Thoughtful Spot

A Party Without Cake. . .?

On St. Paddy's Day, we celebrated MamaNana's birthday. . .with three cakes.

Trying to be sensible, we limited ourselves to three cakes. . .nothing more. . .oh, wait, there was ice cream (chocolate chip mint - yum).

There were the dairy-free cake pops. . .

And the gluten-free chocolate torte. . .

And the bad cake. . .almond-scented white cake (not for those with dairy, wheat, or nut allergies).

Little Lori (who is 23) baked ALL day on Saturday.

Home-made cakes scented the house for a full twelve hours.

Heaven will smell like a house baking cakes. Somewhere in Heaven, i'm sure of it. 

Humble Hummus

Today, i made hummus. This is not a picture of my hummus.  Mine turned out a little green. 

But it is yummy. And garlic-y, which i like very much.

Hummus Recipe

1 15oz. can garbanzo beans (chick peas), drained
1.5 oz. poblano pepper, sliced (or jalepeno, which is a lot hotter)
3/8 tsp ground cumin
1.5 T lemon juice
2 cloves of garlic
1/4 C tahini or olive oil (or as needed)

Combine the first 5 ingredients in a food processor or blender until smooth. Drizzle in the tahini or olive oil until the mixture reaches desired consistency. (i drizzled 1/4 c of tahini which made the hummus creamy, and then drizzled 1 T of olive oil to give it flavor and shine.)

Serve with toasted pitas, raw veggies, or crackers.

or Veggie Stix. Which are, of course, real vegetables. Yes, they are.

i told you it was green. 

 i made my own nutrition label by loading the ingredients into the Recipe Builder at myfooddiary.com. 

i need another label to write down all the things i've learned about hummus today. For example, it is considered the perfect food and one of the oldest foods. It is very good for you.

Did you know that hummus is in the Bible? A fellow over at the Hummus Blog suggests that it is so.

The first time Ruth and Boaz met in Bethlehem, he offered her some humus: “And at meal-time Boaz said unto her, Come hither, and eat of the bread, and dip thy morsel in the hometz” ~ Ruth 2:14

i think it is lovely that every time i dip a veggie stix into my humble hummus, i think of sweet Ruth and her Kinsman Redeemer.

 It seems every moment of the day, no matter how mundane, i catch the trailing scent of the LORD's presence. . .as if He were there just ahead of me, leaving a trail of simple, ordinary grace gifts to follow. . .

Are you feeling a little disconnected right now? Might i suggest this post today: As it turned out, she found herself. . .

 

Broad Spheres of Gold. . .Fruit of the Tangled Vine

Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored;
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before;
What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,
What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?
                ~John Greenleaf Whitter, The Pumpkin, 1850 

ManCakes for Sunday Breakfast

Early Sunday morning, i slipped from bed and headed for the kitchen to surprise my Big Guy with a special breakfast. First, the cast iron skillet and the Bella Cucina Buffet Server. . .

Then the brown sugar bacon (recipe here) baked in the oven. Super crispy with a touch of smoky sweet. . .omigoodness.
                                           ~photo from kitchenscoop.com
Baking the bacon in the oven left my stove top free for cooking the toasted-cheese-scrambled eggs and Mancakes.

Toasted Cheese Scramble
8 to 10 eggs, beaten until well mixed (the frothier the mix, the fluffier the eggs will be. Go ahead, use that immersion blender)
1/8 c of milk
2/3 c of shredded cheese (we use sharp cheddar)
(amounts vary to taste)

Heat a frying pan to medium.
Add the milk first, and then spread the cheese out into a thin layer.
Melt the cheese. . .my Guy likes his cheese toasted a golden brown which makes it a thin sheet almost stuck to the pan. Never fear. This will work out.
Add the eggs and begin scrambling immediately, scraping up and chopping the browned cheese as you go.
Add salt and pepper to taste (remember, the cheese is salty. . .so is that bacon). 
Set aside and keep warm (love that Bella Cucina Buffet Server for weekend breakfasts)

The Mancake Topping (amounts vary)
2 T butter
1 1/4 c of pecans (or walnuts), whole
2 T of brown sugar
1 banana, sliced
1 cap of rum

In a sautee pan over medium heat, melt the butter.
Toast the pecans in the melted butter.
Sprinkle with brown sugar and stir to melt the sugar. 
Gently stir in the banana slices until warmed.
Remove the pan from the heat and immediately pour in 1 cap of rum (more if you are the brazen sort) and step back to admire the immediate flash of sizzle and smoke indicating that the alcohol is burning off. 

Keep warm until serving with Real Maple syrup.

Butter Rum Pecan and Banana Mancakes with Maple Syrup served on the deck before church.
Man-approved, but girls love'em, too.

Will Cook for Friends

 

i love the concept and the photographs  of this beautiful blog: will cook for friends. . . (and we insanely and blissfully made donuts at Round Rock today)

If you find yourself visiting, please do not overlook the food for thought page, filled with wonderful quotations.

Dining with one’s friends and beloved family is certainly one of life’s primal and most innocent delights, one that is both soul-satisfying and eternal.
~ Julia Child

We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink...
~Epicurus

Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.

~M. F. K. Fisher

and a few quotations from my own list. . .

I have eagerly desired to share this meal with you.

~Jesus, Luke 22:15

There are people in this world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.
~ Mahatma Gandhi

I Am the Bread of Life

~Jesus, John 6:35

Saturday Night Pizza and a Movie

Saturday night and i find me here with home surrounded by laughter, warmth and a kitchen filled with dearest hearts.

we are making pizza.

The Contessa provided the inspiration.

And oh, yes, that's peach cobbler with blueberries. . .

just the thing to share with husband when we curl up to watch The Best Most Exotic Marigold Hotel, a hotel for the elderly and beautiful.

i've been quoting this line after seeing it on pinterest. . .didn't know it came from the movie. . .lovely thought. . .

Everything will be all right in the end.
So if it is not all right,
then it is not yet the end.
~Sonny

i heart Saturday night pizza and a movie, don't you?

Chapter Ten: Tart Aux Fraises

"One or several of the following processes will be a part of almost any desset or cake recipe you encounter. Some can be accomplished by machine, others are better performed by hand. None is difficult, but all contribute to the success of your dish and must be done properly."

Lori made dessert tonight:
a buttery shell painted with a thin coating of currant jelly, sugar and kirsch, filled with a cooked custard cream, and arranged with plump fresh strawberries topped by more currant-liqueur glaze.

Light, refreshing, with layers of flavors surprising the tongue.

I will confess that i went back and simply dipped three leftover strawberries into the remains of the creme, my face blushing with warmth from the kirsch. There is nothing like it.

We are surrounded by imitations inspired by Julia's discovered art. 

Quite ironically, i came across an old '70's recipe for fruit pizza just the other day. Remember? Storebought sugar cookie dough rolled out in a pizza pan, spread with a cream cheese mixture, topped with slices of fruit and covered in orange marmalade?

Fruit pizza is not bad.
Tarte aux fraises is sublime. 

There's a philosophy in this: we are surrounded by imitations, but there is only one God, one Savior, one Jesus Christ.

Why do we settle for anything less?

Jesus is
‘the stone you builders rejected,    which has become the cornerstone.’

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”

~ Acts 4:12

Honey Bears Welcome

I woke up thinking about honey and honey bees today. 
Perhaps channeling my inner Pooh (bear, that is).

The search is on for honey-bear recipes.
If you stop by, won't you be so kind as to leave a clue? Thank you.

If you make it in time for tea,
I'll pour a cup for you!

Graduation Dinner at King's Arms Tavern

Re-visiting special memories of Commencement Weekend this week. . .

    Once ensconced at our comfortable accommodations on South Henry Street, we traveled everywhere by foot. Williamsburg in spring is a feast for the eyes, cobble stones underfoot, lamp posts, white clapboard buildings. . .and the gardens. Oh, the gardens. May blossomed gently behind picket fences, bobbing her many bonnets on tall foxglove stems. Heavy gates swung closed quietly behind us on ball and chain as we passed through the kitchen garden of the tavern, past rows of billowy cabbages and feathery dill, past the open door of the kitchen where an aproned lady in white bob cap was busy at preparations, and one last gate opened onto the street and the clip clop of carriage horses reverberating softly around the  conversation of the waiting diners. . .For four years in four seasons, this little village has welcomed me with its sleepy peace, wood fires, clanging blacksmith hammer, swinging placards over merchants' shops. I have watched the nimble fingers of artisans, weaving baskets, spinning thread, fashioning ribbons on broad brimmed hats. I have tasted the apothecary's rock candy, wandered by the creek in the Palace Gardens, become lost in the maze, and threaded through rooms tapestried, wainscoted and serene. Here I was a student at the College, took classes on the top floor of the Wren building overlooking the triangle of green and the village beyond, and worked in the kitchens of the Tavern. That was thirty years ago. This night I was a guest in the Tavern, and our daughter was graduating. Time was coming full circle, and while we laughed and ate and made merry, my heart listened for the Voice of One Who had given me safe passage. In those days of youth and mischief, He knew this moment.  And marvelled me at the love I had known.

Arriving on the street from the garden, Lori with her Granddaddy. That handsome guy peaking over the gate was with me thirty years ago, Lori's daddy.

Braveheart chooses the Colonial Game Pye: venison, duck and rabbit. "The whole Disney cast - Bambi, Donald, and Thumper- in one pie," we teased her.

A copy of the Evening Bill of Fare may be found here.

Mrs. Vobe's Tavern opened in 1772, and became one of the town's most genteel establishments.

Candlelight dinners are the norm in the village.

Nana dons her yard square delighted with the custom, "A lady tucking her yard square into the front of her bodice indicated that she was willing for the gentleman to pay for her meal."

A gentleman tied a yard square around his neck to pay a compliment to the ladies.

Sally Lunn bread. . .simple taste, light texture.

The food of the 18th century did not contain any artificial colors, preservatives, chemicals or pesticides, and was local, fresh and unprocessed.

On occasion, Mr. Jefferson introduced wines and foods from his travels abroad. I particularly favored the  Parmesan he brought back from Italy in the creamed spinach.

Sweet tea was not yet a Southern icon.
Very difficult to sweeten the tea with raw sugar. . .but delightful nevertheless.

Colonial Game Pye.
Our waiter demonstrated how to detach and lift the top of the pie and deposit it on a platter, and then scoop the stew over it. Lori mastered the skill.

 Gentlemen guests often brought forth musical instruments after a meal. We sang songs peopled with sailors and lost ladies.

"We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below,
Until we sight Lizard off the coast of Old England
Then straight up the channel to Portsmouth we'll go!"



Gifts between roommates. . .four years. . .heart friends from the moment they met.
"We have reached the open sea. . ."
a quote from a favorite book.

And a sweet end to the meal. . .


Thomas Jefferson’s Brandy-spiked Bread Pudding
With a warm Vanilla Bean Sauce.
(Hard to believe this was half a portion!)

Syllabub.
Wine-laced Cream whipped to a Froth,
seasoned with Lemon Zest,
and garnished with seasonal Berries
(Someone forgot to tell Little Lady Curls about the wine and sherry at the bottom.)
Meringue Shell
Baked Egg Whites
served with Vanilla Ice Cream
and fresh Strawberries
(click here for the recipe)

Sweetly, the evening ended at the Tavern,
and arm in arm we strolled back up the center of Duke of Gloucester, the setting sun gilding shop windows and evening blooming blue in the east.
Thank you, dear hearts, for sharing this with me.

Tomorrow: the Walk Across Campus

Gratitude for the Seemingly Insignificant

It is a make-a-big-pot-of-soup kind of day.

Because a bowl of Soup is the Threshold back to the Normal and Ordinary and Simple, at the end of an illness or a long, ragged bent of just not being yourself.

This Monday morning, I awoke to fire bombs in the collapsing streets of the Capitol still shrieking in my ears, a ringing aftermath in tympanic memory. Between the final pages of The Hunger Games trilogy. . .and the viewing of the girl with the dragon tattoo (eyes latticed by fingers and fast forward employed judiciously). . .it feels as if some hand has plunged deep inside me and turned me inside out. I make no apologies. Yes, I am a Christian, and yes, I am sure that I was supposed to watch that movie. . .because sometimes I am too distant from just how lost the world is without Christ. . .and that evil is - yes - more evil than I can imagine. . .and I found my heart breaking for the victim and raging at a perpetrator who is so lost he is no longer human. . .and the big picture helps me to understand my little picture.

Like I said, just maybe this will speak to someone who has found herself in a similar place.

Sometimes I stop praying because I am hurting but I don't think I should hurt because really. . .I am so blessed. Thus tongue-tied, I forget to take into account the affect of real life hunger games. Don't let the enemy do that to you, Best Heart.

God will use even a movie  . . .a book. . .to get to you if He has to.

For me, a cathartic purging has cleansed the wound. .

 .and it is as good a day as any to remember what I have to be thankful for. . .
and make a bowl of soup.

Father leaves on the corner of a little table in my mind The Keeping of Home to read. . .a little parachute. . .a tin of balm. . .meant just for me. . .

And I give one thousand thanks...

#0652 - sunshine, yellow walls, like egg yokes in morning light and melting butter by afternoon

#0653 - satisfaction of swiping  a cloth soaked in lemon cleaner through thick grey dust and leaving a wake of shining wood

#0654 - pollen, lime green and burgeoning with life and I sneeze spring into summer, as if somehow my nasal congestion is part of what it takes for flowers to bloom.

#0655 - most powerful movie moment of my life, when District 11 returns Katniss of District 12's salute. . . goose bumps head to toe. . .and heart beats what tongue cannot express. . .we need each other, people. . .

#0656 - five new t-shirts for the gym. . .yellow, pink, lavender, blue and gray

#0657 - when you, smiling one, clean the sink until it sparkles because you have seen and you know what others take for granted. . .

#0658 - a bowl of pineapple cut into chunks sitting on the refrigerator shelf for me because you do not know how to say you are sorry for burning the quiche I made for you. . .(I am so sorry I yelled; will you have some pineapple, too?)

#0659 - the dozen ways each day, you, brown eyes and freckles, tell me that you love me. . .sometimes in words, sometimes a small gesture of thoughtfulness. . .like breakfast on a tray or a glass of water at my elbow.

#0660 - and you, little mischief, supposedly listening to my explosion of self-pity with compassion, and I catch you trying not to laugh. "You're better than a stand-up comedienne," you defend yourself, and tears on my face, I start to laugh, too. I was funny, wasn't I? And then your sweet, little voice, "I just want to fix it for you, mommy."

#0661 - and one more. . .soup. That's it. Just soup. Soul-satisfying, warm, and savory. Soup. Threshold back to Normal.

All Grace. All from Him.

Counting with the Community at. . .