Peach Crisp

Month: June 2017

Peach Crisp

Peach Crisp

There’s nothing that says summer like peaches. My roommate from college had a peach tree in her yard in Big Spring. The tiny tree branches hung to the ground, heavy with gorgeous, juicy peaches. I helped harvest them one Memorial Day weekend years ago, and her aunt turned them into a luscious peach cobbler. This weekend my Belgian friend hosted a BBQ – and asked everyone to bring something. With the sun shining, temperatures warm, and promises of spending an afternoon outside just chilling and grilling, I knew a peach. . . something would be the only thing that would

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Baker’s Rack

Baker’s Rack

You find out you’re moving to Europe – the dreams of touring famous museums, sipping wine along canals, stepping through streets lined by ancient architecture or (insert postcard perfect dream here) – are quickly pushed aside (at least after a few days of the approval) and the front-runner of your mind becomes. . . the mountain of administrational tasks before you. FBI background checks, medical exams, reissued birth certificates (as if anything had changed since the original documents were issued?) – I could go on, but I won’t in order to prevent an anxiety attack, except to say that the

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Jalapeno Ranch Dip

Jalapeno Ranch Dip

Shannon is an old friend from college who’s lived in the U.K. for what seems like forever. She visits Texas often and last summer I hosted her and a two of our close college girlfriends for dinner. After popping champagne to celebrate the momentous occasion of the four of us actually being in the same country at the same time, the conversation turned to her ‘must dos’ in Texas. “Oh, I have to go to Chuy’s,” she exclaimed. I cocked my head. “Really? Chuy’s is your Tex-Mex of choice? I’m more of a fan of Pappasito’s, Mi Cocina, or rather

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Homemade Tortillas

Homemade Tortillas

“Oh my, these tortillas are fantastic – man, I miss good, flour tortillas so much!” and I gobble another one. One of Nikki’s cousins eyes me suspiciously. He’s 13 and in that curious and not-too-cool-to-talk-to-adults-phase. “Why don’t you just go to your local grocery store and buy them?” he asks, in between mouthfuls of his own. “Jacob, I live in Belgium, not San Antonio. You can’t get homemade tortillas in Belgium, okay?” I explain. He blinks, then frowns. “Yeah, I guess not. That sucks,” he deadpans. “Yeah, it really does,” I tell him.    I decided then and there that

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The Full Story

The Full Story

Southern Belle: Derived from the French word for ‘beautiful’ a woman characterized by her love of Southern hospitality, cultivation of beauty, and charm. Years ago, I found myself hosting the monthly book club in my home in the Netherlands. An array of homemade appetizers and desserts decorated my kitchen counters. Glittering tea light candles illuminated bouquets of fresh tulips on my wooden dining tables. TSF Jazz station out of Paris articulated the background music. Slices of fruit bobbed in a glass container filled with sparkling punch. Stemmed glasses accessorized by wine charms waited to be filled. My guests – from

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Expats Again

Expats Again

“So. . . what do you think? Do you think I should apply?” My husband, V and I are sitting in our air-conditioned living room in Plano, Texas. It’s been hot. It’s October 2015. But of course it’s hot. It’s Texas. All three kids are asleep, for now. It’s only a matter of hours (or minutes) until Baby B awakes, wanting a bottle.  Our four-year-old, Holden, has been put back to bed for the seventeenth time. Cosette, our five-year-old is like a princess in peaceful slumber.  V has his computer open on his lap. A job opportunity with his company

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