Cookies, Passports & Life on the Farm
lovely little things from the homestead, #3
2/1: Even though they’re not new or flashy, they’re exactly what I want today. I’ll probably leave walnuts out of half the dough for the girls… they like their cookies “pure”.
My Chocolate Chip Cookies
120 grams butter (about 8 tablespoons), room temperature
150 grams (about ½ cup) maple sugar or sweetener of choice
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg
½ teaspoon sea salt
Pinch baking soda
1 tablespoon cornstarch
130 grams (about 1 cup) all-purpose einkorn flour (or flour of choice)
3 ounces dark or milk chocolate, chopped into ¼” pieces
¾ cup walnuts, finely chopped
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about five minutes. Add in the vanilla and egg and whisk again until the mixture is well combined.
Add in the sea salt and baking soda. Again, whisk well until completely combined.
Lastly, add in the cornstarch, flour, chocolate, and walnuts. Combine well with a wooden spoon.
Line a baking tray with parchment paper. Use a cookie scoop or large spoon to scoop the dough into balls on the parchment, giving them plenty of space to spread in the oven.
Bake for 9-11 minutes or until the cookies are just set in the middle and slightly golden on the edges. Error on the side of underbaking. Cool on a wire rack and repeat with remaining dough.
2/3:
The secret of life is to waste time in ways that you like.
Jerry Seinfeld
2/5: The suitcases, most of them pretty dusty, were pulled from under the stairs. T-30 days until the Elliott-Family Umbrian Getaway (a month-long trip that deserves a much better title… someone please leave a better one for me in the comments.) Our suitcases have been tucked away in a forgotten corner of our home for many, many months now. Far too many for my taste.
Eighteen years ago, I shoved a few shirts, camping towel, fresh pack of socks, sunglasses, digital camera, and my great-Grandmother’s bible into a newly purchased Kelty pack - setting off to Europe for a grand adventure with not much more than a calling card and stack of travelers cheques. (Yes, kids, this is before cellphones and debit cards could be used internationally.)
For the next few weeks, I take on the roll of comforting my children who are equally excited and anxious about such a large amount of time away from home. I remind them of the adventure that awaits us in the green, hilltop towns of Umbria - the untamed sister of Tuscany, ancient and wild. Without experience of it themselves, they lift their eyes to us for assurance. Will it be wonderful? they wonder. Yes! It will be unexpected and frustrating and wonderful! My love, it will be an adventure!
Upon request, Stuart and I tell them stories.
Stuart barely remembers his first visit to Italy, contracting some sort of flu in Florence that made him so sick, he became delirious. Young and poor, he’d taken to sleeping in a tent in a camping-style hostel without any available home-comforts. For days, he lay sick and motionless in the tent - he shutters now remembering the chills and fever that took over him. Hallucinating and dreaming of home. Eventually, a kind woman from a local church took pity on the young traveling men, inviting them into her home. She gave him a comfortable bed, feeding him plain rice and lemon tea for days until he was strong enough to continue his travels.
Stuart continues his stories as I serve supper, shrimp and grits with roasted vegetables, and we continue to remember. We tell the kids stories of missed trains… horrible taxi drivers… the meaning of “lost in translation”… stories of being robbed… being homesick… tasting new foods and drinking new drinks…
…. and the beauty. OH THE BEAUTY!
In the moment, I feel uniquely grateful to be married to someone who also comes alive not only at home but also on adventures. Though neither Stuart or I are the sort for adrenaline, we are both happy to tuck into a long-flight and submit ourselves to the always-unpredictable-difficulties of travel. For Italy, we will endure all of this and more.
Years ago, our children were younger and we were absolutely desperate for adult-time. Overpaying for a last-minute-babysitter for all eight of our combined children, we made reservations at a local Italian restaurant with our friends, Jess and Natali, and enjoyed a well-deserved “parental time out”. Our feet crossed their threshold after filling our hearts and bellies, and not less than a minute later, one of their children began vomiting. To cut a horrible story short, all twelve of us eventually did the same. After the storm of sickness had passed, Natali reminded us “Well, it’s either a good time now or a good story later.”
And so it goes with travel. The bits that are good are euphoric! And the bits that are bad? Well, those end up being the good/sad/funny/shocking tales we continue telling for years to come…
I now tell my children stories of accidentally wandering into an all-male bar in France, not understanding why there were no women, and confidently ordering a steak and beer with my other female companions…
… I tell them stories of accidentally speaking Spanish to Italians and Italian to Spaniards…
… of tasting olive oil straight from the press and aged Italian wine in glasses dusty from the cellar…
… I tell them stories of finding hidden restaurants, serving up huge platters of salami, prosciutto, Pecorino, and Parmigiano…
… and fresh truffles casually shaved over “la pasta fatta in casa”…
It was once pointed out to me that travel, like money, doesn’t necessarily change you but it does amplify you, exposing and saturating pieces of your soul that were always there to begin with.
I travel because I never come back the same person. I’m saturated. And I’m the better for it.
2/09: Today entailed a bit of a sheep emergency. For the first time, we had a very pregnant ewe prolapse (I’ll let you Google it if you’re not sure what that means). While I do tend to get a bit squeamish around bodily fluids, I’ve had four babies, so I’m fairly comfortable with doing what needs to be done. These are never my favorite moments … there is a lot of anxiety when the wellness of an animal rests in your hands… and they are not well. So far, she’s responded to the treatment well. After cleaning the prolapse and carefully convincing it to go back inside her body, it so far, has agreed to stay in. My prayer now is that the lambs are delivered safely and her uterus stays exactly where it belongs.
2/10: We opened up Che Vita Getaway to the world today! I feel elated. 20-year-old-Shaye could never have imagined that 38-year-old-Shaye would be taking a group of travelers back to the country she fell in love with all those years ago.
Over the course of the past year, I’ve been carefully curating a trip that will remain in people’s hearts for the rest of their lives. Navigating a new country can be difficult - especially if you want to tap into pieces of it that are off the beaten path. Italy is wonderful for the Uffizzi and Trevi Fountain, no doubt. But this is a different type of trip - one that is mean to fill your heart with the fellowship of fellow travels and locals, fill your belly with rustic farm food, fill your cup with good wine, fill your spirit with inspiration, and encourage you to continue cultivating the beautiful life.
We’ve designed the trip to be easy for people. All you have to do is get to the pickup point - Stuart and I will take care of the rest.
There are only 10 spots available for this trip and some have already been filled. You can learn more about the details of the trip right here. More on this to come! In the meanwhile, let’s appreciate the SURGE and JOY of launching such a dream into the world! Like opening a fresh bottle of Prosecco - the fun is just getting started!
2/12:
Before the recipe was a text it was written by the body. It was cooked.
Unknown
Thinking of a world in which I could write a cookbook without any recipes, but rather, one that taught instinct… physical presence and awareness of the food, the taste, the season at hand. To be aware, really aware, of what you were doing with the food and why. No measurements - after all, your garlic may be different than mine. The same dish made in November will not be made of ingredients that are the same in March.
Have we lost this intuition? How can we get it back? How can we put the recipe in our body?
This is a world I’d like to explore.
Love,
“A commonplace journal is a type of notebook where a person collects and organizes various pieces of information like quotes, observations, ideas, and interesting facts from different sources, essentially creating a personal knowledge repository for future reference and reflection; often used to gather insights from books, conversations, or personal experiences.”
Your trip sounds like a Faith-filled adventure enjoy people, places and beautiful things.