Literary City Guide: Iowa City, IA

Photo by Nate Roelfs

Photo by Nate Roelfs

With a university famous for its creative writing program, Iowa City is literary tourist's dream destination. Tour guide Jennifer Brinkmeyer grew up 30 miles away, and decided to put down roots after attending the University of Iowa. 

If you're on the fence about visiting, three words: lavender blackberry muffin. (You can find these at local coffee shop The Java House.) Iowa City is also home to one of the most well-known independent bookstores in the country, located in a building that housed a literary society in the 1930s where ee cummings, Langston Hughes, and Robert Frost were three of its famous patrons.

Stop by to visit Iowa City!

To be expected

There was little time to prepare this year, but it was to be expected.

Instead of making pedicure or massage appointments, I've booked a cleaning crew and spent a recent lunch break buying semi-gloss paint from Home Depot. I've come home every night for a week and packed a single box of books from the shelf. It feels as though I will never see them again. I wanted to linger and turn through every page, but time would not allow it. 

In little more than a week, my home will be different. My windows, my kitchen, my bedroom. My job is different. My commute is different. I feel different. I'm feeling in my bones Mary Oliver's call, "joy was not made to be a crumb." How at once can you feel so much joy and gratitude, yet muscle through the difficult times? Eating dinner at 8 pm, missing yoga, spending evenings sifting through papers, sorting and sorting and sorting. Being tired, yet being inspired. It's really a wonderful mess, and by the time summer arrives, the normalcy and routine I crave will have taken root, which makes today's uncertainty entirely bearable.

For the past five years, I've kept a ritual of taking my birthday off and treating myself to an indulgent day that usually consists of waking up late, getting a pedicure, taking myself out to lunch, baking something festive, reading a book in my favorite coffee shop (or at the very least, my favorite birthday poem), followed by dinner in the evening with Andrew. With the new job and all, I'm spending this year's birthday at the office, but life is good, and I've been enjoying this special breakfast for several days now. I hope you can try it before the strawberries disappear. 

Steel Cut Oats with Balsamic-Roasted Strawberries

Strawberries, as I've mentioned before, are one of my favorite fruits, and I look forward to them every May. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've eaten fewer farm-fresh strawberries this season than I would like. Luckily, this recipe works splendidly with frozen berries, so you can enjoy it in any season.

Berries adapted from A Thought for Food

1 cup steel cut oats
2 cups whole milk or almond milk
2 cups filtered water
Pinch of salt

For the strawberries
1 10-ounce package organic frozen strawberries
1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, divided
2 teaspoons raw honey
1 teaspoon vanilla
Heavy cream, for serving

Add oats, milk, and water to a 4-quart saucepan. Bring to a boil and simmer 1 minute. Cover and leave on the stove overnight. If you're using frozen berries, this is a good time to put them in the fridge to thaw.

In the morning, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Add the berries to a baking dish and drizzle with 2 tablespoons of vinegar; toss to coat. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the liquid is syrupy.  

While the berries bake, bring the oats to a low simmer and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, or until any remaining liquid has been absorbed and the oats are creamy and tender. 

While the oats reheat, whisk together the balsamic vinegar, honey, and vanilla in a small saucepan. Boil until liquid has reduced by half and is syrupy. When the strawberries are done baking, pour the sauce over the top and give them a stir. 

Serve oatmeal with a few spoonfuls of strawberry sauce and a dash of heavy cream. Chopped nuts would also be welcome. 

 

Living With Poetry | To Minnesota and Back

Living with Poetry is an occasional series where we explore how poetry infuses our everyday lives. Catch up with past features here.

Minneapolis from the air

Last week I told you about some changes in my life, and it led me to Minnesota. I spent the last few days of April in a suburb outside Minneapolis, visiting the global headquarters of the organization I recently joined. That's right, I have a new job! (I should specify that my time in Minnesota was short term. I'll be working out of the Los Angeles office.)

Even on business trips, food is a high priority, but not being stationed in downtown Minneapolis left me with fewer exciting options to explore. At first I wrote a paragraph detailing the disappointing food I encountered, but decided to shift gears, focus on the good things, and tell you what I loved about Minnesota instead.

The Hertz car rental desk. The woman who helped me was incredibly nice and talkative, and in between asking if I wanted extra insurance or the gas package, told me about the elderly neighbor she was planning to check on after work to be sure her basement wasn't flooded from the recent rains. So sweet! 

The accents. Yes, I love them. It made me want to watch New In Town again.

My new job. This was a business trip, my first with a new organization, and it signifies a new chapter in my life I'm excited to begin. I'm still working in philanthropy, but this time at a corporate foundation, and my role involves social media, content development, and community engagement. Fun! 

A little bit of rain, a little bit of snow.

The high-tech terminal for my departing flight. There were iPads everywhere, and instead of long rows of uncomfortable chairs, sleek desks with plugs at every station. Very fancy. I had my most memorable meal here before boarding my flight back to LA, at a Parisian-tiled bistro, where I ordered and paid for my meal straight from an iPad. A lightly dressed salad accompanied by a mushroom, goat cheese and tomato jam grilled sandwich hit the spot.

Meeting Sarah. This was a highlight, as Sarah is one of my favorite bloggers. The food we shared was decidedly mediocre, but we cozied up in a corner table in my hotel's restaurant, with a view of the dimly-lit pond and fountain. It was also raining, so there was something poetic about the whole thing. We laughed about how salty the soup was and how much lime laced the guacamole. It wasn't an epic food blogger meal, but the company was what really mattered. (She also managed to snap the photo of me below.)

Despite the rain (and a little bit of snow), the trip was refreshing and inspiring. On my flight home, I started reading Reduced to Joy by Mark Nepo, a gift from a friend, and turned to the following poem, reminding me that even in the midst of change and transition, the best thing I can do is step back and listen.

On the Ridge

We can grow by simply lis- 
tening, the way the tree on 
that ridge listens its branches
to the sky, the way blood 
listens its flow to the site
of a wound, the way you 
listen like a basin when 
my head so full of grief 
can’t look you in the eye. 
We can listen our way out 
of anger, if we let the heart 
soften the wolf we keep in- 
side. We can last by listening 
deeply, the way roots reach for 
the next inch of earth, the way 
an old turtle listens all he hears 
into the pattern of his shell. 
— Mark Nepo