love languages…

The church I go to is a coffee house.

I don’t mean it’s like a coffee house, or that I go to a coffee house instead of church.
My church IS a coffee house.
Monday-Saturday they serve up warm, and cold, bevs for wonderful people. On Sudays the coffee bar is closed and we worship.

One of the coolest things about the whole deal, and believe me there are many, is that most everyone that works the espresso machine or cash register is a volunteer. The tips go to the baristas, but otherwise they recieve no monetary compensation. I like to think they’re there because they love the crap out of people. It’s pretty legit.

A good friend of mine used to volunteer the closing shift on Monday nights and soon that night became dinner and game night at the kitchen table closest to the bar. Sometimes there would be four of us sharing a meal and playing Bananagrams, other nights the table would be packed full of hungry bodies. We would feed anyone that walked by if there was enough food, and there usually was, but a few times we actually had to coerce people into eating with us. Every Monday night felt like a piece of the kingdom to come.

It’s been a few years since we started Monday night dinners and life has changed. Friends have moved away, only to come back in my case, and now there are new baristas working the Monday night shift. Our tradition slipped into nostalgia with the blink of an eye. It’s sad to think about how effortless it was to let go of something that made me feel so at home.

This past Monday, however, our nostalgia dusted itself off, put on a schmancy new suit, and met eight hungry mouths at the table, the one closest to the bar. It felt right. We ate a delicious meal, played a heated game of “Vegas” Rack-o, and laughed like life was a stand-up routine…a good one.

It was easy to fall back into a rythym and feel at home again. Maybe because we were on familiar ground, a place that is heavy with the aroma of coffee and promise of comfort.

Maybe it was that we shared a “gourmet” meal together.

Or, maybe, it’s because we still love each other like it’s the only language we know how to speak.

I am blessed to have the kind of friends that speak my language. The kind who will undertake an instense period of fasting together, or yearn to live in intentional community with each other. The ones who have refrigerator rights in my house, or open the front door without knocking. Friends who intercess on my behalf, without my prompting them to. People I choose to do life alongside. Family.

I am blessed and so, overwhelmingly, thankful.

It’s easy to remember we’re supposed to be thankful in this season where holidays whir past, but it’s not always easy to actually be thankful. From Halloween to the New Year there seems to be a never ending haze of shopping, wrapping, eating, and generally blazing through the shortened winter days on autopilot. As time goes by we seem to wrap up each year by forgetting what should matter most. And smack dab in the middle of the season is a day where we are supposed to be nothing but thankful.

I tend to get a bit cynical about being thankful as a tradition. It seems forced.

I’m not trying to imply that people are disingenous with their thankfulness, but rather that it becomes a little less meaningful when we voice it only one day a year. Kind of like when you say a word over and over and suddenly it’s gibberish.

It’s almost as if the tradition takes away from the spirit that the day is rooted in.

A day of honoring the things of highest import, coming home, and remembering who you are.

A day of sitting at a table, the one closest to the bar, and loving others like it’s the only language you know.

That is what I will be doing this Thanksgiving, speaking my language over some great food. That’s what I try to do everyday, but more than anything I will try to remain rooted in the spirit of the day by remembering who I am with a little help from those that love me and gratitude for the things I have never been entitled to.

~m.c

dishes. and stoup…

It was a Tuesday evening in our quiet neighborhood.
Life was plodding along at the pace of paint drying everywhere,  or so it seemed. Everywhere except my kitchen.
I was standing at the sink furiously scrubbing nearly every dish I own, while letting loose a string of expletives in my head(That’s right. I’m a lady.), trying to clear away the evidence of the copious amount of time I had spent in the heart of my home for the three days prior. It’s what you do, when your expecting guests, and your house looks like a bomb went off.
I had used up those dishes baking bread, canning sauerkraut, rolling puff pastry, making goat cheese, and so on. And in the time it took to do all of that I forgot, conveniently, that I was piling up a mound of dirty dishes.
So Tuesday found me trying to look like a resposible adult by washing said dishes.
It took awhile, long enough that I hadn’t started dinner by the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around, which made my stomach angry, which made me hangry.
It’s a word, for reals.
Hangriness is what happens when you are so hungry that you get angry about things that normally wouldn’t even register on the negative-emotions scale.
Maybe hangry isn’t the right word. I was more cranky and hungry. Crungry? Huranky? Either way, I was that. Hungry, cranky, tired…shall I keep going?
So, when the dishes were finally done, and our guests weren’t able to make it(all that speed washing for nothing) I wanted food in my belly, like, yesterday. The problem was we didn’t have even a crumb of leftovers in our fridge.
So I threw together what was supposed to be soup, but ended more like a stew/soup. Stoup.
It filled my belly with warmth, and good feelings, and I forgave the world all the ills it had done me while standing at that sink…I even forgave the wrinkly fingers.
I’m benevolent when my belly is full of lentils.

Benevolence in a Bowl

1 Cup dried green lentils
2 cups vegetable stock
2ish cups water-I started boiling the lentils in the stock but had to add almost 2 cups of water before they were fully cooked.
3 medium carrots, sliced
1 cup? butternut squash, cubed-just add whatever looks good to you
1/2 a medium onion, sliced
1 large clove garlic, minced
splash of cream
salt and pepper to taste

Here’s the really tricky part…I used some leftover french onion soup for the broth. About 3 cups, I think. I’m betting not everyone has delicious, homemade french onion soup laying around their house, so maybe you could substitute with veggie broth, or some store bought soup. Sorry if I sound snooty when I say this, but I’m guessing that no matter what you sub in it won’t taste nearly as good as the french onion my roommate made, just had to throw that out there.

Anyway…
Cook lentils in broth until tender, as I said before I had to keep adding water to fully cook the lentils. Maybe I’m just not cooking them correctly, or paying enough attention. I don’t know.
Boil carrots and squash…until tender.
Saute onion and garlic until onion is translucent

Add vegetables and letils to leftover soup. Stir in splash of cream(you can leave this out, I liked that it kind of thickened the liquid, it’s up to you) and simmer until warm. Salt and pepper to taste.
Scarf it down.

The stoup was good that night, but after sitting overnight the leftovers were wonderful. I served it with chunks of the bread I baked, recipe here.

Make it. Eat it. Love it.

And for heavens sake don’t let hangriness happen to you.

~miss.creation

some days…

Some days life is just good, in a completely innocuous way. These are the days when there are no ‘big announcements’ made in your presence, no awards presented to you or your nemesis, and no terrible news is spilled over your cup of coffee.

Some days you can laugh at nothing, hang your arm out the car window, and drink in a little bit of sunshine.

They are virtually unremarkable, carbon copies of numerous other days,  and yet these days are the proverbial meat-and-potatoes of life. For me, at least, days like this are the bridges, pauses, deep breaths between days that feel like a little too much.

I appreciate their beauty. I love their simplicity, and the way I seem to carry a smile on my face that stems from, nothing less than, a piece of happiness. In my abundantly satisfied state I vow to remember how blessed I am. I claim that I will rejoice, over this one day, when life gets to be a steep climb, instead of a leisurely stroll.

I forget easily, those promises that I make.

the perfect storm…

The clouds rolled in dark and heavy, a sublime blessing ready to kiss the hardpacked earth, and as the thunder started sounding I left off doing the things that needed to be done. I threw open windows and filled my hungry lungs with rain sweetened air.

I took to my bed, with book in hand, and reverently indulged in my rainy day with life-bred hymns.

The Perfect Storm

~miss.creation

the power of guilt, and potatoes…

Disclaimer: I started this post months ago…and promptly forgot about it. So I’ll serve it up now…with a smile and a shrug. Enjoy!

Remember how in my last post I said I had given up pre-packaged items for Lent?

Well I’m here to confess I bought Campanelle(pasta) last week. Already bagged.

I know, I know EPIC FAIL…but on the bright side, the dinner I made was like a circus for my taste buds. Here’s the skinny.

It was a bright, and un-seasonably warm, Thursday afternoon and I was thinking about what I would make for dinner. Being that I was expecting guests that evening, I was rolling thoughts of pasta over and around the creative parts of my brain. I enjoy pasta, probably a bit more than your average Joe, and as a direct result it tends to be my go to ‘base’ when I need to feed a few people…because, as previously stated, this girl is mostly vegetarian.

So there I am, enjoying a swell breeze, and playing with the kiddos I nanny for, when…*lightbulb*…I think “I should make pasta with a sweet potato sauce” YUM!<—-sidenote, I also love sweet potatoes. And just like that hi-ho-hi-ho back to work I go.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t made the pasta, from scratch, ahead of time. Or maybe it was that I had been so ambitious as to think said pasta, and the rest of dinner, could be prepared and on the table in 2 hours time. Or maybe it was simply something floating along in the wonderful breeze, but whatever it was decided that was the day I would get off work an hour later than usual.

I was running an hour late, standing in the pasta aisle at the grocery store, and chanting “I will NOT feel bad about this.” over and over again trying to make myself, well, not feel bad about it. I grudgingly picked up two bags of Camapanelle and unceremoniously tossed them into my basket. And felt bad. Real bad.

Somehow during this “experiment” I’ve conjured a trait that, seemingly, all mothers have cultivated to perfection…guilt. I’m really good at shaking my head, and sighing, anytime I throw anything into the garbage can. I can hear myself saying ’I'm not mad, I’m just really disappointed.’… I’m going to be a great Mom someday.

Thankfully the amount of calories I later consumed made a little ball of comfort in my belly that helped to plug the gaping hole of disappointment. Dinner was tasty. Even the pasta.

Guilty As All Get-Out Sweet Potato And Pear Pasta-To ease the guilt…

Sauce:
18 oz sweet potato
2 cp milk
1 1/2 tsp cumin
1 tsp salt
dash oregano

Caramelized Pear: I could have used more of the pear…maybe double it.
4 Tb olive oil
1/8 cp brown sugar
1 pear

Pasta: as you know I used Campanelle…the curly edges caught the sauce in a sweet little embrace and didn’t let go, it was a beautiful dance. I made enough for four.

Peel the skin off the potatoes and cook them(boil, bake, microwave. Your choice. I popped them in the micro.) until it can be pierced, easily, with a fork.
While the potatoes are cooking wisk olive oil and brown sugar together in a bowl. Slice the pear and coat with the oil and sugar. Lay the slices on a baking sheet and bake at about 400° until bubbly and tender.
Boil the pasta.
After the potatoes are nice and done mash them up a little and scoop them into the bowl of a food processor. Add the milk, cumin, salt, and oregano and liquify to your hearts content.
At this point your sweet potato sauce may have cooled, heat it up a bit.

Now lay a little bed of pasta in a bowl, drown it in a healthy dollop of sauce, gently place a few pieces of pear on top, and drizzle some of the caramel sauce over it.

Go ahead and nosh!

~miss.creation

p.s. My dinner guests and I enjoyed our meal, and each others company, so much that I neglected to take pictures…sorry. Use your wonderful imagination, or just make it yourself!

garden variety rock…

Living in the middle of a city doesn’t always lend to living sustainably, especially when your yard is full of rocks…literally.

I moved into my apartment almost a year and a half ago and at that time the front lawn vaguely resemble a desert with a grassy patch every so often. It wasn’t ideal, but it was workable, and I had plans to cultivate that desert into a lush jungle(yeah, that might be an overexageration as my thumb is not exactly the truest color of green) until the Landlords decided to Xeri-scape our lawn.

One day I came home to find a mound of rocks sitting in the yard and the Landlords gently raking them “smooth”, like one of those desk top sand gardens. My heart sank as I watched my beautiful, brown grass disappear. They were, however, sweet enough to provide us with a wonky raised bed, filled with dirt harder than the rocks surrounding it.

As I languished in despair over my lost dreams of an entire lawn covered in tomatoes and kitchen herbs, my RM and I started making plans for the raised bed, carefully plotting out the space we had and what should fill it. We decided we should plant the bed AND make a few of those handy pallet gardens that have been sauntering their way around the blogosphere, to allow for more produce. Until we thought about how we were going to store said pallet gardens during the winter.

That’s when we signed up for a CSA. We figured since the small garden we have couldn’t ever produce enough to sustain the 100 Mile Diet we are planning for the summer(I’m sure there will be more about this later), we needed another food source.

That’s where we stood about two weeks ago, optimistic about our impending shares of crop and the few seedlings we started for our “garden”. Until I remembered we had no fresh herb source. No source and nowhere to plant them.

So I came up with this adorable indoor herb garden. Hope you like it because I sure do!

I found two tension rods and a piece of molding, at a resale shop, for less than $2.00. Then bought hose clamps(like for a dryer hose, but smaller), spray paint, and plastic flower pots elsewhere. I had screws and some corkboard at home.

I sprayed it all with Krylon Fusion spray paint that seems to adhere to just about anything. Remember to paint in a well ventilated area.

I had to attach some small cork squares to the molding after I noticed the flower pots were tipping forward. The cork pieces sit behind the pots, to level them out, and are barely noticeable.

I attched the pots with two screws to make sure they would hold once the dirt, plant, and water was added.

Getting the molding on the tension rod was a little tricky. I had to make a hole, big enough for a screw, in the hose clamps. It took a while, but using a screwdriver and wire cutter I got it done, I’ll spare you the expletives that came out of my mouth in the process. I screwed the clamps to the molding, one at the top and bottom. The tension rod slipped through them nicely and the clamps were tightened around the rod. Next the planters were put into place and, well, planted!

There are two vertical planters and they reside on either side of our sink. The planters cost about $20 for materials, not including the plants and potting soil. I love them and can smell the Kentucky mint while doing the dishes. Makes me want a Mojito.

~miss.creation

when she got there…the cupboard was bare

Last night my roommate and I marveled over our trash can together. Strange, right? I know. But there’s a good reason.

We haven’t put our trash out for a month now.

I know that may sound as though we are living in squalor and filth, but I’m telling you that’s not the case. Not only have we been using the same trash bag for a month we have also greatly reduced the amount of recycling in our bin.

How? Well for Lent we gave up pre-packaging. ‘Ludicrous!’ you say? Not so much. Difficult? Somewhat. Worth it? Definitely!

The two of us tend to lean towards the planet loving, healthy, hippie end of the spectrum and so for us not only are we excited that we’ve reduced our waste, but also that we cut out a lot in the way of preservatives.

What does ‘no pre-packaging’ mean?

Well first off we allowed a few ‘cheat’ items…Milk, Eggs, Butter, and Cheese. Here’s why. Our milk is delivered in re-usable glass jars by a local dairy, so I hardly call this a cheat. Eggs and cheese are very difficult to find without packaging, and eggs happen to be one of our largest sources of protein, since we are almost completely meat free. And butter? Well I admit, I was being lazy, and practical, when I set this one. I just didn’t want to commit to making all of our butter for 40 days…sue me.

Other than those four allowances we have endeavoured to shop entirely in the produce and bulk sections, at the grocery, and at the farmers market. We have re-usable bulk and produce bags, so there were no flimsy-plastic baggies finding their way into our cart.

So, to sum it up, for the last 30-or so days we haven’t brought any new ‘trash’ into our house.

Well, almost. Last week I really wanted a cocktail…I caved and bought some Ginger Ale to go with my Bourbon. And some jarred olives. And Ben & Jerry’s. But really, I’d had a bad day, and who can blame a girl?

This interesting little ‘project’, as I mentioned before, hasn’t been completely smooth sailing.

About a week in I had invited some friends over for dinner and promised fajitas to munch, which meant that the tortillas had to be hand-made and the black beans pre-soaked (no cans remember?). And I forgot to prepare the beans. Luckily my aforementioned roommate was a life saver and had remembered the beans the night before.

So, I tell you all of that to tell you this. I’m slacking. We are both slacking.

We haven’t gone shopping in quite a while. We still have quite a lot of dry goods, but fresh food, not so much. We’re living off the dregs of our produce.

Which is why I had this moment of panic on my way home last night. WHAT AM I GOING TO MAKE FOR DINNER?

You see for a couple of girls who don’t really eat meat fresh veggies are the main ingredient in our sustenance. And yesterday all we had left in the way of garden-grown lovelies were a few potatoes, an onion, some carrots, and a gaggle of seriously wilty celery stalks. Sad really. And then a stroke of brilliance hit.

The Cupboard Was Bare Pot Pie. 
*These are the ingredients and amounts that I used. And we could have used a bit more in the way of veggies.
Yield-8 servings

1 Pate Brisee recipe< make first as it needs to chill for an hour. We separated it into four pieces.

4 smallish, semi wrinkly Red Potatoes
1/2 a previously used Yellow Onion
4 medium, root growing, jellyfish-looking Carrots
5-8 small to large sad, yellowy Celery Stalks
1/3 cup butter
1 Tbs minced garlic
2/3 cup flour
2/3 cup half & half
1 3/4 cup vegetable broth
Salt & Pepper to taste

Oven to 425°

First chop up all your veggies, I cubed the taters, sliced the carrots, celery, and onion. Then boil the carrots and potatoes until tender. Drain and rinse with cold water.

While boiling the root veg’s, sauté the celery, onions, and garlic in the butter. When onions are translucent, and your kitchen smells like heaven, stir in the flour until combined. Next slowly stir in the half & half, and broth. Simmer liquid mixture on medium heat until thick. Remove from heat…find spoon, dip in sauce, lick clean. Survey the kitchen to make sure your roommate isn’t going to catch you. Repeat: dip spoon-lick clean, with the dirty spoon. It’s the simple pleasures in life. Really.

So, here’s the thing, I used four bowls to bake our pot pies in. Four ‘Fiestaware’ cereal bowls. They’re fairly wide across the top, and shallow. If you have something similar use it. If you want to make it in one big pie plate, fine. If you feel like making it in coffee mugs, cool. Whatever you have/choose to make it in is your decision, but make sure it’s oven safe and realize the bake time will probably be different. Actually, the bake time will probably be different anyway since I live at almost 5000 ft. and my oven runs hot. But anywho…where were we?

Baking containers…right. So choose your prefered pot pie receptacle. Evenly distribute the potato and carrot mixture in the bottom of said receptacle. Squoosh equal amounts of liquid mixture on top of that. Gently lay your pie crust over top of it all. Like a blankie tucking in all of that preciousness for a 30 min, boiling hot nap. Just. Like. That.

Cut a slit in the crust and pop the goodness in the oven. Bake for 30, or so, minutes. The crust should be golden brown and the insides should be bubbling and gurgling like it’s begging you to scarf it down, but don’t. Not yet.

Take a little bit of white vinegar and brush it over the crust. Bake about 5 more minutes. Remove from oven.

Now, this is CRUCIAL, let the beauties rest and cool!!!! If you don’t two things will happen:

1. The pot pie will not taste quite as good because you haven’t allowed the flavors to meld together and because…
2. YOU WILL BURN THE HELL OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! No joke. So bad that the roof of your mouth will start to peel because the deliciousness inside that bowl is trying that self-preservation, survival of the fittest thing by becoming magma hot. And you think ‘it’s got to be about good’ so you dunk your spoon/fork/spork in there, breaking the perfect crust on the way, and pull out a steaming scoop and blow on it, for all of two seconds, then stick it in your mouth and immediately regret that decision. Taste buds scorched, dignity in the toilet (because you know how awesome you looked with your mouth open, sucking air in and out like a fish out of water, trying to cool that bite down so you don’t have to spit it back out, and grimacing in pain) you resolve to wait. And repeat the same process a minute later.

Do yourself a huge favor…skip the torture. Cut some more slits in the top leave them on the stove and walk away. For a good 10-20 minutes. I know it’s difficult. So find something to do. Wash some dishes(yeah right), troll the internet, have an impromptu dance party, something, anything to keep your itching fingers from picking up a utensil and shoving the equivalent of lightning down your throat. Promise? Good.

When the appropriate time has passed and you no longer have a volcano sitting in front of you…eat up! But, please, don’t forget to savor it. Love!

~miss.creation