Tag "leek"

lean leek pie

It must have been around this time last year that the idea of this blog started sprouting somewhere in my tired, sleep-deprived, new mom brain. Back at that time, I was looking for something to keep my mind occupied when it was not crumbling under the weight of dirty diapers; something that I can put the tiniest shreds of energy left in, so that at the end of a long day I would feel as if I’d actually done something that day; that no, breastfeeding and baby-carrying are not the only functions I perform in my life.  I don’t exactly remember the specifics of how I reasoned that starting a blog with a cranky two month old permanently attached to me was a good idea; frankly though, I don’t really care. Amnesia is often a welcome friend when you’re past the newborn stage.

But what I do remember is that before I “officially” (what, you didn’t get the party invite?) started this blog, I did spend a considerable amount of time tossing and turning at night trying to decide on one thing: should I blog in English or Macedonian? English is by far the language I am most comfortable writing in; all of my higher level education and about 90% of my professional experience has been in English. Macedonian is my mother tongue but I’ll reluctantly admit to this: I am still having trouble finding my proper writing voice in Macedonian (everything I write in Macedonian sounds to me as if someone else wrote it) or perhaps I never developed one. I guess I could have taken the challenge to blog in Macedonian but I also thought about all those unfortunate future readers who happen to not know Macedonian and would (for whatever reason) want to read my ramblings…On the off chance that there would be at least a couple of them, I wasn’t going to risk it.

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Crusty Onion and Cheese Muffins

The date of my last post is almost a month and a half in the past AND it’s in a calendar year that we’ve left behind. Happy 2012 folks! I don’t usually make a big deal about New Years but 2011 has been big for us. Let’s just say 10 kilos big.  Ognen big. Parenthood big.

For those of you wondering where the heck I’ve been hiding, let me set the record straight and tell you that no, we didn’t go on some exotic trip to a nice warm place with palm trees and a constant stream of cocktails. Ha! Instead, I’ve faced the reality of being a full time working mom which basically feels like having 2 full time jobs. And the fact that Ognen still routinely wakes up at odd hours at night and needs demands my attention adds a third shift to these 2 jobs. Yes, yours truly does feel as if she’s working around the clock. Remember this? And before you go off thinking that I am (once again) complaining, let me just tell you: I’m not.

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I spent a great deal of my childhood afternoons eating pies. They were always homemade, with a rich filling and perfect pastry. It required a good amount of jaw-stretching to be able to take a good bite with everything in it; be it eggs and leeks or spinach and cheese, there was always so much of it that it often made you want to just bury your face in it.

My late grandmother lived across from my elementary school and was a pie wizard. Let me rephrase that – she was a kitchen wizard with a specialization in pie magic. The only thing she did wrong (pie-wise) was to make a really critical pie-lover out of many people (myself included). I have by now abandoned all hope that I’ll ever truly fall in love with someone else’s leek pie, ever again. And, you know, I’ve had a LOT of pies in my life.

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Penne Tuna Casserole

Many years ago (back in the previous millennium!), I spent my senior year of high school as an exchange student in a little place called Thomasville, GA, in the US. Beyond meeting some pretty cool people (some of which I’ve kept in touch with over the years) my year as an exchange student was, all taken into consideration, one of the strangest years of my life so far. I guess the fact that I was a hormonal teenager who moved from a 700K country capital city to a 20K Southern US town didn’t help any. The year involved changing host families halfway through my stay as well as a series of culture shocks which can easily fill a whole book. Meanwhile, as a background noise, bombs were being dropped a borderline away from where my family lived. Did I say it was a strange year? But beyond strange, it was also a year of growing.

And by growing, I don’t only mean the maturing-emotionally kind of growth. There was also some serious physical growth; all of it, sadly, on the x scale. The summer I graduated I came back home weighing 10kg/22lbs (every single gram of it pure fat) more than I did when I left Macedonia, even though I was on the the cross country AND the tennis team and ran at least 5miles every day cutting like a knife through the worst humidity I am yet to know. I wonder what would have happened to me if I weren’t that physically active. I probably would have required two airplane seats on the way back home.

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