incipient san francisco

May 28

My apartment constantly smells like bacon, my hair is always misbehaving, I overcook the cauliflower and never bake anymore…I’m at home, in Vancouver, where rain coats, rubber boots and umbrellas are the flirty, flowery sundresses people are wearing at home in Oslo at the moment. My hair is telling a story about getting out of bed way to early to care, doing my hour of commuting out to Burnaby before starting work at 7am. It’s chilly, rainy and perfectly unglam here. Still, I am feeling the love. Not only from an incredible man (surpresa!), but from friends and neighbors and co-workers, sharing moments of stolen sunshine in my garden, eating gelato even on rainy afternoons and random late night visits for manhattans and last year’s brandied cherries.

I went to the opening party of Matchstick coffee on Saturday night, the warmest night of the year so far. Such a beautiful space and awesome people - which reminds me, my company is opening a new cafe too. I’m not much involved, sorta watching them all run around as if it was a movie, but of course, I am busy with my own things. It’s the time of year the harvest of my work is literally coming in, and I am happy it’s all good. Mostly very good. But back to the party - there’s not much need for air conditioning in Vancouver usually, but the meet and greet was a slippery face experience. Friends had beads of sweat in their mustaches, ladies’ makeup melted into gelato. I had boob sweat, sweet bread and four pimm’s cup before I called it the night and wandered home.

At my porch, watching the street and the summer-like night, I thought “this is my life right now. Tonight I liked it”. Better enjoy those moments, they don’t seem to come by often enough anymore.

May 15

I made a lot of marmalade this week. The best thing about making marmalade is that you feel successful and domesticated for no reason at all, except from being good at waiting. Vancouver is driving me a little insane for being cold and uninhabitable even in springtime, but I guess citrus season is ending, so there’s lots of dirt cheap citrus around. Scored 1.5kg of oranges for $3 the other day! So instead of mourning the cold spring, I made more marmalade than I will need in a lifetime. Unless I befriend some marmalade lovers, then I can probably give away some…I have a serious problem with anything jam or pickles. I love making it for the obvious reasons mentioned above, but rarely eat them. Marmalade is a whole different story - I love the intriguing bitterness of a blend of citrus fruits, and I can imagine so many things it will taste delicious with! Toast with marmalade and tea sounds so nice for cold spring mornings - I live in a mansion after all. Speaking of jam, I keep begging my friends to send me suggestions for hot jams, the music kind, to take me through spring - I need a new soundtrack for my old life!

Apr 25

I’m back. From Africa, Norway, New York and Portland - and finally landed on my toes in Vancouver two days ago. My return included bringing back Colleen - best friend and loaner of all things cashmere and more regularly, her apartment in Greenpoint. She makes the coffee, I cook the dinner. We both hate the rain, and we both love long walks while talking about boring shit. So that’s what we’ve done. Today, she’s off back to New York, I am back to too much work.

Ever listen to music and the song you’re listening to becomes your every inhalation and exhalation? You think: If my life was a movie, this song would be playing right now, in this exact moment…That’s what happened with “All of the lights” this morning.

I’ve got to clean my ~~head~~ house. There’s also so much fun and frivolous stuff to tell you (I went hiking in a beautiful park in Kenya, fell in love with springtime, met some amazing people, made the ultimate chicken salad, decided to get a dog (again)…tried Mad Men/fell asleep). I’ll get to it. But first…more coffee.

What’s the soundtrack to your life?

Apr 2

Some days, this is what my lunch break looks like, and that is not so bad. Took the first picture in Rwanda, but that was last week, the lower picture in Kenya this past weekend. As per usual, my time in Nairobi was…the perfect storm. A few meetings, frisbee, drinks, friends, new friends, road trip, hiking. Zebras, monkeys, buffalos, hippos. A beautiful lunch by lake Naivasha, watching Longonot in the dusk, hot jams. More hot jams in the hot car, a shared love for Marmalade. Rainy season started, a slow Sunday morning at home, dishes, two brunches, more frisbee, books on a blanket in the shade, lazily scratching some fresh mosquito bites. I learned about mobile wallets and crop insurance. Kenyan health care. I’ve been a little sick, mostly tired, sad to be leaving too soon. Hard to believe a few weeks ago I said I was feeling tired, because now I am really tired, but also really happy.

Sunday night we ate all the leftovers from a few days of everything, sitting by the kitchen counter, catching our breaths. I think I remembered to say more than once that I am grateful for Nairobi. Green peas, green beans, spilled beans. Pickled onions, sausages, truths, negronis and goodbyes.

Mar 27

I’m still in Rwanda, it’s been a sticky past couple of weeks with tears, laughter and sheer, bitter frustration. If I didn’t know it isn’t so I would have guessed I’m losing my mind, but I think it is just the fact that I have never quite landed the last five months that is finally getting to me. It is okay, but happy it’ll be more mellow the coming five months.

Even when traveling, I have routines. I insist on bringing and making my own coffee every morning. I take upon knitting projects and knit my way there, wherever that is. My fondness for familiarity both helps and hurts when there are so many unfamiliar things filling my life these days. The joy of reading news, blogs and twitter is more satisfying than when at home, the pain of knowing who and what you love is far away hurts. Can’t believe these words are leaving my fingertips, but I even miss Vancouver. I miss my stoop, my neighbors, my colleagues and my set-in-stone routines. But for now, it’s East Africa for a little longer, going to Nakumatt to find my bliss in a bag of Hario wine gum, like I always do.

Mar 20

I cried when I walked home to pack on Saturday, Sunday in Montreal was too blissful to believe was real, and when I woke up under a mosquito net in Kigali this morning, it was hard to imagine why I would ever be hesitant about going. Had one night staying with friends in Nairobi, preparing for Rwanda, and when I left their house at the crack of dawn yesterday morning, I felt everything was going to be okay. Also, there are some incredible people here that I am excited about seeing more of after visiting washing stations around the country, and by sunset tonight I’ll be swimming in Lake Kivu. Even being far away from the sea, there are ways to “get your fix” as my friends explained last night.

Hate me now? How about this distraction - I need doable recipes for next weekend, where I’ll be back in Nairobi and I’m sure I’ll want to cook. Also, I have unintentionally started lying about my age, rounding up. Every year it happens around this time, my birthday is in May and…hold on: I like getting older. It somehow gives me leverage, and I enjoy all the things I know now I had no idea about ten years ago. My life is not ordinary and has included some heartbreaks that won’t be fixed, but somehow, I feel chosen to have such a healthy dose of it. Strong people don’t just happen.

Mar 18

I came to Montreal for the first time on a freezing cold day in the fall, with a monstrous heart break and not enough warm clothes. I was pretty sure I was going to fail miserably on a presentation I was giving, but instead I fell in love with a city and some people that will always mean a lot to me. First they scooped up whatever was left of my heart and then we just ate for a week to end.

Needless to say, I’ve been wanting to come back for a while, and with this layover, I met old friends again, and ate some old favorite dishes. Not to mention it was the pretties day of spring I’ve seen in years. I immediately promised myself I would never miss another springtime! Seasons genuinely makes me happy. The baked eggs at Lawrence is an amazing breakfast, the kind of savory meal that just needs some beignets to really make it feel like the weekend. So I ate the beignets, and had some coffee. And some more coffee. We walked everywhere, talked for hours, and then it was time to leave.

East Africa up next, more about that another time.

Mar 14

leave the gown, take the cannoli

In between giving bad sexting advice (a service I already started charging for months ago), color arranging my clothes and flaking on doing laundry, it turns out: I haven’t forgotten how to cook. Dinner a une is less fun than dinner a deux, but whatevs. I made the most delicious dinner from produce I bought in my still-to-me-new neighborhood here in Vancouver. As you can see from the picture, I am also hoarding cheap enamel from crappy markets around the equatorial line: too beautiful not to show off.

It’s a bean salad (just cooked green beans) with quick-pickled onion. Ideally I would use shallots, but didn’t have any. Just leave the finely chopped onion/shallots in a blend of apple cider and sherry vinegar for half an hour, sprinkle the cooked beans with olive oil, salt and pepper and chives, toss over the onion/shallots and some parsley. Voila!

The artichoke takes a little longer, but is maybe more interesting flavor wise. Remove the outer leaves to get closer to the heart, half it and put it in a bowl of cold water and squeeze citrus into the water. Lemon and lime works well for this purpose. When you’re ready to cook them, heat olive oil in a pan, drain artichokes and add them to the pan with salt and pepper. I add some white wine, although probably not necessary, some fresh herbs (thyme today) and cook them until tender. I also used chili flakes and threw them in at the last minute. Found the spice inspiring and interesting as I served all of this with braised pork shoulder. And let’s be honest, I have claimed to hate spicy food, but eat hot sauce on my frijoles seven days a week, most weeks around this time of year.

Then, I baked the bread (60% white flour, 40% whole wheat), which I later ate with raspberry jam and butter while drinking a negroni and giving more bad advice, this time about work.

My landlords have gone, hopefully only temporarily, insane and finally turned on the heaters so it’s 40C inside. I opened all the windows and am sitting on the bed, listening to the rain and the traffic outside, wearing an ugly t-shirt, writing. I guess it’s official: I love to be home. Wherever that is.

Mar 13

I just did the grossest thing I’ve ever done after a return to home - I went out with my friends for all-you-can-eat fish n’chips. Now, I want to die.

I over-ate because I am over-worked and have only four days at home before I take off, but before I land in Nairobi early next week, I have a layover in Montreal Sunday morning. Just about long enough to hit up Lawrence food and see my friends at Myriade. I’m going back to East Africa, and I guess my crush on the region is now official enough to say I am confident that once I get there, I will be excited about it.

Speaking of geographical chemistry - on my way home from Central America, I stopped in California to celebrate a much beloved friend and a wee bit of work-related affairs. It is just that feeling of belonging to California that is so hard to shake - but unfortunately, life is not black and white, not enough for California and me to be together right now. However, I miss every bit of it, and while waiting for a friend at Tartine bakery, I ate all the things I dream about eating when I am far away. Among sugar and wheat and all things delicious, I couldn’t help but order everything I have craved the last eight months. This is what I ate: Morning bun, bread pudding and chocolate croissant. While I know what San Francisco and New York has got is only stuff, and I really don’t want to be so serious about stuff, I can’t help but wonder how my life with will ever be resuscitated?

That being said, I just started a dough for bread, and I’m about to flake on meeting friends in a bar and go grocery shopping instead. Shhhhh…I wish I was better at life, and better at explaining it, but at least I love to bake. Right now I’m so tired and have a few days of a lot of work ahead of me - but being at home will keep me focused, nourished and nice.

Mar 8

cry, baby

Logic has never been my strength. I’ve told you how I love the radio show This American Life. I’ve most often listened to it through endless mornings with coffee, late nights with cocktails. Since I do not have endless mornings or late nights very often, I have a little bit of catching up to do, and came across an episode i found in particular fascinating a couple of weeks ago.

I laughed loud when I came to act four, where Q’s Brett Martin tells about his experience as someone who never fails to cry at a movie on an airplane, even those that are dumb, cheesy or just plain awful. Man, did I find my soulmate in this guy! Most movies are selected by viewers for their entertainment value - and people that chooses to watch a movie anywhere but on a plane has in common that everyone actually chose the movie. Airplane movies are chosen by the airline for a captive audience who have nothing in common except traveling to the same destination. The goal is to keep everyone calm. Airplane movies are bland films chosen not for any other quality than being as unobjectionable as possible. I watch comedies and romantic comedies. All of them.

And that’s why I was so fascinated by Brett Martin, when he talked about how he cried in “Sweet Home Alabama”. All four times he saw it. It isn’t that he’s a softie, he doesn’t cry in the circumstances most people do. And after some deep soul searching, he has concluded he isn’t afraid of flying. There’s just something about being on a plane.

Having the plane crying syndrome myself, it makes my eyes water for the stupidest things, and movies I’ve sobbed through over the last couple of weeks only includes: Happy Feet 2, J Edgar Hoover and Contagion. New Year’s eve - where I essentially lost it, just like I did over Crazy, Stupid Love. It’s like my heart is a wobbly pile of jello whenever I get on a plane. I fall in and out of love on planes, I write letters so long, so intense and so enlightened (or au contraire, from reading them over after landing) I don’t know how my friends can stand it. It must be the lack of oxygen getting to my brain. Flying back to Vancouver soon, wonder what I will cry for this time? Like a lunatic, a lost girl, a traveler, I will let it all go…

ps I don’t know where that picture of Ryan Gosling is from, and I hope I will never see him feed ducks in a movie! I would cry so much my heart would burst into a million pieces. Logic has never been my strength.

Mar 1

in houston airport, while i’m drinking an unnamed “medium roast” cup of airport coffee and listening to other people’s conversations, i’m flicking through websites with recipes, drooling over salty chocolate cookies, cassoulets, browsing travel sites, worrying too much about work.

i’m on my way home after a short trip to central america, and it’s nuts, but i’ll tell you anyways that i’m headed back to guatemala 36 hours after i get home. in 72 hours i’m at this very same airport again. but before i leave, i need to re-center, re-pack and do my job: taste coffee. i’m half-way planning an impromptu camping trip in california next weekend, but it seems far away, distant, like another world.

in two weeks i’ll be in east africa again. i don’t know when i’m supposed to breathe, let alone when those mentioned cookies will be made, but if i get a strike of super-powers it should be this weekend. truth is, if i can even eat a bowl of muesli and listen to the news before i’m off again, i’ll feel accomplished and satisfied for no reason at all. but home is golden.

Feb 23

What may come as a surprise, is that I kind of miss real winter. At least, I miss the Scandinavian February sun, and my favorite thing about this part of year is that you can occasionally pretend like it’s springtime. There are wonderful, sunny days and nasty snow-in days, and there’s no warning of either when you go to bed at night. And then, there’s fastelavn. When it comes to indulging in sweet, meaningless food; empty calories of all kinds, sugar rushes and cherry cola blushes, you can count on me.

As the equivalent to the Carnival, Fastelavn (known as Shrovetide in English) is the feast running up to Lent - the period of fasting and abstinence. While my italian-canadian colleagues at work discussed what to give up during Lent, I googled recipes for fastelavn buns: Sweet buns filled with whipped cream. I made the sweet dough in my PJs Sunday morning and while the dough was rising, I ran, phoned my mom, listened to This American life, inspected my garden and did all those Sunday things people do and I always long for - and since I want you to be as happy and successful as I am on a Sunday, I will list the recipe I used.

There’s a plethora of recipes for sweet buns. The recipe I chose calls for a pretty common method of making sweet doughs, although several others are using the method for making biscuits and scones, where cold butter is cut into the flour. Either or, avoid working the dough too much.

200g butter

700g milk

20g dry yeast

170g sugar

1000g all purpose flour

2 tsp cardamom

1 tsp baking powder

egg for eggwash

1 serving = about 40 pcs

Melt butter, add milk and heat to 37°C, stir the yeast in until it’s dissolved. Add sugar, cardamom and baking powder to the flour, make a hole in the flour mixture and pour in the li quid. Work dough until smooth, but not too firm. Cover with plastic wrap and let it rise until it doubles in size. Roll out buns, adding as little flour as you can, place on baking sheet and let rise about 30 mins.

Brush with eggwash, cook at 225°C for about 10-15 mins, or until golden. Cut in halves once it’s cold and fill with whipped cream. I also used raspberries and sprinkled with confectioners sugar.

Feb 22

i’m home. so home. i came back last sunday to a collision of bills, magazines and junk mail, pouring out of the mailbox. stale coffee beans in the kitchen, smelly sink. in between tons of work (most days trying to fit two of them into one), i have been baking and cooking. gained about ten pounds in ten days. drinking wine and all my favorite cocktails: negroni, hanky pankies and boulevardiers - some while leaning over the bar at pourhouse to tell my favorite bartenders all about nothing. it is good to be home. it is strangely enough nice to know i’m about to leave again in a few days.

successes in the kitchen of my new home includes: valentine’s day cookies - heart shaped sugar cookies with pink frosting. a soup from heaven with vegetables and chicken. soft boiled eggs on fresh baked bread. fennel and citrus salad. chicken cacciatora with two bay-leaves too many. truth is: i have an electrical stove now, and it is making me re-learn everything from making oatmeal in the morning to braising meat. old dog learning new tricks, there’s a saying about that, but i don’t remember it.

Feb 4

Woke up this morning wondering what the weather was like, before I remembered, I am in Nairobi in January. It will be very hot and sunny.

Very hot and sunny was what it was Friday afternoon too. Riding a taxi from a warehouse in the middle of the industrial part of Nairobi, the taxi ran out of gas. Well, that’s what is reasonable to believe after the taxi driver abandoned the car, jumped into a Matatu and the 35C outside temperature felt cooling compared to the inside of the taxi. I was essentially loosing my mind. With boob sweat pouring and melting mascara, I did the only thing that made sense at the moment - called a friend and asked to be picked up. Genuinely felt bad for him the next hour as we slowly moved through Nairobi traffic and feeling worse now, knowing he wasn’t home until late that night.

Rest of the story goes: I was much too late, too angry and too sweaty to cook dinner for my friends Walter and Dayo. While Walter made excellent cocktails (he’s more acclimatized to Nairobi than me), we ordered chinese food and talked about fun and boring stuff we haven’t talked about in too long.

Despite the insane traffic jams, the crime, the heat and the dust and abandoned taxis - it is amazing how much I love this part of the world. The beauty to be found countryside is impossible to describe. The picture of the buffalos was taken from my bedroom in Nyeri! People are nice. I texted my friend when I arrived: I had forgotten how much I love East Africa! That was almost true.

Jan 26

lies and other mind games

i am not sure where to start - in four days, i returned to vancouver, moved apartments, spent no money, cooked delicious food, found a new cafe and screwed up. big time. more about that in a bit. now, i am just waiting to be inspired to actually unpack. in less than 48 hours i will be well on my way to east africa, so that inspiration better come fast! did you know it takes 30 hours to travel from vancouver to nairobi? well, it does.

i screwed up, and for that, i owe my mother an apology. not for the fact that i keep insisting i have not taken a boyfriend/lover that i am hiding from her in new york. there’s no such thing, for real. not only am i boyfriend-less these days, but also country-less, root-less, rest-less. so no wonder i accidentally spoke to her in english, which is why i owe her an apology. all i meant to say, was that i like the tv show downton abbey “so much”. you don’t have to have a degree in linguistics to guess “so much” is not norwegian. in moments over the last couple of years, in intimate moments, half asleep with some american boy next to me, i’ve blabbed away in norwegian - asking what time it is, if we should get up or what, what is it like outside? my default is supposed to be norwegian!

after the language accident with my mom, i started looking for tickets and planning to spend easter at home. also, i instantaneously lied and said i wouldn’t find a boyfriend anywhere but in norway. she caught me in it, it was such an obvious lie. but at least, i’ll go home for easter. my tongue would have to come off otherwise.