As Ameri...I mean, Dutch as Apple Pie

I've been in Amsterdam for the past few days for a wedding and am just about to leave for the airport to get on a plane to NYC. I am so psyched to be on my way there: it's been ten months since last time, which is the largest amount of time I've ever been away. I miss you, USA!

I just took a walk through the Jordaan, and stopped off at Cafe Papeneiland for some of its famous apple pie (which Bill Clinton made even more famous because he had some a few years ago). Say what you want about all of the good old American apple pie I've had through the years, this trumps it. (I actually feel awful saying that, is it possible that my memory for good American apple pie is just not that good?!) The slabs of pie they give you here in Amsterdam are massive, but it's so delicate at the same time- not too sweet, slightly cinnamony, but just a hint of it. Not the kind of pie you need a nap after, just perfect.

American apple pie-lovers, go back to your Dutch roots, you won't be sorry.

In the meantime, I hope you'll still let me come see you even though I think you'll have to find something new to be as American as. I'm just a plane ride away!

Manageable Life

Once again, I find myself going through the papers and knick-knacks that have accumulated over the course of a year, tossing what I think I can do without, and zipping the rest of my life neatly into a few suitcases and bags. This has been my routine at least once a year since I left home at 18 and in some ways, it's really therapeutic, the fleeting feeling that yes, life is manageable, because, look, I packed it up and put it in that corner of my room there, and I will be moving it to another place just as I have decided to do.

Irish Soda Bread - recipe below

And then, of course, life moves on, sometimes with you running to catch up with it, but for a small moment, when the bags are stacked in a corner, you feel in control.

Do you want to go to the seaside?

My guy and I have been talking about heading down to Brighton some weekend to see what it's all about for quite a while.  With my departure for the summer from the UK coming close, though, it looked like it wasn't going to happen: I had plans every weekend I had left before the summer. Then it dawned on me: I am a student.

Brighton Smokehouse Kipper Sandwich - see below

Why not... go on a... weekday?

Duh.

Out Stealing Recipes

I've been living in a student hall this year, my first time ever, and it has had its ups and downs. Downs have been no real living room to socialize in (or to be able to invite people to) and a sometimes extremely messy kitchen. Ups have been being able to eavesdrop on other people's cooking, which has given me new ideas. I mean, living with Chinese, Italian, Indian, Kiwi, Ukrainian, German (etc.) people will inevitably give you some new food impulses, if only through smelling things in the kitchen you're not used to smelling or seeing things you're not used to seeing.