Living-Deliberately.com

says she:

“Hey Mom…look at my daydream dog Jack. Can you see him?” (said after I did a head count in the car and noticed her “petting” the air)
says she:

“I really don’t think we should have oatmeal anymore Mom. You see, it gives heart problems. HeartBURN. It really isn’t as good for you as they say.” (said after she saw me make a crumb topping for an apple pie with oatmeal)

As you can see, I LOVE coffee. Not alot of it, but what I drink I want to be the very best I can have. A few years ago the Love of My Life surprised me with a pricey grinder/maker in one. It was so easy! We programmed it before bed, filled it with fragrant beans, and right on time we were awakened with deafening noise of coffee being ground as freshly as possible! Unfortunately we learned that once again, appliances that specialize in more that one thing rarely do either of them very well.

So we simpified and in doing so found a thing of true beauty. The French Press is a remarkably easy little contraption to use. We have a much loved tea kettle that was a wedding gift that we heat our water in and a cheap little Mr. Coffee grinder that has more than exceeded expectations. The brew is fantastic and when one uses good water and wonderful coffee, well….no one best interrupt the drinker. It’s as close to bliss as I think a cup of coffee can really get. I can’t imagine the best espresso machine on the market coming close to the pure beauty that a French Press can produce.

Well, there has been one teensy problem. Ours only serves two. One of our favorite shows is a BBC show called As Time Goes By with Judi Dench. Funny little show about two older people who fell in love late in life. As true brits they sit down to tea often and coffee too with, you guessed it! A French Press! And it’s the Bodum, like we have, and it’s FAT, revealing that yes, they make

The Bodum French Press that serves more than just two!
We are so excited about this little thing that will make a big difference when we have people over, which is the point after all. Because the only thing better than an awesome cup of coffee is sharing a cup with a friend.

Mean Girls Grow Up

Click on the link and not the photo if you want to read along with me. I’m going to review it next week. On my mind lately….bullies on the playground and what it looks like in the adult world.

from snapshirt.com. They take your blog and make a “cloud” based on words that show up alot. At first I thought mine had too few interestest words, and then I realized what a collage of life it is…just like the point of my blog thankyouverymuch! The interesting and the simple, all together.

That’s what caffine is you know. Addictive stuff. “It makes you crave it fortnightly” (as they say in So I Married an Axe Murderer about….Fried Chicken. But that was MSG…a whole ‘nother post).

And I crave coffee a whole heck of a lot more than fortnightly!

1 fortnight= 14 days. Hah!

For all my love of the stuff, I’ve resorted to trying to find a cheaper brand that we still enjoy. We only have one cup a day and until now have wanted that one cup to be the very highest quality we could afford. Thing was, we couldn’t really afford anymore, the expenisve little habit we’d formed. We usually buy our beans in whole form, which means it costs more per ounce than ground. Our preference is shade-grown, fair trade, organic stuff but that’s been out of our range for a daily habit for some time now. We’d settled on Starbucks Serena Organic and usually paid 7-10 dollars a bag. That took us about 10 days to use.

In a tight grocery budget, wine got nixed for being in that price range and more. Ditto the fancy cheeses. Even ice cream rarely shows it’s little pint-sized face. But I held onto coffee as long as I could.

Then, I started to feel like a snob. All those other, cheaper brands on the shelf and none of them were good enough for little ole’ us? I started experimenting.

First I tried other brands of whole beans. To get the same richness, or at least somewhat close to it, I had to use twice the amount of beans. Not exactly economical as we then went through a bag every 6 days. Then I broke down and bought a few kinds of ground.

It feeds the addiction. That’s about all I can say for it. To smell it, you have to stick your nose *in* the bag, it’s perfume has faded so drastically. The grind looks pale and like it’s been on the shelf for a long time. If one is only drinking it to get that jolt of caffine, it can be choked down times two and you will avoid the shakes and a headache. If one is drinking it to savor a warm cup of bliss on a cold morning, quietly feeling the lights come on in each biological system, it is severely lacking.

Snob indeed I supose. Or just spoiled. But there are much, much bigger problems in the world and I set my visions on frothy cups of latte to come in my financially free future and sucked it up. Literally.

Last week a package was dropped off on my doorstep. Like a drug-sniffing canine, my ears perked up first. As I picked the box up, I could faintly smell something very familiar. Rich….dark. It was from David’s Mom which always means goodies of some kind, usually hitting a need we have for the kids without anyone telling her ahead of time what it is. From my lips to God to her ears  more often than not. This time though, it wasn’t from my lips…it must have just been from my heart.

The box holds valentine treats for the chickens. I set it aside for the Big Day so as to increase the excitment for them on the 14th. But I kept coming back to it. I KNEW I smelled something other than chocolate and new clothes.

And there, in one of the cellophane wrapped bags, was a bag of Starbucks Casi Cielo. Guatemalan. Dinner Coffee most often I’m sure because even inhaling it’s unbrewed aroma makes one long for a mousse topped chocolate cake.  If you listen to things like wine and coffee they will tell you exactly what they want you to have with them.

This one wants to be cherished. It wants to be made in a press and allowed to quietly do it’s magic on the water. It positively cries out for a thick white mug and a little drop of cream. It won’t do to drink it fast on the way out the door. No. It wants you to take it in a quiet room and slowly sip it’s warm, dark, power. It will softly sigh across your tongue and each sip will find a different part of your body to warm and awaken. It was grown, even created,  to transform and affect and it’s does it’s job very, very well.

God amazes me more often than not. A little old bean can hold so much magnificence.  It’s just a tiny fragment of creation, too perfect to have been accidental, and I find it very cool that some part of God thought coffee would be a good idea to create. If rocks cry out then so do beans. This one shouts in whispers.

One cup a day. I’m listening.

 

Rowan is walking more and more every day but when he has a need for speed, it’s on hands and knees! He loved the snow!

I still find it hard to believe that I like beans all at, in any form. For most of my childhood I detested them. Well, along with about 560 other foods I now love! Here’s encouragement for mothers of picky eaters everywhere: reformation is possible!

I still think kidney beans look like ripe stuffed ticks. How’s that for picturesque? A’s Creative Writing homework this week included the assignment to think of 3 words that describe a food in a gross way (or something like that). A did a great job all on his own as you can imagine but I can not think of any  other way to describe red kidney beans than curled, stuffed ticks just about to pop. Ewwwwwww…..

Blame it on my parents (doesn’t every kid do that once in awhile :-)?) My job at 9 was to pick deer ticks off Lil’John, our Golden Retriever who was always in the fields, gathering porcupine quills and scent of skunk and whatever dead thing he could find (deer carcass anyone?). But I digress…..

A few years ago I went from beanless chili to dainty little red beans. One of the fastest ways to stretch a grocery budget is to shift from making a chunk of meat the main dish and use it as an ingredient instead. So, I found that by using a can of those cute little red beans, almost a dusky pink in color, I could reduce the hamburger to 1/2 a lb. The beans took on the flavor of the chili and thus a gentle introduction was begun.

I found later that white beans, or “Great Northern Beans” as I find them more romantically called, are excellent in white chicken chili recipes. And refied beans really do a marvelous thing to a crammed-full fajita. A girl I went to church with last year brought me a big bag of “soldier beans”…speckled little beauties that had been locally grown where her mother lived. That was all I had to hear: it was right at the beginning of my “eat locally/seasonally” project and I cooked them up as she recommened, sort of a baked bean recipe. They were delicous with a green salad and thick wedges of bread spread with creamy pale butter.

Lentils are fantastic the way my sister taught me to make them. My blessing of a friend here in Knoxville taught me how to fast cook dried beans so that it’s not too late if I didn’t start them the day before. My online buddy Carol wooed me with her awesome homemade refries recipe, made even better with pale pink cranberry beans instead of pintos. My favorite store, Horn of Plenty, has a wall full of baskets with every variety of beans, all locally grown, and they are so visually pleasing that I think anyone would have a hard time not admiring them as they walk past.

Or sinking thier hands deep down, like Amelie did in the movie named the same. ( I hear french accordian music now).

Now we eat beans at least 4 times a week. They’ve become an inexpensive and high fiber addition to our menu-on-a-budget. My clothes have been loose lately; a friend asked me yesterday if I’d lost weight. With no scale in the house, I really have no idea, but it would make sense. We’ve been eating lower fat (even with real butter, sausage gravy, and the occassional Ben and Jerry’s Dublin Mudslide) and we are hungry less after a plate that includes beans.

I still have alot to learn. There are TONS of variations and possiblities with this staple of the world. I found a new recipe this week that is really easy to keep on hand for quick meals (think: those times when you are dashing in and out and have time to sit and eat but not to cook). With the cilantro, it’s a quick taste of warmer days to come but if you truly don’t like cilantro I guess you could leave it out.

Winter Taco Salad

The beans:

A can of black eye peas, rinsed and drained

A can of redbeans, rinsed and drained

half of a red onion, chopped as small as you like the bites

about a 1/4 c. chopped fresh cilantro

a dash of olive oil

a half cup of salsa or picante

kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

Make it ahead of time and refridgerate.

The salad:

torn romaine leaves

tortilla chips

diced tomato (if you want to eat it out of season)

diced cheddar cheese

Top salad with beans and drizzle with ranch dressing.

Which leads me to….want to make your own Ranch, helping to eliminate the demon MSG and save money besides? I’ve made up my own “recipe” but it also has a few variations, depending what you have on hand.

Ranch Dressing:

1/2 c. sour cream

1/2 c. mayo

a few T. of buttermilk (the real stuff, not soured milk made with lemon juice, and this ingredient depends on if you want it more like a thick dip or a more fluid dressing)

garlic powder or granulated garlic (maybe a t)

a t. of sugar

salt and pepper taste

1/2 t. each of dried basil and chives

1/4 t. of dried oregano

Stir and taste. Adjust as you like.

W has a friend over for a play date today and the two of them were playing with Papa Graham’s old fire hat. The conversation went like this….

W: “Well, that is my DAD’s dad….

I mean…I have a Nana… do you know what a Nana is?

Well a Nana is…well, I mean… a great-grandma Nana….well, her dad….my Nana’s FATHER was a FIRE MAN

and that’s his hat. Yep! It’s true!”

It’s a gorgeous morning outside…blue and yellow, white and bright. Rain is coming, and perhaps snow, but for now birds are twittering ’round hyperactive squirrles on the tree outside.

It’s Friday and the quiet pace, the sigh of a weekend almost here, is nearly tangible. My heart is a bit melancholy as I sip my coffee and notice the beauty all around me.

I’ve spent the last two weeks with intense nausea, food aversions, cramping, and insomnia. Nightly dry mouth and fatigue. It felt just like morning sickness but worse. Was I pregnant? I supose every fertile woman asks herself that question….monthly. Most especially when the “visitor” is well over a week late. It doesn’t matter how “careful” we were or how little money there is or how many things we want to get accomplished in a year. When there is a whisper of life about, my heart feels light.

Because no matter what the situation, life is ALWAYS a beautiful miracle and babies will always be welcome here.

As it turns out, our family isn’t going to grow by another this month. Of course, now I have extreme nausea *and* a visitor…ain’t it fun bein’ a girl? I guess my body just decided to chuck it’s incredibly short turn over time of 20 days and stretch out a bit, ripping my system up to shreds while it was at it. And, part of me is relieved…all those plans still in place. The money not strained even farther. The worried and disappointed reactions from those who disapprove, averted. But that is just part of me.

The other part knows there is a tender, handmade white dress I bought for Clara that went unworn, hanging with tags in my closet. The other part considered a name and joked with her lover about possible variations. The other part remembered how beautiful my little newborns come out looking with thier perfectly round heads and sweet features. And that smell…..thier little heads smell sooo sweet.

Life will always be welcome here. Our household is teeming with activity and love; may it always be so.

After weeks of stews, soups, applesauce, and oatmeal, I saw a different sight in my cart last night. It started in the produce section: ruby red rhubarb stalks, bags of earthy smelling radishes, beets, still with clumbs of garden dirt clinging to thier fingered roots were on sale. Leeks in bright, spring green clusters. Waxy rutabegas and violet and white turnips….

Winter’s landscape looks drear on first glance and is layered in earth tones upon deeper observation. But spring is bright and fresh from every glance.

With the groundhog seeing his shadow and 6 weeks of winter thus predicted, and a snow forecast four days long this weekend, it might seem that spring is far away. And if one is waiting for breezy, balmy days and buds on the trees, it might be. But if one eats seasonally, spring has sprung! The root veggies, hearty and thick and ready to be roasted, golden bits of olive oiled crust just waiting, are here. Berries from Florida and Georgia, cold and bright. The GREENS…lettuces of every ruffle, cabbages, citrus waiting to be made into vivid dressings…it’s all there!

Tonight is my very favorite kind of supper: focaccia with carmelized onions and sliced tomatoes and herbs, green salad with a simple lemon and oil dressing, and dark chocolate brownies. Survivor starts tonight too. Can’t wait!

I’ve written this with a story tape in my ear, a baby at my feet, a 5 year old asking for the millionth time “Mumma? What’s for dinner?” and the distinct urge to be alone. It happens to us all at some time I guess. My favorite “veg” show on the couch oughtta be just what the doctor ordered.