Goucher Eats: Snacks, snacks, and more snacks

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

After sitting through a four-hour plane ride, a four-hour drive, and a couple of “et cetera” hours in

Various snacks on display in the summer sun (Photo: Kathryn Walker)

Various snacks on display in the summer sun (Photo: Kathryn Walker)

between, my first day of spring break in Utah is filled with a lot of sitting and even more snacks. “Snacks on snacks on snacks,” as one of my brothers pointed out when I sent him a picture of the contents of my backpack.  Loaded-up with snacks, I start the real adventuring/ moving part of my journey as I pull into the driveway of the lodge I am staying at.
Bouncing out of the car and itching to move, to do something with my body other than sit, I dig out my hiking boots from my suitcase and strap them on.  In five seconds, zipzipzip, they are laced up my ankles. I head outside and follow the path of the setting sun over the mountainside.  The sunlight fills and glistens over everything.  I can’t help it – I start smiling to myself. Read more of this post

Eats: The land of pasta & carbs

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

I will always, till my last dying breath, be a Carb Consumer.  I will eat endless bowls of winding noodles, savor the soft insides and warmth of a fresh baguette, dole ladles and ladles of oatmeal into a seemingly endless bowl.  Carbs equal energy, plain and simple, but have also provided me with some of my most favorite memories around the table.  The spaghetti dinners with teammates, the pancakes flipped from my grandma’s stove, the radiating warmth of the boulangers’ baguette under my arm.  Scientifically, there are reasons and nerve endings and endorphins that fuel my carb-cravings; but sentimentally, I just love eating any and all sorts of carbohydrates.
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Goucher Eats: Winter winds and warm thoughts

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

In the depths of this winter arctic tundra, I seem to have switched over to an almost entirely hot-liquid diet: hot tea, hot coffee, hot soup, hot cocoa, hot stews, hot whatever. Most recently, I even tried making “hot” ice cream by pouring some next-to-boiling coffee over top of a bowl of vanilla ice cream (spoiler alert: the ice cream melts). When the winds are a’blowin’ and my fingers freeze almost instantaneously and my nose resembles Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s, I reach for something that will transform me from a human icicle into a human capable of functioning sans shivers.
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Goucher Eats: The time capsule of a 12 year-old

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

I had quite a fair share of freaking out moments while home for Winter Break: freaking out about school, freaking out about life after school, freaking out about split ends in my hair, freaking out about finding those split ends while at school, and even occasionally, freaking out about freaking out.  Maybe it’s because I’m graduating from college in less than five months.  Or maybe because Winter Break was the most time I’ve spent at home in a long, long time.  Or maybe because access to Nutella and peanut butter was at an all-time low.  But in any case, right in the middle of this, my mom presented me with an ultimatum: “Clean your room or you can’t use the car.”  And because you can’t live in suburbia without a car, and because you can’t go calm your nerves at happy hour in suburbia without a car, I responded with a growl and stomped up to my room.

For the next three hours, I sorted through the heaps of clothes on the floor that had become my temporary laundry basket, the drawers full of “treasures” that consisted of ticket stubs and empty wine bottles, the half-finished art projects that lay scattered across my desk.  Left and right, I was tossing and stuffing tchotchkes into trashbags and liquor boxes.  With Beyonce blasting through my laptop speakers, I worked my way through years and years of accumulated junk without a pause until I came across a time capsule of sorts: an essay titled “My Future: Dreams, Wishes, and Goals By Kathryn Walker.” May 25, 2004.

10 years ago.

An artifact from my brace-face years.

Here are some of the highlights of the Dreams, Wishes, and Goals of my 12 year-old self:

1. The one that made me actually laugh-out-loud: Triple major in English, Asian studies, and Forensic Science.

2. The ones that have actually come true: To travel the world and go to France and the United Kingdom; get a tan without burning myself.

3. The one that made me roll my eyes back into my head: Maybe be valedictorian??????????

4. The one that is too strange to comprehend: Develop a Bostonian accent.

5. The one that made me feel like I was having a conversation with my 12-year old self: Retire to a tropical place that has really good food (beach included).

6. The ones that are ironic and comical and have very slim odds of ever happening: That all the Philadelphia sports teams win national championships and that I go to all the parades. 

7. The ones that made me fairly impressed with my past aspirations: Create a way to help people NOT pollute the environment.

8. The ones that are basically impossible now: Get an endorsement deal with Nike as a star of the US Women’s National Soccer team. 

9. The ones that I’m still chasing after: To travel the world – All of Asia, Russia, Spain, South Africa; learn how to surf.

10. The one that only my 12 year-old self would have ever thought possible: Eat all the good food in the world while being a world renowned author, first Lady President, and a resident of Maine.

And then the conclusion: What will happen if they don’t come true?

Well Future Self, if they’re not coming true, you better get a move on.  

It’s funny to see how all along food, travel, and adventure have fascinated me.  A sign perhaps, for future Post-Goucher Endeavors? Maybe, who knows.  But in any case, here’s to not freaking out anymore, baking roughly five million cookies, graduating college with pizazz and gusto, and then taking some advice from my 12 year-old self: learn how to surf (and maybe learn a lot more along the way).

Goucher Eats: Feasts and families

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

WATCH OUT! TURKEY COMING THROUGH!”  my mom bellows.  I dart quickly to the side, missing the fire-hot turkey by mere inches as I make my way to the table.
“MASHED POTATOES! PIPING HOT!” my dad yells from the other direction, forcing me to leap back across the room.
“Ok! I – gahhh!”
“KHAK – CATCH!” my brother Matt calls out, tossing a wad of napkins across the table, hitting me squarely in the face.
Welcome to Thanksgiving, Walker style.
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