It was an exciting and busy summer in Delicious Coma-ville and I look forward to sharing all the good news! Up first and long overdue: the best and biggest thing to happen this summer....

New Year's Eve 2008.

I wish I had a cute food story to start this off, maybe an anecdote about my first date with Rob and how we went out for Italian food and there was parsley stuck in his front teeth the whole night and I finally said something at the end and then we kissed and nobody cared about the parsley.

But I don’t have that story. Because the first year Rob and I were involved was as messy and complicated as an inside-out triple-decker sandwich. And the two years after that, when I lived in Japan, were just as messy and complicated, but in other ways. A double-stuffed sushi roll, perhaps.

Rob and the Colonel in Kyoto, 2005.

What I’m saying -- six years after the first time we ever held hands -- is that we’ve worked hard for our love. We’ve fought for it, battled time and distance, lost friendships and a lot of sleep, to be here. Together. Happy. Really happy.

So this is the story I have for you. It starts the weekend before my birthday and it has very little to do with food, but I think you’ll like it anyway. It’s a good one.

New Year's Eve 2009.

In early spring Rob told me we were going somewhere for my birthday at the end of June, but he wouldn’t tell me where. I knew there were tickets involved, thanks to an incriminating envelope from Ticketmaster, but that was it. Only after we had loaded our bags in the car on Friday morning did he finally spill it: we were driving up to Berkeley to see Pavement that night, then driving to Big Sur the next day for dinner at Big Sur Bakery. I think I squealed. Were I tallying all the near-perfect things in this world, Stephen Malkmus’s voice and Big Sur Bakery’s desserts would certainly be on the list.

Yes, I made this for Rob.

So off we went -- sunglasses on, “Summer Babe” on the stereo -- until we reached gray, green, lovely Berkeley and the outdoor Greek Theater. A mustachioed man refused to sell us $20 event parking until we were absolutely sure there were no free street spots. We looked at each other: Berkeley! As we walked into the theater, we heard one girl say to another, “I haven’t taken a shower in three days.” Berkeley! The seats were concrete steps and the crowd was stoned, so everyone around us at some point spilled their drink all over the seat of the person in front of them, who would then passive-aggressively make a show of not being angry. Berkeley!

And then there was Pavement: that golden voice; those lackadaisical guitar solos that unfurled like a ribbon around the band, suddenly pulling everything in at the end, close and tight; those blooms of distortion rising up over the crowd, past the towering black pine trees that ringed the amphitheater, into the night sky. Write that night down on my list. Berkeley.

Look, Milhouse needs to be in here somewhere.

The next day we headed down the coast until we hit Highway 1, that winding road on the edge of the world. The overcast sky hung low over the crashing waves and yellow wildflowers bloomed on the cliffs. We drove through a quilt of green strung on a clothesline above the sea.

The sun came out. Rob turned to me. “I have an early birthday gift for you.” He reached in his bag and pulled out a CD. “I made a mix for us to listen to on this drive.” I put it on: “Bruises” by Chairlift, a good driving song. The next song started, but 30 seconds in, I heard feedback and a familiar voice. The music stopped. So did my heart.

It was Rob, on the CD. And he started talking to...Rob, the real Rob sitting next to me.

CD ROB: Hello...hello? Feedback. Hello there? Hello?

REAL ROB: Hello?

CD ROB: Is this Rob?

REAL ROB: Yeah, who’s this?

CD ROB: It’s Rob.

REAL ROB: Oh. Hi.

CD ROB: So look, I hate to interrupt this mix -- which is pretty awesome so far, by the way --

REAL ROB: Hey thanks, man.

CD ROB: It’s cool. Oh, hey, is Anjali with you?

REAL ROB: Yeah, she’s right here next to me.

CD ROB: Great. Hey, honey.

ME: Uh...hi.

REAL ROB: I don’t really appreciate you calling her “honey” --

CD ROB: There’s no time for that. Listen, Rob 2, Anjali’s pretty awesome, isn’t she?

REAL ROB: Yeah, of course.

CD ROB: So don’t you think it’s time to give her more than just a trip to go see Pavement? Which was a REALLY great idea, I’m not knocking it.

REAL ROB: What did you have in mind?

CD ROB: Well, why don’t you find a place to pull over? You can pause me, I’ll wait.

We pull over onto a lookout point, which is miraculously free of tourists. Rob stops the car and starts the CD again.

CD ROB: Okay, are you parked?

REAL ROB: Yup. Now what do I do?

CD ROB: Why don’t you look in your pocket and go from there?

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. And asked me to marry him. And I pulled off his sunglasses and my sunglasses and looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, and said, “Yes, of course.”

Yes, of course.

Right after.

The fog rolled back in as we approached the little cabin perched on the cliffs above the ocean where we would be spending the night. All we could see as we sat on the deck sipping beers and talking about our past and our present and our future was a thick blanket of gray. But the ocean was out there, we knew it. Stretching out so far, deep and full of so much. Even though we couldn’t see it, we knew it.

We’ve always known it.

Epilogue: For those in need of a little ring porn, I present his great-grandmother’s ring. She immigrated from Slovenia to New York City and Rob’s dad can’t remember her first name, but the ring is engraved with the initials “AM.” It’s perfect for me and I love it.

Chard. I took this picture in January.*

Oh, hello there.

No, I was not in a terrible accident which prevented me from updating my blog for the last 5 (!!!) months. And no, Rob was not so disgusted by his Julie Powell moment that he forbade me from ever food blogging again. My absence has a very simple and much less interesting explanation: I've gone back to school.

It was all very sudden, you see, and every time I thought, I need to update Delicious Coma, I was immediately distracted by the hundreds of anatomy flashcards I needed to memorize. No one grades you on your food blogging. Priorities were set. I apologize.

So it was all very sudden, but it was also very right, because the career I'm going back to school for combines so much that is important to me: good food, healthy living, sustainable farming, education and community involvement. I'm applying for a masters program to become a registered dietitian with a focus in community nutrition. Rather than helping those who already sick, I want to help people keep from getting sick by improving how they eat. I want to spread my love of vegetables -- the weird ones (purslane!), the ugly ones (kohlrabi!), the ones everyone is supposed the hate (beets! broccoli! kale!).

Unfortunately, a bachelors degree in film production doesn't prepare you very adequately for a masters of science degree, so I have about a year of science prerequisites to complete, core classes like physiology, organic chemistry and microbiology that I have to take while still working full-time. So you see why there is little time for blogging. Or tweeting or reading other people's blogs or attending PR dinners or even eating a dinner that isn't a bowl of Whole Foods organic soup dashed down at my desk before I leave work for a class that ends at 10 PM.

I still have pictures on my camera from March.

I can't promise the next semester will be any different, or the one after that, or the one after that. But I'm still here and I hope you'll stick around too. I think it'll be worth it.

* I was going to write a post about how much I still love the South Central Farmers' CSA boxes, especially in winter because the produce lasts for a full two weeks. But it's not winter anymore, so just take my word for it.

After several months of feeling vaguely irritated by the existence of Twitter, followed by several months of having a Twitter account and having no idea what to do with it, I have finally embraced the little blue bird. Add @deliciouscoma to follow my daily eats. Look, I even have a button!

Photo by greentea, a.k.a. andreakw.

So this is awesome. Last week I got a comment from Andrea, telling me she had made my kurogoma cupcakes with matcha-cream cheese frosting for Cupcake Camp Toronto. While news of an event attended by over 400 cupcake-crazed people is pretty fantastic in and of itself, it was trumped by a follow-up email letting me know her cupcakes had been crowned Best Flavour Combination in A Cupcake by the Food Network judges. My little cupcakes! I couldn't be more proud.

In unrelated news, I am now the food editor for Evil Monito, an LA-based online magazine and am posting over there twice a week. I've already written about foraging for citrus, squash-blossom quesadillas and the connection between eating meat and climate change. You can subscribe to all my posts here. Take a look!