Mac+Cheese+Tomatoes

The tomatoes are really just an after thought so you can hold on to an itty-bitty morsel of whatever diet you think you are trying to stick to this week. My seventeen-year-old-self would murder my twenty-two-year-old-self for eating this. Bring it on. It was pretty great.
As someone who has held on pretty strongly to weight standards and ideals over time, it's hard to imagine that I now have no reserves about creating (and eating) a vat of mac that has over 4 cups of cheese and 2 cups of milk in it. There is a rue involved, if there is anyone else out there like me that can't seem to get them right. Stir in the cheese and the pasta and bam! All done. We cut up some delicious garlic ciabatta and put it over the top with some more cheese. Then we ate it with blueberry-vinegar marinated pork tenderloin that ruined my baking pan but was otherwise incredible.

Strawberry Yogurt Cake with Strawberries and Mint

Strawberry Yogurt Cake with Strawberries and Mint

"Can I come home for the summer?
I could slow down for a little while
Get back to lovin' each other
Leave all those long and lonesome miles behind"
Ray Lamontagne and the Pariah Dogs "For the Summer"
From, God Willin' & the Creek Don't Rise

My two younger sisters both have summer birthdays. They also both have long, naturally blonde hair to match their naturally long legs and tan skin. I, on the other hand, am pale, and was born in November. A great month, yes, but let's face it, everyone loves a summer birthday.

So when we were all still small and living under the same roof, my mom would make the most wonderfully-delicious, summery-fantastical strawberry cake for my sisters' birthdays.  Strawberries would be in season and the whole thing was just a lovely childhood memory, unable to be recreated by my feeble and infant kitchen experimentation.  But what I was able to produce was actually pretty delicious of its own accord.

The was pretty simple because its from a box (I cheated). Instead of following the instructions for the white cake to the tee however, I decreased the amount of water and vegetable oil and added a good amount (~1 c.) of strawberry greek yogurt. The outcome is a moist, refrigerator-ready cake with a somewhat dense-yet-light consistency. Since I only have 1 8x8 cake pan and at least 10 pie pans in my hodge-podge kitchen cupboards, I had to bake the three layers one at a time. A royal pain in the ass but well worth it in the end.

The frosting was a whole different animal. When I do eventually attempt a round II with this particular cake, I will try a different method of frosting. So I tried to do everything by the book - cool the cakes, etc. etc. - and it was still a mess. I whipped the frosting from the can and then added about 1/2 c. of the strawberry greek yogurt (i bought a really big container). Now, don't get me wrong, it was absolutely delicious. But because of the yogurt, it had to be kept very cold and needless to say trying to frost a room-temperature cake in the middle of May was no fairy tale. But we kept it in the fridge and it was delicious all the nights we ate it (which were a lot of nights because there is only two of us).

So it wasn't exactly my moms. The mint+strawberry combo on top was my attempt at making it look like the ones I remember. The mint is nice because it adds an interesting flavor compliment to the strawberries. Unfortunately I didn't have to much of it because my small potted mint plant is often reserved for making mojitos. Also a summer necessity.

TO DO: 1. hem the curtains 2. think about thinking about starting a food blog to occupy by newly acquired free time 3. send the package to my grandmother i've been procrastinating about 4. work out 5. read about chocolate mousse cake

I've come to learn that there are only three things in the world at this moment in time and space that really make me feel entirely happy and satisfied: kids, gardening and cooking. Of course Ethan is also instrumental in providing me a sense of fulfillment and I am endlessly appreciative of this. Everyone needs someone who helps them not lose their mind. Unfortunately I've been lacking in the departments of "fun" and "satisfying" for some time now, possibly forever. I promise, acknowledging this has just been a walk in the park. kidding.

Being truthful though, there have been things I've been greatly successful with. I've been fortunate to have had success at a young age in the geosciences field (meaning I've been studying rocks, etc.).  This has been quite lovely and exciting however identifying myself as an individual within the greater human race has confused my place within the scientific community in my head. Is wanting to reach the next level of success the same thing as finding happiness? If not, which is the more important? These are rhetorical questions of course because there are so many answers. I cop to having heard at least 75% of the possibilities; and I'm not a fan of any of them.

 Bringing us around to the subject of my newest endeavors : cooking. It seems simple, you see. Any woman over the age of 50 will tell you that there is nothing to it. Pained by early success in academics, it seemed to me that I also wouldn't suck at regular, every-day things, like not feeding my very wonderful boyfriend toast that was a little moldy, making oily omelets, or overcooking EVERY meat I lay hands on.  I would just kill for the culinary knack of Ethan's mom.

Let's not overlook my motives for learning to cook. Even though it seems obvious that I would like to be able to feed both Ethan and I without poisoning us, it's more than that. Being able to provide sustenance for those that you love is at the most basic level of human need. We need to eat. But food is more than procuring enough calories to survive; it's a cultural phenomenon. It surrounds us, wraps us up in the everyday ideals of our country, state, hometown, family, and history. And when it's done right, it makes people happy - most importantly. It can be the most simple expression of love.

Since I am twenty-two, childless, and without a square foot outside my apartment to grow a plant besides potted basil, it is my only solace.