Author: Lauren

Sturgis or Bust!

photo by Kelly Soprych

There’s something about road trips that makes me more more patriotic.  Especially if I don’t have to go through Indiana or Nebraska (no offense, but your states are pretty boring to drive through).  Taking a road trip on a motorcycle, however, has been downright religious.

I have the luxury of riding as a passenger, so I get all of the rewards of traveling by motorcycle with none of the responsibility, and fewer bugs in my teeth.  When asked what I was going to do for 2 days sitting on a bike, I jokingly said I’d find the meaning of life, but when we hit a thunderstorm and continued to ride through it, I got into this weird meditative place that was a combination of “don’t fall off the bike Lauren” and pure contentment.  Don’t get me wrong… raindrops going 65mph feel like little shards of glass hitting your face that is anything but pleasant. But my face, hands, wet feet and sore butt eventually settled into the rain and embraced it as part of the journey.

I wondered if the Buddha would have come up with something different had he been riding on a motorcycle through the rain instead of sitting under a tree.  Either way, the message is pretty much the same: Sit still, follow the path and eventually you’ll reach clearer skies.

I knew that riding motorcycles was cool, but getting a taste of the culture surrounding it is downright awesome – and not unlike the kinship I experience as a bike rider.  But to return to my point above there’s something distinctly American (in a good way) about traveling in a pack of strong, independent women across beautiful landscapes with the wind in our faces and the clouds so close you could reach out and grab ’em.

And don’t worry, mom, I’ve been wearing my helmet.

What happened to What’s in the Box? and, a recipe for tacos

I’ll tell you what happened.

I couldn’t keep up.

and then I went on vacation.

and then, I thought, those posts just didn’t seem that interesting to me anyway.

So I ditched the weekly updates on what arrived in my box of deliciousness and opted to spend the time eating said deliciousness instead.  What has resulted is perhaps one of the most culinarily creative summers I’ve had to date, and a REALLY conscious effort to not let anything go to waste.  Once you’ve weeded carrots with your own hands you’ll never let them turn flimsy and brown in the fridge again.

So now comes that point in the post where I share a recipe, and although I can’t take credit for the nifty taco shell because I saw it on The Garden Pantry‘s Facebook Page and had to try it.  The rest?  Leftovers.

Lauren’s Leftover Taco Night

Ingredients:

  • Corn tortillas (make sure they are good quality and extra soft)
  • 1/2 lb. Ground Turkey
  • 1/2 packet taco seasoning
  • 1 onion, diced
  • shredded cheese
  • sour cream
  • avocado
  • cilantro
  • lime
  • whatever veg is in your fridge: I used lettuce, scallions, cherry tomatoes

Directions:

Pre-heat oven to 375 deg-F.  Using a muffin pan turned upside down, press tortillas into the notches and spray with cooking spray.  Bake 10 minutes for cute little crispy taco shells.

Brown the ground turkey in a skillet coated in non-stick cooking spray over medium high heat.  Add the taco seasoning and diced onion and cook until onion is soft and translucent.  Place turkey aside on a plate covered in paper towel to drain oil.

Prepare your tacos in the shells.  with the meat on the bottom.  Add your toppings, squeeze some fresh lime juice over the top, and pour yourself a margarita.

 

Preparing for Sturgis, and other great reasons to buy chaps

I’m about to embark on a trip I NEVER imagined I’d take.

That’s right.  I’m headed to Sturgis next Saturday!  Because, you know, I totally embody biker chick.

I’m so excited to visit a part of the country I’ve never seen, and on a method of travel I’ve never done.  I’ll be hitching a ride on the back of a Harley to journey the 1,000 miles from Chicago over two days.  I’m pretty sure my adductors will be ripped by the time I get back, and I’ve got my vintage helmet and goggles on the way from Amazon.

To chap, or not to chap? Lubbock, TX, 1940–photo by Hansel Mieth

What exactly does one wear in Sturgis?  I’ve been using Pinterest to gather ideas and inspiration for all things South Dakota, but perhaps what I’m most torn on is chaps.

  • Do I buy them?
  • Can I pull them off?
  • Would I regret not having them?

I can think of a lot of reasons to have chaps in my life.  Like Halloween and leather parties*.  With their anti-chafing capacity I may just start working out in them.

But seriously, what do you think?  Do I make a lukewarm attempt to fit in by buying something I’ll likely never wear again?  Sometimes when I try to fit in I actually fit in less than I would by otherwise just being myself.

The question that I’m posing to the universe is: Are chaps one of those things like fringe that simply fulfills some sort of style code or do they actually serve a purpose that I’ll find useful on this adventure?

So far my plan is to try and make it out there in jeans, and if my pants (and inner thighs, for that matter) suffer to the point that chaps make sense, I’m sure that the variety increases the further West I get.  But I could certainly be persuaded to buy them now if someone with experience said I should have them to save me 1,000 miles of discomfort.

Thoughts?

*Disclaimer: I have not been, nor do I intend to go to a leather party.  But then, I never thought I’d be going to Sturgis either.

Recipe for the Perfect Picnic

Brie.

Grapes.

Italian bread.

Wine. Red.

Add a little greenery, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, a bumpin’ twitter feed and a few thousand of my closest friends, and this is the making of a beautiful evening.  

People do it up right at The Ravinia Festival.

There’s the mad dash from the gate. The in-fighting over the shaded spots close to the Pavilion.  The pop up tables, real crystal, and vases of flowers.  Everything you’ve heard about Ravinia is true.  It’s at times chaotic and dripping with wealth, but the North Shore folks in khaki pants and claustrophobic lawn quickly fade away once the music kicks in.  You settle into your bottle of wine, gaze up at the trees, and all your worries melt away. 

For just ten bucks, you can sit in the most beautiful back yard in the tri-county area and hear some of the best musicians in the world.  This particular Sunday it happened to be Idina Menzel with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  Admittedly sniffly, and suprisingly crass, that bitch can sing.

What a glorious way to spend a summer evening. 

Lauren relaxing on the lawn at Ravinia Festival

Starbucks Around the World: Sunnyvale, CA

A late evening iced coffee to curb my food coma.  Actually, this store in Sunnyvale (not to be confused with the Hellmouth) turned out to be amazing.  Since they were closing up and out of iced coffee I couldn’t hide my #sadtrombone face and thought I might just pass.  The barista swooped in, and in true superhero fashion comped me an iced americano instead.  Well done.  Truly legendary.

Side note: The great Terri Hilton, who took this picture, was saddened when she only just learned of my Starbuckian pursuits at 8pm. She insisted that had she known earlier she would have easily added 12 more stores within the span of our day together instead of taking me on a walking tour of Stanford.  Next time, Terri.

Starbucks Around the World: Palo Alto, CA

There’s a small possibility I might not go back to Chicago after all.  While you’ve been having 100+ degree heat and torrential downpours all week, I’ve been hanging out in the South Bay, just about 35 minutes(ish) outside of San Francisco.  Aside from being able to wear a three-quarter length shirt, fashion scarf, and no socks 365 days a year, there are also a plethora of Starbucks around here.  This one is in Palo Alto, and I visited here while checking out the farmers market in town.  My long-time friend Terri fled from Chicago winters a little over two years ago and hasn’t looked back.  After spending a day here, I don’t blame her.

Especially convenient to this particular Starbucks photo is the firework-esque mural behind me… because that’s about as patriotic as I get.  So Happy Independence Day, because our freedom and the state of Capitalism in our country has afforded me the privilege of visiting this, my 29th Starbucks around the World.

Leaving my heart in San Francisco…

Want the truth?

It is dangerously easy to fall in love with this city…

I had the teensiest of legs up coming to San Francisco for the Dance/USA conference in that I was born in the area and had family I could stay with.  Because we’d often come back to visit, I’ve seen the major sites already: The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39, Ghiradelli Square, Lombard Street, and the list goes on.

So, knowing I had limited time outside of a conference room during my three days here I didn’t want to revisit things I’ve already seen.

I chose, instead, to just walk.

Even though I’ve been here a countless number of times, this is the first time I’ve visited as an adult.  I was surprisingly disoriented, being used to a really strict grid system, but SF is quite small by comparison to Chicago and after I got my bearings I really started to enjoy my walking tours and trips on the BART.

Produce market in The Mission

Without any goals or preconceived destinations, I feel like I got to walk among San Franciscans as if I was one of them, and, I gotta tell you, I could get used to that.  In both neighborhoods I visited (Union Square and The Mission) I found happy accidents such as live music performances, farmers markets, and fantastic murals to gaze at.  Not to mention the fantastic weather and interesting mix of Victorian and Spanish Colonial architecture.

In most cities I feel like I have to squeeze it all in. I have to see as much as possible in a limited amount of time, and take the city by storm.  Rarely do you get the opportunity to sink in and go at a normal pace, and maybe it’s for that reason that you start to miss home or feel like “it’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there”.

San Francisco was dangerously different.  I never felt like a tourist (even when I was wearing a big conference name tag).  I fit right in.  I didn’t feel like walking the bridge or hitting the nightlife; I felt like shopping for deli meat and bananas.  It felt like home.

Does San Francisco have this effect on everyone, or is it just me?