And taste as heavenly.
Every now and then I fall hopelessly in love. I’ve tumbled hard for a spider, a redbird who chirps relentlessly when I forget to fill his feeder and a squishy pair of flip flops. (The latter being a painful subject having found one recently in my pup’s mouth.)
The morning's haul.
My children have been gone all week. It’s been odd. (Will leave that onion to peel in another post.)
With all this free time on my hands, after prying myself out of bed in the morning, I get in the garden and poke around.
Here are the goodies I found yesterday.
I took all those green beans — pole beans, snap beans, whatever you call them — stringed ‘em, snapped ‘em and put them in the crock pot with a bit of water, salt, bacon and the extra special ingredient, a good sprinkling of sugar.
Cooked them till they were good and mushy as all southern veggies are supposed to be.
This was done at the suggestion of Michelle as she healed my torn-up backside the day before. During a most wonderful massage at the hands of Michelle, we talked of our gardens. She mentioned fixing up a bunch of beans in the crock pot (she didn’t add sugar, that was my addition). Her husband and mother LOVED them, but when she tried them…Eeww! Michelle didn’t like them — at all.
“They didn’t taste like canned green beans, did they?”
“No ma’am, they sure didn’t.”
I got it. There is something so very comforting about canned greens beans. Opening a can of green beans, sniffing that wonderful scent, transports me to school lunches on plastic green trays (with four compartments) at Audubon Elementary.
Makes me happy.
But so does the taste of pole beans stewing in their own juice, salt and bit of bacon all afternoon.
Yum. When those beans have come out of your very own garden ~ that’s just plain good eating.
And rather surprising for me. In fact, the whole gardening, cooking thing is quite miraculous where I’m concerned. Not that I’m complaining being the recipient of a minor miracle, especially one that tastes so good.
I vowed to prepare my clan healthy meals.
Looking over the selection of boneless, skinless chicken breasts, I wondered… since when do they fill them with gold pellets?
But thankfully the nice man in the Ingles meat department pointed me to some that were on sale. I bought two packs. Googling “easy chicken recipes”, I found a great one on a web site with “mom” in the title. (The title of the web site not the recipe.)
I bought all four ingredients. And was ready to cook. Then life got in the way and the chicken sat in the fridge — for two days.
Did I say our puppy ran into a car on Monday night?
No. I haven’t blogged that our dog was hit because it was traumatic. I am into denying any drama that might try to navigate into my life these days.
Pulling up to our house 8 p.m. on Monday night, I see my husband carrying the dog.
“Tebow’s been hit. I think his leg is broken.”
Life’s funny. You are so tired and holding it together. Then your daughter disobeys and takes the dog into a neighbor’s yard to visit with their dog — takes Tebow off his lease. Then the other dog chases Tebow across his rightful territory into a car being backed out my our dear animal-loving neighbor.
Collision.
That’s when I arrived on the scene and we made an appointment to go to a emergency animal clinic. Then our wonderful vet called.
He asked me lots of questions,
“Is he alert?”
“No, I think I’m going into shock. Should I wrap myself in blankets?”
”The dog? Is he alert?”
“Oh. His tail is flopping all over the place like normal. He still has that stupid grin. But looks like he had a mini stroke on his left front leg.”
The more we talked I could tell that our Tebow probably just got his bell rung by some Kentucky defensive end. The next morning, I hobbled more leaving bed than he did getting out of his crate.
“Labs are tough,” the vet had said.
His little tummy was puny four days later, so the vet suggested I feed him chicken and rice. There was a reason I bought that chicken.
It’s always something in life. Dogs running into cars.
I’m glad labs are tough.
No. I’m glad the Lord made labs tough so I don’t have to be.
.
Dear Father forgive me…for I have sinned.
Okay.
Not Catholic. Don’t know if that is correct confessional address. Doesn’t matter.
I sinned.
Okay, could use present tense. But this is not about sin. It is about confessing. Reading Merrill’s blog post. “Now that I have your ATTENTION” http://justmerrill.com/?p=730 ,
I enjoyed how this self-proclaimed “YaYa” made it through Lent alcohol free and grew in relationship with God.
Giving up chips and dessert, I broke faster and in more ways than my piggy bank. Do your children know where you keep your share change? — UGH. Some years with Lent are good — some not so much. This year was dreadful.
I’d eat three chocolate eggs — unnerving how good those “artificial” chocolate ones are — and refresh my vows. Recommitting at noon, I’d grab a handle up chips when hunger struck at 4:34 p.m.
Wondering why this year caving with no shame came as easy as stripping the foil off a Reese’s egg…I don’t want to sound whinny.
But, I was tired. When tired and busy, it is hard for me to stick with stupid rules.
Stupid rules?
Aha. The real reason I wasn’t able to fulfill my Lenten pledge. Not slowing down or shutting out chatter to experience a circumcision of the heart. Without it, Lenten fasts are nothing more than silly rules to lose weight or break bad habits. God couldn’t care less.
Nothing sinks in washing over a rock. To be changed, my heart needs to be as Spongebob taking a long stroll on the streets of Bikini Bottom after a day at Sandy’s without wearing his waterbubble.
God cares about our heart. Period.
So I started my own spiritual journey — and set a time period. A plan between me and God. Slowing down for a moment.
Did anyone have better luck with their Lenten fasts? I hope so… or hope you experienced what I am searching for — a soggy heart.
Okay, and a little more sleep. Sorry, somedays I just whine.
The first official night of Intercession break deserved a celebration.
Some-mores!
This is also a very good way to get the children to pick up all the sticks that litter the yard.
I sent them off with the Radio Flyer wagon, and they came back with loads of sticks.
We started a fire and WOW those little dry sticks became a huge conflagration.
Don’t tell anyone ~ but I started scanning the back for the hose just to make sure it was close. But soon enough, the flames settled down and into the perfect marshmallow roasting fire.
Some-mores for dinner! What a great way to start a school springtime break.
Later in the evening my 6 year-old said, “Mommy, don’t ever give us some-mores for dinner again. I need something more for dinner.”
Alright then, Mother-of-the-Year plummeting into a Twitter #momfail moment.
Actually, that’s a most fitting way for a week off of school with the children to start.
Happy Intercession.
Joe cooks.
Now this is not some hip-mutation of Joe “rocks”. He really does like to cook. He dreams up recipes. None of which could ever work ~ yet. But he loves to be at one with the kitchen.
So yesterday, I spied these.
I think they're dead.
But I knew they weren’t dead. They were just very ripe and pure sugar.
So we went to work.
1 3/4 cups flour
2/3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 to 3 mashed ripe bananas
Mashed bananas, not potatoes.
1/3 cup shortening, butter or margarine
2 tablespoons milk
2 eggs
1/4 cups chopped nuts
In bowl combine 1 cup of flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add mashed banana, shortening (butter or margarine) and milk. Beat with mixer on low till blended, then on high for 2 minutes. Add eggs and remaining flour; beat till blended.
Pour batter into a greased loaf pan. Bake at 350 for 55 to 60 minutes or until the center of bread passes the old toothpick test. Cool for 10 minutes. Remove bread from pan and let cool completely.
Now we never let the bread cool completely. For pity’s sake, why do that?
Joe and I sliced that warm bread and slathered buttered on it. So after some flour and sugar and an hour in the oven, those black bananas turned into this…
Boo-ti-full!
Now that’s a Romans 12:2 transformation.
What is your favorite bread and recipe? Happy Sunday and Happy Baking.
Food Fight. Did you think of John Belushi? I would have too until the events of a rainy, gray Saturday that called for curling up in front of the fire with hot chocolate.
Ash Wednesday.
A day that the church historically marks the start of Lent. The 40 day (excluding Sundays) period up till Easter. Most know that it is tradition to give up something in a fast for Lent. Most of my life I have given up sweets. That was the case today. Though at approximately 7:10 this morning, I licked the knife that I used to cut my son’s syrupy pancake. My lips touched sugar…
Then remembered. Argh.
I don’t think that counts. It was the first day. I also give up chips. For I eat chips way, way too much. There is nothing good about them for your body; I need to purge my body of that evil.
So I had a Fat Tuesday for chips at the local Mexican restaurant.
My husband was dining on steaks with his men’s bible study. My oldest feigned illness at home. My daughter seeing a friend and her mother sat at another table ~ for she is way to social and I am way too boring. So it was just me, Joe ~ my kindergartner ~ and chips and salsa.
I was so happy.
Until Joe kept taking a billion pictures…
He was taken with the lights over the tables.
After a ton of picture of the light and of me doing every little odd thing, I demanded the phone back.
Okay ~ if you could tell ~ my plate is clean. This is because I have already scraped its contents into a to-go box. See black blob on left of plate. The remains of my dinner which was consumed 2 minutes after we returned home by the son who stayed home with a stomach ache.
That is not cheese dip on my finger.
I emailed this picture to my husband (who hates Mexican) and said “Wish you were here.” He wondered if it was cheese dip. Nope, it is not. It is just an enraged pointer finger that can’t get a 6 year-old to mind his mother in a very public forum.
So this is Ash Wednesday, no sweets and no chips. Guess I need a little more spiritual introspection than that. I am going through the book of Romans and very early this morning, I started the 12th Chapter.
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern waht is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:1-2.
While reading that early this morning while the puppy was straining to reach the cats perched up high, it dawned on me. That is my Lenten theme.
Give up sweets, give up chips and be transformed. I am all up for transformation. To live above the world (and how very, very cold and windy it continues to be).
So that is my mission the next 40 days. Are you doing anything to sync spiritually or abstaining from anything this Lent?
Okay ~ the cat is making demon sounds from hell and the puppy is trying to make friends again, so I must go. Later on…
Cookies.
You know some words just look wrong.Cookies is that way for me. It needs another “e”. Cookiees.
No, that’s not good either. Makes me think of Monkees as in the 60s rock group, not species.
This year my family couldn’t squeeze cutout cookies into our Christmas experience. So this past week, my children and I made Valentine cutouts.
It was perfect! I bought one large heart cookie cutter and a miracle happened. My children somewhat patiently passed the cutter betwixt them.
We put sprinkles on some and iced some others.
Lots of teachers at the Primary and Elementary school got cookies. And one special friend of my daughter’s got one in a red box with a red bow.
I broke lots of cookies into pieces and ate lots. I felt better about this because I had broken them first into smaller pieces rather than eating one large heart at once.
I also put Cookies and Cream ice cream on a bit of cookie. That was the best.
So if you are looking for a great weekend activity with your kids ~ one that will make you want to tear your hair out.
Here’s how.
Cookie dough.
1/3 cup butter or margarine
1/3 cup shortening
2 cups flour
1 egg
3/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon baking powder
dash salt
Beat butter and shortening with mixer on high 30 seconds. Add half the flour, egg, sugar, milk, baking powder, vanilla and salt. Beat till throughly combined. Beat in remaining flour. Divide dough in half. Cover and chill 3 hours.
Roll out dough with tons of flour. Cut into your hearts. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with colored sugar or bake undecorated to frost later. Cook at 375 for 7 to 8 minutes till bottoms very lightly browned. When cool…frost
Icing.
This was more than plenty. You might want to half this recipe. But since I am horrible with math — I just made the whole thing.
3 egg whites. (Children fascinated with separating egg. My daughter asked to eat the yolk. I refused.)
3 cups powdered sugar.
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar. (This tastes even worse than baking soda. I expected something more like tartar sauce.)
Food Coloring.
I managed to talk them into the basic Valentine colors. White, pink and red rather than green and blue.
Then they went to work.
You know the best thing about this family craft/cooking moment. I didn’t even flinch that these cookies looked about as far from those on the cover of Woman’s Day as if we were going to don bathing suits and swim outside tomorrow.
Miraculously, I didn’t care. My children were having the best time. Sometimes, if you are only seconds away from ripping out every last strand of your hair, but your children are having a great time ~ that somehow makes it okay. If you in no way understand that last statement, you probably haven’t experienced parenthood. That’s okay too.
These cookies are pretty dang good. Especially if you put a little ice cream on them.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Looks like someone was sampling icing before dry. UGH!
Cookie Dough recipe from a falling apart Better Homes New Cookbook. Icing from falling apart McCall’s Comprehensive Cookbook.
The books are surely falling apart from age rather than use. Guess that’s the way the cookbook crumbles.
Happy, Happy Thanksgiving.
Hope you are having a wonderful holiday with family, friends and all those you love (or at least those with whom you have to be civil for 3 hours once a year.) No. This is the time of year to give of ourselves and open our eyes to the best in everyone ~ even those who might rub us a bit wrong.
And a good time to be honest about our faults.
Number one for me…I need a little maturing in the kitchen.
Thanks to all of you who took the time to share recipes. I have printed them all and made an oath to try each one out and share on this blog…(though not by tomorrow).
Deborah Montella won the side of cornbread dressing most generously donate by Madison’s own Ye Olde Colonial. Those of you not from Madison looking for some great Southern cooking just drive to the square and look for the sign. You can’t miss it.
Deborah is a writer friend I met through a UGA Harriette Austin Writer’s Conference. I haven’t landed a agent yet from the conference, but have made two wonderful friends each year I attended…both who are now working with agents on their projects. What can I say? I seek out attractive, talented, fun women at these things hoping their talent will rub off on me. Deborah asked me to donate her hard earned dish to someone who might be in need of a side item tomorrow. I quickly thought of someone.
Me.
But no, thank goodness there is plenty of food to go on our table this year, and I did come up with someone who was very grateful to add that dressing to their all-give-thanks meal.
So now I’ve got to run look through my race packet. Don’t want to leave it till last minute like usual. Almost missed the start last year.
Here’s wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving…
And with my recipe post last week through Nancy Wall’s comment I learned about another great web site … with loads of recipes to share: Necy’s Kitchen.
Nancy Wall and her husband grew up in Madison though they don’t live here at present. Her father, Woodrow Neal, was once principal of Madison Elementary. How cool is that? Her recipe blog is loaded with 40 years of her best recipes. YAY! Nancy’s blog…
Necy’s Kitchen. “I am the bread of life.”
