Tortellini Summer Salad

Last week, as a thank you for granting her access to my Amazon Prime account, my darling older sister (there’s a darling younger version too -- see below) sent me a cookbook I had “saved for later” in my Amazon shopping cart. It’s called Super Natural Every Day, and I cooked my first recipe from it two nights ago. 


Me and my sea-stars on New Year's last year. 

Usually this is where I would put a tantalizing photo of the colorful and gorgeous salad. You would see the lemon-garlic-olive oil dressing shining off broccoli as green as a rainforest. You’d see an avocado so perfectly ripe and yellow-green that you’d write to Essie to request a nail polish of its color. The striking picture would have you feeling the texture of the ricotta-filled tortellini on your tongue, and you’d swear you could smell the mint exciting your senses. You’d pin it to Pinterest under your “Make This Tonight” board. 

Welp, no such picture exists. The lemony-minty, crunchy-creamy combination possessed me long enough that by the time I thought to snap a quick jpeg, the whole batch of the satiating summer salad was resting happily inside our tummies. So, you’ll just have to make it yourself!

Here’s the recipe. (Note: I got everything I needed at Trader Joe’s.) 

• 1 package (16 ounces) of ricotta-stuffed tortellini 
• 1/2 head of broccoli (I chose broccolini because it looked pretty), chopped into small trees
• 8-10 asparagus spears, chopped into 1-inch segments
• 1 clove garlic
• Pinch of sea salt
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• Small handful of chopped almonds
• Small handful of chopped mint (cilantro works too, but I highly recommend mint)
• Small handful of sprouts
• 1 ripe avocado, chopped

Cheers to summer salads and pretty peonies!

Directions: 

Boil water and add tortellini. Cook according to instructions on package. About 30 seconds before the pasta is finished cooking, add the chopped broccoli and asparagus. Cook for 30 seconds; then drain and rinse with cold water, to stop cooking. 

In the meantime, to make the dressing, use the flat part of your knife to mash the garlic and salt into a paste. Whisk together the garlic paste, lemon juice and olive oil. 

When you're ready to serve the salad, toss the pasta, asparagus, broccoli and mint with about half of the dressing. Add more dressing to taste. Add the sprouts, nuts, and avocado. Toss gently and serve. Use the remaining dressing for leftovers...if you have any! 

If you like this salad as much as we did, you'll want to check out this sample menu of some of the recipes from Super Natural Every Day. Let me know which ones you try and like! The book is also $14 on Amazon. 

On a related note: who else is granting access to their Amazon Prime account in the interest of getting free gifts? You can bet I’m gonna leave a lot more items in my “Save for later” section. Thanks Brookie!

The Dailey (or 2 Times a Week) Method

Memorial Day Weekend -- a time for consuming calories in any form -- booze, treats, grub. None of it counts this weekend. 

Alyssa's birthday cake featuring 4 sticks of butter -- just one player in the all-you-can-eat Memorial Day festivities.

Well, if you're like me and your good morning greeting on this Wednesday came in the form of snug jeans and an overpowering craving for vegetables, I have just the thing for you: a workout that will make your thighs scream, your posture erect, and your triceps pinch. 

It's called The Dailey Method -- a fitness potpourri with a Pilates base, a ballet flair, and a reputation for building long and lean bodies -- and it's the only strength workout that I've ever stuck with. In the hour-long class you'll squat and stretch at the bar like a ballerina (a tired and sweaty ballerina), you'll hold plank longer than you want to...like way longer than you want to, and you'll even experience the dichotomy of hilariousness and misery from the trademark thigh dancing.*

Aside from feeling stronger in my arms and abs, I credit TDM with improving my posture and lengthening my running stride. But my favorite part of TDM is that each class challenges you with different and new exercises, so it keeps my interest. Kudos to all of you who touted strength training as essential and efficient long before I did. I get it now. 

I even bought the $10 socks. #Sucker.

If you too want to feel like a wannabe ballerina, here's a list of TDM studios. Note, if you don't live near a studio, TDM is very similar to The Bar Method and other barre workouts. I stuck with TDM studio in Santa Barbara because it's closer to my house than The Bar Method and it has free parking. Amen to that. 

*You'll have to try it to find out. 

My Thoughts on Mountain Biking (or Sliding Down a Mountain in Padded Spandex Shorts)

Jordan exemplifying real mountain biking.

One of the things I initiated during my year-long blogging intermission was my mountain biking career. The use of the word "career" is funnier if you know that I've been mountain biking a number of times that I can count on one hand, and also if you could hear the "woahs" and screams I let out as I "mountain bike" down the trail. 

After a recent mountain bike excursion in San Luis Obsipo, I put together a collection of my thoughts and learnings about the sport, but first let's start with the basics.

The Basics

Okay, Anatomy of a Mountain Bike, Volume 1: Mountain bikes are built to go over rocks and logs and annoying small children. 

They prefer to do so at a quicker speed. 

Left brake slows down the front wheel = death trap. Right brake slows down the back wheel = your friend.

I have also heard mountain bikers use these words: pedals, handlebars, thirsty, Idaho, gears and breakfast. 

Now that you know everything there is to know about mountain biking, I give to you... 

Ramblings of Spandex-Clad Jedi in Training

Montaña de Oro State Park

Montaña de Oro is a one of a few confident peaks on the south tip of a small bay near San Luis Obispo (SLO), in a state park boasting a two lane road covered in arches of eucalyptus trees, stunning ocean views and an excellent beginner mountain biking trail. As you get started on the namesake trail, the incline is gradual and surrounded on both sides by stubby bushes. Toward the top you're challenged by sharper turns, rocky obstacles and rides along steep ledges. To get over and through all of these challenges, the trick is to...

1) Look Where You Want to Go

The best advice Jordan has given me about mountain biking thus far is that you want to look where you want to go, about 10 feet in front of you. When it works, you not only end up where you meant to (yay!), but you also feel like you're a Jedi using The Force to control the bike. At the path you look and continue safely you will; off the cliff you look and die you will. I will admit, however, that when you have a boulder garden* beneath you, this concept is harder in practice than in theory. But I have found that when I am able to completely ignore said boulder garden, I will likely go right over it!, which makes me wish that this look-where-you-want-to-go concept was applicable in other areas -- mainly traffic jams, work days/weeks, and airline seat assignments, among other things. 

*Something that real mountain bikers may refer to as "a single rock." 

2) Embrace Speed as Your Friend (the pushy, show-off kind)

Another thing to keep in mind is that the quicker you go, the more stable you will be. I haven't seen the equation that proves this math, but I have experienced firsthand the slow and inevitable fall a single rock can cause when you so much as touch your brakes before going over it. It's like the rocks on mountain bike trails have a personal vendetta against slow cyclists. So people like me who prefer snail mail speed -- I may get down the mountain in 3-5 business days -- are wise to suit up, sit down and hang on. It's like that scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall where Chuck (Paul Rudd) is trying to explain to Peter (Jason Segel) how to pop up on a surfboard: The less you do the better. Ya gotta pop down, and never, ever, touch your brakes. 

3) Never Use Your Brakes (Ever)

This tip might confuse some of you, but seriously the brakes on a mountain bike are one of the most dangerous features. They are known to cause flipping, sliding, falling, bloating, headache, dizziness, vertigo, and sometimes death. My advice, just take them off. Waste of space. All you have to do is look where you want to go. 

On my way down Montaña de Oro last November.

What are your newest or favorite adventure sports? Any other ideas where the look-where-you-want-to-go rule should apply? 

The D Club (and Welcome Back!)

I like dogs as much as Ron Swanson likes bacon, maybe more. So naturally I like taking pictures of dogs, to savor the excitement and revisit them later. And don't even get me started on dog parks. Best invention ever. I'd like to thank Leslie Knope for that idea. Who else could it be?

So as an intro to my revamped blog, I wanted to introduce you to my favorite dogs. I will tell you ahead of time that I do indeed know of some these dogs in real life. (Collective inhale.) With some, I'm on nickname basis. Others are dogs I have socialized with, near or around. No matter my relation, however, I hope you enjoy what I'm calling...

The D Club 

Bella Lucinda/Louis Speilberg 

I start with the pup dearest to my heart, Bella Lu (Louis Speilberg, Belly, Lucinda, Lulu). Bella is sassy and cuddly and quite laid back for being a Little Dog, all of which makes up for the fact that her face is squished and her eyes look like they might pop out of her skull if she sneezes too hard. My favorite thing Bella does is the way she greets you when you walk in the door. When she sees you, she starts to charge your way in an excited gait, and then, right before she gets to you, she flips over onto her back mid-stride, sliding beneath you in perfect belly rub position, as if saying "You're home! And, I know you've been waiting all day to pet my belly." 

Bella in proper belly rub form. 

Coco & Woofy Komaiko 

Coco and Woofy Komaiko are sisters by association, not by biology, and man what a ruckus these two make. The Komaiko family (Jordan's sister, her husband and two darling kiddos) rescued Coco last year and brought her home to Woofy, the mini Schnauzer. Like something out of a rom-com, these two were best dog friends since first sight. Together they've eaten bags of Halloween candy (and subsequently gotten their stomaches pumped), and made a habit out of snuggling on the couch. But the best thing these two have contributed to our weekly Wednesday night dinners is entertainment in the form of what we call Wrestlemania. Woofy and Coco rarely tire of wrestling with each other, and when they're wrestling, it's hard to tell tail from head. Like a blonde and gray yin and yang tumbleweed, they make their way around the house growling and biting each other (with love). 

Coco & Woofy Komaiko

Working dogs

An outstanding job perk for a dogless girl like me is a dog-friendly office like the one I work in. In the interest of savoring my professional relationships by not going into detail about how much satisfaction I get when other people bring their dogs to work, I will let this photo of Noe the Labradoodle and Riley the Lab mix speak for itself.

Chewbacca the (Crazy/Happy) Golden Retriever

This smiley golden ball of love came into my life last weekend. I won't say we know each other well, but we did snuggle on the couch (read: Chewbacca jumped on my lap, attempted to lick my chapstick off my lips and then hastily made his way to his owner) at a birthday party last weekend. I didn't say he was a gentlemen, but I had to include him on the list, because look at his face! And because Golden Retrievers are my favorite. 

Neighbor dogs

These three King Charles Cavaliers live a few houses down from me and they can be admired laying out on their driveway sunbathing while their retired parents garden and enjoy their yard. I had the pleasure of meeting them one morning when Bella was in town. I only remember that one of them is named Pollyanna. 

Bella meeting the Canon Drive King Charles Cavalier posse.

Pippa Kimball

My mom will kill me if I don't include a blurb on her other dog, Pippa (Bella's roommate.) I say roommate, because unlike Woofy and Coco Komaiko, Bella and Pippa do not have a happily ever after-themed friendship story. In short, they're not friends. And while Pippa has a mind of her own, she can be quite snuggly and cute when she wants to be, so we love her all the same.

Pippa Kimball at work.

Dogs I Don't Know But Have Seen (or Pictures of Dogs Sent to Me Electronically)

I'm fortunate to have two dog-crazy sisters and a sweet boyfriend, all of whom send me pictures of dogs on the reg. Here's a collage of my favorite ones from the last week. 

As a full-time dog obsessor, I'd love to see pictures and read stories about your favorite furry things! Twitter: @kmdediego 

Two of My Favorite Things

Apparently I’m into lists lately. This one’s short. It’s bullet points, really...don’t say I didn’t warn you.

For those of us who can still appropriately make wish lists for Santa, Macy’s has set up Santa Mailboxes in its stores for us to drop them off for the ol’ guy. Feeling too old for that, I'm publishing a short list of my favorite things instead…actually it’s just Two of My Favorite things that I discovered I love on one lunchtime walk.

I know a lot of girls that swoon for a guy with a dog. In fact, I’ve heard many of my friends list in the attributes that make their newest love interest eligible, “he has a dog.” And, vice versa, “He said he wasn’t into dogs, so I don’t know…” Well this gal is taking Guys With Dogs to a new level. First on my list of Two of My Favorite Things is: Guys Who Say “Bless You” to their dogs. Taking a walk during my lunch hour yesterday, I was enjoying the sun on my back (another unofficial one of my favorite things) when this average looking guy with a cute dog walked by. When the dog sneezed, without hesitation the guy said audibly and enthusiastically, “Bless you!” and sooner than you can say, “Thank you,” this guy went from Random Average Joe to Santa Barbara’s Own Jake Gyllenhaal. Being that I too converse with pets—both my own and stranger’s—I guess you could say it was love at first sneeze.

On this very same walk, just on the other side of the street, I stumbled upon the other one of my Two Favorite Things—something I named Spaced Out Pine Trees (please see photo.) I first noticed these organic beauties in Australia. The star shaped top put a twinkle in my eye for these toy-like wonders that hasn’t faded yet. These are my favorite trees; I don’t know their real name, and frankly I don’t care to find out. 

Ironman Denver, or A Day in the Life of a Fifth Grade Teacher

I still remember my fifth grade teacher—quirky, artsy and dedicated. She wore patterned socks and weird sweaters. I liked her.

My best friend from college is a fifth grade teacher in Denver, but she wears plain socks and J.Crew sweaters.  When I booked my ticket to visit her, she invited me to be a guest in her class for the day. “Yahoo!” I thought. “A relaxing, fifth grade day.”

Ya, it’s 5:15 a.m., dark outside and Becca is pouring me a second cup of coffee. Driving through Northern Denver’s dark streets forty minutes later, the smart-ass in me groggily inquires, “Am I ever gonna get to see the sun in Denver?” Becca chuckles.

At 6:10 a.m. we walk into the classroom of which I’ve seen pictures. The asparagus-colored paint attempts to wake me up. Fail.

Becca plans her lessons, enter grades into the system, writes the end-of-the-week newsletter and runs copies of today’s writing assignment.  I sit in a plastic, primary blue chair and try to read a book.

It’s the ten-year-olds themselves that jumpstart me. They’re so filled with energy and curiosity when they start stumbling in around 7:30 it’s contagious. The questions start almost immediately.

 “Miss Ryan, is that your friend?” they echo.

I try to remember what my fifth grade class was like. I remember the people and my favorite outfit—plaid skirt with matching Scotty dog sweater and loafers—but the class dynamic is lost forever. Looking around this classroom there are girls who are 5 feet tall and girls whose shoes look like doll accessories. Some of them sit quietly, diligently work, eager to please. Others would rather socialize. Suddenly a memory comes back: I was a quiet grade schooler but a loquacious middle and high schooler. I want to tell Carolina that if she can just stay focused for a few more years, she’ll find a vocation that will appreciate her chatty nature.  Broadcast journalism, for example…

In second period, they get more inquisitive:

“Are you a teacher?”

“No.”

“Oh…what do you do then?”

“Ummmmm….I’m a…writer.”

“Did you write this book?”

“No.”

“What do you write then?”

(Sigh) Blog posts?

“Are you married?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be.”

“That’s weird.”

“What is your favorite sport?”

“I like baseball.”

(Eyes wide and sparkling) “Do you play baseball?!”
“…No.”

(Sparkle fades.)

As the afternoon settles in, my energy level pools and resides like the tide depending on the students’ presence that day. Their excitement runs through me, inspires me to tell them about what it’s like to be in college living with your best friends—a concept they neither comprehend nor desire at this point in their lives.

The highlight of the afternoon is the poem a little girl hands to Jorie, or “Miss Clarson.” I can’t remember the whole thing, but “your eyes sparkle like the ocean,” and “your smile is better than mine” were two unforgettable phrases. 

The students’ school day ends with an intense game of Four Square into which they invite us. Bouncing and yelling until they’re sweating, the kids don’t want the game to end, but at 4 p.m. we walk them to the front of the school where their parents sit in a line of cars to pick them up. 

A half hour later, everyone but two are picked up. Becca leads them inside, cracking jokes along the way. How does she have the energy to keep talking and joking? I’m a walking zombie complete with bloodshot eyes. I can see the day’s end in sight, but I know that usually Becca stays at school until at least 6 p.m., grading, planning, copying, creating, grading, planning, and so on.

Becca and Jorie chat on the way home. I rest my eyes and head in the back. I laugh when Becca says she sometimes goes straight to the gym after school. I think she’s kidding.

She’s not.

So it’s official: to be a teacher you have to also be superhuman.

So proud of you Bec, and thank you Mrs. Crochetti. I had no idea. 

Dog-on-it

Hey, Pippa here, and I get to write Kate’s blog post this week! Kate’s been on vacation and going to a lot of yoga, so I’m sure you can understand that she’s just too tired to write this week. So, it’s Pippa Kimball to the rescue! And, I have so much to tell you.

Well, I guess I’ll start by introducing myself. I am Pippa Jean Kimball, but I like to go by Pippa Kimball or Peepo. I am an 18-pound Shih Tzu, and I like it when it’s cool outside. I like Cool Weather because I have a birthday during Cool Weather, and also I have a lot of fur, which tends to keep the heat inside me and the heat is known to make me do snapping, growling and fighting with my sister.

Oh, ya! My sister! I have an older sister named Bella who would be the perfect snuggle partner, except for the fact that Bella doesn’t like me. She openly wishes she were still an only dog. I think that’s why she loves our big (human) sister, Brooke, so much; they relate on the level that they both resented our parents when little sisters (me and Kate) came along. Anyway, I love Bella and refuse to leave her alone. Persistence is key when you’re trying to get someone to like you, so I make sure to jump on her as she wakes up each morning, which sends the message, "GOOD MORNING, BELLA! I'M RIGHT HERE AND I LOVE YOU AND YOU LOOK GREAT EVEN AT THIS HOUR!" I also sit very close to her when she eats, for her comfort. And I think I’m making progress, because Bella and I even made up a game that we play together; it’s called Wrestling & Biting. It’s a great game that is fun at any time of day, but personally I prefer to play right when I wake up and right before I go to bed. The game ends when someone is tired, except sometimes I get fed up with Bella and her “independence” so I do a little bit of ear biting and then she—little princess that she is—plays the “I’m smaller” card and yelps until I get harshly picked up and stowed in the living room while she rolls over onto her back to enjoy a belly rub from Mom.

Anyway, I live in a pretty cool house with my mom, dad and big (human) sister, Kate—the one who writes this blog! Kate is pretty nice, gives good belly rubs and we have some common interests, like taking walks, talking, and lying on the ground. Kate and I also like to walk in nature, but Kate usually just looks at the leaves and trees and birds and bugs; she never stops to smell these wondrous things, and often hurries me along in my sniffing. And everyone knows you can't be an efficient sniffer under so much pressure and leash pulling. She's really missing out. Kate’s other downside is that she doesn’t eat meat or cheese, so her “treats” that fall when she’s cooking are usually quinoa kernels, grapes or carrot chunks. Still, I’m not a particular eater (I mean I like to eat poop), so I still fight Bella for the chunk of onion that falls from Kate’s cutting board. The other thing about Kate is that she always telling Bella and me how much she’ll miss us when she moves out. She wants to move out so she can go out on The Weekend with her friends. I’m not sure, but I think The Weekend is a boat. I know Kate is used to working on The Weekend, so she’s probably really excited about going out on The Weekend for pure enjoyment.

Ok, back to my house. My house has lots of windows, a nice deck and some cool tile to lie on after summer walks. But my favorite part of the house is the kitchen. There is a big white door in the kitchen that doesn’t really lead anywhere, but the smells inside—oh my! Cheese! Salami! Pizza! Beans! But every time I get close enough to really explore, my dad or Kate comes along and snaps it shut in front of me. Humans are weird about food. In fact, I think my mom and dad are practicing a religious ritual of some sort. I think they’re making food sacrifices to the gods. A few times a day, every day, my mom or dad (and even Kate!) opens a door underneath the water spout in our kitchen and puts some food in a bag that sits in a tub in there. And once a week they take the bag outside and put it into a bigger tub where all of our neighbors have put their sacrificial food as well. Once a week the gods send their delegates to collect the food in a big truck, and I’m guessing they have it delivered right to the gods’ houses. Because I mostly stick to filling my days with searching for food, taking naps, barking and chasing leaves, I’m happy my family is considering our position with the gods. I hear that all dogs go to heaven, so it’s good to know I’ll be welcomed there.

Well, I think it’s Bedtime. I know that because my eyes are getting droopy and mom has on those funny leopard print pants she puts on before Bedtime every night. I don’t mind Bedtime, because you know what time comes after it? Time To Eat! So, good night! Take care! I love you! See you tomorrow! I have floppy ears! I love Pupperoni treats! Please rub my tummy! Good night!