One Small Thing, and Dressed Up Tuna Salad

Leave a comment October 7, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

You’ve been hounding me to make a hair appointment, begging me to go shopping for clothes, and basically all around urging me to take care of my own self for a change.

It’s nice. I don’t feel so bad when I come home with a new pair of shoes that begged to be taken home with me while I was making a very glamorous diaper run at Target.

But it also makes me feel like saying, “What, you don’t love me just the way I am? Is my hair so terrible? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me but are too afraid to admit it? And by the way, when do you suppose I have time to do all these things, anyway? Oh, right: I’ll just leave the baby with our live-in nanny and spend the day gallivanting through the mall, scooping up armload after armload of beautiful things for myself while I sip champagne. Because clearly, we have all the money in the world to spend to do that sort of thing, and life at home runs smoothly without me. Dishes do themselves. Laundry puts itself away.”

I know you don’t think any of those things, of course. And I don’t scold you when you gently ask me about it (I don’t think, at least). I try to remind you it’s not as easy to take care of myself as it used to be before kids were around. I am so out of the loop on what’s actually in style these days because I don’t really have time to pay much attention. But that distinct mom style I’ve unintentionally been sporting lately has finally gotten the best of me–and you too, I think.

Making matters worse is the kids have collectively been sick for 10 days in a row, and finding a time to get away to make myself a priority is hard. When I do have a moment to spare, I’m too tired to think about much at all, let alone try on clothes for a few hours, trying to find my style as I do so. (It’s so exhausting, I’m telling you.)

Today I was thinking about all this as I stirred together tuna salad for lunch. Both Mia and Emery were zonked out at an early nap time, leaving me a few minutes to think about my own thoughts for a change. This tuna salad is really simple, quite uncomplicated and easy to throw together, but full of a few surprises that give it texture, interest and beauty. I got to thinking: that is exactly what I need in my style-life. I’m not exactly sure how to get there, but for me to have that much time to even think about what I’m looking for? Kinda huge.

It is HARD to put myself first, to spend money on myself, and to reject the guilt and self-loathing I hear whispering behind my back as I try pretty things on again. But please believe me: I am trying. I haven’t scheduled a hair appointment yet (that’s next on my agenda today), but I did do one small thing for myself this week: I decided to give Stitch Fix another try, and I filled out a profile for Trunk Club (thanks to a friend who swears by at-home styling services), and I’m hoping it helps. Plus, you can give me your honest opinion about what you like and what you don’t like, all without dragging you around town with me.

Love,
Scratch

PS – Both have have men’s styles, too. And, if anyone signs up for their own shipments from either of these places using my referral links, I get credit for it to use toward clothes of my own when they buy clothes for themselves. Score! Here they are:

Stitch Fix: https://www.stitchfix.com/referral/3192368

Trunk Club: https://www.trunkclub.com/my/invite/KTAGMF

Dressed Up Tuna Salad

This is my go-to lunch, one I make so often I could do it with my eyes closed. I make it with Greek yogurt when Emery isn’t around, but I use low fat mayonnaise instead if he is awake (because his little fingers often get a hold of whatever I happen to be eating). If curry powder scares you: worry not. You can leave it out. But I challenge you to try it because it’s really quite subtle and dresses up the salad just enough to make it a little bit fancy. Start with 1/4 teaspoon, and work your way up.

Ingredients:

1-5 oz. can albacore tuna

1/4 cup Greek yogurt (THM friends, use fat free. Or, to make it DF, use mayonnaise instead)

1/2 apple, diced

1 stalk celery, chopped

1 green onion sprig, chopped

2 Tablespoons dried cherries (or dried cranberries or golden raisins)

1/4-1/2 teaspoon Sweet Bombay Curry Powder

salt and pepper, to taste (about 1/4 tsp kosher salt does the trick for me)

sprinkle of almonds, for garnish (omit if nuts are a problem for you)

Method:

First, drain the tuna and dump it into a medium size bowl with plenty of room to mix well. Next, pile in all the other ingredients (except the almonds) and stir until well combined. Taste to adjust seasonings, then mound it on a pretty plate and sprinkle with toasted almonds.

A Winner, and Gooey Cocoa Crispy Rice Treats

Leave a comment September 19, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

Well, we left the house in a sort of rush on Friday to try to evade the get-out-of-town traffic. We didn’t do a very good job and it took far to long to get to the lake than we had hoped. Oh well. The busy morning also delayed me from announcing the winner of the Skip Hop Zoo Little Kid Backpack. Oops.

I did manage to at least choose the winner before we left for the weekend(and the winner is Deborah Gardner. Congratulations Deborah! Check your email for instructions on how to claim your prize.) But as a consolation prize, I have a never-let-you-down recipe for allergy friendly crispy treats. I figure disappointment deserves chocolate, right?

Plus, when things don’t turn out the way I planned or hoped or intended, chocolate helps me deal–especially when its made from a thoroughly dependable, never-fail sort of recipe.

Love,

Scratch

Gooey Cocoa Crispy Treats

These are basically that classic crispy rice treats we all know how to make, but my version is gooey-er than its traditional counterpart because I that’s the way I like it. I used cocoa crispy rice instead of the plain ones because, well–do I really need to give a reason to use chocolate? Since these are gluten free, dairy free, and nut free (and super easy to make), they are a great treat to turn to if allergies are an issue. Beware that not all crispy rice cereals are gluten free, so make sure to buy a box that explicitly states it is gluten free if gluten is an issue for you (I used Mom’s Best Crispy Cocoa Rice Cereal in this recipe). Otherwise, of course–use whatever crispy rice cereal you like.

Ingredients:

12 oz. marshmallows

1/4 cup Melt Organic Buttery Spread (or Earth Balance, or a similar vegan buttery spread to make these dairy free. Otherwise, use butter.)

6 cups Gluten Free Crispy Cocoa Rice Cereal

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

pinch of kosher salt (1/16 tsp)

Method:

First, prepare your pan. Lightly spray a 9 x 13 glass pan with non-stick coconut oil spray (or something similar). Set aside.

Next, set a big pot over medium heat and melt the buttery spread. Add the marshmallows and heat them gently, stirring almost constantly as they melt and meld with the buttery spread. Once they’re completely melted, stir in the salt and vanilla and quickly add the crispy rice, stirring to coat them completely with the molten marshmallow goodness.

Plunk the sticky mixture into the prepared glass pan and press the rice down, smoothing it as you go. It helps to spray your fingers with non-stick spray so the treats don’t stick to your fingers. Let the treats cool and set for a few minutes, then slice into them as you like.

Finding Beauty and Something New at the Farmers Market, and Stir-Fried Beef with Red Cabbage, Coconut, Lime and Cilantro

Leave a comment August 22, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

We finally made it to the Farmer’s Market this summer. It only took us until the first Saturday after school started to make it there. Not everyone was as excited about it as me: Addie crossed her arms and stomped her way to the car, going on about how mean we were for dragging her out of the house and huffing “You said I could color all day” as finally climbed into her seat.

Once we got there, I handed her my phone and asked her if she wanted to take some pictures. It was a desperate move on my part to coax a happy attitude out of her. The last thing I wanted was a grumpy, whiny kid ruining a trip to a place so alive with every color imaginable. Color and beauty speak to this kid and she has a knack for capturing it. Plus, she feels pretty grown up when I let her tinker around with the camera. I knew she’d take the bait.

As we strolled up the deserted aisle, 8:00 in the morning felt early. The tables were still piled high with fruits and vegetables that seemed to glisten in the morning light. Nothing was picked over yet and the sellers greeted us with the sort of smiles I read about in those winsome books about the farm to table movement. I felt like we were part of something big, beautiful and important in those few quiet moments.

I led the girls from stall to stall, pointing out the colors and textures and quizzing them on the names of the things they saw. They swooned over the brilliant red berries, begging to taste as much as they were allowed. They touched and smelled and asked questions as we went. Then, I let each girl pick something special: Addie picked a ruddy heirloom tomato that looked very much like clown lips to her young eyes. Mia picked a pale green bitter melon, a new vegetable for us and one she wasn’t actually keen on tasting after all. But the farmer was so kind to tell us all about it, and his enthusiasm for it must have done its job because she was pretty excited to tell you all about it.

I was not as excited to cook it, to be honest. As I sliced it up, I wondered how I would ever mellow the sharp bite that in my mind screams don’t eat me! But the little mound of scalloped half moons piling up on my cutting board was so pretty I didn’t care about that for a moment: certainly they would just make dinner more beautiful.

They did, and they didn’t. Certainly the colors and textures of that stir fry were far more brilliant than much I’ve made lately, but the sly bitterness of the cute little veggie was not our favorite. Thankfully it didn’t permeate the rest of dinner, because what I came up with was super delicious in its own right.

So hooray for us for getting up and out on an otherwise lazy Saturday morning, for stretching our legs and our culinary muscles and trying something new and different. And hallelujah for a pantry full of ingredients to turn something so-so into something delicious.

Love,

Scratch

Stir Fried Beef and Cabbage with Coconut, Lime and Cilantro

After all that, bitter melon didn’t make it to the ingredient list here, but if you enjoy a challenge (or happen to like bitter melon), it really does work in this recipe. We handled about a half-dozen bites with it until we started plucking the pieces out of our bowls). Like I said before, the bitterness didn’t overpower the flavor of the dish, and what was left was sweet and tangy, mellow and spicy all at the same time. This dish uses Tamari, which is gluten free soy sauce (regular soy sauce uses wheat, a lesson I learned the hard way). Addie likes the beef ok, but the veggies aren’t her favorite yet. Emery liked it all until he got a bite of the bitter melon. And Mia wouldn’t go near this for the life of her.

Ingredients:

For the sauce:

1/4 low sodium Tamari

1/4 white vinegar

5 Tablespoons lime juice (plus more for garnish)

2 T Stevia/erythrytol sweetener blend (like this one) or about 4 T cane sugar

a pinch of kosher salt

For the Stir Fry:

1 pound ground beef

1 medium carrot, jullienned

1/2 medium head red cabbage, sliced (about 5 cups or so)

5 green onions, ends removed and cut into 1″ sections

1/2 medium onion, diced

3 garlic cloves, minced

2/3 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

1/4 cup fresh cilantro, minced (plus more for garnish)

2 Tablespoons unrefined Coconut Oil

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

almond slices, for garnish

Method:

First, prep the veggies and have them cut and ready to go. Next, mix together the sauce; taste it and adjust the sweetness as you go.

Now for the meat: set a large skillet over medium heat. Melt the coconut oil, then add the onions to the pan and cook until they are almost translucent. Next, add the garlic and cook for a few minutes until the it releases its fragrance. Turn the heat up to medium high and add the beef into the pan, squishing it as you go to make nice large pieces of it. Season the beef with the ginger, salt and red pepper flakes.

On to the veggies: crank up the heat to high and add the carrots first, then the cabbage. Cook those two together for a few minutes (3-5) and let them soften a bit. Add the green onions next, then the coconut. Pour in that sauce and let it deglaze the pan. Once the veggies are soft to your liking, add in the cilantro and give it a good stir.

To serve, mound the sweet and spicy goodness into a bowl and top it with more red pepper flakes, a squeeze of lime juice, a sprinkle of cilantro, and almond slices if nuts are your thing.

Finding Beauty and Something New at the Farmers Market, and Coconut Lime Beef with Cilantro and Red Cabbage

Leave a comment August 22, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

Love,

Scratch

Coconut Lime Beef with Cilantro and Red Cabbage

Ingredients:

For the sauce:

1/4 low sodium Tamari

1/4 white vinegar

5 Tablespoons lime juice (plus more for garnish)

2 T Stevia/erythrytol sweetener blend (like this one) or about 4 T cane sugar

a pinch of kosher salt

For the Stir Fry:

1 pound ground beef

1 medium carrot, jullienned

1/2 medium head red cabbage, sliced (about 5 cups or so)

5 green onions, ends removed and cut into 1″ sections

1/2 medium onion, diced

3 garlic cloves, minced

2/3 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

1/4 cup fresh cilantro, minced (plus more for garnish)

2 Tablespoons unrefined Coconut Oil

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

almond slices, for garnish

Method:

First, prep the veggies and have them cut and ready to go. Next, mix together the sauce; taste it and adjust the sweetness as you go.

To serve, mound the sweet and spicy goodness into a bowl and top it with more red pepper flakes, a squeeze of lime juice, a sprinkle of cilantro, and almond slices if nuts are your thing.

Comfort Me with Dinner and Kid Friendly Cassoulet

1 Comment August 18, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

This morning when I called Addie into the bathroom to get her hair brushed, she cast a sideways glance at me and asked,”Are you going to cry again today?” I laughed and said, “I hope not, kid. But probably.” The emotion swirling around the first few days of Kindergarten has subsided now, for the most part. We’re off and running now, finding our stride and fully expecting to hit a few bumps along the way.

We made it through the first few mornings of back to school mayhem, and even though it went well, it took a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, aren’t you? Trying to be organized with these three tornadoes swirling around me is laughable. The lazy summer days masked my disorganized self quite well, but the fall semester ripped the cloak right off of me and exposed me for who I am: a disaster. I haven’t showered in two days. (Again. Gross.) and I finally understand what all those moms of school-aged kids meant when they told me to enjoy the pajama-clad, messy-bun days at home with little bitty babies while I could. They were right: those days are a cake walk compared to these new bigger-kid days. Back then the only one who saw me unshowered was you. Now the world sees me as I really am.

Plus, organizing the girls’ schedules and toting them from here to there dressed, fed and on time– with a baby in tow–is tough. Forget getting myself ready: making sure everyone else is ready to go at the same time, with everything they need, while they all still need me to do so much for them is the priority. Add to that my guilt over how much time Emery spends riding in the car now along with the heartbreak that comes flooding in when I scoop him up from his nap on the way to pick Addie up from school, and I have a whole new batch of mommy exhaustion and guilt.

Never mind the fact that I still, somehow, in the middle of all this have to make dinner. For weeks leading up to the first day of school, I had plans to have a big, comfort-food laden meal welcoming us all home and into evening hours with peace and comfort, anchoring us all to each other again after the first of many days ahead spent going our separate ways. By 3:00 that afternoon, though, I still didn’t have the slightest idea what to cook. I let guilt over that taunt me for a few minutes, until the idea of warming up leftover beans and quinoa (again) was too much to handle. So I opened the fridge, poked around, and found a pack of Italian Sausages smiling up at me practically begging to be cooked. I thought about the way Addie inhales deeply, sighing “What smells so good?” whenever I cook them, and I realized Cassoulet was the perfect solution for this unprepared mother’s lofty ideals of a comforting family meal.

I browned those sausages and chopped up carrots and sauteed onions and garlic, happily listening to Addie chatter about her adventures of the day, nodding and murmuring Oh really? How cool! as I did so. A few minutes of this and she stopped mid-sentence, clearly catching a whiff of the magical combination of onions and garlic and asked with a smirk, “What’s for dinner?” Those words make my heart sing because what I’m really hearing is “Comfort me with dinner.”

We actually sat down at the table together on the first day of school–all five of us–and ate the same thing at the same time. There were a few tense moments of course, because our children are normal and young and protest if they are given anything other than noodles. But overall, it was wonderful. It slowed us down and helped us connect. The best part wasn’t even the food: when it was Mia’s turn to share her High Point from her day, she looked up from her plate and smiled, saying, “Right now.”

In those few minutes, I was filled with a new appreciation for what dinnertime could be in the coming years: a daily ritual of comfort, all of us together, connected and fed in more ways than one. What kid wouldn’t look forward to coming home from school to that?

That is, if I can get organized and figure out what to cook.

Love,

Scratch

Kid Friendly Cassoulet (GF/DF/NF)

Addie can’t seem to remember the name of this dish (I can’t blame her. Cassoulet is a sort of tricky word for a 5 year old), but she oohs and ahhs when I tell her I’m making sausage and bean stew, which is pretty much what this is–and an easy one at that. I tend to have the ingredients around most of the time and can toss it together quickly. The food is simple, but the flavors are fantastic, and all my children really do eat this. It is both gluten and dairy free, which makes it easier to get us all eating the same thing. I go easy on the thyme because any more of it overpowers the other flavors for me, but if you love the stuff, then by all means, add more. But whatever you do, don’t leave out the red wine vinegar. It makes all the other flavors come alive.

Ingredients:

6 Italian sausages, uncooked
2-13.5 cans diced tomatoes (juices included)
2-13.5 ounce cans Great Northern Beans, drained
2 medium carrots, peeled and diced to 1/4 cubes or so
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tablespoons tomato paste
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon thyme
a few glugs of olive oil

Method:

In a dutch oven, warm up the olive oil over medium high heat. Line the sausages up in the pan and let them turn deep golden brown on both sides, about 2-3 minutes per side. Remove the sausages to a separate plate and lower the heat to medium. Toss in the onions and stir them around a bit, coating them in all those delicious sausage drippings. Cook them a few minutes so that they soften and start to turn translucent. Then, turn the heat down to medium low and toss in the garlic. In a minute or two you’ll start to smell the garlic; at that point add in the carrots and cook to soften a little, about 3-4 minutes. Sprinkle in the thyme and salt, then add in the tomatoes, tomato paste and red wine vinegar. Stir everything together and turn up the heat to medium. When the mixture begins to bubble, add in the drained beans and gently stir again. Slip the sausages from their plate back into the pan, along with any juice they’ve left behind, and nestle them in with the beans and veggies. When the stew starts to bubble, put the lid on top and put the whole thing in the oven. Leave it there for 40 minutes. After 30 minutes have passed, take the lid off, but keep the dish in the oven for another 45 minutes or so, until the sauce has thickened up and carmelized.

This would be fantastic served with crusty bread, clearly. But since I haven’t mastered the art of the gluten free loaf yet, we served it with roasted cauliflower and a simple cucumber tomato salad.

The Apple Tree Is Empty Now and Brandied Apple Crisp

Leave a comment August 15, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

Yesterday we picked the last three apples from our gnarled old apple tree. Those beauties ripened just as the school year wrapped up last spring, when the promise of summer was fresh and exciting. Somehow, summer slipped by and here we were picking the last few of them just two days before school starts again.

We can’t really make sense of this summertime harvest: apples are a fruit of the fall. What’s the deal with all these things hanging around during the hot summer months, the worst time of the year to turn on the stove and make something with them? I did my best: I baked batch after batch of spiced brown sugar apple crisp and applesauce muffins, along with several jars of applesauce. I sliced apples for the freezer and for fancy cheese platters and for summertime snacks. And we know how many apples Emery munched on while swinging in the afternoons. Still, so many of our apples went to waste. The lawn was littered with them, bruised and cracked open and piling up faster than we liked because it was so hard to use them all.

I feel pretty guilty about all this. I lovingly blame my grandparents: they had an apple tree in their backyard and darn it if they didn’t find a way to use up every last bit of fruit that tree produced. I can still see them working in their kitchen: my grandpa manning the apple peeler and magically transforming apple skins into curly green ribbons while my grandma flits to and fro, slicing apples and hovering over the hot stove, watching as the apples cooked down. They must have done this many times for the duration of apple season because by the time it was over, their freezer was filled to the brim with applesauce and apple crisps.

Not us: we did the best we could, but still so many apples went unused. Every time we tossed another bucketful of rotten apples into the yard waste bin, my heart sank a little lower in defeat. Even as I write this, I hear my Grandma Teague’s voice chiding me, saying “How you managed to put up any of those apples is beyond me! You’re a busy girl, my dear.” She’s right: I need to give myself more grace. We had more apples than we could deal with.

At the beginning of summer, a tree full of ripening fruit symbolized the promise of months ahead full of sweet moments, and I vowed to make the most of every last one of them. And I did, a lot of the time. But as summer wore on, that apple tree turned into an hour glass that emptied too fast. Time passed and apples fell, and I felt more and more pressure to do more, be more, enjoy more, because soon these golden days would be over. The more pressure I put on myself, the more weary I became. I let more and more apples fall without giving them my attention. Before I knew it, the apples ran out.

Summer is gone now; school starts today. The tree sits outside our kitchen window empty, and I wonder if I let too many moments with the girls slip by without giving them my full attention, too, just like I did with those apples. I whisper to God, “Was it good enough?” as I wonder how the girls will remember this summer, hoping their memories will hold on to the good stuff and toss away the bad.

As I sat wondering all this, I thought about Galations 6:9. the verse that talks about not growing weary while doing good, especially to those closest to you, and how it will bring about a good harvest at the right time. I struggle to feel like I’ve done that at all because I became weary a lot this summer, letting moment after precious moment fall, too tired to make the most of every single one of them.

I put so much pressure on myself to make this summer perfect, but in His kindness God reminded me that the process is ongoing. The apple tree is empty now, but the hard work that will bring about the next harvest is just getting started. So it is with the school year: by next summer, what a good crop we will bring in if we work hard with the end goal in mind. They’ll be like a “trees planted along the riverbank, bearing fruit each season. Their leaves never wither, and they [will] prosper in all they do” (Psalm 1:3, NLT). Being in the moment and investing our time and energy into their little lives, little by little, will turn into something beautiful and good.

After we cleared the branches and brought the last of the apples inside yesterday, I set to work on yet another apple crisp, one meant to share with friends who we had not seen all summer long. It seemed fitting to mark the occasion with the last of our little harvest of apples. The girls surprised me by asking if they could help, and I hesitated for a moment. I really wanted to get the job done quickly because our friends would be there soon and I still hadn’t showered for the day, but with all these ideas about wasted time swirling around my head, I said yes instead. Addie hopped up on the counter and helped mix a few ingredients together before insisting she take pictures as Mia and I worked on the rest. And so, we enjoyed the last real free afternoon of summer vacation peeling, slicing, and baking, turning the last of the bit of the season into something special.

Love,

Scratch

Brandied Apple Crisp (GF/DF/NF)

I realize I’ve been talking a lot about apples lately, but I offer this recipe as penance for my repetition. Gluten free, dairy free and nut free (as always, around here), this crisp is based on my recipe for Spiced Brown Sugar Apple Crisp, which was born out of a need to modify my Grandma’s famous Apple Crisp. This version is tweaked just enough to make it a little bit more indulgent. The topping is a little heartier, but the brandy is really what sets this dessert apart–don’t skimp on it. The alcohol cooks out as it bakes, leaving a delicate brandy flavor that melds beautifully with the brown sugar and spices. And of course, we topped off with with dairy free vanilla ice cream, because is there really any other way to eat it?

Ingredients:

For the Filling:
30 ounces peeled and cored apples (crisp and tart-sweet, like Granny Smith), sliced to about 1/4″ (about 6-8 apples, depending on their size. If they are large, you will probably only need four of them, but if they are on the smaller size, you will need six or so).
4 1/2 Tablespoons brandy
4 1/2 Tablespoons cornstarch
3 Tablespoons pure cane sugar

1/4 cup + 2 Tablespoons packed light brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt

For the Topping:
2 1/2 ounces coarsely ground gluten free oats
1/2 cup Gluten Free Flour Blend*
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup pure cane sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
5 Tablespoons Soy Free Earth Balance, melted (regular butter works too)
pinch of salt

*This blend contains xanthan gum, but if yours doesn’t, add 1/8 teaspoon to the filling ingredients and 1/4 teaspoon to the topping ingredients.

Method:

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees and grease a 3 1/2 quart baking dish (I take the easy way out and use coconut oil spray).

Wash, peel, and slice the apples about 1/4″ thick. Toss them into a large bowl as you go and sprinkle the brandy on top when you’re done. Give them a good stir, making sure the brandy is well distributed among the apples.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients for the filling. Pour them on top of the apples and toss it all together until each apple slice is coated with the sugar mixture; then pour them into the prepared baking dish.

Pop it into the oven and leave it there for 60 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the brown sugar is melted and bubbly.

The Fruit of Our Prayers and Spiced Brown Sugar Apple Crisp

1 Comment July 31, 2016 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

Remember all those years ago when we started praying for fruit? I think about how that prayer has been answered every time I pick an apple off of our apple tree.

It all started because we cancelled our membership to a local Consumer Supported Agriculture (CSA) because our grocery budget couldn’t really handle the novelty of it anymore. It seemed like a good decision at the time. It was the middle of winter, we were getting a whole lot of lacinato kale, swiss chard and leeks that just sort of sat in our fridge, sad and limp at their lack of use. There were only so many ways we could think to cook a leek, after all.

Even so, my ego took a hit when we decided to forego the delivery service for awhile. I was an informed and responsible consumer and belonging to a CSA made a difference, you know? But we were still getting used to the expenses that arrive the same day a child does, and so we chose to go back to buying commercially produced fruit and vegetables again, promising we would be more diligent with our dollars for awhile and go back to the CSA when our wallet loosened up a bit.

But time kept us moving along and we didn’t go back. We had another baby, moved in with my parents and started the year long work of saving for a house of our own. In the midst of all that, we started remembering our CSA boxes with the sort of wistfulness that made us long for the ease of just-picked fruit magically landing on our doorstep before the sun came up. We even missed that fridge full of wilted winter vegetables (leeks in particular, ironically, because of those tempura leeks. Hallelujah.) We talked about joining the CSA again, but we just couldn’t seem to make it work for our family. I still felt pretty deflated about it. Even the promise of making it work once we moved into our home, the place we’d plant ourselves and grow together as a family, didn’t really help. And so I did what I always do when I don’t get my way: I pouted.

When I came to my senses, put away my bottom lip and thought about why any of this mattered to me at all, I realized this: something primordial is lost when produce is produced commercially. Food was created to be good. It is supposed to taste good. The way our food system works now, most of us are missing out on the goodness of that food. Everyone knows a tomato freshly plucked from its vine tastes nothing like its mealy, flavorless counterpart available at any major supermarket. Our kids sure do: they spit out grape tomatoes purchased from the store, complaining the little things sting their tongue. But they’ve race toward our own grape tomato bush nearly every morning this summer, picking the firey red ones as fast as they can shove them into their mouths.

God intended for food to taste amazing when he created it. I’m sure of it:

“God spoke:

‘Earth, green up! Grow all varieties
        of seed-bearing plants,
    Every sort of fruit-bearing tree.’
        And there it was.
    Earth produced green seed-bearing plants,
        all varieties,
    And fruit-bearing trees of all sorts.
        God saw that it was good.”

(Genesis 1:11-13, MSG)

I have a hard time believing God only saw the functionality and efficiency of his design as good. This is the same God that illuminates the sky at night with beacons of blazing glory; the same God that infuses a baby’s head with its intoxicating sweetness; the same God that paints flowers in resplendent hue. This is the God that created our food for our nourishment and our enjoyment.

It’s hard to feel like I don’t have a choice but to feed our kids virtually tasteless, pesticide laden foods. It’s hard to teach them to love fruits and vegetables when the ones they’re given are mushy and tasteless. It’s hard to make a case for eating more of them when it feels more like punishment than something to savor. It’s hard to miss out on experiencing the glory of the way food is supposed to taste.

And so, I began to pray for organic fruit. And I asked you to start praying for organic fruit too. I felt a little foolish suggesting it, but since food is so central to life, I decided a strange prayer like that wasn’t really so weird after all. Plus, I was ready to be rid of the weird mix of guilt, humiliation and longing that still harassed me every time I went shopping. But you didn’t laugh at me. You affirmed me and added to the depth of the prayer, reminding me that fruit is the thing toward which much energy and attention moves; an end product; a result of effort spent. Wasn’t that what we were doing that year, saving for a home? (Not to mention our children’s lives–who they are and who they are becoming–don’t we pray for a rich harvest there, too?) And so, we began praying for fruit. The organic kind.

Eventually, the arduous year of saving for a house produced fruit of its own, and we found ourselves putting down roots in a house with a gnarled old apple tree standing proud in the backyard. I didn’t love the tree at first, but then springtime came and we marveled at they way its blossoms sprang to life and my heart changed. Apples followed, and come back every summer, a very real answer to prayer. We may not be part of a CSA again yet, but we have organic fruit growing at our house.

We’ve been enjoying these apples this summer especially. It’s a little funny that the tree produces before the fall, I think; but I pray our kids remember this summer spent under its branches, picking its fruit and nibbling on them before breakfast in the early morning sunshine. As Addie was eating one just last week, she sighed and said to me, “this is the best apple I’ve ever tasted.”

So many prayers answered, right there, in that beautiful moment.

Love,
Scratch

Spiced Brown Sugar Apple Crisp

This recipe evolved from my disastrous first attempt at making a gluten free pie crust. I had never made a gluten free pie before, but with so many apples around, I couldn’t very well not bake a pie, could I? But my best effort nevertheless turned into a salty, gloppy paste. Happily, I have enough of my Grandma Teague’s good sense in me to salvage the apples and make an apple crisp instead. Later, as Joey spooned it into his mouth straight from the baking dish, he announced between bites, “I like this better than apple pie anyway.”

Ingredients:

For the Filling:
20 ounces peeled and cored apples (crisp and tart-sweet, like Granny Smith), sliced to about 1/4″ (about 4-6 apples, depending on their size. If they are large, you will probably only need four of them, but if they are on the smaller size, you will need six or so).
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 Tablespoons Gluten Free Flour Blend*
2 Tablespoons evaporated cane juice (pure cane sugar works too) 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

For the Topping:
3 1/2 ounces coarsely ground oats (gluten free if necessary)
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup Gluten Free Flour Blend*
1/4 cup refined coconut oil
pinch of salt

*This blend contains xanthan gum, but if yours doesn’t, add 1/8 teaspoon to the filling ingredients and 1/4 teaspoon to the topping ingredients.

Method:

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees and grease a 9′ pie plate or glass baking dish (I take the easy way out and use coconut oil spray).

Then, the dirty work: wash, peel, and slice the apples about 1/4″ thick. Toss them into a large bowl as you go and sprinkle the lemon juice on top when you’re done. Give them a good stir, making sure the lemon juice is well distributed among the apples.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients for the filling. Pour the spicy goodness on top of the apples and toss it together as you would a salad so that each apple slice is coated with the sugar mixture; then pour them into the prepared baking dish.

On to the topping: in a separate bowl, cut the coconut oil into the ground oats, sugar, etc., until it looks like coarse sand. Spread evenly over the top of the apples.

Pop the pan into the oven and leave it there for 40 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the brown sugar melts into spicy liquid love, bubbling up around the edges and beckoning to be married with vanilla ice cream.

It Might as Well Be Now and French Toast Crepes

1 Comment July 6, 2014 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

Well, seeing as my attempt at an afternoon nap is shot, and seeing as I am sick of doing housework this weekend, and seeing as I have hit a plateau in caring about the book I am reading (which really is good, but I have walked away from it so many times in the past week that I seem to have forgotten just how good it is), it might as well be now that I mention these little gems before the urge to do so fades.

We tend to do pancakes on Saturdays around here, but yesterday you graciously let me sleep in well past the breakfast hour (in other words, I got to sleep through the typical 6:00 am wake up call of hungry little girls). When I finally emerged at 7:50, it felt far too late in the day to put effort into making pancakes. The better part of our morning was gone by then anyway. Besides, you and the girls had already eaten bowls of cereal by then, so the girls were satisfied.

But of course, after you headed back to bed for a mid-morning nap while I sat down to a cup of tea and the last bit of that Chocolate Banana Bread I’d made earlier this week, those girls were practically stealing my breakfast off of my plate, acting as if they hadn’t been fed in days. Without much to go around, I felt like I should have put in the effort to make those darn pancakes after all. Tomorrow, I promised myself.

And of course that self-made promise was partly out of necessity, as our pantry stores are at the point where creativity will be key to making them last until our next trip to the grocery store. With speckled bananas to spare and our stock of alternative flours diminished, our new favorite banana pancakes would have to be made at some point. Unless I threw the bananas into the freezer. (But then what would we eat for breakfast?)

This morning Addie was up at 6:00 as usual, and I somehow managed to whip together a handful of ingredients to make these bare-cupboard friendly pancake/crepe-like things. And you know what? I am just going to start calling them crepes because they are much closer to a crepe in character than they are pancakes. And honestly, I bet they would be perfect rolled up with sliced bananas, strawberries, and/or chocolate or and topped with some whipped cream or powdered sugar (but then they would not be so bare-cupboard friendly, would they?).

This batch was perfect–perhaps the best I have ever made. They tasted just like the crispy, sweet crust of classic french toast. And wouldn’t you know it, after all that, neither of the girls were interested in them for breakfast until you got up and started munching on them. By then, two hours later, they were cold. (I can’t win.) But I promise these French Toast Crepes (as I am now officially calling them), do win when they are fresh from the griddle.

Maybe next time I will make them just for myself, stuff them with fruit and chocolate and slather them in whipped cream and see if anyone cares to join me. (I know you will, at least.)

Love,
Scratch

French Toast Crepes

I admit I did not come up with the idea for these on my own. I first read about making pancakes out of pureed bananas and eggs on Shauna Niequist’s Facebook feed. Until then, I hadn’t heard of them. But apparently they’re all the rage and you can find many versions of them. Hers are the simplest: pureed bananas and eggs whisked together and cooked like pancakes. Joey and I liked them well enough, but Joey suggested tinkering around until we found the right concoction to make them taste a little fancier. Cinnamon, vanilla and sea salt did the trick. I used to slather the griddle with butter, but have switched to refined coconut oil due to Emery’s dairy allergy. I still highly recommend using butter (because, YUM.), but refined coconut oil does the job well too.

Ingredients:

3-4 very ripe bananas (3 if they’re large; 4 if they’re on the smaller side)
6 large eggs (or 8 medium eggs)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp baking powder (optional, but they’ll have a bit more body if you use it)
Refined coconut oil, for cooking

Method:

First, puree the bananas until smooth – no lumps, please! (I use this immersion blender and it makes my life so much easier. I highly recommend it.)

Next, add the eggs, cinnamon, vanilla and salt. Whisk until well combined. Add in the baking soda (if using) and mix well. The batter should look like a thin pancake batter, but a bit thicker than traditional crepe batter.

Heat up your griddle and plunk a knob of coconut oil on top, about a half tablespoon per batch or so.

Pour the batter onto your hot griddle and cook on medium-high heat. I usually use about 1/4 cup per crepe, but you may certainly make them as big or small as you like. Cook as you would a pancake–look for the sides to firm up a bit, and for bubbles to rise up a bit in the center. They won’t bubble as much as traditional pancakes, so watch them carefully. Flip when they are golden and cook for another two minutes or so.

Serve as you like. We like them right off the griddle as a quick hand-held breakfast, but I’m serious when I say they’d be amazing stuffed with something sweet and topped off with something even sweeter.

A Living Cookbook and Greek Chicken-Lemon Soup

2 Comments June 20, 2014 Rachel Maier

Dear Joey,

As you know, I have a major weakness for cookbooks. If I happened upon an extra bit of money that I could spend on anything, you and I both know I would blow it on a new pile of cookbooks. Never mind the fact that I have three shelves full of them; I can confidently admit that I simply do not have enough of them. There’s always a new release I’m dying to get my hands on; an elusive, hard-to-come-by classic; those charming old cookbooks all tattered and splattered and dog-eared and very well-loved; and the ones I’ve never heard of that I fall madly in love with the moment I lay eyes on the cover.

I seem to go in phases with my cookbooks, working my way through them for a good solid year (at least), learning from them, experimenting with them and being inspired by them. Two years ago, I was all about the family meal. Bringing home baby number two compelled me to take a peek at how other mothers created the sacred rhythm of the family dinner in their own homes. (With two under two? What was I thinking?). Books like Jenny Rosenstrach‘s Dinner: A Love Story, and Laurie David and Kirstin Uhrenholdt‘s The Family Dinner were my guideposts. My cheerleaders.

A year later, disenchanted with the American food system (with particular regard to its meat supply), I was all about vegetarian cuisine and Mark Bittman‘s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian and Mollie Katzen‘s The Moosewood Cookbook took up permanent residence in my collection. (Her divine recipe for pita bread is worth finding a copy of your own). And then, cookbook/memoirs took center stage in my cookbook repertoire, and I was convinced that life would be perfect if all cookbooks were written the way that Shauna Niequist‘s Bread & Wine and Louisa Weiss’s My Berlin Kitchen were written.

This year, finally in a kitchen of my very own, and backed with an arsenal of family friendly, environmentally sound, healthy and delicious recipes (that were sure to create a sense of belonging for my little brood), I headed into my kitchen with confidence and my copy of Alana Chernila‘s The Homemade Pantry. If I could make it myself, I was going to. Bring on the memory making.

Before long, the books sat on the kitchen bookshelf, unused. The kitchen was quiet, and I sat idly by. Perceptive little Mia caught me gazing longingly at them during dinner one night. She asked what I was looking at, which snapped me out of my little reverie and made me realize just how much I missed pulling up a chair at someone else’s table, to be inspired by their stories instead of just by their recipes. I didn’t really do that anymore.

Dietary changes made it too painful to thumb through the pages of these books. The recipes reminded me of a time when thinking about eating healthy meant balancing food groups, limiting the bad stuff, going organic and non-GMO. Now, eating healthy meant eating so I didn’t feel like I was dying.

If last year’s theme of my kitchen life was the nostalgic joy of cooking, this year’s theme so far has largely been get me through this meal unscathed. Luckily, for me, it wasn’t really hard to figure out how to cook a meal without any grains in it (Grill some chicken. Steam some veggies. Done.)

The problem is cooking food like that is not my idea of fun–and you know me: I love to cook! And plus, I am so over reading about how and why to cut grains out of the diet. The majority of cookbooks I have read lately devote so much time and energy on explaining the perils of wheat and corn and soy and even rice (among so many others), and spend so very little time on the story behind the food they are promoting as healthy, let alone the story behind the recipes themselves.

For me, cookbooks are not so much about learning how to cook, but more about why to cook. Reading them is like peeking into the food life of other people, people who have gone, seen and learned things that I have not. Getting cozied up on the couch with one is not about making a list of ingredients and techniques to master; it’s about steeping myself in another person’s story, imagining the tastes and smells and experiences of another place and perspective for a moment, connecting to the heart of why they cook and being inspired to continue to refine the cooking culture here in our own kitchen.

If you have not figured it out by now, let me drive the point home: for me, cooking much more than prepping fuel to feed our bodies. It is feeding our spirits and nourishing our souls and creating a way of life within our home, knitting together bits and pieces of our collective pasts with the here and now of where we are as a family. It is celebrating heritage and creating a sense of belonging. It is hard to find a gluten-free cookbook (or grain-free one, for that matter) written from that perspective.

I had the loveliest conversation with my dad earlier this week. We were in the midst of running a not-so-fun errand and we found ourselves exchanging gluten-free/grain-free recipes. Ever the cook, he’s been low-carb for years and is always happy to share his recipes for some really yummy foods. I heard all about his lasagna-like casserole (where kale takes the stage), and I told him about my version of Greek chicken-lemon soup (where cauliflower works its cameleon magic). We talked about ingredients and methods, certainly, and also about how delicious the food was and how we really didn’t miss the grains at all. It was nice to share stories with someone who gets it, you know?

Embracing the gluten-free/grain-free way of eating in my own home and filling in my family on the why’s and how’s of why we’re eating differently feels funny enough, but talking about food and cooking with people who aren’t gluten-free or grain-free is even harder. (What do you eat? What do you cook? Is it hard?) So many casual conversations don’t have the room for a genuine answer. Thank God for the handful of people who have come alongside me this week- my dad and two of my dearest friends in the world (both of whom I rarely see–both in the same week!) to ask these questions and to listen to the real answer.

The real answer is Yes, it’s hard, and also No, it’s not hard at all. It is hard to give up the idea and the sentiment of the foods I used to eat. It is not hard to eat differently, especially when the food tastes as good as it does. Yes, it is hard to want to eat anything when you feel like you are dying, and no, it is not hard to not eat the things that make the pain worse.

It has been a week of talking these things out with people who care about me, about us. Talking about the things that are true and good and hard and important. Sharing meals, meager or strange as they may seem. Reliving old memories and being inspired to reinvent old recipes. Creating new memories that inspire new recipes.

I guess this week I learned that my life is a living cookbook, the one I have been looking for.

Love,
Scratch

Greek Chicken-Lemon Soup

adapted from Dinner: A Love Story‘s Avgolemeno

It may not look like much, but this recipe is proof that it is possible to cook delicious and satisfying food without grains. A favorite of Joey’s, Avgolemeno is typically made with orzo or rice, but my version uses riced cauliflower. Before you freak out, think about this: both my 3 1/2 year old and my 2 year old devoured it. I call that a success.

Ingredients:

4 cups gluten free chicken broth
10 oz. cauliflower
1 small onion
1 T butter (or ghee or olive oil or, or, or….)
4 large eggs
1/4 c lemon juice
1 1/2 c cooked and shredded chicken
salt & pepper, to taste

Method:

First, make sure you have pre-cooked chicken to work with. Leftover roast chicken works well here, or just throw a chicken breast or two in the crock pot for a couple hours. When done, shred the chicken and set aside a cup and a half for the soup. Or more, or less. Whatever you like.

Next, prep the cauliflower. You could use a cheese grater to “rice” the cauliflower (more time; courser texter), but I use a food processor (less time, finer texture). If you use a food processor, throw the onion in with the cauliflower to process in one easy step. If you don’t use a food processor, chop the onion finely after you finish preparing the cauliflower.

In a soup pot over medium high heat, add the butter (or other fat) and the cauliflower & onion. Sautee for a few minutes – about five or so – until the veggies are fairly soft. Add the broth and bring to a boil. Lower heat to a bare simmer (low heat).

Meanwhile, whisk together the eggs and the lemon juice. Then, ladle in a scoop of the simmering broth and whisk to combine. Then, pour back into the soup pot, whisking as you do so. The broth will turn opaque. Add the chicken and let the soup simmer for about 4 minutes to allow the eggy broth to cook. Add the salt and pepper to taste, adjusting as needed, and serve. Sprinkle dill on if you so desire.

Oh yeah, and DO NOT BOIL unless you want a curdled mess.

A Little Bit of Love and No Bake Chocolate Chip Cookies

Leave a comment June 14, 2014 Rachel Maier

“In the twilight of our lives, we will be judged on how we have loved.” — St. John of the Cross

Dear Joey,

Love is on my mind. It invades my thoughts and my motivations and plans and dreams lately. This is probably because Addie has been singing “A little bit of love goes a long, long way…” over and over and over again. I have heard it dozens and dozens of times over the past five months, and I am weary of them, but wouldn’t you know it: the girl’s free spirited singing etched those words into my heart, and now, they convict me when selfishness invades.

And invade it does. Let’s be honest: my first thought after breakfast revolves around my own agenda, well-meaning as it may be, and certainly does not revolve around which princess has been captured by the blue monster today, or what gown I will put on so I am ready to rock out to princess music on Pandora. My first thoughts are How will I manage to get these dishes washed before someone comes begging for me to play with her? Or I should have done a meal plan for this week because I have no idea what to thaw for dinner tonight. Or even, I wonder if they’ll notice if I slip away to go use the bathroom? This is the sneaky sort of selfishness and most of the time I don’t see it for what it really is. Selfishness distorts truth and gets in the way of loving well.

The truth is, most of the time I do not really want to play dollies–especially when there is an email I would rather write, or a book I would rather read or a recipe I would rather try or a shower I would rather take. Why can’t the girls just play together? I wonder. Why do they always need me? I get frustrated and am tempted to resent these cute little faces innocently seeking a little bit of attention. Lately, in these moments of weakness, I hear Addie’s little voice singing her heart out to her favorite preschool song and I remember that little bit of love really does go a long, long way.

And so I am choosing to engage with them and figure out a way to make whatever is important to them fun. Of course, I am not very good at this, and some days are better than others, but I am realizing that giving them small acts of love throughout the day builds up credibility with me (doesn’t it?). If I say I love them, do I make good on my word by show them this love in a way they can understand? Washing dishes and thawing chicken does not speak to their hearts. Building LEGO castles and dancing in the kitchen and singing at the top of our lungs in the car; letting them dress me up and pinning princess capes onto their shirts; having tea parties (real and imaginary); wrapping dollies up in blankets and putting them to bed over and over and over – all of it speaks one thing to them: Mommy loves you.

If I am not able to love them well now while they are young, what are the chances I will get a chance to do so later, when they are older? If I cannot lay aside myself for them—the most important things God has ever entrusted me with—do I really think He will entrust me with much else? Plus, what kind of love am I modeling for them? Do I want my actions to teach them that love is selfish, when really, the opposite is true (1 Corinthians 13:5)? If I want them to believe the truth that “Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends,” shouldn’t also love them that way (John 15:13)?

It is a part of my faith that I am still working out – saying no to selfishness and saying yes to loving well. Clearing weeds and digging up roots and nurturing new love-seeds to grow in the fertile soil of a pure heart a so that my actions are motivated by love for others, not by love of self.

No small task. It is tough. But Addie’s little voice skipping through the house reminding me that “A little bit of love goes a long, long way” is helping. Isn’t it worth the work?

Love,
Scratch

No Bake Chocolate Chip Cookies (GF/DF/optional NF)

(Gluten-free, grain-free, nut-free; Modified from A Dash of Compassion’s Nut-Free Cookie Dough Balls)

My girls love having post-nap tea parties, especially when they get a sweet treat. Giving up grains for awhile (wheat, rice, corn) renders our house fairly free of cookie making supplies, and I am still learning how to make a truly delicious grain and nut free cookie (sometimes, honestly, they are just plain no good.). But these No Bake Cookies save the day for tea time: they are not only quick and easy, they are also versatile and very forgiving. If you wouldd rather use almond butter in place of sunflower seed butter, do it! If coconut flakes make you cringe, use rolled oats like the original recipe. If you could not imagine ever having tapioca flour on hand (which I do not blame you for. Neither did I until recently.), then try something else you do have on hand (like all-purpose flour) until you work up the courage to seek out said tapioca flour (which you should. Be brave.)

Ingredients:

1/2 cup sunflower seed butter (or almond butter, or peanut butter, or …)
3 T pure maple syrup
1/4 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup tapioca flour
2 T flax seed meal
1/4 cup toasted coconut flakes or shredded coconut
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
pinch of sea salt
Chocolate chips, as desired

Method:

Mix wet ingredients. Add dry ingredients (except for chocolate chips) and mix well. Sprinkle in desired amount of chocolate chips.

Form into balls. I use a 1 1/2″ ice cream scoop (which I love) so that all I have to do is scoop – no messy ball making for me. (Plus, the scoops end up looking more like cookies than balls of dough – which I like.) The cookies are firm enough to eat right away, but may be stored in a covered container in the refrigerator (or freezer) until ready to eat.