With Soul…
The light waves from the Long Island Sound create a welcoming song as I settle in to read. A gentle woosh careens the waves to their crescendo as the white caps reach the shore. Next to me, a sandy Marco finds his seat, his damp tail gently spraying me as he wags it at the site of a seagull nearby. He stretches his black and white speckled paws forward and crosses them as he adjusts his ears to “perk alert” at the seagull who waddles closer.
The sun is beating down on my beginning of the summer legs (aka, pale) as sailboats rest on the horizon- the soft breeze not strong enough to help move the point of sail to the helm.
It’s a simple moment, one that cannot be easily re-created, regardless of my camera skills. (although, I have included Marco’s gentleman paws because that is a moment worth capturing- regardless of its an iPhone photo or not)
The reason this moment, written in long hand in my green leather journal, cannot be recreated is because it’s not about the view, or the waves: it’s about the sensory of it all. There is no phone service on this rocky north shore beach. West Egg, for my Gatsby fans. You wouldn’t be “wowed” by an iPhone photo nor would you even consider this a “must see destination”. It’s just a quiet few minutes spent on the beach. And yet, breathing in the salt air that is so fresh from the proximity of the shore is the most calm experience. It’s not because of the location, it’s about the simplicity of it all.
The simplicity of happiness.
We are constantly running towards an ideology of happiness. Filtering our bodies to make ourselves look “better” (to who, though? Who are we trying to impress other than ourselves anyway?). We are constantly buying things, scrolling aimlessly on Instagram seeing all these people living “big lives” thinking that we’re missing out. The reality is, those aren’t the moments that make us happy. Slimming my arms down in Facetune because I’m insecure about them won’t make me happier: recognizing that they’re strong enough to carry Marco or my camera equipment will help my mindset though, which in turn, will encourage me to work out which will help me feel stronger. Being envious of someone’s adventures on Instagram won’t make my life better: packing up my Jeep and finding a dog friendly beach to create memories will though.
What if we have happiness all wrong? After all, the definition of happiness is the state of being happy. It’s like even the dictionary can’t explain it. Happiness isn’t a definable word, really. It’s just an amalgam of moments that have mattered most to us. And, that will vary from person to person, however, I bet it’s rooted in the simplest of moments.
I take one more deep inhale as Marco sturdies himself against the tide on the shore. I whistle, he follows and we finish our 3 mile hike with an uphill walk to our truck. His paws gently tap in stride with me as the birds chirp to one another ahead. It was a simple day, but it’s one that will definitely join the amalgam of other memories that play like a reel throughout my days.
With Salt:
This weeks recipe is simple and the memory of making it this past Friday for our weekly in-house date night is part of the reel I refer to when I want to feel happiness. Full disclosure, I used truffle salt/truffle oil from Traders Joes to liven up the recipe a bit, but you definitely don’t need to so I’m substituting regular olive oil/sea salt for you.
INGREDIENTS
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 ounces Italian chicken sausage, sweet or hot,
4 cups baby spinach
1 cup shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
⅔ cup part-skim ricotta cheese
2 teaspoons Parsley
2 teaspoons Basil
1 or 2 teaspoons Red Pepper Flakes
1 teaspoon garlic powder
Freshly ground pepper to your liking (if you’re me, its a heavy pepper hand)
1 pound prepared pizza dough, preferably whole-wheat
PUT IT ALL TOGETHER
Step 1
Preheat oven to 475 degrees and coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
Step 2
Spray your skillet with olive oil (or use a tablespoon) over medium-high heat. Add sausage and cook until it’s not pink anymore. Add spinach and cook, stirring, until wilted, about 1 minute.
While all of that is cooking, grab a bowl (medium or large) and mix olive oil, ricotta, mozzarella and seasonings. When the spinach and sausage are cooked through, mix them in, too. That’s your stuffing.
Step 3
Like a true Italian, flour your counter top and roll your dough into a 6(ish) inch log and then cut that into 5 pieces. Roll out each piece into little round pizzas and place 1/2 cup of the filling on one half of the little round pizzas. Then, fold the dough over the filling and crimp the edges with a fork to seal. On top, cut a few slits to let out the steam and brush the top of the calzones with a little bit of olive oil. Repeat until all 5 are made. (as you can see in my image, it’s okay if they’re not perfect- they’re still delicious. We embrace the perfectly imperfect here)
Step 4
Bake the calzones in the lower third of the oven until browned on top, about 15 minutes. Let cool slightly before serving.