San Diego Trip Day 3, Part II

PASTA! PASTA! #PASTA!
I had never made homemade pasta before and our friend Mary who took us to the Little Italy Markert (previous blogpost) was happy to bring us to her home and teach us how!

It started with setting the mood first! Had to get our American/Italian music going first! :) Then spread some flour on the counter and get to it!

Made a well in my flour!

Then added eggs and oil and started kneading! My Husband Brent took over and became the Master Pasta maker! So fun to watch as it all came together!

coming together!

Team Effort!

We also picked fresh greens from Marys garden, made a salad and then made a second batch of pasta with spinach! YUM! Started the same way with a well of flour then added spinach.

Mary adding the spinach

Turns out pasta is a fun thing to make, and a fantastic difference in taste! The spinach pasta ended up being my favorite! We also enjoyed homemade bread this day made by Eva Yakutis (to die for good!), Italian wine, homemade eggplant and zucchini lasagna and ravioli which unfortunately I don't have pictures of.

Spinach pasta

All this goodness was a dream to partake of and with exceptional company we got to share it with will be a cherished memory!
Eating on a patio, in the sun, light conversation, incredible palate pleasers and #Italian wine..... cant get much better than that! lovely lovely lovely
#SanDiego #foodlover

Comments

Finding My Birth Mom Part 1: Searching

I've always known I was adopted. I am so thankful for this because it saved me from a lot of struggle throughout my childhood. I will forever be grateful to my parents for being up front about that. Here's my little story. My parents were told they couldn't have children so they started an adoption journey.... they planned to save for a while but then I was born and suddenly they had a daughter! A few months later, they discovered my mom was pregnant! My sister and I are 14 months apart. I never once felt resentment to being adopted or hurt and rejected by my birth Mom. I always had a sense that it was exactly what was supposed to be. Even still.... throughout the years, I felt a yearning to know her. As a child I would sometimes lay awake at night, wondering about my birth mom. Did she think about me? When my birthday happened every year, I always wondered if she was thinking of me that day. Was she happy? Did I have half sibli...

When I met Grant

I remember the day I met Grant Campbell. I was checking on my son who was playing in the yard at our new house. As I rounded the corner, I saw him talking over the fence to a guy I didn't know. The guy was very tall, had tattoos head to toe and I was instant nervous-mama. I should have known that my sweet child was a better judge of character than I was. That man he was chatting with was Grant Campbell, our neighbor and later our friend. A few days after, Grant and his wife Michelle brought over a little "welcome to the neighborhood" gift and that's when the friendship was born. They became fast friends. The guys would go shooting, us girls would have daily chats, coffee and shopping trips together. They eventually moved from next to us to across the street. How fun it was to help them plan out their dreams for this house! There were many hours of dinners, chats, phone calls over the next years that created a deep bond betw...

Yes, Go to that Funeral. It's Important!

I know people who say "I don't go to funerals". I get it. Sometimes they are uncomfortable. Sometimes they are painful. No one WANTS to feel those things, but I want to tell you why it's important and valuable to be there during those times. First of all, funerals aren't for the deceased, they are for the ones left behind. The ones who loved the deceased. The ones who are faced with loss. Let me tell you what your presence at a funeral can mean. It can mean "I am here because I care about you and the loss you are feeling" It can mean " I am here because the person who has passed meant a lot to me" It can mean "I am here because I've felt a similar pain". You may think your presence at a day like this doesn't have an impact but I can tell you from experience that it does. Those who take time to come share in a last farewell mean more to the family than can be put in to words. Even if you don't k...

Think twice before you talk to someone about their weight

I recently had someone comment about my weight.... I have gained about 30 pounds in the last months and I started this year doing something about it... but when this person made her comment.... I wanted to scream, cry and of course, eat. When you comment on someone's weight even if it is in "concern" for them, you are putting them in one of these situations. 1) They feel great the way they are, confident actually, and attractive and now you've cast doubt on all that. 2) They are already self conscious about it and you just made them feel worse. 3) They are aware they are over weight, are already on a diet or exercise plan but now you've made them question whether or not to continue because they don't want you to think they are losing it for you! You know those snide comments or "joking" comments you slip into conversation? Yea, you're not that sneaky and they can still hurt! Weight is a very personal thing and unfortunately a str...

Meeting My Birth Mom Part 2: The Gifts

After the initial meeting and conversation with my Bio Mom and her Husband, we met again to spend a majority of the following day together. This day didn't start as smoothly as the first, but there were still so many parts of the day that were like little gifts for me to open. Throughout this period of time of getting to know one another, I was able to see glimpses into the life of my bio grandparents and mom. This is a gift I treasure. I was able to learn of some of the hardships that were overcome by previous generations and present ones. A gift. I heard tales of tragedy, redemption and growth. A gift. It's like I was taken on a little journey of continued discovery about the threads that make up part of the fabric that I am, that my Bio Mom is, and where some of our strength to endure comes from. Even as she would tell stories about her parents and grandparents, hearing her tell them, gave me more clarity on who she is as well. How she remembers things, ...

Reenie's Ramblings

Search This Blog