Standing on my tiptoes, right foot slightly higher than the other and not because I have weird legs but because we had a weird kitchen. The floor wasn't level, and the linoleum was lumpy. I can't quite see into the cupboard, but my fingers are doing the seeing for me as I reach into the back, feeling around. Feeling dust, a tea bag, a sack of flour. My right hand wraps around a cool glass jar. That's what I was looking for. I relax my calves and stand as flatly as I could on my two feet, and place the jar of almond butter on the kitchen counter. I loved this lumpy kitchen, because it was the first one I was experiencing as being mine. Well, It's also Hannah, Kate, Jin, Seema, and Phil's. But, It wasn't my parent's kitchen. It wasn't a cafeteria, or a restaurant. It was whatever I wanted, I could make whatever I wanted; whenever I wanted and however I wanted. In that moment, I hadn't met Hannah, Kate, Jin, Seema, or Phil and the rest of the house was empty aside from what groceries I had picked out myself and put into this kitchen. 

I looked at the jar of almond butter on the counter, and the empty dining room behind it and my chest swelled up with a sort of anticipation of newness; or maybe I was hungry. Maybe it wasn't my chest swelling up, but rather my stomach growling. I opened the refrigerator, and slowly realized how nutritionally impractical my recent grocery shopping trip had been. I had a bag of organic asparagus, a carton of cage-free eggs, box of almond milk, bacon, and some steak defrosting amongst other seemingly random food items. None of which were particularly complimentary of almond butter. Although, people eat celery with peanut butter all the time.

Thus was born the first ever meal I made on my own in college:

2 tbs almond butter

6 "stalks" of asparagus

Hold stalk of asparagus between index finger and thumb, dip into almond butter jar.

That was how I met Kate. She stumbled in through the front door, wispy blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears. A large bag at her hip, backpack, and various other "I'm moving in here" items surrounding her narrow frame. Kate smiled at me, and squeezed her oversized bags and body through the short narrow hall and into the kitchen. 

"Hi! You must be Olivia –" and she looked down at my piece of asparagus with almond butter smeared on it, and a flicker of judgement passed across her face. I think, in that moment I deserved it.

"–what are you…eating?" a somewhat mocking smile spread across her face as she carefully put down all of her things. 

"I didn't have anything to eat with the almond butter…it's not that bad…"

"No, Olivia. I have banana bread in the car. You can have some." Without hesitation she sprinted out of the already open kitchen door as I toyed with how exactly to politely reject her kind offering. The idea of a banana-gluten-loaf was much less appealing than the piece of asparagus dripping with almond butter in my hand. 

I quickly turned decided I wasn't hungry anymore, and twisted the lid of the jar; shoved the asparagus back into the fridge to turn around just in time to see Kate looking at me curiously as she approached me for a second time.

"I'm really not hungry, thank you though!" I said as genuinely as I could.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kate begins sawing a slice of banana bread for me personally, she places it on a paper towel and pushes it towards me; and then a second one for herself.

"This is my mom's special recipe, it's amazing." She emphasized the amazing. I hate this part, because it's rather embarrassing having to discuss how my body negatively reacts to the kind of food nearly everyone eats on a daily basis. 

8 T unsalted butter, room temp
3/4 c granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 c unbleached all-purpose flour
1 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 c whole wheat flour
3 large ripe bananas, mashed (1 1/4 cups - 1 1/2 cups)
1 t vanilla extract
1/2 c walnuts, coarsely chopped 

This recipe was adapted from the Silver Palate Cookbook.

I stand facing the stove top, stirring a small pot filled with a steaming red mixture. I pour some dried cranberries into it, MIKA'S "POPULAR" can be heard streaming from my iPhone, with an occasional interruption indicating I've received a text message. Stella, a small black and white pit bull, sniffs around at my feet. The countertop behind me is covered with spices, measuring spoons,  various jars, and a tall glass bottle that reads, "Creme De Cassis". In between stirrings, I take modest shots of the liqueur. 

"Don't tell Grandma, but I spiked the cranberry sauce."

Let's get real for a second here, cranberry sauce is awesome. It's...sauceome, sawesome. Itsawesome. But! Why is everything else virtually made from scratch (at least that's how it is at my Thanksgiving) and the cranberry sauce remains abandoned? Can shaped and plated. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's delicious. But, why is it so neglected?

I made this last week at my apartment for a "Fakesgiving" Dinner we had, but that recipe required a lot of sugar and it hurt my stomach so I'm splicing and dicing that recipe with some alternatives, and orange zest. Whatever.

Cranberry Sauce:

12 oz cranberries

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/4 cup Orange Juice

1/4 cup Creme De Cassis, a black currant liqueur (or try Kirschwasser Cherry Liqueur, both gluten-free!)

1/4 cup raw Honey

1/4 cup Agave Nectar

1 tsp Ginger

1 tsp Orange Zest

1/2 tsp Cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground Cloves

Bring the 1/4 cup of OJ, 1/4 cup of liqueur, orange zest, and ginger to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer, add the fresh cranberries, cover. Occasionally stir, for about 7-10 minutes. The cranberries will burst! Once they've burst, add the 1/2 cup of dried cranberries, cinnamon, and ground cloves. Stir for about 3-5 minutes, then stir in Agave, and honey. They should melt. 

Remove pot from heat, add two more tablespoons of Creme De Cassis. Refrigerate! It's best made 2-3 days ahead of time to let all of the flavors soak in. Although, I've made it less than 24 hours ahead of time and it was still great.

The recipes I spliced were Bon Appétite's Cassis-Spiked Cranberry Sauce and Paleo Effect's Paleo Cranberry Sauce.