tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90959570394398197952024-02-19T09:58:07.742-05:00Eat, Run, ReadI love many things, three of which are Running, Reading, and Eating! I post every weekday on one of these topics - so add me to your RSS, tell all your friends, and check back as often as possible!Molliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12921156806580871535noreply@blogger.comBlogger995125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-2047696515059855172016-09-21T13:11:00.000-04:002016-09-21T13:19:11.530-04:00Peru: The Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The much-anticipated <b>Great
Peruvian Adventure</b>, starting with the Salkantay Trek, got off to a rocky start.
Chris and I intended to fly out Friday afternoon, arrive in Cuzco early
Saturday morning, and then spend our first day in the city acclimatizing and resting
up before trekking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFDWWQju-kBhyRnJBIUg8UmCPDQtYPZ_y1g8p34C91fuMWfQXG5Y9IVW-LDYUsXwvjWZO1yiCvjWxWSqiLA7JsgX15Q8Ne7loySip08vHOEyoXBWsAfOqB_KVNQ7Yu3q8zbbGEQ2We7mK/s1600/IMG_6945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFDWWQju-kBhyRnJBIUg8UmCPDQtYPZ_y1g8p34C91fuMWfQXG5Y9IVW-LDYUsXwvjWZO1yiCvjWxWSqiLA7JsgX15Q8Ne7loySip08vHOEyoXBWsAfOqB_KVNQ7Yu3q8zbbGEQ2We7mK/s640/IMG_6945.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Campsite at Suyroquocha</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">However, an egregious
airport error meant we missed our Friday flight, so we didn’t arrive in Cuzco
until Sunday morning. Instead of resting up for a day, we quick-quick dropped
off some things at our hostel, stopped by a grocery store to buy trekking
food—bread, salami, cheese, granola, trail mix, cookies, peanut butter—and
found the collectivo (shared van) stop for Mollepata. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Salkantay Trek starts at
Mollepata and ends at Machu Picchu, and is considered by National Geographic to
be one of the top 25 treks in the world. It’s a solid alternative to the Inca
Trail and (to our advantage) requires no permits or advance planning. You can do
this trek with a guided group (most people do) and they will carry all your things
and cook your food and you will have a lovely time I’m sure. However, the route
is super simple, so if you’re cool with carrying your own stuff true
backpacking style then I vote just do that. Obviously we did the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBKm2n9oBG3vlPYgUGfWrMwa2NetUk_E_yV7JZCdyBi3Jk7jMhRIL_XUSo_bz7DCojcwJNpFJac_qoDEC4v3IIwPxM1aL_M2K9PzmeCwB1peE6bgW80jO_T-8fyKBvb8xe8O-GVUU4X0U/s1600/IMG_6971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBKm2n9oBG3vlPYgUGfWrMwa2NetUk_E_yV7JZCdyBi3Jk7jMhRIL_XUSo_bz7DCojcwJNpFJac_qoDEC4v3IIwPxM1aL_M2K9PzmeCwB1peE6bgW80jO_T-8fyKBvb8xe8O-GVUU4X0U/s400/IMG_6971.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">From Mollepata (sidenote: a
town made for me?!) we caught a ride to Soraypampa (10 soles per person),
effectively skipping the first (boring) day of trekking up a dirt road. As our
car wound up into the mountains, our driver peeling giant tangerines as he
went, we caught our first glimpse of MOUNTAINS—the huge Apu Humantay right in
front of us. He dropped us off at the edge of a village and we strapped on our
packs to start day 1 around 2pm, after almost 24 hours of transit and very
little sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLHJcEYA-9R-vjDN6hWeIePdGAuC9wViX6tD-5-hPNYTBvDBzmwSIhBEbsQ0yoTwODl8obQS_CYtlD8xT69PV03f3buYYbv3V4MxvBkqXdqav_gmVacn4uiJcyW7fUeaStSK-vshbpjw6/s1600/IMG_6956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLHJcEYA-9R-vjDN6hWeIePdGAuC9wViX6tD-5-hPNYTBvDBzmwSIhBEbsQ0yoTwODl8obQS_CYtlD8xT69PV03f3buYYbv3V4MxvBkqXdqav_gmVacn4uiJcyW7fUeaStSK-vshbpjw6/s400/IMG_6956.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Back side of Humantay as seen from Salkantay Pass</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There were other groups
hiking up the valley, so we hiked along with them, trekking through llama
herds, along a creek, and then up up up towards Salkantay, a Proper Pointy Peak
if I’ve ever seen one (though only the 12<sup>th</sup> highest in Peru, it’s
the it is the second most topographically prominent, meaning high
compared to the other things around it).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4N4sA-EQt6dxJDU4QknD2ShK56yARa9CrVfCPTaAHnw-8kRW3DJoBAyPHUJYZ8FkL5jUHwaQOqyPwa5CC4zsXk90FXgFJFzgyEYCJrnXyPJJHGO6nL7fHpilE-49LhED8DhtxQm4HBFO/s1600/IMG_6936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4N4sA-EQt6dxJDU4QknD2ShK56yARa9CrVfCPTaAHnw-8kRW3DJoBAyPHUJYZ8FkL5jUHwaQOqyPwa5CC4zsXk90FXgFJFzgyEYCJrnXyPJJHGO6nL7fHpilE-49LhED8DhtxQm4HBFO/s400/IMG_6936.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Apu Salkantay</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a large group of encouraging and enthusiastic Irish
trekkers starting around the same time we did, so w followed them for
significantly longer then expected (but if they can do it so can we!?) arriving
at Suyroquocha (4480m/14,694ft), the campsite just below the pass, around 5:30 pm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We crawled into our tent, slowly consumed sandwiches between
trembling fingers, and burrowed into our sleeping bags. We were slightly
suffering some negative elevation effects due to our rapid ascent from
effectively zero to almost 15,000 feet in just 24 hours (plus the Irish
trekkers informed us that it got down to negative 9 that night, which in ‘Murican
is 17 degrees!!!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We awoke early for the final assault on the mountain (why is it
always called an “assault”? So violent!), fueled by a breakfast of cookies and
peanut butter (we didn’t bring a stove since you can’t fly with fuel, and for
only a couple days camping it didn’t seem worth the effort). From our campsite
to the pass was a short hike very steep up and then THIS. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgplYOs4KanQorG9SZg2b83xlF8Ds7a2LMlI8PUlbH_Vml2G90D7GqDn8XbuQv-ujNh7xFnnQ6iCu9r4_FY6rdYRHjMC-DJBwGT3wCZhr9OlYvcKR68atj7wCxGso4Xi6SCqxYaIk2kGf/s1600/IMG_6953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgplYOs4KanQorG9SZg2b83xlF8Ds7a2LMlI8PUlbH_Vml2G90D7GqDn8XbuQv-ujNh7xFnnQ6iCu9r4_FY6rdYRHjMC-DJBwGT3wCZhr9OlYvcKR68atj7wCxGso4Xi6SCqxYaIk2kGf/s400/IMG_6953.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Salkantay Pass</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We spent a while on the pass (4600m/15,090ft),
feeling on top of the world (or at least in close proximity to the mountains
that seemed like the top of the world). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Salkantay Pass</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">About ten minutes into the descending hike we saw a couple and
their guide coming across the rocks on what was barely a trail. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Is it worth it?</i> We asked. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes definitely!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They said. So we did our own brief off-roading
excursion and LOOK WHAT WE FOUND. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAh3dGOIr14ta8qzmmZEs37lzQ06_sUEfcDqV3uLwV-TfLcojFhd6vL6uFUbiLYuW0a3rImOO8gakMua1Jb1XEPZOsUQmL98oU4bhQ1iFPHqbhBhj5-VY36u7Dhc9j4Iw1osTTW2WpQvm/s1600/IMG_6972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAh3dGOIr14ta8qzmmZEs37lzQ06_sUEfcDqV3uLwV-TfLcojFhd6vL6uFUbiLYuW0a3rImOO8gakMua1Jb1XEPZOsUQmL98oU4bhQ1iFPHqbhBhj5-VY36u7Dhc9j4Iw1osTTW2WpQvm/s400/IMG_6972.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Lake at Salkantay Pass</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">A million pictures later we
began our descent in earnest. At the base of the mountain we arrived at Huayramchay—which
is not quite a village but has a few structures catering to trekkers—very tired
and pretty dehydrated. I spent a steep but 100% worth it 10 soles on a
Gatorade, followed by 10 soles each on an incredibly satisfying lunch of soup
and bread and pasta and pollo saltado (us gesturing and looking hopeful: </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Comida? Dinero? Quantos por favor?)</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The rest of the day was
spend going down down down, the trek descending from high mountain moonscape to
semi-tropical studded with flowers and vines and green. [Pro tip: wear pants or
bug spray, the area is rife with sand flies that leave some of the worst
welt-like bites I’ve ever experienced.] We finished in the town of Colpapampa,
where we set up our tent on someone’s lawn for the cost of 3 soles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next day was an
up-and-down walk along a river, giving our very sore calfs and quads a
semi-break, until La Playa. People do trek all the way from La Playa to Machu
Picchu (via Llactapata), but we had neither the days nor the interest
(apparently it’s not a particularly beautiful walk), so we hailed a ride to
Hydroelectrica, and from there hopped on the train to Aguas Calientes, the town
at the base of Machu Picchu. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4fqaa_VP7HRn4Im3VSfeV3ZzBM4fr17c4IXfYPfGK-JQOm6qw4PEVD28thAi0okqgxhSbvdJjXeSBxYC5sBsAlRjpaaxRjx6UzvA_f30oUSjSZH1G9VaB11PuTPKLPNcTbt8FxJetdGP/s1600/IMG_6976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4fqaa_VP7HRn4Im3VSfeV3ZzBM4fr17c4IXfYPfGK-JQOm6qw4PEVD28thAi0okqgxhSbvdJjXeSBxYC5sBsAlRjpaaxRjx6UzvA_f30oUSjSZH1G9VaB11PuTPKLPNcTbt8FxJetdGP/s640/IMG_6976.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Bus ride up to Machu Picchu</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Aguas Calientes is a quirky
and picturesque little tourist-trap of a place, reminiscent to downtown Siem
Reap (next to Angkor Wat). The food is pretty good though and the pisco sours
are delish (everywhere is “happy hour” all the time), so it’s worth staying there
for a night pre-Machu Picchu. From Aguas you can either hike or take a bus up
to the Machu Picchu entrance for $24 USD (everything about the Machu Picchu
experience is absurdly expensive so you just have to keep reminding yourself, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Seven Wonders of the World, Seven Wonders of
the World</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">).</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjNBa0OJYgkLiGq8JRDe5C31fxYgSurgQzBHg9PCxEoVCNX-7seF5oz0LfFdY7xtsyQu0pjRuOmFTOZcaKgbwUIrSnRO6WKLG5nf_7KbmY_womf9j3-5trKyywqYPw-JVvZ35jBhNM-Bo/s1600/IMG_6984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjNBa0OJYgkLiGq8JRDe5C31fxYgSurgQzBHg9PCxEoVCNX-7seF5oz0LfFdY7xtsyQu0pjRuOmFTOZcaKgbwUIrSnRO6WKLG5nf_7KbmY_womf9j3-5trKyywqYPw-JVvZ35jBhNM-Bo/s400/IMG_6984.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Machu Picchu from the Montana</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And Machu Picchu itself is
pretty cool. We had tickets to hike up the </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">montana</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">
(of course), which is about 2 hours up stairs on stairs on stairs to see Machu
Picchu from high above. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyZPK7hfHKNj7oDifQKgRmjt564IXL0vCLqqNFM9XDREmJSncfDUNotZxZhBpKfvMz-OAkw43-10opKwNDAfuA2txbq1RNVoarJu_V00vifv0QCXgMrB3-NadE9h4zDCOaX6Eu_nLt6Md/s1600/IMG_7006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyZPK7hfHKNj7oDifQKgRmjt564IXL0vCLqqNFM9XDREmJSncfDUNotZxZhBpKfvMz-OAkw43-10opKwNDAfuA2txbq1RNVoarJu_V00vifv0QCXgMrB3-NadE9h4zDCOaX6Eu_nLt6Md/s400/IMG_7006.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Always stairs</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was 5 million degrees out (or maybe high 70s, but
goshdarnit I was wearing pants as bug protection), but we spent significant
time (with significant crowds) wandering the ruins, petting baby llamas, and
imagining life as ancient Incans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Afterwards we enjoyed one
last lunch in Aguas Calientes before taking the very fancy train back to Cuzco. The train, though luxurious, was loooong and I felt sorry for the very clean, very not smelly, older couple across from us...thus are the side effects of walking (for days) to get to somewhere...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last view of Machu Picchu</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-18053869670390552742016-09-16T11:46:00.000-04:002016-09-16T12:16:22.477-04:00Peru: Rainbow Mountain & Trekking the Ausangate Circuit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Ausangate Circuit has to be one of the most insanely spectacular least-known treks in the world. It's one of the highest in Peru -- never dropping below 14,000 feet -- including 4 mountain passes, continuous glacial views, multiple high-altitude lakes, and thousands of alpacas. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbF2gIkGESa0PmRjQICROPcq0GGj-O_7Gg96S3XeDzYZ1dPF-Qkb8lQN5_rwkETo8iewe1_AkfCAqRsY88fmT2z-6yhMjy0MEHcjilk47QF2a6hmpxPYNOODDdG6vt7fTRCIIaPxi4l7iG/s1600/IMG_7143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbF2gIkGESa0PmRjQICROPcq0GGj-O_7Gg96S3XeDzYZ1dPF-Qkb8lQN5_rwkETo8iewe1_AkfCAqRsY88fmT2z-6yhMjy0MEHcjilk47QF2a6hmpxPYNOODDdG6vt7fTRCIIaPxi4l7iG/s640/IMG_7143.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ausangate from the way up to Arapa Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chris and I had been referring to Salkantay, the first trek of our 12-day Peru trip, as our warm-up trek, but Ausangate was the main event and primary motivation for going to Central Peru.</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Though rarely featured on top-whatever listicles, </span></span></span><a href="https://besthike.com/2013/04/30/top-10/" target="_blank">Besthike</a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> (a rather insider source) ranks it as the fourth best in </span><span style="color: #222222;">the</span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> world. Let me tell you guys, I think that might be right. There wasn't a moment that wasn't spectacular, and I don't use that word lightly. The trek traverses <span style="font-family: inherit;">the </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cordillera Vilcanota, </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">circumnavigating Apu Ausangate, the fourth highest mountain in Peru at 20,945 feet, and offers insane views all the way.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKzQD04rxgdPjhSiw73Q6xsivHj1gBiL_X3-gC9EDh7iB7XL_ze73YWiLa5I_8D3WbTGrszw6IJ9IG_9YXxN-f58IF6Aeiub41bKqndS1RhSHKwfIJuUF_seztxr6QHuZburNpljrGodH/s1600/IMG_7158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKzQD04rxgdPjhSiw73Q6xsivHj1gBiL_X3-gC9EDh7iB7XL_ze73YWiLa5I_8D3WbTGrszw6IJ9IG_9YXxN-f58IF6Aeiub41bKqndS1RhSHKwfIJuUF_seztxr6QHuZburNpljrGodH/s400/IMG_7158.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laguna Uchuy Pucacocha (I think)</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Our advance planning for this trek, however, was (typically) minimal. We thought that the Rainbow Mountain (Vinecunca) was part of the Circuit, but turns out it's not! Luckily we popped into a travel company on our one day in Cuzco between treks and met the most helpful man who enabled us to do ALL THE THINGS. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris taking pictures on the way to Campo Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Just in case you want to recreate, here's the short version of our itinerary:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Day 1</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Get picked up at 3am, drive to the start of Vinecunca/Rainbow Mountain hike, hiking by 7am.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hike up to Rainbow Mountain and back [~5-6 hours]</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Drive to Lower Upis and meet up with horseman [~3 hours]</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hike to Upper Upis [~2 hours]</span></li>
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Day 2</div>
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<li>Hike starting at Upper Upis >>> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Arapa Pass (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">4757m/</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">15,600ft) </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"> >>> </span>along </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Laguna Uchuy Pucacocha and Laguna Jatan Pucacocha (lakes)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"> >>> </span>Apacheta Pass (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">4850m/</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">15,908ft)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"> >>> </span>Laguna Ausangatecocha [~6-8 hours]</span></li>
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<span style="color: #222222;">Day 3</span></div>
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<li><span style="color: #222222;">Laguna Ausangatecocha >>> Palomani Pass (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">5165m/16,941ft)</span><span style="color: #222222;"> >>> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Pampacancha (village) >>> </span>Campo/Jhampa/Jampa/Q'ampa Pass (4850</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">m/15,908ft)</span><span style="color: #222222;"> >>> Jhampa Campsite [~10 hours]</span></li>
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<span style="color: #222222;">Day 4</span></div>
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<li><span style="color: #222222;">Jhampa Campsite >>> Laguna Q'omercocha (lake) >>> Pachanta (town) >>> Tinki (town) [~5 hours]</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222;">From Tinki you can take a taxi or local bus (10 soles) back to Cuzco. [~4 hours]</span></li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM422_QBvBOSolzF1aMxCho1pw-WQzkNXP3fv53_AiiEFSLyLfIWyOLUrwFy-LnLRIu0u4RFTJUfjKRdvlt6R-IvhA-avFt6LzrS425ML_c-Au9Huv1Src867S7N7qRkUQZPuXQaqJPVJL/s1600/IMG_7155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM422_QBvBOSolzF1aMxCho1pw-WQzkNXP3fv53_AiiEFSLyLfIWyOLUrwFy-LnLRIu0u4RFTJUfjKRdvlt6R-IvhA-avFt6LzrS425ML_c-Au9Huv1Src867S7N7qRkUQZPuXQaqJPVJL/s400/IMG_7155.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ausangate + alpacas</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Now for the narrative.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We started our first morning at long-before-morning o'clock (i.e. 3 am) to drive to the Rainbow Mountain (Vinecunca). This is a simple but challenging out-and-back hike (no guide necessary) that starts at</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> 4326m/14,189ft </span><span style="color: #222222;">and</span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> climbs to 5,020m/16,466ft in just 2-3 hours. But if you're feeling lazy or sick (don't be lazy or sick!) you can hire one of the many local Quechua to lead you on the back of a horse the last section up. We, of course, were on a tight time table, so we did it quick-quick, but spent a while at the top taking pictures because duh. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I was SO into this you guys. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I'd been seeing pictures of this for weeks, but in person it was just...wow. So much wow. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">It's impossible to get the full sense from pictures, but this ridge is quite high, with glaciers behind and miles upon miles of colorful red ridges contrast with clear blue sky ahead. If you look behind my head in the picture you can see (very tiny) the saddle, where there's a little rock structure at the immediate base of the rainbow part and many people stop. But you must walk up the mountain to the opposite to get the full view. Again, wow. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow Mountain/Vinecunca</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">We learned later that t</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">he Rainbow Mountain was covered under a permanent blanket of glacial snow until a couple of years ago, so being able to see it today is a disconcerting mix of sad from a global warming perspective but amazing from a things-I-get-to-see-in-my-life perspective. Sigh. At least they're limiting where you can walk now (stay on the trail!) to try to preserve its awesomeness. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IUYUv7Jl3OHYADrjlScCpgISGXwEjtjQzFrrLKdHPuKxMnrdB3LPErrs_PH3pRsHGvRzFZEoTqWebrL0hb0bqW0Q_bl4NEEjlJA3YfT0elS-QjuylUZsegP5HxFnu2SgTygpP1nCyNEg/s1600/IMG_7140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IUYUv7Jl3OHYADrjlScCpgISGXwEjtjQzFrrLKdHPuKxMnrdB3LPErrs_PH3pRsHGvRzFZEoTqWebrL0hb0bqW0Q_bl4NEEjlJA3YfT0elS-QjuylUZsegP5HxFnu2SgTygpP1nCyNEg/s400/IMG_7140.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">A 3-hour car ride later, our true trek started in Upper Upis (aka Upis Alto) at a breathtaking (literally) 14,035 feet.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because of our Rainbow Mountain morning, </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">we didn't meet up with Pablo Santiago (our hired horseman/guide/cook) and his trusty steed (henceforth known as "Caballo") until 4:30 pm. Pablo loaded Caballo with a stove and fuel, food, and our tents, while our backs carried the rest of it all. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">We trekked for a solid two hours through alpaca farms and fields, coming closer and closer to a cloud-enshrouded mountain in the distance. That night we spent in a "home stay" -- basically someone's shed turned into a bunkhouse -- since it was super windy, completely dark, and kinda raining when we finally finished walking. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Upon arrival, o</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">ur first of many communication woes with Pablo ensued. Conclusion: he wasn't down to cook us dinner (unclear why...to our detriment we speak very little Spanish and 100% zero Quechua, the local language). So after a solid 7-hours of extremely high altitude up-and-down hiking we inhaled some bread and salami and cheese and lay down to sleep, tightly sealed into our sleeping bags against the uncomfortably large spiders that infested the house. (Ok fine fine they were totally normal-sized, but I still didn't want them snuggling with me.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>Day 2</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The next morning we awoke long before dawn cracked to the sounds of Pablo cooking. <i>Oatmeal with raisins and sugar?! </i>we thought hopefully, as we had purchased 5 days worth of delicious hiking food for the three of us and were really hoping to actually eat some of it. It was not to be. He presented us with heaping plates of a boiled rice and fried pasta mixed together, with a few tomato slices and salt on top. Weird. Unexpected. Ok.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Our first full Ausangate day (technically day 2) was quite a day. It started with the climb to Arapa Pass </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">(</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">4757m/</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">15,600ft)</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">. We acquired a joyous </span><span style="color: #222222;">perro</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> (= dog) along the way who had absolutely no problem running ahead of course. We learned later that he belonged to an alpaca herder who is friends with Pablo, but enjoys joining trekkers for long sections of their hike. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Arapa Pass was shortly followed by a gentle down then a very steep up to our first lakes of the trek. [Pro-tip: fill your water bottles where the trail crosses the stream at the mouth of the first lake, as there is literally no water for <i>hours</i> after that point. We learned this lesson the very hard and veerrryyy thirsty way.]</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arapa Pass + Perro</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first is Laguna Vinecocha, then you skirt upwards to its south side and pass by Laguna Uchuy Pucacocha and Laguna Jatan Pucacocha with rocky redish steeps to your right, views of Ausangate across the lakes to your left, and alpaca and sheep farms right in front of you. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I think Chris probably averaged one picture for every five minutes of trekking -- totally reasonable considering the prevalence of Proper Pointy Peaks (PPPs). </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">We'd seen a group of French people first thing in the morning, but other than that just one American couple the whole day. But the area certainly wasn't deserted -- local Quechua, tending their flocks (?) of alpaca, walk up and down these passes constantly, the women dressed in colorful skirts and sanq'apa (traditional hats elaborately decorated with sequins, flowers, rick-rack, and beads) and the men sporting cowboy hats on top of colorful chullo (Andean ear flap llama or alpaca wool hats).</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laguna Jatan Pucacocha + alpacas</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The next pass of the day (we were in a haze of dehydration at this point) was the Apacheta at </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">4850m/</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">15,908ft</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">. Since we were already so high at the lakes it didn't feel like much of a climb, but the subsequent steep down down down afterwards belied its pass-worthy-ness. Our day's trek concluded around 1:30 pm at Laguna Ausangatecocha where you pay 10 soles per person to a Quechua lady to camp. The lake sits in between a high glacier and an alpaca-studded valley with red and brown hills in the distance. Pretty freaking cool.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKw42qwqytfPuI6LjUbkIaIrZ2Y-rbZftZwDdAhIYcpdC4hGt3WJzooTUDIB15FF7iIqCjLAMVKfiaP4pNThGgZ1plVeHFvlzlLLo_z2ulzDbOZDGr-yyjKRBXA3j8R4_Uykwtp74r8lid/s1600/IMG_7164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKw42qwqytfPuI6LjUbkIaIrZ2Y-rbZftZwDdAhIYcpdC4hGt3WJzooTUDIB15FF7iIqCjLAMVKfiaP4pNThGgZ1plVeHFvlzlLLo_z2ulzDbOZDGr-yyjKRBXA3j8R4_Uykwtp74r8lid/s400/IMG_7164.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laguna Ausangatecocha</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Upon arrival, Pablo, realizing our super thirsty state, made us a whole pot of tea and commanded us to "augumenter" (which turns out is not a word in Spanish...what was even happening?) our cups again and again until we finished it all. We hoped for something delicious and satisfying for dinner (as apparently Pablo doesn't believe in stopping for lunch), only to be unpleasantly surprised by the exact same rice-pasta-tomato situation we'd had for breakfast. We groaned, morosely shoveled it in, laid down for a long night in the tent, comforting ourselves in the knowledge that we'd just completed an 8-hour trek in 6 and our campsite was SUPER amazing -- yet another one for the REI catalog collection.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahyphenhyphen6mtBrlKTmAkDxIHiNwJ_VeJCm6pTf3uFpYO8lu6Y2s4McRzGSZg27wJz-_uYh1OCiIF_EVStFpdYjIf8Z1aHgwhXJFVsrOMG4RGNNXHZQ549pYUF1VtprLshHyH-ofTFn8anSfGJaA/s1600/IMG_7201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahyphenhyphen6mtBrlKTmAkDxIHiNwJ_VeJCm6pTf3uFpYO8lu6Y2s4McRzGSZg27wJz-_uYh1OCiIF_EVStFpdYjIf8Z1aHgwhXJFVsrOMG4RGNNXHZQ549pYUF1VtprLshHyH-ofTFn8anSfGJaA/s400/IMG_7201.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laguna Ausangatecocha Campsite</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivT22e0hTyKbrKdDE3L7FmeHXreOz8y9E8A8yXQCMn-xIbeXgCe_uE6xTEdxmPd-sVtBoZSCjE0aDAb9_qAoA_rXNgLSpUc-YKEo_ptEAf0skCC4e_d9IkK_q6YgsLk0d8ykXB1TaBtsFT/s1600/IMG_7160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivT22e0hTyKbrKdDE3L7FmeHXreOz8y9E8A8yXQCMn-xIbeXgCe_uE6xTEdxmPd-sVtBoZSCjE0aDAb9_qAoA_rXNgLSpUc-YKEo_ptEAf0skCC4e_d9IkK_q6YgsLk0d8ykXB1TaBtsFT/s400/IMG_7160.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same campsite, different angle.</td></tr>
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<b>Day 3</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The next morning started with exceptionally early tea in our tent, followed by a confusing but thank-God-it's-not-rice/pasta/</span><wbr style="color: #222222;"></wbr><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">tomato breakfast of pasta (sigh), a whole sweet potato, and a cup of oatmeal. I will never not be confused by our food on this trek. Then off we went up the very steep trail out of the valley of our lake, alongside the glacier, and up to Palomani Pass, the highest of the circuit at </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">5165m/16,941</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> (some sites claim 17,056) feet. We were the first to get up there, which was obviously awesome.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3t5nC_VV-xFTDy6IqvCXhHt-3KPlPuPeX68bsRmZ8qnXoMR16VyRLlYA-tmjFavNbWlEiIaKImONCiUA9IPps05GZ7QsquTzl554zGC8ELLhT5D8lKoh_FJTWsY1kEvOgR_B5SrpTSWTf/s1600/IMG_7168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3t5nC_VV-xFTDy6IqvCXhHt-3KPlPuPeX68bsRmZ8qnXoMR16VyRLlYA-tmjFavNbWlEiIaKImONCiUA9IPps05GZ7QsquTzl554zGC8ELLhT5D8lKoh_FJTWsY1kEvOgR_B5SrpTSWTf/s400/IMG_7168.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way up to Palomani Pass looking back at our campsite</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBSwg9kWt_m7g0rvEONhdPZEPfAR-GI-eBsiOpPLSXD1dZ_OPouDipUqvucr2Ynm_BC3NVRZwcrQDiclbn27Xp7CUB4e7LBoE4squDhAGCDJL65CNTBhiSuF_tx_SNr9d7nwKGzEhuQgX/s1600/IMG_7173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBSwg9kWt_m7g0rvEONhdPZEPfAR-GI-eBsiOpPLSXD1dZ_OPouDipUqvucr2Ynm_BC3NVRZwcrQDiclbn27Xp7CUB4e7LBoE4squDhAGCDJL65CNTBhiSuF_tx_SNr9d7nwKGzEhuQgX/s400/IMG_7173.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Chris on top of Palomani Pass</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The trail down led along a long dusty mountainside to the valley and village of Pampacancha below, with mountain views and alpacas all the way (of course). We walked along Rio Chilcamaya past the village then skirted around some boggy flats (Pampa Jatunpata) before starting northwest up along the Rio Jampamayo. This view distracted me from my very tired feet.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30IDSz72CHgDbw_EmYQ9bKsTJ3T9eUgEQS9dl2ppoCfZd8Pw77cokgL0xMiLQZX2fJtZ8oiEwoYrv5k-lRFTEjmw3foEEJQfJSkwo8DO21EUy44lMlLbFimjkBJHvAQ1jLGgBxL2C4iLk/s1600/IMG_7186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30IDSz72CHgDbw_EmYQ9bKsTJ3T9eUgEQS9dl2ppoCfZd8Pw77cokgL0xMiLQZX2fJtZ8oiEwoYrv5k-lRFTEjmw3foEEJQfJSkwo8DO21EUy44lMlLbFimjkBJHvAQ1jLGgBxL2C4iLk/s400/IMG_7186.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pablo + Caballo</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I think this is Senal<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: left;"> Nevado Pico Tres, but I'm not 100% sure.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chris and I were under the impression that we'd be done by 1:30 (Pablo had said something around 10:30 about us finishing in 4 hours) and were looking forward to it. Going over high mountain passes is tiring work! But as we passed by the village of Jampa and continued to carry on we started to get a little bit concerned and a little bit upset. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we finally caught up to Pablo (he tended to take the horse waaaay far ahead of us and then sit on a rock chewing coca leaves until <i>hola amigos!</i> we arrived and then he was off again), we asked him how much further and he responded with a shrug, <i>tres horas mas o menos</i>. TRES HORAS?!? What. No. How. I was none too pleased about this scenario but resigned myself to plod along as long at it took. (We realized later that when we'd thought he said 4 <i>more</i> hours what he really said was we'd be finished at 4pm. <i>Very different </i>for tired trekkers.) I gave Caballo my sleeping bag to carry, because really I have nothing to prove here. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">The ensuing hike up the valley, however, was absolutely stunning as we walked directly at a range of unknown peaks (later identified as Senal Nevado Pico Tres and Nevado Puca Punta).</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3l8LMJUgot2JtgEaQJXY9tRaX1OJENp4d5zFxMOJPf5KVfRyFlUJ_kMvBgVR7S2DQSZIF99Qkq17rpSa33Qjgj7ntuu8aMSn-1K8ZiY2_IhPLbNO_mY8vts_EkayA_QWw6V_7na74OF4/s1600/IMG_7189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3l8LMJUgot2JtgEaQJXY9tRaX1OJENp4d5zFxMOJPf5KVfRyFlUJ_kMvBgVR7S2DQSZIF99Qkq17rpSa33Qjgj7ntuu8aMSn-1K8ZiY2_IhPLbNO_mY8vts_EkayA_QWw6V_7na74OF4/s400/IMG_7189.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Campo Pass.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">We were shocked and confused to go over what appeared to be a very significant but completely unrecorded pass late in the day -- beautiful and cairn-covered as it was -- and assumed it was oddly missing from our map. The sign at the top said Jampa Pass, which was not listed in our Lonely Planet </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Trekking in the Central Andes</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> (blog research recommend this book for its descriptions of the trek, even though it's been out of print since 2002).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">So what happened?? At a long airport layover on the way home, intently consulting the internet and our guidebook, we realized that Jampa is the same as Q'ampa is the same as Campa is the same as Campo pass (</span><span style="color: #222222;">which</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> was in our book). So it turns out that Pablo, our tricky tricky horseman, led us over THE TWO HIGHEST PASSES on day three. No wonder I was tired beyond tired. But also, look!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34QE5X3j-vayBPvrGBVQRhZLay6eALHavhRJayyDlNYMZQrSCrVdxqYGKx_gxE2CisTo6MxqXlpYCQs-vxyZBh5UzHNDxGQ_0NphjE3J7FBPnRVTYssxwJPTDSLM9HuMJ5KAYElTfO7Wx/s1600/IMG_7193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34QE5X3j-vayBPvrGBVQRhZLay6eALHavhRJayyDlNYMZQrSCrVdxqYGKx_gxE2CisTo6MxqXlpYCQs-vxyZBh5UzHNDxGQ_0NphjE3J7FBPnRVTYssxwJPTDSLM9HuMJ5KAYElTfO7Wx/s640/IMG_7193.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Campo/Jampa/Jhampa/Q'ampa Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Did Pablo drag us over an additional peak because he was so impressed with our fitness and had overwhelming faith in our astounding pass-hiking abilities? Or was it a more selfish motivation, knowing that the sooner we finished the sooner he could go home and pocket the extra day's pay? Or -- and after much debate we think this is the most likely answer -- our guidebook map, which we used to point out the location we wanted to camp, has the town of Jampa labeled (which is before the pass) but as of 2013 a bunch of new campsites have been built and Jampa is the name of a campsite on the <i>other</i> side of the pass. So Pablo probably did what we asked (camping at Jampa), it just wasn't what we thought we were asking for.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Conclusion: learn Quecheua. Or Spanish. Or just suck it up and keep waking and enjoy the hot soup and yet </span><span style="color: #222222;">another</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> stunning campsite at the end.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssKTH3F_kZpyxj1BtmIZPB50SyH86XAKpJKIGEvHB_kOmDEFYqXX4i7_kAWSumCF8rXVxOZKOVwwPaOKYwu5jKQypU1CMYSuNvphsGUt10Xwrsam3USC0xwxFzUiB7U1x3pxfmMYQc1Bx/s1600/IMG_7196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssKTH3F_kZpyxj1BtmIZPB50SyH86XAKpJKIGEvHB_kOmDEFYqXX4i7_kAWSumCF8rXVxOZKOVwwPaOKYwu5jKQypU1CMYSuNvphsGUt10Xwrsam3USC0xwxFzUiB7U1x3pxfmMYQc1Bx/s400/IMG_7196.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jampa Campsite, view of Apu Ausangate</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Day 4</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After one final freezing night (temperatures during the day were in the 60s and 70s, but at night dropped to the high teens), we awoke looking straight up at the pointiest view of Apu Ausangate yet. Ok ok Ausangate, you win. Though breakfast was again rice/pasta/tomato/salt...so there's that. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">[</span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Day 4 pictures to be added in the next couple days (my camera died) -- check back they're good! For now here's a picture of an alpaca.</span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;">] </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAhPby9o4r6J4jzag7HmC22d3p4V5XM8qjA5hGXQ1IoJzsjnAUOPWQ90Nf3zKysfFrl_bTWtH13cYKJFKEonVQ57Pnxgz0YSpldROy-hAHv1kelkHxEswxto2tGG4Hjzky9Pu7tAQD9AZ/s1600/IMG_7154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAhPby9o4r6J4jzag7HmC22d3p4V5XM8qjA5hGXQ1IoJzsjnAUOPWQ90Nf3zKysfFrl_bTWtH13cYKJFKEonVQ57Pnxgz0YSpldROy-hAHv1kelkHxEswxto2tGG4Hjzky9Pu7tAQD9AZ/s400/IMG_7154.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This was a downhill day, first alongside Laguna Ticllacocha (swoon) and then one of my favorite views of the trip -- wetlands looking back at the mountains bidding us </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">adios</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">. Shortly after that it was just a long dusty road down past Pachanta (a town that a lot of treks stop in) to Tinki. Then from there we sprinted to catch the 2 pm bus back to Cuzco, a shower, and a hot meal of pollo a la brassa. </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">What a trip.</span></span><br />
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-43161292695044620402016-01-30T13:30:00.000-05:002016-01-30T13:33:20.338-05:00Cake of the Week: Pink Velvet Raspberry Cheesecake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You may have heard we had a bit of a snowstorm here on the East Coast last weekend. I worked from home on Friday, fitting in a mid-day tempo run just as the first flakes began to fall. By Friday night it was a blizzard, and by Saturday morning the outside world was a blur of of whitish gray with earth, trees, houses, and cars barely differentiated from the sky. <br />
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Sunday was all clear and blindingly sun-shiny, but my usually mobile urban life was severely and snowfully restricted. There was literally no public transportation open all weekend and just walking (or more accurately, trekking/plodding/swimming through feet of heavy powder) a couple blocks constituted an epic journey.<br />
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But journey I did! After two days of barely leaving the house I needed to get outside. And like the crazy person I am, I needed to run. So I tramped to a gym, paid a drop-in fee, and found myself treadmill'ing next to SpeedyKate for <i>fourteen </i>miles .<br />
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Strategic distractions aside (X-Games viewing, episode 3 of Serial, and many many songs on Pandora's No Diggity station), spending fourteen miles on a treadmill gives one a lot of time to think. So I thought about cheesecake. And then I journeyed home and made it happen.<br />
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I have concocted <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/search/label/cheesecake" target="_blank">many a cheesecake</a> in my day, but this might be the best one yet. It is super light and creamy, much more mousse-like than the New York style heavy cheesy cheesecake. The buttermilk, vinegar, and hint of raspberries makes it delightfully tangy but the Oreo crust is there to remind you that this is definitely a decadent dessert.<br />
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To be honest, the whole raspberry part wasn't planned, but rather a reaction to the fact that I never have red food coloring. And I'm so glad that was the case! There is still some food coloring in this cake (I mixed some pink and magenta and yellow and brown like the mad scientist/artist that I am), but the raspberries add such a nice hint of flavor! And the cake really is beautiful, no?<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Pink Velvet Raspberry Cheesecake</h3>
<i>Ingredients</i>:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Crust </b></li>
<ul>
<li>2 cups Oreo crumbs (about 20 normal Oreos)</li>
<li>4 tbsp butter, melted</li>
</ul>
<li><b>Cheesecake filling</b></li>
<ul>
<li>24 oz cream cheese, room temperature (three 8 oz packages)</li>
<li>1 cup sugar</li>
<li>3 tablespoons cocoa</li>
<li>4 eggs, room temperature</li>
<li>1 cup sour cream</li>
<li>1/4 cup buttermilk</li>
<li>2 tsp vinegar</li>
<li>1 tsp vanilla extract</li>
<li>1/3 cup raspberries (either fresh or frozen and thawed), blended in a food processor to smooth out the seeds</li>
<li>Pink or red food coloring (optional)</li>
</ul>
<li><b>Whipped Cream</b></li>
<ul>
<li>1 cup heavy whipping cream</li>
<li>1/4 cup powdered sugar</li>
<li>1/2 teaspoon vanilla</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<i>Directions:</i><br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Crust: </b>Preheat oven to 325 degrees.</li>
<li>In a food processor combine Oreos and butter until it looks like sand.</li>
<li>Press mixture into the bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch springform pan.</li>
<li>Bake crust for 10 minutes.</li>
<li><b>Cheesecake filling: </b>Reduce oven to 300 degrees.</li>
<li>In a large bowl, use an electric mixer to combine the cream cheese, sugar, and cocoa with an electric mixer until smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl</li>
<li>Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.</li>
<li>In a food processor or blender, puree the raspberries and buttermilk until smooth.</li>
<li>Add the sour cream, buttermilk/raspberries, vinegar, vanilla extract, and food color (if using) to the main bowl. Beat until well combined.</li>
<li>Pour the filling into the crust.</li>
<li>Fill a pan (like a 8x8 or something like that, the size doesn't really matter) with water and place it on a lower rack in the oven.</li>
<li>Put the cheesecake in the oven on a middle rack.</li>
<li>Bake for 2 hours. To see if it's done, gently shake the cake -- if the center looks liquidy then keep baking.</li>
<li>Turn off heat and leave cheesecake in oven with the door closed for 30 minutes.</li>
<li>Crack open the oven door and leave the cheesecake in there for another 20 minutes.</li>
<li>Remove the cheesecake from the oven and cool on a wire rack (in the fridge if you're in a hurry, or overnight -- cheesecake is actually best made one day in advance). The cheesecake should be completely cooled before the whipped cream part. </li>
<li><b>Whipped Cream: </b>With a mixer on high, whip the cream until soft peaks form. Mix in the powdered sugar and vanilla until it's thick, then smooth on the top of the cake. </li>
<li>To serve, run a knife under warm water before slicing.</li>
<li>YUM.</li>
</ol>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-41357771755371882092016-01-23T12:11:00.002-05:002016-01-23T12:13:29.579-05:00Candied Bacon Chocolate Chip Cookies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I can't say I'm much of a football fan (shocking I know from a girl who blogs about books and baked goods). I'm not <i>anti</i>-football, I'm just indifferent as to who throws a thing or kicks a thing or wins or loses or runs where on the field over an insanely stop-and-start 5-hour televised experience.<br />
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Football related snacks, however, are a completely different story! I will cheer for whomever's team of choice if there are ample snacks provided. And I'm happy to do some snack providing of my own.<br />
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Recently my roommates and I hosted a huge pre-football brunch. Chilaquiles, pancakes, eggs, cinnamon rolls, and bacon. So. Much. Bacon. As the crew settled into couches and chairs in a food-coma football daze, Steph and I decided that the time was finally right for a much-anticipated bacon chocolate chip cookie experience.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The bacon is candied!!!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But how much bacon is enough? How much is too much? Like the (mad) scientist we are, we decided to conduct some A-B testing.<br />
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The base recipe is compliments of Steph's recipe box (have I mentioned that I now live with another avid baker!?). We made half the recipe as "Medium Bacon" cookies -- meaning that they included ample candied bacon. The other half -- "Very Bacon" -- we took things to a whole other level and used bacon grease instead of butter (I KNOW), in addition to the candied bacon pieces.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIwWxTRAG8hpQlcZx_IUmRfK6LZLfCCBzQY-5Q52m13Sg6JMDQPMvgXV3tqUs_7p20ZQ-O88zekB5W4nO_uHUEVp7UPPyVGfsXzy62sVkcT99g4RrOCoqdAi6EL-0XYEYDbwSHHG6gL_A/s1600/IMG_5994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIwWxTRAG8hpQlcZx_IUmRfK6LZLfCCBzQY-5Q52m13Sg6JMDQPMvgXV3tqUs_7p20ZQ-O88zekB5W4nO_uHUEVp7UPPyVGfsXzy62sVkcT99g4RrOCoqdAi6EL-0XYEYDbwSHHG6gL_A/s400/IMG_5994.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We thought there would be a clear winner, but results were shockingly mixed! "They're chewy and crispy at the same time!" shouted one friend. "So much bacon," sighed another. "Just so much bacon."<br />
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I preferred the Very Bacon version, while there were others who preferred the Medium Bacon. We concluded that if you're going to eat multiple cookies at once then the Medium Bacon were the better choice, while the Very Bacon were more intense and thus more of a one-off eating experience.<br />
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I'll leave the recipe choice up to you. Either way, these are an excellent contribution to any party, football or otherwise.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Candied Bacon Chocolate Chip Cookies</h3>
<i>Ingredients:</i><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>1 package (12 oz) bacon</li>
<li>1/4 cup maple syrup</li>
<li>1/4 cup brown sugar</li>
<li>1 2/3 cups whole or rolled oats (not quick-cooking)</li>
<li>1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour</li>
<li>1 teaspoon baking soda</li>
<li>3/4 teaspoon baking powder</li>
<li>2 cups (1 bag) chocolate chips</li>
<li>3/4 cup butter (OR 3/4 cup solid cooled bacon grease -- note that we had bacon grease reserved from our morning bacon experience)</li>
<li>3/4 cup sugar</li>
<li>3/4 cup brown sugar</li>
<li>1 egg</li>
<li>2 teaspoons vanilla</li>
</ul>
<div>
<i>Directions:</i></div>
<div>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>To candy the bacon: Lay bacon strips on a baking sheet with raised edges (so the grease doesn't ruin the inside of your oven). Mix maple syrup and brown sugar and brush over bacon. Bake at 350 degrees until crispy (20-ish minutes). Once bacon is cooled, use your hands to break them into little pieces. </li>
<li>To powder the oats: Pulse the oats in a blender until coarsely ground.</li>
<li>To make the cookies: Mix sugars and butter (or bacon grease). </li>
<li>Mix in egg and vanilla.</li>
<li>Mix in dry ingredients (dough will be very crumbly, you may need to use your hands).</li>
<li>Mix in bacon pieces and chocolate chips. </li>
<li>Using your hands, form dough into 2-tablespoon sized balls and place on a baking sheet.</li>
<li>Bake at 375 degrees for 8-10 minutes. </li>
<li>Cool and enjoy!</li>
</ol>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-45229942734964999902016-01-01T14:40:00.000-05:002016-01-02T12:41:13.256-05:00Homemade Marshmallows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Making marshmallows is like making magic. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Watch the silky soft semi-translucent peaks of egg whites transform into thick and shiny white swirls of marshmallow before your eyes. C</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">reate a substantial and yet pillowy light something, then slowly but surely watch it dissolves into nothing when plopped into a mug of hot chocolate. Sounds like </span><span style="color: #222222;">sorcery</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> or legerdemain, but really it's simple science and love. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When most people think about marshmallows, they think toasted s'mores around a campfire, they think a handful of those mini dry things in their hot chocolate, they think Lucky Charms cereal or Easter Peeps or some other kid's candy. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">And don't me wrong, those are all great things. But what if we thought about marshmallows as something a little more sophisticated? A homemade confection, coming in limitless flavors, to be eaten alone as a bonbon or luxuriously melting into a mug of hot chocolate or coffee. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">A gift for friends, a treat worth bringing to a party. That is the kind of marshmallow I'm talking about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The mass-produced kind are fine, but homemade marshmallows will change your life. Or, your marshmallow life at least. They're so fun to make, require minimal ingredients, and once you start making your own you'll never go back. Here's a basic vanilla recipe. You can also experiment with different extracts for different flavors -- imagine a peppermint marshmallow in your hot chocolate! An almond marshmallow covered in coconut flakes! This really is the perfect winter treat. </span><br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Vanilla Marshmallows</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ingredients:</span><br />
<ul>
<li>2 envelopes powdered gelatin </li>
<li>1/2 cup + 1/3 cup cold water</li>
<li>1 cup sugar</li>
<li>1/3 cup light corn syrup</li>
<li>4 large egg whites, at room temperature</li>
<li>pinch of salt</li>
<li>2 teaspoons vanilla extract</li>
<li>1/2 cup powdered sugar</li>
<li>1/2 cup corn starch</li>
</ul>
Directions:<br />
<ol>
<li>In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water until it's dissolved (do this before you start anything else -- it can sit for a while). </li>
<li>In a small pot over medium heat, mix the sugar and corn syrup with 1/3 cup water. Place a candy thermometer on the side of the pot. </li>
<li>In the bowl of an electric mixer (or in a large bowl with a hand-held mixer) beat egg whites until frothy, then add a pinch of salt.</li>
<li>When the syrup in the pot reaches 210ºF/99ºC, increase the speed of the mixer to high and beat the whites until stiff peaks form (see <a href="http://www.canadianliving.com/blogs/food/files/2014/04/egg-whites1.jpg" target="_blank">this image</a> if you're not sure what that means).</li>
<li>When the syrup reaches 245ºF/118ºC remove the pot from the stove and slowly pour the hot syrup into the whites while the mixer is running on high (if you're using a hand mixer you'll probably need a trusty assistant to hold the mixer while you pour).</li>
<li>Scrape the gelatin/water, which should be pretty solid, into the pot that you used for the syrup (no need to wash it hooray!). Warm it until it melts to liquid. </li>
<li>Pour the liquified gelatin slowly into the whites as the mixer is running (again, you may need a trusty assistant). Add the vanilla extract and continue to whip for at least 5 minutes, until the outside of the bowl feels completely cool when you touch it. </li>
<li>Mix powdered sugar and corn starch in a small bowl. Use a sifter to thoroughly and completely dust a 9x13 pan with the mixture (you don't want any of the pan showing, or else the marshmallows will stick). You should use about 2/3 of the mixture.</li>
<li>Use a spatula to spread the marshmallows in a layer on the pan. Allow to dry uncovered for at least 4 hours, or overnight. </li>
<li>Dust the top of the marshmallows with the rest of the powdered sugar/corn starch mixture. Use a pizza cutter or scissors to cut the marshmallows into any size or shape pieces that you’d like. I prefer large squares about the size of a coffee mug -- you can imagine why. Roll the edges in the powdered sugar/corn starch mixture to make sure they're not sticky on any sides. </li>
<li>Shake the marshmallows in a wire strainer to remove the excess powder.</li>
<li>Store in an airtight container for up to one week.</li>
<li>ENJOY!!!</li>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-485346853984648932015-12-27T15:46:00.001-05:002015-12-27T15:46:36.087-05:00Literary Bite: My Favorite Quotes This Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nowadays I'm a sorry excuse for a blogger. But life sometimes gets in the way -- you understand -- and the more momentum you lose on a project so finicky as writing, the harder it is to get it back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I write to you now from Tahoe, two days after Christmas (362 sleeps 'til next Christmas!). I have this week off of work and have truly epic plans of reading, sleeping, making and eating delicious treats, reading more, sleeping even more, skiing a couple days, and probably going on some chilly but much-needed (in light of all the eating) runs. Yep, I live the dream. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You may have noticed that the <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/search/label/Literary%20Bite" target="_blank">literary portion</a> of this blog has pretty much ceased to exist. Which is an interesting turn of events considering that unlike running, travel, and baking -- activities I love but for various reasons do not always do consistently -- reading is a constant. Granted, for the past couple years grad school reading supplanted most (but not all!) of my fun fiction reading. Though now that I'm a back to full time real person-ing (aka working a normal job), there's really no excuse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So enough chit-chat. Back to business. Or something like that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I come across a passage I like, I take a picture on my phone (it's way easier than copying out a quote), then save those in a folder for future reference. This folder often just exists, but can be nice to look back at and figure out what it was that struck me about any given phrase, sentence, page, or paragraph. Thus, in lieu reviewing each </span><a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/p/reading-list.html" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">book I read this year</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, instead I'd like to share with you my favorite quotes from the best books I read. I recommend reading them out loud -- good ideas are best when heard as well as read.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My Favorite Quotes (and books) of 2015</span></h4>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“That's the way it is in life. You let go of what is beautiful and unique. You pursue something new and don't even know that the wind of your own running is a thief.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sena Jeter Naslund, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Ahab's Wife</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">, or </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">The Star-Gazer</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 15px;">I would cry my cry to you if you were here. But you are not. Therefore it must be to Florence. Florence must be the one to suffer these moments when a veritable blast of fear goes out from me scorching the leaf on the bough. "It will be all right": those are the words I want to hear uttered. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 15px;">- J.M. Coetzee, </span><i style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 15px;">Age of Iron</i></li>
<li>"a wretched set of incompetent noodles." <span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- Adam Hochschild, </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">King Leopold's Ghost</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">I love to recall when you were one year old and you took your first steps and you fell on your bottom and cried, surprised at the hardness of the wood floor. The first stomp of your tomboy foot. The day you came in with the firewood and stood in the doorway, almost taller than I, and you said that you would be leaving soon, and I asked where and you replied to me: Exactly. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">- Colm McCann, </span><i style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">Zoli</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">Colman put back his head and roared. "Being with you," he said, "is just like being with myself. Only better." </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">- Ruth Reichl, </span><i style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 20px;">Comfort Me with Apples</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“So few American novels have happy endings. Perhaps this is not surprising in a nation whose declaration of independence provides its citizens not with the right to happiness, but the right to its pursuit.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- Azar Nafizi, </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">The Republic of Imagination</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I think about pinball, and how being a kid’s like being shot up the firing lane and there’s no veering left or right; or you’re just sort of propelled. But once you clear the top, like when you’re sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen, suddenly there’s a thousand different paths you can take, some amazing, others not. Tiny little differences in angles and speed’ll totally alter what happens to you later, so a fraction of an inch to the right, and the ball’ll just hit a pinger and a dinger and fly down between your flippers, no messing, a waste of 10 p. But a fraction to the left and it’s action in the play zone, bumpers and kickers, ramps and sl</span>ingshots and fame on the high-score table.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- David Michell, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">The Bone Clocks</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeffrey Eugenides, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Middlesex</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“Furthermore, unlike many other great predators of history, from Genghis Khan to the Spanish conquistadors, King Leopold II never saw a drop of blood spilled in anger. He never set foot in the Congo. There is something very modern about that, too, as there is about the bomber pilot in the stratosphere, above the clouds, who never hears screams or sees shattered homes or torn flesh.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- Adam Hochschild, </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">King Leopold's Ghost</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“the most powerful mind is the quiet mind. It is the mind that is present, reflective, mindful of its thoughts and its state. It doesn’t often multitask, and when it does, it does so with a purpose.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- Maria Konnikova, </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">Mastermind</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Pragmatists are sometimes more prone to illusion than dreamers; when they fall for something, they fall hard, not knowing how to protect themselves, while we dreamers are more practiced in surviving the disillusionment that follows when we wake up from our dreams.” </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- Azar Nafizi, </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">The Republic of Imagination</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered my story, I need them more than ever. ” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeffrey Eugenides, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Middlesex</i></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“If an atrocity isn't written about, it stops existing when the last witnesses die. That's what I can't stand. If a mass shooting, a bomb, a whatever, is written about, then at least it's made a tiny dent in the world's memory. Someone, somewhere, some time, has a chance of learning what happened. And, just maybe, acting on it. Or not. But at least it's there.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- David Michell, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">The Bone Clocks</i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">“Whereas I, even now, persist in believing that these black marks on white paper bear the greatest significance, that if I keep writing I might be able to catch the rainbow of consciousness in a jar.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">- </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeffrey Eugenides, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Middlesex</i></li>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-22771325195829803002015-08-11T14:08:00.002-04:002016-07-28T13:45:19.315-04:00The Best Flourless Chocolate Cake + Major Life Updates<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been a long time! Last time I blogged I was in Europe. Wow. Since then I've been based in Cambridge and had a summer-full of adventures in Newport, Tahoe, Sonoma County, San Francisco, and New Hampshire.<br />
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And I'm happy to announce that my next and more permanent stop is DC! Because a) I just couldn't stay away, but more accurately b) I got a <a href="http://www.monitor-360.com/" target="_blank">job</a>. So I'll be re-joining the full-time work force, two years older, a Master's degree smarter, and many friends richer, back in the lovely city where I started.<br />
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To celebrate, of course, I baked a cake. Earlier in the summer I made a flourless chocolate cake which other people liked, but I thought it was dry and just not very good. So I vowed to keep trying until I found a better recipe.<br />
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Well I don't need to search any longer! This recipe comes from my friend Caroline, who claims it's THE BEST. And you know what? She's right.<br />
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This cake is like the love child of a traditional super-rich and fudgy flourless chocolate cake and a light toasty-edged angel food cake. You definitely get the satisfying decadent chocolateyness, but because the egg whites are beaten and folded in, the cake puffs up and is almost spongey around the edges.<br />
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I served it with homemade whipped cream (try adding rum instead of vanilla) and raspberries. And I will <i>definitely </i>be making this again.<br />
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Fallen Chocolate Cake</h3>
(<a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/fallen-chocolate-cake" target="_blank">Source</a>)<br />
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<i>Ingredients:</i><br />
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<li>½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1” pieces, plus more, room temperature, for pan</li>
<li>¾ cup plus 2 Tbsp. sugar, divided, plus more for pan</li>
<li>10 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (61%–72% cacao), coarsely chopped</li>
<li>2 tablespoon vegetable oil</li>
<li>6 large eggs</li>
<li>2 tablespoon natural unsweetened cocoa powder</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla extract</li>
<li>¾ teaspoon kosher salt</li>
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<i>Directions:</i><br />
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<li>Preheat oven to 350°. Lightly butter a 9" springform pan.</li>
<li>In a microwave safe bowl, chocolate, oil, and ½ cup butter. Microwave for 45 seconds at a time, stirring in between, until chocolate is melted.</li>
<li>Separate 4 eggs, placing whites and yolks in separate medium bowls. Add cocoa powder, vanilla, salt, ¼ cup sugar, and remaining 2 eggs to bowl with yolks and whisk until mixture is smooth. Gradually whisk yolk mixture into chocolate mixture, blending well.</li>
<li>Using an electric mixer on high speed, beat egg whites until frothy. With mixer running, gradually beat in ½ cup sugar; beat until firm peaks form.</li>
<li>Gently fold egg whites into chocolate mixture in 2 additions, folding just until incorporated between additions. Scrape batter into prepared pan; smooth top and sprinkle with remaining 2 Tbsp. sugar.</li>
<li>Bake until top is puffed and starting to crack and cake is pulling away from edge of pan, 35-45 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cake cool completely in pan (cake will collapse in the center and crack further as it cools).</li>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-30396125828930971152015-06-17T09:43:00.000-04:002015-06-17T09:43:26.155-04:00Montenegro and Croatia: Eating the Adriatic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Alright, time for what you've all been waiting to read about: the food! ERMG the food! Warning: if you <i>don't</i> love seafood, this is not the post for you. But if you <i>do</i>, read on friends and prepare to die of jealousy/experience an insatiable urge to buy a flight the Dalmatian Coast now now.<br />
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I think we'll do this photo-slideshow style, with a brief introductory note. I was far more impressed by the food in Budva, Montenegro, than that in Dubrovnik, Croatia. Like many tourist destinations, I felt like Dubrovnik's food was solidly ok but a bit overpriced (relative to the region of course). If, like almost everyone in Dubrovnik, I was on my honeymoon and happily spending all the dollars (or kuna, as it were), then I think the fancy food would be excellent. But for a moderately-spending traveler it was good but not <i>great</i>. Montenegro, on the other hand, was GREAT. Maybe this was just the luck of where we ate. I don't know. But I do know that I will never forget a few of the following meals! </div>
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Our first night in Montenegro, tripadvisor dos not steer us wrong. We went to Konoba Knez, a tiny one-man-show locates under an ancient arch in the old city. It's tricky to find, but just ask directions at any restaurant and they'll help you out. </div>
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Though we were presented with menus, we quickly learned that this is the kind of place that the owner/chef/waiter makes you what he wants to make you, and you enjoy it. The meal began (and ended) with surprise shots of grappa -- oof! First up was fresh bread and a massive platter of mussels with a garlicy herby sauce.</div>
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After that (pictures at the beginning of this post<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">), was an even more massive platter</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> of the best cooked seafood I've ever eaten. Shrimp, grilled octopus and calamari, and tender whitefish, on a bed of lettuce with cooked Swiss chard and boiled potatoes. Memories of t</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">his dish will haunt me forever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It was about $35 US per person, including local wine and a cookie/fruit platter for dessert. (No but for reals, my mouth is watering right now as I blog on the bus just remembering that octopus and calamari.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And speaking of octopus and calamari, on to my next favorite meal! You may recall that on our first full day in Budva we took a taxi to a beautiful beach called Sveti Stefan. There weren't many food options open, so we got cappuccinos and later lunch at my new favorite restaurant: Olive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I ordered the seafood salad, and for just 7.5 euro experienced the most delicious and refreshing assortment of squid, octopus, and salmon, all perfectly cooked (no rubber garden hoses here!), dressed with olive oil and dill and served on top of tiny potatoes and avocado. SWOON.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The next night: more calamari! (We tried to have at least one calamari experience per day). Sadly I can't remember the name of this restaurant, but, ooh hello beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Next, on to Croatia! As I mentioned, I was a little less wowed by the food of Dubrovnik, but certain dishes deserve a shout-out. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One of the best things I ate in Dubrovnik wasn't seafood at all, but the Bosnian meat burek at Taj Mahal (which I've already blogged about, but will happily feature again).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And the spinach burek of course. This you can get at almost any bakery, and I highly recommend bringing it with you to eat on the beach after a swim. The heat of the sun will make the cheese meatier and the pastry flakier/butterier! (Burek must just mean pastry filled with something and rolled up? Unclear.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On our last night in Dubrovnik we wanted to go out with a bang. Unfortunately the restaurant we chose took forever (for reals, over an hour...I'm not really into restaurant shaming, but fyi Lajk is not as good as tripadvisor says it is). We didn't eat until after 10, so basically we were starving and anything would have been good. But on the bright side, the squid ink pasta was really flavorful and interesting. You know how people talk about the "umami" taste? That's what this tasted like. The shrimp and calamari in it were ok, but in an interesting inverse of the usual, the pasta itself was the best part.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And that, my friends, is that. To recap: calamari, octopus, Konoba Knez, Olive Restaurant, eating all the things all the time. TAKE ME BAAAACCCCKKKK.</span></div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-47714523331065195382015-06-15T08:34:00.001-04:002015-06-17T09:27:36.064-04:00Croatia: Cliff Jumping and Island Hopping!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let's talk about burek for a moment. Imagine a flat square of pastry dough, layered croissant-style but with spinach and cheese between each flaky layer instead of butter. Then roll up that square and twist it into a knot, ensuring equal flaky pastry and savory spinach and cheese in each bite. Yeeeep. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This is my new favorite pastry. It puts all croissants to shame! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On our second day in Dubrovnik we picked up some burek on our way through the Old City, heading to the harbor. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We took a boat (60 kuna round trip) to Lokrum Island in the middle of the bay, which we'd kayaked around the day before. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On the island there's a really old Benedictine monastery, and a not quite as old but still pretty freaking old Napoleonic fort on the top. The story goes (according to our kayak guide) that when the monks were kicked off the island they put a curse on it. Since then, everyone who has owned the island had been cursed. This includes wealthy nobles back in the day, Napoleon himself (oh hey Waterloo), and today Croatia (which, though a beautiful vacation spot, is pretty much bankrupt). And to finish off this fable, the</span> screams of the cursed souls can be heard on the island all day and all night. Or they're peacocks...I'll leave that one up to you. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The "beaches" on Lokrum are actually stone slabs dropping straight into the sea, perfect for sunning or jumping. After a rather vertical short hike to the fort (I swear we've spent this whole trip walking uphill!), we jumped in the water, and then we JUMPED in the water! (Pictured: Tim.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For sunset we took the gondola up to a panorama view above the city. It was a bit pricey (108 kuna, or $18 US) each, but totally worth it! We got drinks at the fancy restaurant up there, but I'd actually recommend bringing your own snacks/drinks and just siting on the viewing deck to watch the sunset up the coast. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It was, again, a lovely day, and our last all together! From here, Rose and I go on to Budapest then back to Boston, Laura meets her mom in Paris, and Tim's travels have only just begun and will take him through Europe and all the way to Cambodia over the next few weeks! </span></div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-6261640899536082062015-06-13T15:39:00.001-04:002015-06-17T09:28:49.601-04:00Croatia: A Perfect Day in Dubrovnik<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">What a good day, Dubrovnik! Well done! This place (which is King's Landing in Game of Thrones) has rapidly made its way into my top three cities -- I cannot believe how great it is! </span><br />
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We're staying outside the Old City at an adorable airbnb with a sea view. This morning we walked the 15 minutes to the Old City to explore the wall, a very hot but totally worth it 350-degree panorama of the city and the sea. </div>
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The walls were originally built to protect this ancient trading city from invaders and storms. They still stand today, and actually protected Dubrovnik during Croatia's war with Serbia in the early 1990s. (Un-fun fact: all the red roofs are new, meaning those buildings were bombed in 1991/2.) </div>
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Waking around the top is like being in a King Arthur book (don't worry I've read them all), except for significantly sweatier.</div>
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After the wall we stopped by Taj Mahal, which despite its name serves authentic Bosnian food, for a light lunch. However, if your wallets happen to be heavier than ours, I highly recommend this place for a heavy lunch. Or dinner. The meat and tziki bureh was a delicious philo dough roll of the most flavorful meat ever. I think this is one of the best dishes I've had on this trip. Then I just had a gazpacho, which was quite prettily served.</div>
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After a leisurely lunch, we made our way to the southern-facing outside of the wall where there is a tiered bar built into the rock and below that rocks to sunbathe on and/or jump off of. I swam and climbed on rocks while two of my comrades jumped from quite the high heights! </div>
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At 5pm we reconvened just outside the city walls for a subset kayak tour. It was 35 euro for about 3 hours, and actually a surprisingly challenging amount of kayaking! We kayaked past the harbor, along the coast a bit, then around the Lokrum Island in the middle of the bay. Unfortunately, the sun is late in setting these days, so we landed before it hit the water (dear kayak tour, better timing next time please). But we went back to our seaside rocks to watch the sunset from that point. </div>
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More about Dubrovnik on its way...this city is just too awesome to be captured in one post! </div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-13879964263072367522015-06-11T04:52:00.001-04:002015-06-28T10:40:12.894-04:00Montenegro: The Beaches, Oh the Beaches!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">After two weeks of vacation, we needed a vacation.* So we headed to Montenegro, the most beautiful little country no one knows anything about. </span><br />
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To get here we drove down the Dalmatian Coast at sunset, which is just as beautiful and exotic as it sounds. Montenegro is directly across the Adriatic Sea from Greece, with a Mediterranean landscape of steep green hills plunging directly into the clearest blue water I've ever seen (for reals, clearer than Lake Tahoe). The coastline winds in and out, creating hundreds of tiny coves and beaches and inlets and islands, perfect for beachy explorers. </div>
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We took a bus from Dubrovnik, Croatia, to Budva, Montenegro, a lovely little beach town. On our first full day we took a 10 euro taxi to Sveti Stefan, a lollypop peninsula with perfect beaches on either side. The peninsula itself is inaccessible -- it's now a luxury hotel compound. But the beaches are perfectly pebbly and the water is cold enough to be refreshing but still warm enough to swim. And in early June, pre-high season, there was plenty of space for us to lay our towels and beached bodies whatever we wanted.</div>
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And if you ever find yourself in Sveti Stefan, be sure to go to Olive Restaurant on the beach. The most picturesque cappuccino and delicious (and affordable) seafood salad ever!!! (More on Montenegrin food in a later post.)</div>
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The next day we took a 20-minute (3 euro) bus from the Budva bus station up the coast to Kotor. There, like salmon swimming upstream, like fast runners stuck in the back at the start of a 5k, like, the most determined shoppers on Black Friday, like, well, you get the idea, we waded our way through slow moving cruise boat tourists in the walled city until we finally found the path up to the castle. It's 1,350 stairs, 260 meters above sea level. Aka quite the sweaty hike. But totally worth it for both the exercise and the views! </div>
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Our tired group headed back to Budva that afternoon for, you guessed it, more beach time! I settled down with my book of Bosnian short stories by Ivo Andric, which the Budva bookstore proprietress highly recommended with hand gestures and vigorous nodding (the only other books in English were trashy romance novels).<br />
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Our third beach day was possibly my favorite of all (though it's really hard to pick a favorite). We took a short water taxi to Sveti Nicholas (15 euros round trip), the island in the middle of the bay. Our boatman dropped us off around noon and agreed to return at four, a solid amount of time for beach relaxation and fun. </div>
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This island had not only postcard beaches, but also rocks to climb! Which of course I did. </div>
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The water was deep and completely clear, so if a person were the type of person who likes jumping off things, that would be an option. I, however, contrary to popular assumption, do not like jumping off of things. So I scooted my way down and slipped into the water at the very bottom -- much safer and far preferable in my opinion. </div>
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We water taxied back for yet another relaxing evening of chilling on the balcony of our airbnb and eventually meandering into the old city for a sumptuous seafood dinner. </div>
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Our final morning in Budva, we "toured" the citadel. There isn't much to see in there, but the views are nice. </div>
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And that, dear friends, is that. In case you can't tell, I highly recommend you look into a Montenegrin vacation. Next stop Croatia!<br />
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*Living and loving the dream, one day at a time.<br />
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-63983245080778785342015-06-07T11:38:00.001-04:002015-06-17T09:31:41.783-04:00Eating Everything in Hungary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">This might be my favorite meal of the trip thus far. EVERYTHING IS AMAZING. I can't even articulate I am so overwhelmed by deliciousness and joy.</span><br />
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Ok ok I will try. As far as I can tell, Hungarian food is all about paprika. And dill. And sour cream. And delicious meat. And, when dining along the shores of Lake Balaton, the fish is pretty great too. </div>
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This meal was a tour de force. Twelve Americans (we'll count the Dutchman as an honorary American in this context) entered an out of the way living room-style dining room in Szigliget. We immediately made friends with the owner (seriously, he put our resident Hungarian-American Chris on the phone with his distant relative living in Connecticut, earning us a couple rounds of smoky sausage/tomato/bread appetizers and an excellent set of menu recommendations). </div>
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The waitress, communicating with Chris in Hungarian, tried to disaggregate her recommendations by gender (i.e. lighter portions for the ladies), but he quickly dispelled her not-unreasonable notions with a "oh you don't know our ladies. These ladies can <i>eat</i>."</div>
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I did a fishy splity-split of catfish with mashed potatoes, cauliflower with pumpkin seeds, and dill sauce as the first dish, and a local fish with pumpkin potato pancake and that same dill sauce.</div>
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We're all about sharing, so I tasted a few other meals. It's a tough call between cabbage with sausage skillet and the Hungarian beans, pork, and pickle. Both were SO GOOD. (And so huge.) Pictured above is the duck breast with prunes and pumpkin, which its eaters claim is the best thing they've ever had. Bold statement. </div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Being the eating champions we are, we polished off all the food, and</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> then moved on to dessert! We ordered five for the table: two crepes, poppyseed cake, doughnut-type fritters filled with apricot jam, and chestnut pudding. The poppyseed cake was dense and seedy and flavorful. I'm pretty sure it was just ground poppyseeds, eggs, sugar, and maybe some brandy. Yummmm. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">But the best part was the chestnut pudding. Tragically I was too distracted by eating to snap a picture, but believe me when I say, it's worth a trip to Hungary just to try this!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">So that was a meal for the record books. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">But my food epic doesn't end there! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">First, let me draw your attention to meat crepes covered in creamy paprika sauce, eaten at a lunchtime stop on our way to the vineyard. </span></div>
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Second, on the grassy lake beach we snacked on <i>langos</i> -- discs of fried bread covered in sour cream, garlic, and cheese -- and insanely amazing pork sausages dipped in Dijon mustard. (The run I went on later that afternoon suffered the consequences...hello sausage breath.)</div>
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Third and finally, one of my favorite evenings of the trip. Our firemasters concocted a giant pot of stew over the open flames: potatoes, onion, chicken, paprika roux, and I don't even know what else. </div>
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Part of its charm was the way it was cooked and the accompanying sunset/night sky, but really this dish would have been good anywhere. </div>
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And that, my friends, is that. Hungarian food gets all my thumbs up! </div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-78989893445987097632015-06-07T08:09:00.001-04:002015-06-28T10:26:22.761-04:00Living on a Hungarian Vineyard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">How to describe my four days in Hungary, staying on a friend's family vineyard on top of a mountain overlooking the largest lake in Europe with full access to the cellars? Oof. None of my usual descriptors -- amazing, beautiful, spectacular, perfect, relaxing, luxurious, delightful -- quite seem to cut it. It was four days of clear skies, </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">sweeping vistas, warm </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">sunshine, the best of people, delicious food, and joy. </span><br />
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We arrived in Budapest Sunday evening after a grueling journey that took us through Riga (oh hey Latvia, welcome to my country list!), and left us sans a single piece of luggage to our tired dirty names. Thus instead of seeing the Budapest sites upon arrival, we made a few necessary detours to H&M, Zara, and a series of drugstores for toiletries. On the brighter side, we added two additional friends to our crew that evening, and two more the following morning before we hopped in our rental cars and were on our way south. </div>
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A few hours later our three-car train made its way up a hill and pulled into a vineyard with a spectacular view. We must be stopping here to take pictures, my carmates speculated as we piled out to take in the scenery. No wait, this is it?!? Are you serious? This is insane!!!</div>
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The 12 of us (two more met us there!) occupied three little houses on the property, which belongs to Chris's family. Lazy mornings reading on the deck, days lounging on the lake beach, sunset snacks (again with the view of course), and evenings drinking the vineyard's wine around a bonfire. I cannot believe this is my life. </div>
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Our was not completely slothly though. The first morning we climbed to the ancient castle ruins on the mountain across the valley, and the second morning three of us ran 10 miles to the beach and back. The only downside of staying on top of a mountain is that every run ends on a brutal uphill!</div>
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One day we drove to a nearby spa town that has natural sulfur hot springs. To be honest, it was weird. Picture a huge pond full of elderly Hungarians bobbing up and down in floaties, soaking in the healing benefits of the lukewarm water. And then us 20-30-something Americans. Twelve of these things are not like the others...</div>
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On Thursday morning Chris's uncle came to give us at tour of the family's winemaking facilities up the hill. It's a tiny operation, housed in a cool stone building constructed 150 years ago. Our vintner explained (translated through Chris), that most of the tiny vineyards around are family-owned, and people don't want to sell them because they like keeping them as summer homes. The wine isn't long fermented because there isn't the local market for that (aged wine is more expensive). </div>
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The grapes (as far as I understood) are Sauvignon blanc, and they produce a variety of red, white, and rose wines (both dry and sweet). For our impromptu 11 am tasting, the uncle used a small hose to siphon off a glass for each of us from the giant plastic tanks in the cold cellar room, while the more scientifically-inclined of us asked him more questions about the winemaking process. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As a Northern Californian, vineyard landscapes are not new to me. However, calling a vineyard home for multiple days with 11 of my favorite humans and eating paprika-tastic Hungarian food the whole time really is special. (More about the food later!) We all said goodbye Friday morning -- some heading back to the U.S., many on to other places, and myself and three others to Croatia and Montenegro!</span></div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-80404423682737595162015-05-31T18:20:00.001-04:002015-06-28T10:26:37.738-04:00Azerbaijan, aka We Made it to Absurdistan!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After a 15-hour train ride (which was all fun and games and midnight train car dance parties until they turned off the AC at 2am and I fainted), our group finally arrived at the inspiration for this entire trip: Baku, Azerbaijan. </div>
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This once cosmopolitan capital on the Caspian is today a bizarre combination of old Azeri culture, early 20th century Italian architecture, Soviet Union utilitarianism, and Dubai-esque super-modernism. </div>
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We're here in a large part because my friends all read a book called <i>Absurdistan</i>, based in a fictional post-Soviet country inspired by Azerbaijan's capital city. (I read the book too; it was definitely absurd, though to be honest I wouldn't recommend it.)</div>
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Overall, however, this strange outpost of Baku is far nicer than expected! The aforementioned Kyle has lived here for a year studying language, so we stayed at his apartment. He showed us around the city center, which, with its fountains and walkways and parks, appears totally normal (seriously, it could be LA). </div>
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However, despite "normal" appearances, things are not quite what they seem. For example, the government subsidizes luxury stores that no one shops in (Tiffany, Hermes, etc.) for appearances sake. The romantic and exotic-sounding Caspian Sea, rimmed by a beautiful boardwalk-type park, is a brown disgusting almost lifeless oil-stained still mess. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The seaside park itself is FULL of policemen patrolling in groups (don't try to nap on the grass). </span>Usually billboards everywhere depict the president's face, but were recently taken down because of the upcoming European Games (which Baku is hosting...even though it's not really Europe...hrmmm). And relatively recently the intelligencia has fled due to an influx of refugees, thus no one quite knows what the population of Baku is. </div>
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So it's weird here. But I kind of like it. And overall I can't believe I'm in Azerbaijan, a country most Americans have never heard of and of which I knew nothing about until a couple months ago.</div>
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After showering off the dirt and grease of the train, we ventured out into the city. Our first stop was the Cultural Center, which is by far the coolest building I've ever been in. It's designed based on the former president's signature, a structure of swoops and curves both inside and out. We saw an exhibit called Mini Azerbaijan, which was a series of models of the city's major sites, as well as an exhibit of Azerbaijan's traditional culture. </div>
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Outside the city center and beyond, the countryside is a desert. The earth is torn up in chunks, dotted by the accoutrements of an oil-dependent nation: metal towers, cranes, and oil wells upon oil wells upon oil wells scattered across the land and sea. The palate is grayish blues brownish (sky), tan (sand), and grayish bluish brownish (sea). </div>
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I know this because on our one full day in Azerbaijan we drove an hour outside the city to experience the country's mud volcanos. (Readers of this blog may recall that mud volcanoes and I have a history, starting in Colombia last spring break.) </div>
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It's just a series of pools of mud out in the middle of nowhere. You drive up, look, play in/on them, get mud all over yourself, and drive home. The mud is cold and bubbles up in blurping burps. Totally bizarre, but weirdly fun. </div>
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We leave this great metropolis at 2am tonight. It's been a bit absurd, but also totally enjoyable. Bye bye Azerbaijan! Next stop Budapest (via a brief stop in Riga)!<br />
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-57342738097366738222015-05-30T08:58:00.001-04:002015-06-17T15:22:29.833-04:00Georgia (the country): Eating in and around Tbilisi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I could give you a detailed description of every aspect of our Tbilisi experience, but in the interest of time and attention-span, I have decided to abbreviate the site-seeing and instead focus on the food. </div>
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Because Georgian food [<i>swoon</i>], Georgian food! It's your new favorite cuisine that you've never heard of. The best dumplings (khinkhali) and kebabs (shashlik) and tomatoes and eggplant and bread and cheese! So so so sooo much cheese! </div>
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Where do I even start? Each meal was a tour de force, with our trusty Kyle leading us across the region's cuisine, our six hungry bellies ready for whatever he deemed desirable.</div>
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The first night we walked to a basement hole-in-the wall in Tbilisi, which ended up being one of my favorite meals of the trip. We had a spinach and walnut and herb pesto-type of "salad," roasted eggplant with walnut paste, the best tomato and cucumber and parsley salad (there is nothing better than a perfectly fresh tomato with a sprinkling of salt), and the piece de resistance: a plate of warm melty cheese that tasted like a combination of mozzarella and super-mild cream cheese and pulled up in long luscious strings from the plate (not pictured in its full glory because we were distracted by eating...sorry but not sorry).</div>
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And the best part is that even when cold this cheese maintains its creamy texture (unlike moz, which when cooked turns into an unappetizing rubbery chewy ball in my opinion). The waitress scolded us for putting the cheese on the bread. Apparently it is to be eaten plain, and the same goes for all Georgian food. They're really opposed to mixing, so I snuck my mixing while her back was turned.</div>
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On the way to see churches outside of Tbilisi (we saw Georgia's ancient capital including its 5th century church, the tombs of the first Christian king and queen of Georgia, and a church high atop a hill overlooking the river), we stopped for lunch at a well-known roadside restaurant. There the specialty was pots of Georgian beans and dense fried cornbread. Plus savory kebabs of ground beef wrapped in lavash-like bread, and another peasant's salad, this time with a ground walnut dressing. </div>
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And now that brings me to the bread! After an evening of bathing in Tiblisi (literally, we went to a natural sulfur spring bath house and rented a room to steam and soak and scrub for an hour and a half), we finally tasted Georgia's most famous food: kachapuri. There are two kinds of this magical dish. One is a flat pizza-like pastry filled with chunky white cheese. </div>
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The other comes like a bread boat -- the bread is like pizza dough and completely full of melty cheese, with an egg yolk and pat of butter on top to be stirred in before eating. We destroyed a flotilla of kachapuri boats that night, plus a few more the next day. Healthy they are not, but 100% worth it. </div>
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Not pictured in this post are the dumplings, which are round pockets of juicy broth and meat. You bite into them then suck the juice out before it spills, then proceed to enjoy the dumpling. Soooo good! </div>
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On our second full day we drove a couple hours out of the city the wine region of the country. This so-called City of Love, high up looking out at the countryside was absolutely beautiful. We sat down to a luxurious lunch and wine tasting at Pheasant's Tears Winery. Georgian wine is delicious! Really dark dry reds, and surprisingly good whites. If you're in the DC area apparently this winery export to you, so pick up a bottle if you can!</div>
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Apparently there are no Georgian restaurants in the US. None. This is a travesty and any entrepreneur reading this should seriously consider starting one. Preferably somewhere I live.</div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-79555320795148993642015-05-28T13:26:00.001-04:002015-06-17T15:18:55.202-04:00Georgia! (the country) -- Getting There<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm happy to report that I just started my most recent international excursion -- a 3-week trip through Georgia, Azerbaijan, Hungary, Slovenia, and Croatia!</div>
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I find myself again in a transition, again on an adventure. A lot has changed since I blogged about my pre-grad school Nepal/Southeast Asia trip. For one, I now have a Master's degree. But much more importantly, I have a whole host of new friends -- people I love so much I can't believe we've known each other for such a short time.<br />
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My Fletcher people are all going in different directions -- quite literally all over the world -- but while the world is large our interconnectedness makes it small (sorry, cheesy I know, but true). I'm now on my way to Georgia with a group of six friends: one Dutch, one Kiwi, one American who lives in Baku, one Hungarian-American, another American American, and myself of course.<br />
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I'm becoming a pretty well-seasoned traveler, but I don't think I'll ever lose the excitement. That thrilling feeling of stepping onto an airplane and not knowing exactly what to expect when I step off. Our first city is Tbilisi, Georgia, and we're immediately heading into the mountains to a region called Kazbegi that looks absolutely amazing. Beyond that I have minimal expectations and maximum enthusiasm!</div>
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Right now though the trip has barely even begun. So far all I can tell you is that a New York bagel with cream cheese eaten in a Lower East Side park is quite pleasant on a late May morning. That our cab driver incredulously exclaimed, "Azerbaijan?? Ha! No, Azerbaijan is not for tourism," semi-scandalized but mostly amused by our young American idiocy. That Azerbaijan Air is pleasant surprisingly fancy. And that an 11-hour flight totals to one nap, two movies, three meals, and 192 pages of reading. </div>
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(The "cocoons" at Baku's airport where we transferred.)</div>
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It will get more exciting I promise. I will, of course, keep you posted! </div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-61198371922741796002015-05-28T13:15:00.001-04:002015-06-17T15:19:21.901-04:00Georgia (the country): Mountains of Kazbegi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here I am in Georgia, traveling with six friends from school! Led by our brilliant Kyle, who is fluent in Russian and Azerbaijani (not to mention French, Spanish, and Kyrgyz), we couldn't go wrong.</div>
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Meal after meal, ancient church after ancient church, beautiful vista after beautiful vista after beautiful vista he led us through the country, translating and explaining and herding us just-graduated cats along the way. Operating the switchboard was his Georgian friend, and at his beck and call was our trusty cab driver Rati who not only drove us all over the country in his minivan that "seats seven" (aka would comfortably seat 4-5) but also ensured our salvation by buying us mini Saint Neno paintings and Georgian wine at lunch (because according to Georgians this food CANNOT be appreciated without the appropriate house wine brewed in beeswax-coated clay pots buried in their yards). </div>
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The first stop was Kazbegi, a mountain and a town and a region in northern Georgia. We stayed at Rooms Hotel, an absolutely gorgeous outpost of luxury boasting expansive mountain views without and rustic chic relaxation within. While our catalog-like life began as Restoration Hardware, it quickly progressed to Patagonia as we hiked up (literally, straight up), to a 5th century church across the valley. We acquired a canine friend along the way (lovingly dubbed Kazi), as well as a Britt named James who is in the process of cycling around the globe. (Check out his blog at www.thelifecycle.org.)</div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You know that feeling when you stand on top of a mountain and breath in? That fully alive and free and purely happy atop-the-world exhilaration? We spent two beautiful days in that, whether we were literally on top of a mountain or on the deck at our hotel looking out at the mountains. I love open space!!! </span></div>
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The second morning we decided on a brief hike up part of the mountain behind the hotel. Not sure if we were trespassing, we scrambled through the woods until we reached a road, a church, and a clearing. Nowhere else to go but up! We hiked a bit more until we were sitting on a ridge overlooking the town and the mountains beyond, just taking it all in. </div>
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We watched a white jeep zipping up the road, past the church, and into the valley below us. "Uhoh are we about to get in trouble?" We wondered. "Apparently the Russians are coming for us," we joked. Until we saw combat boots hit the green springy grass on the far side of the jeep, and made out a fatigue-clad figure carrying a giant rifle. "No but really..." our jokes took on a concerned edge as five more militant types, all carrying massive guns, exited the vehicle. Nothing to do but wait and see. They strutted out, pointed at the rocky cliff face of the mountains above, and then proceeded to unfurl and set up their "guns," which turned out to be tripods! We breathed a collective sigh of relief and made our way down. Turns out they were Polish bird watchers searching for the coveted Caucasian Grouse, as the English-speaker among them explained. Though they continued to glare at us and did in fact look military (buzz cuts, camo, unfriendly expressions), they let us look through their telescope (idk what else to call it) to see a bird perched high on the mountain. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That afternoon it was time for us to go. The driver spoke with Kyle in Russian as he tied our bags to the top of the minivan. "He says the girls should get in because it's cold." The three of us dutifully squeezed into the back seat meant for two. FYI, according to Georgians, women need to keep their ovaries warm, otherwise they'll be infertile. </span></div>
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The drive back to Tiblisi, though long, was interesting in and of itself. The rocks and mountain faces along the way we're fascinating. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The earth had pushed up vertical mountains of stratified ancient volcanic rock that splinters and looked more like a broken tree trunk than the collection of minerals that it was. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyOVFtJ1uWMz51KbFXfUVFiwcxdzeRN7beQV2PhyphenhyphentjdQIbahpofphyISW05hiFDKQycYhjPSIlWdoJVxe6JUXqP8iSQwZ26AmI7MNJHQKn2c3LmoWdMddHE5AKvI_atv9AX6hcFsJlFrU_/s640/blogger-image--716593132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyOVFtJ1uWMz51KbFXfUVFiwcxdzeRN7beQV2PhyphenhyphentjdQIbahpofphyISW05hiFDKQycYhjPSIlWdoJVxe6JUXqP8iSQwZ26AmI7MNJHQKn2c3LmoWdMddHE5AKvI_atv9AX6hcFsJlFrU_/s400/blogger-image--716593132.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As on the way up, seas of shaggy sleep with curly horns, dreaded wool, and double butts (bred for the extra fat coveted by the Turks) flooded the road, stopping traffic entirely and freezing our van amidst an oncoming flood of baa-ing wooly beasts.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The next post will be about Tiblisi and surrounding areas...</span></div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-43679506695506644362015-05-07T16:04:00.001-04:002015-05-07T16:04:51.237-04:00Chilled Parsley Pea Soup<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Imagine jumping off a dock into a cold clear lake on a hot July day. The water at first surprises you and then refreshes you in the best possible way. All you want to do is jump in again and again and again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdP9cGeWeUtq2m3yItHYe0s2XNv5WDkMQubf5y8w7HAY3Mex0Eivil5gRcHhPUqbhi9kH6H3WtdeeERa0g5J9zlUT0kAR1TKHqb0tV7Eu0w-crj-R_8mgLu17V96O9_OioFzFasK67gp6V/s1600/IMG_5745.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdP9cGeWeUtq2m3yItHYe0s2XNv5WDkMQubf5y8w7HAY3Mex0Eivil5gRcHhPUqbhi9kH6H3WtdeeERa0g5J9zlUT0kAR1TKHqb0tV7Eu0w-crj-R_8mgLu17V96O9_OioFzFasK67gp6V/s640/IMG_5745.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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That, my friends, is what this soup tastes like. Or so decided my dinner guests after their first few bites the other night.<br />
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"Wow. I'm just going to sit back and...wow," groaned one friend. "I don't even like peas," stated another, looking into my eyes with all sincerity. "I actually hate peas. But this?" He signed. "<i>This!</i>"<br />
The final accolade captured it for all of us, "Hands down, best soup I've ever had. Seriously, ever."<br />
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Who knew this simple concoction of peas and parsley and lemon could elicit such emotion? It's so so easy to make, surprisingly healthy, and, as already explained, <i>insanely </i>delicious.<br />
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I served this soup as the third course in a spring-themed celebratory five-part eating extravaganza (cheese and fruit plate, assorted amuse bouches, soup, salmon, cheesecake). We were celebrating the end of grad school, the 36th and final Wednesday Dinner Party, and our general love for one another.<br />
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I made the soup the night before, and I think that is CRITICAL. It needs time to sit and for the flavors to make friends with each other.<br />
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Without further ado, here you go. Eat this like we did, as a light appetizer course, or a summertime lunch on your back porch, or serve it with crusty bread and cheese and call it dinner in and of itself. Whatever you do, make this -- you will not regret it. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Chilled Parsley and Pea Soup</h3>
aks "Zapasoup"<br />
Serves 8 (though I served 12 appetizer-sized servings)<br />
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<i>Ingredients:</i><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>splash olive oil</li>
<li>2 medium yellow onions </li>
<li>4 cloves garlic</li>
<li>sea salt</li>
<li>2 lb. shelled peas (frozen is fine -- so two bags)</li>
<li>2 cups flat leaf (Italian) parsley, chopped</li>
<li>6-8 cups vegetable broth (depends on how thick you want it) -- and I'll be honest, I used water and vegetable bouillon cubes. </li>
<li>zest and juice of of 1 lemon </li>
<li>1/2 cup half and half</li>
<li>fresh ground pepper (about 1/2 teaspoon)</li>
<li>another splash olive oil</li>
</ul>
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<i>Directions:</i><br />
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Ideally you should make this one day in advance. </li>
<li>Roughly chop the onions and mince the garlic.</li>
<li>In a large pot, heat a generous slash of olive oil. Add onions and a couple pinches of salt, stir to coat, cook for 5-10 minutes until onions become translucent and start to brown. Add garlic, stir to coat, cook three minutes.</li>
<li>Add 6 cups hot vegetable broth, add peas, bring to a simmer and turn off the heat. Add parsley and fold in to wilt leaves. </li>
<li>Let the soup cool for 15 minutes. Add half and half, pepper, and a splash of olive oil. Use an immersion blender (or a regular blender) to blend the soup on high until smooth. Add more broth if needed. Add in lemon zest and juice. </li>
<li>Let the soup chill in the fridge overnight. Before serving, blend it again if it's looking not quite smooth enough.</li>
<li>Serve cold or room temperature. Swoon. </li>
</ol>
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*Beautiful soup photo by the talented Jon White. </div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-64737395680236360822015-04-22T18:02:00.000-04:002015-10-29T12:22:49.856-04:00Boston Marathon Race Report<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I ran the Boston Marathon!!! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0SDVIn-5kyTGQiPPNOKV5HtQOuvSF8ptMQtuLgvXjkAu5pFl7xbGeTyIeo1-YD4MzHot_jUmYnfvmCuNI444tc7ZT4vABEHAXvMMfa34vguJ81TpB4QvqWM5DmFBbx4c-gctf1pqpAEb/s1600/150420_16132_marathon1277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0SDVIn-5kyTGQiPPNOKV5HtQOuvSF8ptMQtuLgvXjkAu5pFl7xbGeTyIeo1-YD4MzHot_jUmYnfvmCuNI444tc7ZT4vABEHAXvMMfa34vguJ81TpB4QvqWM5DmFBbx4c-gctf1pqpAEb/s1600/150420_16132_marathon1277.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying hey to Coach at Mile 9!</td></tr>
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This was my second marathon ever and <i>ohhh </i>man. You may not be able to tell by the pictures, but it was <i>rough</i>. Now, two days later, I would like to tell you that I will never run again and definitely never run a marathon again. But you and I both know that's probably not true...</div>
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Anywho, before things got real between Hopkinton and Copley, I had a great weekend with <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/search/label/Sister2" target="_blank">Sister2</a>! She came from San Francisco to hang out, relax, carbo-load, and cheer me on. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjf2_2dQYPuc-1QgvuSRbQF18HJZtj5J9T7gQ-HC9TQos9K25hkSjEK6Nxc1bkyx_-jHRMCTMWIYA92SOw19Ko11oG1QJZLr0oVbY8huQhy3HZiPk7QWr84SuaXN8l3Oj7mQqQzogG_gX/s1600/11169250_10204978224989244_5568402089781158108_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjf2_2dQYPuc-1QgvuSRbQF18HJZtj5J9T7gQ-HC9TQos9K25hkSjEK6Nxc1bkyx_-jHRMCTMWIYA92SOw19Ko11oG1QJZLr0oVbY8huQhy3HZiPk7QWr84SuaXN8l3Oj7mQqQzogG_gX/s1600/11169250_10204978224989244_5568402089781158108_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Food-wise go ahead and be jealous -- we had Indian, Ethiopian, brunch, cake, and cannolis yummm. We meandered around Cambridge and Boston and went to the Marathon Expo to see what was to be seen (and get some free snacks). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Volunteer: Do you want a pen to sign the wall?<br />
Me: No thanks, I just want to pose here for a sec...</td></tr>
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I was running for the Tufts Marathon Team, so we all celebrated with a dinner the night before the race. We'd been training together since September, and for most of people this was their first marathon experience. The team was 100 runners total, 13 of which were Fletcher students. Look at all of us, so happy and unsuspecting... . </div>
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At the dinner we strategized the spectating (I take this seriously), mapping out who would be where and when. </div>
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Now on to race morning!<br />
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As anyone who pays attention to marathons knows, Boston was RAINY this year. The charity wave (Wave 4) started at 11:15, about 15 minutes after it started coming down. En masse we made our way through the streets of Hopkington, bundled in thrift store clothing until the last possible second. (Did I wear velour sweatpants? Yes. Yes I did.)<br />
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The start line itself was shockingly small and to be honest kind of anti-climactic. At that point I was just ready to run. BUT OH WAIT. When you start a race with a gazillion other people, turns out you can't really run. I'd expected this of course, so it wasn't a huge deal. I put my mad duck-and-weave skillz to work for the first five miles, running on the shoulder and in the dirt and puddles, probably adding on some serious unnecessary distance as I zig-zagged across the road. (My pace I think was between 8 and 9 per mile for this part.)<br />
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As I got into more open road I hit a rhythm and felt better, running something more like 7:20-7:40 miles. The crowds in the first few towns were awesome! It really is a 26.2 mile block party for the people of Massachusetts.<br />
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At Mile 9 saw the Tufts contingent and they went crazy! A whole bus-load of other people's parents cheering for me? I'll take it! Coach jumped into the course to say great job (see the first picture in this post) and I was on my way.<br />
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Ok so up to this point it's all sounding pretty good. But shortly after the Tufts group things started to get shaky. All of a sudden in Natick Mile 11 felt like Mile 20...but it was only Mile 11. I told myself no big deal -- in marathons pain is not linear and you can feel bad then feel good later on (which is true!).<br />
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Three of my classmates surprised me in Wellesley (Mile 13), and I was SO HAPPY to see some familiar faces. I had no idea how much a difference it would make to have people I know cheering for me along the way. That gave me a boost that lasted a couple miles.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSAljsBE2n4ZykJXdHHP-vkqixmExNQoCcgc4BYN9y7lIwg45MbZhsMDFTxy5ZDC_0rmwyjLQvN2iRqXZFsOybppUOBbSRp5ErdUM7ODNH4wT3d1Mw9MBK875CA6AC6xRaiyFyHecSzxT/s1600/heartbreak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSAljsBE2n4ZykJXdHHP-vkqixmExNQoCcgc4BYN9y7lIwg45MbZhsMDFTxy5ZDC_0rmwyjLQvN2iRqXZFsOybppUOBbSRp5ErdUM7ODNH4wT3d1Mw9MBK875CA6AC6xRaiyFyHecSzxT/s1600/heartbreak.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
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From Wellesley to Newton, however, was a deep dark journey of misery that I hope to never repeat. Everything hurt SO MUCH. Usually I'm good on downhills but everything from my knees down was in excruciating pain. I just kept thinking that it was too cold to walk, and that I couldn't drop out because people came out to see me. I knew a big group of friends was waiting at the top of Heartbreak Hill, so I willed myself to make it there, telling myself that I could run as slow as I wanted but I <i>had </i>to finish. <br />
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OH and here's a random occurrence/question: at the base of Heartbreak Hill next to the intersection of Lowell Street and Commonwealth Avenue I saw a person holding a cardboard sign that said EatRunRead!?! And at first I thought it was a random coincidence, but the sign also had a picture of my running cupcake logo! I was too delirious to fully register and stop to investigate at the time -- but who was this person? If you're reading this leave a comment because the mystery is killing me!<br />
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As expected, the massive group of Fletcher cheerleaders at the top of Heartbreak Hill gave me a major boost, followed by these heroes at Mile 22. I was so encouraged by the people cheering me on, there is no way I would have kept going without them!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEj-jTMf3E_J5qogq9Ytk-3iADUpinkbk3mfq4K8OjdMPxR-souDICgGRgiy-sMaZGej1JmXLHzpkrofll_1zQdBHCHFGPXiWqTD1vv4ltkmbkqqJdJqbRkO5Yr5QJMeEcWIsesd3Gwld4/s1600/gabe+and+liam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEj-jTMf3E_J5qogq9Ytk-3iADUpinkbk3mfq4K8OjdMPxR-souDICgGRgiy-sMaZGej1JmXLHzpkrofll_1zQdBHCHFGPXiWqTD1vv4ltkmbkqqJdJqbRkO5Yr5QJMeEcWIsesd3Gwld4/s1600/gabe+and+liam.JPG" width="318" /></a></div>
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Those last few miles? Well, they happened. I was yet again pulled along and then pushed ahead by my main cheering contingent -- my sister, boyfriend, and best friend all at Kenmore Square just 1.5 miles from the finish! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again, I look so happy!? Mostly happy I was almost done...</td></tr>
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So I made it. I crossed the finish line, was given a medal and some water and a completely useless wrap thing (I believe they are supposed to be solar-ish to keep you warm, which requires sunshine), and after some very slow wandering through the cold found my people! </div>
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I'm definitely glad it's over, though I think it's a little too soon to say I'm glad I did it. </div>
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But I DO want to say THANK YOU to everyone who donated to my fundraiser, and supported me along the course, and who have put up with my whining since then (so many stairs in my life...the struggles are so real). And also a big congrats to everyone who ran on Monday! As I neared the finish line a woman kept shouting "We're finishing the Boston Marathon! We're finishing the Boston Marathon! We're finishing the Boston Marathon!" And we did. </div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-1800444296893501182015-04-02T14:06:00.000-04:002015-04-02T15:47:10.421-04:00Cake of the Week: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You guys. My thesis may not be finished and my post-graduation future may be completely up in the air, but I finally found the right carrot cake recipe for me, so all is right with the world!</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Everyone loves carrot cake. It's the cream cheese frosting, the spicy-ish flavor, and the delicious moist texture that adding veggies to desserts so often yields. But at the same time, everyone has their own carrot cake preferences. Nuts or no nuts? What about raisins? How crumbly? How chunky? Layer cake or sheet cake? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I'm pretty positive I found the perfect balance in this recipe: carrots, pineapple, pecans, coconut, and the magic ingredient: apple sauce! This cake is all things a carrot cake should be, plus it's healthy(ish) -- just a quarter cup of oil in the whole cake. The frosting on the other hand...well, if the cake is healthier then that balances out the frosting, amiright? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">This is the perfect Easter/springtime/anytime dessert. <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/search/label/Roommate%20Rachel" target="_blank">RoommateRachel</a> and I had seven friends over last night to celebrate East-Over: Matzo Ball Soup followed by this Carrot Cake. <i>Deeelicious</i>. We poured a glass of wine for Elijah, and then snacked on dark chocolate Easter eggs after dinner was over. Mash-up holidays really are the best. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting </span></span></h4>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i>Cake Ingredients:</i></span></div>
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<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1¼ c unsweetened applesauce </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1/4 cup oil</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">2 c sugar</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">3 eggs</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">2 c flour</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 tsp baking soda</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1½ tsp baking powder</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">½ tsp salt</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 tsp cinnamon</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">2 c grated carrots</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 c coconut</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 c chopped nuts (optional -- pecans or walnuts)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 tsp vanilla or whiskey</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 cup Dole crushed pineapple (not drained!) -- use the pineapple in JUICE not syrup.</span></li>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i>Cream Cheese Frosting Ingredients:</i></span></div>
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<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">½ c butter (softened)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">8 oz cream cheese (softened)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">1 tsp vanilla</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">2-3 cups powdered sugar</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">milk as needed</span></li>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i>Directions: </i></span></div>
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<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Preheat oven to 350 degrees.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Combine wet ingredients. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Mix in dry ingredients. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Stir in carrots, coconut, nuts, vanilla/whiskey and pineapple. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Pour into two greased and floured 9-inch round cake pans.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Bake for 35-40 minutes until the cake just starts to pull away from the sides and the middle doesn't look gooey. Let cakes cool in pans for 10 minutes, then run a spatula or knife around the edges and turn out onto a wire rack to finish cooling. The cakes must cool completely before frosting!</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">For the frosting:</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Beat the butter and cream cheese thoroughly. Add in the vanilla and 2 cups powdered sugar and beat until and smooth. Add milk one splash (about a tablespoon at a time), along with the rest of the powdered sugar until it reaches a spreadable consistency. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Assemble: </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Frost first layer (with a generous layer of frosting in the middle). Put second cake on top and frost first the sides and then the top of the cake. Decorate with coconut and chopped nuts and chocolate Easter eggs if desired. </span></li>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-81415095113187015332015-03-27T10:40:00.000-04:002015-03-27T11:39:18.687-04:00Countdown: 24 days until the Boston Marathon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's less than a month until the Boston Marathon (24 days to be exact) and I am cramming in the training like a freshman before finals.<br />
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<a href="http://indianapublicmedia.org/news/files/2014/04/280932690_3d4efa0126_b-940x626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://indianapublicmedia.org/news/files/2014/04/280932690_3d4efa0126_b-940x626.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a>WAIT. Calm down. I am going to taper. But there is a plan and that plan involves running another 20-miler this weekend! Woohoo? (<i>Siiiiigh </i>20 miles all by myself, solo, alone with my thoughts...)</div>
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I'm following the same training plan I used for my last marathon (thanks <a href="http://www.capitalarearunners.com/" target="_blank">George</a>!), except <i>ahem </i>I may or may not have taken a week off here and there this time around. So yes, I'm behind. Thus, what kind of shape am I in? Who knows. I don't even know! It's been a bit of a roller coaster ride training-wise, so come race day I could run anything from a PR to a 4-hour marathon. </div>
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So here's the plan: 20 this weekend, 16 next weekend, 12 the weekend after that, then marathon time!</div>
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The good news is that it is FINALLY spring(ish) here in Boston! Case in point: today I went for a run in the rain. Which might sound unpleasant to some but <i>focus</i>, I said <i>rain</i>, not <i>snow</i>! </div>
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So what did this month-before-marathon week look like? </div>
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<li>Monday: run 6.6 miles</li>
<li>Tuesday: tempo workout -- warm up 2 miles, 2x2 miles with 1 mile in between, 2 miles cool down -- 9 miles total</li>
<li>Wednesday: yoga!</li>
<li>Thursday: run 6.6 miles</li>
<li>Friday: tempo run -- warm up 2 miles, 4 mile tempo, cool down 2 miles -- 8 total</li>
<li>Saturday: run 4 miles</li>
<li>Sunday: 20 mile progression run</li>
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So after Sunday, my week total will be 54 miles, which isn't a lot for marathoners, but it's plenty for me!</div>
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Anywho, just wanted to give you people of the interwebs an update on my training. Next week I'll write more on how to taper! And also marathon nutrition, because gels and gus and blocs and hydration are <i>important</i>.<br />
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(Also, please help me get to my fundraising goals by <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/tuftsboston2015/fundraiser/molliezapata/" target="_blank">donating to childhood obesity research</a>!)</div>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-74665269537159910602015-03-08T13:16:00.000-04:002015-03-08T13:21:06.415-04:00The Worst Run Ever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sometimes running can be <i>really </i>terrible. We've all been
there -- a run that starts bad and gets worse. And worse. And worse. If you're
anything like me, such a run makes you question your fitness and training and existence,
leading you to regret taking up this insane sport in the first place. </div>
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Luckily the truly terrible runs are relatively rare.
Unluckily I experienced one recently. </div>
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Pause: It sounds like we're going down a deep dark path of
intense misery and self-pity...and I'll be honest, we are (briefly). BUT happily
this blog has a happy ending. Because though one bad run may feel like the end
of all things good, it's not! It's just a bad day! And a week later you can
have an awesome run and feel amazing!</div>
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So with that happy ending guaranteed, we return to the
story. </div>
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I was in DC last weekend for school and work. On Saturday I
had a brunch reservation for 10:45 at Zengo (aka the morning is time-bound...this
fact becomes relevant later), so of course I met <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/search/label/SpeedyKate" target="_blank">SpeedyKate</a> for a long run
beforehand. </div>
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I was so psyched to be somewhere not under 4 feet of snow!
With sidewalks! That I could see! And a balmy temp above zero! As I <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/2015/02/marathon-training-in-series-of.html" target="_blank">mentioned in previous posts</a>, I've been having a hard time getting my long runs in (because
Boston), so this DC venture seemed like a necessary moment for a 16-miler
(because marathon). </div>
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I woke up tired that morning, not really feeling like
running, but that's never stopped me before. Not questioning my predetermined
fate, I pulled on my tights and went out to meet SpeedyKate. We ran down into
Rock Creek Park with the plan of surviving running roadside (the bike path was completely
caked in ice) until we got to Beach Drive, which is closed to cars on weekends.
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I frequently start a run feeling tired, but then as I warm
up and get in a rhythm it gets better. I wanted that to be the case on this
run. We hit the 4-mile mark and all I wanted to do was turn back, but I thought
maybe it would get better. We passed 6-miles and still I felt the same. We got
to the end of the road (about 7.5 miles in) and stopped in a bathroom to
briefly warm up and eat some sports beans. At this point all I knew was that
had to survive the run back. </div>
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Our rapid-fire chatter had slowed to a silent stoic slog (on
my part at least). I mentally grasped onto each story SpeedyKate told, secretly
telling myself that I could walk when she finished talking, but then when she
got to the end, telling myself, no you have to keep going. At about mile 12 I
couldn't do it anymore though. Kate, I'm sorry, but we have to walk. This has literally
never happened before, but whatever, we're friends, and honestly I was too
tired to feel ashamed or care. We walked for maybe 100 meters, then the promise
of brunch (and the fact that we had to get back in time to get to brunch) got
me going again. I hobbled my way to the end of the run, dodging cars, resisting
crying, and HATING running with the most burning of burning passion with every
step. Never again, never again, never again I chanted to myself as I ran up the
last hill. Which is obviously not even a little bit true, but in the moment felt
like the only promise that would get me to the finish. </div>
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A very hot shower and <a href="http://www.richardsandoval.com/zengodc/uploads/menus/zengodc-brunch.pdf" target="_blank">4-hour brunch later</a> (no joke, DC knows
how to brunch) I felt like a human again. Turns out I was getting sick and
didn't really realize it, which explains at least part of the terribleness of
that morning. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11034283_10103034579814555_5547600225221108206_n.jpg?oh=bdfcaacefe835a85d05dd696c2a41736&oe=558ACFA9&__gda__=1434316492_4943e02cd72f8e22b1ecba43af9138ff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11034283_10103034579814555_5547600225221108206_n.jpg?oh=bdfcaacefe835a85d05dd696c2a41736&oe=558ACFA9&__gda__=1434316492_4943e02cd72f8e22b1ecba43af9138ff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-run, looking and feeling like humans again.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I took most of the following week easy/off, doing yoga,
resting up, and trying to feel like a real person again. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, yesterday, I went out for a long run with the Tufts
Marathon Team. It was a sunshiny warm(ish) morning and I ran a slow but
successful 20 miles. It was great! I felt fine! I'm not out of shape, and may
even be in better shape than I thought! </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/t31.0-8/11021380_10205809017042005_8880674593195580880_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/t31.0-8/11021380_10205809017042005_8880674593195580880_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-20-miler happy/tired!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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So the moral of this story is that bad runs happen. To
beginner runners, experienced super-good runners, and all the people in
between. But at the end of the day, even the worst run ever is still a run to
be grateful for. And a week (or even a day) after the most terrible of the terrible can be fun and full of energy
and restore your faith in yourself and the sport. </div>
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</div>
Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-30939387956917058352015-02-25T10:54:00.002-05:002015-02-25T10:55:57.569-05:00Marathon Training in a Series of Snowstorms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5i-FJe9kkNImDWm5nK5d7UURpJdyjPzUhj-QszagWxxcIcvD02ZuXedL2MN8x09c_llqVouoYUkwe8S60oJX94k05o7Jguty-AakUNBIiTtii8OFhITQWRujnf_FYCU9LYlRPK1VqP1-/s640/blogger-image--1044316663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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Monday marked 2-months-till-Boston (and also, coincidentally, my 28th birthday!), which means that this marathon is no longer a concept of the distant future but a very real and very imminent issue that must be addressed now <i>now</i>. But addressing it means training, and training in Boston this February is at best not easy, and at worst not possible.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dUJIwP7G8Tef6J2WQhTV6nLa4WVLBs-Z5__-l-pdIT0iVAwSZowZAczh9g24UN5RPDh8AOK9ppS-ksaSIm9TufPwhWeG3_fFe0X3q2l4muLMxnmFdG9uqe5UlKcOMoodY0fYyyjRulk5/s640/blogger-image--524577320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dUJIwP7G8Tef6J2WQhTV6nLa4WVLBs-Z5__-l-pdIT0iVAwSZowZAczh9g24UN5RPDh8AOK9ppS-ksaSIm9TufPwhWeG3_fFe0X3q2l4muLMxnmFdG9uqe5UlKcOMoodY0fYyyjRulk5/s640/blogger-image--524577320.jpg" /></a></div>
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Let me set the stage for this tragic comedy of meteorological error. You
may have heard a little bit about Boston's multi-record-breaking winter this
year? (Ok good. Documenting the atrocity is part of the healing process.) Right now, as we speak, there are 4-6 feet of snow lining every sidewalk.
But "sidewalk" may be too generous of a term -- narrow ice rink?
Crunchy packed snow and ice that may at one point have been a sidewalk? Snow bank
that has not been cleared once this year? -- thus running, if pursued as an outside
activity (which it should be!), must be done almost exclusively on the roads. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YFdS-LbcLe9v-3NTkhhM6-PHGNseCb5IvGVZYAuME5unc5XgMl7JOXtirNJp77j7ycABpDSUr8ENStvyvDfE7ZIez69mVC3VLjhAKfPj-bnM4aUYNU1cEVL-mFsfylAkT6BbUmeMUyhW/s640/blogger-image-1010425588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YFdS-LbcLe9v-3NTkhhM6-PHGNseCb5IvGVZYAuME5unc5XgMl7JOXtirNJp77j7ycABpDSUr8ENStvyvDfE7ZIez69mVC3VLjhAKfPj-bnM4aUYNU1cEVL-mFsfylAkT6BbUmeMUyhW/s640/blogger-image-1010425588.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
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The problem isn't so much that it has snowed a lot. It's
that it has snowed a TON, in rapid succession, and been so Arctic-ly cold that
not one single flake has melted. </div>
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So what's a marathon-hopeful to do? IMPROVISE! </div>
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<b>First off</b>, I am taking a very flexible approach to days off
and scheduling. For example, if it snows a ton and everything is shut down
(including the gym), then looks like I'm doing abs in my living room! If it's
relatively warm on a Wednesday -- get in a long run!</div>
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The <b>next part</b> is that I am getting <i>very </i>friendly with the
treadmill. Now, just between us, I do not like the treadmill. One might even say
I hate it. But I am fostering a temporary truce with this torturous contraption
for the time being. I'm not quite up to doing a truly long run on the 'mill,
but I do have some long run-ish workouts that keep me mildly entertained. This
gem for example that adds up to 13 miles in total: warm up 3 miles, 4x1 mile
with 1 mile recovery, cool down 3 miles. </div>
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<b>Third</b> is that when I do run outside, I remember that it's
cold and that therefore I will not be running as fast (because science).
Knowing this keeps me from getting upset or frustrated or unrealistically
feeling out of shape. </div>
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<b>Finally</b>, I am SO looking forward to spring! Which at this
point I would define as above-freezing temperatures. You guys, it's going to be
amazing!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5i-FJe9kkNImDWm5nK5d7UURpJdyjPzUhj-QszagWxxcIcvD02ZuXedL2MN8x09c_llqVouoYUkwe8S60oJX94k05o7Jguty-AakUNBIiTtii8OFhITQWRujnf_FYCU9LYlRPK1VqP1-/s640/blogger-image--1044316663.jpg" /></div>
</div>
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If you're interested in more details on my workouts, you can
check my <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/p/workout-log.html" target="_blank">workout log page</a>. Also, if you would like to support me in my marathon endeavor please <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/tuftsboston2015/fundraiser/molliezapata" target="_blank">donate here</a>. Meanwhile I'll be on the treadmill...<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-20643314879502090372015-02-11T11:12:00.000-05:002015-02-11T11:12:06.677-05:00I'm running the Boston Marathon! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Oh that's right. You may have thought that I completely fell off of the running bandwagon due to the complete lack of running blog posts recently, but it's not true! I've been running a lot! And not just running, marathon training!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7q3mIuPpRniNMMK9CiE6gqp5Gen6RcKcjqKtlRyZgo1zBKtaDYO-jbyPGiykSAjWbNiHAH0I5UlUmzf42fP2o-zS9G_lzQ6eej6x5DYWdD-w-pcDpyQjunDtuWIRZYT6WfKKvDEBTF4aO/s1600/141116_15157_marathon139D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7q3mIuPpRniNMMK9CiE6gqp5Gen6RcKcjqKtlRyZgo1zBKtaDYO-jbyPGiykSAjWbNiHAH0I5UlUmzf42fP2o-zS9G_lzQ6eej6x5DYWdD-w-pcDpyQjunDtuWIRZYT6WfKKvDEBTF4aO/s1600/141116_15157_marathon139D.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Alright let's back up a bit. Last year I'd qualified for Boston, registered, and was training, well on my way to what I hoped would be a PR. But then disaster struck (of course). I got injured about a month out and was unable to race. Instead I spent my Marathon Monday on the sideline.<br />
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So this year, my last year living in Boston, I was determined to do it again and <i>this time</i> make it to the start (and finish!) line. The glitch, however, is that my BQ (Boston Qualifier) time I'd run in DC in March 2013 expired. If enthusiasm and willpower were the entry criteria I'd be in, but sadly such is not the case. So I looked to alternative options and found the perfect solution...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPC7TTnkd2RcDDalfQZRk45eFY-nsvg8-yKQ2-7HsBbFNPa3P4nUX9VeXn1mCo2_Af76fvRIxSOMcB6-oL5bLzdH1AaXHSs3uTYcMjd-Pi6LxUbfqBwP64Pdzc9ixnjih01uRkUfWfD_B/s1600/141116_15157_marathon046D+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPC7TTnkd2RcDDalfQZRk45eFY-nsvg8-yKQ2-7HsBbFNPa3P4nUX9VeXn1mCo2_Af76fvRIxSOMcB6-oL5bLzdH1AaXHSs3uTYcMjd-Pi6LxUbfqBwP64Pdzc9ixnjih01uRkUfWfD_B/s1600/141116_15157_marathon046D+(1).JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Tufts University (where I am in grad school) has an organized Marathon Team that runs for a different Tufts-related cause every year. This year all the money raised is going to the Friedman School of Nutrition to fund health research on childhood obesity. I can support that! And I can also support training for the marathon with a great group of friends. And, of course, I can fully completely 100% entirely support running the Boston Marathon! (And if <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/tuftsboston2015/fundraiser/molliezapata/setup_success/team" target="_blank">you would like to support me</a>, I would very <i>very </i>greatly and forever appreciate any donation. Thank you I love you!)<br />
<br />
So where are we today? Well, like I said, I've been running. Running in the cold. Running in the snow. Running (or slip-sliding) on the goshdarn-awful slush and ice. And when I just <i>can't </i>(69 inches in the last 30 days), running on an indoor track or treadmill.<br />
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My longest run so far is 14 miles (I blame the weather!), and my workouts have been a bit intermittent. But THE MARATHON is looming -- in 68 days as <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/tuftsboston2015/fundraiser/molliezapata" target="_blank">my page</a> dutifully reminds me -- so it's time to get motivated!<br />
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I will be blogging regularly throughout this training experience about workouts, marathoning, staying motivated, injury prevention (rule #1: make it to the start line), and very likely some epic post-long run brunches if I'm lucky.<br />
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Thank you, as always, for following, reading, and supporting me in my slightly insane sporting endeavors!<br />
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9095957039439819795.post-57159106013035178962015-01-08T18:23:00.001-05:002015-01-08T18:23:57.930-05:00Roasted Garlic, Carmelized Onion, Butternut Squash, and Eggplant Soup<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Long-time readers may recall that my friends and I dubbed
2013 <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/2013/01/weekend-report-skiing-in-tahoe.html" target="_blank">The Year to Be Brave</a>. That year we left our comfortable bubble of fun
times in DC and set off to start grad schools and new jobs and have crazy
experiences literally all over the world. Last year, 2014, we titled <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/2014/01/best-of-week-116.html" target="_blank">The Year to Be Awesome</a>. Why? Because once we'd been brave in arriving at and settling
into new places, new routines, and made new friends, it was time to excel at
the things we'd expended so much bravery to do. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkJMgKjkMr3eaklHUF1H2-ytEFZ3zQjn6WZJvbe8nXCNwqyCF4G-FAfhIDxDRhH0QYTy3Rl2IoP8Xce2U40yCY45992ZJeefwJ3iVdnCH-GFbVLKEy98YQZaafapzaKNKSXsVwtHPHGku/s1600/IMG_4527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkJMgKjkMr3eaklHUF1H2-ytEFZ3zQjn6WZJvbe8nXCNwqyCF4G-FAfhIDxDRhH0QYTy3Rl2IoP8Xce2U40yCY45992ZJeefwJ3iVdnCH-GFbVLKEy98YQZaafapzaKNKSXsVwtHPHGku/s1600/IMG_4527.jpg" height="438" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo Credit: Jon White</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And here we are again, facing the start of a new year. Grad
school -- so long and yet so short! -- is almost over, and what happens next is
anyone's guess. But since this whole little self-designed horoscope started two
years ago, we've all done a lot and learned a lot and grown a lot. And so I
christen year 2015 <b>The Year to Be Confident</b>. Because this is the year that we
remember that we are competent professionals, capable adults, and all-around
well-adapted individuals who can handle whatever 2015 has coming at us. </div>
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This leads me to my New Year's resolutions. One is to cook
(real food, not desserts) following actual recipes. See, I cook almost every
night. And I do like the food I make. But it's all variations on a theme (oh
hey <a href="http://www.eatrunread.com/2013/02/healthy-bowls-odinner.html" target="_blank">bowl-o-dinner</a>), and there are a lot of great recipes out there and cooking
techniques that I don't even know I don't know! So my goal is to cook at least
four real recipes from real cookbooks. This sounds modest, but last year my
total recipe following count was one. Just one. </div>
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But that one, from <i>Jerusalem </i>cookbook, was pretty freaking
good and I learned a new (to me) technique: burnt eggplant. It sounds like the
worst but it is the best -- basically, the eggplant skin is burnt and the
insides are roasted (but not dried out) and delicious. And it goes great in
soup! </div>
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The following recipe is does not count towards my resolution
because I made it up. But it's delicious and a great way to start off a very
cold January. All the components are slow-cooked and sweet-savory and
<i>deeelicious</i>. They're pureed with an immersion blender, but then you add barley
and beans for something to chew on and some fresh garnishes on top to brighten
things up. I served this at a dinner party with bread and salad and everyone
said they loved it. It's completely vegetarian (and easily could be vegan) and
also completely satisfying.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Roasted Garlic, Carmelized Onion, Butternut Squash, and
Eggplant Soup</h3>
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Serves 8</div>
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<i>Ingredients:</i></div>
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</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>1 large butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes</li>
<li>3 medium-sized yellow onions, thinly sliced</li>
<li>1 large eggplant</li>
<li>4-6 cups vegetable broth (or bouillon cubes)</li>
<li>1 tablespoon butter</li>
<li>1 bulb garlic</li>
<li>olive oil</li>
<li>1/4 teaspoon chili powder</li>
<li>1/4 teaspoon paprika</li>
<li>1/4 teaspoon thyme</li>
<li>salt and pepper</li>
<li>1 cup Trader Joe's 10-minute barley (or any kind, I just
like the speed of the quick-cooking kind)</li>
<li>1 large can (24 oz) white beans or chick peas, drained</li>
</ul>
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<i>Garnishes:</i></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>fresh basil, julienned</li>
<li>plain yogurt (or sour cream or crème fraiche)</li>
<li>grated cheese (sharp cheddar or mozzarella)</li>
</ul>
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<i>Directions:</i></div>
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><i>For the roasted garlic:</i> Cut the top off the head of garlic, drizzle
with olive oil, and wrap in tin foil. Roast in a 350 degrees oven for at least
an hour (I started the garlic, roasted it for an hour, then left it in the oven
while the eggplant broiled).</li>
<li><i>For the burnt eggplant:</i> Line a pan with tin foil. Stab the eggplant all around with a fork (so it doesn't explode). With the broiler on
high, broil the eggplant for 15 minutes per side, about one hour total, until
the skin is burnt and the eggplant looks deflated. Remove from the oven to cool
before you touch it.</li>
<li><i>For the carmelized onions: </i>In a medium-sized saucepan, brown
the butter over medium heat until it smells delicious (pay attention so it
doesn't burn!). Add the onions, stir, and turn the heat to low. Cook for about
an hour, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft and sweet.</li>
<li><i>For the squash:</i> Once the other components are on their way,
heat a drizzle of olive oil in a soup pot. Add cubed butternut squash and cook
over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes. Add broth to cover the
squash, bring it to a boil, then turn it to a simmer. Simmer until squash is
tender, about 15-20 minutes.</li>
<li><i>Barley: </i>Cook barley according to instructions.</li>
<li><i>Assembly</i>: Add spices to squash and broth. Scrape insides out
of the eggplant skin and add to the pot. Squeeze roasted garlic out of its husk
and add to the pot. Add in carmelized onions. Use an immersion blender, if necessary
adding more water or broth. Add beans and barley and cook for 5-10 more
minutes.</li>
<li>Serve topped with a spoonful of yogurt, a sprinkling of
basil, and cheese as desired.</li>
</ol>
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Mollie @ EatRunReadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07294106783191099234noreply@blogger.com