I've been a little neglectful of late. Blame the holidays, blame my own battle with ennui, I can offer no real excuse. My head & my heart are here, my ambition fled. But I'm back, and hopefully 2015 will prove to be a better, more consistent year. I'll even provide a double header today just because. OK, I confess I intended to write up the "bonus" recipe last week, but the post-Christmas blahs knocked the legs out from under me. It's been a busy and emotional couple of weeks.
Monday morning Emily pulled out her cookbooks and found a couple of recipes she wanted to try; Silver Dollar Sausage Patties and Ginger-spiced Carrot Soup. I had no desire to go to the store (we we low on carrots) so I rummaged through the deep freeze and found a package of ground chicken. The recipe actually called for ground turkey, but hey, poultry is poultry. Unfortunately by the time we got home Monday evening it was late and I decreed it to be a "whatever's in the fridge" night. Spending an extra hour having coffee with my friend is more important than a proper meal sometimes. Scratch that. MOST times...if not all the time. Cup of Soup & grilled cheese sandwiches saved the day, and Emily's cooking night was quietly shifted to Tuesday as school holidays mean her Tuesday night activities are also on hiatus.
It was just as well she was on kitchen duty. I spent most of the day on the couch, feeling like a horse had kicked me in the chest and had no appetite or desire to cook. It would have been another grilled cheese night. Anyway....
Emily was somewhat disappointed that I had thawed out chicken instead of getting her the soup ingredients, but dove in with enthusiasm when I assured her we could do the soup next week.
She unwrapped the ground chicken and put it in a mixing bowl while I peeled 3 cloves of garlic for her. She had a little trouble with the garlic press, her hands aren't quite strong enough yet, so I helped with that and found the cumin for her.
Stirring the mixture together was something of a challenge until I suggested she don a pair of latex gloves. (I would have just dove in bare hands, but....) I have a box of the gloves that I bought so save my hands when I made jalapeño poppers last year. They do have their uses to be sure.
Once the meat was well mixed with its seasonings. Thankfully I caught her before she stirred in 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt, having mis-read 1/2 a teaspoon & not realizing that was a LOT of salt.
She laughed at the instruction "Cover and refrigerate for one hour to let the flavours mingle. Or you can cook it immediately, if you're very hungry". The things that amuse us!
We got the rice going, and after several forays into the cupboard she finally found my biggest skillet. She has a couple smaller ones, but she would have had to cook her patties in stages.
She decided to try the gloves for making the 2" patties, but they are too big for her hands, so I suggested it might go easier if she just washed her hands well and got to it.
Despite my still queasy stomach dinner was good. As I was cleaning up after supper I noticed the recipe was from the "Morning Food" section of the cookbook, but the little burgers were just as good with a side of rice & steamed peas as they would be with eggs & toast. I topped mine with a dollop of spicy Thai chili sauce, Emily used barbeque sauce.
The recipe is from a book she got for Christmas last year; "Kids Cook 1-2-3" The recipes are designed for beginner chefs & all only have 3 ingredients, barring things like salt, pepper & other basics.
Silver Dollar Sausage Patties
12 ounces ground turkey (we used chicken, because that's what we had)
3 small garlic cloves
2 teaspoons cumin.
Combine ground turkey, garlic, pressed through a garlic press, and cumin, along with a 1/2 teaspoon salt & a 1/4 teaspoon pepper.
Cover & chill for an hour, (or not, if you are hungry!)
Shape the meat into 12 small patties, about 2" across. Cook in a non-stick skillet until browned on both sides, about 2 minutes a side.
And now for your "bonus" recipe.
This recipe, Harvest Pork & Apple Pie" is one I found several years ago in a magazine, I think. It is one of my favourites, personally I enjoy the leftovers for breakfast as much as for lunch. I made it this year as my contribution to Christmas Eve supper at my mother's house, which is just the precursor to the feast to follow on Christmas day. We try to make dishes that won't create a lot of leftovers or that will get eaten later on that night as the boys (now young men, the first lot of grandchildren) decide they need a midnight snack.
I usually only make one at a time, but this year I made 3 - mostly since the recipe on the Tenderflake package was for 6 pie crusts (3 2 crust pies) We needed at least 2 for supper, so I figured I'd go for broke. The recipe below though is for a single pie.
2 pie shells 1/2 teaspoon ground sage (I use several fresh leaves, chopped up)
1 pound ground pork 1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1 stalk celery, chopped 2 medium, tart apples, peeled & sliced
1 medium onion, chopped 2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup fine, dry bread crumbs 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 400F. Brown pork, celery & onion. (I have added a finely chopped carrot too, or instead, since celery disagrees with Peter). Drain off the fat, stir in bread crumbs, chicken broth, salt, sage and cayenne.
Pour this mixture into a prepared pie shell.
Combine apples (Granny Smiths are my favourite) sugar and allspice, spoon over meat.
Top with second crust, seal & vent. Brush with a little milk (I usually forget this step)
Bake 35-40 minutes. Let stand about 10 minutes before serving.
The view from here is a place to discuss the interesting, the mundane, the introspective things I am learning as I travel down this road
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Cooking With Emily
Cooking with a ten year old is always an adventure. Cooking with one who wants to learn, but thinks she knows what she is doing is a special kind of adventure. Why do I do this to myself on Monday nights, when Mondays are filled with their own stresses? I like to experiment on the weekends, and often my chef trainee is off visiting her dad. I considered the week before I picked a day...Tuesdays are busy, Thursday is wine with the dayhome moms, so often supper is late (hey, a girl needs to unwind & vent a little every now & then!) and by Friday I just don't have the energy.
We were half way to organized this week, Emily chose a chicken dish out of one of her own cookbooks (Kids Cook 1-2-3) and I made sure we had chicken thawed. Then we got home Monday evening & I re-read the recipe. I knew it was supposed to bake for 90 minutes, but, I had neglected to note the 30 minute (to overnight) marinating process. I guess my trainee isn't the only one who needs to read & re-read the recipe!
We quickly began skimming through cook books....solo I would have done a quick bread crumb coating and baked the bird, but there's not much learning there. I flipped through the always reliable Company's Coming (Healthy Recipe Makeover) and found something that looked like it would be an adequate replacement recipe. Thankfully Emily agreed.
I set her to measuring out the several ingredients for the milk & egg dip while I measured Rice Krispies and sesame seeds into the blender for the crumb coating. I was short on sesame seeds (note to self- put them on the grocery list that you will leave on your desk) so I substituted with flax seeds. The recipe called for an egg white, but I told Emily to use the whole egg (we'll deal with separating them another day, when it actually matters) and showed her an easy substitution for buttermilk by adding a splash of lemon juice to regular milk. She thought that was gross. She also made me measure in the Dijon mustard, because it smelled funny. To save cooking time I quickly de-boned the chicken breasts I had thawed, putting the bones into a pot to simmer to make soup another day.
While Emily dipped and dredged and coated I asked her what she wanted for a side dish"Perogies" was her definite reply. Surprisingly we had a few buried in the freezer and I glanced at the back of the package to see if there was a fast way to prepare them. Baked in the oven? With the chicken? Perfect. Emily put her chicken into the oven & brushed the frozen perogies with olive oil. I had beets in the fridge that needed to be cooked so I sauted them, putting together a bowl of carrot & celery sticks with raw broccoli for Emily, since she has yet to appreciate crisp, buttery, sweet beets....more for me that way.
Thinking on one's feet is an important skill, in the kitchen and in life. Sometimes things don't work out the way we planned, sometimes we don't have all the ingredients we need and have to make do with what we do have on hand. Story of my life...."Let's just make this work". Learning to be flexible and to rethink things is a skill I hope I am teaching. Those of us who cannot bend and flex a little are bound to be broken by life's storms. And tolerance and compassion should not be taken for blind acceptance....but there I go, off on a tangent. The lesson learned in the kitchen today was a corollary of the old saw "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or make gin & tonic)", "when the clock starts ticking, re-assess your plan".
Dinner was very good. The chicken was not as crispy as I would have liked, and like a true chef Emily was concerned it didn't taste good when I added a little drizzle of Siracha to my piece. It was fine, but I thought it needed something. Next go-round I'd add some zing to the crumb coating. And the discovery that perogies could be baked was a revelation. I prefer them boiled then fried, but that's 2 pans to wash and somewhat time consuming.
We were half way to organized this week, Emily chose a chicken dish out of one of her own cookbooks (Kids Cook 1-2-3) and I made sure we had chicken thawed. Then we got home Monday evening & I re-read the recipe. I knew it was supposed to bake for 90 minutes, but, I had neglected to note the 30 minute (to overnight) marinating process. I guess my trainee isn't the only one who needs to read & re-read the recipe!
We quickly began skimming through cook books....solo I would have done a quick bread crumb coating and baked the bird, but there's not much learning there. I flipped through the always reliable Company's Coming (Healthy Recipe Makeover) and found something that looked like it would be an adequate replacement recipe. Thankfully Emily agreed.
I set her to measuring out the several ingredients for the milk & egg dip while I measured Rice Krispies and sesame seeds into the blender for the crumb coating. I was short on sesame seeds (note to self- put them on the grocery list that you will leave on your desk) so I substituted with flax seeds. The recipe called for an egg white, but I told Emily to use the whole egg (we'll deal with separating them another day, when it actually matters) and showed her an easy substitution for buttermilk by adding a splash of lemon juice to regular milk. She thought that was gross. She also made me measure in the Dijon mustard, because it smelled funny. To save cooking time I quickly de-boned the chicken breasts I had thawed, putting the bones into a pot to simmer to make soup another day.
While Emily dipped and dredged and coated I asked her what she wanted for a side dish"Perogies" was her definite reply. Surprisingly we had a few buried in the freezer and I glanced at the back of the package to see if there was a fast way to prepare them. Baked in the oven? With the chicken? Perfect. Emily put her chicken into the oven & brushed the frozen perogies with olive oil. I had beets in the fridge that needed to be cooked so I sauted them, putting together a bowl of carrot & celery sticks with raw broccoli for Emily, since she has yet to appreciate crisp, buttery, sweet beets....more for me that way.
Thinking on one's feet is an important skill, in the kitchen and in life. Sometimes things don't work out the way we planned, sometimes we don't have all the ingredients we need and have to make do with what we do have on hand. Story of my life...."Let's just make this work". Learning to be flexible and to rethink things is a skill I hope I am teaching. Those of us who cannot bend and flex a little are bound to be broken by life's storms. And tolerance and compassion should not be taken for blind acceptance....but there I go, off on a tangent. The lesson learned in the kitchen today was a corollary of the old saw "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or make gin & tonic)", "when the clock starts ticking, re-assess your plan".
Dinner was very good. The chicken was not as crispy as I would have liked, and like a true chef Emily was concerned it didn't taste good when I added a little drizzle of Siracha to my piece. It was fine, but I thought it needed something. Next go-round I'd add some zing to the crumb coating. And the discovery that perogies could be baked was a revelation. I prefer them boiled then fried, but that's 2 pans to wash and somewhat time consuming.
Oven Fried Chicken
4 cups crisp rice cereal * 1/4 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons sesame seeds 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg white, beaten 1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/3 cup buttermilk 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard 3 tablespoons corn starch
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Process cereal & sesame seeds in a food processer until mixture resembles coarse crumbs (* we had lots of this mixture left over, I think you could get away with 3-3 1/2 cups of cereal. Then again, we only used 4 breasts too, so...)
Whisk together egg, buttermilk, Dijon, garlic powder, paprika, salt & pepper.
Dredge the chicken into the corn starch, shake off excess, dip into buttermilk mixture and then press into cereal mixture until well coated. Place on a greased, foil lined baking sheet.
Bake at 425F for about 30 minutes, until golden.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Breath Again
Behind closed eyes
flashing, glorious light
achingly beautiful,
beyond my poor words
a fleeting dreamscape just beyond my
reach
Opened
only
thieving velvet dark
thieving velvet dark
suffocating, deafening,
stunning
I strain once more to breath
in the encompassing
lightless,
limitless,
breathless dark
limitless,
breathless dark
and there,
just there
a spark
One tiny glimmer
one lonely candle flicker
shatters the dark
Silence lifts, song begins anew
and the whisper of your voice cuts
through the black
my heart begins again
And I gasp,
hope opens my lungs to breath again
I've been struggling lately. There is much to do, and big dreams to chase, but I cannot rouse the ambition for most of it. I wish I could say why. At least then I could do battle against that and see some kind of forward momentum. This is more of an insidious ennui. I would not go so far as to say I am bored...more like I am tired. Not sleep deprived, just weary. Maybe it's the season. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas-every last strand of tinsel, but there is something in the forced gaiety, the temporary "goodwill toward men" that will soon be forgotten (largely, thankfully I know many people who hold the spirit of Christmas throughout the year) that underlines my solitude and my personal struggles. But, honestly that's not quite it either. I am an introvert, a check every box on the list, dyed in the wool, introvert. I embrace my solitude most of the time. I am likely to turn down most invitations...but having an invitation to turn down might be nice.
I'm grasping at straws to explain how I'm feeling, but there is no easy answer. It is what it is. Soon enough, in God's good timing the clouds will part and I will feel better, more hopeful.
I'm grasping at straws to explain how I'm feeling, but there is no easy answer. It is what it is. Soon enough, in God's good timing the clouds will part and I will feel better, more hopeful.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Cooking With Emily
Let's try this again, shall we? I'm not entirely sure where all my ambition has gone, but gone it is. A chinook has brought a lovely reprieve from winter and I still only want to curl up with blankets and books and let the world go on without me for a while.
Once again Monday came too soon, spoiling the languor of a weekend of no commitments, and opening a week overflowing with them, as Christmas fast approaches. Thankfully my shopping is done, my tree is trimmed & I long ago gave up Christmas baking. Still there are school concerts and food bank drives, and life as usual.
I neglected to ask Emily what her plans for dinner were in the Monday morning chaos, and just took out a package of pork chops to thaw. Several hours into the morning I remembered it WAS her night to cook and I took a few minutes to run through a handful of recipes to try to find something she could tackle & enjoy making. In a Back to School issue of a cooking magazine (Taste of Home) I found one that I knew would appeal since root beer was a key ingredient..
Of course when I picked her up she had concocted some idea in her head, and when I told her I had pork chops thawed she amended her idea to become "pork chop stew". Not a terrible idea, but rather formless, which is not a good place for a beginner chef. She warmed to my idea when I explained about the root beer, as I knew she would....especially since she could drink the unused portion of the bottle I had purchased.
The recipe called for a pound and a half of small red potatoes. She was unsure how much that was, so I handed her 5 potatoes about the size of her fist. She had the peeler out, but this recipe left the skin on (a bonus to my mind! No tedious peeling!) We cut them in half (quartered the larger ones) and set them in a pot to boil.
Next came the fun part for a kid-pouring and mixing. She stirred together 1 cup of root beer, 1 cup of ketchup, a tablespoon of brown sugar, 2 teaspoons of chili powder and 2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce. The recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder but I prefer real garlic, so I minced a clove for her. Ever the aesthetic critic Emily said the mixture looked weird, but I urged her to trust me.
Into a large ziploc bag she measured 2 tablespoons of flour, 1/2 a teaspoon of pepper & 1/4 teaspoon of salt. In went the chops, one at a time, to be coated by shaking.
I had already begun to heat a couple tablespoons of oil in my favourite large skillet, and she placed the chops gently into the pan to brown. Once the pork chops were browned (2-3 minutes a side) Emily poured her root beer/ketchup mixture into the pan. Once it started to boil she reduced the heat, covered the pan & let the sauce simmer until the chops were done. (6-8 minutes, but ours were thick & still partly frozen, so we simmered closer to 10 minutes)
By now the potatoes were tender so I drained them for her, and coarsely mashed them with 2 tablespoons of butter, salt & pepper. Again, the recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder, which I replaced by tossing a couple of cloves into the water with the potatoes.
While things were simmering away, against my advice, Emily spread her spelling homework across the kitchen floor. Thankfully there was no evidence of cooking on the pages while we discussed antonyms for words associated with space travel. Soon I heard complaints of hunger and then delight when the timer beeped. She was disappointed there was still one more step...will I ever convince her to actually read a recipe all the way through first?
I lifted the chops from the sauce to a plate, covering it with my biggest stainless steel mixing bowl to keep them warm, and turned up the heat to reduce the sauce. While I stirred Emily opened a can of corn (I would have gone with a green vegetable, like broccoli, but "we haven't had corn for a long time!") and put it in a dish to heat in the microwave..
Finally dinner was done. It was a hit, enough so there was no arguing about finishing dinner, and when I went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers I had a request for a plate to be made for her school lunch the next day.
I suppose the day is coming when I should vacate the kitchen entirely when Emily cooks. And I can (and do) when she tackles chocolate chip cookies and French toast). It is hard not to take over. But we spent time together, and she learned about substituting real garlic for powder and what "reducing" a sauce means.
Soda Pop Chops with Smashed Potatoes
1 1/2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
1 cup of root beer
1 cup of ketchup
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 small clove, minced)
2 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
4 pork loin chops
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1-2 cloves cooked with the potatoes)
Place the potatoes in a large sauce pan, cover with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & cook until tender (15-20 minutes)
In a small bowl combine root beer, ketchup, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce & garlic. Set aside.
In a large resealable bag combine flour with 1/2 teaspoon pepper & 1/4 teaspoon salt. Add pork chops, one at a time, shake to coat.
In a large skillet heat oil & cook chops over medium heat, 2-3 minutes per side, until lightly browned, Drain excess fat. Add root beer mixture, bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & simmer 6-8 minutes, until chops are done (145 F) Remove pork & keep warm. Let stand about 5 minutes before serving.
Bring the sauce to a boil , cook until reduced by half. Meanwhile drain potatoes, mash with butter, salt & pepper. (Incidentally the sauce is pretty good on the potatoes too...)
Once again Monday came too soon, spoiling the languor of a weekend of no commitments, and opening a week overflowing with them, as Christmas fast approaches. Thankfully my shopping is done, my tree is trimmed & I long ago gave up Christmas baking. Still there are school concerts and food bank drives, and life as usual.
I neglected to ask Emily what her plans for dinner were in the Monday morning chaos, and just took out a package of pork chops to thaw. Several hours into the morning I remembered it WAS her night to cook and I took a few minutes to run through a handful of recipes to try to find something she could tackle & enjoy making. In a Back to School issue of a cooking magazine (Taste of Home) I found one that I knew would appeal since root beer was a key ingredient..
Of course when I picked her up she had concocted some idea in her head, and when I told her I had pork chops thawed she amended her idea to become "pork chop stew". Not a terrible idea, but rather formless, which is not a good place for a beginner chef. She warmed to my idea when I explained about the root beer, as I knew she would....especially since she could drink the unused portion of the bottle I had purchased.
The recipe called for a pound and a half of small red potatoes. She was unsure how much that was, so I handed her 5 potatoes about the size of her fist. She had the peeler out, but this recipe left the skin on (a bonus to my mind! No tedious peeling!) We cut them in half (quartered the larger ones) and set them in a pot to boil.
Next came the fun part for a kid-pouring and mixing. She stirred together 1 cup of root beer, 1 cup of ketchup, a tablespoon of brown sugar, 2 teaspoons of chili powder and 2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce. The recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder but I prefer real garlic, so I minced a clove for her. Ever the aesthetic critic Emily said the mixture looked weird, but I urged her to trust me.
Into a large ziploc bag she measured 2 tablespoons of flour, 1/2 a teaspoon of pepper & 1/4 teaspoon of salt. In went the chops, one at a time, to be coated by shaking.
I had already begun to heat a couple tablespoons of oil in my favourite large skillet, and she placed the chops gently into the pan to brown. Once the pork chops were browned (2-3 minutes a side) Emily poured her root beer/ketchup mixture into the pan. Once it started to boil she reduced the heat, covered the pan & let the sauce simmer until the chops were done. (6-8 minutes, but ours were thick & still partly frozen, so we simmered closer to 10 minutes)
By now the potatoes were tender so I drained them for her, and coarsely mashed them with 2 tablespoons of butter, salt & pepper. Again, the recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder, which I replaced by tossing a couple of cloves into the water with the potatoes.
While things were simmering away, against my advice, Emily spread her spelling homework across the kitchen floor. Thankfully there was no evidence of cooking on the pages while we discussed antonyms for words associated with space travel. Soon I heard complaints of hunger and then delight when the timer beeped. She was disappointed there was still one more step...will I ever convince her to actually read a recipe all the way through first?
I lifted the chops from the sauce to a plate, covering it with my biggest stainless steel mixing bowl to keep them warm, and turned up the heat to reduce the sauce. While I stirred Emily opened a can of corn (I would have gone with a green vegetable, like broccoli, but "we haven't had corn for a long time!") and put it in a dish to heat in the microwave..
Finally dinner was done. It was a hit, enough so there was no arguing about finishing dinner, and when I went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers I had a request for a plate to be made for her school lunch the next day.
I suppose the day is coming when I should vacate the kitchen entirely when Emily cooks. And I can (and do) when she tackles chocolate chip cookies and French toast). It is hard not to take over. But we spent time together, and she learned about substituting real garlic for powder and what "reducing" a sauce means.
Soda Pop Chops with Smashed Potatoes
1 1/2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
1 cup of root beer
1 cup of ketchup
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 small clove, minced)
2 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
4 pork loin chops
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1-2 cloves cooked with the potatoes)
Place the potatoes in a large sauce pan, cover with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & cook until tender (15-20 minutes)
In a small bowl combine root beer, ketchup, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce & garlic. Set aside.
In a large resealable bag combine flour with 1/2 teaspoon pepper & 1/4 teaspoon salt. Add pork chops, one at a time, shake to coat.
In a large skillet heat oil & cook chops over medium heat, 2-3 minutes per side, until lightly browned, Drain excess fat. Add root beer mixture, bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & simmer 6-8 minutes, until chops are done (145 F) Remove pork & keep warm. Let stand about 5 minutes before serving.
Bring the sauce to a boil , cook until reduced by half. Meanwhile drain potatoes, mash with butter, salt & pepper. (Incidentally the sauce is pretty good on the potatoes too...)
Thursday, November 27, 2014
A Day to Myself
A day late & a dollar short the saying goes...and that seems to be thematic for me. But I am here, I am writing, and I am sure, in good time, with patience & persistence (hah! Not virtues I have been blessed with) I will find a good rhythm.
Tuesday evening I drove the kids to Awana again, and again I hesitated in the church driveway. Do I go for groceries or head to the mall? Christmas is sneaking up on us again and I have not yet begun shopping in earnest. In the past I have taken a day off and just hit it hard, getting as much done in one fell swoop as I can manage. No waffling, contemplation of ideas long since filed away. I love giving (and receiving) gifts so through the year I pay attention to random conversations and thoughts that drift through my head, tucking ideas away. It used to be easier, but I find great joy in finding the perfect thing for someone. Now if I were truly organized that thought would be accompanied by action, gift purchased and stashed somewhere. This is not the case. I confess though, that while I hate the crowds and the lines, I do like the electricity, the buzz in the air at Christmas time.
Again, I digress. I opted for the mall. First stop, Canadian Tire though for gas. And then the dollar store for the list of things Emily requested for her science project at school. It's always something! And did you know 3 volt motors are not an easy commodity? Why can't the school purchase a boxful & sell them to the students? They're always sending a letter home asking for money for this thing or that anyway. What's one more?
Ok, I'm done with that rant.
The mall was surprisingly not terribly busy, but they have only just begun their Christmas hours, and it was early in the week. My son Andrew works in the mall these days, and as it turned out, was just getting off work. Shopping was set aside for sharing a plate of poutine at the food court. Much more gratifying.
It was good to have an hour to sit and talk. I don't know if I have admitted it here, but as much as I did love my children as infants & toddlers, the older they get the more I enjoy them. We talked about movies & books, and what Christmas wishes we had, and that his sister had (her list changes daily, I think). I got a better sense of his plans for the next few years.
Since my first husband and I split almost 20 years ago (19 in March to be precise) and the courts, in their infinite wisdom, awarded "joint custody" (a joke, but not a funny one) with day to day care to my ex I have worked to build strong relationships with my sons. It is not such an easy thing to judge with young adults, especially young men, but I like to think I have a solid relationship with each of them. I know being with them is easy and I enjoy their company. How they feel I can only guess.
I miss them like crazy, all the time. I want them to spread their wings and build their own lives, but it tears at my heart when they talk about moving away.
That said, I sat there, in the mall food court, talking to my son and I couldn't help but think what a wonderful young man he has become. (Warning, Mother's bias ) He is attractive, in his own unique way, smart and thoughtful with a great sense of humour. Andrew is quiet and introverted, like me....I can see much of myself in him. If you're reading this, son, I am very proud of you.
He was a sweet little boy, affectionate but reserved. He was careful-not cautious particularly, he kept up with the other boys despite being the youngest of the 4 grandsons. But he did nothing until he could do it well. He made no tottering unsure steps learning to walk, he refused to even walk with us holding his hands as a pre-toddler, but one day just walked. Most things came easily to him, school was no challenge, the challenge was for us, the adults in his life, to keep him challenged. Now that he has chosen a more concrete career path I know he will excel. That's how he goes.
I am rambling here. I suppose all that is to say I am pleased my children have grown into people I can treat as friends without ever ceasing to be mom. I love spending time with them, and I am at my best with them one on one. I wonder how other mothers of grown children feel. And when I look at the one still at home I can't help but wonder if we will have this kind of bond in 10 years time. Or will she be pulling away needing her own space. I remember my little boys and see them still in their grown up faces. And I look at my little girl and wonder what her grown up self will be.
It is true what they say. Having children is like having your heart wander about outside your body.
Tuesday evening I drove the kids to Awana again, and again I hesitated in the church driveway. Do I go for groceries or head to the mall? Christmas is sneaking up on us again and I have not yet begun shopping in earnest. In the past I have taken a day off and just hit it hard, getting as much done in one fell swoop as I can manage. No waffling, contemplation of ideas long since filed away. I love giving (and receiving) gifts so through the year I pay attention to random conversations and thoughts that drift through my head, tucking ideas away. It used to be easier, but I find great joy in finding the perfect thing for someone. Now if I were truly organized that thought would be accompanied by action, gift purchased and stashed somewhere. This is not the case. I confess though, that while I hate the crowds and the lines, I do like the electricity, the buzz in the air at Christmas time.
Again, I digress. I opted for the mall. First stop, Canadian Tire though for gas. And then the dollar store for the list of things Emily requested for her science project at school. It's always something! And did you know 3 volt motors are not an easy commodity? Why can't the school purchase a boxful & sell them to the students? They're always sending a letter home asking for money for this thing or that anyway. What's one more?
Ok, I'm done with that rant.
The mall was surprisingly not terribly busy, but they have only just begun their Christmas hours, and it was early in the week. My son Andrew works in the mall these days, and as it turned out, was just getting off work. Shopping was set aside for sharing a plate of poutine at the food court. Much more gratifying.
It was good to have an hour to sit and talk. I don't know if I have admitted it here, but as much as I did love my children as infants & toddlers, the older they get the more I enjoy them. We talked about movies & books, and what Christmas wishes we had, and that his sister had (her list changes daily, I think). I got a better sense of his plans for the next few years.
Since my first husband and I split almost 20 years ago (19 in March to be precise) and the courts, in their infinite wisdom, awarded "joint custody" (a joke, but not a funny one) with day to day care to my ex I have worked to build strong relationships with my sons. It is not such an easy thing to judge with young adults, especially young men, but I like to think I have a solid relationship with each of them. I know being with them is easy and I enjoy their company. How they feel I can only guess.
I miss them like crazy, all the time. I want them to spread their wings and build their own lives, but it tears at my heart when they talk about moving away.
That said, I sat there, in the mall food court, talking to my son and I couldn't help but think what a wonderful young man he has become. (Warning, Mother's bias ) He is attractive, in his own unique way, smart and thoughtful with a great sense of humour. Andrew is quiet and introverted, like me....I can see much of myself in him. If you're reading this, son, I am very proud of you.
He was a sweet little boy, affectionate but reserved. He was careful-not cautious particularly, he kept up with the other boys despite being the youngest of the 4 grandsons. But he did nothing until he could do it well. He made no tottering unsure steps learning to walk, he refused to even walk with us holding his hands as a pre-toddler, but one day just walked. Most things came easily to him, school was no challenge, the challenge was for us, the adults in his life, to keep him challenged. Now that he has chosen a more concrete career path I know he will excel. That's how he goes.
I am rambling here. I suppose all that is to say I am pleased my children have grown into people I can treat as friends without ever ceasing to be mom. I love spending time with them, and I am at my best with them one on one. I wonder how other mothers of grown children feel. And when I look at the one still at home I can't help but wonder if we will have this kind of bond in 10 years time. Or will she be pulling away needing her own space. I remember my little boys and see them still in their grown up faces. And I look at my little girl and wonder what her grown up self will be.
It is true what they say. Having children is like having your heart wander about outside your body.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Cooking with Emily
I apologize for my recent negligence about writing. I have been overtaken by some serious bout of ennui, a sense of restless discontent and although I daily sat at my keyboard there were no words easy flowing.. deeper even than writer's block it seemed I had nothing to say.
But I am determined to press on, one way or another to find my way through the miasma and back to my mountaintop. Starting over one more time.
My daughter, Emily, spent the weekend with her dad. I spent the weekend away, in my, uh, pyjamas, book in hand, coffee and wine in fine supply....wonderful, but a post for some other time.
Sunday evening she returned home backpack full of laundry and a scrap of paper in her hand. She handed it to me as she said good bye to her dad informing me that THIS was what she was making for dinner the following evening. I raised my eyebrows; she gets grandiose ideas of what she can make on her nights to cook, often kiboshed by me because they outside her skill set still or because she has not yet the knowledge and skill in the kitchen to cook without a recipe of some sort. She will get there, in good time I am sure, but she is not there just yet.
I skimmed the hand written instructions on the paper, carefully outlined by my ex's new wife. It looked simple enough, and I quickly quashed the immediate rising of some weird jealousy, an instinctive response to push aside any affiliation with some other person standing in my stead. A non-existent threat to my maternity. I learned a long time ago to choose my battles, and for this child's affections there is no rivalry. She has a huge and generous heart, but there is no doubt our bond is strong.
Monday morning I promised I would purchase the few ingredients we did not have in the pantry as I dropped her off for school and headed off to fill my day. It was busy enough and on my way home I did remember to stop off to buy farmer's sausage and a new block of cheese.
She was surprised and delighted to discover my boyfriend was in town for the afternoon, meaning she had a real audience for her blossoming culinary skills. I sent her into the house with instructions to unpack her school bag & start peeling potatoes while we unloaded the car, partly because I knew potato peeling is a slow job, especially for a beginner, and partly because I had Christmas presents in the back of the car!
When I came in the house she was quick to inform me we had no potatoes, only sweet potatoes, her face prepared to worry or go shopping for them (I'm not sure which...being sent to the store for supplies is a much sought after privilege). I assured her we did indeed have potatoes, and dug deep in the bin I keep both potatoes and onions in to forestall further argument. I found her 5 fair sized ones, and now do need to add them to my grocery list. Four was all her recipe called for, but I told her the fifth one would feel left out, and to peel it too. She laughed at me for giving the last potato a mournful, lonely sob, and took it with giggling sympathy.
Once the potatoes were peeled we set them aside & chopped an onion and some of the farmer's sausage. The recipe called for 1 or 2 links, about 1/2 a pound, I guessed. She put the onion & sausage in a soup pot with a little butter, and cooked them together until the onions were soft.
About this time Peter came in from putting his own shopping in his truck. He laughed out loud when he came into the kitchen-there was our Emily, swathed in her apron, perusing her recipe and lifting a drink (milk) pinky finger extended. He looked at me, shaking his head, telling me she was just like me, although my drink of choice while making supper is usually wine. I suppose the apple has not fallen too far from the tree.
Once the onions were transparent, the potatoes, now cut into bite sized pieces, joined them with a carton of chicken stock. I turned the heat up, put the lid on and sent her to do her homework, or start it any way, while the potatoes cooked. She breezed easily through the spelling with just a few pleas for help, and only one eye roll when we sent her to the dictionary for a definition we could easily have given her. She started on maths and then it was time for the next step in her recipe.
She placed 2 tablespoons (roughly measured) into another pan to melt. I told her then she would need about 2 tablespoons of flour and a cup of milk. I should have been paying closer attention, as the milk was added before the flour became a smooth paste, but I did catch it in time to whisk away any lumps. To this thickened mixture the recipe said to add 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar. Emily sprinkled it in a little at a time, but without measuring. I told her she should measure, she argued that this was what Michelle had done. I agreed the method was right, but she still needed to measure (estimating is not yet in her skill set). Once the cheese was whisked and melted smooth it needed to be added to the soup pot. Given heat and height, I lifted the pan and poured, letting her scrape the pan clean while I whisked the whole mixture to blend it well.
While we were doing this Peter graciously set the table. I gave the soup a good stir and tasted it. Emily did as well, and decided it needed pepper. I advised her against too much as she wielded the pepper mill like a pro, and Peter laughed again when she retorted "I like lots of pepper!" because I say this often. I explained that I did too, but not every one did, and you can always add more, you cannot take it out.
The meal was a success, tasty, warm and filling. Perfect for a chilly, windy November night. At the end I think I would have added a trifle more sausage and allowed the cheese sauce to thicken a little more. Peter tells me she is becoming a good cook, and praised me for teaching her well. He also reminded me of just how much she is watching me, becoming more like me every day (sometimes a frightening thought!).
I did the dishes and sent our budding chef to finish her homework, leaving Peter to grapple with her over her maths. She was impatient, but she was willing to listen on most of the points when he asked her to explain her answers. There is a $5 bet riding on one particular question now. She insisted she was right, we both disagreed, and Monday we will know for sure.
We finished the evening with tea and several hands of Uno, before finishing the reading of "Call of the Wild" and bedtime prayers. Sometime the simplest things truly are the best things.
Cheesy Potato Soup
1 Tablespoon butter
1 small onion, minced
1-2 links farmer's sausage (abt 1/2lb) (I suspect bacon would work here too) diced
4 lg/6 sml potatoes, peeled & cubed
4 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
flour
milk
2 cups grated cheddar (sharp)
In a large pot cook together 1 tablespoon butter, onion and sausage over medium heat until onion is soft. Add potatoes and stock, bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done.
In a separate sauce pan melt second amount of butter, add enough flour to make a paste (about 2 tablespoons) Cook on medium two minutes, add enough milk to make a sauce of gravy like consistency (about 1 cup) Whisk until thickened and smooth.
Gradually whisk in cheese, heat until melted through.
Pour cheese mixture into soup, whisk until smooth, add salt & pepper to taste, and serve.
But I am determined to press on, one way or another to find my way through the miasma and back to my mountaintop. Starting over one more time.
My daughter, Emily, spent the weekend with her dad. I spent the weekend away, in my, uh, pyjamas, book in hand, coffee and wine in fine supply....wonderful, but a post for some other time.
Sunday evening she returned home backpack full of laundry and a scrap of paper in her hand. She handed it to me as she said good bye to her dad informing me that THIS was what she was making for dinner the following evening. I raised my eyebrows; she gets grandiose ideas of what she can make on her nights to cook, often kiboshed by me because they outside her skill set still or because she has not yet the knowledge and skill in the kitchen to cook without a recipe of some sort. She will get there, in good time I am sure, but she is not there just yet.
I skimmed the hand written instructions on the paper, carefully outlined by my ex's new wife. It looked simple enough, and I quickly quashed the immediate rising of some weird jealousy, an instinctive response to push aside any affiliation with some other person standing in my stead. A non-existent threat to my maternity. I learned a long time ago to choose my battles, and for this child's affections there is no rivalry. She has a huge and generous heart, but there is no doubt our bond is strong.
Monday morning I promised I would purchase the few ingredients we did not have in the pantry as I dropped her off for school and headed off to fill my day. It was busy enough and on my way home I did remember to stop off to buy farmer's sausage and a new block of cheese.
She was surprised and delighted to discover my boyfriend was in town for the afternoon, meaning she had a real audience for her blossoming culinary skills. I sent her into the house with instructions to unpack her school bag & start peeling potatoes while we unloaded the car, partly because I knew potato peeling is a slow job, especially for a beginner, and partly because I had Christmas presents in the back of the car!
When I came in the house she was quick to inform me we had no potatoes, only sweet potatoes, her face prepared to worry or go shopping for them (I'm not sure which...being sent to the store for supplies is a much sought after privilege). I assured her we did indeed have potatoes, and dug deep in the bin I keep both potatoes and onions in to forestall further argument. I found her 5 fair sized ones, and now do need to add them to my grocery list. Four was all her recipe called for, but I told her the fifth one would feel left out, and to peel it too. She laughed at me for giving the last potato a mournful, lonely sob, and took it with giggling sympathy.
Once the potatoes were peeled we set them aside & chopped an onion and some of the farmer's sausage. The recipe called for 1 or 2 links, about 1/2 a pound, I guessed. She put the onion & sausage in a soup pot with a little butter, and cooked them together until the onions were soft.
About this time Peter came in from putting his own shopping in his truck. He laughed out loud when he came into the kitchen-there was our Emily, swathed in her apron, perusing her recipe and lifting a drink (milk) pinky finger extended. He looked at me, shaking his head, telling me she was just like me, although my drink of choice while making supper is usually wine. I suppose the apple has not fallen too far from the tree.
Once the onions were transparent, the potatoes, now cut into bite sized pieces, joined them with a carton of chicken stock. I turned the heat up, put the lid on and sent her to do her homework, or start it any way, while the potatoes cooked. She breezed easily through the spelling with just a few pleas for help, and only one eye roll when we sent her to the dictionary for a definition we could easily have given her. She started on maths and then it was time for the next step in her recipe.
She placed 2 tablespoons (roughly measured) into another pan to melt. I told her then she would need about 2 tablespoons of flour and a cup of milk. I should have been paying closer attention, as the milk was added before the flour became a smooth paste, but I did catch it in time to whisk away any lumps. To this thickened mixture the recipe said to add 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar. Emily sprinkled it in a little at a time, but without measuring. I told her she should measure, she argued that this was what Michelle had done. I agreed the method was right, but she still needed to measure (estimating is not yet in her skill set). Once the cheese was whisked and melted smooth it needed to be added to the soup pot. Given heat and height, I lifted the pan and poured, letting her scrape the pan clean while I whisked the whole mixture to blend it well.
While we were doing this Peter graciously set the table. I gave the soup a good stir and tasted it. Emily did as well, and decided it needed pepper. I advised her against too much as she wielded the pepper mill like a pro, and Peter laughed again when she retorted "I like lots of pepper!" because I say this often. I explained that I did too, but not every one did, and you can always add more, you cannot take it out.
The meal was a success, tasty, warm and filling. Perfect for a chilly, windy November night. At the end I think I would have added a trifle more sausage and allowed the cheese sauce to thicken a little more. Peter tells me she is becoming a good cook, and praised me for teaching her well. He also reminded me of just how much she is watching me, becoming more like me every day (sometimes a frightening thought!).
I did the dishes and sent our budding chef to finish her homework, leaving Peter to grapple with her over her maths. She was impatient, but she was willing to listen on most of the points when he asked her to explain her answers. There is a $5 bet riding on one particular question now. She insisted she was right, we both disagreed, and Monday we will know for sure.
We finished the evening with tea and several hands of Uno, before finishing the reading of "Call of the Wild" and bedtime prayers. Sometime the simplest things truly are the best things.
Cheesy Potato Soup
1 Tablespoon butter
1 small onion, minced
1-2 links farmer's sausage (abt 1/2lb) (I suspect bacon would work here too) diced
4 lg/6 sml potatoes, peeled & cubed
4 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
flour
milk
2 cups grated cheddar (sharp)
In a large pot cook together 1 tablespoon butter, onion and sausage over medium heat until onion is soft. Add potatoes and stock, bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done.
In a separate sauce pan melt second amount of butter, add enough flour to make a paste (about 2 tablespoons) Cook on medium two minutes, add enough milk to make a sauce of gravy like consistency (about 1 cup) Whisk until thickened and smooth.
Gradually whisk in cheese, heat until melted through.
Pour cheese mixture into soup, whisk until smooth, add salt & pepper to taste, and serve.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
A Day to Myself
Another Wednesday, another day closer to the weekend. I have enjoyed several days to myself recently, as Emily went to her dad's a day early, leaving on Thursday evening, and not returning home until Sunday evening. I can't say I accomplished much that was productive-I read ( a lot), I watched movies, enjoyed some of my favourite "there's no one to cook for" suppers, and even spent one wonderful evening with friends. Entirely self-indulgent, sleeping late, moving slow....days to be savoured. I had good intentions of going to church Sunday morning, but the day dawned with ugly weather and I opted to stay off the highway.
There was no school Monday or Tuesday. Monday was a professional development day for the teachers (or some such thing, I don't keep particular track) and Tuesday was, of course, Remembrance Day. I stayed in Monday, and Emily entertained a friend. I let them loose in the kitchen to make banana bread (I had over ripe bananas that needed using) and spent most of the day curled up with my book.
Tuesday I took Emily to the Remembrance Day service here. She baulked at going, it was cold & I think she had envisioned spending the day in her pjs with her Legos & movies. I couldn't really blame her, I remember going as a kid, a Brownie, in fact, shivering in my uniform at the cenotaph and bored senseless at the service. And yet I felt like it was important.
As we pulled up to the community museum for the service I explained to her, briefly, why it was so important to show our respect. I told her there were places in the world where little girls didn't get to go to school, where you were not free to worship the way you wanted to, and that because of so many brave men & women we could live freely.
She actually enjoyed the service. I am not sure just how much she understood, but she watched & listened, fascinated. The bugler playing The Last Post was just behind & right of us, and I confess I got chills listening to the lone instrument's mournful call. The cannon volley outside, while muffled, still gave one pause.
Later, as I was sharing the details of the service with my boyfriend, who attended in another community, and with my mother, who happens to be the Legion President in my home town, I could not help but think how glad I am that my daughter has no sense of the real horrors in the world. She is not unaware. At school they discussed the recent events in Ottawa, and she has seen & heard enough of the news, although I do try to keep her from most of it, as I think too often media focuses on the lurid and sensational aspects of a story rather than on the facts. And it focuses on the ugliness of the world and not enough on the beauty of it.
I am glad she doesn't understand just what a blessing it is to worship Jesus openly, to pray & speak his name freely; that she doesn't know what a privilege school is, or that she has no idea how rich she really is because she is surrounded by people who love her, she had enough clothes for several little girls, and a roof over her head, food in a refrigerator, and clean water. I am glad she can take these things for granted, and I know in time, as her knowledge grows she will not, because she has also been blessed by a compassionate and generous heart.
It wasn't so much a day to myself, given that Emily was home, but it was a quiet day of reflection.
We are blessed, and to those of you who have sacrificed much that I can freely ramble on like this and live a life of quiet peace, I thank you.
There was no school Monday or Tuesday. Monday was a professional development day for the teachers (or some such thing, I don't keep particular track) and Tuesday was, of course, Remembrance Day. I stayed in Monday, and Emily entertained a friend. I let them loose in the kitchen to make banana bread (I had over ripe bananas that needed using) and spent most of the day curled up with my book.
Tuesday I took Emily to the Remembrance Day service here. She baulked at going, it was cold & I think she had envisioned spending the day in her pjs with her Legos & movies. I couldn't really blame her, I remember going as a kid, a Brownie, in fact, shivering in my uniform at the cenotaph and bored senseless at the service. And yet I felt like it was important.
As we pulled up to the community museum for the service I explained to her, briefly, why it was so important to show our respect. I told her there were places in the world where little girls didn't get to go to school, where you were not free to worship the way you wanted to, and that because of so many brave men & women we could live freely.
She actually enjoyed the service. I am not sure just how much she understood, but she watched & listened, fascinated. The bugler playing The Last Post was just behind & right of us, and I confess I got chills listening to the lone instrument's mournful call. The cannon volley outside, while muffled, still gave one pause.
Later, as I was sharing the details of the service with my boyfriend, who attended in another community, and with my mother, who happens to be the Legion President in my home town, I could not help but think how glad I am that my daughter has no sense of the real horrors in the world. She is not unaware. At school they discussed the recent events in Ottawa, and she has seen & heard enough of the news, although I do try to keep her from most of it, as I think too often media focuses on the lurid and sensational aspects of a story rather than on the facts. And it focuses on the ugliness of the world and not enough on the beauty of it.
I am glad she doesn't understand just what a blessing it is to worship Jesus openly, to pray & speak his name freely; that she doesn't know what a privilege school is, or that she has no idea how rich she really is because she is surrounded by people who love her, she had enough clothes for several little girls, and a roof over her head, food in a refrigerator, and clean water. I am glad she can take these things for granted, and I know in time, as her knowledge grows she will not, because she has also been blessed by a compassionate and generous heart.
It wasn't so much a day to myself, given that Emily was home, but it was a quiet day of reflection.
We are blessed, and to those of you who have sacrificed much that I can freely ramble on like this and live a life of quiet peace, I thank you.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Cooking With Emily: Nacho Casserole
Last week was my first stab at a new direction for my blog. I got three days organized, started on Friday's post half a dozen times... and there it sits in the drafts folder. It is just not taking shape. I appreciate your thoughts & input, please share them with me.
It's Tuesday again, and again Emily made supper for us last night. Because there was no school yesterday we had a little more time for her to make something that took a little bit longer to create. Still less than 30 minutes, plus baking time, for you looking for fast & easy recipes.
Last week, looking for the Corn Chowder recipe, Emily found this casserole & decided it was her choice for this week. It tends to be popular with kids because it contains chips-it was always a hit at potluck suppers, and I suspect that, and the name, were part of the draw. For me it was re-visiting an old favourite. The recipe card is written, again, in my juvenile hand, but I can't date it precisely. Some of the ink is fading, and in the instructions are my feeble attempts to scribe an ampersand (&). Still can't do it, have resigned myself to using a (+) sign when I write longhand.
While Emily walked her friend home I started browning the ground beef because the package was still mostly frozen. Winter has arrived with a vengeance and it is cold in my kitchen. By the time she got back & got undressed the meat was on its way. Into the meat she added 1 onion, chopped & i minced clove of garlic. Because I had started the process it was hard for me to step aside & just supervise. I handed her the recipe card & told her to read it carefully. The meat was about two-thirds browned & she was eager to take the next step. I stopped her, explaining that the onions were not yet cooked, and there was quite a bit of water from the meat in the pan. I had her drain the can of kidney bean & place them in a mixing bowl so I could use the can. I spooned most of it off for her, as this is not a kid-friendly task, placing it in the can for easy disposal. Tin cans usually go into the recycling bin, but sometimes they have other uses.
Into the kidney beans she mixed 1 cup of shredded cheddar. As a parenthetical note I often will grate large quantities of cheese and keep it for these kinds of uses. Sometimes the block in the fridge is getting old, sometimes I need a little for a recipe & since I have the grater out I may as well do a lot as a little. And the cost of pre shredded cheese is insane. Anyway...Back to cooking.
Into the now drained & browned ground beef, onion & garlic mixture Emily poured one can of tomato sauce & a package of taco seasoning. I confess I had to purchase this specifically since I season taco meat with my own mix of spices, by taste & aroma, She stirred everything together & set it aside to simmer while starting to construct this layered dish.
I had greased a 2 quart casserole dish for her, and into it she laid 1/3 of a bag of taco chips (I bought Zesty Cheese Doritos for this dish, but any flavour - or plain ones- would work). The mixture of kidney beans and cheese was poured onto the chips, followed by another third of the chips. Next we spooned in the meat mixture (I say we because lifting the pan & pouring was much easier for me to do. ) This was topped with the remainder of the chips, a half cup of taco sauce (we used salsa) and another cup of shredded cheese.
The recipe card makes no mention of baking this, whether because it's not necessary or because my overly confident mind omitted that detail I do not know. I do know I have always heated this in the oven for about 30 minutes, at 350 degrees F. I suppose one could take it either way, as the meat sauce is warm.
When we sat down to eat Emily decided to add sour cream and salsa to her serving, I opted for a smaller portion and a small salad, trying to regain control of some poor habits....a post for another day perhaps.
The casserole was as tasty as I remembered, but saltier (the fault of the taco seasoning packet, since we added no salt, and the chips, of course). It made a huge meal though, at least huge for the two of us. I suspect my wonderful & hard working babysitter will be getting lunch for the minions tomorrow. I think, apart from not wanting to do battle with my kids about eating the beans (Emily tried to pick them out, I told her if she left them mixed in she wouldn't even taste them....but that didn't work on me at 10, what made me think it would work on her? She did leave them in though, so maybe it does work sometimes....or maybe Nancy's influence (my amazing sitter) is shining through...or having made it herself helped. ) it was the sheer volume of the dish that left it in the archives rather that having it a part of the repetitive. Cooking for one, or one and a half, doesn't make most casseroles very practical. I have always done this dish in a deep casserole as well, but having made it now I think a longer, shallow dish (like a 9x13 cake pan) might work better. Hindsight, as they say.
Nacho Casserole
1 cup chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 1/2 lbs ground beef (lean)
1 can tomato sauce (398 ml/15 oz)
1 package taco seasoning
1 can kidney beans
2 cups shredded cheddar, divided
1 bag taco chips
1/2 cup taco sauce/salsa
1/2 cup scallions (optional)
Brown beef, onion, and garlic, drain if needed. Stir in tomato sauce and taco seasoning.
Drain kidney beans, toss with 1 cup of cheese
Grease a 2 quart casserole dish, layer bottom with with one third of the chips. Lay bean/cheese mixture over chips, top with another third of the chips. Pour meat sauce over. Top with remaining chips, drizzle with taco sauce, sprinkle with scallions and remaining cheese.
It's Tuesday again, and again Emily made supper for us last night. Because there was no school yesterday we had a little more time for her to make something that took a little bit longer to create. Still less than 30 minutes, plus baking time, for you looking for fast & easy recipes.
Last week, looking for the Corn Chowder recipe, Emily found this casserole & decided it was her choice for this week. It tends to be popular with kids because it contains chips-it was always a hit at potluck suppers, and I suspect that, and the name, were part of the draw. For me it was re-visiting an old favourite. The recipe card is written, again, in my juvenile hand, but I can't date it precisely. Some of the ink is fading, and in the instructions are my feeble attempts to scribe an ampersand (&). Still can't do it, have resigned myself to using a (+) sign when I write longhand.
While Emily walked her friend home I started browning the ground beef because the package was still mostly frozen. Winter has arrived with a vengeance and it is cold in my kitchen. By the time she got back & got undressed the meat was on its way. Into the meat she added 1 onion, chopped & i minced clove of garlic. Because I had started the process it was hard for me to step aside & just supervise. I handed her the recipe card & told her to read it carefully. The meat was about two-thirds browned & she was eager to take the next step. I stopped her, explaining that the onions were not yet cooked, and there was quite a bit of water from the meat in the pan. I had her drain the can of kidney bean & place them in a mixing bowl so I could use the can. I spooned most of it off for her, as this is not a kid-friendly task, placing it in the can for easy disposal. Tin cans usually go into the recycling bin, but sometimes they have other uses.
Into the kidney beans she mixed 1 cup of shredded cheddar. As a parenthetical note I often will grate large quantities of cheese and keep it for these kinds of uses. Sometimes the block in the fridge is getting old, sometimes I need a little for a recipe & since I have the grater out I may as well do a lot as a little. And the cost of pre shredded cheese is insane. Anyway...Back to cooking.
Into the now drained & browned ground beef, onion & garlic mixture Emily poured one can of tomato sauce & a package of taco seasoning. I confess I had to purchase this specifically since I season taco meat with my own mix of spices, by taste & aroma, She stirred everything together & set it aside to simmer while starting to construct this layered dish.
I had greased a 2 quart casserole dish for her, and into it she laid 1/3 of a bag of taco chips (I bought Zesty Cheese Doritos for this dish, but any flavour - or plain ones- would work). The mixture of kidney beans and cheese was poured onto the chips, followed by another third of the chips. Next we spooned in the meat mixture (I say we because lifting the pan & pouring was much easier for me to do. ) This was topped with the remainder of the chips, a half cup of taco sauce (we used salsa) and another cup of shredded cheese.
The recipe card makes no mention of baking this, whether because it's not necessary or because my overly confident mind omitted that detail I do not know. I do know I have always heated this in the oven for about 30 minutes, at 350 degrees F. I suppose one could take it either way, as the meat sauce is warm.
When we sat down to eat Emily decided to add sour cream and salsa to her serving, I opted for a smaller portion and a small salad, trying to regain control of some poor habits....a post for another day perhaps.
The casserole was as tasty as I remembered, but saltier (the fault of the taco seasoning packet, since we added no salt, and the chips, of course). It made a huge meal though, at least huge for the two of us. I suspect my wonderful & hard working babysitter will be getting lunch for the minions tomorrow. I think, apart from not wanting to do battle with my kids about eating the beans (Emily tried to pick them out, I told her if she left them mixed in she wouldn't even taste them....but that didn't work on me at 10, what made me think it would work on her? She did leave them in though, so maybe it does work sometimes....or maybe Nancy's influence (my amazing sitter) is shining through...or having made it herself helped. ) it was the sheer volume of the dish that left it in the archives rather that having it a part of the repetitive. Cooking for one, or one and a half, doesn't make most casseroles very practical. I have always done this dish in a deep casserole as well, but having made it now I think a longer, shallow dish (like a 9x13 cake pan) might work better. Hindsight, as they say.
Nacho Casserole
1 cup chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 1/2 lbs ground beef (lean)
1 can tomato sauce (398 ml/15 oz)
1 package taco seasoning
1 can kidney beans
2 cups shredded cheddar, divided
1 bag taco chips
1/2 cup taco sauce/salsa
1/2 cup scallions (optional)
Brown beef, onion, and garlic, drain if needed. Stir in tomato sauce and taco seasoning.
Drain kidney beans, toss with 1 cup of cheese
Grease a 2 quart casserole dish, layer bottom with with one third of the chips. Lay bean/cheese mixture over chips, top with another third of the chips. Pour meat sauce over. Top with remaining chips, drizzle with taco sauce, sprinkle with scallions and remaining cheese.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Restless Bed
Alone in my restless bed
the night wind sings through the stars
Arguing truth with shadow whispered
lies
In the distance a train whistle cries
into the chill dark.
Gusty west winds
rattle window panes,
curtains dance
And I shiver...
Wrap empty arms around your pillow,
breathe deep, seeking the last vestiges
of your scent
Aching for your touch, your arms around
me again,
your voice, your kiss
reassuring and promising
tender and sweet and passionate
The storm abates
the night breeze singing with the
stars
brings remembrance of warm summer
nights
of brilliant days, quiet dawns and
still evenings
Of laughter and tears and promises and
plans.
In the distance a train whistle cries
into the waning night
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
A Day To Myself
In yesterday's post I stated I wanted to shake things up a little, rather than trying to focus on one particular line of content. A dyed in the wool introvert I thought Wednesdays now could become "A Day to Myself". In all honesty, living alone, except for my ten year old (who is an extrovert - now there's a challenge!) most days are "a day to myself". I have always enjoyed my own company, and for years felt somewhat defensive about that fact. I am no misanthrope, but have only truly begin to embrace who I really am. Yes, I still envy people who are social butterflies, comfortable in groups and crowds. Parties and potlucks and school functions are torture for me. I grit my teeth and hope beyond hope to find another tormented introvert to hide in the shadows with....somewhere near the door to make a hasty escape! I envy happy couples too, despite being in a wonderful and loving relationship myself. It is a long distance relationship which has it's own challenges, probably most easily met because we are both introverts, and the distance makes our time together especially sweet. But I digress. Again.
Last night was my turn to drive the short people to Awana, leaving my friend Nancy to enjoy a bi-weekly date night with her husband. Some Tuesdays I head to Walmart to get groceries, but the pantry is well stocked this week. I dropped the kids off at the church and headed out again. Just over 90 minutes of time to fill. I hesitated in the driveway. The lure of the endless stacks of books to peruse at Chapters was powerful, but so was the siren call of buffalo wings & my current literary escape. I turned left, and pulled into a quiet restaurant/lounge just behind the church. I slipped in, ordered a glass of wine (a nice ale is my usual choice with wings, but I had been chilled all day - wine felt warmer) and a plate of wings. Tucked away in my booth I laid my book on the table and lost myself in ancient Rome with Messala & Judah Ben Hur. The movie has been a favourite of mine since my teens but I have to confess I have never read the book. I was surprised to discover it was first published in 1880, which explains the dense descriptive text. Again I digress. Books have been my favoured companions for as long as I can remember. My mother tells me I was clambering into the laps of our hired farm help book in hand as a toddler, much to the chagrin of these poor young men in dirty work clothes, some of whom could barely read themselves. I don't remember learning to read, but I do remember getting my first library card and the thrill of filling it & needing to renew it. And I well remember being frustrated that part of the elementary school library was off limits to scholars not yet in the lofty fifth and sixth grades. I remember the guilty pleasure of reading the books that raised eyebrows (East of Eden, after Dad said the movie was inappropriate for me when he recalled what it was about & turned off the tv, Peyton Place, for similar reasons, and The Agony & The Ecstasy, because my high school classmates thought it scandalous based on the title alone, and its overwhelming size)
I've had plenty of time to myself lately. I little too much, to be completely honest. But I have been enjoying the quiet. I'm writing more, catching up on my reading, and have tackled a few big STA (spare time activity) projects (you know, those little chores we all put off for when we have time-cleaning out closets, organizing the garage, we all have a list, don't we?) I still have more to tackle, am officially in procrastination mode again. A little free time is good, too much opens itself up to "I have time for that tomorrow."
We spent the weekend in a travel trailer in Brooks. A slice of heavenly escape for me. Not the town particularly, just the "getting away". No housework, no laundry, no tv, computer, no phone to speak of (yes, you can still reach my cell) none of the pulls of hearth and home. My boyfriend and I slept late and sat silently side by side, lost in our books all afternoon. My daughter, who does like to read but not like we do (not yet) watched a movie & begged me to play crib with her. We did, we enjoyed the movie too, family time is important. I tried to explain to her that she needs to learn to enjoy her own company, because sometimes that's all there is. A lesson lost on her. One day she'll understand. I know she will always crave company and activity, it's how she's wired, but silence and stillness is not something to be feared but embraced. In a busy, noisy, plugged in world is it any surprise people are seeking out new forms of meditation and prayer? Why exercise like yoga, that calls for one to be still, is on the rise in popularity? It is in the quiet places we hear that "still, small voice", where inspiration grows, where peace dwells?
I'm curious....if you had a day, an evening all to yourself-no kids, no spouse, no friends- to spend by yourself, on yourself, what would you do? Personally I have a list, and what I chose does depend on the mood I'm in.
Last night was my turn to drive the short people to Awana, leaving my friend Nancy to enjoy a bi-weekly date night with her husband. Some Tuesdays I head to Walmart to get groceries, but the pantry is well stocked this week. I dropped the kids off at the church and headed out again. Just over 90 minutes of time to fill. I hesitated in the driveway. The lure of the endless stacks of books to peruse at Chapters was powerful, but so was the siren call of buffalo wings & my current literary escape. I turned left, and pulled into a quiet restaurant/lounge just behind the church. I slipped in, ordered a glass of wine (a nice ale is my usual choice with wings, but I had been chilled all day - wine felt warmer) and a plate of wings. Tucked away in my booth I laid my book on the table and lost myself in ancient Rome with Messala & Judah Ben Hur. The movie has been a favourite of mine since my teens but I have to confess I have never read the book. I was surprised to discover it was first published in 1880, which explains the dense descriptive text. Again I digress. Books have been my favoured companions for as long as I can remember. My mother tells me I was clambering into the laps of our hired farm help book in hand as a toddler, much to the chagrin of these poor young men in dirty work clothes, some of whom could barely read themselves. I don't remember learning to read, but I do remember getting my first library card and the thrill of filling it & needing to renew it. And I well remember being frustrated that part of the elementary school library was off limits to scholars not yet in the lofty fifth and sixth grades. I remember the guilty pleasure of reading the books that raised eyebrows (East of Eden, after Dad said the movie was inappropriate for me when he recalled what it was about & turned off the tv, Peyton Place, for similar reasons, and The Agony & The Ecstasy, because my high school classmates thought it scandalous based on the title alone, and its overwhelming size)
I've had plenty of time to myself lately. I little too much, to be completely honest. But I have been enjoying the quiet. I'm writing more, catching up on my reading, and have tackled a few big STA (spare time activity) projects (you know, those little chores we all put off for when we have time-cleaning out closets, organizing the garage, we all have a list, don't we?) I still have more to tackle, am officially in procrastination mode again. A little free time is good, too much opens itself up to "I have time for that tomorrow."
We spent the weekend in a travel trailer in Brooks. A slice of heavenly escape for me. Not the town particularly, just the "getting away". No housework, no laundry, no tv, computer, no phone to speak of (yes, you can still reach my cell) none of the pulls of hearth and home. My boyfriend and I slept late and sat silently side by side, lost in our books all afternoon. My daughter, who does like to read but not like we do (not yet) watched a movie & begged me to play crib with her. We did, we enjoyed the movie too, family time is important. I tried to explain to her that she needs to learn to enjoy her own company, because sometimes that's all there is. A lesson lost on her. One day she'll understand. I know she will always crave company and activity, it's how she's wired, but silence and stillness is not something to be feared but embraced. In a busy, noisy, plugged in world is it any surprise people are seeking out new forms of meditation and prayer? Why exercise like yoga, that calls for one to be still, is on the rise in popularity? It is in the quiet places we hear that "still, small voice", where inspiration grows, where peace dwells?
I'm curious....if you had a day, an evening all to yourself-no kids, no spouse, no friends- to spend by yourself, on yourself, what would you do? Personally I have a list, and what I chose does depend on the mood I'm in.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Cooking With Emily
I've been thinking quite a lot lately about taking this blog in a new direction. While I am not one to change horses midstream posting poetry is not something I am finding I can do daily, or even several times a week. A friend suggested I take up multiple threads, and so I am going to give her advice a nod and give that a try. I have yet to work out all the details, please bear with me through this work in progress. I welcome your thoughts and suggestions, to my mind this should be something of a conversation between me & you, my reader.
Back in September, at the start of the school year, I decided that one day a week my ten year old daughter would make supper. She has an interest in learning to cook so this seemed a good opportunity to nurture that. I confess we have not managed every week, some weeks we are just busy, sometimes I forget....and to be honest preparing a meal myself is faster and easier.
This endeavour has had multiple benefits already though. I am learning patience, to let go of control, as well as revisiting old favourites in my kitchen. I have also had to back track and explain my short cuts and alterations. My daughter has become far more adventurous in her eating habits. She has earned bragging rights and is learning to plan ahead, read directions and to measure accurately. I still help with some of the chopping and peeling, for efficiency and safety, but she is responsible for the rest.
In that vein then Tuesday posts will be "Cooking with Emily", posts that allow me to share a kid-friendly, easy to do recipe along with my musings.
One of Emily's favourite soups is Corn Chowder. There are tons of recipes out there, and I have modified my favourite recipe along the way to make use of odds and ends. She declared on the weekend that this was what she wanted to make. I confess I had to scramble to find the actual recipe, as it is one I can make from memory. I did find it, in my ancient metal recipe box. It is faded & stained, written in my own juvenile hand. I don't know where the recipe is from any more, it was one of the earliest additions to my repertoire. Sunday evening I had Emily check the pantry for canned corn, for onions and potatoes, I knew for sure the other ingredients were on hand, but I thought we might be out of onions and potatoes. All we had were red onions, so a trip to the grocery on Monday was in order.
She eagerly set to peeling 4 fist sized potatoes. I could have done it faster, but I held my peace and left her to it. This is something of an accomplishment for me. I am pretty territorial in my kitchen, and impatient to boot. But the only way to learn some things, and to gain speed and efficiency in those tasks is to do them. I did peel the onion, when she set to attack it with the vegetable peeler. She fretted about the onion making her cry, asking me to wash it. It's not washing it so much as knowing that running an onion briefly under cold water neutralizes the fumes that make your eyes water when you chop them. I don't know why it works, but it does. Really. Sometimes the random things we read on the internet is useful.
Vegetables chopped, into the soup pot. The recipe calls for 2 cups of water, but I find that's not enough to cover the potatoes and onion, so we added enough water to do that & set it on the stove to boil. While the potatoes cooked Emily went to start her homework. I returned to my Words With Friends games, checking their progress toward tenderness occasionally.
Once the potatoes were tender Emily made a paste of 2 tablespoons of flour and 4 tablespoons of water, to thicken the soup. I explained to her that if she poured that mixture into the pot she'd have a doughy lump in the soup, and helped her spoon some hot water into the flour mixture first. While the flour cooked she opened and drained 2 cans of niblet corn, which were added next to the potatoes and onion with 2 cups of milk and 2 tablespoons of butter. While it heated through she returned to her homework. She is learning the fine art of multitasking too.
The soup was delicious. It is in fact an almost fool proof recipe, a good starter soup for a beginner chef.
Later, while I was doing dishes and she was finishing her spelling she heard me singing "That's Amore". I think the line "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" amused her, so we had to play the song, and find the lyrics. She was singing it at the top of her lungs in the shower within the hour. All of my children have be given the gift of wildly eclectic tastes in books and music and movies. I can't help but grin to think of her asking the music teacher to add that song to the playlist....I doubt she will, but a mother can dream, of children singing with crooners, and a day when I don't need to face the kitchen once a week, at least.
Corn Chowder
4 medium potatoes, peeled & chopped into bite size pieces
1 large onion, peeled & chopped
2 cups water (enough to cover vegetables)
4 tablespoons flour + 2 tablespoons water
2 cans corn (niblets) drained
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
salt & pepper to taste
Place the potatoes & onion in a large pot, cover with water. Bring to a boil & simmer until potatoes are tender. Blend together flour with second amount of water until smooth. Spoon a little hot water from the pot into the mixture, then pour into the potato/onion water, stir and allow to thicken slightly. Stir in corn, milk, butter, salt & pepper. Heat through.
* I have used chicken stock to cook the potatoes and then added leftover chopped chicken to the soup with the corn & milk to make Chicken Corn Chowder.
Back in September, at the start of the school year, I decided that one day a week my ten year old daughter would make supper. She has an interest in learning to cook so this seemed a good opportunity to nurture that. I confess we have not managed every week, some weeks we are just busy, sometimes I forget....and to be honest preparing a meal myself is faster and easier.
This endeavour has had multiple benefits already though. I am learning patience, to let go of control, as well as revisiting old favourites in my kitchen. I have also had to back track and explain my short cuts and alterations. My daughter has become far more adventurous in her eating habits. She has earned bragging rights and is learning to plan ahead, read directions and to measure accurately. I still help with some of the chopping and peeling, for efficiency and safety, but she is responsible for the rest.
In that vein then Tuesday posts will be "Cooking with Emily", posts that allow me to share a kid-friendly, easy to do recipe along with my musings.
One of Emily's favourite soups is Corn Chowder. There are tons of recipes out there, and I have modified my favourite recipe along the way to make use of odds and ends. She declared on the weekend that this was what she wanted to make. I confess I had to scramble to find the actual recipe, as it is one I can make from memory. I did find it, in my ancient metal recipe box. It is faded & stained, written in my own juvenile hand. I don't know where the recipe is from any more, it was one of the earliest additions to my repertoire. Sunday evening I had Emily check the pantry for canned corn, for onions and potatoes, I knew for sure the other ingredients were on hand, but I thought we might be out of onions and potatoes. All we had were red onions, so a trip to the grocery on Monday was in order.
She eagerly set to peeling 4 fist sized potatoes. I could have done it faster, but I held my peace and left her to it. This is something of an accomplishment for me. I am pretty territorial in my kitchen, and impatient to boot. But the only way to learn some things, and to gain speed and efficiency in those tasks is to do them. I did peel the onion, when she set to attack it with the vegetable peeler. She fretted about the onion making her cry, asking me to wash it. It's not washing it so much as knowing that running an onion briefly under cold water neutralizes the fumes that make your eyes water when you chop them. I don't know why it works, but it does. Really. Sometimes the random things we read on the internet is useful.
Vegetables chopped, into the soup pot. The recipe calls for 2 cups of water, but I find that's not enough to cover the potatoes and onion, so we added enough water to do that & set it on the stove to boil. While the potatoes cooked Emily went to start her homework. I returned to my Words With Friends games, checking their progress toward tenderness occasionally.
Once the potatoes were tender Emily made a paste of 2 tablespoons of flour and 4 tablespoons of water, to thicken the soup. I explained to her that if she poured that mixture into the pot she'd have a doughy lump in the soup, and helped her spoon some hot water into the flour mixture first. While the flour cooked she opened and drained 2 cans of niblet corn, which were added next to the potatoes and onion with 2 cups of milk and 2 tablespoons of butter. While it heated through she returned to her homework. She is learning the fine art of multitasking too.
The soup was delicious. It is in fact an almost fool proof recipe, a good starter soup for a beginner chef.
Later, while I was doing dishes and she was finishing her spelling she heard me singing "That's Amore". I think the line "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" amused her, so we had to play the song, and find the lyrics. She was singing it at the top of her lungs in the shower within the hour. All of my children have be given the gift of wildly eclectic tastes in books and music and movies. I can't help but grin to think of her asking the music teacher to add that song to the playlist....I doubt she will, but a mother can dream, of children singing with crooners, and a day when I don't need to face the kitchen once a week, at least.
Corn Chowder
4 medium potatoes, peeled & chopped into bite size pieces
1 large onion, peeled & chopped
2 cups water (enough to cover vegetables)
4 tablespoons flour + 2 tablespoons water
2 cans corn (niblets) drained
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
salt & pepper to taste
Place the potatoes & onion in a large pot, cover with water. Bring to a boil & simmer until potatoes are tender. Blend together flour with second amount of water until smooth. Spoon a little hot water from the pot into the mixture, then pour into the potato/onion water, stir and allow to thicken slightly. Stir in corn, milk, butter, salt & pepper. Heat through.
* I have used chicken stock to cook the potatoes and then added leftover chopped chicken to the soup with the corn & milk to make Chicken Corn Chowder.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
The Gate Called Beautiful
Long, gray, empty days
head lowered, watching every shuffling
step
careless, care-filled
Invisible
silent, lonely
hands curled
empty
aching to be touched
I saw nothing-
dirt and dust, hurrying feet
Felt smaller
less valuable with every passing hour.
Began to wonder if I ever had worth,
value
Was I ever loved? Could I be? Would I
be?
Ceased looking up with hope
should someone pause
eyes ever downcast lest they see the
truth of my pain
Smiled a watery, dismal smile
extended a barren empty vessel
Begging the smallest crumb of notice
Until that day
Felt you take my hand
The warmth of your touch
the strength of your grasp
You pulled my to my feet
Looked me in the eye
Smiled
Saw me-
truly saw me
The warmth of your embrace flooded
frozen limbs
Knees trembling my toes began to move
the rhythm of some deep cosmic song...
I could not contain it
I leapt
I sang
I danced
Your laughter kissed away doubt
Your smile filled me
Your touch brought healing to places
I never knew were broken
I did not even know were broken
Beggar's robes cast off
You re-clothed me,
led me into Beautiful
Friday, October 17, 2014
My Name
Before there was time
you spoke.
Whispered my name;
even as you called stars and trees and
mountains to be.
In Mother's arms
you spoke
Murmured my name into her heart,
sang it to me, my lullaby
Storms raged around me-
fear and loss and doubt
But,
called soft under the wind
my name, your voice,
my knees weak, my heart dares again to hope
Tender on Lover's lips
carried on the evening breeze
you spoke.
My Name
And I knew who I Am
(John 20:16)
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Quiet Places
In the deepest stillness the Aria of Truth overwhelms the noise of lies...
Rare Treasures
these
Quiet Places....
Savour
the scent of sunlight on autumn grass;
the taste of amethyst Merlot-
rich and heady;
the Song of Memory-
little boys laughing
Dust motes dancing.
these
Silent Spaces...
Imbibe
the taste of ink and yellowed pages turning
the scent of amber coffee
rich and heady
the Melody of Dream-
heartbeat conversations
eyes and hands and lips
Dust motes dancing.
Quiet Places
these
Rare Treasures.
Rare Treasures
these
Quiet Places....
Savour
the scent of sunlight on autumn grass;
the taste of amethyst Merlot-
rich and heady;
the Song of Memory-
little boys laughing
Dust motes dancing.
these
Silent Spaces...
Imbibe
the taste of ink and yellowed pages turning
the scent of amber coffee
rich and heady
the Melody of Dream-
heartbeat conversations
eyes and hands and lips
Dust motes dancing.
Quiet Places
these
Rare Treasures.
******
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Fear
Fear
A gnat humming in my ear,
fluttering just inside the line of my
vision
Irritating, annoying but insignificant.
A brief wave of my hand, a flick of my
finger
I brush it away.
A yapping dog, nipping at my ankles,
twining between my legs, making me
stumble.
Persistent, insistent, aggravating
I speak sharply, shooing
kicking it aside
And now,
Now
Fire breathing, winged dragon
Eyes blazing green, angry tail whipping
at me
I fall, grappling for my sword
It looms over me, wings flapping lazily
daring me, challenging me, threatening
me.
I swallow the heavy lump in my throat,
flex my fingers, re-grasping my
gleaming weapon,
square my shoulders and step toward it.
Lunging-
parry, thrust,
press forward, fall back,
the eternal dance.
My back is to the abyss, forcing the
creature upward,
rounding spiraled stair
Behind it I glimpse the gilded gates of
home
Behind me icy wind whispers around my
neck
My strength is failing, my steps
falter,
weary tears blind me
The beast roars
And in sudden fury I roar in reply
The gates swing open
I force the beast back once more with
the last of my will
It staggers on the mirrored courtyard
Whimpers and shrivels,
A gnat I can crush with my heel
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Do Not Doubt
I am weak,
Helpless
Mewling on the floor
Pain overwhelming
Feeling
Invisible
Forgotten
Alone
Have you left me too?
Followed the others?
You promised you never would
One thing I know
Absolute
Your word is true
Rocksolid
If I stop flailing;
Hurt, angry,
afraid-
You will be there,
Holding me near
Whispering comfort and assurance-
Do not doubt,
do not doubt
Monday, February 3, 2014
Every Once in a While
I have been far too silent now, for far too long. I do not know why; sometimes the Muse is silent, and the longer I go without putting pen to page the harder it is to begin again. I have determined to try to change that once again.
Yesterday was my birthday. Number forty six. I look in the mirror & confess some days I see every year, but more often than not it is the girl I used to be staring back at me; unsure, but young & filled with dreams & hope that those dreams might come true. And sometimes both of us are there, the ingénue and the disillusioned, wounded soul, denying fear & doubt.
My oldest (that is most long standing, she is four months my junior, a fact she likes to underline as we mark the passing years) friend and I had lunch last week to celebrate and the gift she gave me was marked with the phrase "A friend is someone who knows your heart's song & sings it to you when you forget the words." I have to wonder, looking back just how many times we have sung to each other, and how many more times we will. Friends like this are rare & beautiful treasures, and she reminded me with her gifts, which included note paper, of my gift, of the song I am supposed to be singing. I wrote this as a thank you, and joined a FaceBook group dedicated to "30 Days of Hustle" determined to figure out how to make the dream a reality. Part of that pledge is to write here & post more.
Every once in a while
comes someone who knows your heartsong
The melody of friendshiplove played in perfect harmony
Each note unheard before
still somehow just right
Reaching through sorrow
a
healing lullaby
in joy sharing exultation
Standing firm shoulder to shoulder lifting battle cry
Love pure as untouched fields
snow
glistening in the brilliant sun
sweet & reaffirming
rainbow
arcing through thunderclouds
sure and steady as
the setting and the rising sun
the sky painted a riotous song of colour
Never
twice the same and yet unchanging
the paean of the universe, the opus of the wind