NTI Broke Me, So Now I Want Chickens.

I don’t know when it happened exactly, but at some point during NTI day 578,296, something inside me popped. One minute, I was giving feedback on assignments, and the next, I was sipping my coffee, deep in the trenches of Pinterest, scrolling through pictures of someone’s immaculate and, totally not hard to recreate at all of course, sun-drenched homestead. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a exhausted mom and teacher trying to survive another NTI day—I was a future farm queen, barefoot in a linen dress, collecting eggs in a charming little basket as the rays shined down on my sun-kissed cheeks.

Because…let’s be honest, have you seen egg prices lately? I’ve become quickly convinced the only reasonable course of action is to start my own backyard miniature raptor army. Cute little hens, pecking around in a pristine, always-clean, never-smelly coop. (read: delusional — just let me have this.) And if I have chickens, I might as well go all in, right? Which is how I arrived at Margarita. No, not the drink (though I deserve one). I mean the cow I now must own. Because if I have chickens, why stop there? I need fresh milk for my cafecito and homemade butter for all the bread I’m apparently going to bake now. And if I have a cow, it only makes sense to add a few goats (for, uh, cheese purposes), a thriving vegetable garden, and maybe even a sourdough starter named Sergio (ooh, la, la!). At this point, I’m practically an off-the-grid homesteading guru.

Now, obviously, I don’t know the first thing about farm life. I barely keep houseplants alive. And yet, here I am, suddenly overcome with the urge to trade in my lesson plans for a life of milking cows at dawn and collecting eggs in a rustic basket. This is clearly stuck inside, NTI-induced madness. But instead of acting on my impulse and buying 3 new goats (for now), I’ve decided to channel this energy into something slightly more reasonable: bread. (like I mentioned, earlier)

Because if I’m going to pretend to be a homesteader, I need to start somewhere. And that’s how I ended up with flour in my hair after aggressively TikTok-ing different bread recipes. I’ve made loaves that could double as bricks and rolls with literally zero flavor. But it’s all in a day’s work because the bread I really want to master? Conchas.

I married into a Mexican family, I teach Spanish, I drink coffee like it’s my job—yet I’ve never made conchas? Sweet, soft, and topped with that crackly sugar crust—conchas are the ultimate comfort bread. They’re perfect for dipping in coffee, which means they’re necessary for my survival. My Mexican husband (who is a chef, by the way) could probably help, but let’s be real, I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to tell her how to bake. This is my battle.

So now I’m facing my greatest challenge yet: conquering conchas without fear, without hesitation, and hopefully without burning the house down. And if all else fails… I guess I’ll just go get the chickens after all.

📩 Let’s Connect! Send me your delicious concha recipes (and all the good vibes!)