traveling eats

The past been month can be characterized by abnormality and franticness.

Finish the semester. Pack up and move out of house at school. Go straight to grandparents' house. Pack up and move that place. Immediately go home. Pack up that house. Get it on the market. Meanwhile, take trips up north to find a job in the city we're moving to. Back and forth. Up and down. Sore muscles. Allergies. Never enough sleep.

Until today... When the chaos paused and the slate of the schedule wiped itself clean. A much needed respite for slowing down, breathing, and feeling. Time and space for God to reawaken my soul and make my heart flutter again. The freedom to read and journal, to curl in and be introverted in order to stretch out again, to skip downtown in the rain for a strong americano and an extended linger in my favorite card shop. And to get back here, a branch of reflection that reminds my tizzied self of the joy laid out in front of me and all around me. My heart is softly mouthing words of gratitude.

You know these times. I'm sure you can recognize the familiarity of disorder, and thus you can relate to the motion of every other part of your life being shoved into the dark corners of the closet, only cautiously peaking its head around the doorway when noise subsides. One of these aspects is undoubtedly food, especially nutritious food. For many, the stomach becomes a nuisance because it yells at us until we are forced to stop accomplishing for just a few minutes in order to attend to ourselves. And though we stop, we are unable to muster enough energy for proper care. Goodness, this is the truth of our household recently. Eating on the fly all the time. Sadly, then, I have no recent delicious creation to share, although I did make a key lime pie last week for my boyfriend's birthday- definitely a favorite in my family circle and beyond. But I'm sure to make it again this summer and thus it will reveal its tangy self here at some point. Preview in the meantime.

So instead of the usual, I've chosen a conglomeration of eating experiences that occurred before I departed from school. Nibbles from road trips and surprise adventures, all tasted in the community of sweet friends.



Last fall, some friends and I planned a day-long outing for our guy friends. Though outlined, it was full of spontaneity, which all could have gone awry except for the guys' unwavering demeanors: parking randomly on the side of a windy road and claiming we found the trail we'd been looking for, encountering a jagged field "perfect" for our picnic, sharing stories in the pouring rain as we made our way back to the car, and apple picking in damp clothes. It was a glorious day. Before we all left for the summer, these guys and others blessed us beyond belief. All a surprise, they drove us a few hours away to spend a night camping on the beach, to feed us delicious food, to make us laugh and to delight our hearts.

They had marinated chicken over a day beforehand and brought all the components for jamaican chicken kabobs. They bought a fire pit for warmth and s'mores, which are always a necessity. There were snacks galore, and the next day they took us downtown to a restaurant called The Reel Cafe, where our table saw shrimp scampi, texas benedict, savory french toast, and shrimp & grits. It was a weekend full of delight brought about by food, an unbelievable sunrise, smoothness amidst imperfection, and conversations about the awe that comes when we reside in the element that connects our souls with the Creator.

Not too long after, two friends and I road-tripped to Athens to a visit a dear friend who had recently moved away. There was something about those three days. The weather was perfection. The city is unique, worthy of exploration. Meals were spent in delight with each other, resting around the table at places like The Grit, Big City Bread Cafe, and Two Story Coffeehouse. Conversations were rich and honest. Sleep was little, but time awake was restful and rejuvenating. Everything flowed in the way I imagine perfection will feel.

The second night we were there, we made dinner at the house rather than eating out. We shopped at Trader Joe's and crunched on chips piled high with homemade guacamole as we grilled cod for fish tacos. We sat on the porch, eating at our makeshift table until our bellies were full, then continuing our conversation on a walk to the grocery for a pre-made pie crust (since our own attempt flopped) and past Bungo the pug's house, relishing the late night sky and the smells of summer that are so familiar and sweet I could cry.

And beauty continued with dessert. Yes, my first experience with rhubarb was delightful. We made a strawberry-rhubarb galette, accompanied by chocolate coconut cream ice cream and hand-whipped cream (whipped with a fork, I might add- a feat I first doubted but later proved me too skeptical, because it worked). While all this was marvelously delicious, it wasn't the food that warmed my heart so abundantly. It was the ease of these friendships. When we arrived home after our walk, two of us started working on dessert, laughing, tossing towels over our shoulders like professionals, and speaking in accents. And our other two friends spent the time relaxing on the newly-bought couch, chatting away and feeling entirely at ease. And it was perfect. We were completely content in the kitchen, they were completely content in the living room. No tension, no burn to prove ourselves to each other. Just freedom and joy. It was a sighting of the ageless beauty that awaits.

Our last meal together was spent at Cali N Tito's, a bustling latin american restaurant where you order at the counter and bring your own beer (though we did not), and where the sandpit full of rugged picnic tables almost convinces you that you're at the beach, even though you're hours from the coast. Here we sipped flavored cuban soda void of high fructose corn syrup, satisfied our cravings with fish tacos for the second night in a row, and finished with their celebrated, juicy plantains, all the while embracing our avid instagramming abilities. It was a wonderful topper to some of the best few days of my spring thus far.

I'm thankful for these times, when amidst the craziness, I receive rest and am reminded of the things that delight my soul. I think there are times when life is allowed to crowd us and yell at us for a while, for the sole purpose of prompting us to care for ourselves again. To feed our bodies and our lives what they need to be nourished back to wholeness, whatever that may be. We need the reminder that we can't do it all, that we were made for rest and enjoyment and rich conversation, so contrary to the solitary independence and ever-achieving lifestyle that society preaches to us. I believe in joy and freedom. And the avoidance of ranch dressing, also known as "America sauce." And eating fish tacos two nights in a row if you want to.

But mostly freedom.