Daisy

Well, we got a dog. 

Daisy, 6 years old, miniature schnauzer 

It was a surprising turn of events for us, instigated by an unpleasant surprising turn of events. Daisy was my aunt Jetta's dog. After Jetta was diagnosed with cancer and we realized that Daisy would outlive her, my family and I began to wonder what would happen. Sergio and I discussed the possibility of taking her - I was delighted to discover that he liked the idea! As long as I've known him, he's always said, "I like dogs, I just don't want to live with them." But with Daisy it was different. He developed a soft spot for her and was totally on board with the idea of adopting her. After Jetta died and we proposed this plan, everyone agreed that this was the right idea and that it's what Jetta would have wanted.

My biggest concern was taking Daisy away from Mema, who had been Daisy's companion, or maybe it was the other way around. Mema told us everything we needed to know to care for her, including Daisy's special "Say your prayers!" trick. I will always think of Jetta's voice when we do that trick with Daisy. 

The most amazing thing is how much Daisy loves Sergio AND how much he loves her. He is her favorite. When he invites her to his lap she bounds onto him eagerly without giving it a second thought. When I invite her to sit in my lap, she looks at me as if to say, "hmmm. I'm still considering other options. I will let you know." When Sergio leaves for the grocery store, she barks and yelps for him and waits on high alert for his return. When I step outside, she says "meh..." and goes to curl up with Sergio.

All of which is fine with me. I don't mind playing second fiddle. I'm just happy to have a dog again.

Second Fiddle

We brought Daisy here by car right after fourth of July. A long car trip, but she handled it well (thanks to Sergio). Just before driving away from OKC, Sergio reminded us all that when he proposed to me, my dad said, "will you take the dog, too?" That was a long time ago and the dog in question wasn't the same dog. But  just before we carted Daisy off, Sergio was quick to point out that, even if it took him 10.5 years, yes, he is taking the dog. 

Urban Grown Farms and Gardens Tour - 2013

Switzer Neighborhood Farm

This year marks the 5th biennial urban farms and gardens tour, hosted by Cultivate KC, and the urban growth (pun intended) this city has seen is nothing short of amazing. In 2005 when the tour began, there were 6 farms on the tour and 300 people who attended the whole tour. Every tour since has seen an exponential increase in both attendees and farm sites on the tour. This event now boasts 60 sites and has spanned to cover two days; the small number 300 is more likely to describe the number of attendees in one day at one farm. By now the tour has reached the status of The Largest Urban Farm Tour in the nation. 

All of which means, this city has a lot of food growing in a lot of unexpected and important places. 

chard on the westside

Urban farming - popular enough now to merit its own magazine - is more than just the trendy thing to do. This movement goes beyond the offbeat juxtapositions: the dilapidated buildings next to lush raised beds of kale, rusted art and radishes, municipal chickens and downtown ducks. This is about growing food in precisely the spots where people are everyday. This is about revitalizing wasted land and making it livable, beautiful, and productive. This is about knowing where your food comes from and seeing it for yourself, whether you're a little kid, a grown woman, an old man. For some of these sites, this is about serving the underserved, about communities pulling together to take care of themselves, and about volunteers working to feed others. Whether a site is an oasis in a food desert or growing the freshest food right outside the restaurant kitchen, this tour is about "cultivating change." 

When I volunteered four years ago, I hurried all over town to help and see as much as I could in one day, but I could only make it to 5 farm sites. And that was before I had kids. So this year I was pretty proud when - over the course of 2 days, while Sergio was unavailable, with both girls in tow, stopping for potty breaks and diaper changes and breastfeeding - I made it to 5 farms again! Of course, that leaves 55 farms I wanted to see but couldn't. I'm not complaining, though. Too many urban farms and gardens is a great problem to have.

The Five Sites I Saw on My Tour

Hoop Dog Studio

The first stop on my tour was Hoop Dog Studio on Troost. Almost every morning we take Troost to take Julia to school, so I had noticed this place with its turquoise doors, its ransom-note like "Obama" made of old neon sign letters, its particular tall bird on the side of the building. But I never would have imagined that inside is an intricate maze of hydroponics, livestock, vegetables, flowers, and discarded materials turned into art. While you may need to steer your toddler clear of the rusted nails emerging from the rail road ties or the shards of (intentional) broken pottery, you will come away in awe of the majestic mess of growth and life - vegetables, fish and flowers - coming out of urban castoffs - rebar, upturned muffin tins, oxytetracyclinehydrochloride barrels. Maybe that "skelebird" on the side of the building is supposed to be a phoenix. 

Hoop Dog Studio on Troost 

Julia and Skelebird

Crown Garden

In the summer of 2010, I was an insignificant member of a small team of people helping to make plans to start an urban garden - to be maintained by volunteers at Hallmark - at the Ronald McDonald house right across the street. That summer the idea was just a seed. I went off to have a couple of babies over the next two years and then next thing I know - voila! The garden is going so strong that they are on the Urban Grown tour. There are some incredible master gardeners and volunteers at Hallmark who have contributed their time to this farm's success. And all the produce grown (organically, by the way) in the Crown Garden goes to the families and patients staying at the Ronald McDonald house. Which seems to me like such a really nice thing to do for people you don't even know.

Hallmark's Crown Garden

Julia's and my favorite. 

Beanstalk Children's Garden (at KCCG)

The Beanstalk Garden has a little bit of everything - several varieties of fruits, lots of vegetables, flowers, herbs and a fountain. I'm not sure if the water feature is meant to be toddler entertainment, but it sure was for us after a long hot day of touring. Jasper and Julia went wild with the water while we sat under the grapevines and fed the babies and imagined what we might grow in our own gardens even though we are not the skilled master gardeners who run these places - nevermind that. Seeing it all blossoming and blooming and making fruit makes you think - surely I could do this, too! And the truth is, with the help of KC Community Gardens, you probably could!

Beanstalk Children's Garden - and fountain

Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Herb'n Gardener
I wanted to stop in at Lew Edmister's place because Julia and I see Lew every Friday night at Badseed (for that same reason, I wanted to go to Urbavore, too, we just couldn't get there). I thought it'd be fun to see what he's growing so maybe Julia can put two and two together when she sees him at market. Lew also makes bread and - for that matter - made his own bread oven! "Fire!" said Julia, when she saw Lew checking the flames inside. While Lew got his dough ready for a demo, Julia and I ate mustard greens from the field and tried to keep Clara from eating the mulch. Lew brought us some nasturtiums to eat; Julia would have none of it, though she liked eating the little yellow mustard green flowers.

Clara at Herb'n Gardener 

Julia and the mustard greens

Switzer Neighborhood Farm
From Lew's I thought I'd head to the Westside Local to see some vertical gardening by Anti-Hero Landscaping, but I got sidetracked on the way when I passed what looks like a giant hole in the ground full of an urban farm. Chickens, ducks, geese, bees and butterflies; vegetables, flowers, and herbs. This place was literally a dumping ground for a long time before, 3 years ago, some folks in the Westside Community Action Network came along to clean it up. It's amazing and lush and complex and gritty and the kale in that raised bed was the heartiest I've seen. (And I have seen a lot of kale.) Julia loved the livestock and watched with rapt attention as the chickens responded to our "cock-a-doodle-doos!" and "kiki-ri-kees!" This neighborhood has really embraced this bit of blight and brought it back to life.

Switzer Neighborhood Farm
in the shadow of the abandoned Switzer school

Julia and the chickens

Father's Day

Some pictures in honor of the holiday:

Me and my dad (three pictures in one, actually). He is a wonderful father and I love him.

c. 1991, c. 2003, and 2012

Me, Sergio, and the girls who made him a dad. He is a wonderful father and I love him, too.

Impromptu Family Portrait

Oh, and here's an extra picture of the girls which is representative of the regular old rascally behavior we have come to know and love: Julia being wild and Clara being entertained.

Shenanigans!

Strawberry Bread Pudding

berries

If you're anything like me, you may find yourself with a good chunk of leftover Italian bread and an overage of fresh, local, organic strawberries (because you can never buy just one quart since one quart is what you eat on the way home from the market and you'll need a lot more than that once you get home). And in this fortuitous moment, you may think to yourself, "Is there such a thing as strawberry bread pudding?"

You may do a Google search and find out that, Yes, there IS such a thing! And you may sort through a lot of recipes before finding THIS ONE and emailing to your husband one morning suggesting it for dessert that night. And you may even get home at the end of the day and offer to make that Strawberry Bread Pudding only to discover that he has already done it! 

And then you may find out that not only is there such a thing as Strawberry Bread Pudding, but it is delightful. 

The next morning your husband may have the brilliant idea to slice the leftover bread pudding and fry it a little like a french toast or something. And then you may justify eating Strawberry Bread Pudding for both dessert AND breakfast. And you may be delighted yet again. 

If you're anything like me, that is.

Strawberry Bread Pudding
from the kitchen of One Perfect Bite, inspired by the Daily Loaf 
click here for full details and a recipe for caramel sauce
Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup white granulated sugar
1/4 cup golden brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
12 ounces crusty stale bread, torn or cut in bite-size pieces
2 cups fresh or frozen (thawed) strawberries, sliced

Directions:
1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease an 8 x 8 x-2-inch pan. Set aside.
2) Combine eggs, milk, sugar (white and brown, vanilla extract, spices and salt in a small bowl. Whisk until blended.
3) Place bread pieces into a large bowl. Pour milk mixture over bread and toss to combine. Let sit for 15 minutes to allow milk to be absorbed into bread.
4) Fold in strawberries and pour mixture into baking dish.
5) Bake for 30 to 40 minutes, or until raised and puffy. Insert a toothpick into center and if it comes out fairly clean, it’s done. Let cool for a few minutes before serving. Yield: 8 to 10 servings.


The French Toast Treatment for Breakfast

Ingredients:
leftover Strawberry Bread Pudding
butter

Directions:
Slice the pudding into 1-inch or 1 1/2-inch slices.
Heat butter in pan.
Fry the pudding slices (that's a weird phrase) until golden.
Ignore the fact that you just made something unhealthy even unhealthier.
Enjoy!

A Tornado, a Birthday, and a Funeral

My Aunt Jetta

We went to OKC recently to attend my aunt's funeral; the weekend before we'd gone to celebrate my grandmother's birthday (early) and to see my aunt Jetta who was very sick. She had been diagnosed with late stage cancer just after Easter. We had no idea how rapidly she'd decline. She only had one cycle of chemo that lasted just three weeks. She died before her hair even had a chance to fall out. 

I had no idea that Memorial Day weekend I was saying goodbye for the last time. That weekend she said no more than five words to me, which in and of itself was a feat. She was virtually non-communicative towards the end. That weekend when I reached out to her she responded, whispering "Thank You," "Love you," and "Pretty," (that last one was her acknowledgement of the bouquet of flowers I brought her from Mema's garden.) I am grateful for the visit I had made earlier in May when she was doing a little bit better and when I brought her a birthday gift and a card, which I know she treasured; she wouldn't even let my mom throw away the envelope that her birthday card came in. She passed away peacefully on Wednesday morning, May 29.

I struggled with how to tell Julia that Jetta passed away. She knew something was up ("Jetta doesn't feel good.") and had already asked some poignant questions (“Who hurt Jetta?”). But she is too young to understand death. When we went back for the funeral, I worried that Julia would inquire after Jetta or want to know why we were all sad. She IS in the “Why?” phase, after all. We used our best euphemisms and our simplest language and I think in some fundamental way, she understood just enough. The truth is that her child-like view of it all brought some levity that I found to be refreshing in the most stifling parts of the mourning process: “She’s pink!” (Julia said, at the funeral home where there was a pink light shining on the body) and “Jetta has a new bed!” (after the viewing) and “Is Jetta hiding?” (at the graveside service).

In many ways I was helping myself understand death as much as I was helping Julia. This was the first death in the inner circle of my mom’s family since the year I was born. I’ve never had to face it so forthrightly. I questioned what it all meant each step of the way.

The night of the viewing of the body, there was a big storm brewing. Being tried and true Oklahomans, we all knew something big was coming. You could just feel it in the air. (Also, we were watching the news and the meteorologists said something big was coming.) We proceeded with the evening’s plan nonetheless; my mom took Mema to the funeral home and many other folks arrived. Sergio and I came with the girls and were able to have our moment to say “Goodbye” and “We love you, Jetta.” Before long the storm had progressed and we realized we needed to take cover. We hustled out of the funeral home and piled into our caravan of cars as the newscasters on the radios advised us all to take shelter. We were headed across the street to go into the basement of the church. It felt so weird to leave Jetta behind.

The viewing of the body is peculiar. We know in our heads what has happened, that our loved one has died, but our hearts want to believe that maybe it’s not true. Our hearts want to believe the way Julia probably believed - that Jetta was just asleep. It certainly looked that way. She looked beautiful (no small feat after her illness) -- and pink, even! -- as though she were just resting for a moment. But let me tell you - nothing drives home the reality of your loved one’s condition like having to leave her behind in the funeral home while the rest of the family takes cover from a tornado.

Oh and did I mention that this was my grandmother’s 92nd birthday? What a strange way to spend your birthday. That night, Mema powered through the visitation and the tornado, broken heart and all. We all even managed to share some cake together and reflect on those 92 years. But it was far from a happy birthday. We found out later that the tornado that came through that night was the widest tornado ever recorded in US history - about 2.5 miles. The wide-reaching path of destruction was an apt metaphor for the ripple effects of Jetta's death - of anyone's death, I am sure. It has both a broad (for many) and a personal (for each of us) impact. However, no one felt Jetta's death quite the way Mema did. As she told me later on, tearfully, at the graveside service, "It just cuts so deep."

The next morning the sky was clear and beautiful. The funeral for Jetta was perfect; she would have loved it, I am sure. Family came to town and my parents' house was full of warmth and full of flowers and full of food. There was an amazing outpouring of support from my parents' friends and co-workers, my aunt's friends and co-workers, my friends - more generous that you could imagine. If quantities of food delivered to the bereaved are any indication of how well someone was liked, then my aunt was extremely well loved. The remainder of the weekend was part hustle and bustle of family gathering and part quiet reflection. And lots and lots of emotion.

Jetta was a giver of great gifts, a baker of amazing birthday cakes, and a taker of great photos. She was patriotic - didn't care who you voted for in any election just so long as you voted. And she'd give you The Raised Eyebrow of Consternation if you didn't. She was a loyal Hallmark Gold Crown shopper and invested a lot of time in finding the right gift. She was a bit of a wallflower. She was full of tact. She never said an unkind word. She loved iced tea. 

It is so hard to believe she’s gone. We are all better off for having had her in our life. We miss her so much.

“I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage, with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post which any human power can give.” - Thomas Jefferson

(a quotation framed and hung on the wall at Jetta's house)

Mother's Day and Quiche

What a wonderful day on Sunday (as if I deserved anything extra - on top of the regular, run-of-the-mill happiness that I am so fortunate to enjoy). Sergio and the girls delivered me some lovely cards and a gift certificate for a massage (Solaris is the best!) and let me pick our dinner spot (Spin! because it's next to Glacé).

a happy mother on Mother's Day

We went to the lawn at the Nelson-Atkins to see a puppet show by the Stone Lion Puppet Theater troupe. Great stuff, truly. You must make an effort to see them if you haven't already. Puppets of incredible proportion and messages of great import! I loved the crane; Julia loved the turtle; Sergio loved the snake; according to Julia, Clara loved the snail. (We'll take Julia's word for it.)

Later that night while she was playing outside, Julia brought me one of the plastic flowers from her wheelbarrow set and said, "Happy Mother's Day!" It melted my heart. Then she brought the other plastic flower inside, gave it to her daddy and said, "Happy Mother's Day, Daddy!" And since bucking gender normativity is a favorite past time of mine, well, that melted my heart again.

Oh, and I forgot the most important meal of the day - Sergio made quiche for breakfast! Two years ago on my first Mother's Day, Sergio insisted on serving me breakfast in bed. I carelessly told him that I did not like eating in bed and he was crestfallen. He replied, "if I don't bring you your breakfast in bed then today won't be any different than all the other days when I make you breakfast." He was so right. He is always in charge of the morning meal. I had forgotten to be grateful for that. It was a good reminder.

Anyway, this year he wanted to do breakfast in bed again but let's be honest - breakfast in bed when there's a bouncy toddler and a grabby infant nearby is just a big load of dirty laundry waiting to happen. So we ate in our kitchen at our breakfast nook, watched for birds in our new bird bath, and enjoyed our quiche. Or as we call it ... "gheesh." Sergio's been getting into ghee lately - it is lovely and makes a stellar quiche. Here's his crust recipe.

Ghee Whole Wheat Pie Crust 
(for a 2 crust 8” pie)

  

½ tsp salt

2 2/3 c. flour (1 1/3 c. white flour & 1 1/3 c. whole wheat pastry flour works nicely)

2/3 c. melted ghee (clarified butter)

4 TBSP cold water

Mix dry ingredients. Blend in ghee with a fork or pastry blender. Slowly add water, blending. Roll out.

Julia wanted to take her "umbeya" on our walk.
(Note the outline of the shadow of her hair.)

The bush to the side of the garage began to bloom.
Turns out it's spirea! Clara approves.

edible Kansas City

This little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way to the newsstands.

There's a new magazine in town - it's hot off the presses and new to KC - it's all about fabulous, local food ... it's edible KANSAS CITY and it's lovely.

As part of the nation-wide Edible Communities organization, eKC has the benefit of an established and robust publishing company while also being edited and published by local Kansas Citians, so it truly reflects our local community. And to top it off, Edible Communities won the 2011 James Beard Award for Publication of the Year. Great accolades to get this unique magazine off the ground here in KC.

Oh, and did I mention that I got to write for it!? Well, I did. It was a delight and will continue to be a delight, I'm sure, to be able to explore my ever growing thoughts on food (especially local and organic) and to be a contributing member of the eKC group.

If you haven't had the chance to pick one of these up, do so soon and enjoy the first serving of what is sure to be a great staple in our food community in KC. (Click here for the full list of where you can find eKC.) And it's free - er, uh - "priceless."

Bok Choy and Garlic Soup

bok choy blossoms

I am really pleased with the simplicity of this soup. It is humble and straightforward, but also rewarding in both flavor and nutritional value. The ginger and garlic - and of course the bok choy - provide a great boost, especially to one's immune system during the sickly parts of winter, which is when I found this recipe.

But now that my CSA's extended season has begun, the farmers markets are opening, and the bok choy is readily available again, I'm finding that this soup also goes well with spring.

You can amend this recipe in a lot of different ways - another reason it makes a great CSA recipe - so you can just use what you have on hand.

Baby Bok Choy and Garlic Soup
from 30 Bucks a Week
Ingredients:
7 c veggie broth
4-5 cloves garlic, crushed
1 piece of ginger, peeled
handful of brown rice (between 1/4-1/2 cup; PS this is a great recipe to use up leftover rice)
1 kohlrabi or turnip, peeled and chopped
1 lb bok choy, trimmed and chopped
salt to tast
sriracha or other hot sauce, to taste
1-2 eggs

Instructions:
Boil the vegetable stock and add the crushed garlic and ginger in a big pot. Let that simmer over low heat for about 5 minutes.
Add the rice and kohlrabi (or turnip); cover. Simmer for 20 minutes (unless rice was previously cooked.)
Add more broth if you need it and add the bok choy. Taste and season with salt and sriracha.
Cover and let the bok choy cook down - should only be 5 minutes or so.
Ladle a small portion of the broth out into a bowl and add the egg(s). Stir vigorously with a fork and then pour it all back into the pot. Give the soup a good stir and serve.

Easter 2013

I had the chickens at Urbavore Farm pre-dye my Easter eggs. They did a lovely job. 

Julia - not yet the purist that I am - didn't mind hunting little plastic eggs instead of real ones. 

Warm day + hot sun + long wait = melted chocolate. Still tastes good, though.

Easter cheesey faces! 

The Girls

Julia 2.5 yrs, Clara 7 mos

If I tried to record something about the girls everyday ... wait, actually I do record something about them everyday, in one of those little line-a-day journals. And yet I still can't find enough words to capture how quickly they grow, how remarkable they both are, how delightful they make our lives. They are distinct and unique in every way. Blue eyes/brown eyes, curly hair/straight hair, light skin/dark skin. Oh, but they both have Maybelline eyelashes ("maybe she's born with it?"). I am curious to see how their personalities differ (or not) as they grow up. Julia's personality is well on its way...

Julia and her ukulele

Julia got a ukulele for Christmas and plays it pretty often. Well, "plays" it. She also "tunes" it - or "fixes" it, as she calls it. (Then her dad has to tune it back later when he wants to play it.) Her favorite song to sing is "Red Red Robin" - she knows a lot of the lyrics. Her favorite music to listen to in the car is Enya; we hear less of that from the ukulele. In other news: she always likes to know where we are going first, what we are doing, and - inevitably - why. Yes we have entered the why stage and as endless as it is, I love it. She also likes to know everyone's names; people in books, people we pass on the street, the mail carrier, etc. Sometimes we ask perfect strangers their names; other times we just make stuff up!

Clara and her toes

Clara is nothing but sugar. A generally happy baby all around. She cries when she's hungry but is in great spirits most of the rest of the time. She is enamored with Julia, she puts everything in her mouth, and she babbles and cooes with the best of them. I swear she said "mama" the other day. Okay, not really. But she might as well have. I know she was thinking it. 

These babies are truly the best and I can't seem to get enough of either of them. Sergio and I don't take any of it for granted, not for one second. 

Happy Holidays

Merry Christmas

Christmas was absolutely the best. House full of family, from a few people to a lot. Hustle and bustle and dinner and lunch and toys and puzzles and a giant tub of popcorn and several bags of peppermint bark and toffee.

puzzles for everyone

In many ways, this felt like Julia's first Christmas because it was the first Christmas when she was aware and could talk about it. Her struggle with Santa (she never did fully warm up to him), her "Mitmas" songs, her fascination with the baby Jesus, her presents.

Primos on Christmas morning

Clara and Abuelo

We finally had snow! It was short lived but lovely. 

playing in the "no" (Julia's pronunciation of snow)

The New Year - best part of my New Year's Eve was watching Julia dance to a Wii video game. She was timid, but so serious about following the moves as instructed on the screen. Best part of my New Year's Day - marking our 10th (!) wedding anniversary.

Deck the Halls

After trimming the tree (literally cutting off branches),
we used the remnants in the entry way.

Christmas has arrived at our house, at last. We finally put up our tree about a week ago. Sergio (formerly known as Scroogio) seemed to want to wait until December was in full swing, rather than deck the halls the day after Thanksgiving, which I would have been happy to do. It's just as well bceause we got a real tree and I don't want the thing dying on us before the real Christmas has come and gone. 

Vintage shop find No. 1 - wooden angel musicians 

Julia seemed to think that the real Christmas had already come and gone after we got the tree. We walked over to the church about 6 blocks from our house to buy a tree from their youth group. We picked one out and loaded it into our grocery cart and pushed it the 6+ blocks back to our house. It only tipped over once! We were a funny site, I'm sure. Julia walked because she refused to ride in her stroller on the return trip (typical) so I wore Clara and pushed an empty stroller and Sergio pushed the tree in the grocery cart and we both did our best to corral Julia on the way home. 

Vintage shop find No 2 - Santa plate
(desperately in need of some Christopher Elbow Peppermint Bark) 

Anyway, when we got home, she watched me put the lights on and I gave her some soft ornaments to arrange on lower branches. That was as far as we got before it was her bedtime. The next morning I couldn't wait to show her our completed, decorated tree. So I woke her up and said, "do you want to come downstairs and see our Christmas tree?" And she replied with something along the lines of "we did that yesterday," as in, "Christmas is over, Mommy. We already got our Christmas tree." Such a pure and simple understanding of Christmas. "Mitmas," she calls it. I am enjoying these years before the wanting begins. 

new home, new baby...
lots to commemorate this year with special Hallmark ornaments

I used to think that my Christmas tree ornaments could be grouped into two categories: 'ornaments from my childhood' or 'things most people would throw away' (examples: Chimay corks and even a Gatorade cap!) It was not until this year, while decorating with a toddler, that I realized that they also all fall into two other categories - either "looks like a toy" or "fragile and breakable" - or worse yet, the ones that fall into BOTH those categories. So I had to be judicious and hang the breakable ones up top and the softer ones down below. I broke the rule I learned long ago about hanging larger ornaments at the bottom and smaller ones up top, medium ones in the middle, etc. But I'm pretty sure we'll survive that broken rule. As will my ornaments.

Julia's shoe (it's mate was lost at the airport a long time ago)
I've been saving this for an ornament for a while. 

Julia is in deep conflict about Dear Old Santa. As she told me one morning before we went to meet him, she does "not yike Nanta." We met him at the neighborhood party and she wouldn't dare look upon him; we took her to the Santa at family night at Hallmark and she refused him in every way. Mind you, she doesn't cry and wail and fuss. She just averts her gaze and clings to my neck for dear life. I now have two great pictures of me, Santa, and the back of Julia's head.  I have heard her talking to the santas on the tree: "Oh, Nanta. I yon't yike you. I yike you. Sometimes I yon't yike you. Sometimes I do yike you." Apparently she's really torn up about this. I am actually relieved that my child doesn't willingly sit in the laps of strangers. Seems healthy to me. We'll see how her feelings change as the season progresses. She is at least having fun spotting Santa, Snowmen (plastic decorative ones since we haven't had any snow yet) all around town. So glad that "Mitmas" is here! 

Bought this whimsical Santa at the thrift store ($3!).
I realize now it reminds me of a pear. 

Root Veg: Two Favorite Recipes

One new recipe for beets and one tried and true standard for sweet potatoes...

Hope Julia appreciated my plating techniques.

I have never made borscht before, so I don't know how this compares, but I can tell you it was delicious. I served it as the starter for a meal of acorn squash stuffed with rice, mushrooms, and turmeric with a side of sautéed kale and white beans with a side salad featuring turnips, carrots, radishes - such a colorful meal. Talk about eating the rainbow. Oh, and Julia are two servings of soup! And spilled a bunch of it on her chin and shirt. She looked like a vampire with a belly wound. 

Red Soup

from Nigella Lawson's Feast

serves 4-6

(I love Nigella's writing so I'm including her preface to this recipe.) 

     This soup is so damn Christmassy it's ridiculous. Given the holidays, I wanted as much redness under my belt as possible (a rather childish approach, but there it is) and since, customarily, in borscht the sweetness of the beets is countered by some cooking apple, it made perfect, festive sense to use sharp, seasonal cranberries instead. The juice and zest of the orange, along with the cloves, make it even more of an evocatively Christmas feast. You can eat it with a supper of cold turkey and salad, or as an altogether sprightlier alternative on its own. It's the sort of soup you might choose for a solitary dinner in front of the tv to make yourself happy and to feel virtuously rewarded. 

     Normally, beets take hours to cook, which is why I suggest you just bung them in the processor first. Actually, I loved the soup as it was when I tasted it in the pan, unpuréed, but truly this works best as a deep-toned, deep-flavored, velvety emulsion. 

3 raw beets (1 1/4 lbs) 

1 large red onion

2 tablespoons olive oil (not extra virgin)

1 1/2 cups cranberries, fresh or frozen

juice and zest of 1 orange

pinch of ground cloves

4 cups vegetable stock

3/4 cup sour cream, optional, for serving

(Emily's addition: pomegranate for garnish!) 

     Peel the beets and onions (wearing rubber gloves unless you want a touch of the Lady Macbeths) and chop them roughly. Put the chunks in a food processor and blitz till you've got a ruby-glowing pile of shreds; no need to be too fanatical, you just don't want large pieces evident. Spoon the oil into a large wide-based pan and tip in the onion and beets, and cook them over a gentle heat for 10 minutes or so. When they have begun to sweat down and soften, add the cranberries (no need to thaw frozen ones), the orange zest and juice and the ground cloves. Stir everything around for a couple of minutes and then pour in the stock. Bring to the boil, then cover the pan and simmer the soup for about 45 minutes to 1 hour. It should then be cooked enough to purée or liquidize to divine smoothness, though you may want to do this in a few batches to spare your kitchen walls. (or use an immersion blender!) 

     Taste to see if you want salt or pepper, then pour into a warmed soup tureen and serve. If the idea appeals pour over a swirl of sour cream into each person's bowl as you hand it out. 

     option: Cook this in advance and leave it in its unpuréed state, whizz it cold then heat it up in a saucepan when ready to eat.

featuring orange and white flesh sweet potatoes

This is from Smitten Kitchen (whose cookbook is out - I've asked Santa for it for Christmas!). Her post is here. I make this recipe all the time and I have for a couple of years now. It never gets old. And even one devoted sweet-potato-hater can manage to eat a few of these spiced wedges. I've been using a mix of orange and white fleshed (O'Henry variety) sweet potatoes for a nice visual variation. I suppose you could also get away with throwing a regular potato or a turnip in there! (We found potatoes and turnips to be a nice combo in our new "mashed poturnips" recipe at Thanksgiving.) My farmers suggested mixing up the spices a little - sage, cumin, ground pepper, cloves. Although I am hell bent on sticking to this exactly as SK has written it. So much so that when I set out to make these this year for the first time and discovered that I was out of coriander (and didn't have time to run to the store), I sat down and painstakingly picked out every last coriander seed from my pickling spice mix. And I did this while I was nursing Clara. Who wiggles a lot. It was a challenge! But worth it. Just one whiff of these and you'll see.

Roasted Spiced Sweet Potato
from Smitten Kitchen

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes (the latter will make them quitespicy, so using according to your preferences)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 pounds medium sweet potatoes
3 tablespoons vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 425°F. Coarsely grind coriander, fennel, oregano, and red pepper flakes in an electric coffee/spice grinder or with a mortar and pestle. Stir together spices and salt.

Cut potatoes lengthwise into 1-inch wedges. Toss wedges with oil and spices in a large roasting pan and roast in middle of oven 20 minutes. Turn wedges over with a spatula and roast until tender and slightly golden, 15 to 20 minutes more.