This, That, and the Other

I wake up. The day feels like a normal day. I start to get ready, get the kids dressed, prepare my primary lesson, get breakfast, and then without any warning the day takes an unexpected turn. And even though I think it's going alright, nothing I think is going to happen happens.

That was yesterday.

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was wanderlust. Maybe I'm just tired of living next to a cocaine selling operation.Whatever it was, it tasted an awe-full lot like freedom. This is what it looked like.

This is sort of what it will look like in two years or so:

But with something like this...right in the middle.

Made with a few of these.

  

But until then, I guess I'll just enjoy a little bit of This. 

And a little of That...












And even though some might consider the events of the day useless, even a total disaster, somehow it turned into the most extraordinary day I can remember in a very very long time.

My Green Goddesses. I of III

Okay, please forgive me but I seem to have a blug in my eye, and it goes away every time I sit down to blog about something. So naturally, this is the only place I want to be.

There is a very small story behind this. And because I love and miss my cooking muse, I'll just share it with you. Eight? No, Nine? No, Nine and a half years ago, someone I love came to visit me in my old yellow house on K Street. We took long walks, theorized about our futures, shopped estate sales like only two kindred spirits separated before birth can shop. Oh, and we made good food. I don't remember exactly how it came about, but there were some potatoes, some sweet red bell peppers and onions and somehow Ivy showed up with a bottle of something that can only be described by its name: Annies Goddess Dressing. And that my friends is the end of the story.  

Since the first Goddess incident, Ivy has played a part in my finding more goddesses of dressings to add to my repertoire of flavors. But these ones I make in my kitchen and they evolve constantly.

I bless the day I found the first green goddess. She came to me in the form of a google search for something to use up ridiculous amount of yogurt and spinach. Here is the link to resulting page. But I've changed my recipe quite a bit until I come to today. I haven't made this in a while due to a terrible accident with my blender the last time I tried. It was a sad end for my blender, but it paved the way for something infinitely more useful: my food processor.  When I had finished throwing it together today and tasted it, the exact words that came out of my mouth with no rehearsal were, "This is to die for".

So here goes. May I never forget the exact ingredients involved in this celestial concoction.



Annapurna Spinach Guacamole

2 medium avocado
2/3 c plain yogurt
2 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp red pepper
4 or more huge fists of fresh spinach

There isn't much to be said for my method here. It's just as you see it. Put the first 6 ingredients into your bowl, process or blend until smooth. Then stuff it with as much spinach as your blender or food processor will hold and process until smooth. With a blender, you may have to push the spinach down two or three times to get it all blended in. It will go, I promise. But push it down while the blender is stopped, if you want to avoid a horrendous and possibly lethal accident.     

 

This recipe is both kid friendly and makes friendly kids.

This is my terribly picky eater, she happens to love most things with avocado. It's what keeps her alive.

Yes, She did go back again and again and again.

Now I just have to try not to make it too often, lest she get sick of it and never touch spinach again.

Just a thought. Do you like a certain food more depending on it's color? I seem to gravitate toward foods that are green orange and brown, also my favorite colors.

Foodie Friday: Whole Wheat Pear Biscuits:

I must take a break. Even though I am just two steps away from being finished with the longest project in the history of my living room table (saying something major) I must stop for more than a moment and... blog.

It's about time I shared a recipe and It just so happens that I have invented the easiest best Yerba Mate drinking tea biscuit of all time. It also happens to be healthy. If you know me, you might guess I don't shy away from fats, but I do try to use whole grains. When it comes to biscuits, I am traditionally a cut in the butter kind of girl. But it just so happens that this recipe could be made practically fat free. These are general guidelines, not a formal recipe because well, I made it up. But follow them and you can't go wrong. I haven't yet since I started making them. The only thing that makes it not completely accessible is that it really should be made in a food processor. However you can also cut the pear by hand into very small pieces and mix it in with your hands or a mixer.

In twenty five minutes you will be eating a scrumptious bites of pear hinted sweetness. Here comes.....

Whole Wheat Pear Biscuits:

1 cup whole wheat flour (or white, or half and half, whatever)

3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 Pear (hard pears work great)
1/2 cup cottage cheese
sour cream or yogurt for basting top
demerara for generous sprinkling

preheat your oven to 375 F

I actually recommend at least doubling this recipe. Your food processor may be able to handle quadrupling it, but it all depends on how many people are hanging around your kitchen today, if you want them scarfed down or if you want a few for later.

Simply mix your flour, baking soda and salt with a fork, then throw your pear in (cut into rough pieces), pulse your food processor until the mixture is the texture of wet sand with no big pieces. spoon in the cottage cheese and process JUST until it is one sticky mass with visible pieces of cheese curd. Flour table top, throw your dough on the table and sprinkle with enough flour to be able to touch it without coming away a sticky mess. The dough will be very sticky, this is good.

Flour your roller, flour your dough and roll to 1/4 to 1/3 inch thick. Brush sour cream or yogurt generously over the top of your dough patty. Sprinkle demerara generously over the top of your creamy brushed substance. The only way you can go wrong with this step is by not putting enough creamy mixture or not sprinkling enough sugar. Key word, generous. the worst that could happen is it takes longer to cook because of the moisture in your creamy white stuff. Cut roughly into 1 1/2 to 2 inch squares, triangles, whatever shape fits your fancy, just make sure they are roughly the same size so they cook at the same rate. I love a rustic plate of grab-me-edibles. The sprinkled sugar looks fantastic if you sprinkle it on in stripes.

Line a baking sheet, pizza sheet, whatever your redneck kitchen affords, with parchment paper.  You can of course, always grease it. But recently I've discovered how wonderfully simple parchment paper is and am kind of addicted. Lay your biscuits in your pan and stick in your hot oven for about 15, maybe 20 minutes. You'll know that they are done when you can BARELY see color on the bottom. If in doubt, pick one up, hot off the pan and look. You don't want these to brown more than a tiny tiny bit or they'll lose their moist, soft scrumptiousness. I hope you and yours enjoy them as much as me and mine.

Just a thought: These would be Awesome with blueberries or lemon zest mixed in with the cottage cheese. 

If you're looking for other even more simple, yet awesome tea biscuits, check out my Cuñada's blog evymundo.blogspot.com. Oh, what? you don't speak Spanish? Just use Google translate!

Smile if you like food and eat it. 

Leafy Greens and Living Things

This shouldn't be too long. I don't think I have much of a ramble in me after such a long day. Maybe it's because it's January, maybe it's because I'm not in school, maybe it's because I miss important people in my life, I don't know, but lately I've felt like I'm just wandering around. I know that I have to do something important, but outside of being my kids Mom and being in a loving supportive relationship with my husband, I just don't know exactly what. Today though, even though I came home to tired kids and a tired husband, I feel rejuvinated. So in a general desire to write more, here I am; writing because I feel inspired.

I spent the day (yes, the whole darn day) with a bunch of people from all over the state and country who have one thing in common with me.  We all like leafy green living things.  There were presentations about trends in the industry, step by step instruction on techniques, lectures on the ideals of using certain plants over others, and lots and lots of pictures of plants with long Latin names. And even though I got really sleepy at one point in the afternoon, it was heavenly. Not because every moment was bliss, but because I felt little glimpses throughout the day of myself and what I want.

I think I've spent the last five years lamenting over wanting something that is outside of my reach. Thinking and dreaming about the day I would go back to it, feel it in my fingers and smell it. And I've spent the last year figuring out that I might want something else too. Today was a turning point for me because I finally realized that I really really want it. I saw myself where I want to be and I liked it. I want it so bad that I'm willing to put myself in very uncomfortable situations and do really really hard mental and emotional things in order to get there. And what's more, I like the people who are there doing it.

Not too bad for a days work, eh?
Good Night.

Music, Language, Food, Nature, Art.

As I contemplate Ada's life with me as her Mother, I've stressed about one thing more than others:

How will I teach her? 

Recently I've started to realize that this, in my case, is the wrong question. Right now in Ada's Life I see in her one persistent revolving trait. She wants to be like me.

Is it normal that it's taken me this long to figure this out? 

About a year ago when I started to do home school related activities, I tried to come up with a lot of crazy ways that I could teach Ada things. First and foremost, her letters. Ada had been drawing on our walls since she realized that pencils and pens make marks and recently she had moved to drawing squiggly horizontal lines. I made an awesome magnetic chalk board to fiddle with. And the kitchen was constantly filled with Sesame Street Alphabet songs (I may or may not know all of them by heart). All these things told me it was time to play with drawing the letters. So we talked about A for Ada. We started playing, me drawing the upward and downward slopes, she finishing with bar across. It didn't take very long until she was drawing A on everything and pointing out every A and drawing the cross bar on any letter or image with a triangle without a cross bar, thus making it into an A. We went on to D, so we could write her name and U because I thought it would be a good idea to make a word that she would know. UVA, Ada's then favorite fruit.

Then something happened. Ada no longer liked drawing letters. Everytime I moved to the chalk, Ada would run away because she didn't want to do that. She was past it. She knew how to draw her A and she was done. She didn't even want to sing the fun monster songs very much anymore.


It seems like this happened every time I have came up with a brilliant idea for how we could get from one leapfrog of learning to the next. Ada eventually rejects what it is she's being taught.  From drawing letters to pushing shapes through holes, to dressing herself and potty training.

The best piece of advice I was ever given was from my sister of five children. Not all of them were potty trained perfectly. She certainly had her share of struggles in that area, which is why I knew she knew the difference. On the subject of potty training, she told me simply, do not pressure them.  Somehow I was able to leave the pressure out of potty training, but Ada could feel it in other aspects of my mothering. She could feel it simply because it was there. I wanted her to learn those things. I spent a lot of energy everyday trying to incorporate learning modules into the fun things we did, and the not so fun things. Somehow I let slip how important it was to me that Ada learn these things. But being a three year old, the only thing Ada wanted to do was play.

We tried going to a play group to see if she wanted to play with learning games with other kids, we even hosted it at our house a few times and I loved the other women that taught it and seeing how their kids reacted to structured learning. They and their children are the kind of people who probably do well in public school because they have such amazing Mothers. But every time we would go, Ada was much more interested in the toys and exploring the house than she was with the organized play that was taking place between the teacher and the other kids. So play she did. I have gradually done less and less of those semi structured activities and for a long time I've felt guilty about not doing them. And so my question, word by word, flies out the window until only this is left:  

How will I teach her?

I've accepted the fact that my way of teaching, the way I've always thought worked well, always gave me success with kids, was flawed. I recently read something in The Big Book of Unschooling, by Sandra Dodd, about the nature of learning and how learning requires only one person. Teaching, in fact, only requires one person, and does not guarantee learning, if you happen to have a pupil. I understand that if I am to parent this independent minded child, there's not necessarily teaching involved. What I need to do is facilitate learning. To do that I need to think about who Ada is and how she learns, how she enjoys life, what does she want?

Do As I'm Doing.

Another thing that happened last year was that I joined a book club.  I decided that if I wanted Ada to want to read, she needed to see how much I loved reading; as in Books. After all, what I do on the computer isn't reading. I push buttons, the buttons make sounds and there are pictures that become videos for her to watch. Books though, as I intentionally read books in front of her, text books, novels, nonfiction, poetry, suddenly I saw a flame in her mind as she brought up her own books from her room to 'read' while I read mine lounging on the couch.

Helping Hands

One of Ada's very first words was Help. Help, by throwing random sometimes edible things into the mixing bowl. Help by chopping the Lettuce. I've  gotten better at letting her help as well as organizing my kitchen and work space so it can be accessible and safe for her, so I don't have to tell her no when that's what she wants to do. I often find her, when the house feels too quiet, standing on her stool cutting a random vegetable she has retrieved from the fridge or pouring her cup of milk into the sugar and mixing it around very methodically, with an intense look of 'I'm doing something important' on her face.

Another thing that Ada has shown an outward interest in doing is something we do as a family at least once a week. I have a basket in our living room that is full of sound makers. Shakers, a bongo drum, harmonica, all beaten up and/or passed along from the thrift store, but in perfect working order. We can all be happy making nose on the shakers and tambourines until we pull the guitar out. It was given me by the most dearest of friends and I have over the years learned a few tunes. I don't play as much as I'd like and every time I do, I end up going to the same few songs that I already know well and it's a family event. Which means it doesn't take long before someone is hurt because the other is playing the guitar and Mom and Dad are busy trying to keep the guitar in one piece.

Yesterday at the store Ariel took the kids to the toy section while I went to the fabric. Ada found a guitar. In fact, she refused to leave the guitar on the shelf. Every one of the ten times we put the guitar back, she snuck back to retreive it and contantly made sure it was STILL in the cart. We didn't buy it. Then last night we were playing drums and dancing around like the fools we are, when Ada asked to get the guitar out. I played a bit, Ariel played a bit and then Ada sat down on on a short seat with her legs at just the right angle to allow her small arms over the guitar. She started to play and sing. Not words, not a tune, but a song; music. So sad my camera was out of batteries. It was sublime, I tell you. 

Other things Ada loves are wearing dresses with pretty bows, flowers, sewing with me, pretending with her dolls, cutting hair, digging in dirt, pulling leaves off plants, Painting, Taking Molly for walks and throwing the ball, and lots of other fun three year old things.


So this is Ada's curriculum over the next year, give or take, change or not, depending on her wishes. Singing and playing the guitar, Making a dress with Mama, Helping Mama cook, Nature Walks, Painting (sometimes structured, sometimes not) Quiet time in her room with Mama reading to her while she plays, as long as she is happy. 

This is Mama's curriculum over the next year: Find Ada a guitar, Read books aloud to Ada and Nahuel and let Ada and Nahuel see me enjoy my own books. Go to the library, let them choose out their own books. Play the guitar more, with Ada and Nahuel. Take nature walks and go camping more often. Enjoy the garden, set apart a garden plot for Ada and Nahuel to sow seeds and water them and watch things grow.. Sew Ada lots of pretty things and let Ada help. 

Take the Pledge

It's no news that I am somewhat of a novice at this whole blog thing. Even though I've been sharing random thoughts for the last two+ years (that long?). I still don't know what I am doing, but I still feel a need on a constant basis to find like minded people and share bits and pieces of myself. Today, by following the foot prints of things that I feel connected to over the blog waves, I came across something that I thought worth sharing. I think sometimes about the things I could blog if I weren't as insecure as I am.

Insecure? Me? I often feel that everything I write is just plain crazy. No one has yet to actually tell me that it is. But I guess that's all part of being insecure. It doesn't matter how much reassurance you get, you don't believe it.

Why am I insecure? I have a loving husband who adores my muffin top and my breastfeeding parts and my random need to climb a tree in the middle of a thunderstorm or get out of bed in the middle of the night just to write something down that won't leave my head. I don't know. Maybe because I watched too many kids get laughed at as a kid, maybe because I rarely felt like I had a real friend growing up? I count those things as blessings. But I believe they gave me a general mistrust of peoples intentions in social realms.Which is why I love so much when I find someone, by some blessed coincidence, that I connect with; why I look here and there and everywhere for people that I might find those blessed coincidences with.

What I found tonight was nothing more than a place where I feel safe. A place that lays down the rules for safe social engagement, over the internet, between women. We women, I believe, mistrust each other more than we like to admit (admit it). But this link made me think...maybe if there were a level playing field and I thought that even if people do think I'm crazy, they'll try to understand my craziness, I might just feel more free to be the crazy person that I am and love.

If you like to feel free about being the crazy person that you are too, go HERE and make a pledge to be a humane participant of this powerful tool for people to connect across spaces. You can also grab the button on the bottom right of this page.

Coming Out

I'd like to share a dream, an itch. A reoccurring thought that nurtures and inspires other dreams while weaving it's way through me, making itself into my future. The first time I remember making sense of it I was a kid 'playing' with my girl friend Megan from across the street. I don't remember how old I was, I only remember the topic of conversation and the look of the light on the cement walls of my basement, sheets hung as partitions separating the play area from my Mom's work area, and sitting daydreaming about my future. The subject of conversation was 'if we could live anywhere we wanted...'

Of course the dream has changed since I was a kid. I use to want stables and horses and the whole idea was based on my vague idea of living on a ranch. There were animals in pastures and growing things and trees lining the whole of it. It's all still there, in my imagination, but now there are structures and more useful animals. And there are other things too. Like for example...People. More specifically...Kids. Now the nut shell of the life I want is this: A piece of land where the earth gives me what I need to grow a family and grow old with the ones that I love.

Ariel was born to some of the richest soils on the earth. A year round growing season for some of my favorite plants including but not limited to Eggplants. The climate, other than this unprecidented drought year, is perfect for entertaining my pastoral daydreams. This and the constant smell of the rain just on the edge of the next wisp of grey cloud, helped me to love that soil, those sunsets, the eucalyptus that give the horizon contour. Living on the outskirts of a small city on la pampa, I imagined my life with a few kids and some close friends on a plot of land far from civilization. I imagined a place secluded from most Argentine reality, so far from people that might take advantage of us and our North American capitalist roots that we would be forced to make a way for ourselves on the land. Of course we would need no forcing, this is part of the dream.

I dreamt about how we would meet a lot of our needs. Our need for an energy source: solar, wind, hydro; our food needs: seeds, greenhouses, root cellars, clean water. The most enjoyable needs to daydream about were how we would bring up those five beautiful children that we wanted. I had planned out a structure. It was simple, rustic; with strong bones and wide open spaces. Reading nooks and learning spaces with a little winding staircase that led to a star observatory on the roof. Chairs you could melt into a book with and tables with running water and art spaces. It was my version of what people straight out of a Charlotte Bronte novel would have done for being educated. With a little guidance and discipline combined with the natural processes of human curiosity and the world around them. Of course it was based on a firm spiritual belief that being close to nature would spark a flame and a curiosity for life that isn't found by spending your life in the suburbs, in public school, as I was. I had brief moments of fire-fed learning and growing, academically. But I think I've always recognized that the system I was educated in was stifling. I knew that few saw in me what I saw in myself and I bleieved that eventually I would figure out how to pull it out of myself on my own. I'm still trying. And sometimes I can't say I have the remotest idea how.   

And now I find that reality puts me far from that dream. But there's one piece that I follow still. Of course I haven't given up the idea of homesteading somewhere. After school, after Ariel finishes his quest to feel realized in some professional capacity, haven proved himself in two worlds, two languages, two cultures. But, after living in my current situation for more than five years, I've realized that there is no reason to wait for a lot of those things until I live in some pastoral paradise.

And as my children, who finally came, grow, I realize that this is one part of my dream that I need to cling to more than ever. They grow, they change, they learn new words and attitudes. The people that they are, regardless of the setting, show more and more color. With the culture of our family, what we choose to bring forward out of our own experiences as humans and children, I see a great need to let my children decide for themselves what they want to learn and how. I don't know what I've done to them to make them this way, but they are both highly suspicious of me. It just doesn't work to present something to them and say 'here, learn this' or 'come on don't you think this is interesting and fun, I do, don't you?' I know my kids and I know it doesn't work. So I guess this is a coming out of sorts. This isn't a subject I talk about very much, I guess I don't like having to explain myself when the inevitable doubtful questions come. I don't think that this is new for anyone I know, or who know me.  But it's stronger in this suburban ghetto than it's ever been in my romantic imaginings of cleaner air and more plentiful soil. When I imagine myself, when I imagine my kids, who are still young, I know that there is one thing that has always been the same.

My two oldest will have to suffer through a kitchen table and a back yard farm in the suburbs for a school house. I'm still trying to work out the details. I'll follow my own rugged way and I may have my eyes blindfolded half the time walking forward with faith, but one thing is for certain: I Am a Home Schooler. 

Common Thread

This month is full of Birthdays in my family. My nephew Marco is the latest contender for January's terminally cute baby award for the family. Born on the last day of the month, it's possible that he'll be beaten out by the next little Higbee, still in a little tummy. Then there's my brother David, his dad, the absolutely driven and gifted musician and linguist (listen to his latest digs HERE) born on the 28th. Then we come to the elvenly child Janessa, immortalized in her infancy with her sprightly infectious personality, voice, and smoulder that could all, individually, put both Justin Bieber and Flynn Rider in fits.  Lastly we come to two individuals who led the way for me in music, art, literature and self discovery through my adolescence. Born on the same day, they share much more than a common birth date and the same first and last initials; Mark and Melanie were born on the 5th. Though it's hard, and some may argue wrong, to put a label on a person in terms of their value, I can't help but place these two very high on the scale of valuable people in my life. Melanie was the friend that I always had and Mark, he was just incredibly, simply and unforgettably Mark. The best of all of us put together with the demons none of us like to imagine in ourselves, waging war.

So what do all of these people have in common other than the fact that they are all important people in the grand scheme of one redneck little life, and that they all share the month of January to be born into this world? They share something that I think about whenever the issue of health comes up in relationship to my children. They share a Grandfather and Great Grandfather who were both plagued by a disease that has no cure and no reliable treatment. They share Genetics. They share the possibility that one day they or their children could be diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis.

It's a disease that a lot of people have never heard of, so if you're wondering why I sound so grave in talking about it, it's because I attribute this disease in large part to my brother's death 5 1/2 years ago. It was the coat of arms, if you will, of the opposing army in Marks war.  I can't claim to understand everything that this disease is. It can be a lot of different things. As far as I know my Grandfather didn't have a particularly bad case. I knew when he was alive that his kidneys gave him some trouble, but I never heard about ulcerative colitis until after he was gone. Mark's case though, was debilitating, uncomfortable, embarrassing, and ultimately handicapped his sense of happiness.

I am most certainly not a scientist. So this is, in simpletons terms, what Ulcerative Colitis is. A disease that affects the colon, the part of your digestive system that absorbs vitamins and minerals from the food you eat. Imagine the inside of a tube with holes burned through it (ulcers) all over. That tube is suppose to make your food into a feel good center of your body as it is processed and sends your cells the things they need to work right. But if it's covered in ulcers, it absorbs lots of other nasty things that are in most of the food supply in this country and makes it so you don't feel good. If you can't find a way to heal the burns(ulcers) in the tube, they get inflamed and bleed. I've heard that the discomfort from these ulcers can be worse than birthing pains. Now there's something I understand. I've been there. But one of the things that makes childbirth wonderful and beautiful and bearable, is that whatever pain you feel will eventually be over. With Ulcerative Colitis, not so.  I try to imagine feeling labor pains every day for prolonged periods of time and I start to imagine a little bit what Marks life was like. What was it like while he served and completed a two year, full time mission, teaching about Jesus Christ; while he worked his way through college, finally having to quit because he was too sick? Really, I can't begin to imagine.

One of these days someone will write a thorough account of all of the events of Marks Life, including the drugs and events that led to his diagnosis of this disease, and the drugs and events that led up to his accidental suicide in August of 2006. I don't think anyone yet has the strength to do that. Because Marks life was, as I mentioned earlier, not a common life.  But writing this post was not that attempt. I simply found something that made me think and remember. It was this article about a possible link between infant antibiotics and ulcerative colitis. It reminds me of how much I doubt our current money making health care system. How much I doubt whenever a doctor tells me something, because even though they know a lot, they have also been educated by the same system that makes billions of dollars per year with insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies. Ariel works for the biggest health care company in the west and has worked for others. I've received free samples of prenatal vitamins, free samples of pain killers and allergy medication. I've eaten lavish lunches provided for doctors by what my husband terms jokingly "drug dealers".  My doctors have given me labor and delivery tutorial books that are written by people who promote a one sided medical view of what I've learned for myself is not a medical trauma. And who makes money off of it? They do. How often are we being told that a drug that we've relied on for years is no longer deemed safe? My point is this, if you don't feel completely comfortable with the advice your practicing physician has to offer, get a second opinion. Get a third opinion. And go someplace else to get it, other than your insurance covered doctors office. There's another kid of doctor who doesn't make nearly as much money at what he does and is still a respected health professional. It's called a naturepathic doctor. They can give you a different way of looking at the health problems that you have that won't involve risky drugs you may learn down the road were not as thoroughly studied as you believed.

I'm not trying to downplay the role of modern medicine. I recognize its value in prolonging my grandmothers life from the 54 years that her father lived, to the 83 she enjoyed. But there are too many doctors who will prescribe an antibiotic without even checking to see if it's a biotic problem you have. I have yet to hear a doctor tell me that my body can probably whip a bug all by itself if I take care of it by getting rest and giving it time, that's an infection I'm talking about(yes, it happens every day). Not to mention the recent study by the University of Utah that found that pediatricians write more than 10 million prescriptions for unnecessary antibiotics every year(for Children). It's easy to find the information. I don't claim to be very studious. Just Google 'unnecessary antibiotics'.

The fact that Ulcerative Colitis is a hereditary disease gives me some idea that it isn't ONLY the medical system that's going south. But I have to wonder if my brother was prescribed an antibiotic in the first year of his life. What was it that made him so much more susceptible to it that I am(still healthy as an ox). Either way I take from my wanderings and long winded ramblings that my children are going to eat better and live better than my generation. I call it the Right of a Wife or Mother to choose for my family in an effort of preservation to control this one element as much as I can. And I'm grateful that my children are Breastfed, Yogurt eaters who've never touched an antibiotic. My heart goes out to anyone who has been ill affected by them. 

After this post, I will officially be a Mommy Blogger. I've never blogged about my kids more than a word here and there and a few images. But I have to say that I am really in Love with the stages that they're in right now. Nahuel is so tender and sensitive and I love the way that he needs me. But his affection has expanded lately. Being a nursing Mamma's boy it's only natural that his attachment to me is stronger, but lately he shows more the need for his Papa's gentleness. He also gets more mischievous by the hour. Anything that can be strewn across the floor will be.  We've been busy securing all furniture and seeking out hiding places because everything is either a ladder or a hide out for more trouble.

Ada lives more in her own imaginative world every time I look at her, but more so when I've just tied a bow in the back of her dress. Ada is very particular about dresses. A dress is not a dress unless is is ankle length, soft, flowy and has some ruffles with a long sash that ties in the back. This is convenient since her Grandmother is a dressmaker and has volumes worth of sewing wisdom for her mother. I intend to take advantage fully of this feminine tendency of Ada's, being a lover of dresses myself, but by no means a prompter of this creative glitch, uniquely hers. I outgrew my Mothers good taste when I was about 12 and ever since have been trying to master the art of figuring out how to make whatever it is I want with dollar-a-yard fabric and no zippers, buttons, or any special stitches or feet. Sometimes I feel bad for her because she doesn't have a Mother who will teach her the wiles of womanhood. I paint my nails about once a year. I love to wear dresses with tennis shoes, I brush my hair about once a month. That's not to say I don't look in the mirror, but using a brush for more than my teeth is definitely not in my daily routine. (Actually Ariel gave Ada and I an assortment of brushes for Christmas because we didn't have any, anymore...)

My favorite part about when Ada wears a dress is the look on her face just after she finishes putting it on. As soon as it registers in her mind that she is wearing a dress A hazed almost drugged look floods her eyes as she focuses on some image in her mind of I wish I knew what and where...Sometimes she spreads her fingers out and runs them down the length of the skirt until her fingers no longer reach and then flips them out and twirls. Often she wanders around in a daze or just sits there for a few minutes and it's useless to talk to her because she is in a very far away place. Only when you clap in front of her face or catch her eye with something flashy and pretty does she look at you and giggle, not because she has been woken into this reality, but because you have suddenly become part of what she is imagining.


Last night we came home from a party where Ada's coat mysteriously disappeared, much to my annoyance. It wasn't very cold and wrapping my scarf around her neck was plenty to send her out into the air. When we arrived Ada and Nahuel ran off like they usually do to play their game of making Mama or Papa carry them into the house, stopping at the grapevine angel choir that lights up our house for the holidays. Ada said that the angels were cold and started to take off the scarf and wrap it around the neck of the angel at the front. At which time I ran inside to grab the camera and arrived just as she was putting the finishing touch on the scarf wrap.

I might add my children are obsessed with yard art. It if were up to them we'd have pinwheels and wishing wells and little statues of people all over. But alas I have not yet come to that place in my life, though I don't doubt that I will.  After the scarf was in place Ada stood and surveyed the scene and then walked up to the scarved figure and kissed the lighted being, walked to each one in turn, kissing them as well.

Some people are Huggers, some people prefer a good handshake at arms length and others a slight nod.  My Son is going through an identity crisis and is still figuring out what he is, but the rest of us here, we're Kissers.  It's one of the parts of Ariel's culture that I love most. Warm and inviting. When you walk into a gathering no matter how large or small, it's customary to walk around to each individual and kiss them a hello. It's a custom that breaks the ice, helps you to meat new people. After all, if you're in the same gathering, you must have something in common and there's an unconscious part of it that is validating. Obviously if I'm clean, good, pretty, human, enough to be kissed then I'm doing something right. I've mostly learned where to kiss and where not to kiss, but sometimes I go into kissing mode and kiss people that most definitely don't understand why I would do such a thing. Of course it's not necessarily a real kiss and my lips don't necessarily actually touch your cheek or any other part of your skin. It's a greeting that is cherished in hundreds of cultures around the globe and I feel that it helps people feel more connected. Once you've kissed someone there's no going back. It doesn't matter whether you are the same or agree or even like each other, you can deal with each other on civil terms.

Language is a key topic in our household, not just because my kids are learning what it is, but because we have a bilingual home and both languages are constantly growing and taking shape in one or the other of Ariel and I. Because of this Ada, though three, doesn't talk very much. Actually I don't know very many other three year old children very well. Maybe they don't talk very much either, but Ada is smart enough in every other way that I'm not worried about how she'll grasp it or when. She understands completely every word in both languages, she just doesn't say all of them yet. However with every other way of communicating Ada is a master.

All of these things combined make this figurative moment very important in how I view Ada and Nahuel and Mothering them in this place in our lives. Imaginative, sensitive to others needs, affectionate, playful. I can't claim to have researched every part of every stage of development that my kids will ever go through. All I know is that they are unique and beautiful. I believe that the nature of being human contains a self-propelled need to grow and change; experiment until you get something right and then move on to the next stage. I feel, in very simplified terms, that if I feed the need they'll make their own choices about what makes them happy and what they need to learn and will be at a great advantage having figured out how to learn early in life, something that I'm still figuring out.

I guess in a way this is my New Years resolution. In the last year I've been too distracted from what changes my kids are making. They are at a critical stage in their figuring out how to be people. Along with dog training and personal training and expanding my gardening skills and area are my kids. One important goal as I go into a new phase of Motherhood is to come up with a solid yet flexible plan to help my children to learn who they are, including reading and writing and enjoying simple things that will form them into anything but simple.

Happy New Year!

Holy Crud. I've had so many things to blog about in the last months. But most of them were Christmas related and the clock just never stopped tick tick ticking. Now it's all over Oh, alright, we still have two actual Holiday's left. But it seems very anticlimactic to share anything that might no help until oh, next Christmas. But I just have to share this one. I only wish that I'd taken more pictures...

As usual I went looking on the web for something I wanted to do to see if anybody had done it. And they hadn't. Something similar yes, but not the same and you just never know if what you're going to do will turn out, especially if no one paves the way with a tutorial beforehand. I was intending this to be the only thing I gave to most of my family, which is a LOT of people when you add it all up. In other words I needed to make sure they were good and that I didn't waste the whole lot without it turning out well. Here's what I made...

I call them , Cocosinalmonish Delight. I imagine that in the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Evil Winter Queen gave Edmond something like this...Yes I know what she really gave him.

I guess it's time to explain one of my kitchen quirks...I (almost) only use one kind of sugar. I use other natural sweeteners, but as for sugar, I tend to stick with demerara. I have been persuaded in the past by some unmentionables, that sugar was an evil evil thing and I tend to agree. But I like to think that by using something in it's raw and unrefined form, I'm doing myself and my family a favor. It drives Ariel crazy (every once in a while he shows up with a bag of white sugar), but he has adjusted to drinking mate with it (I have yet to persuade him to use agave syrup, which is my next evil conniving plan), which is the most important thing in our house.  But the problem I find is that without enough moisture to disolve the large crystals of demerara, whatever I make comes out a little too sugary. Delicious. But the one thing I might change about this recipe is the Demerara. I think next time I'll try blending it in a dry blender to break the crystals down more, or YOU could just use white sugar as was in the closest original recipe found here. You COULD use their recipe. But then you wouldn't know how wonderful my magic ingredient is.

So the journey to this recipe included at least three different tries, one was made with maple syrup and wasn't nearly flavorful or sweet enough (scratched completely), one I forgot to add the magic ingredient, and the last was ALmost perfect.  

Here is the recipe

Cocosinalmonish Delight

2 Egg Whites, 

4 Tbsp vanilla extract

4 cups raw almonds

2/3 cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp salt

2/3 c dry unsweetened shredded coconut

Very simple to make, combine dry ingredients in one bowl(minus almonds. In a larger mixing bowl beat egg whites until frothy but not stiff. This is very important. Definitely the touchiest part of the recipe. The egg white are used to bind the sugars and other ingredients together, if it is too stiff, the egg whites won't want to stick to the nuts and you'll have a crumbly but delicious mess. If you want a dryer powdery nut instead of a golden crisp nut use another egg white or two as in picture just above. When you've frothed the egg whites, add the vanilla, Do Not Forget To Add the Vanilla. I believe at some point I did a small batch with no vanilla, There was a severe flavor deficit. 
Now add the almonds, stir them into the egg white mixture until everything is evenly coated. 
Now pour in the dry coating. Stir again until everything is evenly coated. 
Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. spread them out evenly not allowing them to touch too much on the paper. You may have to use multiple baking sheets or mulitple oven sessions to finish them all, It's important to keep them evenly spread out on the pan, so NO CRAMMING! 
Allow them to cool before breaking apart and bagging. A fun wrapping idea that will save you wrapping paper: use parchment paper instead and tie it with some twine. I loosely line small baskets with parchment paper and filled them. 

If you haven't figured out what my magical ingredient is, it's coconut.

 

ENJOY!!!!

A breath of fresh air is when you FEEL spontaneous and in the same instance are able to BE spontaneous. 

Sundays I usually put my kids down for a sabbath movie a couple hours before we leave for Church. If it's calm enough it helps my son take a nap and my daughter relax a little while before we tackle church, which is no small task for a Mother, especially when she has no husband with her that day. Which brings me to this moment. 

My mind is alight with thoughts and inspirations that come to me on wings of songs. Songs that help me remember the simple parts of me that I want to see more frequently. It is no small coincidence that I feel this way today.  This week has been busier and more stressful than usual. My husband and I both finished semesters in our respective fields of study, putting an end to the last few weeks of constant movie watching for my kids. In some small way, I think maybe it has helped. I wish I was the kind of person whose children didn't like to watch whatever presents itself on that screen in front of them. But Motherhood has afforded me that one occupation for my children when I need to do something with out small hands in between wanting to share in the fun. After the last few weeks my kids will probably not ASK to watch a movie in quite some time. And I hope not to ask it of them. 

Wings of song bring me the voice of one calming female whose voice rings of things real, spontaneous and self reflective. Things of the heart that usually aren't open for everyone on facebook to see. Well, my heart anyway. And while this semester has brought me closer to a lot of things that I want for myself, knowledge of things close to my core, I am tired. My kids are tired and growing and need more of their Mother.  So next semester I won't be in school. Not that it's a terribly lot of time I spend there, just two nights a week. It's been great for them to have more time with their Papa and depend on HIM more. To hear bedtime stories from HIM, have HIM make them dinner which they will not eat and bathe them and clean their room with them, because he usually works in the evening and those aren't the kind of things he usually gets to do with them. I won't deny that it's been really good for me too. But now is a convenient break and a change of winds. 

Do you ever have that feeling that things are about to change. And you don't know how or when, or maybe you just don't recognize that they already have? and every breath is tainted with just a little more excitement for what's next, but also the moment you're in becomes clearer and more joyfilled. Do you get that? It's a flavor thing, but one from the sixth sense of happiness, the one just out of my peripheral thought spectrum.

So I set out in this post to write about some of the things I want for the future. Because I know that changes in our lives are not usually predictable, but I like to think that I have SOME sense of control and it would clear my head. I guess I'm getting a jump start on my new years resolution.  Maybe it's the fact that I'll have two nights and few more hours, normally spent studying per week, to be myself. Maybe it's that my husband might switch gears at work to a normal schedule with more hours and health benefits. Or maybe it's that I want to figure out if I'm really going to do this whole home school life. I could go on and on for days about maybe's. But the point is that even though there's nothing wrong with the way things have been for quite some time, there are a lot of things right that aren't as good as they could be. There's a sense of motivation that I feel at this moment that I want to remember when it goes. It tells me that if there were more sleep and exercise and reading, especially from very specific more sacred texts, then there would be more of me to read to my kids and garden and cook real food and basically everything else that I never feel like I have the energy to do because there's too much laundry to fold or the dishes just keep piling up...

And that's it, in a nutshell.

A Tale of Two Pies

Here we go. Pumpkin Pies. You should know that I really did take this seriously before you read further. I am not a Scientist, but I do take Pies very seriously. There may be some places of necessary technicality or at least a little ramble hear and there. These are all ideas that have been ruminating in my head for a few years and I've finally found a useful purpose for them. Pumpkin pies generally consist of pumpkin filling and a crust, but then you probably know that. I have a go-to crust that I'll be using, which I'll give you the recipe for, but I really want to focus on getting the best pie filling from the pumpkin I can. I've selected a couple of recipes to try.

I mentioned before that I was on the watch to see if my pumpkins had frozen over yet. Well, they were nicely frozen last night when I went out to check on them, snow capped  from a storm a few days ago to be precise. But I recently learned a trick that my previously mentioned uncle uses to sweeten up his squash. Apparently he doesn't pick his Banana Squash until after the first frost. So unlike many other years, I left the pumpkins out. I wondered, but never moved them under my somewhat more sheltered car port. Last night I brought one inside and set it on the floor to thaw out. Today it is room temperature and solid as a rock, from that I know that there was no damage from the cold.



So I know that you need no detailed instructions on how to roast a pumpkin. If you do, these images should be more than enough instruction. And there is nothing wrong with your two year old periodically turning the oven off, it might just take twice as long. It doesn't take away from the fact that this is an experiment. I first scrubbed the paint off of the pumpkin. Actually I first took some pictures of the pumpkin. The apple is suppose to give you an idea of how big the pumpkin was. I tried to choose smaller pumpkins so that they would fit in my oven, but smaller fruits seem to always be somewhat more flavorful and some of the Jack-o-lanterns were truly Monstrous.

To start out, I scrubbed the paint off the surface of the pumpkin (Latex paint and Pumpkin Pie, not so much). I turned my oven on to 350 and placed a baking dish under the pumpkin to catch the liquids that will eventually seep out. 

I honestly can't remember how long I let that baby sit in the oven. It was at least 3 hours. But when I do this again in a few weeks, I'll let it sit longer. I use visual cues. Wait until the skin is darker  and more wrinkled than mine. A fork should poke through with no resistance and I mean NO resistance. The softer, the better. The longer it roasts, the more those sugars can carmelize. It seems like my oven was warmer toward the back, so I would rotate it once after a couple of hours.

Strip the skin off with a fork or knife. It falls away pretty easily. It was easy for me to work in sections stripping and slicing into the flesh.  This image really doesn't do it justice, but the flesh on this is two inches thick. I really thought that it was going to be a lot thinner and harder than it was. Just makes it that much sadder than all of this goes to waste so often.




You can see that the fruit is very stringy, but we'll just let our food processor work all that out for us. Cut into large chunks and process it until there are none left, till its nice and smooth. 
 

Drain it in a mesh strainer, seive or, even better, in cheese cloth.

Next for the filling. I found a recipe that calls for maple syrup and so I've used something from there.
However there were a few things that don't fit my taste. For one, I think spices should be considered as separate ingredients. Also My husband isn't real big on cinnamon; I on the other hand, love fresh ginger and we both love fresh grated nutmeg. Its a give and take thing. I also used whole fat plain yogurt instead of sour cream just because I ussually do when baking. So here's the final result for what's in recipe one:


Recipe I Pumpkin filling:

2 cups strained pumpkin puree
3/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 eggs
1/2 tsp cinnamon,
1 heaping tsp nutmeg
1 Tbsp fresh grated ginger

For the second recipe I am using my usual:

Recipe II Pumpkin Filling

3 eggs
2 cups strained pumpkin pie filling
3/4 c whole milk
3/4 c heavy cream
1/2 c demarara sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 Tbsp fresh grated ginger
1 heaping tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt


This part might have been helpful first, but since I'm assuming that you'll read through the whole recipe before trying it, that shouldn't be a problem. Just because the filling is meant to be sweet and soft and the main affair of a pie, does not in any way discount the wrapping. A crust is like the wrapping of a present. it can be of newspaper, brown paper bags or colorful satin textured super-wrap, but the wrapping of a present is important and adds to the over all effect of gift giving. If there is one thing in a bakers book I have  practiced and tried and experimented through and through, it is the pie crust. Like I've said before, dough is what I play with in lieu of a potters wheel and clay. And I learned alot of my techinique from a handy little (Big) book called JOY of Cooking. My coffee stained, bulging at the seems, steam warped copy is one of my prized kitchen possessions. If there was ever a book that shouts to the world the art and heritage of American Cooking it is Joy of Cooking. Get it. You'll never say nothing is uniquely American again. The recipe II Pumpkin filling above is taken from that The ingredients in this Deluxe Butter Flaky Pastry Dough, page 862 are as follows:

1 1/2 c all purpose flour
1 c whole wheat pastry flour
1 Tbsp powdered sugar
1 tsp salt
*mix* then cut in:
1/2 lb cold unsalted butter
1/4 c solid vegetable shortening.
add slowly
1/3 + 1 Tbsp Ice cold water and mix with your hands the minimum amount necessary to encorporate the water.

I Love this crust because it's soft and buttery. I should add that because I used part pastry flour, the recipe indicates that you should use 1/3 cup powdered sugar, but that's just too much sugar for me. So I actually used not quite 2 Tbsp. I know, big difference. The BIG trick is how you cut the fat with either a fork, two knives, or a mixture of both. (I've never had the luxury of a pastry knife.)Cutting the fat into the flour is key. Leave pea size pieces of butter intact. I 've also used a food processor wo mix my pie crust dough. It is tricky because the processor works so fast, but just remember to keep mixing to a minimum. Do the final kneading by hand into a ball. 

I also have to add a special disclaimer here in honor of my very best cooking friend and newly become sister and law (with which I had nothing to do) Ivy. My kitchen Library would be very sad without her generous donations over the years. On to pies:

As a last detail, the pies should be baked in the middle of the oven at 375 F.  give them about 40 minutes. But you'll know when the pie is ready to take out when it is still a little soft in the middle and moves just a little bit when you jiggle it. if it sloshes, not done. if if sways ever so slightly, it's probably done. Home cooking experiments are not an exact science and no matter how many descriptions I give you, nothing can take the place of your own practice.

Pie I

Recipe I Pumpkin Pie analysis:
Texture: Good, this sliced up better than the other,. The filling was nice and firm.
Crust: excellent Held together when cut, crumbled upon the touch of a fork.
Taste: Here's where I can tell the difference in my ingredients. This pie was not nearly as sweet as the other. Maple syrup is generally less sweet than sugar. Considering that the filling was plenty firm, It could stand some more maple syrup. But the general lack of sweetness was probably from this being made with a Jack O' lantern.

Pie II

Can you tell by the size of this picture, that I'm trying to place emphasis on this pie?


Recipe II Pumpkin Pie Analysis:
Texture: Good, not as firm as the first, but still good. There was 1 more egg in this recipe making it more custardlike. It was also in a smaller pan, making the filling thicker and it took longer to cook. I suspect that added to the softness of the filling.
Crust: Excellent. Not quite as pretty. But if you don't like a lot of crust this is a great way to do it.
Taste: The sweetness won me over. I Loved the ginger, but my husband thought it was too strong. So if you're not a hug ginger fan, use 1/2 Tbsp instead.

So there you have it. Two Pies. Two recipes, one pumpkin. And I would say that with the help of a food processor, there is no reason why an awesome pumpkin pie can not be made with a Jack O' lantern. but then, with some amount of determination..whatever, you knew I was going to say that....

Just Your Average Pumpkin...

Passionate things. Autumn is just a passionate time of year. Passion colors abound; oranges, reds, dark auburn and smooth subtle greys. I am passionate about Fall. It's the harvest, the rain, the cool weather, the need to snuggle up with someone warm, and the need to turn on the oven. I am not an expert baker. The technicalities of how exactly the baking soda works or the time required to fluff my egg whites perfectly before folding them into whatever it is I'm making, usually escapes me. But I love fall vegetables. I Love roasting them with olive oil and sea salt, Italian sausages, or chicken. I Love pureeing them and adding them to soups and breads and cookies.

I've been fortunate the last few years to be on the receiving end of other hard working gardeners spoils. For a long time it was my great uncle Lyman, in Logan, UT. He could feed a village, and does. They have in impressively large and healthy family and  from what I understand usually take a lot their excess harvest to the food bank. Now, I know it sounds silly and selfish, but the times I heard about them sending food to the food bank, it gaves me a very small twitch in my eye to think of the amazing produce I would not enjoy at their hands. However, we no longer live close enough that I can bum a box of produce whenever there is one. But... recently my parents acquired a healthy plot of land in the same bread-basket-soiled neighborhood. Now I have a new source for winter squash and potatoes. (Internal Hip. hip. Hooray!) Recently my mom brought down an enourmous banana squash. The walls of this beautiful beast were at least 3 inches thick. I made pumpkin pie and a large pot of pumpkin (banana squash) butter for the freezer. And yet my thirst for squash and the recent harvest of now frozen-over soil is not quenched. My garden didn't do too well this year and though I did get one impressive pumpkin out of it (are you impressed?), all I have to show for it is a shelf full of tomotoes ripening and a few cans in the basement food storage.

However there is one food that I have been saving, all decked out in weather proof paint. It sits outside my front gate to mark the coming of one of the great Autumn holidays, All Hallows Eve, long since gone. An egg carton filled with paint to mix and brushes to spare is about the max in free flowing decorating that my two and three year old can handle (or is it me?) We took it outside and enjoyed one of Octobers beautiful days when Aunt Kristin was here for a visit and lately I've been on the watch to see if it has frozen over too.

And it is...a Pumpkin. Not anything special. Not a sugar pumpkin or any kind of special supposedly flavorful sweet pumpkin. Just a pumpkin. I've read that these large hollow beasts are basically tasteless and I really don't want to hear about how you can't use them for baking or eat them, I've read that the seeds are good for roasting and that's about the extent of thier usefullness outside of carving and lighting up the porch for couple of hours. I've heard all that. You've heard all that. I can't think of one food related question I've heard more at this time of year than "Do I have to use a pie pumpkin to make pumpkin pie?" Or "What kind of pumpkin do I have to use to make a pumpkin pie?" or any number of the same question with varied wording. What it comes down to is this: There are four round orbs sitting outside that I would feel really really sad throwing away. It comes down to the fact that even though I'm reluctant to share the graciousness of my uncles artfully grown garden spoils with those less fortunate than I, I still have a heart. There's something about the image in my head of starving children in far away places. The ones we think about every once in a while, not more, because it might disturb our comfortable way of going about in our big cars and eating at big chain restaurants. When I think about throwing out a genetically selected hard mass of food, what it comes down to is that it is still that: food. I can't stand to see it go to waste and I have enough scraps that go in my compost already. So I'm going to do an experiment. The name of the experiment is not: "What pumpkin makes the best pumpkin pie?". It is, "Can I make a decent pumpkin pie out of a Halloween pumpkin?". And there you have it. Stay tuned for updates on my experiment. I fully intend to take a couple to Thanksgiving Dinner (Did I mention that I'm passionate about homemade pies?) and I'm even going to try a vegan version that my Dad can enjoy. If you've ever asked yourself the same question, feel free to come by on Monday to taste the pumpkin pie filling, or just wait for it here as I take you through the process. I can't imagine that it could taste half as bad as the synthetic, overly sweet versions that are in grocery stores. To be started in the morning with roasting....DUN. Dun. dun......(Followed by eery alien whistling music....)