Review: Millennial Kosher by Chanie Apfelbaum

I love me some free stuff, and cookbooks are among my most favorite things to get for review. The thing about cookbooks is that I rarely buy them because when there's something I want to make I usually Google the recipe. It's easy, it's fast, I'm presented with millions of options ... but sometimes it's nice to have a physical book in hand while meal-planning for the week (I say half-jokingly because I'm trying really hard to do this and failing pretty miserably, mostly because my kids are jerks when they come home from daycare and all they want is string cheese and yogurt).

When I got the email to review Millennial Kosher by Chanie Apfelbaum, the creator of kosher food blog Busy in Brooklyn, I was pretty skeptical. I feel like anything labeled "millennial" is bound to be terribly stereotypical and ridiculous. While I waited for it to arrive, I envisioned everything topped with a fried egg or mixed with kale or featuring some kind of bizarre ingredient no one has ever heard of ever -- except in Brooklyn, of course.

The cookbook arrived and I cracked it open with my typical -- millennial -- skepticism. My reaction, which I said, out loud, to my husband, and then Instagrammed (because I'm a millennial)? "I want to make this! And this!"

Yes, I flagged pretty much every page that didn't require me to do a weird gluten-free substitution (and, of course, I didn't flag any with meat because that's not how we role at home).

First up? These deliciously pickled red onions. I don't normally pickle things, but when it's this easy, I couldn't not pickle them. I put them on everything. Just like a millennial would, of course. Salads, sandwiches, tacos, you name it.

Then, I made these ridiculous easy Tempeh Tacos for dinner, and while I tried them in a lettuce leaf, the family tried them in taco shells. Then they tried them in lettuce, and they decide they were actually a lot better in the lettuce than in the taco shells! Textures play well together, and Chanie knows her stuff. Next time, they'll trust me. This is a picture of the tacos, and below it is a picture of what the tacos were supposed to look like. Sometimes I'm on point with my food photography, and sometimes I just really, really want to eat and don't take time to take awesome photos. 

Then? Then I made the Peanut Butter Granola. Now, this is my favorite thing ever. I'm pretty lazy when it comes to everything, having three kids under 5 and all. I typically buy granola, but the gluten-free stuff is stupid expensive. Making my own would make so much more sense, especially when I buy the giant bag of gluten-free oats at Trader Joe's! This peanut butter granola is divine when paired with yogurt and some jelly. It's like eating a PB&J, but better. 

So good. I actually also threw some in a blender with almond milk and a frozen banana and a bit more PB powder and oh my goodness PB goodness for breakfast. 

Last up? For this post, I mean. Not the last thing I made. Because I have made all the things, and the things I haven't made I intend on making with a delicious vengeance. The final thing I want to show you is this Pad Thai Bowl, which uses quinoa in place of the noodles. I made it all fancy for Shabbos presentation, and the family devoured it. In fact, I think I'm going to make it this week because it was super fast and easy. Nothing like pleasing the whole family with one easy, nutritious, quick dish, especially on Shabbos. 

Basically, when Chanie says millennial, she means we're busy, we're overworked, we're hungry, and we just don't have the time to make gourmet food that's delicious and nutritious. This cookbook has something for everyone, and the recipes are easy to follow and are sure to please a crowd. My recommendation? Add this to your bookcase and embrace what it means to be someone who practices the art of Millennial Kosher. 

*****BUY THE BOOK*****

So I Had a Baby

I haven't blogged since before Pesach, and the truth is that I'm in the longest blogging drought of my life. The funny thing is, back in February I started a new job as a copywriter and editor for a most amazing, completely remote inbound marketing company, and I had thought this would inspire/prompt me to get back to writing regularly. Guess what? I was wrong.

I don't think it's the work that's prevented me from writing more regularly. Instead, it's probably the fact that I was pregnant and tired trying to raise a 4 year old and almost 2 year old. And then, on April 9th, I gave birth to my third at 12:18 am after roughly 17 hours of labor and about 11 minutes of pushing. Eight days and many lost hours of sleep and anxiety about feeding decisions later, we named the addition to Team GB. The name? Zusha Tzvi.

Hey. I'm six weeks old!

I spent the next few weeks sitting around the house going bananas out of boredom during my four weeks of unpaid leave. Then, I got started back up with work earlier this month.

Mr. T, an epic Tatty, was downsized from his electrical gig the night before I went into labor (nothing like coming out of Pesach to a voicemail that you no longer have a job right before your wife prepares to take four weeks of unpaid leave), which means he gets to stay home with Zush until childcare kicks in on June 4th. Then he'll be taking his master's exam, please Gd landing a job worthy of his 10+ years of experience, and all of the stress and anxiety about affording life with three kids will wash away and be a thing of the past.

Hopefully.

Mr. T is also with Zusha all night because I have to attempt sleep and have the headspace to work eight hours every day. Epic Tatty. Epic. But I hear everything at this insane volume in my house. I hear Zush when he cries and Asher when he sneaks out of bed and the TV and sneezing and fans and toilets flushing and cars outside and the neighbors. Oh, and all of the thoughts in my head about being inadequate because I'm not home with my baby and not up with him and night and that I decided for my own mental health to put him on formula. I'm given the space to sleep, but I can't.

The thing about Zush is that he's my oopsie baby. I didn't intend on having three kids. I didn't want three kids. And not wanting three kids and now having three kids gives me immense guilt because I have so many friends who struggled/are struggling to have any children at all. I'm a jerk because even today, in my postpartum haze of regret and exhaustion, I keep thinking "Why me? Why did I have a third kid?" And someday, he'll grow up and if the internet still exists he'll read this and probably hate me for it and end up in therapy. Mission complete!

I'm also guilty because I keep counting down the days. The days until childcare kicks in, the days until I can sleep train him, the days until he's eating solids, the days until he's sitting up on his own, the days until he's walking, the days until ...

Everyone says "Oh cherish these days! They go too fast!" and it's true. I look at Asher, and he's suddenly so grown up. Tirzah, too. I can barely understand her half the time. Last night, after school, the two of them played "family" in Tirzah's room for a full hour. Uninterrupted, without arguing, while I fed and attempted to calm down the bipolar new baby.

I sat on the couch in the living room watching them, far away, lamenting that I was outside their world. That I couldn't really be a part of it because bringing the screaming baby into that universe would mean I couldn't really focus on them. It made me sad. They're at an age that I want to be in their world all the time and hearing the stories and wild fantasies and really experience their imagination with them.

But I can't. I have a newborn. And they'll remember the rejection. They're old enough that they'll remember the prioritization. And that kills me.

I love my kids. All of my kids. Zusha is the spitting image of Asher as a baby. It makes me miss Asher as a baby (but not really because he had terrible colic). But Asher's a big kid now and he's so good with Zusha. He can calm him down when he's screaming in a way I can't.

I also seem to be attracting spiders at every turn. I'm trying not to buy into the idea that something appearing constantly in one's life is a sign of something, but seriously with the spiders.

Guilt. Inadequacy. Spiders. These are the hallmarks of motherhood for me right now. It gets better. I know that. I'm just wondering who I'll be when I feel normal again.

Delicious, Quick, and Easy Coconut Cookies - Gluten Free

I'm so pregnant I'm ready to pop, so Passover this year was pretty low-key. But my one crowning achievement was this recipe, which was based on another recipe, but honestly I didn't have enough coconut and I thought it had way too much sugar and I was missing one of the ingredients. So I took a swing and it was a huge home run with the family. Ready?

Ingredients

• 1 bag Trader Joe's Unsweetened Flake Coconut (8 oz)
• 2 egg whites
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp vanilla (or almond extract)
• 1/4 tsp salt (not the table variety)
• 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prep two cookie sheets with parchment.
2. Mix the first five ingredients in a bowl. Let it sit for 5 minutes.
3. Give it a good mix and add in the chocolate chips. 
4. Pop on some gloves and start gathering roughly 1/4 cup of "cookie dough" in your hands. Squish the mixture together in your hands to create a mound and pop it on the cookie tray.
5. Push it down just a bit. 
6. Continue with the rest of the dough. 
7. Bake for about 12 minutes, then switch the sheets and bake another 6 minutes until the edges and tops are browning. 
8. Take out of the oven and let cool completely. They'll harden and be crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. 

Enjoy!

Five Years Later ...

Tatty said, "Roar like a lion!" Mommy, of course, is a party pooper. 

Today, on the Gregorian calendar anyway, marks five years that Mr. T and I have been married. Last night, we were assessing the reality of our five years, and, let me just say ... a lot has happened.

• Five years
• Five addresses
• Two countries
• One broken foot (me) and one broken arm (T)
• Six cars
• Four pregnancies (Did you know Tirzah is a rainbow baby?)
• Nearly three children born (I'm due with No. 3 in two months)
• More than a dozen full- and part-time jobs among the two of us

We managed all of that even with Mr. T being stuck outside the country from October 1, 2014 through July 4, 2015. 

How? How is it possible to have been in so many places and created so many lives in so little time? I honestly don't know. It feels like it's been much, much longer. I feel like I've known Mr. T my whole life. It's only moments where he and his friends start talking about things that happened back in 1999 in yeshiva at Aish in Jerusalem that I remember I was in high school at that time. I remember that Mr. T had a whole life before me, another marriage, a beautiful son (who is now an intelligent, Minecraft-obsessed teenager figuring out who he is), a career in the circus, and so much more. 

We've come so far. He still juggles. I'm still tired. 

And yet, here we are. Mostly in sync most of the time. I joke with Mr. T that after this baby is born and it stops breast feeding, and as our kids continue to grow, he won't know who I am. I've been pregnant or breastfeeding pretty much the entire time he's known me. Those two things mean hormones, hormones, and more hormones. It makes me wonder if he'll be able to handle whoever I am after having gone through all these pregnancies and births and child rearing and job changes and anxiety and depression and everything else. He's resilient and positive, a smile and laugh to balance wherever I am and however I'm feeling. And for that, I believe he'll always be here, and for that I love him. Who else would put up with me? 

---

For five years, the oft-lived gift involves wood. If you know us, or you've been to our house, you know that wooden things are our jam. We love natural frames and art, so this anniversary was right up our alley. Mr. T also celebrated his 40th last month, so my birthday gift to him was a nod to our anniversary as well, in the form of a rocking chair a la his beloved papa. I've also ordered something else, but it hasn't shown up yet, so no spoilers there. He got me a beautiful engraved wooden recipe box because I'm at a point where there are a handful of recipes I make on a weekly rotation that I haven't committed to memory just yet. We also just redid our floors (wood laminate) and bought a new hutch that is, well, wood. 

Anyhow, wood is a beautiful metaphor for many things, and I think it sings to who we are as a couple and family and where we are together. 

“Wood, if you stop to think of it, has been man’s best friend in the world. It held him in his cradle, went to war as the gunstock in his hand, was the frame of the bed he came to rejoicing, the log upon his hearth when he was cold, and will make him his last long home. It was the murmuring bough above his childhood play, and the roof over the first house he called his own. It is the page he is reading at this moment; it is the forest where he seeks sanctuary from a stony world.” ― Donald Culross Peattie, American Heartwood

Happy five years together, my beloved Mr. T. Here's to so very many more together in happiness, growth, and acceptance in all things.

What is Nittel Nacht?

With few exceptions, Christmas is a fairly dull day for Jews around the world. Christmas Eve, on the other hand, has some unique traditions. The most well-known is probably that Jews in the United States have popularized the tradition of eating Chinese food and viewing movies on Christmas Eve, and this custom has seeped into cultures throughout the world. But it is Nittel Nacht that is the most unique of them all. 

Meaning and Origins
Nittel Nacht originated in the 17th century and its name is difficult to decipher. Nacht is German for "night," but the term Nittel's origins are less clear. Here are a few suggestions:

• Natale Dominus, which is Latin for "The birth of our God"
• Natal, which has roots in the Hebrew for "to have been hanged" or to "be taken away"
• Nolad Yeshu Tet l'Tevet, which is Hebrew for "Jesus was born on the ninth of Tevet" (and whose acronym would be NYTLT. 

The latter is likely the most accurate, although it still makes the overall translation a bit obscure.

The term Nittel Nacht originates from the 16th or 17th century when Jews were prohibited on Christmas from public appearances and studying the Torah, particularly because most at this period didn't have books at home with which to learn, and going to the synagogue or house of study was a dangerous prospect. Thus, learning and any errands were put off because Jews feared pogroms. In some places, where the treatment of Jews was particularly harsh, rabbis urged their congregants to extinguish all lights throughout Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to be extra careful. 

Likewise, Jewish mystics during the period believed that marital relations on the day would result in apostates, so rabbis of the time forbade such relations. Similarly, mystics forbade studying Torah because Christmas was considered a day of widespread adultery and Torah study contributes to goodness and light in the world, making the day itself and the act of learning incompatible. 

There have been some suggestions that the game of dreidel arose as a quiet indoor activity because Chanukah and Christmas often fall in close proximity, with the two holidays often falling at the same time (Shem Mishmuel Vol 2 p.75).

The Customs
In addition to the above customs, there were countless others observed in different communities, including

• Playing cards, which was frowned upon by some halachic authorities
• Playing chess, which was the practice of the Chabad rebbes Menachem Mendel Schneerson and Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson (Or, you could just watch The Queen's Gambit, amiright?)
• Tearing toilet paper for Shabbat use throughout the year (there is a prohibition against certain types of tearing on Shabbat)
• Reading Toledot Yeshu, a parody of the Christian gospels
• Organizing the family finances
• Reading secular books
• Sewing

How To
In modern times, because Jewish-Christian relations are not nearly as tense as they were during the Middle Ages, the practices of Nittel Nacht are not as widely observed. Likewise, in Israel and other Sephardic communities, the custom never took hold, and even those communities from tense regions in Europe who fled to Israel didn't take the custom with them. 

In fact, there are many communities who intentionally study Torah on Christmas Eve to show that there is no longer a fear of Christian uprisings and pogroms of the past. Nonetheless, some Orthodox communities (specifically Chabad) still observe Nittel Nacht and the one consistent custom across the board is to not study Torah (in some cases just until midnight) and to participate in activities that exercise the mind (like chess). 

Bonus Fact
Interestingly, in the regions where Nittel Nacht was developed, there was no such thing as a Christmas Eve that fell on December 24th. Instead, Nittel Nacht was observed around January 6th or 7th.

Note: This was originally published on December 23, 2015 on About.com, which is now known as ThoughtCo. Since then, this content has been removed from the website. 

Recipe: Cinnamon Bun Pie

Great news, everyone! I got permission to post the recipe for the Cinnamon Bun Pie I can't stop raving about that I mentioned in my review of Real Life Kosher Cooking. I'm going to post the straight recipe and then, at the end, I'll include my substitution notes. If you make this, let me know what you think!

Ingredients

1/4 cup oil
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
3 eggs
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups flour

Cinnamon Filling
1/3 cup ground pecans
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 Tbls cinnamon
1/4 cup oil

1 graham cracker crust

Cream Cheese Glaze
2 ounces (1/4 package) nondairy cream cheese
1 1/4 cups powdered sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 Tbls soy milk

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Prepare the batter: In the bowl of an electric mixer, on medium speed, beat together oil and sugars until combined and creamy. Add eggs, one at a time. Add baking powder and vanilla, beating well to combine after each addition. 
3. Turn mixer speed to low; gradually add flour. Beat until combined. Set aside.
4. Prepare the filling: In a small bowl, combine filling ingredients until smooth. Set aside.
5. When filling pie crust, be careful to add each layer very gently, so you don't break the crust. Pour 1/4 of the batter into the graham cracker crust; use a flexible spatula to smooth the top. Top with 1/3 of the filling. Smooth the top.
6. Repeat the process, ending with the batter. Note that the batter will be hard to spread; you can make fewer layers so that it's easier to assemble.
7. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until top is set. It's meant to be soft in the center, so don't over bake it. 
8. Prepare the glaze: Combine glaze ingredients in a small bowl. Whisk until smooth.
9. For best results, serve warm. Drizzle glaze over each slice just before serving.

Notes

• I used Cup4Cup gluten-free flour as a substitute, and it worked perfectly. I also substituted a gluten-free graham cracker crust. 
• For the glaze, I used regular cream cheese and regular milk. 
• I used pecan pieces instead of ground pecans, and it added a nice crunch to the pie. 
• When "building" the pie, I found the best/easiest way to assemble the pie was to use gloves and smooth the dough out in the pie pan. A spatula just didn't do the trick. 
• This pie freezes well, so feel free to freeze it!

Purchase your own copy of Real Life Kosher Cooking now on Amazon!

Cookbook Review: Real Life Kosher Cooking

I'm back! It's been a while. Like, a really long while. Life is busy, I've had a cough for about six weeks now that I'm so, so, so over*, but my energy levels are slowly building back up, so I've been cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

I recently received a free copy of Real Life Kosher Cooking by the amazing Miriam Pascal of The Overtime Cook for review, and I was so excited to dig into this cookbook, mostly because the title suggests some quick, easy, "real life" recipes for busy folks like you and me.

When I get cookbooks for review, the first thing I do is dig through the cookbook quickly to see whether there's a good balance of vegetarian recipes and desserts mixed in with the typical meat recipes. Since we're vegetarian at home, it's important that a kosher cookbook offer up plenty of options for those meatless evenings. Likewise, I like to see if the meat recipes are easily convertible into vegetarian dishes using mushrooms, tofu, and other easy substitutes.

Guess what? This cookbook has it all ... and you won't spend all day in the kitchen.

Next up, I pick out a few recipes that I think I'll love (okay, that my family might enjoy, too), and in this case, I zoned in on one recipe in particular: Cinnamon. Bun. Pie.

Yes, I'm gluten-free (not by choice, believe me), and this Cinnamon Bun Pie recipe was screaming my name. I love love love love love cinnamon rolls. Back when I lived in New Jersey and traveled into the city almost daily for school at NYU, I'd walk past that Cinnabon in the bus station and die. Like, just melt. Not only wasn't it kosher, but it wasn't gluten free. Since then, I've attempted to make gluten-free cinnamon rolls, I've tried (and tried again) the Udi's Cinnamon Rolls, and I've been nothing but disappointed and irritated with the amount of work that goes into making my own.

Enter Miriam Pascal and the Cinnamon Bun Pie! Now, her recipe isn't gluten free, but with two easy substitutions (Cup4Cup flour + a gluten-free graham cracker curst) ... *poof* ... gluten free. I don't know how the regular, gluten-y dough works out in this recipe, but with the gluten-free version I found that the easiest way to "build" the pie was to pop on some gloves, spray them with oil, and press the dough into the pan. It made it so easy to build the pie, especially the second layer that needed to be spread around, and it got me closer to baking and eating it.

What can I say? This is hand's down the most delicious cinnamon roll I've ever tasted in my life. The center of the pie stays moist and gooey, while the edges bake into that perfect crispy, crusty cinnamon roll that you want to douse in more and more frosting. I was apprehensive about the graham cracker crust, but it plays perfectly into that cinnamon goodness. The other great thing about this pie is that it's incredibly rich, so small pieces with plenty of frosting go a long way. Even my husband enjoyed it. I might cut down on the amount of sugar the next time I make it (like tomorrow), but otherwise the easy is exactly what you're looking for:

Easy.
Quick.
Delicious.
Kosher.
A real crowd-pleaser.

Of course, after I made the Cinnamon Bun Pie I realized I needed to sample a few more recipes, preferably of the savory variety, to balance out my love of sweets and desserts. With Shabbat on the way last week, I decided to go Asian. I made my own recipe for Garlic Roasted Eggplant and paired it with two recipes from Real Life Kosher Cooking: Garlicky Roasted Mushrooms and Snow Peas + Sauteed Cabbage and Vegetables.

These two recipes were the perfect centerpieces for our Asian Shabbat dinner. The mushrooms and peas had an excellent crunch and plenty of flavor, while the cabbage and vegetables truly tasted like the insides of an egg roll. I do think next time I'll do something to add a bit more texture to the cabbage, because my husband commented that it was missing a bit of crunch and a bite. In the cookbook, Miriam does say that both of these dishes are best served fresh, and I did warm them up for Shabbat dinner, but the integrity and flavor of both of the dishes stood up to being reheated.

I'm eager to try so many of Miriam's other recipes in this cookbook, because even the recipes that look challenging turn out to be extremely quick and easy (I'm looking at you, Cinnamon Bun Pie).

Have you seen this new cookbook? Which recipes from The Overtime Cook are your absolute favorite? 


*If you're a mommy who has given vaginal birth, you're totally feeling for me right now.

Oops, I did it again.

Coming in April 2018.

Conversion, Genetics, and my 23andMe Story

This might be my longest posting gap ... ever. I haven't posted in two months. The excuse? Honestly, I don't know. I have three days a week to myself, where I drown myself in the part-time work I have and running errands against the clock before kids come home and my level of energy for the day crashes at crazy fast rates.

Sigh.

But here I am. Inspired, just a little, to say something. I got a notification from 23andMe.com, where I got some genetic testing done a few months back, to participate in a storytelling mission. Although they didn't accept my story, I thought y'all might want to read the short story I wrote about why I sprang for the 23andMe adventure.

The greatest impetus for me to do 23andMe was to find out if I had any Jewish ancestry, because I chose more than 10 years ago to journey into becoming a Jew. I converted to Judaism, and like many converts, I was immensely curious whether there was a hidden and lost thread of Jewish history in my family background that was trying to peek out through me. For many converts, finding that thread validates their choice to take the complicated and emotional path into conversion. I had done my family's genealogy and found lineage back to the 1700s on both sides thanks to my uncle being Mormon and there being massive research already done on my family. But despite my deepest digging, I only found one mysterious relative who was Polish, and I thought "maybe this is the connection to Ashkenazic Jewry I'm looking for.

Then I got my test results back. Not a lick of Jewish ancestry! As I suspected from my research, lots of British, French, and German in my background, but that's about it. I am, through and through, European, but not Ashkenazic in my genetic background.

In one sense, I was disappointed. I had hoped to find that thread, to know that I had picked up the thread. In another sense, I was proud to know that my compulsion to convert to Judaism and become a member of the Jewish people was truly authentic, completely my own. That it arose out of a place hidden for thousands and thousands of years, as the Jewish tradition says that every soul that converts stood at Sinai and accepted Torah. So, it appears my soul was there. But my ancestors were not. 

And that, friends, is my 23andMe story.

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Additionally, although I didn't say it above, my secondary reason for doing 23andMe was because I was hoping to find maybe some weird genetic marker for an illness or disease, something with insight into what my father has been dealing with for the past several years that remains undiagnosed. Alas, no major markers for any of the diseases or illnesses they catalog. Aside from being prone to being overweight, my genes are pretty good to go.

So, if you'd like to hop on the 23andMe bandwagon and see what your genetics have in store, click here and get a kit (referral link). Then, let me know what you find out!

The SAHM Experiment: I really suck at being a mom

I don't have enough fingers to count the amount of times today that I yelled at my 3.5 year old to "just leave me alone, I'm trying to do something!"

This kid, who is so aggressively extroverted and who has the imagination of a science-fiction writer thrown in a blender with a fantasy writer, just wanted some attention. He always wants my attention. He never stops talking, even when I'm not in the room. I find him talking to himself frequently when I'm not around, especially if I'm in a bad mood. I am 99 percent positive he is talking to me, but he feels so bad when I growl, "What do you want?!" that he just says he's talking to himself.

During this whole SAHM Experiment so far (we're technically on week #4), I've had some amazing days and I've had some really lousy, "Why am I filled with so much rage toward such tiny people?" moments. It's been demoralizing, embarrassing, and it's given me a terrible bounty of guilt in which I continue to ask myself, "Seriously, you're a mother?"

The thing is, I can easily pinpoint why I suck at being a mom sometimes. It's easy for me to know when I'm going to lose my mind and be a total jerk to my kids. The one thing that causes me to go off the handle and treat my kids like they're employees in The Devil Wears Prada?

Work.

And it's not even like it's earth-shattering, deadline-driven work. It's not like I'm racing to cure cancer or something. It's "Oh did you post this to Facebook?" or "Hey can you let us know when you can finish that flyer?"

Yes, people have businesses to run and livelihoods to consider, but at the end of the day? None of this is an emergency. These adult people won't remember in a month whether a tweet went out at noon or if a Facebook event got posted two weeks prior to the even or three weeks prior to the event.

But my kids? My kids. Sigh.

I'll be honest in that I don't remember much about my childhood. The moments I start remembering are the ones that are painful, hurtful, the ones that make me angry. Why is this? I don't really know. Did I have a terrible childhood? I don't think so. My mom stayed home with us, my dad had a decent job, and we were comfortably middle class until I was in middle school. After that, I remember everything, but what brooding, angsty teenager doesn't?

I have so many regrets about the past two weeks. Not so many about the two weeks we were in England because I was completely and utterly shut off those weeks. I didn't dwell on Facebook (I just plastered photos of my awesome trip) or Twitter, and I didn't obsessively fall down the Wikipedia rabbit hole. I conversed, I schlepped, I read, I watched British quiz shows, I relaxed, I just was. I was with my family. And it was good. I had patience, I had kindness, I had understanding.

I didn't once tell my kids to shut up because I was working and just needed to finish this one ... last ... thing.

So why do I struggle to prioritize? Why did I sit on my computer this morning instead of sitting at the table while the kids chowed down? Why did I fidget with my phone nervously checking emails instead of ignoring my phone and engaging my kids in something they wanted to do? Why am I so anxious all the time about whether there's something I'm supposed to be doing but I'm not?

I never wanted kids. I always remind people of that. I was always career-minded, career-driven. In one timeline, I would have been on the copy desk at The New York Times by now. Maybe even running the show. Unmarried, living in midtown, my spare time spent in coffee shops and book stores.

When I met Mr. T that all changed. I wanted kids, I don't know why. I wanted kids and to be someone important and influential. I wanted to be a career woman with kids and a happy husband and a perpetually clean house and at some point I was convinced I could do and have all of those things.

What a crock.

The thing is, you can't have it all. Because when you try to have it all, something, someone, usually gets left behind. As I stay home with my kids, all day every day, and as I flee the moment my husband comes home when I can in order to regain some sense of who I am, and as I cry in the car listening to "Glycerine" by Bush and thinking of high school and how I wanted so desperately to be a writer someday ... I realize that I have to stop running at full speed.

I'm 33, almost 34. I've got time. I can't rush through it all and miss something, or someone. I don't want to scream at my kids because my attention is misplaced. I don't want them to see me that way. I want to be able to capture every ridiculous moment and second of who they are.

Yesterday, Little T was eating ants in the backyard. Today, she ate sand at the park and then came home to eat day-old macaroni off the floor. She loves having her neck tickled and kissed and she does laps in the house like it's going out of style. She's so smart. You can ask her to do anything, and she knows exactly how and what to do. "Go get your shoes," "Go find your doggy," "Take a drink of water, please." She's going to rule the world, she is.

Today, Asher told me a story about a "Very Tired Mommy" and her extravagant adventures kicking things, and it somehow ended up with a duck and a policeman. We played a game where he put a Target diaper box on his head and we pretended it was his house, so I'd knock on the door with a Duplo Joker figurine and the Joker would try to sneak his way in. He thought it was hilarious and we did the same thing, over and over, for a half-hour. He's brilliant, my son, creative and silly to excess.

I can't imagine missing out on who my kids are now. I can't wait to someday tell them about the way they were. I just hope they look back and, if they remember, they can say I was good to them. The best I could be.

Review: Garden Lites Veggie Chili & Cornbread

Once upon a time (in 2008), I spent quite a bit of time on Weight Watchers while living in Chicago, and I managed to lose about 25 pounds in that effort. I did this through a pretty strict way of eating, not because I had to, but because it was easy and quick.

I ate a lot of Lean Cuisine, Subway, and some specific meal options from Trader Joe's (I miss their chicken fingers and potato wedges, I'll be honest). Those Lean Cuisines were a gift when I was hungry but couldn't muster the energy or brainpower to make something, but then?

Then I went kosher. Unfortunately, the kosher world has yet to properly hop on the "prepared frozen meal" bandwagon. This probably leaves hundreds of thousands of kosher-keeping Jews out in the dark when it comes to having a healthy, quick, and easy resource for lunch at work, while traveling, or when you're just too tired to come up with something to eat that isn't gross, disgusting kosher fast food (if you're lucky enough to live somewhere with kosher fast food).

Then? Then Garden Lites came on the scene. Their products are both kosher and gluten free, which is amazing for someone like me, and they're delicious, which is a tough thing to find in a lot of prepackaged kosher products in the U.S. They had, for awhile, some little souffle-style options, but to be honest, they weren't filling; they weren't a meal.

So, to my amazingly happy and giddy utter surprise, while recently at my local King Soopers, I spotted them ... on sale ... through February 2018!? Holy Moses. Yes, I spotted this:

I bought two boxes of the Veggie Chili & Cornbread (because I love veggie chili) and a box of their Mac & Cheese, too. I was going to do a video review of this, but, well, I was hungry and I inhaled it in all of it's fresh, delicious, non-frozen-food-tasting glory.

I was most amazed by the cornbread, because gluten-free cornbread is often stiff, crumbly, and tasteless, but Garden Lites somehow managed to make the most fluffy, fresh-tasting cornbread I've ever had. This meal doesn't taste like it came out of the freezer, and that's what I love about it the most. The cheesy topping was oozy-gooey, and the chili had the perfect amount of kick, reminding me of a standout Chili Cook-Off-style recipe.

Overall, I'm really impressed with Garden Lites, and I'm really thankful, too. It's not easy being kosher and gluten free sometimes, because there are a lot of convenience foods that are just lacking. Yes, I love getting in the kitchen and whipping up Gnocchi with Eggplant and Mushrooms with a Radish Green and Purple Basil Pesto (no, really, I made this for dinner last night), but with both kids running around during the day, I need something quick, healthy, and filling.

Garden Lites, you've done it. You've finally done it. Please, whatever you do, don't ever lose your kosher certification. I couldn't get through this Stay-at-Home Mom Experiment without you!

(Thought: I might buy a bunch of these and serve them up for Shabbat and see what happens ... is that crazy? Maybe, but, come on, until Garden Lites makes a family-size version of this, what's a mom to do?!)

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Product Details:

Ingredients: veggie chili (diced tomatoes [tomatoes, salt, citric acid], black beans [black beans, water, salt], onion, crushed tomatoes [tomatoes, salt, citric acid], zucchini, broccoli, red bell pepper, green bell pepper, roasted corn, sugar, corn starch, canola oil, lemon juice, sea salt, garlic, chili powder, cumin, ancho pepper, chipotle pepper), gluten free cornbread (corn, egg whites, brown rice flour, sugar, corn meal, corn starch, monocalcium phosphate), soluble corn fiber, chili powder, salt, xanthan gum, cheddar cheese(pasteurized cultured milk, enzymes, salt). Contains: eggs, milk. Gluten free, peanut free, tree nut free.

Nutrition: (10 points on Points Plus WW System)

Gary Vaynerchuk, Expectations, and the Year of Chavi

I have about a million topics I'd love to write about, and, at some point, I will. It probably won't be any time soon because I'm essentially taking the next month off for family, travel, and more family. But after that? I'm hoping to have a completely clear picture of what I want.

Basically, here's what's happening:

• I'm pulling both kids out of daycare for the rest of the summer. They're home with me until August 21st full time. (I'm nuts!)
• When the kids go back to school, they're only in Monday, Wednesday, Friday, so they'll be home with me on Tuesday/Thursday, and I'm officially going to be a SAHM.
• I'm refocusing my professional world on writing, so I'll be submitting pitches, articles, and hoping to revitalize this blog to the glory it once was ... except it'll probably be a lot of "Holy Crap What Have I Done?" posts. 
• I'm giving up 90 percent of my social media jobs in order to focus on all the above items. Also? I'm pretty much over social media for business. It's a moving target with zero satisfaction 99 percent of the time. 
• I'm shutting my LuLaRoe business down in early August (unless some magical epiphany changes my mind). I've been doing it for a year now, and it hasn't made any money and I've fallen out of love with the business model and the hustle. I love a good hustle, but not this one, because it feels like I'm drowning most of the time. When I'm 100 percent in the thick of it, I am happy, but I can't be 100 percent in 100 percent of the time, and that's what the job requires.  So join the Facebook group and stay tuned for the GOOB sale. 
• We're going to turn the LuLaShed into a She Shed/Guest House, so come visit!

Whew. 

The small jobs I'm holding onto on a consistent basis are going to be a test on my nerves, but I'm holding onto them for good reason. Financially, we still need me to have a consistent monthly income of some variety, because even PT daycare is crazy, unbelievably, unnecessarily expensive. And I'm trying to really focus on the following to get through it all (and yes, I made this graphic):

You see, my problem, even as a contractor, is that I'm constantly disappointed in everyone around me. I have major expectations for everyone, except probably my kids. Oddly enough, my children are the two people in my life who I sort of look at and say, "Nah, they're good." Mr. T was trying to teach Asher how to catch a ball and he wasn't grasping it and I was like, "Whatever. He wants to just play and be goofy, let him." I don't expect Asher to be anything. I know he'll be something, and whatever that is will be awesome because he's such a uniquely unique kid. 

But my husband? I have a million expectations of him. I expect him to clean the dishes in the sink when they pile up because, come on, common sense, right? I expect him to throw laundry in when it's overflowing. I expect him to not leave clothes laying around on the floor. I expect him to put down his phone when the kids are whining and need attention. I expect a lot from him, and I'm always disappointed. This means tension and a lot of unhappy grumpy moments. 

My clients, too. I'm always disappointed in my clients. I have crazy and often ridiculous expectations of everyone. It's not because I'm a snob or holier-than-thou, it's because I believe in a hardcore work ethic and quality. I believe so hard in the hustle and producing amazing, quality work that is practically perfect. That's just how I'm wired. But because of this, I'm disappointed by everyone all the time, and it's probably why some people think I'm a jerk or a snob. Honestly, it's me, not you. 

I usually don't verbalize my disappointment because I know that other human beings are not like Chaviva the human being, so I truck along and often do more work or faster work or internalize all the anger/frustration/disappointment until I melt from the inside out. I take on all the things in order to do them right and in the best way possible, because I get to a point where I think, "No one can do this the way I know it should be done so that the world can accept, love, internalize, and be changed by it." 

Over the past several years, I've gotten better, slowly, but surely, at letting things go. At holding the "Not my circus, not my monkeys" philosophy. I've gotten better about stepping back from things and letting other people man the ticket booth and clean up the messes. It's hard, but I do it. I swallow my thoughts and disappointment and frustration and let it happen. It's hard. It's really, really hard for me. It's why I often work for free or for less than I should, because I know I can do it right, and I can do it quickly. 

But it's also resulted in people undervaluing my work, or not wanting to work with me at all. 

So I read this article by Gary Vaynerchuk, who I consider G-d's gift to people like me. He's at a point in his career where he can say quite literally anything with as many expletives as humanly possible and it's a punch to the gut and people love it. They want more of it. I see a lot of myself in him, but I'm a million years away from Gary Vee is, so I just borrow and internalize his wisdom. Relevant now:

It’s not about being disappointed that people can’t deliver. It’s not a cynical and negative point of view. I actually think it’s a very optimistic point of view. It speaks to my internal confidence and internal gratitude and empathy. Having zero expectations is a cognitive trait that has lead me to become more independent. I don’t need anything from anyone else. I’m not expecting anything. It’s just the way it’s always been. As I get into my early forties I can clearly see it’s been one of the reasons that I’ve been successful in life, let alone business. When you have zero expectations, everything else is just a pleasant surprise.

This is beautiful, because it's better. It's the best. When you have expectations, people will always disappoint you. When you have no expectations, you'll always be surprised, and being surprised is a positive, fun thing. Who doesn't love coming home to a clean house or a giant cake with sprinkles and balloons and all the good and happy things? Nobody, that's who.

So life is changing for me right now. I'm going to write my heart out, I'm going to stop expecting things from people, and I'm going to love my life and stop drowning in stress, disappointment, and anxiety.

It's the year of Chaviva.

A Life in Pieces: Am I a Mommy Blogger?

My greatest fear in life is becoming irrelevant. The answer from my Facebook friends, as suspected, was that I'll always be relevant ... to my kids.

When I tell people that I never wanted to be a parent, that's the absolute truth. I was terrified of the parenting mistakes I would make, a product of my environment and all. I was afraid that my anxiety and bouts with depression would be terrible for a child. I was worried that my professional pursuits would always make a child play second-fiddle, resulting in them growing up and hating me. I suppose they're all natural fears or anxieties about having kids, but after my first marriage ended rather depressingly, I realized I probably wasn't going to get married again, and I probably wasn't going to ever have kids, and I was truly okay with that.

But then, of course, the narrative knows that I met Mr. T, got pregnant right away, and now I have two kids (after swearing the moment Asher was born that I'd never have more because of how traumatic it was). And then, after Little T, and juggling two, I once again vowed to never, ever, ever, ever have kids ever again. And I'm okay with that.

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When I started this blog in April 2006, an amazing eleven years ago, I was almost at my Reform conversion, graduating college, and heading off for my prestigious Dow Jones News Fund internship at The Washington Post. I spent a year in Washington, D.C., alone, miserable, and depressed. I walked away from that internship-turned-full-time job without reservation. People told me I was crazy, that people would kill for that job. And now, looking back at that decision to leave, and seeing colleagues still there during all the Trump drama, I have to wonder if I missed out. I loved writing headlines, I loved finessing the copy of amazing reporters who were terrible writers. I was good at what I did.

I left DC for Chicago, for a boy, and ended up spending a little over a year working at the University of Chicago as the "everything girl" for Nobel-prize-winning economist James Heckman. That 24/7 job is what forced me into attempting Shabbat observance, to deciding to pursue an Orthodox conversion, and to applying and entering graduate school for a master's in Judaic studies from 2008-2010 in Storrs, Connecticut.

During my time there, I met my first husband, got to catalog and inventory hundreds of donated books, including an impressive collection of haggadot, and to fully immerse myself in Judaism and Judaic literature that I so miss. Those were years where the only work I did was schoolwork, because my hours spent cataloging weren't really work, there were a joy. I taught freshman, I graded papers. It was a dream. It gave me a glimpse of a future I thought I could have in academics, as an educator, a researcher, a dreamer.

Then I got married in May 2010, we moved to New Jersey, and I started up at NYU, pursuing my second and third master's degrees in Judaic studies and Jewish education. A year later, my marriage was over, and the academic program was a repeat of what I got in Storrs, so I quit and skipped town for Colorado.

After a year in Colorado working for the Colorado Agency for Jewish Education, paying off all my debt, and finding myself after going off the derech and back on, I made aliyah in October 2012. While in Israel, I found work as a content writer, social media manager, and wife. But the paid work was inconsistent and unpredictable, my father was sick, and we ended up back in the States in April 2014.

My work in the U.S. was inconsistent until April 2015 when I got a job at a Silicon Valley startup, and I worked there for two years, while taking side projects and freelance one-off gigs to supplement my income. I left that job in February and have been floating since then, dreaming.

Dreaming of being a full-time writer.

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The thing about Mommy Bloggers, is that they're usually Stay-at-Home Moms who have the fodder of finger painting and playdates to inform their posts. Many turn their blogs into money-making enterprises with product reviews and sponsorships. For some Mommy Bloggers, writing is a full-time job, and every moment of life is a potential post waiting to happen.

I took the plunge and the kids will be home with me for two full weeks in August when we return from the UK and, starting August 21st, they'll be home with me every Tuesday and Thursday. My calendar is already full of events through the end of the year: Free days at the museums, library reading time, etc.

The question, I guess, is whether I'll get lost in moments with my children or turn my pen toward being a Mommy Blogger. The angle?

Career-Focused anti-Mommy turned SAHM Mommy Blogger

Yes, the kids are still in daycare three days a week, but my professional pursuits are sort of in limbo right now. I'm over social media and digital marketing. I'm not interested in that grind anymore professionally. I'm still all over it for my personal "brand," but professionally, I don't find great joy in hustling for others.

So my days alone will be writing, writing, and more writing. Cooking. Reflecting. Hopefully just enjoying what I have, where I'm going, who I am.

Or, maybe, figuring out who I am at all and whether being relevant really matters.

The One-Third Life Crisis: Full-Time Hustle to SAHM?

I kind of feel like I've been in a one-third life crisis for awhile now.

Professionally, I've been working in social media since the dark ages. Since leaving The Washington Post 10 years ago, my professional self has existed in the realm of social media, digital marketing, and content, in that order. I spent years hitting lists of influential Twitterers and bloggers, and I turned my personal success in the social sphere into a career.

At first, it was Jewish nonprofits, and then it became for-profits, and then it was more Jewish nonprofits, and, eventually, I ended up working for a well-funded hardware startup in Silicon Valley. It was my dream turned reality, and I was happy. I had autonomy, I was bought into the brand 100 percent, I believed in the vision and the dream. I loved my job. I really, really loved my job.

That job ended in February for reasons that I cannot and will not get into here, and since then, I float through my days with giant question marks above my head. I know that I no longer love social media. It's a 24/7 slog of work that just goes and goes and you never really hit your target. There's always something else, something bigger, something new you have to do to stay relevant.

When my most recent full-time job of two years ended, I realized what I really wanted to do was write. Writing has always been my #1 passion. I've got journals going back to first grade. I used to do slam poetry. My blog used to be an every-day pursuit, sometimes with a multi-day posting schedule. I had so much to say, so much to share with the world.

Now I'm slogging at a few part-time social media gigs, and I'm basically working to pay for childcare. It feels like I've got the boulder on my shoulders and I take one step and fall down under the crushing weight of the rock.

I spent a full-time week doing part-time work, and I fill those hours with my clients because -- even though it's part-time work -- what else am I going to do? I apply for jobs, I pursue and bid on content gigs, and I'm not getting anywhere. My happiest, best day recently was when I wrote a blog post for MazelTogether, and it went up into the world.

The reason I love content is because you research it, you write it, you edit it, you post it, and it's out in the world. Your job is done. What happens after that is up to SEO and SEM masters. Your words fly, they ripple, they're out there. You don't have to constantly hit the copy over the head for months on end trying to make something happen.

So I'm at this weird juncture in my life crisis. We can't afford to continue with daycare at this rate, and I can't continue doing work that isn't satisfying and is only paying the daycare bill. Mr. T is working a more lucrative job now as an electrician (his life's work, it's what he loves B"H), which gives us a bit of leeway, but not much. But every penny I make goes back into daycare, which just doesn't make sense anymore. Especially if I'm not happy, right?

Thus, I'm toying with bringing the kids home part time. Or maybe even full time. I'm not sure yet. Maybe I'll get a nanny (they're cheaper than daycare), or maybe I'll keep them in daycare part time so they can continue being the amazing, social creatures that they are. I'm not cut from the FT SAHM cloth, I know this. But something's got to give.

And, as Mr. T keeps telling me ... I need to reset.

I've been going and going and going and going since, well, since I was 13 (nearly 14) years old and got my first job. Whether in school or working or both, I've been hustling for 20 years. And I'm not happy with it anymore.

I know having my kids home will allow me to focus 100% on them because job responsibilities won't bog me down. I'll be more active and hopefully lose some weight and get healthy. I'll be a present mom and get to enjoy all that my littles have to offer.

At the same time, I worry about losing relevance. I worry about falling even further out of touch with the digital world that nurtured me all these years, that gave me a platform and space to be Chaviva. I worry about not being in the hustle. I'm a working girl, I'm a Lady Boss. I work hard, even when I don't have to or shouldn't. It's just who I am.

Or, maybe, it'll just give me room to grow as a writer. Maybe all that time with my kids will make great fodder.

I need to reset. I need to stop planning everything out. Man plans, G-d laughs, right?

The Introverted Mom with the Extroverted Child

I've been hustling hardcore to find work as a writer these days. It's what I love, it's what I'm best at, and it's what I should be doing with my life. Luckily, some brave souls are biting and taking me up on my writing chops.

Up today on MazelTogether:

Catastrophizing and the Sweat Lodge Cafe

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Denver, Colorado. It's a coffee shop I frequent, although I haven't been here in a few weeks because I was in NYC for work and then the kids were scratching my ankles for a week while daycare was out of session for Memorial Day and Shavuot.

Now, I'm sitting here, watching the clock countdown because I've got to leave and get to a meeting at 10 a.m. The coffee shop is baking, and I probably shouldn't have even stayed because it's uncomfortably warm.

"It's a new thing we're trying," the barista jokes. "The big shvitz!"

I start conceptualizing. There are cat cafes and rat cafes and maybe there should be sweat lodge cafes.

I've been here about an hour after the longest daycare drop-off ever, and I've got basically two weeks of work to catch up on.

And now, there's someone, or something, tumbling around on the roof. Two of the baristas went outside about 20 minutes ago to try and figure out what it was.

"I don't see a ladder," one said. "So that's weird."

The tumbling and banging is right above my head, and I'm conceptualizing again. Or, rather, I'm catastrophizing.

I can't remember where I read the term, but I immediately realized that there's a name for what I've always called Sense of Impending Doom Syndrome, or SIDS for short. Yes, I know there's already a thing called SIDS, but there we are.

I have this ridiculous tendency, and I've been like this since I was a teenager. I might have started this even younger, but I remember it becoming somewhat debilitating as a teenager.

What I do, is I calculate and conceptualize every possible negative outcome of a situation. Some people do this with major things like skydiving or flying, but I do this with the every day, the minute moments that most people don't even think about. I do this walking down a sidewalk, where, for example, if I see a crack in the pavement I assess the options of what could happen.

1. I could trip and fall flat on my face and chip my front teeth. Or they could fall out. 
2. I could trip and fall and end up in the street, getting run over by a car. 
3. I could trip and fall and break my wrist trying to break my fall. 

You get the gist. It's anxiety to the nth. 

So here I am, catastrophizing. Anticipating the inevitable reality that this person is probably working with heavy machinery right above me and will fall through the ceiling, crushing me, as I sit here narrating the entire incident. Will I be able to hit Publish before he hits me? Will I die? Will this be my last great gift to the world? 

Or will I make it to my 10 a.m. meeting?

Wherever I read this term, this concept of catastrophizing, there was another concept discussed. Instead of pondering all of the negative outcomes, consider the positive outcomes. 

Now, how exactly do I get myself in the headspace to do that. And if I were in that headspace, what would the outcome be? 

I'm seriously stream of conscious writing this here, and I just realized that the guy on the roof is probably fixing the A/C, which is probably why it's a million degrees in here, and if he fixes it, then I won't be baking and that would be awesome. Yay positive outcomes! On the other hand, by the time he gets it running I'm probably going to be out of here at my 10 a.m. meeting.

Either way, a sweat lodge cafe is a terrible idea. 

Diving into Mrs. Beeton for a Questionable Chocolate Bundt Cake Recipe

I recently mentioned wanting to get a bundt pan to my husband. I don't remember why exactly, but it seemed like something I needed to do, especially after making the most epicly delicious Sweet Potato Cake from an old IKEA cookbook that I bought ages ago and never used until recently. It's actually less a cookbook and more of a guide to great kitchen living, with tips on using scraps and how to sort your produce. It's more of a coffee table book chock full of delicious, Nordic recipes. The Sweet Potato Cake recipe was a huge hit with my munchkins, even with my gluten-free substitute flour. 

But back to the bundt pan.

When I mentioned it, my husband said, "Oh, I have a great recipe!" He led me into the kitchen to his ancient copy of Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management, a mainstay of the British world, and pulled out a barely legible chocolate bundt cake recipe written on a scrap of paper. 

We’re going out for Shabbat lunch, and I'd offered to make dessert, so make the cake I did. But not before calling and/or messaging him a half-dozen times to verify aspects of the recipe. 

"How much is in a 'packet of baking powder' exactly? We don't have packets of baking powder in America." 

“5 teaspoons of baking powder, seriously? But only 1.25 cups flour? Really?”

"The recipe says milk, but there's no milk listed in the ingredients!"  

"Really, only 1.25 cups flour, really?" 

I'll admit I fudged a bit and doubled the amount of cocoa powder it called for because it just didn't look chocolatey enough. After I got it into the bundt pan and into the oven, I made another half-batch of the batter because I didn't believe it was going to work. I put the half batch in some mini bundt pans I'd gotten and into the oven it all went. 

When I pulled them out, I was skeptical. I took a taste. It's not half bad, for being a questionable scrap-o-paper recipe made with gluten-free flour. It's not as sweet as American cakes, but honestly that's probably a good thing. 

"Let me make it," my husband says. "With real flour."

[Above written before Shabbat. Below written after.]

Luckily, the Shabbat guests loved the cake. It was different, but super tasty. We also checked in with his mum after Shabbat and found out that her packet of baking powder actually contains only 3 teaspoons of baking powder, so that might make a difference. 

Also, over Shabbat, there was discussion about the name of the pan used to make the bundt cake, and Mr. T swore up and down that there was a different name the this mom used for the pan. After Shabbat, he asked, and lo and behold, he wasn't making it all up:

So here's the recipe transcribed, in case you want to make it yourself in a gugelhupf or bundt pan:

"Choc Cake"

Ingredients

1 1/4 cup flour

2 Tbls cocoa powder (original recipe called for 2 tsp, but we asked; it's Tbls)

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup water

1/2 cup oil

2 eggs (possibly 3, we still aren't sure)

1 packet baking powder (in UK, and the note says, "if not self raising" ... this = 3 tsp baking powder)

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees C.
2. Grease tin.
3. Mix flour, sugar.
4. Add mix, oil, and eggs.
5. Bake for 35 min approx.

Notes: 

• It turns out self-rising flour is preferred in the UK, but whatever you have should work.
• I used Cup4Cup Wholesome Flour for this recipe. 

IKEA Sweet Potato Muffin Recipe

Once up on a time, I loved eating at the IKEA cafe. When I went kosher, this was no longer a possibility, until I lived in Israel, where, you guessed it, the cafe is kosher! I miss those inexpensive meals of salmon, green beans, and french fries ... ah, those were the days.

Now, my only peace of mind comes from being able to use the IKEA Cookbook to craft some delicious nosh that, honestly, you'd never find in their cafes anyway.

But, to be honest, this isn't necessarily a cookbook. It's more of a "how to have an amazing kitchen and respect the planet, yourself, and your kitchen" book. The tips in this tome are impressive, thoughtful, and universal.

The bummer is that it seems this book -- Our Food, Naturally -- is no longer available, and for that, I apologize to you, because you're missing out. The photography just jumps off the page at you, too.

And now? On to the recipe simply called ...

"Muffins"

Ingredients
7 oz roasted yams
1 cup soft butter (room temperature)
1/3 cup strained yogurt 10%
1 1/4 cup plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
3 oz coarsely grated apple with peel
1/2 cup white sugar
3 eggs, whisked
melted butter for the cups

Directions
Put the yam flesh, butter, and yogurt into a food processor and blend. Put the mixture in a bowl and sieve in the flour and baking powder. Mix together and whisk the grated apple, sugar, and eggs into the dough. Divide the muffin mixture into cups (roughly 1/2 cup) greased with a little melted butter. Fill with mixture to 1/2 inch from the edge. Bake at 350 degrees F for 25-30 minutes or until they feel firm and are golden on top.

Notes:

• I ended up roasting two medium-sized sweet potatoes, which was actually enough to double the recipe. So one medium sweet potato should do the trick. 
• I used Greek yogurt in this recipe. 
• For the flour, I used Cup4Cup as a gluten-free replacement. 
• I very rarely mix ingredients separately, because I'm a lazy cook. I just there everything into the KitchenAid mixer and let the whisk attachment do the rest. 

Back in NYC: This City Isn't What I Used to Be

Being back in NYC for the first time in ... something like five years, but really we'll say six years because the truth is the last time I was here I was in a hotel at JFK passing through on my way to Israel, feels like a dream.

Six years ago I was living in New Jersey and commuting in to NYC every day to attend NYU, where I was pursuing my second and third master's degrees in Judaic Studies and Jewish Education. It feels like a million years ago, honestly. And being back here is just surreal. I forgot what life was like "in the city" and I'm only here for 24 hours for work.

It's possible that my entire experience is probably grumpily painted by the fact that my flight was delayed twice and ended up getting in more than three hours later than anticipated. It's also probable that the fact that I arrived in the city close to 10 pm and nearly every kosher restaurant was closed or closing plays into my annoyance at the city. And then when the food I did order showed up it was breaded instead of gluten free, leaving me food-less and hungry after being in airports all day with nothing by nuts and hardboiled eggs.

But I digress.

The noise, the hectic bustle of these streets is something I'd forgot about. Or, it's possible, the noise is less aggressive down south near NYU where I spent most of my time. Up here, near Times Square where I stayed, it was an overnight constant of car horns and garbage trucks and police cars and music. This morning around 5 a.m. it was jackhammers and yelling. And I heard it all as if it were happening next to me in bed ... from the 15th floor of my hotel.

Awake, showered, hopeful, I stepped outside into the swamp. I don't mind an 80 degree day or a 100 degree day, as long as it isn't humid. I don't do humidity. I don't do sweating and sticky grossness. It's one of the reasons I truly love living in Denver. I walked a few blocks, shoving my way through vendors attempting to get people onto bus tours and to shows they don't want to see, and it was funny because not a single one of them even attempted to talk to me. Suitcase in tow, is there something about me that says, "I'm not a tourist"? Something determined or focused on my face?

I'm seriously narrating to myself as I walk. All of this. Then I hit this place called Greggory's Coffee, and here I sit, waiting for a 2:30 pm meeting that was supposed to be a noon meeting. And then off to the airport to fly back home. But this time? I'm flying out of JFK and not the ramshackle, looks-like-it-was-set-up-overnight-in-a-mad-dash LGA.

I don't know if/when I'll be back in NYC. Something about the hecticness of the city makes my social anxiety activate. My typically confident and determined personality feels confused, rushed, out of sorts. There's something about the noise and the dirt and the people ...

I didn't used to be like this. I can't imagine brining kids into the city. I'd fall apart.

Honestly? I can't wait to get back to Denver. It's clean, crisp, quiet(er). I've aged, obviously. I've gotten older. I'm only 33, but feeling this way about a city I once thought would be my long-term home makes me feel ancient.