watching themselves live from another body’s perspective. That comes close to describing the last two months for me. I feel as though I’ve been watching, through memories, the person that I want to be while living in the body of someone I do not want to become. And because life seems to move at the speed of lightning sometimes, I haven’t had a minute to realize this until now.

I’ve hesitated to talk about this for a couple reasons: 1) it’s a touchy, personal subject, and 2) I like to write about and share the things I conquer (I haven’t conquered this… yet). And yet, here I am. Though it’s a touchy personal subject that I have not yet conquered, my experiences matter and - hopefully - can positively impact in one way or another even just one person who reads this.

About two months ago, I began taking oral hormonal birth control, “the pill”. I decided that a low-dose pill was the best option for me at the time. Much of the research explained similar potential side effects: mood swings, acne, changes in menstrual cycle, weight gain, among others. My doctor assured me that those are rare, and minor when they do occur, so I trusted her and moved forward.

One month in, the changes became more apparent. I wouldn’t describe it as mood swings, but rather just an overall mood change - my usual and frequent bubbly happiness required energy, while a foreign and monotonous mood I can only describe as “blahhh” become the norm. I have found myself, multiple times, flipping through old photos and gazing at the girl I know as Haley, longing to feel like her again. Sure, life’s giving my family and I some downs right now, but the Haley I know would normally be much better able to cope and support her loves ones, too. I love a good cry every so often, but multiple times a week isn’t what I mean by that. I cherish moments when I can lean into my support system of loved ones, but the Haley I know is normally strong enough to at least manage a spoonful of life’s downs. She’s independent. This person’s body I’ve been living in seems dependent and selfish.

And this has been the hardest part - the weight change. The handful of close friends to whom I’ve opened up about this encourage me and love me, and they remind me that I’m beautiful despite my body size and that they see no difference. I believe them. I really do. I just know that things have changed, and unnaturally so. Just because weight change is a potential side effect of hormonal birth control does not make it something I need to just swallow and move on. I believe in body positivity and supporting, encouraging, and loving all shapes and sizes, and I will do everything it takes to love my body at all stages of life because I know my body will change. Naturally, it will change. This, however, is not natural. This is not a weight change I need to just swallow and move on.

I have been physically uncomfortable and mentally discouraged. I take care of myself by moving and eating intuitively and speaking kindly to myself as much as possible, so to feel like a potato when I want to move, or like garbage after I eat a balanced meal… that doesn’t make sense to me.

Everyone I talk to tells me this uncomfortable phase will pass, that my body will adjust to the hormones. Okay… is all I can seem to think. It’s all I’ve had the energy for. I consulted my doctor again and reported how I’ve been feeling. Instead of comforting her unwell and already very discouraged patient, she told me I was wrong about this, that the pill does not ever cause weight gain. That I must be doing something wrong - am I eating more? Moving less? Living mindlessly? I couldn’t believe her response, her invalidation of my feelings without an ounce of hesitation or without one single question about anything else that could be going on.

Interesting. Article after article (from credible sources!) I read warned of these side effects. Very interesting.

I weighed the pros and cons, and I examined every option, and I have decided to stop the pill and hold off on any other birth control for the time being. Some have looked at me like I’m crazy and others have promised to stand beside me, telling me they admire my decision. Brenè Brown might even do the same - I’m braving my own wilderness.

Anyway, this isn’t about that doctor or the pill, but the whole experience lit a fire under my booty that leads me here - to encouraging you to advocate for your own health. To stand up for YOU and do what’s right for YOU and take care of YOU because, at the end of every single day, you are the one you live with. Yours is the mind that thinks for you and speaks to you. Yours is the heart that beats for you and loved ones. Yours is the body that moves and functions for you. So please, please, please, whatever you do, do it for you.

My intention for this post is to share my experience, not to advertise or demonize hormonal birth control. I hope that everyone who considers it takes the time to learn about all possible side effects and consequences. Educate yourself and make the best decision for you. If someone you know is struggling with something similar, here are some resources:

1. Nourishing Minds Nutrition Podcast Episode 15

2. Real Life Women’s Health

3. The Real Life RD (blog posts about hormones)

Four Years Later

I knew there was just something about this place when the freeway exit screamed “CAL POLY” both on the green rectangular sign and on the actual street, the left-hand turn off the freeway exit onto Grand Avenue, which led up the hill lined with cute but college-y houses to the campus Mom practically had to force me to visit for the first time back in April 2014.

“It’s very…. agricultural.” That was all I’d heard about Cal Poly up until that point. “OOOH! There’s a really cool farmers market every week,” a friend who knew me well (clearly) and had visited San Luis Obispo once before pointed out when she noticed my apprehension to a “very agricultural” school. Okay, it wasn’t just that. I was a senior in high school, dating my first love and not wanting to live 3+ hours away from him, fearing what a whole handful of changes would bring to the comfortable life built for me in quaint little Chino Hills, California.

Much to my own surprise, I accepted my admission 24 hours after my first visit. What can I say? I fall in love fast and hard. Cal Poly showed me everything I wanted to see that day, every quality I looked for in a school, so I couldn’t say no. Six months later, single and ten times more terrified of more changes ahead of me, Mom, Dad, and I packed up the car and drove into my future. Little did I know, this was just beginning of the best decision I’d ever make.

I spent my freshman year falling even more madly in love with Cal Poly and the surrounding community of San Luis Obispo. Just beginning the journalism major, I wasn’t taking any stressful classes, so I devoted the rest of my time to working at a local vegan place called “Bliss Wholesome Cafe”. It was here that my inner extrovert burst through its shell and introduced itself ever so boldly to the outside world, and I liked that newfound personality of mine. However, the vegan cheesecake I’d nibble on throughout my shift was not the highlight of my freshman year. After several phone calls home almost drown out with tears, I finally found friends I felt connected to within minutes of our introduction, and these girls eventually became best friends (they still are!) and roommates.

Sophomore year… well, unlike my freshman year, this one was challenging. I remember walking back to my dorm at 6 PM twice a week, after my journalism class on race, sex, gender, discrimination, and basically everything wrong with today’s, feeling discouraged, confused, hopeless, and disgusted. I questioned whether I wanted to continue studying journalism, and within a couple days, I was sitting in my advisor’s office preparing to switch into the nutrition major. Throughout the rest of the school year, I’d sit in chemistry classes, intro to nutrition classes, and some not-so-friendly professors’ offices crying (again?) because chemistry just doesn’t make sense but it needs to so that I can switch majors and actually study my passion and aahhhhh!

But, hey, I got through that. I survived. I made it into the nutrition major and began my junior year with a bang - four classes including organic chemistry and a part-time job. Vivid memories of long weekdays at school followed by nights of non-stop studying, broken up with weekends spent working at a local donut shop and spending quality time with friends whenever possible. Organic chemistry was just the first of many challenging, but intriguing nutrition courses, the ones that assured me with a heavy pat on the back that I was in the right place. My junior year finished smoothly, like the swift and elegant twist of the knife as the final touch of icing the cake.

As academically draining as my senior year was, it was the best cake I’ve ever sunk my teeth into. If I thought the organic chemistry class started my junior year with a bang, this new metabolism class was about to revolutionize my idea of the bang. On the edge of my seat in class everyday, with a 3 PM latte pumping through my blood, I’ve never felt more engaged and fascinated by a topic. Not only that, my professor - Dr. Scott Reaves - is a legend. The next round of classes barged in and stayed for a while - all 17 units of anatomy, genetics, foodservice management, and metabolism 2. Anyone looking for me during those 3 months usually found me in a coffee shop studying on the weekends, and in class or labs during the week. I did love it, though. Oh, and I fell in love with a boy. More on that to come.

During the summer between my senior and “super-senior” years, I waved goodbye to 7 out of 8 of my best friends who all graduated and moved on from SLO. I sat in my new house, uncomfortable because it didn’t feel “home-y” and terrified because I didn’t know if it or anything else would ever again. I wanted expectations and hope for the upcoming year, but I had none and I hated that. And remember that part about falling in love? Well, I had to fall out, and it hurt like hell. Like when you’re pulling a tray of fresh-baked cookies from the oven and suddenly realize, while holding the scorching hot tray, that there’s a hole in your oven mitt. For the first time in years, I felt hurt, empty, and scared.

My best friend, Grace, and I set out to tackle this new life in SLO - her as a post-grad working for a local collegiate baseball team - and me as a “super-senior” with ants in my pants anticipating graduation, 2 quarters late. We had no idea what was to come.

Trying to make new friends, adjust to a changed lifestyle and classes I didn’t love, wake up at 4 AM for work, and all the while make it through a 5th year of school brings me here. I got through it. I survived. I worked my butt off. I fell in love and still am. I graduated. Grace and I built each other up and developed our rock-hard friendship. And now I’m left to continue writing my own definition of me, sans the word “student”.

Recent Eats: Easy Breakfasts, True Food Kitchen's Burger, and Healthier Boxed Mac and Cheese

It’s time for some non-Instagrammed food photos! As unaesthetic as these are, I find them a refreshing change of pace from all the set-up and touched-up food photos I see on a daily basis. I love those, and I create plenty of them, too, but every so often I like something raw, untouched. Something you’re eating on a Monday night when your fridge is almost empty. Something you’re quickly packing for lunch when you should have walked out the door five minutes ago.

If you like those, too, you’ll love all of these. Bon appetit!

Three main components of my diet - greens, sweet potatoes, and goat cheese. I’ll add avocado occasionally, but it isn’t essential for me. I toss the sweet potato cubes in avocado oil, garlic powder, sea salt, and chili powder, then roast them at 425F for 30-35 minutes, tossing halfway through. They come out absolutely perfect every single time!

This banana bread is an essential component of my morning routine - it’s that good. I especially love it with Icelandic Provisions Skyr (plain) and creamy peanut butter. This and some more coffee after a morning workout - MMM doesn’t get better!

Here’s just another variation of my favorite breakfast. If I’m out of either ripe bananas or time to make banana bread, I’ll buy these sprouted bagels from Alvarado Street Bakery and gather up the same team members - skyr, peanut butter, whatever fruit I have on hand, and cinnamon. I don’t know why it’s so good, why I love it so much, but it is and I do and we just need to leave it at that.

The very best, juiciest, sweetest oranges I’ve ever sunk my teeth into fall from a tree just 20 steps away from my kitchen. It’s wonderful! They’re best enjoyed when eaten directly over the sink, all cares about cleanliness pushed aside for just a moment to soak in the flavor, and the fact that I have a beautiful, fruitful orange tree in my backyard.

Is it possible to make chicken thighs actually look appetizing? No? Oh, okay. Then I don’t feel as insecure about the gross-looking (but delicious!) chicken thighs tucked between the best crispy roasted broccoli and spaghetti. Wait - what? Yeah, I made spaghetti! ‘Twas a delightful and simple meal I will certainly be whipping up again soon.

The bagel is back. And this time, he’s savory - not a bit sweet. Homemade egg sandwiches don’t compare to bagel-shop egg sandwiches, but for a quick weekday lunch, they will certainly do the trick. This one is hummus, avocado, crushed red pepper flakes, nutritional yeast, a fried egg, and some mixed greens.

Am I the only who has always felt like homemade wraps aren’t as good as sandwich-shop/cafe-style wraps? Well, up until now, at least. With only ten minutes to prepare a lunch to eat in the car while I drove down to LA a few weeks ago, I spread some hummus on a whole-wheat lavash bread, sprinkled nutritional yeast and crushed red pepper flakes, greens, and sliced tempeh and rolled it up tightly. It fit snuggly into my tupperware container and was, I must say, one of the easiest to eat car-lunches ever! It’s also delicious, so even when I’m not eating with one hand, driving with the other, and singing my favorite throwback songs, I make this.

The True Food Kitchen burger. I can debate between this and other items on the menu as much as I want to, but I always end up with this messy hunk in my hands and I’m not mad about that. It’s balanced out with a satisfying kale salad on the side, too. You probably aren’t looking at that, though… I mean, after all, look at that cheeeeeeese.

A deconstructed peanut butter cup? Sure. Nestle is releasing new chocolate morsels soon, so I asked my friend to grab a sample form Expo West. Let’s just say…. we should warn all the other chocolate chips. These are coming in hot. I scooped a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter to act as the creamy vehicle on which to bring the chocolate chips to my mouth. Gotta’ keep life exciting in the midst of studying chronic kidney disease, respiratory complications, and metabolic stress, ya’ know?

I finished the last bite off this plate and, for the umpteenth time, asked myself WHYYYY do I not make this Banza mac n’ cheese more often?! It easily could have stood on its own, sans steamed kale, but it was the only veggie I had in the fridge on Monday night (I went grocery shopping the next morning), so… yeah. I may or may not have eaten the entire box. I don’t know. It was just unbelievably good.