Cranberry & Gorgonzola Crostini with Balsamic Drizzle

I knew it would happen eventually. The day was going to come when I ran out of Christmas cookies. Sadly, that day came all too soon this year (or, last year, I guess…since it was 2012. Woa).

I was still on winter break when the last bits of frosting and broken crumbs disappeared. The well had dried up. I was out of cookies. Meaning I was out of breakfast. I needed a new sugar fix, and I needed it fast. I couldn’t just stop consuming unnecessary amounts of sugar first thing in the morning. I’m not a barbarian.

So, I started making cinnamon sugar toast. In massive quantities. Every day. I really and truly was going through bread at an alarming rate.  But somehow, on the day I came back to school, there was still half a loaf of whole wheat French bread sitting on the counter (because the whole wheat goodness totally makes cinnamon sugar toast a health food, it’s science). My dad wasn’t going to eat it, so I brought it back to school.

But now, in my apartment, with no cinnamon sugar shaker premixed or softened butter in a dish next to the toaster, I can’t really justify making cinnamon sugar toast for breakfast every day of the week. So I had to find something else to do with the bread. Something as equally simple and quick as cinnamon sugar toast, but a tad healthier.

Acorn Squash and Kale Risotto

I have this friend, let’s call her Peg, who doesn’t really “do” vegetables. She doesn’t buy them, rarely eats them, and certainly doesn’t cook them. She actually doesn’t really cook anything, save for microwaving the occasional Lean Cuisine Meal.

You’d think that being the complete opposite of her, I’d be less than enthused to interact with Peg, but in fact, that is not at all the case. I feel the need to take care of her, to make sure she’s getting some kind of sustenance besides blueberry bagels smothered in cream cheese. The girl loves carbs.

At least once a week, Peg picks me up and we go to the grocery store (because her fridge contains only Diet Coke and cheese cubes) so I can make dinner. While she stocks up on bagels and freezer meals, I gather up fresh produce, eggs, butter, and whatever else I’ll need to make dinner and dessert.

Back at her apartment, I start puttering around in the kitchen while she does homework at the dining room table. I know trying to get her to eat a salad or steamed cauliflower is not going to happen, so I have to get sneaky with vegetables. She informs me her mother used to try and stick vegetables in pasta and Peg, stubborn even at age 4, would spit them out on the floor and only eat the noodles. This friendship is preparing me for motherhood.

Roasted Spaghetti Squash with Caramelized Red Onions, Goat Cheese, and Toasted Walnuts

There are a few questions I don’t like being asked. “What size jeans are you?” “Did you want that with whipped cream?” “Can you give me the answer to this math problem?” Those are merely a sampling. They make me feel uncomfortable and unnecessarily stressed. I’ve carefully honed my behavior to avoid these kinds of questions (meaning I wear sweats, order Americanos, and refuse to take a math class until it is absolutely needed).

But lately, a question I can’t seem to escape is whether or not I am a vegetarian.

Growing up in Wisconsin, I didn’t encounter a whole lot of herbivores (I actually only knew one vegetarian before coming to college). Many times our family meals consisted of meat, potatoes, and more meat. Maybe some tasty biscuits from a can if we were feeling fancy.

Despite this meal plan, I managed to cultivate a strong taste for vegetables, particularly since coming to college. Raw, steamed, roasted, any way I can have them I will happily fill my plate. I include them in nearly every meal and feel very thrown off my axis if I don’t have any vegetables at all in a day. All very strange, I know.

Not all of my friends here share my outlook on, or love for, vegetables. I’ll talk about a dinner I made or order a meatless entree at a restaurant and be bombarded with a chorus of “Are you a vegetarian?”