Creamy Roasted Red Pepper Chicken Pasta for One

Hey guys! Sorry I've been neglecting this blog, I've been really busy and also blogging elsewhere.
I thought I'd share a recipe today.  I got the idea to do something with roasted red peppers from Pioneer Woman's recipe, but I didn't have all of the ingredients to make her version.

Creamy Roasted Red Pepper Chicken Pasta

Ingredients:

1 chicken breast

1/2 cup tomato puree

1/2 of a large red bell pepper

1 cup ricotta cheese

1/4 cup milk

1/4 of a large onion

2 cloves garlic

3 tbsp butter

Plenty of salt

Black pepper

Italian seasoning

1 cup Parmesan cheese

Broil or grill the red pepper (skin side up) until the outside is completely blackened.  When finished, remove from heat and place immediately into a sealed ziploc bag (It needs to sweat!)

While the pepper is roasting, melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a large skillet.  Dice the onion and garlic, and saute them in the butter.  Remove to food processor.

Take the pepper out of the Ziploc (be careful! It's suuuuuper hot!) and remove the blackened skin.  Gut the innards from the pepper.  Chop the fleshy part into strips and add to food processor, along with half of the ricotta cheese. Puree until smooth, set aside.

Cut the chicken breast into strips and season liberally with salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning.  Saute in the skillet you used for the onions and garlic until fully cooked.  Dump in the pepper sauce mixture, the remaining ricotta, the Parmesan, and a splash of milk.  Stir until blended, simmer on low to medium heat for a few minutes, adding more Italian seasoning and salt to taste.

Cook the pasta of your choice (I used whole wheat spaghetti) in salted water until al dente, place in bowl.

Using tongs, put the strips of chicken on top of the pasta.  Add more sauce to pasta if desired.  Top with more Italian seasoning or fresh herbs of your choice and plenty of Parmesan cheese.  Enjoy!

Macro Practice

Tonight, while I was sitting on the couch, browsing tumblr and facebook and generally being useless, I looked out the window.  The sun was just starting to set over the snow-covered field.  Suddenly, I had a burst of inspiration.  I bounded up, grabbed my camera and macro filter, pulled on my boots, and ran out the door.  There was a vision in my head of what I wanted to see through my viewfinder, and I didn't click until I found it.

It's that time of year again.  The hints of warmth on the breeze tease my nose with summer's seductive scents.  Daylight Savings Time has passed, and the sun goes down later and later each evening.  My heart is feeling the tug, the memories are flooding back more strongly.  I'm restless.  My legs twitch.  My lungs long for clean, warm air.  The thoughts in my head focus on bonfires, long drives, and open windows.  My soul desires friendship, laughter, naps in the sun, and my favorite dog.  It's nearly impossible to focus on anything for an extended amount of time.  Work drags on and on.  My heart aches for summertime.

Let's Pack Up and Move to California

Otherwise known as California Spring Break: Day 1

The morning of the day I left is a blur of packing, showering, checklists, frantically searching for items I haven't needed since summer, and painting my toenails.  My watch broke into two pieces while I was packing, so Mom and I stopped at WalMart on the way to Flint.  From Flint, Dad and I drove to Eureka and met Kaylie.

I hung out with Kaylie for a while (FINALLY!) before she drove me to the airport.  I checked my suitcase (43.5 pounds. Phew.) and went through the super secret hotel security gate within about 5 minutes.  Then I checked my ticket and headed toward gate 31C.  I walked through a trippy underground corridor with moving sidewalks and light-up glass walls set to music, and finally found concourse C.  "Weird," I thought, "I've never been to this concourse before.  And most of these are commuter flights."

Eventually, I found a departures board.  My flight was listed as on time... at gate A23.  I checked my ticket again, and sure enough, 31C was my SEAT number.  I scolded myself and turned around.

As for the flight itself, I had the aisle seat, and the middle seat was empty, so I had plenty of room-or as close to "plenty of room" as is possible on an airplane.  The family behind me was eating pickles, and the man across the aisle had boiled eggs, so I spent a lot of the flight trying not to breathe.  I read 2 chapters of my philosophy book, watched some late night talk shows, and read the latest issue of AP.

We landed on time, and I headed towards baggage claim.  On the way to the carousel, I saw a small, blonde person with extremely long hair... which, of course, was Jenney.  We hugged, I got my bag, and we got in her mom's truck.  It took around 15 minutes to get back to her house, where I ate some delicious cheese.  We talked in her room until midnight (3 am Michigan time) then I fell asleep when she went to get food.

Sick Day

Last night at work, I noticed my throat starting to scratch and my head starting to hurt.  I swallowed a couple Tylenol, drank some water, and thought nothing of it.
This morning when I woke up, it was worse, but I decided to try to go to church anyway.  I made it to the offering before asking Mom for her keys and heading home.  On the way home I called into work.  Mark told me that I had to have a doctor's note tomorrow, since this is my second sick day.  How convenient for me.

I got home at 11, went downstairs, and went to sleep.  At 4:00, I woke up, ate some lunch, and went back to bed for a couple more hours.  I've been awake from around 6:30 until now, and I'm going to sleep in a couple minutes.  Sore throat, headache, low fever, extreme fatigue... basically, the exact same thing Bo's had lately.

So, I have to go to the doctor tomorrow, pack, go to the library, and finish my lesson plans, before 3:30.  I work 3:30-9 tomorrow night, then 8-2:30 on Tuesday, then I'm leaving for California! I am SO READY for this vacation.  Get ready, Jenney-- I am going to do some HARDCORE relaxing in between our movies, zoo trip, theatre night, cooking, beach days, tacos, Bergsteining, and laughter.

Prayers that I'll feel better soon would be greatly appreciated.  I hate being sick, and it always happens at such inopportune times. :/

Extreme Makeover: My Room Edition

I had Tuesday off, so I decided to tackle a MUCH needed task-- cleaning my room.  And by "much needed," I mean, "I still hadn't unpacked the suitcase I took to my grandparents' house for Christmas."

Before... note the bag from winter retreat, the clothes all over the couch, the junk on the floor, and the wide-angle-lens distortion :)

During... Two boxes of stuff to get rid of, and half the clothes from my closet

Dirty clothes, stuff that goes upstairs, stuff to give away, and trash. Also, my heater.

So. Many. Hangers.

After! Sooo clean! Moved my bed to the other wall, took out the couch, dusted, vacuumed... ahhhh.

My bookshelf. Dan Stadt turned all of those bottles upside down when he stayed in my room at New Years.  I didn't notice for a week.

Another view... note the desk, Peruvian flag, letter on the bed, aaaand, wide-angle lens distortion :)

Mandarin Chicken- The (super) Easy Way

I found all of these pictures on my camera, and I can only guess that I intended to blog this "recipe."  Although, it's not so much of a recipe as it is a way to use store-bought sauce... but it's still delicious.

Gather: instant rice, garlic salt, cumin, an egg, Mandarin Sauce (make your own if you're more ambitious than I am), lemon juice, olive oil, cherry tomatoes (or grape tomatoes. or Roma. or any kind of tomatoes, really), an onion, and one large boneless skinless chicken breast.

Chop the chicken breast into (roughly) 1-inch cubes and sprinkle with garlic and cumin.  

Go easy on the cumin.  It's a pretty distinct flavor (sort of like chili-cheese Fritos) and can be overpowering.

Put a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a frying pan and throw in the chicken, diced onion (about 1/2 cup), and chopped tomatoes (1/2 cup to a cup)

When most of the chicken is white on the outside, and the oil is bubbling, make a well in the middle of your pan.

Turn the heat to medium-high. (I have no idea why I took a picture of this)

Crack your egg into the well and...

...scramble it up with the chicken and veggies

Pour in a capful or two of lemon juice.

Add around 1/8 to 1/4 cup of mandarin sauce

Then turn the heat to low and let it simmer for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally

The sauce will get less... well... saucy... as the food simmers.  

Cut open a couple pieces of chicken to make sure they're fully cooked.

Serve it up over a bed of white rice.  I used instant, but I'm sure "real" rice would be even better.

Yum.

Retreat Recap

(I think I've been neglecting this blog a little bit.  My apologies :/  I've been blogging elsewhere, and have forgotten to stop in here.  Of course, since pretty much only Jenney reads this blog... I don't feel too awful.)

Last weekend was the CRF Winter Retreat, and it was positively epic.  I got to spend tons of quality time with some of my favorite people ever.  Here are a few of the many pictures :)

Maggie, Bruna, and I, shortly after arriving at Portage Lake (approximately 1 am)

Andrea and I on the bus to Caberfae Peaks.

I absolutely LOVE these girls.

Dawn and I are super legit. And by "Dawn and I," I mean, "Dawn."

My non-skiing buddy <3

My best friend <3

I just love my Maggie.

Laughing with Levi is the best thing ever.

Look! A smile!

Errrrrbody do the John Wall, the John Wall, the John Wall

Errrrbody do the Narwhal, the Narwhal, the Narwhal

Wittenbach family Christmas Card photo. Tradition.

I simply adore them

My favorite German cousin

It's SNUGGIE time.

Praying and Pondering.

I've been feeling a tugging on my heart from God regarding what I do with my summers.  I have no idea what this tugging means, if it will lead to something different or simply to a change in my attitude regarding my current plans.  However, I was in the car alone for about 3 hours today.  This song came on towards the beginning of my drive, and I repeated it several times while praying and thinking...particularly about the verse I have pasted below.

I've lived in this place and I've known all the faces

Each one is different, but they're always the same

They mean me no harm, but it's time that I face it

They'll never allow me to change

And I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong

I'm movin' on.

I GOT INTO MOODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Standard Day

Wake Up
Drink a breakfast shake
Go to work
Come home
Flop on couch
Eat dinner
Stare at computer for an hour or so
Shower by 8
In bed by 9
Asleep by 10
No big deal.

Working Girl

So, today I got a job as a cashier at the local grocery store
30-ish hours a week, minimum wage.  One weekend off a month.
It's your typical "I'm 18 and in high school and need money job."
I start training tomorrow.

About an hour after I got home from that interview, my mom called.
"How was your interview?"
"I got the job?"
"Want another one?"
"..."

Apparently, the Spanish teacher at Bo's school is leaving, and they need someone to fill her spot.
On a whim, my mom suggested me.  And the principal got super excited.
So. Now, if the scheduling works out, I will be cashiering 30 hours a week, teaching Spanish on Wednesdays from 8:00-2:30, doing Philosophy online through Moody, and making some serious ca$h.
(My deepest apologies for just spelling cash with a dollar sign. I was possessed momentarily.)

This semester might not end up being so laid-back after all.

It's Not Easy

It’s not easy, being here with you.  So many emotions bubble constantly to the surface, and I struggle to keep my face from betraying them—that would just confuse and upset you even more. 

“Now, was that my sister who was just here?” you ask-after your daughter leaves- and I hurry to the bathroom before you can see my tears.  When Grandpa tells me that you couldn’t remember your name to tell the doctor, my throat closes up and my eyes begin to itch before my brain has registered his entire sentence.  The constant questions about who you are, what we’re doing next, who I am, who your family is, what I’m doing here, and how you’re supposed to perform basic functions—leave me to hide in the bathroom, cry in the car, and blame my puffy eyes on allergies.

It’s not always sad, though, sometimes it’s frustrating.  “What is that you say you’re making?” you’ll ask.  I answer, you put away a dish or two, and then, “Now what is that called that you said you were making?”  This will repeat three or four times, sometimes more.  I get annoyed on the inside, shove the feeling down, and struggle to answer with a smile again.  Within minutes, I’m feeling guilty.  You can’t help it, this repeating of the questions.  I should be happy that you can remember why I’m standing at the stove at all.

I watch you sit down with a newspaper.  Perhaps you remember that the doctor told you to read more, perhaps you just saw it and decided to pick it up.  I know that within minutes, you will be asking questions about its content, what certain words mean, and “Now, Gene, do we know who this thing is talking about?” 

We try to get around the emotion of it all.  We make jokes, we ignore the facts, we pretend like I’m only here to visit my friends.  “Well, even I occasionally forget why I walked into a room,” we say.  It’s easy for me to avoid reality when I’m sitting at home.  I can let the glass be half-full when I’m only remembering, not experiencing.  It’s not easy, being here with you.  Every question, every repeated word, every forgotten name—digs at my heart a little harder, dampens my spirits a little more.

Let's See How Far We've Come

[Typing that title got this song stuck in my head.]


Anyway.  I was reading through an old journal last night (something I do from time to time, when I don't have any books to read at the moment) and came across this poem-written after looking at some childhood photos.  It's from almost exactly a year ago, when I thought nothing would ever get better.  I had lost two close friends, and within a week of its writing, would (temporarily) lose someone I thought I couldn't live without.  It amazes me how clearly I remember writing this, how awful I felt, and how far I've come since then.  God has reshaped and redefined many of my friendships, removed a couple, and--most importantly--reminded me that He is all I truly need.  With the disclaimer out of the way, I'm posting this poem as a reminder... a reminder that God ALWAYS knows what He is doing, and that even when we don't think things will get any better- He knows what will happen.

Oh little girl, with your bad teeth

And stupid glasses

You don't know how lucky you are

Not a care in the world

Always searching for the spotlight

No idea how lucky you are

Your best friend is in your head

He's 18, so he can drive, and he'd never hurt you

You don't understand how luck you are

The only reason for tears is leaving your grandparents

Rejection and loneliness are nothing more than words to sound out

Why can't you see how lucky you are?

Dear little girl, with your sweatpants

And awkward haircut

If only they would tell you how lucky you are

Pain is falling off your bike

Sorrow is flushing your fish down the toilet

Soak in how lucky you are

You don't know the difference between doctrine and a doctor

You just want the waitress to know about Jesus

Oh, sweet little girl, how lucky you are

You never doubt yourself, you always want to be first

No one has ever let you feel anything less than worthy

Oh, my dear, how lucky you are

Your parents know everything, why wouldn't they?

Your tears-only because of physical pain-have no reason to be hidden

Why can't you see how incredibly lucky you are?

Dear sweet little girl, oh awkward little girl

They should have told you what was coming

So that you could appreciate how lucky you are

Those things you take for granted?

They're going to crumble

Friendships, confidence, emotions, sleep...

You'll try to remind yourself how lucky you are

You'll sit awake at 3 am, tears streaming

Abandoned, lonely, confused, and deserted

Wishing you still felt how lucky you are

That imaginary friend has been replaced by real ones

Who rip your heart out and step on it

Now look how lucky you are

Your parents no longer know everything

Your home sometimes feels much more like prison

You can't recall how lucky you are

You'll scream out to God for some vestige of hope

Something to cling to like a life raft

Anything to remind you how lucky you are

My dear little girl, soak it in

The glasses, sweatpants, and awkward hair

Oh, how lucky you are

Your confidence, your obnoxious ways

You're so naive, so content to be yourself

You have no idea how lucky you are

Soak it in, sweet little girl

Soon, you'll be crying in your bed

Writing poems about the time when you didn't realize

How lucky you were

Resolved.

New Year's Resolutions:

• Read my Bible. Every day.
• Write to all my campers.
• Be healthier.

Doable?