I’m not proud of what happened last week. Just a few short years ago, I was a poor post-college student with a TV that basically had no purpose. My roommate and I sometimes watched movies, but network television didn’t come in, and we were against (/couldn’t afford) getting cable or a new TV. Now that I’m in my mid twenties and [slightly] less poor, I’ve upgraded to fully-functioning TV with both cable AND Netflix (fancy, I know). After finishing up How I Met Your Mother (six seasons) and Keeping Up With The Kardashians (sorry, I know), I decided to give Revenge a try this past Tuesday. By Friday, I had surged through 13 episodes, by Saturday afternoon I had finished all 22 episodes of season 1. When 6:00 on Saturday night came around, I had my credit card out, ready to subscribe to Hulu so I could watch the first two episodes of the new season. I couldn’t stop.
In my defense, the boy and I had our first “hibernation day” of the season on Saturday. Even though it’s sad to watch the warmth drain away from Minnesota, the colder weather makes way for these perfectly lazy days: a Saturday or a Sunday where you do not leave the house, and instead stay holed up and hibernating. For instance, Saturday we slept until noon, and then I watched episode after episode of Revenge while he worked on the headboard for the bed he’s building us…we had different levels of productivity needs that day.
Although I’m in deep with my Revenge obsession, I realize it may have been a bad idea to start watching Revenge the same week that I finished reading Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I now look at everything with a suspicious eye, finding conspiracy everywhere. After a few hours of straight TV on Saturday, I decided I needed an activity to keep my hands busy while my mind was taking in all the murder and mayhem. The boy requested I bake “something fall-ish” for our first hibernation day. I grabbed the leftover apple cider from our fridge, a honeycrisp apple, and got baking…with the TV still on in the background, obviously.
I’m in love with Fall in a big, bad way. This weekend the boy and I had a full-out Fall weekend, and I went a bit nuts with the baked goods. I should explain that when I say “full-out Fall weekend,” I really mean that I went to “Deer Camp.” Yes, the magical season of deer hunting is upon us, and the boy is walking around with the same gleeful, giddy smile that I carry all holiday season…so it’s like I get it. You know, sort of.
Across 70-acres of southern Wisconsin lies the elusive Deer Camp. I’ve actually mentioned this place before, but that was during the summer when it was but a pretty, lush, creek-lined property. Sure, it’s still beautiful, but here’s the gist of Deer Camp: It’s a house on a hill that’s barely visible from the road because of the tall trees that cover nearly every inch of the land. In several of these trees are strategically-placed tree stands. Where there aren’t any trees, there are food plots to keep the deer happy. Fat and happy.
To me, Deer Camp is just an excuse to hibernate, bake, and drink wine while gazing outside at the pretty Fall trees…and that is just precisely what I did. To start my Fall weekend/Deer Camp experience off the right way, I made the best Fall breakfast a girl (or boy) could ask for: brown butter pumpkin waffles.
I’ve mentioned before that I go through ridiculous food phases. For instance, in high school I would eat an Asiago bagel with plain cream cheese for lunch every day. And I mean literally every day. For the past two years, my phases have been concentrated on breakfast; Until recently, I’ve eaten old-fashioned oats with almond butter and honey every single morning. I’d bring it to work, I’d eat it on the weekends, I’d feel sad when I went out to brunch instead of having my oats at home. It was kind of sick, really.
The thing about these phases is that when they stop, they STOP , and are replaced with an aversion. In an instant I’ll be left without a go-to meal.
After my almond butter oatmeal phase abruptly ended, I was left scrambling for my next big breakfast thing. Enter Greek yogurt, fruit, and granola. Simple? yes. Expensive? ugh, yes. Greek yogurt is already twice as expensive as regular yogurt (because they need to use twice the milk), fruit is never cheap (especially if you try to buy organic), but granola? Why does granola think it should be so expensive? Get off your high granola horse.
Since my food phases are long-running and borderline obsessive, I knew I needed to cut the cost of at least one of the three elements of my new breakfast equation. So, here it goes…
Dear expensive boxed granola: You’re too into yourself. We’re done.
Dear Homemade Peanut Butter Nutella Granola: This is the start of something real and lasting. Can’t you feel it?