A Duo Of Nap Time Snacks

I don't quite know what it is, but when nap time rolls around, I tend to celebrate with a snack. It could be for a couple of reasons: A. I didn't get to eat much of a lunch (as I am more of a short-order cook rather than a diner in my own house during the frenzied lunchtime rush of my three children). B. I simply get so excited about having some peace and quiet that I yank the Nutella out of the pantry with exaggerated Kung-Fu moves.

One snack is healthy the other is is not. I like giving my readers options, ya know? You like that, right?

I adore cottage cheese. I have very fond memories of eating bowlfuls of the stuff with canned peaches and pears (in heavy syrup, of course) over the top. Well, nowadays, I don't do canned fruit. So here's my updated and more healthy version, which honestly tastes better.

1/2 cup lowfat, organic cottage cheese
1/2 organic peach or pear, sliced
drizzle of raw, organic agave
One issue House Beautiful or Food and Wine magazine

You could layer it into a parfait or do like I did, make it all dainty in a tea cup. Whatever suits your nap time (or anytime really) hankerings.

Alright, so the above is super healthy. This little guy below...not so much.

He looks kinda dejected, huh? He's not really. I accepted him heartily and fully into my giant mouth of pearly chompers. Gosh, it was so good. What is this unhealthy-ish snack? Well, maybe it's not too unhealthy. Two out of the 3 ingredients are actually pretty good for you. It's that dang Nutella.

So stack these three ingredients up for a super satisfying (mainly for the sweet tooth in us all) snack:

One brown rice cake
One heaping tablespoon Nutella (don't be chintzy!)
6-7 sliced banana
Dash of Kung-Fu moves (optional)

It's not only the taste that is so great, but the textures. If you have been reading this blog for any time at all, you know that I am huge on texture. Most things I eat need to have some form of crunch or it's just not worth eating. The creaminess of the bananas and Nutella play beautifully together. Add a glass of milk and you just entered snack time heaven.

Being a stay-at-home mommy is a hard job, but your snacks don't have to be! That sounded like a commercial on much-too-late night t.v.

Well, Foodies, whether you are a stay-at-home mommy, working mommy, not-a-mommy or daddy, everyone needs a good snack. Maybe I will make snack posts a regular thing. I've got some more yummy ones up my sleeve.

Love ya, Foodies!

Baby Veg

 Okay, so from the above picture you might surmise that I enjoy delegating, managing, holding shovels in a sassy fashion or I'm lazy.  I'm learning to be better at delegating, I'm a good at managing my kids, definitely a cute shovel-holder and lazy only occasionally. I actually dug the entire garden alla myself (in a hurried/frenzied fashion during a nap-time lull) and had the Hubs do the tiller because the tiller makes me giggle and when I giggle, I get week arms and if you've ever used a tiller its extremely unsafe to be struck with giggling-induced weak arms because the tiller goes nutso-crazy on you like a jackrabbit on crack. Hence, the beefy man doing the tilling.

Phew.

So I've been raising seedlings indoors since March or April. We've got three varieties of organic tomatoes: Brandywine, cherry and some sort of flaming (?) Romas. They seriously look like they have yellow, stripey flames on them. We have parsley, pickling cucumbers and green beans. A variety of hot peppers for the Hubs. I've never grown green beans or grown tomatoes from seed. It was quite an enormous undertaking as far as the tomatoes go. They are so very delicate and require so much attention. I felt like my family grew to 45 children over night.

Cucumbers are probably my favorite thing to grow. They are so fool-proof. They grow like mad, so they really stroke your gardening-ego. They make you feel so accomplished. They have this naturally super-poky exterior on the leaves, stems and even the fruit itself so I never have worms or rabbits trying to eat it.

The green beans, other than herbs, have been my first harvest! I have been collecting tiny handfuls each evening until I came up with enough to justify cooking them. I feel strangely attached to these little guys. I've nurtured them, sang to them (yes, I sing to my garden. Trust me, it saved a wimpy tomato plant), weeded their bed and cooed over each little purple flower. Ready to throw-up? I REALLY love my little garden.

So it felt a slightly weird cooking up my green bean babies, but I was quickly over their death as I enjoyed every buttery bite. I simply steamed them in a pan with butter and salt and a dash of water. I topped them again with a wad of butter just before the Hubs and I recklessly dangled each one over our mouths and ate them more like popcorn than a proper bean. All the while smacking our lips, commenting on the fresh taste and sucking the butter from our fingertips.

They were sweet. They were perfectly tender. I have to say, I inhaled them.

And that was that. The first fruits of my garden. It was bittersweet. I raised them and then I ate them. I can't imagine doing that with an animal. Ugh. I'd surely be converted to a vegetarian.

Sorry to be so sappy over my baby beans, but I mean...just look at them? Coochie-coo!

 Crazy dill. It's ready for pickling but the cucumbers are dragging behind. Hurry up cucs!

 So here is what the garden is now. It's much too cramped, overgrown and a plant free-for-all. I have 9 tomato plants crammed in next to each other- very much against the seed packet's instructions. I crammed so many in because I could bear letting some get in the garden and others not. I asked my neighbors if they would adopt my surplus tomato babies, er, plants. I basically made them sign an adoption agreement to nourish and take care of them. Okay, so I didn't, I just gave them the 'ol stink eye as I handed the baby plants over.

Curious about those wonky, ladder-ish things? I got them out of someone's trash. I pick up stuff out of people's trash occasionally. Not nasty trash, nice trash from the nice neighborhoods. You know, where they throw out stuff that's still useful, but they just have no use for it, which makes it perfect for me! Anyway, those ugly things are for my beans and cucumbers to grow up since my garden is a postage stamp size. Having things grow up helps a lot.

As I write this, I am realizing with great clarity my weirdo-plant love I have. I'm really attached. Hmmm.

 

Nuzzling my manicured toes in with the parsley. I have garden clogs...but honestly, who cares? I love my feet in the dirt- that is, until the Hubs points out the clods of mud still clinging to the sides of my rustic, farmer feet.

Dig in the dirt and plant something. (Al Gore didn't tell me to tell you that.)

Love ya, Foodies.

The Whole Dole

It's warming up outside. It's time for popsicles and ice cream. Time to eat your frozen treats in total abandonment with sticky, grape, orange and cherry stains to match the love fest.

That's why I strip my kids down to their undies to eat such treats. And I hate laundry.

With that said, I'm not so big on pre-made, processed frozen treats. They're okay once in a while, but I much prefer the kiddos getting their treat fix with natural juice pops or whole fruit "ice cream", which they can eat with their clothes on, because apple juice doesn't stain (or make your kids crazy) like red dye 40.

I guess I should teach my kids the word sorbet. Apparently I don't want them to look like junior food snobs when they play with the other four year old kids. (read next sentence in a hoity-toity voice.) "We had a palate cleansing dish of sorbet between our first and second course. What did your mom make?"

So the "whole dole" is like the whole enchilada, or shebang, or...you know what, I don't need to explain. You get it. It's everything. The whole pineapple. (I teach workshops on how to rabbit trail, if you are interested.)

I got this idea this morning. Instead of super sugary sorbet, or super fatty ice cream, why not save my fleeting waistline and feed my kids some extra fiber, by blending an entire pineapple, freezing it in the ice cream maker and calling it the "whole dole" sorbet?

Earth-shaking, I know.

Side note on the whole fiber thing. I LOVE chomping on the core of the pineapple. It's fibrous texture and juicy, watery content satisfies that need-to-gnaw-on-something/puppy dog nature of mine.
 
Well, I believe one could, if one was so inclined, could give oneself diarrhea by chewing and consuming one too many pineapple cores. It's merely heresay. I may know a girl who did that, once.

The Whole Dole Sorbet

1 whole, fresh, ripe pineapple

Take off it's jacket, remove core, chew on the core, lop the flesh it into chunks and whiz away into oblivion in the food processor. Pour into ice cream maker and freeze. It comes out almost fluffy. I think air gets whipped into it in the food processor. Interesting texture.

Word on the sorbet firmness...I'm weird about making homemade sorbet. It must be eaten immediately after it's made. I find that homemade sorbet, when frozen in the freezer after its jaunt in the ice cream maker is, well, solid as a rock. It looses it slushy texture. So while we are all eating our dinner, I have the sorbet churning away. It's a great incentive for slow and picky eaters, to hurry up and eat. The soft and gentle whirring sound of the ice cream maker as it goes round and round is like kid-brainwashing that sends this message: "Eat your food, child. Eat!"

We are going to be eating a lot more sorbet around here.

Love Ya, Friends.

Tina Fey Interview

When adoration and imagination run a muck:

(Tina and I sit in plush, matching recliners while balancing plates of Night Cheese on our laps and wearing Snuggies. And yes, she is interviewing ME, not the other way around. That should give you a hint to the reality of this "interview".)

LZ: Tina, let me say before we even get started, that I knew something good was going to happen today when I saw that my speedometer read, 77,777. 

TF: Mine too! So Lauren, believe it or not, I've brought you here to my home to talk to you about the array of dishes you created out of a Costco-size, bag of limes.

LZ: Really, Tina? Are you sure it's not because you have that new book Bossypants out and you wanted to boost your sales?

TF: Your blog has how many followers again?

LZ: One hundred and twenty.

TF: Are you supposed to say the "and"?

LZ: Probably not, but I felt it made it sound more adequate.

TF: Well, since we are on the subject of my book, have you read it?

LZ: Yes, I have...well, parts of it. Actually the front and back cover to be exact. It was while I was shopping in Target the other day. I'm happy to say that I'm number 155 in line to get it next from the library. So it looks like I should be able to finish reading it around July. That should make you feel good.

TF: Why because so many people are eager to not pay for it?

LZ: No, to show you how popular you are.

TF: Hmm, maybe I should do a reading at my local library.

LZ: Brilliant! See, we are working like a team already!

TF: Who said anything about a team?

LZ: Just me. So what cheese are you eating? Mines a 15 month old English cheddar. Sounds young for a human but that's pretty old for a cheese.


TF: Um, just a good, middle-aged Gouda.

LZ: And do you use an actual cheese knife?

TF: When I can. Cheese knives are so pretentious, don't you think?

LZ: Totally. I really feel like we are bonding.

TF: (takes another bite of her Gouda while humming. Neither denies nor confirms my statement. Therefore, it must mean "maybe". Fingers crossed.)

LZ: You know, I had the opportunity to be interviewed by Alec Baldwin about the limes...

TF: Who?

LZ: Don't worry, I turned him down. I just can't forgive him for cheating on Tess in Working Girl. Besides, he said he had a yachting tournament to attend. We both know it wouldn't have worked.

TF: He uses that one on me all the time. Yacht is code for "No way, Jose".

LZ: I'll remember that the next time I call.

TF: Back to the bag 'o limes (Tina does an awkward Irish jig in her recliner and we both giggle), how did you transport them?

LZ: Well, "lugging" would be a good word, Tina, also, "hoisting" could work. They were moderately heavy. I hoisted them into the back of my dented mini-van, on top of the stroller that I never take out and next to a ladybug kite that flaps in the wind every time I roll down the windows and adjacent to an old dirty diaper. Your breath never smells like you ate an old dirty diaper, does it Liz Lemon?

TF: So you were listening.

LZ: It's understood that I love 30 Rock. Who else would arrange for our Night Cheese platters?

TF: That was you? Genius, except it's not night time...

LZ: (Screaming like a toddler in my head) She called me "genius!!!"

TF: But no matter, I'm thinking of changing it to Anytime Cheese or Spontaneous Cheese.

LZ: Again, we are back to team work, and it feels good.

TF: I've got to admit, this could work.

LZ: I think I just peed a little.

TF: Well, your paying to have your recliner cleaned then.

LZ: Don't worry, I rented these from a prop store. It'll dry.

TF: You rented recliners?...for my house?

LZ: And?

TF: Cool.

LZ: I made a delightful Lime- Herb Rubbed Salmon out of the limes. Want to hear about it?

TF: Not really. I want to hear about the worst combination of foods you have ever eaten.

LZ: Chicken curry followed by a bowl of raisin bran, while pregnant.

TF: That's pretty bad.

LZ: The pregnant part only explains half of it.

TF: And the other half?

LZ: I'm not sure I follow.

TF: About the curry-raisin-bran combo?

LZ: I'm an enigma.

TF: Clearly.

LZ: So when do we start branching out in our BBQ bottling ventures?

TF: I was unaware...

LZ: You didn't get that memo?

TF: Firstly, I don't care for BBQ and secondly, I know nothing about bottling.


LZ: Schlemiel, schlimazel, (mumbles)...

TF and LZ: (in unison) INCORPORATED!

TF: Inspiring but I'm going to have to turn you down on the BBQ sauce.

LZ: Penny Marshall was at the top of her game!

TF: Really.

LZ: Okay, answer me this: Does Jack Donaghy love the microwave?

TF: Alright, you got me. I could always use something else to do. What do we name our sauce?

LZ: Two Hot Babes BBQ Sauce?

TF: Only one of us is hot.

LZ: Thanks, Tina. Okay, how about 30 Ribs BBQ Sauce?

TF: I get it...but, no.

LZ: You're the comedy writer, you think of something.

TF: Okay, sure, no problem. (eats yet another slice of cheese) How about "BBQ Blaster" and we put it in a squirt gun?

LZ: Kinda like Cheesy Blasters, but BBQ sauce?

TF: Um, yeah.

LZ: It's alright. I guess I was expecting more, Tina. I mean, you're the Tina Fey. You get paid millions, consequently billions to do this stuff. BBQ Blaster? I'll give you points for the the squirt gun.

TF: Thanks, I guess.

LZ: I think the next step is to get our hairnets on and get to work on making, what's it called again?

TF: (sheepishly) BBQ Blaster.

LZ: We're going to have to work on that Tina. I still like 30 Ribs.

TF: Okay, Bossypants.

~

Firstly, I must say, anything written on behalf of the fabulous Tina Fey, was not said by her at all. Just what I wish she were to say if we got to hang out.

And because I am a behind-the-scenes kind of girl, here's what went down while I was writing this nonsense:

I fixed a Batman mask, fed my kids breakfast, ate a bowl of raisin bran (what can I say, I love fiber...just about as much as I love cheese. Good thing too.), wrote a grocery list, broke up numerous sibling fights, knocked over the box of Cherrios, swept it up, stepped on several, said fake curse words in my frustration, looked up how to spell "yacht" and "Donaghy", let the kids watch too much television, said "no" to a Wiggles movie seventeen times, stubbed my toe, announced again that I need a pedicure, put my oldest son in his Buzz Lightyear costume, threatened to not let my kids have a cookie at Whole Foods if they didn't stop hitting each other, listened to 3 whining sessions and planned this weeks menu in my head. Tina is so worth it.

What would be the coolest thing ever? That Tina would read this. That she might Google herself and have the patience to go to the 89th page of Google search to read this post...and possibly ask me to do a guest appearance on 30 Rock or do the BBQ sauce thing. I'm up for whatever. I'm pretty sure there are six degrees of separation between us, I just don't know what they are.

Love Ya, Foodies!

P.s. Here's the recipe for the delicious Lime-Herb Rubbed Salmon I was trying to tell Tina about:

Lime-Herb Rubbed Salmon

generously feeds 2

zest of one lime
minced fresh herbs, I used rosemary, thyme and basil- handful of each
1/2 clove fresh garlic, grated on microplane or minced very finely
1-2 tbsp. olive oil

Mix all this together and make a paste. Apply it to approx. 3/4 lb. of fresh Wild Alaskan salmon (I used Sockeye). Let it set for a good 30 minutes.

Get your pan very hot over medium heat. Sprinkle salmon on both sides with salt and pepper. Sear on both sides for 3 min. each. Remove salmon and turn heat down. Add 1-2 tbsp. butter (depending on how bad you want to be) and let it melt in the pan, slightly browning. Squeeze the juice of 1/2 lime into the butter and quickly pour it over the salmon. I served it with a herb, soft polenta but it would be good with roasted potatoes or even some pasta.

A Fine Specimen, Indeed!

Quite arresting, isn't it? Poor guy, he's missing all the important parts, like his head for one. Oh, you thought I was going to talk about his missing man-ish parts? Yes, that's very important too. But I marvel at this sculpture because you don't notice so much what he doesn't have (sorta) but more at what is left. Simply beautiful...and really old.

"Lauren, tell me where you find such ruined beauty," you say? Well, it's at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, right here in Kansas City. Admission is free and the food is INSANELY good at the Rozzelle Court restaurant, which is located in the heart of the museum.You find yourself sitting in a 15th century courtyard which was flown in from Italy. Pretty impressive.

Speaking of food, this is what I ate that day, (yes, a day which was child-free, thanks to my mom) which was a vegetarian Mediterranean salad. So unique. Actually, it was quite inspiring, as far as a salad goes. It had marinated mushrooms, in which I detected a hint of wine, cooked and chilled asparagus, cold, roasted potatoes (which I was expecting to be weird and mealy, but where not), and creamy feta and roasted peppers. And of course, some salty, make-you-bloat-two-dress-sizes-right-in-you-chair kalamata olives. Divine.

 

I'm always quite intrigued by any painting or sculpture of the Madonna and Christ child. I mean, I find the artwork on the subject quite strange and wonderful at the same time. Most of the time Mary looks really bored and sometimes even annoyed by her God-incarnate child. According to the description of this sculpture, this is a very tender rendering of the two, in that Christ touching his mother's cheek, shows a very intimate and connected bond between the two. Hmmm. I see it, but it's very different from how I see moms (including myself) love on their kids nowadays.  We snuggle and nibble, sniff and tickle their necks and ribs, toes and cheeks. I want to see a painting of Mary and Jesus like that, because that's how I believe it really was.

Take a look at this beauty. More than anything else that I have to say about this sculpture is that I cannot get past how the sculptor was able to make marble look like soft, silky, drape-y, fabric. How it clings to her body and billows out below- simply incredible.

I have been coming to this museum since I was a young girl. In my heart, this is the birthplace of my love of art. I can spend hours gazing at the familiar artwork that has become like old friends. The shape that this sculpture creates is so different than most really old sculptures. She's not merely standing there holding a pot, or regally posing with a crown, but instead, you feel like you've caught her in the act of her daily ritual of adorning herself with flowers, in the woods somewhere.

  But what I like most is that she is smiling.

This painting reminds me of my grandma. She looks eerily like her and she is also a woman of the same decent as my grandma- a Southern Italian. Looking at her eyes stirs curiosity over what she is daydreaming about. As my gaze floats down the painting, I am distracted by the sheen on the pearls around her neck. How did the painter capture such realism? And the folds in her blouse? Oh, that I could someday capture something so simple with such immaculate detail. It's so inspiring.

 

These two love birds are embracing one another after the hunka-hunka man killed a boar. It lays dead in the background. But what I couldn't seem to get over was the enormity of both the lover's hands. They were GINORMOUS! Even though the artist translated the dainty aspects of a woman's hand, it could have easily palmed a basketball the size of a small elephant! Of course, I do take into account that the statue itself is nearly 9 to 10 foot high. Had that statue come to life and given me a high-5, I would be typing with one hand right now...the other would still be lying on the floor of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art.

Oh, how the mind wanders. Well, I hope you enjoyed this little tour, and truly, it was little. There is so much to experience at this great museum. If you are in town, you simply must visit, have a leisurely lunch and fill you quota for art appreciation.

Love Ya, Foodies!

P.s. Monet's (http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/) brother-in-law is in his own room now and talking! He is still unaware of what has happened. Pray for continued strength for him and his son.

The Compulsion to Create

 

 Creativity is invigorating.

Being a mom can be really hard at times. Each mom is forced to deal with her special mix of issues, created by her special mix of kids (not to mention her special mix of self). Somedays, by no fault of their own, the kids run me into the ground. With a sprinkling of PMS and a bad night's sleep, incessant questions and tantrums, doctor's visits and therapy sessions, grocery store runs and playdates, and last but not least piles of laundry on top of piles of dishes, after which you clean up you then have to make dinner!...well you get the picture, and moms, if you are reading this your saying, "Ehmmm. I LIVE in that picture."

 Tantrum.

I've always been a creative person, from as far back as I can remember. Most of my first memories are of drawing or crafting in some fashion. So when life gets overwhelming, there is nothing better than creating or growing something. Both things introduce life and life is one of the happiest things there is.

When you grow or make something, whether it's a sprouting tomato seedling or simply doodling for the sake of doodling, there is a satisfaction that washes over me and it refreshes me. Sometimes just gazing at those little sprouts breathes life into this weary mommy.

Aren't my baby sprouts the cutest? I love how they crave light. They uniformly lean their little slender bodies towards the slightest bit of light. I like to change things up and turn them around, just so I can watch them move again.

Maybe it's because I'm so desperate for Spring, or maybe it's because I need a mommy break badly. But I find myself craving to create like it's a drug. Anything! I don't care what it is. I put a puzzle together for the first time in years, a couple of weeks ago. It was so much fun!

 Did I ever tell you I love all things Alice in Wonderland? Well, I do -since I was very small. It's currently in the works to turn my kitchen into a Wonderland kitchen. I will have to do a post on that...

Here's the rub: when you are rundown, tired, overwhelmed or frustrated, taking that time to sit down and create something can be yet, another thing on your to-do list. And instead of becoming an oasis that it was intended to be, you find it annoying. BUT, if you flip it, view it as a "spa time" for you, and only do something YOU want to do, (this kind of creative spa time does NOT include the following: putting together a toy for your kid, doing a science fair project, or trying to figure a "creative" way to keep the cat from pooping in your potted plants) and the great thing is that it could be as simple as taking some pictures of the budding trees in your backyard, or tying a bright pink ribbon in your ponytail or hanging that picture in your dining room that you know will just "make it".

But if you have a little extra zing that day, whether it be from an extra cup of coffee or your mom has the kids for the day (or even an hour), don't spend that time doing laundry! Use it to feed you. I often times find that the most impromptu creative moments are the best. They are so surprising and leave me with a glow all day.

It's in our nature to create, as humans. I think it's the ultimate high. It's where I most find God. Creativity is like my secret door to the secret clubhouse that God and I have together. In that tiny window of time, I'm co-creating with Him. It stirs conversations and healing. It awakens hope in some of dark corners of my heart. It relieves the burdens I continually choose to carry and reminds me that He will gladly carry them for me...all while doodling my latest idea for the kitchen decor or pressing tiny seeds into a planter to grow, He speaks.

I love that creativity is not bound by rules. It is what you want it to be. Its an indulging of the heart. There is no right or wrong. It could be baking a pie or painting a mural. Sometimes just breaking the ground for where your garden will go, can be as thrilling as a final stroke on a painting or piano key.

And then there is the creating in the midst of chaos, which can be the "quiet" you are looking for. Even when the kids are screaming and running, or my Tiny is tearing up the tupperware drawer for the 19th time that day, I will make a pie. I know, it seems nuts, but I don't have the luxury of always waiting for the "perfect moment" to create. Often times, it's more like a quick fire challenge on Top Chef than as leisure pie baking session with grandma. It's occupying the kids in smashing the graham crackers to smithereens so I can make the custard...but I'm still creating and loving it.

The other day, I was cleaning up the kitchen to make yet another mess and I laughed to myself as I cleaned up the oils and ingredients for my cosmetic making endeavors, the potting soil from the seed planting and the paints from the kid's craft time. As soon as I got that all away, I was reaching for the cutting board to start dinner. So my kitchen (as I'm sure yours is as well) is not only a kitchen, but a science lab, greenhouse and an art studio. The thought of that makes me so happy.



I also wanted to follow-up with you concerning the last post, Potatoes and Prayers. If you have not heard, Monet's sister passed last night and joined her son in heaven. It's such a tremendous loss. If you have not, please stop by her blog (http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/) and flood her with support. We love you, Monet. This photo I took the other day, made me think of your sister today.

Love ya, Foodies!

Potatoes and Prayers

I would like to cook my friend a meal. I would like to cook one for her entire family- a family who has walked through so much the past few years that it's hard to imagine.

We foodies generally show our love and affection and our nurturing spirits through the food we cook. But unfortunately, all I can do for this friend is pray and sit and wait for her updates regarding her family.

That friend is Monet.

Many of you already know Monet through her inspiring, descriptive and delicious blog (http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com) where her words are as intoxicating as the food she makes. Even more than that, is the love that Monet spreads everywhere her written word appears. Her kind words and sweet spirit have lifted my heart more than a few times.

I've never met Monet in person, yet I feel such a connection with her as I know so many others do. So when I heard about the tragic accident that happened over the weekend to her sister and her sister's husband as well as her two nephews, I was shocked. How much more can this family endure? (read here, http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/pamandmikebrown)

So I sat staring at my computer screen, trying to make sense of what has happened to this family. "Why?" is the knee-jerk reaction. I think of Japan. "Why?" I scramble for a reason, something that comforts, something that hushes the deep questions that resonate inside when I hear about tragedy. It shakes my core. It throws a shattering piece of shrapnel through my spirit. Why this family? God seems so unfeeling. He seems so far away when this kind of news emerges. Is it because it's true or because we see only bits and pieces of the plan?

We cling to cliches like, "God is good...all the time" or "there's a reason for everything", yet none of us know what that reason is. Yes, at times, later on -sometimes much later on- we can see clearer and see some sort of Divine artistry, but at that moment of raw impact, we are left broken and hopeless and finding taking our next breath difficult and at times, less than desirable.

Sometimes things get worse. Sometimes they get very worse before they get better (pardon yet another cliche). And then, yes, then a crack starts to develop in the wall of protection we have carefully and vigilantly built around ourselves. A fissure that comes bearing a painful proposition...hope.

"Hope?" the heart blurts out, in hot anger and weary frustration. "No, I'm quite comfortable here in my cocoon of despair that I have created. And besides, Hope will require me to believe for better."

The heart desires Hope, regardless of what it may say or how it reacts. The heart lives for hope. It's how one reaches the shore of a land they cannot see or it's how a woman gives those final pushes in birth, when there is seemingly no strength left. Either hope of a new life or hope of a new life.

In this case, where that "new life" may begin is not ours to choose. It may begin in heaven, where all is healed and all is fresh or it may start again here on earth where a road to recovery is slow and hard yet victorious, either way, we are required to let go in some form.

And so we pray, we weep, we try to stuff the questions that arise away. We reach out, we help, we give, trying to bring some comfort. And it does. Because the most precious gift we can give to a family in this situation is support. When a community surrounds you, you no longer feel alone. You know you can take another step, even if it's scary or you don't know where the road leads, you can do it because others are around you. You see God's hands through those who feed you, wipe away your tears and hold you.


You may think it strange that I am incorporating potatoes into this rather deep Foodie House post. Well, I'm inspired by the way Monet writes and how she can creatively work a experience or story in with her recipes.

So Monet, if you are reading this, I would make these potatoes for you. Of course, not just potatoes, dear friend, I would cook you a whole meal, but these would be the comfort factor. I'm sure what you and your family are eating right now consists of cafeteria food and vending machine cuisine. How I wish I could come and bring you and your sweet family food, lots of hugs and a hand to hold...and maybe a pot roast.

These potatoes are homey and rustic. I simply crisped up the potato rounds in lots of olive oil and butter, thyme and rosemary.

 

 Crispy Rustic Potatoes

2 russet potatoes, baked

2 tbsp. olive oil

1 tbsp. butter

3-4 sprigs fresh thyme

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

salt and pepper

 

Heat pan over medium heat with olive oil and butter. Add herbs and let them perfume the oils. Add slices of potato, season with salt and pepper and leave it for a good 5 minutes. Do not flip until dark golden brown and very crispy. Do the same on the other side. Serve with the herbs, for they are salty and crispy...delicious. 

So here is my challenge to you readers, share this link with others. Share the Caring Bridge link above with others. Let's get the word to get out. I want there to be an outpouring of love and support. Whether it's praying or donating (you can donate on Monet's blog or on the Caring Bridge site) or any other creative way you can think of.  Let's lift this family up and breath hope into these weary hearts.

Love ya, Foodies.