Things I Know For Sure Now That I'm 42

In my four-plus decades on this planet, I have learned, or perhaps more accurately realized and assimilated, more in the past 24 months than in the sum of the previous 480.

These realizations range from profound to just plain silly and what follows is a by-no-means-complete list in no particular order:

• There is no greater or more powerful path to REAL Freedom than complete surrender to Truth. The process for me hasn't been pretty, easy, instantaneous or anything less than excruciating, but the payoff has truly been life-changing. "The Truth Shall Set You Free" may be a cliché ... that doesn't make it any less accurate. The thing about secrets is, you don't realize how heavy they are until you have none. What sweet relief!


• Miracles happen. Every day. Everywhere. You've just got to be willing to see them for what they are and stop using limiting, cyinical words like "coincidence," "accident," and "fluke." God loves us and wants to surprise us with happy things like any loving parent does. This morning He surprised me with two, very appreciated gifts: My children slept until nearly 10:00 (which NEVER happens) AND a "bouquet" of daisies that just appeared in our pasture this morning, right outside my kitchen window. These are the ONLY daisies in our pasture. Two acres of weeds and grass, never one daisy and precisely on June 20th... Boom. Like I said. Little miracles.


• When he puts his mind to it, my husband is an excellent cook! This morning he got inspired to make me strawberry crepes for my birthday... and he knocked it out of the park! I'm quite certain that if he ever got truly turned on to the idea, he would outstrip my culinary abilities in a heartbeat. While I await that glorious day, however, I will just enjoy his momentary gourmet outbursts and my current reign as primary house chef.





• Crepes are an absolutely outstanding way to serve fresh strawberries!

• And when you run out of crepes, they're really awesome on left over strawberry dumpling noodles, too.

• My children are two of the most Spiritually aware and powerful people I know.

• I LOVE to mow the lawn! (As long as I'm using our riding mower.)

• I enjoy doing stuff in the yard a whole lot more than I ever thought I would and am now a little obsessed with landscaping, plants and the outside of the house in general.

• There is nothing on this earth that can overpower the fierce beauty of Grace.
Definition:
Grace: 1. (in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.
2. My youngest daughter.
Take your pick, they are both truly AMAZING.

• I am certain, no matter how old they get, my children will never outgrow their passion for dirt.



• My oh-so-fragile preemie, first-born has blossomed into a vibrant, resilient, generous, brilliant young woman who embodies genuine love and intense gentleness. Anna can smell God in the approach of a rain cloud, see Him in the emerging chartreuse hues of Spring's first tender shoots and respects every creature and being as unique and precious... from potato bug to toddler.

• My husband is a study in unknown depths. Just when I'm certain I know all there is to him he'll surprise me with some insightful observation, unexpected wisdom, or tender expression that takes my breath away. I am beyond grateful that I had the unparalleled honor and privilege to marry him twice!

• I have never been more contented or truly joyful in my life and there is no place or time I would rather live than here and now and no other person I would rather be than me.

• To say I am "fortunate" is an understatement of Biblical proportions... fact is... looking at my life and the Grace, Love, Abundance and Blessing that define it, I'm convinced I'm God's favorite! :D


Happy June 20th, Y'all!

A Bowl Full of Memories

Good morning, Folks!

I realized last night, much to my chagrin, that it has been a full seven months since I last posted. Good grief! Life is BIG, people!

Facebook has a small part to play, I suppose, but I'm back with a subject that is so worthy of telling the world that I just had to break my unintentional blog silence...

IT'S STRAWBERRY SEASON IN OREGON!!!

Wondrous and amazing as that fact is all on its own, two other things related to this subject fill me with rapturous glee: 1) this year's crop of our own homegrown strawberries is very nearly perfect... and 2) they are so bountiful, I have enough to make STRAWBERRY DUMPLINGS!!!

These luscious, seasonal gems from my childhood are so far from the usual strawberry fare that they cause a very specific chain reaction of sensations when I eat them... the sum of which is, I am rendered helpless to look in any direction but into the bowl of creamy, chewy, not-too-sweet goodness and bob around in the memory-laden cream... eight years old, hearing my Grannee call from the kitchen, "Who's ready for another one?!"

All arms shoot up in the air... even those with bowls still half full of pink, milky loveliness.

My Grannee got the recipe from my Grandad's mother who was a German raised in Russia but had lived in the states long enough to have English-speaking children. This gave rise to lots of interesting pronunciations of foods that are neither truly German nor Russian making it nearly impossible to actually look up a recipe. I have played with both languages a little bit and have decided that the name Great Grandma called them, "Strobensclays," (spelled phonetically) is most likely a mixture of English and German because the Russian translation of Strawberry Dumpling doesn't sound anything like the word she used and is definitely not appetizing. The German word is "Erdbeerekloss," which if you try to smash "strawberry" into the front of it, and say it quickly to a mob of ravenous American kids in a heavy Russian/German accent, could come out sounding like "Strobensclass..." That's what I'm thinking, anyway. Maybe it was her own secret language. Who knows?

So, all this verbosity on my family history is to say that last night I made Strawberry Dumplings for the first time in years, for the first time ever with homegrown berries, for the first time ever for my kids... so that was a pretty big deal for me.

Anna picked, trimmed and cut all the berries which was a HUGE help!


I don't have a written recipe... I just remember what I saw Grannee do and what they tasted like so I have had to cobble together my own imprecise recipe.

For the strawberry filling, I used about two pints of berries for a small batch. Just enough for dessert. When Grannee made them, these golden packets of love were most often consumed as the main evening meal and required five to six times these proportions.

So, to the berries I added about a third of a cup of sugar.

Traditionally, crackers or bread crumbs are crushed up and mixed with the berries. I'm guessing this is to make the berries go further and well, the saltiness tastes really good with the sweet berries. I didn't have enough crackers OR breadcrumbs so I just made sourdough toast and buttered it, let it cool, cut it up into small-ish chunks and set it aside.

For the dough I used a standard Betty Crocker Egg Noodle recipe:

2 cups flour
3 egg yolks
1 egg
2 tsp. salt
1/4 to 1/2 cup water

(Here is where I use a food processor)
Measure flour into bowl, add egg yolks, whole egg and salt. Process until egg mixes thoroughly into the flour. Add water one tablespoon at a time mixing thoroughly after each addition but mix only until the dough forms a ball.

Kneed a couple of turns by hand just to bring it together, check the consistency and to feel like you actually participated in making the dough, then let it rest under a dish towel for about 10 minutes.

Roll dough into a rectangle about 1/8" thick (you don't want it too thin or it will pop when you boil it) and cut into squares.


Back to the strawberries...
Mix crackers/crumbs/toast into the strawberries and place a spoonful in the center of each square of noodle dough.

Pinch the tips of squares together and seal up the edges to make little packets. Try to keep the edges as clean as you can to avoid a bad seal.


Drop the finished packets into boiling water.

Fish them out when they start to float. This takes five minutes or less.



Drain and place cooked dumpling in a bowl and drizzle with heavy cream and melted butter.
Great Grandma used to top with buttered croutons also, but I don't remember Grannee doing it very often and I prefer to put more emphasis on the berries.

Top with fresh berries or uncooked filling for color and a layer of brightness in flavor.

A very important note to make here is that, personally, Grannee thought it was a SIN to boil a fresh Oregon strawberry and while she would make dumplings for everyone else, when it came her turn to eat (after everyone else had been fed, of course) she would boil the noodle dough scraps and top them with the uncooked berry mixture... thus preserving the color and texture of the fresh berries and averting strawberry abuse.


I swear to you, these little beauties are worth every ounce of effort they take and I have never met a soul who didn't say "OH, WOW!" upon their first bite.

As for me and mine... strawberry season just isn't long enough!

Enjoy 'em while they're here, Y'all!!

Snapshot of a bloggers absence

Yep. I've been MIA.

No, I haven't been trapped under anything heavy... except my life.

My life isn't "heavy" like a burden, there's just a LOT in it.

Like your favorite purse... it can be a lot to lug around, but you wouldn't DREAM of being without it or anything it contains!

So, since my last post of actual significance which was... hmmmm... let's see... August 16th! Agh! Shameful! Since then, a lot has transpired and I just haven't had the organization of thought to make it all presentable in a palatable manner. As a result... I am resorting to a list.

Disclaimer:
Due to the fact of linear thinking and a chaotic mind being mutually exclusive, this list is most certainly NOT in chronological order:

• On August 21st, Princess gave birth to our newest heifer: Rosalina. She's ADORABLE and is a constant source of smiles and general amusement. (No. I don't have a picture yet. BAD cow mom! I'll post one when I can get her to hold still long enough to snap a shot.) This brings our herd back up to four ladies. If Sparky doesn't throw a bull calf in February when she's due, we may have to resort to buying our beef. Yes, I know it's possible to "freeze" females... I just can't do it. I'm weird. I know. No shock there.

• We are now down to four cats. On October 24, we had to put down our oldest kitty, Houdini, aka: "Old Pet." It was difficult, but better for everyone in the long run. He was 15.

No, I won't be changing the name of the blog to Fabulous Four Cat Ranch. Lucky Seven it will remain because... well... I'm confused enough and it rolls off the tongue so nicely.

• I'm now buying our coffee beans green and (thanks to the tutelage of Lisa B.!) roasting them myself. It's fun, economical and STUPIDLY easy! I may have to do a tutorial post. If you only knew... You'd kick yourself. James has even gotten into helping out with the roasting from time to time. Purely due to his innate brilliance and good judgment he has become quite the roast master himself with virtually no help from me.

• Also, thanks to Lisa B., I am learning to make my own soap! It's so cool. She has these brilliant formulas she has devised herself and has kindly taught me how to prepare them. Chemistry is so cool! Don't be expecting a tutorial on soap making though as this is top secret, proprietary stuff and if I tell you how to do it, she'll have to kill me. If you would like to experience the loveliness and quality of Lisa's hand made soaps you can purchase them at her Etsy shop. Go there now! Christmas is coming, people!!

• Other ongoing projects: making my own pot cheese and Kombuch Tea. Both YUMMY and fun... though the whole Kombucha culture/mushroom/SCOBY thing vexes James. Yea, it's a little creepy looking while it's brewing, but it's SO GOOD and cheap to make as opposed to buying it. Example: At Whole Foods you can buy what I think is about a 12 oz bottle for around $2. I can make two gallons of the stuff for HALF THAT! Uh huh. That's what I'm sayin'.

• Since October 6th we have been making dinner for twelve every Monday and will continue to until at least the end of the year. Due to completely unfathomable and overwhelming circumstances, our Pastors' family has blossomed from four to eight... six of whom are teenagers. That's a pretty expensive endeavor on ministers' incomes, ya gotta admit. So, when the opportunity presented itself for us to contribute in the form of a dinner once a week, we jumped on it. Really, it's fun for us and such a blessing to get to do something so helpful for people who do so much for us. They are SO appreciative it makes us want to do even more. If only we could.

• We had yet another epic battle with the Tar Weed this year. Yuck! There is no magic bullet for this menace of Biblical proportions. It feels SO GOOD when we can finally mow it down in the Fall.

If anyone has advice for how to safely wipe this stuff out for good, please SPEAK UP!








• Anna got her Red Belt in Tae Kwon Do! So, yes, that does mean I travel with my own personal body guard. Don't let the sweet smile and angelic demeanor fool you...

If you're a board, she's lethal.

Lumber trembles at the sound of her name.

She has never missed a board break.

Her kihaps are a thing of fierce beauty. The stuff of legend around the dojo.

I'm glad she's on MY side!

Go, A-Bomb!!


• James had fun painting my hair for Halloween. We even thought briefly about doing something similar the next time I got my hair colored for real but wisely reasoned that much more than a week past October 31st it would cease to look cool and fun. Rather, I would take on the appearance of a soccer mom trying to pass as a rock star. Not pretty.

I stuck with the tried and true color combo and will keep my rock star fantasy safely confined to the shower.


• Under the heading of "Sometimes 'too good to be true' Really ISN'T" or: "God is totally mind-blowingly generous!" we found ourselves the fortunate recipients of a FREE SPA!!

Yes, you read correctly.

F-R-E-E

S-P-A

To make a VERY long story short... Our church owns a house that had a spa behind it that had to be removed or the insurance company wouldn't cover them.

In the weekly email mail bulletin, buried in the middle was a message that basically said, "if you want it, come get it and it's gotta be gone before the first week of November is up."

Well, as you can well imagine, we were all over that one like syrup on a pancake. We were the first to respond, thanks to the fact that I'm in front of my computer most of the day, and gave the spa a happy new home.

After investing in professional moving services (can you say 700 lbs!) and a small fortune in electrical wiring, breaker and a replaced power relay, it's up and running! Of course we had to shell out some cash to get it set up and working, but we would've had to do that even if we bought a brand new one so we're ecstatic... as are all of our parents' aching backs... :)

Gratitude? We're SOAKING IN IT!!


Well, folks, you are now officially up-to-speed on the dizzying swirl of excitement that is my blissful little life. :) Hope you're all well and happy out there in the blogosphere!

Cheers, Y'all!

While you're waiting...

I thought I would take this opportunity to introduce you to my favorite new small kitchen appliance... the Cuisinart electric ice cream maker!!

This thing is PERFECTION!

It doesn't require ice so it's not very messy.

It isn't self-refrigerating so it's not an electricity hog, nor is it insanely expensive.

It is super easy to clean with only three parts that are simple to hand wash.

It makes ice cream in about 30 minutes once you assemble the ingredients!!

I LOVE THIS MACHINE!!

I have already made simple vanilla and a vanilla bean ice cream that requires making custard first but is phenomenal! In a recent outburst of brazen culinary self confidence and ingenuity I even made a dairy-free chocolate ice cream with coconut milk that was so good I may never eat regular chocolate ice cream again!

I once had an ice cream freezer attachment for my old (smaller) KitchenAid mixer and it was very disappointing. All the cold escaped from the sides and top and the results were mediocre at best. This machine has the freezer bowl completely surrounded and insulated so it stays really cold. I throw a towel over the plastic top to help retain what little escapes there but the freezy part stays super cold through the whole process. It remains so supremely chilled in fact that I've had the water I'm washing it out with freeze!

For $50 at Costco... WELL worth the investment! Of course if you get this little beauty, homemade ice cream becomes so easy and fun that you might find yourself in need of another investment... a gym membership.

Willpower to the people, Y'all!

Peas, out!

A Late, Late Mother's Day Report

Yes, Angelina, I will be keeping the hat. We've had adventures together and now I can't bear to part with it. I knew you would especially appreciate a picture of me wearing it in a boat... drinking wine and eating chocolate... and, yes, even fishing... poorly.

Last Saturday, my wonderful family took me out to Camp Tilikum for a belated Mother's Day outing. Since *The* Mother's Day was spent honoring *our* moms, I was more than happy to wait for my day.

James did an excellent job of planning the whole thing and keeping it a secret from me. I *never* get to be surprised... being the mom and generally pretty observant, it's nearly impossible to keep me from figuring out what's going on, even when I don't want to know.

I had an idea of what he had in store for me, but nothing definite and certainly didn't know any details... and I loved it!

He packed a bag full of loveliness including wine, cheeses, bread, soda, water, ham and, of course, chocolate which we ate in a canoe while fishing in the lake! Well, Anna actually fished. I did my very best impression of a person who has been fishing maybe once in her life and slashed at the air with my pole while the fished mocked me openly.

Anna caught five fish.

All I had to show for my efforts was a lopsided sunburn on my right arm.

She was in her glory!

It was an amazing outing that was immediately followed by a trip to the Cameo to see Prince Caspian and dinner. A better day I cannot imagine. Very well worth the wait.

Thank you so much, my Darlings. I am so very Blessed.

Sick and Wrong

I thought the Vosges Bacon chocolate bar was "pushing the envelope" but still within the quirky confines of "acceptable."

This, um, well... I think the envelope just exploded.

For those of you for whom bacon is it's very own food group... and you know who you are... you can find this, er... bold confection at Marini's in Santa Cruz...

Or save yourself the airfare and just fry up your favorite nitrite-laden porcine product and dip it in a molten slurry of salvaged, half-eaten Easter candy.

Now if you'll excuse me, having merely looked at that picture, I must go squeegee my arteries.

Peas-out, Y'all.

One more good reason to AVOID PACKAGED FOODS!

Photo found on Flickr

Here's another gem for the "Sneaky Blue Food" category that came in my nearly-daily Mercola newsletter this morning.

Is this ever a Hot Button for me. Read on and protect yourselves dear Friends...


If you pick up a can of soup and find that the sodium levels are lower than you expected, or that a food item advertises it has “less sugar” or “no MSG” ... then there may be cause for alarm.

A relatively young company, Senomyx, may be responsible for the sodium and sugar levels falling in various grocery store items. They may be putting chemicals into your food right now, without telling you and without you even realizing. Under the law, they don’t have to.

Senomyx has contracted with Kraft, Nestle, Coca Cola, and Campbell Soup to put a chemical in foods that masks bitter flavors by turning off bitter flavor receptors on your tongue. The companies can then reduce sugar and sodium levels by approximately half without affecting the flavor.

All of the companies declined to identify which foods and beverages the chemical additives have been or will be added to. These chemical compounds are not required to be listed separately on food labels; they are grouped into the general category of "artificial flavors."

Senomyx was able to obtain FDA approval and a “generally recognized as safe” classification from the Flavor and Extract Manufacturers Association in less than a year and a half, based on a safety study of rats conducted for just 3 months.

Food items that are most likely to contain these new chemicals include soups, juices (fruit and vegetable), ice cream and sauces.
"We are helping companies clean up their labels," said Kent Snyder, chief executive of Senomyx.

Mark Zoller, Senomyx's chief scientist, says that his company has used the human genome sequence and identified hundreds of taste receptors. Senomyx's chemical compounds enhance those receptors to heighten the taste of salt or sugar. Under this premise, they go on to claim that their newly added chemicals are completely safe because they will be used in tiny quantities of less than one part per million whereas artificial sweeteners are used in 200-500 parts per million. This fact alone allows them to forgo the rigorous FDA approval process when introducing new food additives into the marketplace. Attaining the status of GRAS (generally recognized as safe) from the Flavor and Extract Manufacturers Association for their most advanced product that replaces MSG, took this fledgling company less than an 18 month time frame by introducing a safety study of rats conducted for 3 months.

Executive Director of the Center for Science in the Public Interest, Michael Jacobson, commended Senomyx's strides to reduce MSG, salt, and sugar but warned against introducing a new chemical additive into the food supply without strenuous testing. "A three-month study is completely inadequate," he said. "What you want is at least a two-year study on several species of animals."

After pouring a total of 30 million dollars into research and development, the companies that have invested into Senomyx's products have been secretive, to say the least, about their involvement within the company. Some, like Kraft, have declined to divulge any specifics regarding their relationship with Senomyx but instead stated that Kraft was committed "to reducing the sugar and salt levels in many products."

Nestle and Coca Cola declined to comment. I think silence says it all.

References:

(http://www.senomyx.com/collaborations/)

(http://www.corpwatch.org/article.php?id=12053)

((http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/06/busin...)

((http://www.mindfully.org/GE/2005/Senomy...)

((http://www.ucsf.edu/synapse/content/200...)

Beer... Me... Yes.

Try though I might, I have never been able to like beer. I WANT to like it, but that particular acquisition of taste has perpetually eluded me.

Hefeweizen has always been the closest thing to an enjoyable beer I have encountered, except for perhaps McMenamins Ruby Ale... a lovely, sweet and *girly* raspberry brew, but one can only get Ruby at McMenamins' fine establishments. *sigh*

While I may like a few sips of Hefeweizen, I could never be counted on to down a whole bottle.

I appreciate completely the culinary merits of certain food pairings. In fact, I can never eat pizza without *wanting* a beer to go with it but have never been able to complete the transaction.

This is me trying to enjoy some Widmer Hefeweizen at
Zippy's Pizza in Yamhill. Photographic proof that beer will NOT make you more attractive unless someone ELSE is drinking it... what a train wreck!

On Wednesday night we made fajitas for dinner and, like pizza, fajitas SCREAM to be served with beer. James cracked open a Pyramid Hefeweizen he had bought to try and gave me a sip...

Oh. My. Goodness.

Creamy.

Rich.

Silky smooth...

No bitterness.

No aftertaste.

Just a mouthful of unfiltered loveliness that begged me to have another.

The taste of it was unlike anything I had tried before.

I couldn't get those fajitas made fast enough.

I raced to the table and enjoyed every single sip and bite. Completely astonished at this miraculous new development.


I finished off both fajitas and the entire bottle of malted goodness... then I took a nap.

Cheryle, Angelina, and others of you who have known and experienced my beer-averse frustration, I hope this day I have made you proud.

Cheers, Y'all and Happy Friday!

Confessions of a weak, WEAK woman

I have mentioned in past posts how I can resist candy and junk food all day long, but when it comes to baked goods I am rendered helpless.

Well, yesterday, my random act of kindness backfired and has come back to bite me square in the fanny... literally.

I decided James needed a treat so I called around Mac to find someplace that would deliver cookies to his office. I managed to find a florist who knows of a place that makes the best frosted cookies ever and can deliver them before lunch! Everything is working out perfectly so far. He feels all warm and fuzzy AND he'll gain weight and I WON'T! (insert maniacal laugh track here.)

The cookies arrive, he calls and thanks me profusely, to which my natural reaction is to ask, "So, how are they? What are the like?"

This is where the trouble starts.

"Oh, they're GREAT! They're the size of a DESSERT PLATE and SLATHERED IN FROSTING!!! They're SOFT and CHEWY and CRISPY on the edges and ONE just about put me OVER THE EDGE so I decided to share them with the office."

To which my dainty reply was, "DUDE!! You had better bring some home to me if you ever want me to send you cookies again!!"

And so he did.

Damn... er... bless him.

He brought home two. More perfect examples of superior bakery issue I have never seen.

I was entranced. The textures. The flavors. The quintessential pairing with ice-cold milk so fresh it was mooing that morning... NIRVANA!

I am powerless in the face of such forces.


I

ate

one

whole

cookie

on

the

spot.

So then I said to myself, "the only thing as good as the cold milk combo would be that of said ambrosia with, say, the perfect cup of coffee... and mere hours prior I just happened to procure nearly a pound of Organic Sumatra Gayo Mountain roasted only yesterday!

But, wait! I should save that cookie for the girls...

...though they don't even know it's there so they won't miss it..."

Oh, how the battle raged. But I did manage to get some sleep.


This morning, James brought me my coffee in bed. Wow! This new level of service is unprecedented and he better be careful with such indulgent behavior because I spoil faster than shellfish in July.

So, I go padding out to the kitchen, coffee in hand and what jumps out at me from behind the wine rack? Why, that dastardly cookie, of course!

After roughly .85 seconds of grappling, it was bisected and half was meandering blissfully down my esophagus, awash in cream-laden java. Ahhhhhh.

That... was... PERFECTION! But that's IT!

I have recently lost very nearly 30 pounds. Though involuntary and not a program I would recommend, still, I needed to be rid of the weight and plan to TRY to keep it off with exercise now that my appetite has returned, much to my chagrin.

Afternoon arrived, and along with it, lunchtime.

I had a pretty reasonable meal... half of a leftover chicken breast, rice and broccoli. Yippee for me!

As I'm taking my plate to the kitchen a quick whiff of freshly roasted coffee teases my right nostril.

I steel myself against it and press on to the sink.


I remind myself that the very complicated coffee maker would need to be completely dismantled, cleaned out and reassembled to make ONE STINKING CUP OF COFFEE only to have to repeat the whole process once again for the morning brew.

Way too much trouble for a single cup of afternoon joe.

Then, I turn to walk across the kitchen and my eyes fall on the other half of the morning's transgression... and my mind darts nimbly to FRENCH PRESS!!


One cup of coffee is a cinch in a plunger pot and if I get that blasted second half of cookie out of my life then I can move on and get back to focusing on carrot sticks and Yoga... Right?


Ok. I'm done.

It's gone.

I'm safe now.


When will that florist call me back and tell me where I can get MORE?!!! I can't stop thinking about THAT DAMNED COOKIE!!


Ahem.


Ok. I'm off to the kitchen to get more carrots. Yoga starts in four hours and fifteen minutes and I have some serious karmic reparations to make.

Ohm... There is no cookie... Ohm... There is no cookie... Ohm... There is no cookie...

Random Tidbits

Not that I need someone to get sick to make soup, but it is somehow more rewarding when a little girl with a sore throat requests it specifically. Poor Anna. Then, her dad was so insistent that said soup should be accompanied by warm, homemade bread he volunteered to help me make it all... DEAL! (You will NEVER catch me refusing help in the kitchen.)

Thanks to the culinary support, we were able to crank out some beautiful chicken soup which was fortified with the mashed potatoes and gravy from the previous night's roast chicken dinner. The gravy makes it sooooooo rich. YUM!!!

Also, I managed to make bread that didn't break my KitchenAid. So there's that. I didn't let it bake quite long enough though (it SMELLED done) so it's on the doughy side, but hey, the fam' loved it. Besides, what kid doesn't love doughy bread... look at Wonderbread's squeeze-it-and-it reverts-back-into-a-ball-of-dough popularity!

We even accomplished all this wonderfulness in record time... From cold, empty pots at 2:45 to hot soup-and-bready goodness at 6:30. Woo Hoo!


On a completely unrelated note... I also want to give a quick shout out to Bethany, Anna and Grace's beloved former piano teacher who came out from Utah for her baby shower last weekend. It was such a joy to spend time with her. Though certainly not the most satisfying visit, since we had to share her with, what, 25 or so other gals who were also excited to see her pregnant self, it is always glorious just to bask in her sweetness and light... even from across a crowded room.

Her tiny tummy belies the fact that her darling bundle is due at the end of next month and all moms-to-be should exude such grace and peace as she.

Bethany, I miss you so much and will be praying hard that Seth lands one of those Portland positions so we can get you back in the neighborhood. It would be so lovely to have time together just to visit and enjoy each other's company without you rushing off to your next student.

I can't wait to meet Baby Tippin whenever he or she arrives! (Go May 1!) I know you and Seth will be outstanding parents.

Peace, Y'all.

Walking In Your Footsteps...

...and trying not to trip in your very big shoes.

I would never dream of flattering myself by believing I could ever take my Grandmother's place in this world since her departure from it. However, since she left us about a year and a half ago, there are certain things that I feel compelled to do, have strong feelings about or have experienced that have the very distinctive "Esther Rueck" brand upon them. I sense her presence in a very tangible way when I do these things. It feels very right and like a natural progression for me to attempt to emulate her in their practice. As though the "torch has been passed." (This feeling is not diminished by the fact that I am her namesake, Esther being my middle name.)

Aside from when I'm brushing my teeth, a time when I am most aware of her is when I bake bread. Gran and I had sooo very many conversations about baking, but we never really got to do it together when I was old enough to actually know a little about what I was doing. We did lots of theorizing and comparing notes verbally though. So now since her departure, it doesn't matter what kind of bread I'm making, she's there with me.

That being said, you might imagine how much it meant to me when, upon pulling the new coffee maker my folks gave us from its box, I noticed an old yellow recipe card laying face down in the bottom of it. Since the box had never been opened, for a split second I thought Grannee had been up to her tricks again and miraculously dropped it in there for me to find... Upon an excited call to my mom, however, I learned that she had been startled to discover Grannee's Rye Bread recipe in an old canister she was about to give away... *gasp!* that was close! ... and had wedged it under the lid of the box as a surprise.

She may as well have sent me a Portkey* to my Grannee's kitchen. I was giddy with excitement, but wanted to wait until I could give my full attention and focused intention on making this special, magical recipe for which my Grandmother was renowned. It was like no other bread you could get anywhere. Grandad always said it was better than cake... and he was right.

This bread was something much more than the sum of its ingredients. For her, it was a meditation. A profound demonstration of love for her family and guests... and you could taste it. We begged for this bread. No one ever felt the least bit gypped if they got it for Christmas in stead of some *thing*.

Everything that left her hands was completely imbued with love and intention. To both of my Grandparents, if anything was worth doing it was worth doing well and she had refined this basic human nourishment and item of sacrament to an art form... and the rest of us have never been able to duplicate it to her level of mastery.

It was her own special kind of magic.

This time, when I set out to make my attempt at Her Rye Bread, it wasn't with a recipe dictated over the phone and written in distracted haste, but with her very own card. Written in her own elegant hand. There are no instructions, just measurements of ingredients, temperature and cooking time. This card served only to jog her memory of the details of a process she could do in her sleep... and often did once she became too frail to wrangle heavy, awkward dough.

When she wrote this recipe down, her penmanship was still pristine, not ravaged by age and weariness. She was vibrant and brimming with passion, generosity and grace. I could feel her vivacity resonate as I carefully held this precious artifact as I read it, intense thoughts of her washing over me as I assembled the ingredients. I felt her standing right next to me and she was as excited as I was that we were *finally* getting to bake together. I couldn't stop myself from smiling and even let a little laugh escape my lips at how much fun we were having, the two of us.

As I prepared the dough, I could hear in my head little comments she had made to me over the years about how the dough should look or the fact that it's pretty sticky. I made only the tiniest adjustments based on my particular circumstances. Alterations with which I felt she would agree. Though there is no way I would ever make notations on the recipe card. I'll keep those notes in my head for now.

I was so excited to give my little family a taste of Grannee's Rye Bread and every aspect of what that means. Yes, it's amazing in flavor and texture, very nutritious and its aroma is what I think Heaven must smell like, but mostly what I want them to taste is my intention, my meditation of love and the same blessing that Grannee put into everything she fed us.

The bread I made doesn't taste *exactly* like Grannee's but it's very, very close. I have only my hands, pans and slightly different ingredients to work with so, I guess it's becoming My Rye Bread now... but I will always bake it (and enjoy that first, warm heal) with Grannee.



* For you non-Harry Potter readers: a Portkey is an enchanted object, often a piece of supposedly worthless junk, which when touched will transport a person to a preprogrammed location.

Grilled Cheese Gets an Upgrade

Grilled Cheese Mania has descended upon my household since the minute the fresh bread cooled enough to slice it.

Grace not only requested it for breakfast today, but also the minute she got home from school... and again before she was done eating her lunch! (I talked her into something else instead of a third one, however... I have real concerns about *plumbing*... in every imaginable sense of the word, should she consume much more Tillamook Cheddar.)

She made that humble, cheesy comfort food favorite look so good, I decided to have one myself, but my desire leaned toward something a bit more... um... interesting. To my crispy, buttery, toasted perfection I added the roasted tomatoes from a couple of posts ago, some thinly-sliced zucchini, lightly salted and sprinkled with fresh-ground pepper. Served alongside a salad of fresh mixed greens, walnuts and balsamic vinaigrette it almost made me forget how much fat and carbohydrates I was foisting upon my unsuspecting vascular system.

Awe, who am I kidding. My arteries have been with me for forty years now. I'm sure I could eat a wheel of brie the size of a tractor tire and my body wouldn't be remotely surprised...

... though that doesn't mean it wouldn't retaliate against any gross assault on my part.

I get too crazy with the bread or the cheese and my mortal coil will waste no time slapping me with a massive headache, just to remind me who's really in charge here.

That's my life on the edge folks... walking the fine line between just enough baked goods and fine dairy products to sate my highly-evolved palate and cowering in pain, shunning the smallest shaft of light like a vampire with a hangover.

Yes, that's me. Angeleen, Culinary Daredevil.

It's Bread and Soup Weather!

"Daddy, what smells so good?!"

"That's homemade bread, Anna. Homemade bread!"

"Yea!!!"

This is half the reason I roast a chicken, people.


(head swings around to me, wide-eyed and breathless)
"Mommy, what's for dinner?"

"Chicken noodle soup and bread."

"*gasp!* Yea!!!!!"

My mixer arrived almost two weeks ago but I haven't had a chance to put 'er through the paces until yesterday. Man, the wait was *killing* me! Just didn't have time or the right stuff, but I finally made it happen and everyone I live with sure is happy about it.

Anna is big on dipping her slab of buttery, yeastified goodness into the soup. Grace regards this as disgusting even to watch. Anna just rolls her eyes and shakes her head at her sister's immature culinary preferences.

The girls were totally stoked to have toasted cheese sandwiches for breakfast this morning... and I was totally stoked to clean up their scraps. Toasted cheese crusts and coffee... mmmmm!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go let out the waistband and fanny of my favorite jeans to make room for the continued carbohydrate onslaught.

Toast 'em if ya got 'em.

Desiccated and Delectable

Before

After 4.5 hours at 325°.
(Sorry about the flash on the white plate. It was unavoidable, but *yikes!*)

If it seems to you like that many fresh tomatoes should make a lot more roasted ones than are shown resting on the blinding-white plate, you would be right! These babies are so dang tasty we can't leave 'em alone and have already demolished about half of the finished product. Now that's gooooood.

Many thanks to Lisa E. for the recipe and Angelina for posting it along with lovely pictures that I found overwhelmingly inspiring. They used some beautiful Beefsteak or some other big, fat slicing tomatoes. I had only small specimens, though being at their ripe and juicy best, the flavor is absolutely astounding! I wish I had roasted a bushel of those little sweeties!

Next year, my Darlings, next year...

My Moss is Perking Up

Ahhhhh... the sweet, glorious rain has returned in earnest.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a good sunny day as much as the next gal, but the heat of Summer holds no true pleasure for me much past 80°. Pool or no pool.

I despise sweating.

There's a saying that goes, "You can tell a Native Oregonian by the moss on our backs and the webs between our toes."

Umbrella? Please.

I think I do own one, but I can't even tell you where it is. No, rain is for washing the earth and my face in splashy droplets of liquid sky.

Replenish.

Refresh.

Drink it in and feel my roots bore deeper into mother earth, secretly feasting on her hidden goodness that only well-watered tapping tendrils may seek out.

When it rains, the harder the better mind you, my truest self awakens and I feel alive and somehow relaxed. In my element.

Bake bread.

Make pot roast. Chicken and dumplings.

Read by a crackling fire while a torrent pounds and the wind howls past my chimney-top underscoring that I am safe and warm and well-fed.

Makes me more keenly aware of so many blessings overlooked when all is calm, dry and quiet.


Rain reminds me that I live in a place where things want to grow. Things I can eat and feed my family.

Growing things love rain.

Children are growing things.

My children love the rain...

... but, not as much as they love mud.

THIS is What!*

*See previous post.

Gotta LOVE the refurb thing.

Hopefully stepping up to professional-grade will prevent future unpleasant surprises!

That's 575 watts of raw power, Baby! This one can take a good spankin' which is a very good thing when I'M at the controls!

And it's so preeeeeeetty... mmmmmmmm... Brushed *Nickel Pearl body... yummy... and *gasp!* look at all the stainless steel attachments...!



um... *ahem* ...um...


Sorry.

Kitchen porn.


Smoke 'em if ya got 'em.

*EDIT: When I originally posted this, I had remembered the color wrong. It's nickel pearl, not "pearlized nickel." So, Risa, you might want to edit your new mantra.

Now What?

Shit.

Dubious Distinction

Here's a quick Monday morning poll for you:

How many people can say they have made bread dough so tough...

... it BROKE A KITCHENAID!??

Well, I can.

Shocked and amazed I was. Didn't know it was even *possible*. Stripped its poor little gears clear to oblivion.

I'm not sure it's something to be proud of, per se, but it is something.

What I *am* proud of though, is when this stunning event occurred, I was half way through making two batches of bread dough (trying to remedy my under-liquifying, actually) for a big family gathering (more to come on this shortly). I made the second batch entirely by hand. It turned out perfect and wasn't nearly as difficult as I had imagined... having never made an un-Aided loaf of bread in my life.

Now, where the blue blazes am I gonna get this beast fixed? Is there even such thing as KitchenAid repair? Given their reputation for being indestructible I'm forced to wonder.

Yes, I will get it fixed, perfect bread dough or not. I mean, the handmade stuff was great, but when it comes to bread, I'd rather spend my time eating it than kneading it. Though, it is very good therapy, I don't think my life is frustrating enough to toss out the mixer just yet.

In the immortal words of Homer Simpson, "DOH!"