Gnocchi

Let’s talk about my roommate. She’s pretty great. She moved to Indiana in September, and I couldn’t be more happy about this fact. You see, we lived together before, back in the day when I lived down in Mississippi. Our apartment was ghetto-chic, and we loved it and each other dearly.

When we could rally all 4 of us together at home on the same night, we would cook dinner together. Our favorite: hamburgers. Not just any hamburgers, but hamburgers that were stuffed to the gills with all things wonderful: onions, garlic, peppers, tomatoes, happiness.

Cooked with love in our little tiny apartment’s little tiny kitchen on our little tiny pans. When you’re only cooking for one, who needs anything larger than an 8 inch skillet?

Lo and behold, 2 and a half years later, she shows up on my doorstep, here in Indiana, her car loaded with her belongings. There were a few more steps in there, but you don’t need the details. The bottom line is that I get to live with her, and she’s great, this cooking, rock climbing, baking, running, crazy roommate of mine.

Now, let’s talk about the dinner we made together last night. I’d say it turned out pretty well: Pan-Fried Pumpkin Gnocchi with Brown Butter Sage. The recipe does a great job of explaining step by step, and I recommend it. It wasn’t that complicated, and was actually kind of fun!

You make a dough and chop it into bits (next time, we’re making them smaller! The 1 inch by 1 inch that the recipe recommends was a bit generous).

And then…pan fry! Butter and oil. Oh baby, oh baby. Make the glaze, top with Parmesan cheese, and serve. For what seemed like a really small amount of food, it fills a girl up!

I wanna know: What was your living situation like in college? Good memories and days you enjoy reliving, or not so much?

Winter is settling in

And it seems to be making itself quite at home. The snow fell in its lazy, graceful patterns, as only snow can do, and it hasn’t left us yet. We’re settled in until March or so. Secretly, I’m thrilled.

The only sadness is that I live in Indiana. Where we don’t often get snow in great quantities, and we don’t believe in hills. Never, ever, in all of my days, did I think either of those things would fall under the “con” category of a locale. But, they do. And I catch myself thinking such irrational thoughts as, “I could move further north again,” or, “I would love to live in the mountains, where my driveway is a mile long and my snowshoes are a necessity.”

But then I remind myself that I like the beach. And that beach time isn’t really conducive to either snow or mountain living. And thenĀ  my thoughts wander to moving back to MI, where there are hills and where the snow abounds. But also where the summers are beautiful and the great lakes are within a lazy, Sunday afternoon drive. But move back? What am I thinking? That is something I said that I would never. ever. do. Ever.

It’s the holidays that make me sentimental about the homeland. It happens every year. Without fail. There’s just something wonderful about being home. And seeing friends from the olden days. Snuggling on the couch to watch a movie. Mom cooking dinner. Almond paste in the cookies. Snowshoes. Skis. And country roads (take me home).