Zucchini Chocolate Chip Muffins

Over Labor Day weekend, I spent an afternoon on my grandparent's farm. With spacious skies, fresh air, and endless fields of rolling grass, the prairie reminds me why I call it home. My grandparent's farm could come out of a children's book with the bright green tractors, dirt and ducks, and big red barn. A small garden near the house overflows with zucchini and cucumbers. The smell of bread and butter wafts from the windows of the house.

The farm is a place to escape from technology and learn to appreciate the simplicity of nature.

My sister and I love to go on "adventures" whenever we visit, exploring the land as it changes between seasons. This time we walked through a sunflower field, dancing between the plants as we weaved a path to the center of the field, the smell of plants and dirt filling the air. The bright green plants with brown flowers towered over our heads, the distinct yellow of the sunflowers fading as the seeds inside prepare themselves for the harvest. Twenty feet into the field, our entrance was completely obscured. The sunflowers appeared to go infinitely in every direction, an endless field of life and growth.

Taking a break to rest in the dry dirt, my sister and I stopped to sample the fruits of the flower's labor. The heads of the sunflowers were twice the size of my own, facing the ground instead of the sun from the sheer weight of a fruitful summer. It took two hands to lift the giant flowers up towards the sun; I never knew sunflowers could grow to be so unbelievably large.

We sampled the sunflower seeds, plucking them from the center of the flower, admiring the fuzz that surrounded each seed as if it was a ripe peach. The soft fuzz was a surprise for both of us, never imagining that sunflowers were or could be anything other than smooth. The seeds were pure white; the taste subtle. I felt a little closer to the earth that rested beneath my feet.

The rev of an engine drew us back out of the field. Hopping on a four-wheeler, we drove around the golden fields, the wind tangling my hair as we circled around hay bales, the sun peeking out behind the clouds to illuminate the golden grass. Dinnertime drew us back into the house and the scent of German cooking filled the air. We never fail to eat our fill.

At the end of the day, it's hard to leave the farm and go back to reality. I never get enough of the crisp air and piercing stars after a setting sun.

Zucchini Chocolate Chip Muffins feel like a pleasure from a simpler time. The muffins are surprisingly moist and flavorful. Even though zucchini is added to the batter, the vegetable flavor remains subtle. With the addition of cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate chips, the muffins are given the feel of a spice cake (with a bite of chocolate every now and then). A simple spread of butter is all these muffins need to make a lasting impression.

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Cherry Almond Granola

There was a heatwave this past weekend. Temperatures neared one hundred degrees and the air was as still as the calm before a storm. It was an unexpected appearance in a typically mild June. The sun and I have always had a healthy relationship, but the heat began putting a strain on it. For the better part of three days, the sun shined directly into my apartment with nary a cloud to provide blessed temporary relief. With the blinds closed and the air conditioning unit running on full blast, I managed to cool the apartment down to a balmy 90 degrees F.

This was a small improvement over the temperature of the surface of the sun.

At first, I ignored the rising temperature, pretending that is was perfectly normal to sweat while watching television. I held strong through the unbearable heat, pretending I didn't mind the sticky, humid clouds forming in my apartment. I fought the heat as I cursed the leather couch when I laid across it, too exhausted from the temperatures to pry myself off of it. I gave into the heat, running the oven to bake cookies because I couldn't imagine the oven could do more damage than the sun had already afflicted. I managed the heat with the most style and grace that I could muster.

Then, I snapped.

Ten minutes later I found myself in the refrigerated section of the local grocery store, carrying around a red basket to give the impression I was there for any reason other than to beat the heat. I reveled in the chill of the dairy aisle, staying far past my welcome as I pretended to compare butter labels to avoid pointed questions. Though I didn't intend to buy anything (I had done my grocery shopping just that morning), with the rows of yogurt directly in my vision I could scarcely think of anything other than how much I wanted to eat it—all of it—sprinkled with granola.

Some recipes are born out of love and tender growth, while others are created out of overheated desperation in the dairy aisle of a supermarket at precisely 9:23 pm on a Saturday evening.

Honestly, I don't think you can't taste the difference.

Cherry Almond Granola has varied textures and fabulous flavors that will steal your heart. Oats, almonds, and coconut flakes are sweetened with brown sugar and maple sugar before toasting in the oven. The granola is rounded out with tart dried cherries and a pinch of nutmeg which bring all of the flavors together in a unique, but delicate manner. I've experimented with several granola recipes before, but this recipe has made a little imprint on my heart. I'm in love.

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Coconut Nutmeg Pudding

The apartment lifestyle is peculiar. I'm surrounded by people, dozens of people, but we all are strangers to one another. On the rare occasion we pass in the hallway on our way to here or there, a nod of acknowledgment is often given, but seldom a word is spoken. It astounds me how it's possible to share a wall with another person for months without quite knowing who lives on the other side.

If anything, I'd like to apologize to the person who has to listen to me watch Game of Thrones well into the night hours.

My windows overlook the balconies of another apartment building. Though I may not know my own neighbors, I feel I've gotten to know a little bit about my neighbors across the way—a small peek into their lives from the view on the balcony. On the third floor, there is a tall man who steps out for a smoke each morning, mug of coffee in hand. Leaning against the railing, he blows his cigarette smoke into the wind, curiously never taking a sip of the drink he brought with him.

A man on the second floor leaves his blinds open late into the evening. Though I've never seen his face, I can see the twinkling of his television through the window as he settles into another night of watching ESPN.

A woman on the first floor fills her balcony with plants. Green leaves dangle from the ceiling, just touching the bright, beautiful flowers spilling out of planters on the floor. Each morning before the heat of the day swells in, she can be found with a watering can in hand, tending to her plants. Her garden is a lovely sight to behold. I wonder if she ever wishes her garden could grow larger, sprawling out on the apartment lawn. I know I would welcome it.

The last woman is a quiet, tender soul. With a scarf wrapped around her head, she sits outside on a blue beach chair with a book in her hands. She reads for hours, as the sun streaks across the sky, occasionally reaching for the bowl of mixed nuts that rests beside her chair. Periodically I'll join her by sitting out on my own balcony and reading. I wonder what type of books she likes to read. I wonder if she has any to recommend.

Of all of my neighbors, I feel a connection with her the most. Perhaps that's what is most important when you're living in an apartment building, surrounded by people, but living alone. Connection. Though I may never meet these people or shake their hands, the small peak into their lives makes me feel attached to them, bringing me just a little bit closer to the new place I've chosen to call home.

This Coconut Nutmeg Pudding is simple, but elegant. Made with coconut milk and thickened with cornstarch, the pudding has a silky smooth texture. A hint of nutmeg truly rounds out the coconut flavor in an unexpected, delightful manner with a topping of toasted coconut to finish off the pudding. Served warm or chilled, this pudding is comfort food at its finest.

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