Food Friday: beets, pasta, and the surprise goodness of the two

For my first Food Friday post, I am sharing my newest recipe that I am kind of in a shock over loving as much as I do.  In our efforts to eat sustainably, my husband and I joined a local food delivery service called Door to Door Organics.  They are in partnership with a number of local farmers, and basically allow you to have the highlights of a CSA (fresh, local, organic, and safe food) without the drawbacks of only having it part of the year, or having too much food to know what to do.  We have been having our produce delievered for the last month, and it is one of the best choices we've made food-wise in a very long time.  We love it so much we have passed on the info to quite a few of our friends, and they are all on "OMG I <3 D2D" highs too.  Seriously, if they are in your area, check them out.

One of the more unexpected benefits of signing up for this service, besides saving money on produce, is the fact that we are expanding our palates each week.  There are a lot of veggies that I have not tried before simply because I would stand in the produce section at the grocery store and intimidate myself from even touching the veggies.  I'd look an eggplant and tell it, "You're really beautiful, you are. That isn't the issue with us. I'm just afraid I'm going to commit to you and not treat you like you deserve.  Someone, someday, is going to come along and know how to treat you right. It's not you, it's me."

However, since getting our produce delivered we have tried Eggplant Pizza with mint and feta (great success), Winter Squash (acorn and butternut) soup with carrots and figs (lovely), and Beet and Spinach pasta. 

Last week, we opened our box of produce the day it was delivered and began to plan our meals for the week.  As I noticed the beets I felt the corners of my mouth turn downward and I didn't even know what to tell these poor beets- they weren't even beautiful like the eggplant. How could I break up with them here, like this, after they had come so far? Where would they go? That's when I knew, we had no choice but to try them, the poor ugly roots, they needed us to come through.  I bribed my husband with the promise of ordering pizza if this meal was in fact a complete disaster, and set out to find any beet recipe that didn't initiate a gag reflex.

Lovely people, meet my newest, and might I add prettiest, pasta recipe:
Penne with Beets, Spinach, and Goat Cheese (Adapted From Simply Organic**)

2 bunches med beets (we just used three beets)

1/4 cup olive oil

1 med onion thinly sliced

3 tbsps balsamic vinegar

2 tbsps oregano

2 tbsps chopped fresh rosemary

1 pound whole wheat penne

salt & pepper

6 oz soft goat cheese

3 oz parmesan

1 bunch spinach (we used this instead of the beet greens on the top of the beet)

Cut the greens off the beets and compost them. Trim the tops and bottoms of the beets and put the beets in a large pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook for 20 minutes to 1 hour or until the beets are cooked.  I learned that beets, like potatoes, are done when they can be pierced with your fork with little resistance. When done, remove and run under cold water, using your hands to gently pull off the skins.  Cut the beets into bite sized wedges and set aside.

While the beets are cooking, wash the spinach and chop coarsely - I like how a chiffonade looks, but any form of chopped spinach would work.  Bring another pot of water to boil for the pasta.  

In a large pan or skillet, over med heat, warm the olive oil (we only used a little in the pan, so I don't know if you need then whole 1/4 c.) and add the onion and garlic.  Cook stirring occasionally, for 5 mins or until soft soft and a little carmelized. 

Add the vinegar, oregano, and rosemary and cook for 1 min, stirring to break up any brown bits.  Cook the penne  and then add the spinach during the last 1 min or so of cooking.  Drain the pasta and spinach, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water and return the pasta to the pot.  

Add the beets to the onion mixture; season with salt and pepper to taste.
Mix in the cheese, reserved pasta water, pasta, and onion/beet mixture then sprinkle with some of the parm.  

We went from two people who have scrunched our noses at beets since age 7 to two people who can't stop raving about them.  "OMG, did you know beets are sooo tasty guys?!....Did I tell you about the beet pasta I made? I used BEETS! And LIKED IT!"

**This book is incredible, some of the very best recipes I have ever tried.  It's such a great resource for eating seasonally and locally. One of my proudest purchases!

NEW BLOG FEATURE: Food Fridays!

I have been doing as much research as I can about blogs that people actually enjoy reading and comparing it to what I really love to write about.  FOOD made the list as highly enjoyable material to both read and write about.  Win win....win.

As a big fan of FOOD, both the cooking and consumption of it, I am going to commit to doing a Food Friday post each week outlining a favorite food experience.  It will either be a recipe that I am swooning over, a delicious meal out that made me want to sing, or a tidbit of info regarding my efforts to eat sustainable and affordable food (so that it can be sustainable and affordable for everyone).

(As you might have noticed, I am revving up the blog so stay tuned for upcoming blog fixtures like this one.)

Clouds, Lists and Catalysts ( as well as a question for where you want to read this blog)

I have been exploring the Tumblr blogging platform this past week and have set up a lovelysplendid.tumblr.com.  I love blogging, but I enjoy it doubly when I have comments from readers.  I am curious about where you'd most want to read this blog.  Here on blogspot or there on Tumblr?  Let me know in the comments section, because I'm most interested in staying connected with you people. Pretty blogs can come and go, but it's the people who stick around and read it that make it worth it!

Here is a blog post from the tumblr site:

I am a dreamer for sure. I am not about to deny that.  I'll also admit that sometimes my dreams are so wild and so out there that it isn't very likely that I can get started on them in a reasonable fashion. I am a head in the clouds kind of girl I guess.
I am also stubborn.  Stubborn and usually in overdrive.
Contrasting with my daydream-y, ice cream, fluffy perspectives, I have found that writing something down increases my chances of doing it. Let's go ahead and use the term tenfold in regards to my chances of follow through when I write it out on the internet.  Chalk it up to me caring what others think about me.  Chalk it up to the incredible powers of the internet.  Chalk it up with sidewalk chalk if you want.  I don't know why this is true, but it is and it works, so I'm going with it.
If you check out the My CataLIST link on the top of this blog you'll see my list of things I must do.  It's the catalyst to making my daydreams into memories and blog posts.  I want to see lovely things, do lovely things, meet lovely people.  I believe doing everything on that list will be a good use of my time and talents. Also, a splendid use of this blog space, don't you think?

This is a new direction (read:there is now an actual direction) for my blog, and consequently, for my free time.  I am going to try to do as many things on my list as I can and then I'm going to bring it here and tell you all about it. I want to eat, cook, travel, and live my life the best ways possible.  After all, I might have two blogs, but I only get one life.  Ah yes, that was deep.
Here is where I need your help: I want my list to be a bit longer than it is now, and I'm having a loss for ideas.  What should I do?  What have you done that you have loved and will never forget?  What crazy thing is just too crazy for you to do yourself, but you'd like to hear about someone else who's done it?  Fill the comment section with your list ideas folks. Ready? Go!

A public rant on Birth Control, a "blogged it out to spare the masses" kind of post

 It sometimes amazes me the criticism I get when people hear what type of birth control method I use.  It ranges anywhere from "oh, you're trying?" to "Ah, the cross-your-fingers method, I see."  As if anyone has any place to ask, let alone comment on such a personal thing. However, that isn't even what bothers me the most.  What gets to me is the lack of information out about women and fertility, and the pop-science that so many ascribe to. The reality is that women are still being severely judged for the type of contraception they use, and blamed for unexpected pregnancy.  We have not come quite the long way we had thought, baby.


I use a natural method of birth control, where I monitor my body's symptoms on a daily basis and use barrier methods when fertile. I have done this for 2 years now (knock on wood) and with discipline and organization, I have been child-free this whole time.  This wasn't my first method of choice, but now there is no way I will go back to any pill. You couldn't pay me.

The reason is three-fold: one, it isn't necessary;  two, it may turn you into a freak of nature; three, it's not always a very safe option (read as: class action lawsuits).

It isn't necessary:  Women ovulate one day a month, and that means they are fertile the day before, the day of, and the day after.  Doing the math, 3 of 30, we are fertile 1/10 of the month.  Men, on the other hand, are fertile everyday.  Everyday. 30 of 30. 10/10. It is in fact the fertility of men that makes the window of conception a little longer. Since sperm can live up to 5 days in the right "environment," the fertile time period is extended to about 10days in total.  About 5 days before ovulation and 5 days after.  I love men, I love my husband, but the simple science here is that it is on you, guys. It's on you. Am I going to take a pill 365 days a year to cover for my 36 days of fertility? Nope. You go on ahead. Thankfully there are options  that don't require over-medicating one of your partners.

It may turn you into a freak of nature: The side effects of the pill suck. My personal experience was that the pill made me the angriest, most weepy little flower on the block.  I was getting mad at the laundry and thought my professor wanted to fail me because I hated horror films. My brain was undergoing massive horse hormone therapy treatments everyday so that I could assure everyone that "we're waiting" "I'm just too irresponsible to be a mother, so we're being responsible with the pill." I'm sorry, please tell me what is responsible about subjecting yourself to a list of side effects that reads like an obituary?

Please read and observe this side effect sheet for me: (Borrowed directly from the Yaz website) "OCs can be associated with an increased risk of several serious cardiovascular side effects, including blood clots, stroke, and heart attack...leukorrhea, diarrhea, vomiting, vaginitis, flu syndrome, moniliasis, allergic reaction, cystitis, tooth disorder, sore throat, infection, fever, surgery, back pain, migraine, dyspepsia, rhinitis, acne, gastroenteritis, bronchitis, pharyngitis, skin disorder, intermenstrual bleeding, decreased libido, pain, increased cough, dizziness, pain in extremity, and pelvic pain."  

How liberating. What is better is the outright rejection of the male birth control pill.  Most men prefer to use another form or even risk the pregnancy.  I once read an article about this where a man basically said the following: “I would rather rely on a solution that doesn’t involving medicating myself and the problems women have had with hormone therapy doesn’t make me eager to want to sign on to taking a hormone-type therapy.” Lastly,  I would be remiss if I don't mention that I suspected the pill worked purely by inducing celibacy. Just saying.

Recap: the round the clock fertile male prefers not to take a pill with lesser side effects. So the default responsibility falls on the woman, obviously, since she is fertile 10% of the time. Leukorrhea anyone?

Finally, it is still dangerous.  Hormone therapy is still developing as a science, and carries a high risk with it.  As a 23 year old woman with little to no health problems, aside from the occasional cold, I don't think I am willing to submit myself to hormone therapies likely to lead to more problems than I had ever dreamed of.  However, a lot of women do submit to it, thinking it is their only option. When issues like the Yaz pill lawsuit arise it feels just a little too late.  Women have DVT, pancreatic cancer, and I know a woman who had to have her gall bladder out, to take the pill.  It just isn't always a great option.

In a time where we have established women as an equal players on so many levels, why is the pill the standard form of birth control?  Why are women who opt out ridiculed? Why does the school nurse talk to teenage girls about the pill but not about the intricacies of her cycle?  This is a major point of frustration for me.

All that said, I was conceived on the pill.  So, "most effective form" that.

Soap Box Done. For now.

Creative Mindercising and Getting Arty

Lately I have been hopped up on the ideas of art and creativity and the way that they advance culture.  Now, some Boulderites are going to pull out their hair, stomp their feet, and possibly spit on the ground when they hear me say these next words: Boulder creativity is rather stale. I mean, broke in college, napping on the couch, see a Wheat Thin on the coffee table, bite it and chip your tooth. That stale.

Don't panic if you audibly hear something right now.That sound you are hearing is the collective gasp and a few shouts of "Heretic!" from the yuppie masses.  You can hear them clearly because they are all out on the patios, listening to the ambient drone of String Cheese, Wide Spread Panic, or OAR.  Drones of the jam band variety, occasionally peppered in with "Redemption Song."  Oh Bob Marley, if only you had known your lyrics would be displayed on so many luxury SUVs. 

I know there are creatives in this town who do art outside of political motivation;   who play music that doesn't make me want to cry as middle aged men and woman flail their arms and kick in spasms  dance on the Pearl St. bricks; who do not think that close up photography of columbines mixed with wild grasses are the highest form of art.  While those things can be nice for a mountain town or hippie vibe, I think that there is much more to be explored.  I think there are people who believe in art as a progress-or, and even occasionally the aggressor, when faced with ignorance or stagnant perspectives. I know that I do.

I'm going to start out on a creative mindercise regimen (because I'm not really a fitness writer, I tried, it ain't me babe).  There are a number of exercises, creative espresso shots, and inspiration-based blogs and forums that I am going to draw from to spelunk the funk in my brain.I have invited a few others to do this with me on a Facebook group page at this link. We have completed our first project: Create a flier of a typical day and post it around your neighborhood (or post it in the photos section of the group). I have to say, for such a simple and potentially one-dimensional assignment, the creative approaches and streams of consciousness that my friends produced was inspiring. It solidified my theory that there can be a resuscitation of the arts in our community.  I'm excited to see Boulder grow this into something, and then one day (oh please oh please!) Boulder can be known for something in addition to it's reputation as a liberal  (add to that, mmj) mecca.

Check out some of the art postings from this week, and if you would like to join our group, welcome pal.

**I only put a couple up here, to see the rest, visit the Facebook Group page...it may become its own blog in the near future... stay tuned Lovely People, stay tuned.

No Regrets

We've all been there.  Standing in the parking lot, peering into our bag as if we expect something new to materialize. We ask ourselves "Do I need this? Do I really need this?" And for most of us we shake it off, close the bag, and walk the rest of the way to the car.  Others of us allow the buyer's remorse to occur while standing in the produce section of the grocery store.  We say to ourselves "I do love the butter lettuce, but dangit if that iceburg head isn't going to save me 39 cents. What will I tell my friends when they find out I buy fancy lettuce?!" I wish I was joking.

Walk across the parking lot from the grocery store to a Broomfield tattoo parlor, and you'll see what I did this Saturday.  If I were able to title the event, it would be called "Valentines Day 2010: A Gift of Epic Awesomeness and General Badassery."  It is the most literal title available for my day.

It began with an email from my friend that went a little something like this:
"So, I think I'm going to act on a impulse and get [name changed]'s initials with a heart tattooed on my butt for Valentines (no, I'm not joking). I'll probably do this tomorrow afternoon or Saturday.
This is not the kind of thing I want to do alone."

and a thread continued on to the tune of:

"Ohmyhahaha that is amazing.  I will come hold you hand and laugh. At you."

"If it's less than 50....I could maybe be persuaded"

"I haven't quite convinced myself to actually go through with getting the tattoo.  Listen, it's not because it's against my religion or anything I just think it might hurt my precious baby butt."

 "guys I'm getting a real one. I'm getting an anchor because it looks like tyler's initials and more reasons.  But i'm doing it because if I don't do it right now, I'll chicken out again. Sorry to go emo."

and finally:

"I am so excited about this I could not sleep last night. I am totally in to get the name on the ass. Should we make an appt. somewhere?"

Translation: 5 married women with either jobs or children or both tattooing names/initials in hearts, on cheeks, for a gift. Yes, David, this is real life.

After an eventful night of marriage curses, phone calls, and text messages from a tattooist   man-child, we found our parlor, our price point, and our cover stories for our husbands for the afternoon.  A decoy meet-up at Target, a little caffeine, some Michael (Jackson, if you have to ask) and we were ready to the dang thing.

Does this story get better? Oh yes, yes it does.

We get to the Big Easy (real name) and are greeted by Paul, who would be our artist for the day and would proceed to tattoo the initials of my friend's husbands on to my friend's individual tushers, as my younger brother calls it.  One by one, each girl drew the heart and the initials (think of your high school notebook, but grown-up, very grown-up). Then we'd all giggle and coo around the chair our friend was laying in, effectively mooning each of us, and braid each others' hair to distract from the pain.There were a  few comments of  "At least it's not like a real tattoo," even though it most definitely was. It was the hipster version of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, or more like the Ya-ya Twisted Sister Hood. Holla Dee Snyder!


Once each of my friends were brandishing a hilariously wonderful Valentine's day gift on their ba-donks (it's amazing how many euphemisms I can think of for that body part), it was my turn.  I brought over my little drawing, and rolled up my sleeve.  Then, I braced for impact.  I might have asked a few times "This isn't a boy's tattoo right? Because I don't want to look at a boy tattoo everyday." I learned, that even girls can be sailors. Frick.

The gift reveal was a success, and despite being 2 hours late for our fancy V-day party, everyone was really stoked on the day. It was one of the best Saturdays I've had.  Even if I look at my arm when I'm 50, and say "what was I thinking?"  I'll remember the day and lighten up, because I still can't believe how much fun it was. Also, if I don't think it's awesome when I'm fifty, someone needs to remind me that I used to be fun, and had really, and I mean really, great friends, and I need to relax.

About the buyer's remorse.  Well, that was to be expected.  And as you can see, it is on my wrist.  My wrist that I see about 200 times a day.  My wrist that I can get way too close to my face and stare at every imperfect pore, not to mention not so straight lines or asymmetrical anchors.  I may go back and get it perfected, but I also may just leave it as is.  A souvenir from a day I went out-with one day's notice- with friends to get a tattoo in honor of my hub, that will also always make me think of them.

Ahoy mateys!

A Winter Rant Turned Beauty Blog

Hello lovlies and hi there splendids. I have to say sorry for my sporadic writing.  I gave my blog a little kiss of death when I included it in a New Year's resolution.  I mean, if you enjoy something giving it a deadline is kind of a fun-sucker.  Fun-sucker aside, I have been kind of going through a bog of sorts lately.  And I don't feel bogged down, oh no, I got to keep on moving.  I just feel like the past week or two I have been slogging through some grimy mud, and my attitude is less snarky and more bitchy cynical. Bo-ring. However, thanks to a solid stretch of time with some truly fabulous women this weekend, I'm feeling fresher than The Situation.

As I have mentioned on my blog ( here, and here) this winter is really full of itself. This winter is embarrassing Al Gore.  This winter makes me agree with Kenneth Parcell when he says "Global warming? Sorry, sir, that's just scientist talk." And yet, four months and 90 (gross) inches of snow later, we still have at least three months left of this windy, dry, dry, run.  Everything is dry. Just look at this current picture of me, and you will get the idea. I am researching and compiling a list of necessary items to carry on.

Here is what I have found so far:

 Hair Care- because it's too cold not to use a hair dryer.

•  It is hard to think about the tops of our heads when we think about moisturizing and skin care, but that's a whole lotta derm to ignore. Mix in hair styling products, blow dryers, and Colorado's climate, and whoo boy! If it were possible to use shea butter or jojoba oil directly in my hair, I would, but to my dismay (my utter delight) the emo look is finally going out. Luckily, I was recently told about Scalp Benefits shampoo from Aveda.  It moisturizes and balances the pH of your scalp as well as the roots of your hair.  In only a few uses, I can tell you this is my winter shampoo from here until I move to Hawaii -- which may very well be tomorrow. (I paired it with the Pure Abundance conditioner, so that I could still style my hair. Priorities friends.)
  
•  If your issue is hair damage due to the unfortunate fate that we face: going out in the cold with wet hair means you will be rocking a head of icy dreadlocks; then you should try a heat protecting product. Aveda Damage remedy has coconut oil and quinoa protein to restructure the straw-like strands that can appear this time of year (I used to love Therma-Silk, where for art thou?).

Skin Care - even alligator skin on shoes is heinous.

• I have taken to a bi- or tri- weekly exfoliating routine, and it's really made a big difference.  I have really sensitive skin, and so I am using a rice-based micro-foliant from Dermalogica, but I'm pretty sure that any exfoliation is good.
• Moisturizers have me stumped. This is actually the inspiration for the entire blog post. I have consulted a few estheticians about what kind of facial moisturizers are needed for this weather and have been told that "intensive moisture" is best.  Here are three I have read reviews on here, here, and here, but ultimately I am clueless. (Tell me your favorites in the comments section).

Other Remedies

• I have finally committed to drinking more water, and when I can't do the water I'm drinking more tea.  They say caffeine is a water usurper, and if they only knew how much coffee I drink they would probably give me a time out. Drink up.
• I have a humidifier in our bedroom and it is a total gem. My eyes and skin love me when I remember to use it.
• And if all else fails, blow your savings on a tropical vacation or join me in sending the National Weather Service emails asking them to turn the heat up.
  

P.S. I know global warming isn't a joke, but it doesn't mean I don't think it's funny to always reference it.

P.P.S. I use CFLs and ride the bus.