Sometimes it’s baby steps, once in a while a joyous leap; but most of the time I’m just falling forward.
I wish I could remember who introduced me to the idea of cookies for breakfast- I’d like to give them a big kiss! This may be the coffee and cookies I had for breakfast speaking:)
What makes cookies OK for breakfast? Well, these are lower in sugar and higher in fiber. And if I ever feel the need to rationalize what I am eating for breakfast, I can always point to Coco Puffs (full of nutritious vitamins and minerals) and suddenly feel superior.
Tuesday evening, I arrived home exhausted from a flurry of a day at the hospital when I noticed the garden gates flung wide open. Gingerly limping on my aching feet (good old plantar fasciitis, the nemesis of nurses) to the garden, I was shocked to see shreds of plants strewn all over the ground. My first thought was a family of moose had just enjoyed a dinner and dance party in our vegetable garden, but then I remembered I’m not in Kansas (Alaska) anymore. The ground was wet, so obviously a storm and had just come by, but the damage was far worse than wind alone could have accomplished. One of my housemates explained that a powerful wind and hail storm had just stopped by for a visit, leaving colossal carbohydrate carnage as his hostess gift (I didn’t invite him over to begin with.) Too tired and exasperated to survey the full extent of damage, I took my son out to dinner. On our trek to find tacos, we drove by a young apple orchard with dozens of uprooted trees. It was a very sobering sight, knowing the labor and money those farmers had invested and just lost.
It’s not natural to my personality to peacefully accept a major change of plans, loss, or inefficiency; I was type A since toddlerhood and my earliest memories revolve around what I wanted to accomplish and how I could motivate those around me to cooperate. Ask my siblings; they laugh about my slave driving tendencies as a juvenile, and my comical moments of pulling on their ears in frustration while trying to get them to clean their rooms or sweep the kitchen.
One dark, arctic winter day my friend Miriam and I were restless with cabin fever, so we decided to try to make some chap stick (we used lots of that stuff in Alaska!) and we wanted it to be like Burt’s Bee peppermint lip balm. Ten minutes later we had 20 tubes of peppermint perfection at a fraction of the price Burt charges! This is much simpler than making soap- no chemical reactions to control- it’s just melt and pour.
Yesterday I took a deep breath before diving into a painful chore list. After burying my sweet broody hen and her almost hatched eggs in the compost pile, I chopped down seven beautiful eight-foot-tall apple trees we planted as seedlings; for two and a half years I’ve fussed over them with natural sprays, homemade compost and water (their first summer was a record drought and our irrigation broke, so I hauled five gallon buckets through the orchard to keep them alive.) Isaac and Grace scurried with me to catch our three pet garden ducks so I could deliver them to the butcher; trying to beat the rain, I frantically shoveled a truckload of mulch in the exhausting effort to save large parts of the garden Bermuda grass continues to hold hostage despite an entire winter of laying feed sacks and mulch to control it. The evening found me reseeding and replanting the many tomatoes, squash, peppers and berries that I’ve already replanted and replaced two or three times this year.
There are many similar variations of spinach-artichoke dip out there, this one is my favorite due to lots of fresh garlic and real parmesan cheese. Last Christmas I decided to make a series of appetizers throughout the day- turned out to be more enjoyable and much less time consuming (as much of it can be done ahead.) Spinach artichoke dip tends to play center stage for such occasions as so many healthy additions can play along- raw carrots, peppers, zucchini, broccoli, cauliflower, apples etc. I confess this photo came from an evening when spinach dip was our main dish. Hey- I worked all day, needed a photo in order to write this overdue post and we ate lots of veggies with it. I’m shaking off the guilt as I type! Dare I admit that I took leftovers for lunch the next day and didn’t share? I might be in trouble now…….
I used to admire those verdant, lush grapevines, defiantly creeping over fences and barns, growing gigantic from years of neglect. Artistic and free, one has to marvel at their natural beauty; but when I began to focus on fruit production I learned to view all that greenery as a thief to the ultimate goal, sweet grapes. Sugar content is the key to good wine, and sweetness is what one hopes to experience when they crunch down on a grape.
Our neighbors are always appreciative of Grace’s impulse baking sprees- especially on a shortbread day. Four ingredients and a few simple steps is all that’s needed to mix up these melt in your mouth gems. Be careful- they are addictive!!
3 cups of flour (some recipes call for 1/2 cake flour, we just use general purpose)
1/2 cup sugar (my family recipe uses brown sugar, but Grace’s recipe is white)
1 1/2 cup (3 sticks) butter (NOT margarine)
2 tsp vanilla (Grace’s personal touch)
optional: 1-2 TBSP fresh lemon zest and lemon extract instead of vanilla
Continue reading “Grace’s Amazing Scottish Shortbread Cookies”
After a lifetime in Alaska enduring REAL winters, I’m surprised to find myself suffering an intense case of spring fever while living in the south. It didn’t even get “cold” until December, snow is rare (and it melts within a few days), and it’s warm enough to work outside year round. Yet, the trees are naked, the flowers vanished and the fields monochrome brown, frozen in time. I’m anxious for color, growth and birdsong. While traveling familiar backroads, my heart deflates to see how ugly and dead the land appears- not a leaf or flower in sight.
I always envied the fun moms (like mine) who loved to play, threw epic birthday parties and made ordinary days exciting, and I secretly worried that my kids were missing out due to my boringness. I much preferred to clean the kitchen or bake a pan of cinnamon rolls to being tortured with Monopoly or Chutes and Ladders. My children figured out at a young age that if they wanted to be with Mom, they had to come to the kitchen. As my first baby climbed on a chair and “helped” me do dishes, I decided to always encourage their presence, even if it meant a messy mop job after they “did the dishes.” This conscious decision has led to years of companionship and five children who know how to clean and cook- a very worthwhile investment! Thankfully, they had a playful father and grandparents to cover what I lacked in the fun department.