The Importance of Dinner

October is a total faceplant. There's really no other way to say it, is there?

See, back in the good 'ole days, this month was just about scouting out the neighbor who gave out the King Size Peanut M&Ms for Halloween.

Now, Fall is like HELLO I'M HERE, and we really have no choice but to open the door. Somehow, pumpkins are ending up in lattes. People are talking about being Nicki Minaj for Halloween. And the weather just went from sweaty to sweater. (I couldn't even begin to tell you what that is in Celsius.)

School/work/life is feeling undeniably fo'real, and we're all sorta pretending that we have our $#!% together. Except if we're being honest, we don't, and it's totally cool.

We're really just trying to make it through Monday/Tuesday, with all our good humor in tack. Autumn, dudes! This shindig is a dinner sort-of-conversation.

That's life on the lately, speaking of which. Last night, I had dinner with 3 strangers, 2 friends, and 1 Georgetown VIP. It was one of the best things I've done in awhile--if for no reason other than that it was out of routine.

Routine is a tricky bugger. My routine includes a mind-blowing amount of peanut butter banana oatmeal, my favorite well-worn boots,  chapstick for dayz, Gmail inbox'in, walks to and from the business school, feedly, iced coffee in mason jars, friends, infinity on a simple gold chain, Todoist, messy ponytails, yoga gone digital, Pandora Film Scores, and a Spotify playlist or two.

But that's a double-edged sword. And sometimes I wonder if we can become too caught up in our comfortable routines of who we see, what we do, and where we go. Suddenly, the daily becomes the weekly becomes the monthly. Routine is comfy! I don't know about you, but comfy reigns supreme in my world...right up there next to chocolate-covered pretzels.

As I walked home last night, I began to consider the importance of dinner. Homegirl say what?

Dinner, as it occurred to me last night, is a really big effin deal. You're totally raising an eyebrow, but roll with the punches. Let's jump in!

Breakfast is laid-back; lunch is casual; and coffee is lovely. For each though, we're busy keeping it funky fresh. We got a whole day to do!

There's something inherently charming about the onset of nightfall. The security blanket of night allows us to be a little bolder in our actions and words. With an evening curtain of darkness, we find a certain cozy comfort that nudges us to loosen the tie of 9-5 life and the straight-laced obligations of being human.

That's not to say all dinners are formal, lengthy, or even the same.

Sunday suppers feel familial. And the word "supper" mainly just sounds old-fashioned--like Momma would be proud of our lingo. Sunday is the high five between tradition and straight chillin'. There's couches and really good-bad TV shows and ignoring our total case of the impending Mondays.

Wednesdays are somewhere between Grilled Cheese-ville and "Just tryna make it." Quick and dirty. Eaten amidst the disarray of a week. Mismatched dishware is the perfect match for this crazy hump day situation.

Friday dinners are my favorite. They're all over the dang place. But always with the people I most want to see after a long week. Fridays are when I make the effort to see you and when I hope you make the same effort too.

It's when you're willing to treat yo'self because surviving an entire week just doesn't get enough credit. Fridays are for friends. For bottomless wine, bad chinese food, great pizza, solid beer, unbounded conversation, and the kind of homeskillets that will endure all of the above.

Here's the truth: these musings are wacky with a whole lot of whatttttttt?! It's just a penny for our midweek thoughts and the gentle incentive to reconsider an evening meal.

So consider this your open invitation to dinner. It's my way of saying, "Hey, you're great!" Because that's the truth. Let's get out of our dang routines, and go back to the basics of good food + good company.

This dinner is mainly casual and mostly just an excuse for whatever strikes our fancy. Maybe we'll straight chill over Chipotle. Maybe we'll linger past the plate and into life talk territory. Maybe we'll figure out how not to completely faceplant through October.

Orrrrrr maybe we'll trade secrets about which neighbor is giving out the King Size Peanut M&Ms?

HOLLA. Yes, let's hope it's that one.

On Beauty & Rainy Day Soup

There's sometimes when beauty just is flat out overrated.

I'm talking about the days when pajamas are looking pretty dang fancy. You're spooning with Ben & Jerry. And you're on the verge of 'intimate relationship' with Netflix.

These are the moments we don't like to capture because, well.....they're just not "beautiful."

Gimme a hot second though. I understand that we naturally gravitate towards beautiful things: people, places, clothes, food, pictures, etc. Especially beautiful things when an Instagram filter is all up in that business.

That plain jane selfie you just took? Yeah, X-Pro II just turned you into a dark and stormy Ryan Gosling of sorts. And Sutro? Well, now hello flannel meets 21st century artsy-but-don't-call-me-hipster. And that completely unimportant cupcake you just ate? LOOOOOO-FIIIIIII to get 'dem colors poppin'. Don't worry though...if something is actually beautiful, we'll just shout #nofilter at the top of our social media lungs to compensate.

But it's kind of a bummer. Those pajama rainy days, solo movie marathons, and ice cream evenings with friends are verifiably AMAZEBALLS. And beautiful or not, I doubt we'd trade them for the world. I'm pointing this out because it I'm guilty of it; because it applies to just about everything (including food); and because sometimes, I wish we didn't crave this constancy of beauty.

Take, for instance, soup. Lentil soup is not one of those things you're supposed to get excited about. It's sort of the the homely stepsister. And who's going to wax poetic about that? Point taken.

This lentil soup, however, might blow your socks off. It's not red-carpet material and likely never will be. But I'll be darned if it isn't near perfect for a rainy day with some crusty baguette and a killer movie. This soup is for the Tuesdays when Sinatra is singing you a tune or two in the background. It's for time simply spent with family and friends who don't give a flying monkey's butt what you do or don't look like. The days when you're just doing you--with #nofilter.

And you know what? There's something souper beautiful about that.

Rainy Day Lentil Soup

This soup is painfully easy rainy day comfort food. And it oddly reminds me of my dear roommate P, who likes lentils like she likes me--without any condition of aesthetics. For the basic recipe, there's only 5 ingredients, including water and salt & pepper, which shouldn't even count. You can get jazzy if that's your jam, or just stick with the basics and call that a beautiful day. 

Ingredients: 1 cup lentils 5 cups water 1 cube chicken/vegetable boullion 1 tsp cumin salt/pepper

Optional (add as many or as few as you want): 1 carrot, sliced 1 cup mushrooms, sliced 1/2 cup bell pepper, diced 1/2 cup potato, diced 1/4 cup parsley or cilantro, chopped 1/2 cup chopped chicken, beef, or ham *pretty much anything goes

Place lentils, water, boullion, cumin, and any optional ingredients to a medium pot. Bring mixture to a boil and then simmer for 45 minutes on low-medium heat. Enjoy, and have a beautiful day.

-lexi

Recipe: The Best Salmon Ever

This is one of the recipes that you need to bookmark. Uh like, kinda immediately. Because it’s that good. Better than good! Great. And easy too.

This is one of those recipes that’s going to make you a seafood believer.

One that will make fish haters proclaim, “JUST KEEP SWIMMING!”

One that will knock the gills off even the most refined of fish lovers.

Are you suspicious? Yes, I know all these promises seem fishy.The proof is in the pictures though, right? Let’s you and me do this.

We begin with the star player of the show: salmon!

This is important. With so few ingredients, this part is all sorts of crucial. Pick it well, and you end up with an Academy Award-winning dish. Pick not-so-well, and you end up with a downward spiral more out of control than Lindsey Lohan’s adolescent years.

Soo…salmon. Fresh (not frozen!) salmon is a must for this dish. Preferable wild, rather than farm-raised. But that one is your prerogative. 

Feeding a family of 4? 2 lbs should do it.

Date night for 2? 1 lb should be just fine.

From there, we go all “Top Chef.” Grab your sharpest knife. Tallie-ho!

Skin that salmon, working carefully. Keep the knife at a narrow angle, and work slowly to ensure the skin and meat separate.

Dull knives + dancing to Maroon 5 = bad news bears.

In other words, I’d advise you to watch a YouTube video to learn about skinning a piece of fish. Because if Tom Colicchio saw my skinning job, I’d be on the chopping block. Whatever, at least I still have Maroon 5 and my dance moves.

Now that your fish is skin-free, let’s tackle the marinade. This shiz is easy! Four-ingredient easy, may I add.

Dijon, brown sugar, rice vinegar, and soy sauce. It’s like marriage.

(All the good parts, at least..)

Note the soy sauce! That’s Chinese soy sauce…not Japanese. Yes, there’s a diff. No, I have no idea what that diff is.

I play it safe, so as to avoid disgracing my dearest little Chinese grandmother. Just go with some sort of soy sauce, and I’m sure you’ll save yourself from disgracing any Asian ancestors you may or may not have.

Now that you’ve made a marinade that tastes like crack and saved yourself from the impending doom of Asian ancestors, it’s time for some action.

Place the fish in the marinade for 10 minutes, flipping after 5 minutes.

While you wait for the fish to marinade, start heating your barbecue to medium heat.

We use a charcoal grill. Mom swears it’s better. Like rainbows, ponies, and shooting stars better.

Who can argue with that? Not me.

Grease your grill well, or the barbecue will end up eating more of the fish than you will.

Epic bummer.

Have PAM, will travel!

Grill for 4 minutes on each side, basting with remaining sauce.

You can guess the plan from here.

Fork. Salmon. Happiness.

Bookmark. Recipe. Now.

Because this is one of those recipes that’s a one-way ticket to utter tastebud nirvana.

The Best Salmon Ever

My mom has been making it for salmon this years, after loosely adapting it from a magazine article. Nobody remembers the real name of the recipe though because our entire family now refers to it as “The Best Salmon Ever.”  It’s simply downright fantastic--so good that friends who have tried our recipe have called us up late at night just to tell us that it is indeed the “Best Salmon Ever.”

Serves 4

2 lbs salmon, fresh (not frozen!!!)

1 tbsp soy sauce
3 tbsp brown sugar
2 tsp dijon mustard
1 tsp rice vinegar

1. Wash and skin the salmon.
2. Combine the soy sauce, brown sugar, mustard, and rice vinegar.
3. Place fish in the marinade for 10 minutes, flipping once after 10 minutes.
4. While the fish is marinating, grease and heat your barbecue to medium heat.
5. Grill fish for 4 minutes per side.
6. Remove from grill, and serve.