The Waffle House and Friends

Yesterday I did one of my most favorite things in the whole wide world.  I had breakfast with a friend.  I do this often.  I'm sure that some would think that this could get to be quite expensive.  But my ready reply is that it is much cheaper than a therapist or prozac.  Having these heart-to-heart sessions a few times a month with a sane female friend is good for the soul. 

We were trying to decide where to go for breakfast.  Usually, I like to try someplace new, unique or special.  If not, I will settle for one of my tried and true breakfast spots.  My friend Karen often allows me to pick the restaurant.  After tossing  a few ideas back and forth over email, Karen said we can always go to Waffle House.  When I saw the name Waffle House on my laptop screen, I must say that I was a little surprised.  You can find a Waffle House on just about every other street in metro Atlanta.   In a knee-jerk reaction, I started to rapidly reply with another suggestion.  However, I paused for a moment.  Let me think about this.

There was a time when I was very familiar with Waffle House back in the 90's when I was still twenty-something.  Waffle House was what I, and my friends, could afford at that time.  I'm not sure if I even had an awareness of any other breakfast joint.  Way back then, I remember being in Waffle House with another friend Joyce.  It was either at the end of the year or the start of a new year.  I recall Joyce saying to me Hey Kurrrrn... And she said Kurrrn instead of Karen because that is how many a black folk born and raised in the D.C. and Baltimore area or urrrea say Karen.  So Joyce said, Hey Kurrrn, let's make a New Year's resolution.  We ain't eating at no more places where our feet stick to the floor and the servers are missing teeth!  She said this while looking around Waffle House with contempt and suspicion - as if the two naturally went together.  At that point I stopped eating at the Waffle House for many years and have been back less than 5 times.

But after I got over that memory and myself and then climbed down from my high, high horse; I decided there wasn't anything wrong with going to the Waffle House for breakfast.

I initially tried to order a waffle, eggs and meat and coffee.  However, the waitress said that it was cheaper to get the All Star Breakfast which included much more and coffee for about $6.49 (not including tax).  There are various combinations of All Star specials but here's what I had:

As it is my duty, I must point out the real stars of this All Star Breakfast -the grits and the pecan waffles.  These are not gourmet grits nor are they the best grits I've had in my life.  However, I consider these to be pretty good grits.  The pecan waffle was cooked well and arrived warm and full of pecans.  At times, there were almost too many pecans for my liking.  I guess Waffle House is not affected by the soaring price of pecans.  Nevertheless, this was a tasty waffle.  Everything else was decent.  I didn't try the wheat toast as this was already a lot of food to consume. 

The service was good in terms of friendliness and getting our orders correct the first time around.  The coffee was hot and flowing which I attribute to good customer service.   One important area of customer service that was neglected was that the syrup bottle was brought to our table with syrup running down the sides.  It was dripping so much that we placed a napkin underneath it.  Karen and I looked at each other like....eeeuuuuuuwwwwww!  Karen said something like Well, we are at the Waffle House!  We shrugged and kept on eating.

Know Thy Neighbors

The strata recipe (below) comes by way of my next door neighbor, Reshma.  We live in a townhome community and our houses are joined together.   For the first few years, we would have conversations from our driveways.  Our earliest conversations were easy as we both work in the same field.  Then, gradually we got to know each other on a more personal level.  We've even compared notes on the dating situation in the ATL and agree that we might just need to get the hell on up on out of here if we wanted a real relationship or wanted to get married.

A couple of years ago, Reshma invited me over for my birthday and fixed me some of the Indian foods she grew up eating.  I raved about the food.   Reshma didn't think it was a big deal.   A couple of months ago, I was standing outside her door on my way to walk Brandi and chatting about nothing but then ended up telling her about a tribulation I was working my way through.  She fully understood.  We parted and I felt better.  I had walked almost a house length away and she called out to me Karen, I really am very sorry that you are having to go through this.  Even from that distance away, I could sense her deep concern.  I forgot my exact response but I do remember having tears in my eyes. 

For almost 6 years, we've watched our community grow.  We moved into a brand new community when some of the townhomes were still being built.  I found it strange being among the first set of settlers living amongst unfinished 3 story houses and the eery quietness.   It was nice when all of the homes were finally completed and occupied.  To this day, I remember when our community came to life with the sound of children playing in the street.  I've been here long enough to watch some of these kids graduate from high school.  And now there are still a good number of kids around, some whom we wish would grow up a little faster and quit all of that crying and hollering. 

We've been talking about getting a few neighbors together for a long time.  Well...Reshma would talk about it and I would agree that she should have something at her house.  One day Reshma sent out an invitation to her home for a Sunday brunch which included three other homeowners. We all happen to live side by side.  Nitesh and Jaimini are newlyweds and moved into the community within the last year.  Then there's Rhonda who has lived here as long as Reshma and I.  We all accepted.  It was a wonderful.  Reshma is an exceptional hostess for all of the right reasons one might expect.  She's also a great cook and that is my preference when invited over for a meal. 

She fixed breakfast strata (recipe to follow), rosemary potatoes, orange-cranberry scones (store-bought), fresh berries with vanilla, honey, and cinnamon yogurt, and vanilla almond granola.  There was also tea, coffee and OJ.

Unfortunately, the photos from the brunch did not come out very well but I thought I would include them anyway. 

Reshma’s Vegetable and Chicken Sausage Strata

(adapted from several strata recipes from food.com and Epicurious.com)

Ingredients
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 (10 ounce) package frozen chopped spinach, thawed
9 eggs
3 links of chicken sausage (no casing), diced
1 large onion, cut into 2 inch long thin strips
1 large bell pepper, cut into 2 inch long thin strips
3 1/2 cups milk
2/3 cup parmesan cheese, grated
1/4 tsp nutmeg
½ tsp cumin
1 clove garlic (finely chopped or pressed)
1/2 tsp salt
fresh ground pepper
1/2 tbs butter, softened (to grease baking dish)
Approximately one loaf of ciabatta bread
1 (6 ounce) jars marinated artichoke hearts, drained and chopped.
3 cups sharp cheddar cheese, grated

Directions:

1. Heat oil in medium skillet over medium heat.

2. Add peppers, onions, sausage and sauté until tender and onions have sweated a bit, about 6-10 minutes. Then add garlic. Press all liquid out of thawed spinach and add to skillet. Add the artichoke hearts.

3. Add nutmeg and cumin. Cook for another minute and then remove from heat.

4. Beat eggs in a large bowl until frothy and add milk, salt, pepper.

5. Grease a 13x9 baking dish with a small amount of the butter.

6. Cut bread into 1 inch cubes. (8-9 cups of cubed bread should result)

7. Layer half the bread cubes, then half the sautéed vegetable mixture, and half the cheddar cheese.

8. Repeat layers in order, ending with cheddar cheese.

9. Cover dish and refrigerate overnight. (It needs 8 hours in the refrigerator)

10. Remove from refrigerator and uncover 30 minutes prior to baking.

11. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

12. Bake for 1 hour until golden brown on top and firm in center, a knife inserted in center will come out clean.

13. Let rest 15 minutes before serving.

Black Girls Run!

Camille Cunningham
Guest Blogger
Runner

A runner is thin. A runner is lean. A runner is someone with thin textured every day washable hair. A runner is immune to cold weather. A runner is not me.

These are only a few of the misconceptions I have had about runners for 33 years. Running is not something I have ever attempted or even contemplated in my life. It is not that I didn’t struggle from overweight and obesity. Growing up in the south, I became a fan of fried foods, bad carbohydrates, and sugar in any capacity at an early age. Unhealthy eating was – is a part of my culture; isn’t it? But why?

For years I have told myself, “It’s okay to be a little thick, black men like thick women.” So, I ate a carbohydrate filled diet and at the age of 15 I was already 5 lbs overweight. By the age of 30, I had gained 65 more pounds. At 5 foot 3 inches tall, I weighed 205 lbs. Now, I can blame this on the college 15 or the extra 20 lbs of happy fat that came after marriage; but the only blame lies with me. The thing most people don’t tell you about gaining weight is that you don’t realize how big you’ve gotten until after you’ve lost the weight. When I look back at the photos of myself, I am saddened and I often wonder “How did this happen to me?”

As I examine my childhood, teenage years and adulthood I realized one thing. Running is not something I associated myself with because it is not a sport that I have seen my image represented. Runners did not live in my neighborhoods, attend my churches, or reside within my social circles. I am an African American woman; raised in an African American household in the southeastern region of the country. My parents were raised poor. Although they climbed the corporate ladder to provide a middle-class upbringing for my sister and I; their eating habits were quite similar to many African American families. Simply put, I was not exposed to healthy eating.

Today, both of my parents suffer with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or Type II diabetes. The same is true for my husband’s family; his father suffered 3 strokes in 2 months before the age of 50. Seeing my family members take pill after pill, I decided to make a change. I, like many others tried several unsuccessful fad diets. In 2009, I decided to significantly curtail my eating habits to a no carb, no sugar, and no alcohol diet. Although I lost 40 lbs in 4 months, at least 15 of those pounds came back within a year because my new eating habits were unrealistic and unsustainable. So now what?

In October 2011, Tracie, a dear friend, introduced me to Black Girls Run (BGR)! She explained that BGR had an Atlanta chapter of women that ran all over the city encouraging each other to push past their limitations and stereotypes. Honestly, when she first told me of the group I thought she was a little crazy. I mean I was no runner. What about my hair? What about the cold temperatures? Lastly, I thought “Black women don’t run – do they?!” Because Tracie was such a trusted friend of mine I decided to check it out.

I will never forget, it was Sunday, October 16 at 7:00 a.m. – the temperature was 42 degrees. Tracie drove as I sat in silence thinking “What the heck am I doing!”, “I hope they have a medic on standby”, “This is the silliest thing I’ve ever done.” We pulled into Walden Park subdivision and everything from there is still a bit hazy. But this is what I remember: I remember 116 black women in layers of clothes and bandanas. I remember jogging two steps and walking twenty. I remember seeing a girl twice my size and age pass me up a hill. And it was at that moment that I said, “Oh, heck no!”

After the run, or walk I should say, I felt mixed feelings of disappointment and determination. The disappointment came from realizing how out of shape I had become. The determination came from the seeing and feeling this huge amount of support, positivity and camaraderie from Black Girls Run. There is something about a group that is inclusive of all sizes, ages, and races of women. And there is something magical about 100+ women cheering you through the finish line each and every time.

Since joining Black Girls Run on October 16th, I have run a minimum of 13.5 to 20 miles per week. I have participated in two 5k’s (one of which I had the 2nd fastest time), have registered for one 10k, and I am in training for a half marathon in March. And, just a few days ago, I ran (not walked) 8 miles nonstop for the first time. I am now a runner for at least 3 days a week. Just running, and incorporating more fruits and vegetables in my diet has allowed me to lose over 15 lbs. in five weeks. I am only 13 pounds from my goal weight, a size 6/8. I am smaller than I have been since 1998. My husband is in awe, my friends are in wonderment, and my haters just don’t know what to do.

Today, I can proudly say thank you to support of 100+ women of the Black Girls Run Camp Creek chapter for adding years to my life. As with anything positive, I like to spread the word! If you are looking for a way to change your life, come join BGR. Since joining I have converted 8 women into runners. We don’t care about your race, age, size, or level. Once you try us, you’re hooked for life. Come get some!!!


Camille and Tracie in training for their first half marathon in March 2012



Serenbe 5K

Yesterday was the Hill Country 15 K and 5KTrail Race at Serenbe.  The Hill Country Trail Race is in it's 4th season. Serenbe is located about 32 miles south of Atlanta in Palmetto, GA.  I first heard about this beautiful piece of country from my friend Teresa who celebrated her 40th birthday here with her lady friends. Teresa  participated in the 5K last year and sent out an invitation on facebook to join her. 

I was excited to participate in my second 5K.  I was looking forward to the challenge and the experience of running in cooler weather.  My first 5K run was in June and the heat and humidity were rather formidable.  I had continued to run intermittently since the last race and  had enough time to give more focused attention to running. 

During those 41 days, I didn't give a more focused attention to running.  And in the last two weeks, I might have walked a few times.  As they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.   I could always run as much as I could and walk as needed.  I was still excited about the race.

Here's my t shirt, race number and timing chip for my shoe. 

This is what I actually wore on race day.  I came down with something evidenced by a scratchy throat, swollen glands and an achy body.  With morning temperatures below freezing and important events in the next two weeks, I was unwilling to do anything that just might send me over the edge.  

This didn't prevent me from participating in some way and supporting good 'ole Teresa.  I also wanted to visit Serenbe.  From all accounts from Teresa and friends, it seemed like my kind of place.  We met up at 6:45 am and headed to Serenbe which was about an hour away. The 5K race began at 8:15 am.

We parked in the designated location for runners and walked to the event.  It was nice to be out in the open country. 

We passed this decorated tree on the way to the course...

Porta pottyies were available.  As a new runner, I don't know enough about races and access to bathrooms.  I tend to be worried about the bathroom situation at public events.  Handwashing stations with soap, water and hand sanitizers were provided.   

There was a saxophonist who played the national anthem. 

The 5K race started closer to 8:40 a.m., 15 minutes after the 15K.

Go Teresa (#1571)...go!

The last of the runners (top of photo) headed to the trails and the others (foreground) hung out.   

 

I walked around the village and took photos.  I  met one of the residents who's been living in Serenbe for almost a year.  I wondered how in the world she ended up living in Serenbe.  She has a horse and wanted to find a place where she and the horse could be closer.  She had lived in metro Atlanta for many years. 

Before I knew it, Teresa was finished.  I couldn't get my camera phone together in time to catch her as she approached but I caught her from behind (tiny speck in the center of the photo).

Teresa finished and improved her time from last year.

We walked around afterwards and took in the sites. 

Beer and burritos were provided for all of the participants.  We weren't in the mood for either.  Instead, we enjoyed a nice breakfast at the Blue Eyed Daisy Restaurant in the village.

Sunday Get Away

Last Sunday I headed to Rome, Georgia for a reprieve and to visit Moriah.  Moriah is a sophomore in college.  When I was in my twenties, I lived with her family for about a year.  Moriah has two older sibblings and one younger sibbling.  I've known all of them since their birth.  When I was twentysomething, it never occured to me that one day I'd be visiting these same babies at college. 

I got in my car and headed north of Atlanta.  It was a beautiful and outstanding day.  I recently purchased a Garmin GPS unit because I was sick and tired of getting lost when I ventured into unknown territories. I put in the address of my location and merrily and trustingly went on my way.

Garmin told me to get off at exit 285 (I-75 North).  I went down some long and winding roads.  It was quite scenic.  Was Garmin leading me in the right direction?   Why didn't the exit sign say Rome? 

Once I saw cotton fields I knew I was going in the wrong direction.  I called Moriah.  She said, Oh Lord, Miss Karen!  I don't know where you are but we always take exit 290.   So I got back onto I-75 heading north.  I didn't need to buy a GPS unit to get lost. 

I made it to my destination.  Moriah jumped into the car and we went to get some food.  When I asked Moriah about restaurants she said, Now Miss Karen, I know you like to do the local thing but there aren't any good local restaurants in Rome.  So we ate at Chilli's and it was good.  We then headed to downtown Rome.  I wanted to check out The Old Town Clock. 

I hoped that we would be able to walk up to the top and view the city below but the doors were padlocked.

The Old Town Clock is on the National Register of Historic Places.

We hung around and took pictures.  Moriah...

 

 Me, AKA Miss Karen...



 The Fall leaves...

We left the clock, drove around and stopped here and there.  I took too many pictures to share.  Sometimes, when I paused to take another picture, Moriah said, OhLordMissKaren!  Moriah had my mouth watering about a downtown local bakery which we discovered was closed on Sundays.  From there we went to Jandy's for frozen yogurt.  That place was fun and delicious.  We also visited Berry College located on 26,000 acres - where there were many bicycles and few cars and the shiny black cattle looked relaxed and happy. 

We made it back to Moriah's campus and hung out for awhile.  I met her friends, roomate and suitemates.  She lovingly introduced me as her godmother.  I consider godchildren to be those that God has placed in your life that you are to watch over, support, pray for, mentor, guide, love and assist as they grow and develop.  I'm fortunate to be considered in that way.  We talked about everything, something and nothing.  It was a perfect day. 

TGIF (Thank God It's Fall)

Fall is my favorite season. I like everything about the Fall. The colors, the coolness and the start of the holiday season. My favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, is in the Fall. It is the one holiday where nobody really wants anything from anybody other than their love, friendship and maybe their food.

I enjoy walking in the Fall. I like the chill in the air and the crunchy sound of leaves beneath my feet. There’s this wonderful woodsy smell in the air that shows up in the Fall. I expect the alluring sweetness of the Spring vegetation. Yet, I’m still surprised that its Fall decay also provides a welcoming and pleasant aroma.

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air. - Nathaniel Hawthorne 

One of my favorite walking places is Arabia Mountain. I mean walking in a Henry David Thoreau kind of way. The trail goes on forever behind neighborhoods, into woods, alongside streams and amidst wildflowers. I’ve gone there with my walking buddy Arlene. We talk, we walk and pause to admire a flower, leaf or tree. I’m not one to walk trails alone mostly for safety reasons.  Besides, I tend to get creeped out rather easily. Alone, any of nature’s sounds trigger a sensation that something is after me -  like a Freddy Krueger or a crazed wild boar frothing at the mouth.

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day. - Henry David Thoreau 

I like the sense of transition that Fall brings. As children, my mother would send us on several trips to the basement to retrieve our Fall and Winter clothing. My mother would also take down her light and summery yellow and white kitchen curtains. I remember watching their whimsical movements against the air when the windows were open. In the Fall, their brown and white replacements were sturdy and protective against that same air.  In my own way, I do the same. I move clothes from one bedroom to another. I place a Fall wreath on the front door and just below, two planters full of mums.

Autumn - the reprieve from Summer. - Mike Garofalo

I like that things are coming to a close. I’m grateful for the seasons of life. We need things to begin. We need things to end.  And Fall is that reminder.  Thank God for the Fall.

Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile. - William Cullen Bryant 

Arabia Mountain Trail - Fall 2010

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz