Rum Raisin Oatmeal Cookies

“It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression,
'As pretty as an airport.'” ― Douglas Adams

In my many travels, airports stand to be the most polarizing form of moving from one place to another. On one hand, I find airports to be indispensable—there is no way I could have traveled as far and wide as I have without them (and for that alone I feel as if I am indebted). On the other hand, I find nothing enchanting about my time spent in an airport. People love to romanticize airports, waxing and waning over the anticipation of travel or adventure, meeting old friends or coming home to family members (and these are certainly a part of the experience), but those small moments are swept away in the 5:00 am trips through airport security and the long hours of waiting.

I'm quite certain I've never walked into an airport at a reasonable time of day. Early mornings are a common theme as I set my alarm for a cringe-inducing hour, waking several times throughout the night in a panic that I've forgotten to pack something important. Soon follow the quiet moments of hauling luggage, finding boarding passes, and removing shoes to walk through the metal detector, wondering why I specifically wore a belt on today of all days. While waiting for the airplane to begin boarding, I watch my fellow passengers find the gate, all of whom seem to be in a similar state of dry eyes and caffeine-induced disarray.

A moment spent in an airport is a moment spent in limbo. Time runs on its own accord, jumping forward and backward faster than you can keep pace. It's a place that's neither here nor there, a small plot of land unto itself. It's a place where people gather and disperse. A place no one can call home. Only on a westward flying airplane can you daydream about a cheeseburger and French fries, but arrive to Egg McMuffins and disappointment.

Airports can be romantic in fairy tales and homecoming events, but I'd argue the typical reality falls a little short. My true problem with airports is not being allowed to buy a hamburger at nine in the morning when your body is telling you it's noon.

There is a place in my heart for oatmeal and raisins. It was only a matter of time for rum to join the mix. These Rum Raisin Oatmeal Cookies have all the qualities of the classic oatmeal raisin cookie with a boozy twist. The cookie base has a dark depth of flavor (in part from the addition of molasses), but the rum-soaked raisins steal the show. The cookies bake up soft and stay tender long after their stay in the oven. These cookies are not for the kids, so please keep them out of the younger ones' hands.

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Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

I have been drawn into the Olympics this summer. Traditionally, I've always enjoyed watching the competitions and learning about (and subsequently getting into) the drama surrounding individual athletes, always rooting for Team USA. However, this time around I am faced with finals week in graduate school; while my head should be buried in books, I find my eyes glued to the television instead. It would be easier to handle if the Olympics didn't make hours of my evening mysteriously disappear, as class notes lay scattered and neglected across my lap.

I just can't miss men's swimming or women's gymnastics.

Though I do enjoy the summer Olympics, the winter games will always steal my heart. I used to be a figure skater, doing jumps and spins on the ice at the local rink. I wore the expensive skates, the sequined uniforms, and dreaded performances as my nerves would find a way to get the best of me. Now I prefer to watch the world's best instead.

Men's figure skating is my favorite event. There is so much drama surrounding so few athletes and, as I follow their competitions through the years, I'm anxious to see how they match up against one another. During the winter games two years ago, I was so excited for the events I convinced my boyfriend (who knew nothing of men's figure skating or, really, skating in general) to brush up on a few years of history between the competitors before we watched the games together. Not only did he surprise me by recognizing the skaters' skill sets, he spouted off facts and figures even I didn't know.

Perhaps that's how you know you've picked a good one.

This year I held a little get together at my apartment to watch the opening ceremony. There was spaghetti, cupcakes, and these Dark & Stormy cocktails to go around. We watched the ceremony with countless millions from all over the world, united by a common force of good. I find something magical about the Olympic's ability to bring countries and people closer together.

We toasted to the games and ourselves, as my humble living room grew to accommodate a small part of the world.

Dark & Stormy cocktails are traditionally made with dark rum and ginger beer, but I prefer the clean fizzy flavor of a good ginger ale. The cocktail is simple to prepare, with three ingredients that do not need to be blended or mixed. With a lemon twist, this cocktail manages complex flavors while staying light and bright. Contrary to its namesake, Dark & Stormy cocktails may also be enjoyed on days that are sunny and golden, when friends and family are near.

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Mai Tai & Hawaii

It's always strange coming home after a long vacation. It's the simple things that throw me off guard, making me aware of just how long I've been gone. Opening the door to the house and recognizing the scent of my home, a smell so familiar to me that I fail to notice it in my day to day happenings. It's in the act of opening the refrigerator, with no faint reminder of what lies within.

The mundane and ordinary life of mine becomes surreal to my jet-lagged mind. For a moment, I feel like I don't belong in my home. Not yet. Not while my heart is still across the sea, not ready to give up the holiday and return to reality.

I spent the last week and half in Hawaii, vacationing on Oahu's north shore. There was sand and sun, water and waves, and a tropical breeze that refused to relent as it whirled my hair around my face. It was a vacation I didn't know I needed until I waded into the cool waters of the Pacific. There were historic towns, long drives up and down the length of the island, and endless miles of beach.

My boyfriend's family invited me to come with them to his sister's destination wedding and I simply couldn't refuse.

The wedding was gorgeous. Tropical flowers, bright and blooming, and loose white linens blowing in the wind lined the arch under which the bride and groom stood. The wedding overlooked the ocean and the waves crashing over rocks became the backdrop for the scene unfolding. There were leis, tears, tender smiles, and blissful expressions that couldn't be removed from the bride and groom's faces.

I couldn't help but grab a photograph of the wedding cake. I also couldn't stop myself from eating two pieces.

I climbed a few hills, overlooking the city of Honolulu and the wide never-ending ocean. I wandered the touristy beach of Waikiki, walking hundreds of feet out into the shallow waters, trying to jump over the waves before they swept me back to shore. I went on a shark tour and was carried a few miles out to sea to jump into a shark cage, Discovery Channel style.

Never one to shy from risk and adventure, I climbed into the cage and found the metal bars were the only barrier between me and half a dozen full-grown Galapagos sharks. One came near enough to touch, as it swam only a foot beneath the cage. Did you know Galapagos sharks have brilliant yellow cat eyes? Neither did I.

I also tried my hand at surfing one particularly windy morning. Though I had never been near a surfboard before, standing up was easier than I ever expected. I caught my first wave, feeling the swell of the ocean beneath me, and held onto it as long as I dared. It was paddling back out to sea that was the hardest; more than once the surfing instructor took pity and carried me and my surfboard out when he swam back out to sea.

After swallowing a mouthful of water fighting against the waves and crashing into sharp rocks beneath the surface after falling off my board, I had enough. For those of you who surf, you have my utmost respect. It's hard.

As the sun set on the Hawaiian beaches, my thoughts always went to the food. The fish was so fresh, the pineapple so juicy, the shrimp so spicy, the shaved ice so refreshing, that it was devoured before a second thought could be given to my camera. On vacations, I think that's the way it should be. Living in the present, reveling in the small moments of the sand between your toes, the scent of the salty sea, and the feel of a cold cocktail in your hand.

There are many more stories to tell, of wild adventures and vacation mishaps, but I'll let those tales rest for now. I'll bring them out on a rainy day, when I can only dream of taking tropical vacations and leaving reality for just a moment to swim with the sea turtles.

There is quite a bit of controversy surrounding what defines an "authentic" Mai Tai, most of it revolving around orgeat syrup and the presence of fruit juices. I'll start by saying that this particular Mai Tai is nowhere near authentic, but it is reminiscent of the ones I had in Hawaii, lying under beach umbrellas and listening to the roar of the sea (and, most importantly, it can be made with ingredients lying around the house). Light and dark rum booze up pineapple and lime juice, with a hint of orange liquor to round out the sweetness.

If you find it too strong (and you may), add more pineapple juice until it suits your taste.

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