July is segueing into August, bringing the dog days of Summer. It’s been a scorcher, but this is such summertime, hot, sultry weather that we can only dream about in January. Heat shimmers on roads, whistles through trees and sears down on our heads and shoulders. Night time should bring some relief, but many nights have passed that the heat remains unrelenting. Morning has no cool hours to enjoy. It’s summer. As it should be.

We yearned for this back in June. On June 23rd I recall wearing slippers on my feet because it was so chilly. There was a lot of complaining, a lot of griping, plenty of pleas for sun and heat. Then it came. And of course, we had more to gripe about. But for me, I love the heat. I can even appreciate the humidity, because it creates curls in my hair that I don’t get otherwise.

And the heat/humidity combination has made my garden thrive. Along with regular rainstorms (monsoons, really…the rain has been copious) I have seen phenomenal growth in the tomato and pepper plants, and they are loaded with buds and fruit. I am almost drooling at the sight of it all. The herbs have flourished, including some volunteer oregano that came up from last year’s seed. I went out one day to snip some of the herbs for dinner and was THRILLED to spy this on the parsley:

That’s a Black Swallowtail caterpillar and my initial inspection revealed four of these on my plant. This is what the butterfly itself looks like.

I was really excited to find these caterpillar, and will happily offer my parsley to them for food. According to the information I found on the species, this particular caterpillar spins it’s cocoon and then overwinters inside it, hatching in the Spring. I’ll have to watch for these guys to make their transformation, then likely I will bring them inside to insure the survival over the winter. It will be fun to watch them, should we manage to keep them viable until Spring. The year Griffin was five we had a Monarch chrysalis that we found, and it was such an amazing thing to be able to watch it change and then see the butterfly emerge. One year at our lake home we had an abundance of chrysalis that we found on our lakeshore plantings. What a miraculous thing it is to see.

Once I discovered the caterpillar, I placed a piece of screen over the plant to keep them safe from birds. Within a day, I could only see the three largest caterpillar; the smallest one is either hiding really well or has disappeared. They’re eating and moving around the parsley, and one evening as I watered the garden, I got the hose a bit too close to the plant and sprayed them good. Bending down to inspect them, I noticed one of the caterpillar lifted it’s hind end off the stem and shook off a drop of water. What a funny thing to see. Of course that evening there was a torrential downpour, and I found myself worrying about them out in the garden. Silly, I know. But three gorgeous Butterflies will roam the earth if I can successfully keep these caterpillar alive. That’s worth worrying about, I say.

The hot weather hasn’t given me much motivation in terms of big cooking projects. I’ve been loading up on goodies from the markets, bags upon bags of produce to keep on hand and fill our bellies, but with the intense heat, our appetites have been lower than normal, and sometimes a big salad and a hearty slice of bread is all we can manage to dish up for dinner. I’ve been happily filling pots of bubbling polenta with fresh herbs and corn kernels, sighing my way through a bowl of that when I have the wherewithal to stand at the stove for a half hour. Mostly we’re just enjoying ourselves, with some much needed adult time for Mike and I as Griffin has been spending a lot of overnights with his friends. It’s been lovely for us. Just lovely.

What have you been doing for this hot, hot July???

ONE YEAR AGO…..
2010- I was working like crazy at a local golf club, and picking Blueberries in the Summer Rain(find a recipe for Blueberry Syrup in this post!!)

TWO YEARS AGO…..
2009- It was all about raspberries; come and take a walk with me on a country road lined with wild raspberry bushes.

Every once in a while, exciting new things sprout up around my kitchen; fun events that I’m participating in that I think you would find interesting. Most of these fun events have arrived via my relationship with The Motherhood, which began last November and has proven to be a win-win for both of us.

The first event happens this Wednesday. And it’s all about breakfast.

Once again, I’m co-hosting a virtual chat on The Motherhood, and we’re going to talk all things breakfast, most importantly- what’s the best meal options to start your day? Did you know that the USDA nutritional guidelines have changed once again? They have. There’ll be some talk about nutrition too.

Here’s the details:

What: You’re invited to a Kellogg virtual breakfast to discuss morning nutrition and the recently released 2010 Dietary Guidelines.

When: The virtual breakfast is happening on Wednesday, April 20, at 11 a.m. ET.

Where: In TheMotherhood – http://themotherhood.com/talk/show/id/62187

Who: Join Sarah Woodside, registered dietitian for Kellogg, and Liz Ward, registered dietitian, author and one of the Kellogg’s Breakfast Council members, to discuss the nutrients a good breakfast should provide, options for healthy breakfasts on the go, recent research findings on nutrition, and more.  Sarah and Liz will speak to us via live streaming video, while we chat and ask questions through a real-time, text-based conversation.

And if that isn’t enough……

Do you know this coming Friday, April 22nd is Earth Day? It is, once again. And through The Motherhood, I’ve agreed to be a state representative for Minnesota, taking my own measures to Be Kind to the Earth, on Friday, and every day.

I’m a huge advocate of reusable shopping bags, and carry a big stash in my car. During the growing season in Minnesota, I put all my compostable kitchen waste on our garden, digging it right into the soil and often getting lots of volunteer plants coming up from the seeds. Our garden and yard is all organic (much to our neighbors chagrin!) We recycle, of course, and we have a yard waste bin that our trash haulers collect each week from April to November. We just replaced our washer and dryer with more environmentally friendly options, including a water sensor on the washer that only fills it according to the amount of clothes you place in the tub. I’ve eliminated paper napkins in our house by using cotton washable napkins, and old worn out towels get re-purposed for garage and cleaning. Last year I swapped out all my personal care products for natural, eco-friendly options without sulfates, petrochemicals or pthalates. This year, the cleaning products are on my hit list.

What are your best eco-friendly habits? Will you join in and make your own pledge to care for the Earth?

What goes best with peanut butter? Or maybe the question should be rephrased…..

What doesn’t go with peanut butter? And please, include your combinations.

Because this is all about the most ubiquitous spread available, the one that gleans passionate outbursts from even the most stoic souls, a food that fuels both bodies and debates -chunky or creamy, and which brand?- and even scorn, although I’ve only met a few people who turn up their noses at smoothly ground peanuts.

I love smooth and creamy peanut butter, always have. I won’t pass by a jar of good chunky PB, and if it’s all that’s available then I’ll take one for the team. I’m not picky about texture too much. But I’ve found that I can’t go more than a day and a half without consuming peanut butter. At all. I panic when the jar runs low in our house, or if we don’t have the right brand at our lake home in the summer. And I’m specifically loyal about my PB to a toddler tantrum, foot stamping fault; it’s got to be natural peanut butter. Hands down. All that ‘Take one for the team’ talk about eating chunky if I have to? It doesn’t apply to commercial peanut butter that tastes like thick brown paste. I grew up eating natural peanut butter and mourn the loss of Real brand PB from the stores. Thank goodness Parker Farms is a perfectly good option because the more well-known varieties (and I won’t name names; y’all know what types I’m talking about) will never grace my kitchen nor pass my lips.

Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve paired a lot of other foods with peanut butter. Out of curiosity, for the most part, and sometimes out of boredom and even necessity. Peanut butter is perfect poor-man’s food, like only a college kid can be. And when perusing your empty fridge late at night, your body in need of something substantial to carry you to morning, peanut butter becomes your go-to food, and in order to make that snack stick, sometimes you end up getting a little creative. And over the years, I’ve dabbled with a lot of interesting and varied combinations.

~~PB and a fried egg. On toast. It’s not bad. And for many years in college it was a staple for breakfast. These days, however, not so much.

~~PB and bacon. Oh yes. Crisp crackling pork, creamy PB that melts on your warm toasted bread. This is killer good, and even my Teen fell hard for it. However, due to it’s not so stellar nutritional outcome, it’s a rare treat these days.

~~PB and tuna. Ugh. Skip it. Trust me.

~~ PB and grated apple. Perfect, as we all know that dunking a thick slice of crunchy apple into peanut butter is almost a religious experience. Grate that apple, squeeze out the liquid and spread it on your toast. Add a shake of cinnamon if you dare. Divine. You might hear angels singing.

~~PB and crushed potato chips, or a Chip Butty, according to Susan’s Encyclopedia of Sandwiches. If you didn’t do this as a kid, raise your hand. I’d like to know you, and then maybe convince you of what you’re missing. Better yet, crush Doritos on your PB. Eeeek. Did I just say that?

~~PB and bananas. Oh Elvis, you really were on to something, weren’t you? I love PB toast, topped with sliced bananas and a shake of cinnamon sugar.

~~PB and Nutella. Although I can easily see that this would be swoon worthy, not being on the Nutella bandwagon leaves me in the dark. I’m sure it’s amazing though. Anyone can attest to this?

~~PB and jelly. What’s your pleasure? Grape jelly? Strawberry? I kind of like both, but lately, it’s got to be blueberry preserves in my PB&J.

~~PB and honey. Even better…. this combination is far and away my absolute favorite. Especially when the honey soaks into the bread and the edges get a little crunchy. Oh my, there go the singing angels again.

~~PB and green olives. I have my Mom to thank for this one. Ever since I was a kid, and she handed me a PB sandwich stuffed with split green olives (sans the pimento) I have been hooked on this oddity. Nowadays, I scoop up a container of Sicilian olives from the gourmet olive bar at the grocers, speckled with mustard seeds and mouth puckering with a tangy vinaigrette. These massive meaty green olives snap against the salty smooth taste of the peanut butter, creating an odd flavor combination that is wildly addicting. If you’ve got an adventurous palate, try it out. But I warned you.

~~PB and mayo. Tried it once and it made the hair on my neck stand up. I tossed the remaining sandwich in the trash and promptly brushed my teeth. Some things just aren’t meant to marry. But PB and cream cheese? Oh my……

But then there’s those items that have been smeared with peanut butter as just a random means to enjoy my favorite spread; banana bread and tea breads of every style and flavor, pancakes, celery sticks (without the raisins- blergh) pretzels, marshmallows, coffee cakes, muffins of all kinds, scones, my most favorite butternut squash biscuits, grapes, strawberries, melon…. and likely more than I can remember. There really isn’t much that I won’t pair with PB, even if just to try out something new.

So tell me…. what’s your favorite way to enjoy peanut butter? Do you like creamy? Crunchy? Which brand do you buy? Are you loyal to that brand? And why do you like it?

When I wrote this post, which was last week, it had just snowed a gorgeous fluffy three or four inches, the temperatures were decent for a February day and it was lovely, really. But today, when this post goes live, the weather has sunk once again into a deep, bone chilling cold, so I do realize that asking a Minnesotan to embrace winter is quite a stretch. Still, I’m posting this because when it was actually occurring with me, it was really beautiful, and it’s worth sharing even if today is merciless and cold. Also, the photos are not in black and white. It was just the light that day, low and monochromatic and beautiful in it’s own soft, gray way.

There are plenty of those in Minnesota who, right about now I realize, are really, really tired of winter. We’ve had a lot of snow, most certainly, and it causes quite a few headaches, especially if you commute to your work. I’ve been fortunate that being out driving in it hasn’t been necessary for me during the worst of the storms. I can sit home, warm and snug and the only hassle I need to deal with is getting the newest snowfall amounts off the driveway, up and over the six-foot high snowbanks lining the sides. It’s Mother Nature’s workout at it’s finest.

And I’m a cross-country skier, so naturally the more snow, and the more frequently it snows, the better the skiing conditions will be. After our most recent several inches of fluff fell, I slid my skis in my car on a quiet Monday morning and headed over to the regional park near our house where a perfect 3K trail is carved through woods and wide open areas. When I arrived, there was a snow-shoeing class going on, with young children and their parents. I locked my boots into my skis and slid off on the trail. Pretty soon, the rest of the world fell away and it was just me, the sheer glaring white of a fresh snowfall and an empty park. The weather was perfect, and with each stride I felt like I was propelling myself further away from the clenched teeth feel of everyday life and into some place where I could breathe deep, let go and just be.

Sometimes when I ski, the rhythm of the stride, the movements of my shoulders and my very breath all seem like they’re fighting one another to co-exist. It’s a struggle to sweep myself along the trail; I feel clumsy and breathless, like I just can’t make my body work the way it needs to. On other days, within the first 5 minutes, my body slips into the familiar patterns it’s known since I was a young girl, and every muscle, breath and reach feels like the well-oiled machine that it is. On this snowy and silent Monday, I had one of those perfect days where it all fit. And with the trail to myself, I stretched, flew, slowed, stopped and breathed in the clear cold goodness of a winter day.

At one point in the trail, both sides are closely guarded by long stands of large pine trees, with sweeping boughs of green. They line the path like sentries, watching as you pass. I like to stop on this part, to look around under the trees as it’s a good place for wildlife to lurk as the tree cover tends to prevent the snowfall accumulation on the ground underneath. Sometimes there are deer in those trees, silently watching me; one time I was blessed to see a bright red fox for one good look before he leapt off, thick tail flashing wildly. This morning, I glimpsed a quiet rabbit, ears placed against it’s back under one majestic pine, and I stopped to catch my breath and watch. It was nibbling on something, paying little attention to me. I was struck with how content it looked, sitting there in a thick fur coat, like this snowy day was just another part of life.

And in reality, it is. The animals know nothing else but instinct. They just know what to do and how to manage the seasons as they change. And we could pick up a clue or two from their behavior. I don’t think they hang around each other, complaining about the current snow, the cold temperatures, and how much longer it is until Spring, at least those that stay here year round. But it seems like human beings somehow become hard-wired to complain about what they can’t change. Somehow there’s a sense of entitlement to having life exactly the way you want it, all the time. When it’s cold we want it hot, then when it’s hot we wish it wasn’t. The glass is full, but we drain it, then want it full again; always wishing for what is not. I don’t love the bitter cold, but there isn’t a single thing I can do about it when it comes except wait it out, wrapped up snug in wool sweaters. No words that can be formed with my tongue will make any difference, and the more bitterness I throw at circumstances beyond my control, the higher my dissatisfaction with my life rises. And that’s no good for anyone.

This all was churning through my mind as I skied further on the trail that day, listening to the whirl of wind over the open snow, and the moaning of a train whistle nearby. Being content with winter is challenging, I’ll be the first to admit that. But it’s also inevitable where we live. The snow falls, the snow banks grow, the muck in the streets covers our cars and potholes are everywhere. Granted, that part of the season isn’t the prettiest, but out there in the park that day, with just the wind and the train, and the endless lines of brown branches against the leaden sky, there’s a beauty that shouldn’t be ignored. And the best part about Winter is that Spring always comes, like the sunrise, a new day and with a sweet breath of relief.

For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about the little things in life, you know, those tiny aspects of your day that maybe you don’t always think about, but doing them makes you happy and feel better, and not doing them kind of stinks.

Such as…..

~~ always having something in the car for a snack. I like Clif bars. They work in a pinch when you’ve over-stepped your errands or some other outings and you’re really hungry. And they keep for ever. Bonus little thing in the car- water. I like to always have some on hand as it tends to help quell hunger too.

~~taking the time to do something just for yourself. Make some tea, do some deep breathing or just get up and stretch for 10 minutes. Stop everything necessary for just a bit. The world will not come crashing down if you do.

~~smiling at everyone. Come on…. how hard is this one? You’d be amazed at how it makes you feel, even if you think no one notices.

~~saying ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’. Again, not hard, but necessary. I’m always surprised at how much quicker something happens when you are polite and sincere.

~~being patient. I know this one is hard, but it helps make everyone’s day better. Lines don’t move, elevators take forever, stories get drawn out…. it happens.

~~and to go with that patience….. being tolerant. Everyone around you has some kind of battle, and that person who is crabby, rude or taking up two parking spots might just be having a really rotten day. We all need a little grace. Include yourself, too.

~~apologizing when something just doesn’t go right. And most importantly, apologize to yourself. We’re imperfect and we have days that simply crumble at the seams. Let it go and try again. Being perfect is unattainable.

~~complimenting someone. Anyone. I saw an elderly woman at the grocer who had a big brooch on her coat, the kind my Grandma wore a lot. It made me think of her, and I told the woman her brooch was lovely. She beamed like she’d won the lottery. Not difficult at all, and it made both of us happy.

~~eating slowly. Savoring the taste, the flavor, the texture. This may be hard if you have little kids, but if you don’t eat every single meal with them, when you can, take your time. The best part? You fill up without over-eating.

“Every time you appreciate something; every time you praise something; every time you feel good about something, you are telling the Universe: “MORE OF THIS, PLEASE!” You need never make another verbal statement of this intent and, if you are mostly in a state of appreciation, all good things will flow to you.”
~Esther Abraham-Hicks

That’s what’s on my mind today. Thanks for listening. One more day left of NaBloPoMo!!

~~ for my health, especially following last month’s car accident.

~~ for the fact that last month’s car accident was not serious

~~ for good insurance, oh thank goodness for good insurance

~~ for the 5 kittens and their mama who were rescued last month, and that someone may open their hearts and homes to them.

~~ for a wonderful, amazing, supportive, loving, accepting, gracious spouse

~~ for the best 16 year old boy anyone could ask for

~~ for the skills of my masseuse and chiropractor who keep me feeling good, and my hairdresser who is nothing short of amazing with both her talent and her personality

~~ for a nice home, good cars, warm clothes, sturdy shoes, hats & mittens, central heat, cozy blankets, good furniture, entertainment and rest

~~ for the food in our kitchen, and the ability to buy what I need

~~ for the warm fuzzy felines that lay all over me purring their love, and for their vet who keeps them healthy

~~ for the fact that life sometimes breaks your heart, then turns around and unexpectedly gives you another chance, a better story, a happier outcome. We would never appreciate those peaks of life if it weren’t for the dark valleys we travel through to get there.

~~ for being able to choose my happiness, for being strong enough to say ‘No’, for the ability to say ‘Yes’, for knowing when it’s time to let others make the decisions, for being wise enough to ask ‘Can you help me?’

~~ for being able to see that the little things in life are often far more important than anything else

~~ for family, as imperfect as they are

~~and last, but most definitely not least, I am incredibly thankful for the ladies who give me reason to smile every day, regardless of how close they are to me, or even if I’ve yet to meet them in person; wonderful and warm women who support me, encourage me, inspire me, humble me, remind me of who I am, and love me anyway. Women who seek me out, who point me out, who rave over what I do and jump with glee when they see me. Women who give me bone-crushing embraces while smiling to the end of the universe. Women who share their lives, their expertise, their failures and victories, their beautiful children, their humor and grace, and most of all, themselves……. people like Liz, Missy, Molly, Tracy, Darcie, Jennifer, Liz, Samara, Jen, Stephanie, Shaina, Crystal, Anna, Heather, Monika, Kristen, Chris Ann, Trish, Jen, Laura and Barb, Cindy ……. I suppose if I’m going to be thankful for these wonderful ladies, and the presence of them in my life then I need to also be thankful for Twitter because without that platform, and without me jumping in to it headfirst just one year ago, I wouldn’t have met any of them. And to try and stress how much it’s changed my life, and how grateful and thankful I am for them…. well, I would need an entire post to do that.

Well I did it now. I mentioned winter. And snow. And apparently tomorrow Minnesota will get it’s first significant snowfall.

But will we see something like this?

Or will it be more like this?

It sounds like it will be wet, and in our area North of the Twin Cities we might not see much at all. But for November 13, and after the most glorious Fall that I can remember, it’s all right that it’s coming. It’s time to move on.

And today I finally had my MRI to get a good look at what happened in the car accident. The vertigo, nausea and dizziness that came on seemed to magically fade as of only yesterday, which was a welcome relief. Still, the chiropractor wants to know that nothing really serious occurred.

I’ve only had one MRI before and I don’t recall much about it. This one wasn’t bad but it was really, really long. I was in that thing for like two hours. The only way to get through it, with the loud pounding noises happening right under my head was to try and think of some kind of explanation to attach to the sounds I was hearing so that I didn’t go crazy with boredom laying in that tiny tube. There was ‘Extreme Techno Pop’ sound, that made me feel like I was in a loud and throbbing dance club; there was ‘Pneumatic Construction Hammer’ sound so I imagined I was watching some construction guy with tree trunk arms busting up concrete,. There was the fun sound that seemed to be repeating ‘backpack! backpack! backpack!’ over and over. I couldn’t dream up any scenario to attach to that one though outside of a frantic kid who’d lost his backpack and was tearing around looking for it. There was ‘Super Charged Engine’ sound which made me dream of being in Mike’s Porsche on the open road, then also ‘Banging on Metal Pipes’ sound. That sort of made me want to tell someone to be quiet.  And through it all, the hum of the machine drummed through my head, often matching the rhythm of my heartbeat which was both odd and sometimes creepy. I did doze off slightly, I became wildly overheated, almost to a point of feeling feverish and I was famished by the time I was done.

So yeah. All in all it was….. uh, quite the experience and I am glad it’s over. I should know the results Monday at my next visit with the Chiropractor.

And it’s Friday. Which when you aren’t working means nothing. So I’ll leave you with a few things I am really grateful for today:

~~~The unfailing support of my spouse
~~~Services whose only goal is to help you get out from under an impossible situation.
~~~Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. (seriously, I love you guys. All of you.)
~~~Again, my new washer and dryer *sigh* (I have mad appliance love, folks)
~~~The right perspective
~~~ Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends.

Here’s the thing about the works going on in my kitchen; they aren’t perfect or always balanced although I do strive for the most nutritional value I can find. We don’t dine exquisitely, sampling wonderful fare every night. I don’t pore through cookbook after cookbook stuffing pages with notes, markings, tabs and ratings. Sometimes I don’t cook at all. Sometimes we graze. Sometimes I just look at my husband and ask him to go get us a pizza. Sometimes he does.

This is a Calzone stuffed with veggies and cheese and made with scratch dough. Mike did not bring this home.

I make burgers from scratch, and lots of soup. We do make our own pizza including dough for the crust, so those pizza seeking forays I send Mike on are fairly uncommon. We eat a lot of chicken, and we eat fish and pork. Beef is rare in our house but on occasion I will splurge on a good steak dinner for The Carnivore and I. I stock a good pantry with lots of canned goods like beans, tomatoes, tuna, salmon, rice and grains and other items that can help me to put a good meal together if I get stuck. I get stuck a lot. My husband loves vegetables and doesn’t care for much meat. My Teen loves meat. Every day. He eats vegetables but only grudgingly. Making these two happy isn’t always the easiest feat. But I do the majority of the cooking so I make what I want. If they don’t want to eat it, it’s not my problem. I’m no one’s short order cook. It works for us. I understand that it doesn’t work that way for everyone. But please don’t ask me what to do about your picky eater because I probably will tell you and you probably won’t like it.

That’s a Mediterranean Tuna Antipasto Salad. It was stellar.

Keeping a well-stocked kitchen, including pantry and freezer is vital to making dinnertime less of a hassle. Outside of a good stocked pantry, I keep my chest freezer full. I buy frozen vegetables like peas, green beans and corn (the only ones I think taste good from their frozen state). I keep lots of bread in the freezer, and hamburger buns, always stocking up when it’s on sale. I keep packages of frozen tilapia on hand. The brand I buy has individually wrapped filets in it that thaw quickly, making it a good option for last minute ideas. Like yesterday. At 4:00pm I had no clue what I was making for dinner. But by 5:30, we were eating Fish Tacos with rice and a Chipotle Corn Relish. And it all came out of the pantry or the freezer. On the plus side, I used up a few leftover items in the refrigerator from previous meals so there was utilization there as well. I’m not the type of cook that makes up two meals and freezes the second one, although sometimes I have. It’s nice when I do. I wish I was prone to do more of that.

This is version 1.0 of the Fish Taco. This is not last night’s Fish Taco,

I don’t write menu plans each week, opting instead to make a large list of foods that I wish to cook. These are ideas that are not regular occurrences in our kitchen, options that may require some ingredient to be on hand in order to make the dish. Like our favorite Healthy Sloppy Joes. Or Thai Thighs. Or Griffin’s favorite Indian Chicken, or the Jambalaya he loves. This list is where I try out new recipes and ideas. Some of them work. Some do not. If they’re wonderful and I think others would enjoy them too, then I will blog about them. I don’t blog about everything we eat or cook because that would be ridiculous. We have lots of repeats in our meals, and there are always food items on hand to make these repeats. The list is a guideline, and I shop from this list so I know what I can make based on what’s available.

That’s Roasted Rutabaga topped with Poached Eggs. Simple. Divine. Perfect.

And grocery shopping; we have a budget that we try to stick with. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t. We don’t eat out much due to financial constraints. When we do eat out, I like it to be at places that make food I can’t make at home so often our choices for dining out run to ethnic restaurants. We don’t do fast food although Griffin will eat it. When I grocery shop I use a list 90% of the time and I stick to it, avoiding any aisles that I don’t need to wander down. I rarely buy on impulse although I will purchase items on sale if I find them and then I try to utilize them if they aren’t on my meal list. I look at grocery ads but I don’t use coupons because I rarely find any that are for foods we eat. If I see a good sale at the grocer, I will stock up. I will make a special trip for it too if it’s worth it. Boneless chicken breasts on sale 2-for-1 is worth a trip. Kleenex on sale is not.

Nutella Pound Cake anyone?

I bake too, although not as much as I wish because I think my thighs are already a bit too chunky. But I make muffins, scones, quick breads, cakes, cookies and all other manner of yummy sweet treats. Many of these are for special occasions, like the cakes. My favorite items to bake are the muffins and quick breads. Griffin is good at making cookies and enjoys it a lot.

And speaking of that boy, he’s really stepped up his game in the kitchen and lately has made us some incredible meals. His confidence is much, much better and his skill is increasing exponentially. I love it when he cooks. Love. It.

I have a cupboard of cookbooks and I love them all but I don’t utilize them as much as I should. I have some go-to books for everything and my most favorite one is the Cooks Illustrated Best New Recipe. It’s a freaking monster of a book but it’s loaded with CI’s anal and detail oriented works and I know that the recipes are fool-proof and perfect. I have books I use for adding healthier recipes to our diet; I have ones that steer me towards comfort foods that I crave on occasion and cookbooks that I turn to for fancier inspiration. I have a few reference books to help me with questions, like the Food Lovers Companion. I have a few books that help me figure out substitutions if I somehow run out of an ingredient. I have some ethnic cookbooks that make me sigh with delight. A great deal of the inspiration I find for our meals comes from my food magazines – I get Eating Well, Bon Appetit and Saveur – and of course, the amazing and varied talent of my fellow food blogging friends.

Like these ladies. Just a handful of the local crew- fom left to right: Kelli, Amanda, Shaina, Stephanie, me and Crystal.

The wealth of information about food and cooking is staggering out there, and there’s something for everyone. It’s both overwhelming, frustrating (because there is a lot of BAD stuff out there too, and plenty of misinformation) and yet it’s also wonderful, varied, engaging and encouraging. This post is just about what I do, and as I said, it doesn’t work for everyone but this is what works for us. Our kitchen is truly the hum that resonates throughout our entire home, and also out into the world via this blog.

And just for kicks, I’m passing along one of my favorite and quick pantry recipes for 3-Bean Chili.

I love this steaming and soothing pot of chili and it comes together so fast (well, if you have the items on hand) and yet it tastes like it simmered all day. Full of fresh peppers, along with three kinds of canned beans and a big can of tomatoes, it’s so satisfying and good for you. Skip the bacon if it isn’t your thing. We never use it in this recipe but I imagine it adds amazing flavor.

Quick Three Bean Chili

From Food and Wine magazine, April 2008

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
3 slices of bacon, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch strips
1 onion, cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 jalapeños, seeded and cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup chili powder
One 15-ounce can Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed
One 15-ounce can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
One 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
One 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 cups chicken stock or low-sodium broth
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
Chopped cilantro and sour cream, for serving

In a medium soup pot, heat the oil until hot. Add the bacon, onion, jalapeños and garlic and cook over moderately high heat until the onion is softened and the bacon fat has been rendered, about 5 minutes. Add the chili powder and cook over moderate heat until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in the beans, tomatoes and stock and bring to a simmer. Simmer the chili over moderately low heat until thickened, about 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and serve with cilantro and sour cream.Kate’s Notes: I used a can of chili beans- pinto beans in chili spices, unrinsed! – in place of regular pinto beans; I had it on hand and it worked beautifully. I also reduced the chili powder to 2 tablespoons due to the presence of the chili spices in the beans.

Remember Magnetic Poetry? Those kits with all the tiny magnetic words that you could put on your fridge and get creative with?

Well I had a book- a magnetic poetry book with a pouch and a magnet board. I used to like to keep it in the car when Griffin was younger, and sometimes he would play with it and try to make words, but really, he wasn’t much of a poet at 5 or 6.

I was though. Sort of. I enjoy poetry and have written some pretty decent words, some that date back to 1987. I guess that ability to paint pictures with words flows from that into this writing here, hmm?

But recently, I pulled that old magnetic poetry book out of the bookshelf. I swear I haven’t looked at it in a decade. I opened the cover and found this inside:

Not bad, huh?

{this photo makes me weep- it’s my Mom, and Griffin when he was 2 weeks old}

My boy is a Junior in High School this year. I repeat this to myself often, trying to implant it in my head in a way that makes it sound familiar enough, like I’m truly talking about my own child instead of some stranger who hangs around my life.

I only have a few friends with kids the age of my own. We can commiserate on parenting teenagers, watching them grow and evolve and it helps to see another set of eyes grow wide in wonder at the amazing transformation that happens right in front of us. But a lot of my friends are parenting young still; they’re experiencing potty-training, weaning, first days of school and all sorts of other milestones that have already faded to sepia tones in my own mind. They lament the startling rate at which their children are growing, and yearn to keep them young. I want to embrace them because I understand. But I also want to tell them ‘The best is yet to come.’ And I truly mean that.

I’ll never wish for my son to be young again. I won’t. Beyond the fact that he’s just so much of an amazement to me, I look back at our life then, and for us, so much was different. And it wasn’t always fun. I parented single-handedly, with a few dedicated adults that lent solidity to my son’s life. But it was a lonely and empty existence sometimes. There was no one to ease my worries as I sped to the Emergency Room in the middle of the night (twice in one month, people) with a sobbing, anguished child in the backseat. There wasn’t an option of rest at the end of a long and tiring day, someone to make dinner while I tried to push the stress out of my head. No one else was there to assemble the tricycle, teach the proper way to swing a bat or encourage the training wheels to come off. At the same time, and at the opposite end of the spectrum, no one else saw the first bowling strike, the first homerun, the first exclamation of “My tooth came out!!” or the triumphant first circling of the driveway on a two-wheeler. I get to cherish those memories alone. I got to teach the importance of a bike helmet by pointing out the dent that took that first impact. I got to hold the hand of a nervous boy the first time he sat in a dentist’s chair. I got to see his face as he confidently told me that he didn’t need me to walk into his Kindergarten class with him anymore. It is both lovely, and bittersweet. Even as the tone of them fades in my memory with the clang of an ever-changing clock, no one can take them away from me. No one.

There are times my boy comes rolling down the stairs in the morning and I am still shocked at the young man in my house. But I am not sad to see him grow, evolve and become the person he was created to be. This is exciting. This is an adventure. Those firsts are all behind us and his entire life is forming and beginning to unfold now. And I am amazed. I’m humbled. And I’m pleased. When people tell me how polite he is, I barely am able to thank them because I’m too busy thanking myself for never giving up on the constant, day-in and day-out reinforcement of teaching him manners, even when I would have rather torn out my fingernails before reminding him to say ‘Thank You’ or ‘Excuse me’ again. When the girl cousins tell me how nice it is that he puts the toilet seat down, again, I feel better about the thousands of times I hauled him back into the bathroom and made him put the seat down himself until he got it on his own. You put it up, you put it down. You take it out, you put it back. If you open it, you close it. Every day, every month, every year, for years on end thinking I would go mad with the repetition. When it pays off on it’s own, and my friends- IT WILL- you will feel the same that I do. It isn’t pride, really. It’s the inherent satisfaction of a long and difficult task that’s finally- finally!!- shown it’s just rewards.

I may have, at some time felt the urge to keep my boy at a certain age forever, but as he grew I realized that I don’t have to wish for that anymore because it’s already there. It’s just there in memory, but it’s the sweetest memories of all because as he grows, I can look back and see just how far he’s come. I’m excited to see what his life will do in the years ahead. I do have my own wishes where his life is concerned, and they are far more selfish because they’re for me, not for him. I wish to never forget the first time he smiled, or laughed, or said “Ma!” or the sound of his voice before he went through puberty. I wish to never forget the look on his face when he finally got something, when he fully understood for the first time. I wish to never forget how empathetic he was a young boy, the time he sat by my side at the tender age of three, stroking my hair as I lay on the floor crying, trying to ease the pain of a terrible backache. Or the time, stuck in rush hour traffic on a snowy December afternoon and going nowhere, that we talked about how excited he was for Christmas to come, and he says to me- all of five years old- “Mom, it’s too bad that you have to spend Christmas without your Mom.” I wish to never forget, at maybe 2-1/2, when he wanted to call his beloved Uncle Mike, my brother (that’s them above, BFF’s now and forever), and when the answering machine came on he said loudly “Pees call me yater.” I wish to never forget how he loved to help me with everything I did, so I’d put a sponge in his hands or give him a dust cloth and allow him to clean to his hearts desire, even if it took him an hour to do one simple job that would have taken me 5 minutes. And I especially don’t want to forget when I told him that I’d met someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and he smiled and said “That means he’d be my Dad, right?”

I can look at him now and see the person that I envisioned sixteen years ago, as he lay his chubby baby cheeks on my chest and gazed up at me with his perfect love. I can see that I’ve given him a firm foundation to base himself on, that he can speak for himself because I gave him a voice, that he can stand up for what he believes because I first believed in him, that he can laugh himself silly at how ridiculous life can be because I had to show him that even as beautiful as it is, it will never be perfect. I can see how resilient he is because he learned from me that not everyone will be his friend. I can see the good choices he makes because I gave him room to choose for himself. I see how he aptly deflects the pain of life because I never lied to him about how the world will hurt, how life is often unfair and how difficult some days may be. It went against the very instinct of parenting sometimes, but I knew he would never survive if I sheltered him, kept him safe within the circle of my arms or never let him know the truth. It’s better for him to see the world through the filter of my eyes than to be pushed into it with no ability to cope.

I loved him enough to do that for him, and to show him anger, frustration, pain, sorrow, grief and despair. I loved him enough to discipline him, sometimes with severity. Yet I also loved him enough to explain why I felt all those emotions, and why for his entire life he was going to have to follow rules so it was best that he start now, not to mention being strong and humble enough to apologize if my feelings made me into an ogre. I always made sure he was aware that it was his behavior that disappointed me, not him, and while I may not have liked what he did, I still loved him more than anyone else on Earth. As he grew and changed, I learned also to forgive myself for the bad times, for telling myself I was a horrible parent when we had a rotten day and for thinking I was doing irrevocable damage by those punishments. Because, you know what? He doesn’t remember it. He just remembers the love, the lap time, the stories before bed and the talking we would do before he fell asleep.

Two years ago when he entered High School, I knew it would be but a blink and a sigh before we were planning his graduation. I’m OK with that. I’m OK with the young man who roams my house, loves his friends and his music, his video games and God. I’m OK with the young man emerging, spreading his wings and learning to fly. I’m OK if he comes home and heads to his room, covering his ears with his headphones, tuning me out. I give him the space and he’ll come out eventually. I’ll be waiting for him when he does. I’m OK with requests for ice cream, Mavericks roast beef sandwiches, and the occasional steak. I’m OK with our cribbage games, even when he skunks me. And I’m OK with knowing that all too soon he’ll be off on his own and showing the world what he can do, with that amazing smile, his politeness and helpful attitude and the ability to put the seat down.