The Panini Genie

Magic, magic, magic.

Do you believe in magic?

Do you believe in magic of the melty, crispy, pressed, fresh, Italian sort?

Do you believe in paninis?

Say yes. Just say yes.

The most exciting moment of July was buying a panini maker.

Well, persuading my mother to buy a panini maker.

This is what happened a couple weekends ago:

I stumbled out of bed at 11am and slapped the sleep out of my head. I slept for twelve hours. Not good. Head-achey and delirious, I blindly looked over my agenda for the day. (Because really, what else does one do when they've wasted precious hours sleeping?)

The index card read: write, send a card to G, bake pumpkin muffins, leg workouts, watch Parks & Rec.

Naturally, I didn't do any of that. Eh, I thought, it'll just be a spontaneous type of day.

My stomach growled and I walked to the kitchen.

My mom was at the table, eating her breakfast, when she said she'd be going to Macy's later on in the day. She asked if I wanted to come along. 

My first instinct was HECK TO THE NO. Macy's is my mom's drug. She'll say she'll only be an hour but she'll walk out seven hours later carrying slow cookers, Lenox plates, business pants, polos, handbags for presents, Estee Lauder perfume, and clearance pajamas.

It's a Persian mom thing.

When she used to take me as a kid, I'd scavenge the area one of those spinning clothing racks and plop down inside and pray to God that Macy's just randomly decided to close early for the day so I could go home and watch Phil of the Future. 

Back to the present, now.

I found myself blurting, "Sure. I'll come." when mom mentioned she needed a skillet.

There's one part of Macy's that I do like. Heck, one part of all stores I like.

And that is the cookware/bakeware section.

Those places are treasures.

Anyway, flash forward to us standing in the cookware section. Macy's, level 3.

Bright spatulas and non-stick cookie pans.

Kitchen Aid mixers in any hue imaginable (mint green, lime green, sea foam green, aqua green, forest green). (And they were on sale! For $350. Which is still extremely expensive, but a girl can dream.) (PS: I'd pick the Kitchen Aid mixer over a pair of Louboutins any day.) 

On a blindingly white, immaculate table was the skillet my mother needed. It was marked down and as she calculated which of her coupons she should use to get the best deal, I made my way to the other side of the table.

Sure enough, Jesus had been resurrected next to a Pyrex measuring cup.

Well it wasn't actually him.

It was a panini maker. But close enough.

Quick fact about me: I totes magotes heart paninis. If I go somewhere that has a panini on the menu, I order it. (Check out my post about sandwiches! :)

They say when you fall in love, you just know, y'know. 

I'd never really believed that. Until: The Panini Genie.

That's the name I gave it. Cute, huh?

I am just rambling on and on like a blabbermouth. Or like a Panini Genie owner. You decide.

ANYHOO: My mom gave the green light to buy the panini maker. I swear I ain't ever smiled so big.

The second I got home, I made a panini. 

French bread, crusty and toasty. Basil and walnut pesto that smelled like Italy. Smoked deli turkey folded gently. Fresh tomatoes sliced thinly. Vibrant spinach leaves and all their antioxidant glory. Cheddar cheese shredded finely.

I had so much fun making the panini. I channeled Giada and pretended I had my own Food Network show. It was cool till my grandma walked in the kitchen and said she'd ask God to give me a brain.

The final product was restaurant worthy. And I don't mean that lightly.

And I think it's because I was okay with it turning into a big floppy mess. It was my first time making a panini. Perfection was not expected.

Oh but perfection I got.

I've made them for my family and they've been a hit! :) So far, I've tried two different types of french bread but I want to experiment with more!

 Thanks for reading and I hope you liked all 57 pictures of the paninis. Have a wonderful day. :) 

Pumpkin Pancakes in July

You know when it feels like Halloween but it's not Halloween?

Yeah. That's been happening to me.

Lately, I've been sitting in my backyard watching the sunset. For some reason, the way the sky turns orange reminds me of Halloween.

Halloween is my favorite holiday.

Costumes and face paint and fake tombstones?

Lugging a pillowcase around door to door, hoping the next house will have Heath Bars?

Watching Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus at 8pm on school nights on the Disney Channel?

Yes. Yes. and Yes.

(P.S: My favorite candy is Heath Bars. The houses that have  them always get extra cool points in my book! :)

There is nothing more magical than Party City at Halloween time. If you don't like Halloween stores, what is wrong witchu foo?

 Just kidding. I still love ya.

Kinda.

No but seriously. I have a deep seeded obsession with horrific creatures.

-My first (...and only...ahem...) boyfriend was a Dracula doll that talked. Before you think I'm complete psycho, know that I was five years old. And might I just say all these new Hollywood movies/tv shows that center around vampires can just fade away. Original Dracula was where it was at. :)

-For Valentine's Day, I bought a pack of monster Valentine cards. They were pics of the original Mummy, Frankenstein, Dracula, WereWolf, Chucky, etc. etc. I liked to pretend the cards were given to me by the monsters themselves. I was four.

-I had a crush on Chucky the Doll. Is that normal?! Probably not.

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Autumn is my favorite season.

Surprise, surprise, summer is my least favorite season (even though my birthday's in July) so last week, when it got a little chilly and the sky turned amber and the air smelled like cinnamon, I jumped aboard the autumn train.

Ed Sheeran played on the stereo. Spice candles decorated the coffee table. Pumpkin cooked on the stove top.

I hoard canned pumpkin. It's a problem most fall loving bakers share. I think pumpkin bread is the best thing that's ever happened to humanity. Truth.

I had the sudden urge to bake something with pumpkin. So I did.

Pumpkin pancakes.

Boom shaka laka boom.

Buttermilk pancakes are awesome. Pumpkin pancakes are awesome-r.

I had just gone out to breakfast with my mom, aunt, and grandma and ordered a pumpkin waffle. For the first time! It's so hard to find pumpkin foods in the off seasons.

These pumpkin pancakes are light and full of cinnamon-nutmeg-cloves-ginger-goodness! Be warned though: one bite, and you'll really wish it was autumn. And it was delish! My dad even gave them a thumbs up!

Recipe is from Food.com.

http://www.food.com/recipe/light-and-fluffy-pumpkin-pancakes-187362

So bake these while wearing a Halloween costume for an extra sprinkling of autumn fun. (I did. :)

Enjoy and let me know how it goes and what season you feel like you've been living in lately.

Now excuse me while I go decorate the house in orange foliage, light candles, and watch Halloweentown. :)

The Magic of Story Telling

Years ago, on a rainy Saturday morning, my dad drove my sisters and I to the library.

Standing in front of shelves of wrinkled paperbacks and glossy hardcovers, I ran my fingers over the spines of the books.

Outside, thunder streaked the darkish sky. Rain kissed the pavement.

Six years old, I sat on the library's wooden chair, my feet dangling far above the floor. Knobby elbows on the beige table, I ventured into the world of words.

The Rainbow Fish smudged oceanic watercolors before my eyes.

Chapter books based off the sitcom Full House made me giggle.

Nancy Drew picked me up in her blue convertible and took me on all her exciting mystery hunts. I included myself in her group of friends. Nancy and her tawny gold hair. Handsomely charming Ned Nickerson. Tomboyish George and adorably plump Bess.

In case you couldn't tell, I was a huge Nancy Drew fan. :)

A bookstore is a treasure. It's a place of tranquility, inspiration, and motivation. Shelves of art books, business manuals, and heart wrenching novels are mountains of gold. There's something earth-shatteringly miraculous about storytelling.

I've been reading since I was four. The first chapter book I read on my own was The Little Vampire. And if I knew you when I was reading it, chances are I probably bragged about it to you back then because I thought I was just so sophisticated and grown up.

There's a quote that says, "A reader lives a thousand lives before they die. The man who never reads lives only one."

And I believe that's true.

I've learned from every book I've had the pleasure of coming across, even the poorly written ones.

I've wept at the misfortunes of the lonely old man.

My heart broke when the teenage protagonist was called a freak.

I've cheered, clapped, loved, hated, lost, and appreciated.

I travelled to France with Julia Child. Italy with Liz Gilbert.

And you know what?

I want everyone to know.

I want them to know about the enchanting qualities of a clever tale. 

I want you to smile at page 242 because things are looking up for the son and his estranged parents. 

I want everyone to have a love affair with literature. 

A cherished pastime among many is reading a good book, cuddled up on the couch after a long day of work or school. It's an escape. 

Welcome to the Circus of Scripts! Step right up! Pick a world, any world. Choose through characters, conflicts. We got hypnotic sci-fi, heartwarming romance, side splitting humor memoirs! Anything ya want! Name it we got it. 

For some reason, seeing a child reading makes me really happy. A tiny person, with glasses or a Spongebob shirt or velcro sneakers, criss cross applesauce on a bench reading. 

Lately, I've felt myself growing up. That sounds bizarre, but the gears in my head are turning (as they have been for the past 18 years) and I'm figuring life out. The little tricks and steps of days.

And I could tell you all about how the paperclips are connecting but I'd probably just be going around in circles because if I start to think about everything too much, I just don't make sense anymore. Like now.

A couple weeks ago, I started to write a novel. It's not the first I've started, but it's the most I've ever typed for a concept. And?

And I'm proud of it and hopeful for its future.

Why?

Because I'm appreciating the process and the art. I want people to read it hungrily at 2 am -turning the pages as the lessons turn in their own heads.

It's 1:36 in the morning. Everybody's asleep except for the crickets, and I don't know if this post turned out like I wanted it to. There's a lot of "I's" and it seems to be more about me than about stories, but I needed to type this. This is all over the place, but I'm sure in the future I'll write about this again because hey, I'm a writer.

So pick up a collection of poems, a fantasy novel, a historical recollection, anything really.

Take it in your hands, open it, and read. :)

(PS: Pics are not mine. :)