Eggplant is Actually Good

This is for my friends that are from cold areas. Specifically the Gustafson's and Crystal (I consider Michigan to be basically the same level of freezing as Minnesota, my dear). Hopefully you can read this, because I laughed hard when I saw it.


So, I've been attempting to cook some of the things in my cookbook that I've never tried before. A couple of weeks ago I was flipping through the veggie section when I saw it: Ratatouille. What?! I have the recipe for Ratatouille?! How is it possible that I've had it this long and haven't realized it? I took a look at it, expecting it to be (despite the movie's definition of it being a "peasant dish") some ridiculously complicated french cuisine. BUT NO!! It's incredibly easy. And a new challenge presented itself: it is made with eggplant. Despite having lived on this earth for 28 and a half years, I have never a) purchased an eggplant b) cooked an eggplant c) eaten eggplant. So while I was doing my grocery shopping I boldly went over to the veggie section and (tried to pretend I wasn't reading the label beneath as to how to pick out a good eggplant while I) picked one. And it was a beautiful eggplant, if I do say so myself. There's something about buying a purple vegetable that makes you happier inside.

Anyhow, it was a success. Ratatouille, it turns out, is just a whole bunch of vegetables (eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onion, green bell pepper, and fresh garlic) mixed together and cooked in a frying pan. My roommate had some too, and she liked it. Plus, here's a little tip from Betty Crocker herself: you can puree leftover ratatouille and put it on top of crackers and french bread for a snack or lunch. I haven't tried that yet though, but when I do I'll let you know how it tastes.

PUZZling and PUZZling

You know how when the Grinch took all the presents from Who-ville and got to the top of the mountain, he stopped and heard all the Whos come out of their house, hoping to hear them crying but instead they all started singing despite the fact that he had stolen all their who-hash--you know how he stood there "PUZZling and PUZZLing" about why they were singing when he had stolen Christmas? That's how I've felt this whole week about pretty much everything--I've been puzzling and puzzling about it. I've been puzzling over my clients at LDS, trying to figure out how to best help them, puzzling about whether I'm pushing some of them too hard. I've been puzzling about what to do with my life after school. Yesterday I spent three hours at the library puzzling over a research project that I'm trying to prepare for my research class for NEXT semester, puzzling out if the inventory I'm trying to make is even feasible. Even at church today I was feeling puzzled about the members of my ward and why some of them act the way they do. Humanity is just puzzling, and it's all been pressing on me this week.

A couple of weeks ago I was over at a friends' house and she invited me to go with her to these stables to help her friend bring a horse out of it's trailer and get it set up in one of the stables. When we got there I realized that they keep the fairgrounds open pretty much all the time, so this morning I went on a little drive and stopped by the fairgrounds to pet the horses. I've never really interacted with horses. I rode one once, for about 10-15 minutes, but we were on a trip with the kids I worked with. One horse, four people, so we each got just a little time to ride. Anyhow, the horses at the stable are really beautiful. This morning I was wishing I had one of those horse brushes, because some of the horses were covered with hay or mud from their stall. An elderly fellow showed up, and he voiced what I had been thinking. "There aren't many places where you can go and just smell the horses." He said he used to ride horses, up in the mountains near Logan. I imagined him to be an Americanized Jim Craig, riding down the side of a mountain when everyone else stops at the cliff. "I don't ride anymore. Now I just like to come here and smell them." Funny man.