Our Weekend.

Lazy weekends are the best kind of weekends.  Since S is always working, when he gets home we try to take it easy so he can relax and unwind after a long day.  He has to get up so early too, poor lamb.

This past weekend was a really nice, easy couple of days, for me at least.  I lazed about on Saturday morning, watching 'The United States Of Tara' (Have you ever seen that show?  I'm completely hooked and have almost watched all three seasons available on Netflix.  It's weird and it's wonderful, if a little bit unbelievable but hey, escapism is where it's at.) before S getting home and us getting ready to go out for the evening.  We have a good friend who we go bowling with on Wednesdays (for S' league) and he invited us out for dinner to a delightful little Italian restaurant in Bayonne.

It was such a lovely place.  The lighting was just dim enough to hide all imperfections (perfect) and the service was impeccable.  Luckily, our friend was on good terms with the proprietor, being a regular, and we were seated after having to wait only about 15 minutes.  After perusing the menu and struggling with the Italian pronunciations, I decided on a scrumptious meal of chicken breast with prosciutto, fontina cheese and spinach stuffed inside it.  It came with a cute little portion of mashed potatoes and a side of perfectly cooked vegetables.

It was so handsome and so, so filling.  I was truly full after this portion, which was just enough without being too much.  They also provided us with garlic foccacia bread as a free appetiser and it was delicious.  I forced myself not to eat too much bread so I could enjoy my meal (something I am guilty of whenever we go to Olive Garden - oh those breadsticks.).

After our meal, we decided it was time to break in my bowling ball and we headed to the alley to play a few games.  For the first time ever, I hit almost 150 pins and was so proud of myself, I took a picture.

Look at that!  Two strikes!  Which just proves that when you have a ball that fits you perfectly plus an excellent teacher (thank you, S!), you can really smash it and hone your skills.  I think we're going to go back to the bowling alley this week so I can brush up on my game and I am beyond excited for it.

Sunday was another morning of S working, so I decided to bake some banana bread since our fruit was going a little brown.

This is all that went into my banana bread - One and a half cups of all purpose flour, a cup of sugar, half a cup of melted butter, one egg, one teaspoon of baking soda, a pinch of salt and three ripe bananas.  I mashed my bananas but not too thoroughly, as I thought it would be nice to have pieces of banana throughout the bread.  After I combined all the ingredients, I baked it in a loaf tin for an hour at about 350ºF and let my apartment fill with the gorgeous smell of cake and bananas.

Not only was I completely jazzed to see it had baked perfectly on top, but when I turned it out it hadn't burned on the bottom!  Woo!  I self high-fived when I saw it was just right all the way through.  S got in not long after and I served us up a slice each, still warm from the oven.

I love that there are little pieces of banana interspersed throughout the bread.  And I adore how it looks when it's sliced, with those pretty little purple-y pink threads.  I had no idea it was going to look like that when I cut it open but it's so lovely.  I'm excited to see if I can make it again in the same way, but I'd like to add some walnuts or pecans and maybe a little bit of vanilla too, just to spice it up.

We finished off our lazy weekend in the best way ever; Chinese food and beer.

Despite S having to work all weekend, we spent his time off being completely laid back and enjoying ourselves.  Which is really what weekends are all about!  What did you do this weekend?  I hope it was just as good as ours.

Love, K.

Empty Plates, Full Tummies.

It is so hugely satisfying when something goes completely right. Whether it's hitting all the green lights on your way home after a long day or adding the perfect finishing touch to a hand-crafted gift, nothing beats the feeling of 'heck yes, this is awesome'.

In recent times, I've found myself in the role of housekeeper (and, naturally, daytime tv show watcher) and while I thought I'd get super bored playing house, I'm finding I'm really enjoying it. It makes me happy when the bathroom is sparkling clean and the laundry is folded and put away. It's made me more adventurous in the kitchen, too; not that I had a tiny repertoire of recipes but after three months, you find yourself on a weird kind of repeat. I thought I'd outdo myself in my newfound role and prepare something brand new and delicious for S and I. Cue experiments.

Dinner was a variation on a chicken pasta bake. After sautéing onions with garlic, mushrooms, carrots and celery, I added the strips of chicken and gazed into the pan. Usually I'd put tomato sauce on it, plate it with spaghetti and be done. Then I remembered I had a tin of creamy chicken soup in the cupboard. Throwing caution to the wind, I poured it in, adding about half a tin again of water to turn the soup into a sauce.

It smelled glorious. The mix of veggies and chicken cushioned by the comforting scent of 'feeling better' (do you eat chicken soup when you're sick?) was a delight as it filled my kitchen. I added a couple of handfuls of pasta, sprinkled on some cheese and put it in the oven to bake for half an hour. As you can see, we were both very happy with how it turned out.

And what dinner would be complete without dessert? It made me laugh when I asked S if he was ready for pudding (the English standard for anything that comes after your main course) and he replied 'pudding? I thought you made cheesecake?'. After my explanation, we tucked into a slice of creamy, coconutty goodness (the store bought box kind with some flaked coconut added and some chocolate drops to complete the experience. Yes, pudding is an experience.) and we were two stuffed, content people.

It's not often that I go the extra mile when I cook but this meal felt really special and 'grown up' to me. It's inspired me to do the same in the future, to try new things and prepare a couple of courses to chow down on. And I do have to cross off a few more new recipes to complete one of my goals for this year. I hope I can fit another six in before 2014! Have you cooked anything new recently or prepared something a little different to your usual? Did it fall perfectly into place? I hope so.

Love, K.

Keep Rollin'.

For me, bowling was always something you did with your friends on Saturday afternoons when it was too chilly to stay out in the park all day.  It was always dark, the shoes they gave you had been worn by countless others and you weren't supposed to be very good at it, because it was all part of the fun.  I never really took bowling seriously until I met S and he invited me to tag along to one of his league games.  Wow.

I knew that bowling was 'big' in America.  I didn't realise quite how big until I really saw for myself.  Teams of people with their very own bowling balls, made to fit their fingers, their own special shiny shoes and bags to hold all their towels and oils and wrist supports.  It was fascinating to watch each bowler take their turn, lining up their shots, bowling with their own unique style, hooking the ball so dangerously close to the gutter my heart would momentarily stop.  It was genuinely exciting to watch, some games coming down to just one or two pins between a win and loss.  I was on the edge of my seat and completely blown away by just how good these people were at their sport.  Yes, bowling is a sport.  Sort of.

S has been bowling for years and I'm still staggered by his technique and his ability to make the ball knock all those pins down.  I've been spectating his games for years and I've wanted to get involved, despite being an abysmal bowler.  Seriously, the highest I've ever scored is a 105 and I was so proud I took a picture.  Look.

However, there comes a time in every girl's life when she needs to get her own equipment so she can start kicking butt at bowling.  That time came for me a couple of days ago.  I'd like to introduce you to my very own, very shiny, bowling ball.

Despite it being a Strike King instead of a Strike Queen (and despite me not actually having bowled any strikes with it thus far), it's a beauty.  Although I'm not a particularly girly girl, I absolutely had to have the girliest bowling ball available, all pink and purple swirls of shimmering loveliness.  It weighs a rather hefty 11 pounds, which I was reluctant to agree to at first but I've been assured I will 'get used to it' quickly, even though it feels like it weighs a ton now.

Sooooo preeeeeetty.

I had to go through a little measuring process to get the fit just right and when it had all been drilled and polished to a shine, I held it (awkwardly) and it just rolled off of my fingers, which is apparently what it's supposed to do.  Can you tell I'm new at this?  I'm excited to start bowling properly, to have it in my arsenal of secret talents and use it to impress people with.  It'll be fun to get in on the action and it'll be a great way for S and I to spend time together doing something he is passionate about.  It's all good!

Are you trying anything new and exciting?  Or do you have any tips for a brand new bowler?  I hope you have a great week ahead of you!

Love, K.

In The Kitchen.

Do you ever wake up with the overwhelming desire to make things?  One of my first thoughts this morning was 'I should really make a some bread.', so that's exactly what I did.

I like that making bread is a little labour of love.  Activating the yeast, kneading the dough, waiting patiently for it to rise.  It takes time and elbow grease.  You put the work in and it always yields delicious results (even if it doesn't always quite turn out how you expect).  And there are few things I adore as much as the smell of baking bread completely filling my apartment.

Rising in the sunshine.

I used two cups of flour for my dough and loosely followed a recipe (I really need to stop eyeballing things but it's such a lot of fun) so my ball of dough turned out to be rather itty bitty.  I decided that, rather than making a teeny loaf of bread, I'd portion it up into bite-size rolls and bake mouthfuls of yum.

Thankfully, I remembered to move the oven rack up and while the bases of my tiny rolls were slightly darker, they didn't burn!  They were delightfully brown on top, slightly crisp with a rather dense centre.  I let one cool slightly before breaking it open, spreading on butter and a little drizzle of honey.  Scrumptious.

And while the bread was rising, before we settled in to watch 'The Mighty Ducks' (have you seen that movie?  It was my first viewing and I was cheering at the end!), I decided to whip up some pancakes.  Without milk, since we are completely out of milk.

I used two cups of all purpose flour, two tablespoons of canola oil, two eggs, half a cup of water, half a teaspoon of salt, a teaspoon of baking soda and about half a cup of sugar (I have a very sweet tooth).  I found this made a nice, ribbony batter, especially after I left it to sit for a couple of minutes as the frying pan heated.  They were fluffy and sweet and tasted a little like bit like sponge cake, which was quite a pleasant surprise.  We drizzled them with maple syrup, hung out on the sofa and rooted for the underdogs.

It's been a good day making yummy treats.  Have you made anything wonderful today?

Love, K.

Snippets.

Until I find the pennies for a camera all of my own, I currently use the one on my phone to take pictures.  I've been surprised by the quality of the images and have found that since I carry my phone around with me all the time, I'm quite likely to pull it out and take a shot of something that catches my eye.  One of my new favourite pastimes is to sit and look through all the memories I've created since I've been in the US.  I thought I might share some of those with you today.

Sitting by the river...

...and scenery that makes me feel at home.

 

The snazziest bowling shoes...

...the sweetest birthday decorations.

Random graffiti that made me chuckle...

...and enjoying a beer on the brand new deck.

Trips to the pictures...

...mail from friends at home.

Remembering old favourites...

...discovering some new ones.

I hope your weekend brings you memories that you'll look back on fondly.  I think our weekend consists of friends in the evening, Football Sunday (the official title for every Sunday, now) and lots of rest and relaxation.  Have a good one!

Love, K.

Recently.

Things have been pretty quiet around these parts lately, and I think I like it.  Sometimes, S and I go out for trips around the state, explore new places and have little, day-long adventures that sate our appetite for discovery.  Sometimes, we stay in, watch too much T.V. and eat delicious foods that are, really, quite bad for you but oh so good too.

The past few days we've been home bodies, only venturing out to pick up a few groceries or to go to work, do laundry and infamous beer runs.  We watched a lot of football and mourned the Giants losing their first game of the season (I wore a Manning jersey for luck, but I don't think that worked out so well).

Nicely photobombed by our lovely neighbour

We played beer pong (something we don't play in England) and I was pleasantly surprised to be announced the new holder of the beer pong title belt.  All those years of netball training finally paid off!

Slightly blurry but hey, it was beer pong after all

After the triumph and subsequent recovery of the beer pong tournament and the sadness of zero wins so far, we decided the best way to boost morale and fill our empty stomachs was to take my first trip to Sonic, something else we don't have in England.  A drive-in burger joint, like a drive-in movie.  Super exciting.

I perused the menu for an eternity.  Everything looked so good and my grumbling stomach was crying out for something delicious, filling and full of everything you shouldn't eat.  I opted for a bacon cheeseburger (because everything is better with bacon) and the most decadently sinful milkshake I've ever had in my life.

This delightful mix of chocolate and peanut butter completely satisfied me, right down to my core.  For starters, it smelled delicious (I have a habit of smelling everything I eat before I chow down.  I figure eating is a pleasure for all the senses and if it smells good, you know it's going to taste even better.) and for it to be topped so luxuriously with whipped cream, a swirl of peanut buttery goodness and a maraschino cherry made my heart skip a happy beat.

A feast for the eyes and for my tummy.  I was so, so full.  Utterly content.  And I got to cross off another of my 'American stuff to do in America' items from my list.  I've yet to master being able to tie a cherry stalk in a knot in my mouth, but every time I get to sink my teeth into one of those neon red beauties, I always have a go.  You kind of have to.  Can you do it?

I hope your weekend and the start of your week have been wonderful, whether you ventured outside or stayed in and cosy.

Love, K.

Honey Corn Muffins.

I've made cornbread twice before; the first time it was too savoury (I like my cornbread to have a sweet kick) but the second time I hit the nail on the head and it was perfect.   I made it in a square tin and cut it into chunks, just like you get in pancake restaurants and cute little diners.  It was just sweet enough, with a hint of honey, soft and moist and moreish.  I haven't chanced it again since then, for fear I'd never get it quite the same.

S bought me a gift card for Michaels as a birthday gift (so much love <3) and since I didn't have a lot of baking equipment, I bought myself a very nice muffin tin.  And since I bought myself a very nice muffin tin, I figured I needed to take it for a test drive.  And since cornmeal is beautifully cheap in America, it all clicked perfectly into place.  Time to see if I could recreate the deliciousness of my second batch.

I couldn't resist the floral swirls of those cupcake cases, also from Michaels.  The muffins looked very, very pretty.  They smelled beyond awesome.  My whole apartment was a cloud of warm, honey-kissed yum.  I waited very patiently for them to cool and for S to finish work so we could enjoy them with a batch of soup.  I was so excited.

And then I discovered that MY STOVE SUCKS.  Well, it doesn't suck, really.  I suck for completely forgetting that there is only one rack in the oven, that it isn't fan assisted and that all the heat comes from an element right on the bottom.  My one rack in my tiny oven was too close to the heat and, devastatingly, the bottom of my muffins was overcooked, chewy and pretty...ehh.

BUT!  Not to be discouraged, S and I peeled the cases away, discarded the too-cooked bases and nommed happily on the rest of the muffin.  I was pleasantly surprised at how tasty they were, considering I might have eyeballed the recipe more than I usually do.  S said they were good too, and if he doesn't like something he isn't afraid to tell me.

I have learned my lesson; it doesn't matter where the rack is for pasta bakes, lasagnes or roasting a chicken, but it's got to be high when baking delicate things like cupcakes.  No-one wants an overdone bottom, right?  That's what I thought.

Love, K.

New York.

I love the city, and that surprises me.

For three years, during my studies at university, I lived in London and I couldn't stand it. The hustle and bustle that was so much fun, so exciting for my fresh-out-of-school, 18-year-old self, very quickly faded when combined with the tireless noise, the impatience of traffic and the general misery of the public. After a year, I couldn't wait to be back in my home town, near wide open spaces and people who smiled at you rather than scowling. Granted, I have been back for visits and found the place to be pleasantly tolerable. But I really thought I would hate New York.

It is the stuff that dreams are made of. Sure, it's noisy and the people aren't always great, but there is something magical about it. Seeing places in person that I'd only ever seen on TV, eating new and incredible food from street vendors, craning my neck to attempt the impossible and see the tops of buildings. It felt like I could never see it all, that I could spend days, weeks, months just exploring and there would always be something new to experience.  And it's true; while the city feels so familiar to me now, I can never truly know all of it. It's pretty awesome. 

{Peach Snapple...You are my one weakness}

Every time I go, I get that same thrill of excitement as I exit the subway and get my first glance of the city. The rush of sound that greets you is deafening and all you can see is the street full to bursting with busy people; dressed in suits and skirts, briskly walking to meetings or in shorts with cameras idly hung around their necks, absorbing the full NYC tourist experience.  Strolling down the block, those famous yellow cabs bumper-to-bumper in the midday traffic, the glare of the sun from windows in structures that tower above you.  The delight of stumbling across a spot of nature in the concrete, the oddity of flowers and trees blooming and living amidst the grey.

I don't think I could ever live in a city like New York, not after becoming so disillusioned with London.  NYC holds a very special place in my heart and I don't want anything to tarnish it's pretty, bustling, vibrant reputation.  S and I have only been twice since I moved and while I like that not going so often keeps our little outings special, when we leave I always have a hankering to go right back and enjoy it all over again.  After all, as Thomas Wolfe said, 'One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years' and I think it's kind of true.  You take a part of the city with you and you leave a part behind.  Perhaps that is why it is so stunningly vivid, so diverse, so full.

Do you have a favourite city?

Love, K.

Hello.

Starting fresh is always kind of weird.  The blank slate that invites you to write whatever you want on it, to make a new impression.  To rid yourself of the old and encourage a different approach, unfamiliar ideas, excitement and intrigue and adventure.  And while it's awesome and thrilling, it's also terrifying.  While it can be cathartic, letting go of what you know, the familiar and the comfortable, to immerse yourself in a new world is a scary thing.  Frankly, it weirds me out, in both good and not-so-good ways.

In July, after weeks and months and years of planning, I moved all the way from a little town in Kent, England to New Jersey, America.  That's just about 3,500 miles.  A whole ocean away.  Pretty darn far.

All the way from here --------------------------------------------- to here!

As far as moving goes, it was smooth sailing.  Or flying, rather.  I got all my bits and pieces organised and shipped in plenty of time.  I saw my family and friends and said my toodle pip's and arrived in one piece.  I was so excited to get settled and start over, see where this chapter of my life was going to take me.

I've been in America for almost eight weeks now.  I still feel like I'm starting fresh and it still feels kind of weird.  It took a couple of weeks for me to venture out on my own, scared I'd get lost and never find my way home again (though let's face it, all the streets around here are numbered, so it wasn't hard to figure out where I was!) and I'm not yet over my 'paying for things' anxiety; I never know how much tax is going to be charged on top of whatever I'm buying, so I tend to hold my breath as the final number appears on the till.  I've yet to figure out what clothing or shoe size I am.  I'm making a very little dent in my America experience and, while I thought I'd get all this stuff out of the way quickly and immerse myself right away, I'm finding that I like taking it at my own pace, not rushing to do everything at once.  After all, this is my fresh start, and I ain't gonna rush it.

Being in a new place is what inspired me to create a new blog for myself.  I figured that if I'm making a fresh start with my world, I should go the whole way and start documenting it from scratch, too.  It's exciting and it's scary.  Anticipation and trepidation.  My journey is only just beginning.  It'd be awesome if you'd like to come along, too.

Love, K.