Life Love Hope
A festive vibe energizes the city. I’m on the number four headed towards the Nationale Bank stop. The passengers are filled with excitement despite the drizzle accumulating on the ancient tram windows. Darkness fell hours ago. I check my phone. 6:07 p.m. This is winter in Antwerp, days before Christmas. The tram eases to the stop. I descend the steps and walk on the glistening cobbles. The darts of moisture are in that in-between-stage, as any seasoned expat knows – it would be self-indulgent/wimpy to open an umbrella, but I left my hat at home. I glare at the rain
Crawfish Dip
“Geaux Tigers!” our three children shout from the living room. Our family has lived in Europe for over six years, but I still love meshing American traditions with Belgian culture. After a busy day of grocery shopping in the Netherlands, errand-running in Belgium, and art and gym lessons, my husband connects his computer to the television. By some magic (his information systems degree comes in handy in professional and personal realm) the TV roars into action at 4:00 p.m. We have successfully made the kids fans of College Gameday and Lee Corso’s revealing of his favorite team by putting on
Connecting
The American Women’s Club of Antwerp celebrated its 90th anniversary in 2019. The event was a festive affair held at one of my most favorite places in Antwerp, the Antwerp Zoo. We gathered in May, the break from the cold, long winter had lifted for our celebration. We dined on duck, toasted with champagne, and danced late into the evening. But before the party began, I delivered a welcome message. I was the incoming President of the American Women’s Club, and I knew I was stepping into a role of historical significance. Of responsibility. Of honor. I had not been
Red Velvet Cupcakes
Last February, the American Women’s Club of Antwerp celebrated its 89th anniversary at our annual Founder’s Day luncheon. An elegant affair, as always, we traveled through the decades celebrating fashion and the history of the club. We were invited to dress in the decade of our choice, applauded the women of the club who were celebrating significant anniversaries, and concluded the already-sophisticated meal with a luscious slice of red velvet cake. The cake was homemade by our Activities Director, Ariadna and I messaged her afterwards for the recipe. Months later, my son turned 7 and he requested red velvet cupcakes
Cranberry Salsa
It’s that time of year again. When my local SPAR grocery store stocks Ocean Spray cranberries in that familiar packaging, making my heart flutter. I’m not sure what the Belgians do with the cranberries, but this Texan knows quite a few ways to prepare them. (Jeweled Cranberry Bread, anyone?) I buy a bag every time I go to the store and put the ones I don’t use immediately in my freezer. I started experimenting with cranberry salsas in October. I took a batch to my writing group in the Netherlands and while the guys in the group gobbled it up,
Yummiest Yams Ever
I first ran across this recipe years ago when I was prepping for Thanksgiving dinner in my home in Texas. I’m pretty sure I was pregnant with my first child and hosting my parents, my husband’s dad, sister, and a few rowdy nephews in the mix. It’s so sweet and fabulous we had dessert leftovers before we had leftovers of this. It’s become a Thanksgiving staple ever since. My printed sheet has gone across the ocean three times, is all stained with water droplets, and now graffitied with metric measurements. So. You know. This one’s a keeper. Preppin’ 3-4 large
Pecan Pie Cookies
One of my best friends from Texas sent me a Southern Baking magazine this year for Valentine’s Day. I’ve worked my way through lemon pound cakes in the spring and blackberry cobblers in the summer, but I’ve been keeping my eye on the pecan pie cookie recipe for the past few months. Waiting. Anticipating. For the day when it would be perfect. I whipped these little jewels up on Thanksgiving Eve and I’m pleased to say, they were the perfect addition to a simple, but sufficient Thanksgiving. I halved the recipe because 60 seemed too exuberant a number (and 4
Baby Blues Traveler
I walk to my friend’s house with a pot of bright pink flowers in my hands. I press the doorbell. Her shadow steps over a baby on the floor, points to her daughter on the couch, and approaches the door. She smiles. But not really. I give her a fierce hug and hold the flowers out to her. “I thought you could use these,” and tears brim in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?” she asks. “Um, yeah,” and my eyes water – her weepiness is contagious. She’s the second friend I’ve talked to in a week that just returned
Taste of Freedom
“I can’t even imagine. . .” my friend says to me as we weave our six children across the road – dodging bikes, buses, and cars. The De Valk windmill – the symbol of Leiden – towers above our chaos with indifference. My friend has just returned to the Netherlands after a five year stay in America. We met years ago when we both lived in the Netherlands and had only four kids between us. When she messaged me a few months ago announcing her family’s plans to return I did a little happy dance. I’ve found that American Moms
Getting “Fat”
“Have you heard of the Two Fat Expats podcast?” my Australian mom-friend asked me as she sips a cup of coffee. She has a baby on her hip while our other four children are running around my kitchen. “Go outside, guys! Outta the kitchen, this is mama-talking time,” and my three children lead her little girl out into our garden. I flip homemade tortillas and scramble eggs. “No, I haven’t. Fat Expats?” and I laugh. “Yeah, yeah – they’re brilliant,” and I make a mental note. Two Fat Expats. That will be easy to remember. The next week I’m ironing.
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