On the Pursuit of Something More than Happiness

From the film "Chef," starring Jon Favreau

Molly: You've been miserable here, as long as I've known you
Carl: That's not true, we've had a blast.
Molly: Yeah, we had a blast, and now it's time for you to go. You don't belong here anymore and you know it. Come on...
Molly: ...I want you to be happy. You're not happy. You're never going to be happy here.
Carl: I don't know what I'm going to do. I've never not known what I was going to do. I've always known, there's always been the next thing to do, and now that it's all ended, I'm like, I'm like, fucking lost.
Molly: I think that's a good place to start.

Before I could get into my write up about my sister's wedding in California, one of the topics my Scottish MacPhFung and I discussed kept coming up, and with this great article that was reposted, "There's More to Life than Being Happy,"I knew I had to write down my internal ramblings and jumbled thoughts before I can move on.

Pause. Read the article, and then if you still care to read my thoughts, continue.

My answer for what I wanted to be when I grew up, and what I wanted out of life was simply to be "happy." Jaded as I am now, or rather more practical, I realize that is a very stupid answer, or at least an undeveloped and an inaccurate one. I've been commended by more than one person for "following my dream" and go to culinary school. I didn't have any large obstacles to overcome to get where I am today, and while the course of my life did change, and I am infinitely happier than if I had stayed, but I have been feeling lost and unhappy again.

"What is happiness? It's a moment before you need more happiness.' - Don Draper

This article states that there is more to life to being happy. The pursuit of happiness, this unalienable right, does not actually lead to being happy. Instead, what we should be doing is reframing the search to the pursuit of meaning in life. Pursuing "happiness" is often times a long winded goose chase for a vaguely defined material object, status, or insert noun here, that never seems to have a big of a pay off at the end. I guess the grass isn't greener on the other side?

So, instead of searching for happiness instead, how about finding something in your life that gives meaning instead? Frankl gives me the words to define my dissatisfaction with my current "purpose" of my job. Don't get me wrong here. Make food still gives me great pleasure and passion. But I knew from the get go that there was more to life than spending 8 to 12 hours sweating in front of a stove, with ovens at your back. But at the moment, my greatest contribution to society and life is excess carbs and diabetes.

Here's the thing though, I'm not sure it's as easy as just deciding in a day, a week, a month, that "hey, I'm going to redefine my life to find meaning." Ok, maybe it is, but enlightenment is taking a more roundabout way of illuminating for me like a blue orb of light from a magic lighter that will lead me to my hearts' desire and ultimately help save the world (HP for life).

Bottom line? Food still gives me great joy, but it doesn't give me enduring meaning. I'm just trying to figure out how to merge it all together, be ok with the inevitable stress and downsides, such as life, but live more fulfillingly overall. Thoughts?

"Meaning is not only about transcending the self, but also about transcending the present moment -- which is perhaps the most important finding of the study, according to the researchers. While happiness is an emotion felt in the here and now, it ultimately fades away, just as all emotions do; positive affect and feelings of pleasure are fleeting. The amount of time people report feeling good or bad correlates with happiness but not at all with meaning.

Meaning, on the other hand, is enduring. It connects the past to the present to the future. "Thinking beyond the present moment, into the past or future, was a sign of the relatively meaningful but unhappy life," the researchers write. "Happiness is not generally found in contemplating the past or future." That is, people who thought more about the present were happier, but people who spent more time thinking about the future or about past struggles and sufferings felt more meaning in their lives, though they were less happy."

Carnitas with cumin aioli and pineapple pico de gallo. Because making this made me happy today. But will it make me happy tomorrow?

Four Weddings and Funeral- Montana

" Do you think not being married to me might be something you could consider doing for the rest of your life?"

I won't lie, I've never seen the movie, but after wiki-ing the plot, and that it's pre-solicitation arrest Hugh, I will add it to my nonexistent Netflix queue.

But the title aptly sums up the large events of the year attending four weddings. The year started off with a funeral, but I was unable to attend.

My first wedding of the season was that of my best friend's, in Montana, of all places. I had long waited for this day to come, years in fact, since she and I started discussing it, and I when I started my pastry training, I decided I wanted to make her wedding cake, because it would would be my own personal test of ability, not just the nerve racking practical I had to take to prove that two years in Western PA wasn't a a complete waste of time. Plus, feeding people has always been the way I show my love.

Weddings don't happen overnight. There's a lot of stress, planning, number crunching, and hair pulling to get everything to happen on one day (two days, if you're my sister, but that's the next post).

My part in the planning started a year before the actual wedding, in which Kara and I planned a whirlwind weekend to both make it back to the Bay for about 14 hours of together time so we could have a round of cake tasting, wedding dress shopping, and pupusas and beers. (I had put aside the next day for my sister and her wedding dress; what a way to spend 60 hours, let me tell you). 

Pupusas from La Bamba

Fast forward to a year later of not seeing Kara, I arrived in cold and wet Kalispell, Montana, from a muggy 90 degree summer day in Pittsburgh. We had spent the year between mailing cake samples, discussing cake designs, feasibility, logistics, with details still changing up until the week before my arrival. I packed as much of my kitchen as I could have, made sure TSA did not throw out my 8 pounds of white fondant because it looked like cocaine, and headed over to Costco with Kara to buy 16 pounds of butter, 7 dozen eggs, 10 pounds of sugar, 10 pounds of flour, and a slew of other ingredients. 

Our final products were to be: one 10" square cake at least 5 inches tall, covered in white fondant, and made to look like a Montana fire watch tower, 240 regular size cupcakes in two flavors: strawberries and cream (yellow cake with macerated strawberries, Italian buttercream), and chocolate caramel whiskey (chocolate cake with chocolate chips, with a caramel whiskey Italian buttercream). There was also going to be a surprise Kahlua cream puff tower for the rehearsal dinner. 

Let's just say that my training from the last 2 years and a lot of luck were very integral to getting everything done. I was lucky that one of the wedding guest/family friends happened to have spent some time in a kitchen and didn't flinch at using a piping bag. Coming from a professional kitchen with all its space and equipment, it's not as easy to turn over 240 cupcakes with only 4 Wilton pans and 1 Kitchen Aid. 

Day one, 11 hours, resulted in 10 cake layer baked, 180 cupcakes baked, filled, garnished, packed and delivered to the venue, which thank goodness, had space in their walk-in cooler. Well deserved drinks and food were had facing snow-capped mountains on a beautiful compound for the large bridal family (the rain from my arrival had been snow at higher altitudes and will factor in at the end of my trip).

Day two, sans hangover (not by choice): the 5 inch cake was short by an inch, the rolled fondant cracked as I tried to fondant my first square cake, the chocolate roof had the San Andreas running through it was a result of trying to make my connection Minneapolis, but here is the final result:

Montana fire watchtowers, which have special significance to the couple. The idea was that no one would think it was a cake until we removed the solid chocolate roof, and cut into it. The windows are white chocolate as well. The white base/stand was made by the couple, who are civil engineers.

I hadn't imagined that I would be locked up in a condo by myself when I traveled halfway across the country to celebrate my best friend's wedding, covered in frosting, but the view from her condo, or rather, the sound of the rushing Swan River from the balcony reminded me of the beautiful and wild land that I was itching to explore... And then the time went off, and I had to go back in and pull out the cream puffs.

I ran out of cream puffs; the intention was to hide the bottle of Wigle whiskey, that would be discovered upon eating.

The day of the wedding gave me a few hours to myself before I had to get ready. I spent it lounging on a boat on the pristine and icy Flathead Lake, on a kayak I rented from a guy on the side of road, who promptly ran out of gas as we were cruising into Flathead Lake State Park... Yay for fumes and gravity. 

Flathead Lake

I was official dress lacer, in addition to my OCD need to be the one to place the cake down on the stand, so I was there for the makeup and drinks session as well as family photo shoot. Can I just say that the first time I saw Kara in a dress was when we were forced to wear pioneer outfits at the Old Sierra Camp in the 4th grade on an overnight trip? There is an unflattering picture of us somewhere, that doesn't need to make it onto the internet. We've come a long way from those awkward girls, to be slightly less awkward young women in our late 20's... 

There was food, there was drink, there was merry, and there was dancing. Much preliminary smack talk was issued for a white water rafting trip the next day, but most importantly, my best friend got married to her (other) best friend and chosen companion for life, and I couldn't be happier for her.

Those snow capped mountains that I had be gazing at all week had started to melt, but of course, who ever thinks of that when you're rushing down a river at full speed? Well, it matters when your guide asks you who wants to have a little more fun? Well, jump on out! And then we do. Holy. Frozen. Ballls. And then I did it again. It was a 9 mile run, which normally has Class 2 rapids and takes 3 hours. We had Class 4 rapids, and finished our trip in 1.5 hours due to the glacier runoff from the snow earlier that week (perfect 70 degree weather, not a cloud in the sky for us for the wedding weekend). Pictures don't exist because water and cameras don't go together, but the drive up was gorgeous. 

Mustard fields on the way up to Glacier National Park.

And so, my best friend got married. Here's to the happy couple!

À Montréal, Part II

Apres le premiere repas, on a pris un boisson a Bar le Lab, un bar très genial, en le style du prohibition. L'atmosphere est très cool, et les barmen sont très patient. On est retourné à chez Gia très tôt parce que j'étais fatiguée, et on avait une bouteille du vin...

A vendredi, j'allais á marche Atwater, oú j'ai cherché mon petit déjeuner, et je l'ai trouvée en forme du pain, de mousse de canard, de fromage, et du saucisson. C'était comme Paris, mais avec plus des anglophones.

Baguette, saussison de bourbon et bbq, mousse de canard au porto, et fromage.

J'avais un grand temps avec mon amie; nous nous sommes promenés partout de Montréal, et nous nous arrêtons frequentment pour manger. Comme ici, une supermarche halal, avec un section juste pour les noix!!

A supermarche Adonis, rue Catherine. Regarde!!

Et le fromage aussi!

Sans doute, j'ái une grande liste avec toutes les restos que je voudrais á manger, mais, il n'y a pas suffisant temps dans la jour, oú espace dans mon estomache.

Les sandwichs du viande fumé á Schwartz's sont très célebre. On se fond dans la bouche...

un sandwiche de viande fumé

Quel domage que apres un jour epic du manger, le dîner ne marche pas. Le resto que j'ai trouvé, Au Pied du Cochon, est très célebre, et á vendredi, sans le reservation, est impossible à manger là. Donc, on a aller à Le Lab un fois plus, et La Banquise aussi.

C'etait un bon voyage á Montréal; j'ai mangé bien, j'ai passé le temps avec une bonne amie, et il est une ville très belle aussi. C'est claire que je besoin de revenir.

L'archetecture est très unique

À Montréal, Part I

À cause de commencer mon cours française à Pittsburgh, j'écris cette blog en française pour pratiquer. Et aussi, parce que j'ai visité un lieu que parle français, et je n'avais pas beaucoup de opportunité de parler là (mon amie m'a assité) et toute les Quebecois parlent anglais! 

On the account of starting French lessons in Pittsburgh, I write this post in French to practice. Also, because I visited a French speaking location, and I did not have a lot of opportunity to speak there (my friend helped me) and all the Quebecois speak English!

Ça fait trois ans depuis Gia m'a offert des desserts arabe dans le meilleur bar en Bruxelles, Délirium Café, oú une belle amité est né. (J'avais toujours pensée que si il y avait quelque person que m'a offert des bonbons en sa voiture quand j'e'tais jeune, j'aurais la entrée , et j'aurais mort.) Gia et moi parlons assez souvent (pour deux personnes qui ont connu l'autre seulment pendant 4 jours), au sujet du norriture, bien sûr! Et quand elle a démenagé à Montréal, il faut que je lui visite.

It has been three years since Gia offered me Middle Eastern desserts in the best bar in Brussels, Delirium Cafe, where a beautiful friendship was born. (I always thought that if there was a person who offered me candies from their car when I was young, I would get in, and I would be dead.) Gia and I speak fairly often (for 2 people who have known each other only 4 days) about food, of course! And when she moved to Montreal, I had to visit.

Cette année, j'ai passé toute mes jours vacances assister les mariages de ma soeur et mes amies. Je n'ai pas un vrai vacance, donc j'ai décidé que je conduirais à Montréal. 630 miles, 10.5 heures, et deux jours plus tard (j'ai condu 5.5 heures et passé le nuit à New York), j'ai arrivé à centre ville à chez Gia, et on a commencé manger et parler et boire, la base de toute bonne amité.

This year, I spent all my vacation days attending the weddings of my sister and friends. I have not had a real vacation, so I decided to drive to Montreal. 630 miles, 10.5 hours, and 2 days later, (I drove 5.5 hours and spent the night in New York), I arrived in downtown at Gia's place, and we started to eat and talk and drink, the basis of any good friendship. 

Le premier repas a été poutine, la nourriture de les dieus. C'est un grand plat de frites, sauce brun, et fromage en grains de cheddar. Avec son petit ami, on est allés à La Banquise, un resto 24 heures qui est très célebre pour sa poutine. Il y a un plat qui s'apple "La T-Rex," avec steak haché, pepperoni, bacon, et saucisse hot-dog. J'ai commandé "La B.O.M", avec bacon, oignon, et merguez. Je n'ai pas des photos parce que je la avalais toute; je mourais de faim. Je l'aimé beaucoup; les oignons ont sucrée.

The first meal was poutine, the food of the gods. It's a big plate of fries, brown sauce (gravy), and cheddar cheese curds. With her boyfriend, we went to La Banquise, a 24 hour restaurant that is famous for their poutine. There was a plate called "La T-rex," with ground beef, pepperoni, bacon, and hot-dog. I ordered "La B.O.M," with bacon, onions, and merguez (it's a spicy lamb/beef sausage from North Africa, and through migration, very common in Europe). I do not have pictures because I inhaled it all, I was starving to death. I liked it a lot, the onions were nice and sweet.

Parce que c'est post est dejà longue, je la finis ici, et je vais écrire bien tôt (et avec des photos) de la reste du ma aventure Canadienne. Les gens française, corriger, svp!

Because this post is already long, I end it here, and will write soon (with pictures) of the rest of my Canadian adventure! French people, please correct this!

The Difference Between Getting Lost and Being Lost

Inara: [to Simon] You're lost in the woods. We all are. Even the captain. The only difference is he likes it that way.

Mal: [walks in] No, the only difference is the woods are the only place I can see a clear path.

Getting lost in the woods doesn't sound like a bad idea, unless you're me, and liable to run in a low branch, open up a wound that won't kill me, but I'll be far away enough from civilization that I would. I think that is one of my biggest fears, to be like Chris McCandless and throw my middle finger up to the world and just leave so I can live off the fatta the lan' and just be. And end up dying because of my ineptitude with walking in a straight line.

But, having never be properly camping further than 50 feet from a car, and never having to take a dump in the woods, I don't think I'll be looking for my clear oath there anytime soon. 

When it comes to traveling and life, I've been lost. I've been dreaming of (and sometimes succeeding) getting lost in the world, absorbing, and seeing life not through a looking glass, but in vivid technicolor, or through smog covered lenses, depending on the city. Getting lost is easy, and enjoyable. I show up to a city, buy a map, and head towards a general direction, usually a body of water, or food. I will say this though, that traveling in the next few years and forever from now will be different with a smart phone glued to my hand. Before, I always carried my little notebook with me, filled with addresses of places I want to see, my hostel or hosts' information, and then the little business cards of where I visit, and notes, snippets of memories and thoughts of a time gone too quickly by. 

I am completely in my element, getting lost and being anonymous, an observer of splendors past, a participant in the now, and cities and sites and people leave their imprint on me as I leave bit of myself with them.

I just can't seem to apply this to real life, is all. Somewhere at the between the corner of 14 and 15 (my insomnia started at that age), and all the way to 27, I've been lost. I'm most found when I'm getting lost, but I can't seem to perpetuate this feeling. Oh, what a feeling.

So, how exactly do I find that feeling again, and harness it, and turn it into something that will show me a clear path in the woods, either out of the woods, or show me that the woods is exactly where I want to be?

On Sending Love Around the World

When I first started my cooking/baking experiments, I always had a willing audience and taste testers, ready to eat whatever I concocted. In high school, it was my coworkers who were extremely hungry musicians. I had a job working in the office of a music store on the weekend, making more money at 15 than I would all throughout college. It was my first job, and I met some very interesting characters, who were intent on teasing and embarrassing this young teenager.

Every Christmas, at least 50 or more pounds of See's Candies would come into the office, to be sent out as gifts to vendors, important customers, and of course, the employees. We each got 2 pounds, and I always chose the box of English Toffee. Between that pound of snappy sugary goodness and holiday gifts of Almond Roca, my dentist was always thrilled to see me.

In college, when I tried out a new recipe, all I had to do was post a status on my Facebook, or put as my "Away message" on AIM (wow that's a long time ago...) that there was food at my place and to come over and get it. Or, I brought it into the grazing table at the Financial Aid office, and it disappeared like it was the Bermuda Triangle.

It's a lot harder now to do such things, because my friends are few and far between here and Pittsburgh, and majority can cook and bake and do all these things on their own without needing to come see me for it. My only outlet is my roommate and her group of starving and poor graduate students.

In this case however, this batch of candies is about 8 months overdue. It is to be sent out to Japan, France, Australia, and flown home with me to California for some Canadians. Work and life seems to get in the way of major holidays, so these are no longer Christmas/holiday presents, simply care boxes, because I care! And since I can't travel to come see you, consider this my hug.

If you would like me to care for you as well, send me a message with your name and address, and if it turns out I do care for you, then you'll get added to the next round. (And if you want to take the initiative and send me presents because you care for me, I'm not going to complain and will definitely push you to the top of the list, just saying.)

English Toffee
After I brushed on the chocolate, I could hear my chef berating me for not tempering the chocolate. Ugh... way to suck at life, Kathy

Lavender Honey Soft Caramels
Individually hand rolled and wrapped, like a fine Cuban

D'écrire ou ne pas écrire?

Ça, c'est le question.

Actually, the question on your mind is what is Fernweh?

As far as Wikipedia tells me, fernweh (fern-vay? I clearly don't speak German) is the true German word to use when we usually use wanderlust. Wanderlust in German literally means desire to hike (wander = to hike), where is fernweh has no English translation, but is the opposite heimweh, which is homesickness. Fernweh would then mean farsickness.

Let that sink in for a moment.

Wanderlust has always had an alluring definition and meaning for me. To lust after something, an unbridled desire and passion to wander, to see, to soak in all that is this world. I didn't use wanderlust as the new blog title because it's been done. Literally. All the good blog titles have been taken (I really wanted "whiskey and wanderlust). Then I was led to this little gem of fernweh, and it blows lust out of the water. To be sick from longing for the other, the unknown, the world that is out there...For someone who has had many bouts of homesickness, it is the farsickness in me that propels me to pack my bag and just go... Though at this point in my life, my bank account and decades of conditioned social convention and fear is keeping me rooted down at the moment.

This blog is for me. I'm at a stagnant plateau at this current state in my life, and am having a hard time organizing my thoughts, my wants, needs, and plans for the future. So in naming a blog after two of my favorite things in the world: travel and food, I want it to force me to do more of both, so that I can write about it, and then one day, have an epiphany glow at me amidst my rambling posts, that I have figured out who I am, and what I want to do when I grow up.

Until then, please enjoy pictures of food porn, tales of getting lost in Western PA (deliberate and unintentional), and insomniatic ramblings of a late 20's confused millennial who seriously just needs to get her shit together. Also, I may be blogging in French every so often, because I don't have any homework assignments, and I need something to motivate me to practice le passé composé.

Ligonier, Pennsylvania
I love just hopping in my car and just driving. Except this time I was going to work. Still, a pretty drive.