Everything happens for a reason

This new year has gotten off to an eventful beginning. I ended the old year by surviving a freak car accident and kicked off 2012 by knocking around the Green Mountains waiting on new rear quarter glass to replace the one that got smashed out as a result of my 25-foot plummet over a bank. Thank you, black ice.

So far, 2012 has proven to be both eventful and productive. I've managed to finalize the print version of “Conscious Shopping” (yay)' re-organize my mother's kitchen (she's thrilled—just ask her); and treat myself to a couple of tragus piercings 

The latter lead to much grammatical pondering as I now have a ring in each tragus and I spent an unusual amount of time wondering about the plural form. Tragi? Traguses? Or is it like the plural form of status, which is spelled like “status” but pronounced with a long 'a' and 'u'? Depending on which dictionary you look in, that is. Merriam-Webster says it's “statuses” and OED lists the aforementioned status as being the correct plural form. So I'm back to Square One when it comes to more than one tragus. Whatever. They're both Bedazzled.

New Year's Lesson No.1? Live in the moment.

Comfort Food

All this in-the-moment living and grammar-obsessiveness puts me in mind of comfort food. After all, part of achieving balance is knowing when to take care of oneself. In a Vermont winter's snowstorm, all I want is soup. Warm, nourishing and hearty soup—and this is Kale & White Bean Soup is one of my favorites. 

Kale & White Bean Soup

Ingredients:
Olive oil
2 links sweet Italian sausage
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves of garlic, 3 minced, 1 smashed
1 T fresh thyme
2 cans of white beans (rinsed and drained), divided
6 cups of stock (chicken or vegetable)
3 medium potatoes, cubed
4 C kale, stemmed and chopped
1 tsp sea salt
Freshly cracked pepper, to taste

Instructions:

To cook sausage, place in a skillet with 4 tablespoons of water over medium heat. Cover the pan and cook for 10 minutes. Turn the sausage and continue to cook, uncovered, for another 25 minutes or until golden brown.

In a large pot, saute onions and the three minced cloves of garlic in olive oil until the onions begin to soften (about five minutes). Add the fresh thyme and continue cooking for one minute (note: if you don't have fresh thyme, you can substitute one teaspoon of dried thyme). Reserve 1/2 cup of white beans and add the remaining beans to the pot along with the stock and potatoes. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are soft (about 20 minutes).

Meanwhile, place the reserved beans, 3 T olive oil and smashed garlic in a blender or food processer and puree until smooth, then add to soup.

Halve the cooked sausage and slice in 1/2-inch slices. Add to the soup and let it continue to simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

Saute the kale in olive oil until it turns bright green, then stir it into the soup and serve.

Makes 8 servings.

Note: This delicious soup converts easily to vegetarian by using vegetable stock and eliminating the sausage.

Of course, I asked the age-old questions about how long division could possibly be relevant once I achieved adulthood. Mom's pat response was that I would need all matter of number magic in order to cope with grown-up activities like balancing my checkbook and shopping for food.

Now, thanks to her vigilant tutelage, I can instantaneously calculate the price per potato in a five pound bag of Idahos with savant-like precision. Well, not really, but she reads this blog, so yes, I can. For years I played the diligent shopper and like so many of us, I “did the math” when I was out shopping, ever in search of the Better Buy.

It's a Trap

At a certain point, however, my Virgo logic kicked in and I started questioning the Better Buy myth. Every time I threw away that second head of lettuce from a BOGO deal or had to make yet another loaf of banana bread from the bananas I didn't get to, I had to wonder. Was I doing something wrong? I mean, I was clipping coupons like crazy and I was even pretty sure I could spot one of those better buy deals across three aisles. Something wasn't quite right…

Then one day, as I was throwing away the half a loaf of banana bread I never got around to eating—made from half a bunch of bananas I never got around to eating—I had a stunning revelation:

If I'm throwing it away, it isn't a better buy–no matter how good a deal I got.

Voilà! Wasted food is wasted cash any way you look at it.

(Price) Point to Ponder

So here's a hypothetical for you. Kind of a word problem, except I'm doing the math so you won't have to. You can thank me later. 

Let's say you need two pears for a simple dessert recipe. You go to the store and find that organic pears are 89¢ each. Or you can pick up a bag of five commercially grown pears for $3.49. Which option is the best choice?

Here is where we get tripped up. The commercially grown pears may seem like the better buy at about 20¢ less per pear, but are they really? Let's put aside the chemicals and pesticides for a minute (Honestly, don't we already know that we shouldn't be putting that crap into our bodies anyway?) and do the real math.

You only need two pears. If you buy five, the chances are pretty good that three of them are going to go bad and get thrown away. Cold hard cash translation? You just threw away $2.07. That's already more than the $1.78 you would have spent on the two organic pears you needed. Not to mention, had you only bought the two organic pears over the pre-packaged, less healthy pears, you would have saved $1.71 to begin with.

Better buy schmetter buy—the simple truth is that if you put your mind to it, you can buy better food while spending (and wasting!) less money.  

I'm grateful for the Poetic License that blesses me with the ability to end a sentence with a preposition. And start sentence fragments with a conjunction. For example. 

In the Beginning

There's so much we take for granted that we fall into the trap of not appreciating what we have. So that's where I started—appreciating the basics in my life. Trust me, once you get going, keeping track of the obvious blessings gets easier by the minute. It took me a while to get into the groove, way back in the beginning of my Gratitude Journey. It was a tough year and I think my initial entry went something like this: 

I'm grateful I have a warm bed to sleep in. 

I'm happy to report that once I started paying attention, I realized  there are tons of things for which I can be grateful…

• My cool new shoes because lime green is one of my favorite colors
• The dehydrator I just inherited so I can make oodles of kale chips
• The discovery of lacinato kale so I can make even better kale chips
• Friends who stop by and bring me breakfast because my car won't start

Kicking it up a Notch

That last one gave me pause. Did I really find something to be grateful for even though my car wouldn't start that day? I almost got all proud of myself…and then the next level of practicing gratitude began to dawn on me. What if my car had started that day? I would have missed an opportunity, and so… 

I'm grateful that my car wouldn't start so I could learn to appreciate the thoughtfulness and generosity of my friends. 

Being grateful for the good things in life is essential. We need to pay attention to the things that are good/great/awesome and we need to be appreciate and grateful. But what about the things that are not so great? What about the days when the car doesn't start? When you develop a food allergy that prevents you from eating some of your favorite foods? When a freak snow storm leaves you without power for a week? When what you believed was the most important relationship in your life ends? Practicing this type of gratitude is so important—and of course, SO not easy. Believe me! But here goes…

I'm grateful for…

• Those pesky allergies to wheat and eggs, because without them I feel SO much healthier
• The freak snowstorm that left me without power for a full week, because I regained my clarity and independence—plus I get to regale my friends with tales of the time I spent in the convent. And of course, I'm grateful to the Sisters of Divine Compassion who took me in when I needed a warm bed, a hot shower and three square meals.
• For the relationship that changed my life and broke my heart because without him I would not be the person I am today—and I love who I am today.
• For my whole world falling apart because I learned the most valuable lesson of all…

I've heard that when God closes a door, He opens a window. In my case, God demolished my home and gave me world full of possibilities.

Namaste and Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. 

He says no—and so do I. 

Are we the only ones doing the math?

Frankly, I don't remember liking math too much as a kid, although these days I'm pretty sure the problem was Mrs. Lyford, my first grade teacher who was, like, a hundred, and who didn't make things like adding and subtracting seem all that compelling. I was way more interested in the real world application (like if Mikey kicks my chair one more time how many times do I have to clobber him before he cuts it out?)—a subtle foreshadowing, I suppose, of the fact that I would one day come to love the logic and dependability of numbers that add up. 

The Numbers Game

If you haven't seen Bittman's piece yet, go take a look… I'll wait for you. 

Cool. You're back. So what do you think? Is junk food really cheaper? 

According to Bittman's calculations, it would seem not so much, since “you can serve a roasted chicken with vegetables along with a simple salad and milk for about $14, and feed four or even six people”  as opposed to his example of a typical McDonald's order for a family of four that comes to about $28. 

Ah, serendipity! In the Conscious Shopping menu-planning guide, I used one of my favorite recipes—Roast Chicken with Oven-Roasted Vegetables—as the first example. 

I decided to test my recipe against Mr. Bittman's calculations. I figure if those pesky neutrinos can call Einstein's Theory of Relativity into question, I most certainly better check the math. 

Behold! The cost analysis using my recipes: 

one 5 lb. roasting chicken      $9.75 
one pound red potatoes         $1.35  
2 carrots                                    $0.50  
2 parsnips                                $1.00  
1 yellow onion                          $1.00  
celery                                         $0.70  
one apple                                 $0.70  
fresh rosemary                         $1.00 

For a total of                          $16.00

Plus olive oil, salt :& pepper and a clove of garlic which you likely already have on hand. 

My Simple Salad—aptly named in my upcoming cookbook because it requires no chopping—comes in at around $3 and consists of mixed greens, walnuts, dried cranberries, mandarin oranges tossed with a drizzle of olive oil, a spritz of apple cider vinegar with salt and pepper to taste. 

The total for this meal using my own recipes comes in at $19, which is slightly higher than Bittman's estimate, but I sprang for the all-natural, hormone-free, antibiotic-free chicken and some organic produce.

So far, so good, right?

But Wait! There's More!

My meal still comes in at $11 under the junk food meal. But one of the core components of my Conscious Shopping philosophy is not wasting food—and that chicken still has more to offer. 

Take a few moments to glean the remaining meat from the bone and use it to make a simple and tasty chicken salad. Throw in some dried cranberries (you have them on hand from your salad) and chop up some celery (you have that on hand, too) and you're halfway there. Not to mention, by taking this delicious homemade salad for lunch, you won't have to spend money on lunch. 

Haste Makes Waste

Don't be so quick to toss that carcass now that dinner's over and you're all set for tomorrow's lunch. Making chicken stock is so simple and you already have most of what you need on hand—chicken bones, the makings of mirepoix (fancy French name for the flavorful combination of celery, carrot and onion used in soups, stocks and sauces), a few herbs and seasonings… And if you're feeling really decadent, you can throw in a turnip for added flavor. Don't panic—turnips are super cheap. 

Homemade chicken stock! There's so much you can do. Make any number of soups! Use it to make rice or mashed potatoes more flavorful! Make gravies or sauces! Throw it the freezer and save it for a rainy day! 

Picture this

You made a really easy and simple, healthy and delicious meal for your family. You got creative with the leftovers (by comparison, there's not really much to do with half a leftover Big Mac and some limp fries, is there?) AND you just saved $11. 

Imagine how much more you could feed your family if you took that $11 and added it to your grocery budget. The secret of Conscious Shopping is planning your meals around a few key ingredients and making informed decisions about what you eat and how you buy it.  

So what's the verdict? Is junk food really cheaper? You do the math. 

By the way, Mrs. Lyford  wasn't actually 100 (I can count, after all), but she was also my mother's first grade teacher. And my grandmother's. Seriously. I'm so not kidding. That's small town living for you… 

“To change one's life: do it flamboyantly, do it immediately, no exceptions.”

I love the deceptive simplicity, the cocky absoluteness, the bold challenge… I try to make those flamboyant changes every day. It's not easy, but I keep at it anyway…

Making Changes

I went to a potluck picnic the other day. Generally, I like these sorts of things because I get to try out recipes from my cookbook (yes, I 'm still writing it and yes, it will be done sooner than later) on an objective and unsuspecting audience.
     So I wanted to know what to bring, expecting to be asked for some kind of salad or vegetarian main dish (I make a mean vegetarian lasagna). Nope. “Could you bring a dessert? Or maybe a beverage?”
     Dessert? Really? So not my strong suit. 

Here are some not-so-little-known facts about me: 

     * I do not have a sweet tooth (which, by the way, is a remarkably good thing not to have when wheat and eggs are unceremoniously ripped from your diet. That way there's not a lot of crying over the cakes, cookies and pies you no longer get to enjoy). 

     * I love to cook—I hate to bake. Seriously. I can't even manage a pre-packaged mix without a lot of eye-rolling and shaking my head in exasperation.  

     * The aforementioned allergies impose some serious limitations in the dessert arena. I've been advised not to even handle eggs which is a) crazy, b) inconvenient and c) absolutely true. 

     But I'm changing! Flamboyantly! Now! No exceptions! And I do so love a challenge…so off I went in search of a wheat-free, egg-free dessert that would be absolutely delicious—and I found one. 
     Brownies made without wheat and eggs—with a deliciousness guarantee, to boot. I even had all of the ingredients, which was kind of amazing and very serendipitous. I took this as a sign that it was meant to be.

I bet you think this story has a happy ending, don't you?

Well, it doesn't. 

Actually, it does, but not as far as those brownies are concerned. Who knew that a last-minute substitution would be such a game-changer? Yep, definitely a cook, but certainly not a baker. Alas, those poor brownies—delicious though they were—never quite set right and never made it to the party. That said, if you follow the directions, these brownies are absolutely fabulous and perfectly wonderful. You should try them. I, unfortunately, don't always do as I'm told.
     Did I mention I don't have a sweet tooth? I started looking through the cupboards and the fridge, determined to find something—anything—that I could whip up in a jiffy that would be acceptable to bring to a picnic. No sweet dessert-makings to be had! I'm not one to give up easily and so I kept looking…
     What did I find? Lemons. Not at all surprising for the droll girl with a wry sense of humor and no sweet tooth.
     What did I make? Only the best Homemade Sparkling Lemonade ever. Life handed the droll girl with a wry sense of humor and no sweet tooth lemons and she made lemonade. 
     Did I mention my love of irony and happy endings? Sometimes making a flamboyant change involves embracing your true nature and celebrating it—lemons and all. 

That was two months and nine days ago. 

Since then, I've not gone a full week without some kind of incident—and it takes me three days to recover every time…for the swelling to go down, for my stomach to settle. It's kind of a bitch. In the weeks before I was able to identify the culprit, I didn't know from one meal to the next what I could or could not eat. One eye would swell or one side of my mouth. Or both. Some days I didn't leave the house because I looked like I just stepped out of a boxing ring. Then one evening, I was home by myself when my throat started to swell and close up. I've never been so scared in my life. 

Well, except for being chased by three Alaskan brown bears that time, but that's a story for another day.

For the next two weeks, I kept a detailed food diary. I wrote down everything I ate, what time I ate it, what kind of reaction I had, if any, and when. It didn't take too long for me to figure out that eggs were at the root of the problem, with wheat not too far behind. I took my findings to my doctor—who is also an allergist. I walked in with a small binder containing all the information I'd gathered. He wasn't the least bit interested. Instead, he insisted on doing a scratch test. “How else are we going to know what you're allergic to?” 

I resisted. After all, I'd already solved the puzzle. I just wanted confirmation and maybe some advice, and—as I tried to point out to the illustrious doctor—it was just annoying, not like it was life-threatening or anything…

I don't like doctors—and even more than that, I don't like being wrong. He raised a you've-got-to-be-kidding eyebrow. It absolutely could be. He came out and said it. Just like that. It absolutely could be.

I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that in that moment my blood ran cold. 

Fast Forward

So it's been a month or so since my allergy test. I'm allergic to wheat and eggs—which I knew. Really allergic—which I did not know until my throat began to swell on my way home from the doctor's office. The miniscule amount of egg proteins pricked into my skin for the test was enough to spark a much more severe reaction than the simple skin eruption it was meant to.

That means there's much more to this than simply giving up eggs over easy with whole wheat toast (Goodbye, Favorite Breakfast—I'll miss you…). I have to be so careful now about everything I eat. As much as I read labels before two months and nine days ago, now it's absolutely necessary. I have to read every label every time and I have to know words like albumin, ovoglobulin and vitellin. 

I was telling my friend, Andrea, about my food allergy dilemma and her immediate reaction was a hearty, “Thank God you're you!” 

The realization clicked inside me like some kind of spiritual~emotional Transformer. Click click click click click. 

How grateful I am to be me. I'm grateful that I knew  it was a food allergy right away, that I knew how to keep a food diary to narrow down the possibilities. I'm grateful that I know how to do an elimination diet, to read labels, to research other names for egg derivatives. I'm grateful that my diet is already filled with whole, organic foods…fresh, local foods. And I'm grateful to be ahead of the game, because I am me.

Which is not to say I'm above the occasional meltdown, but that's another story for another day.

For ages now I've been getting my eggs from any of several farms up the road. Sometimes they're so fresh, I have to wait for them to get cleaned off. Oh, and those half-billion eggs recalled last August? Didn't bat an eye. Not even when my beloved came home in a panic. “Don't worry,” I told him. “We're safe. Come on, I'll take you to visit the hens who laid those eggs you had over easy this morning.”

 He was relieved. I was…let's just say it—a little smug. 

FFFFFFTT!

The Universe just sent a curve ball whizzing past my head. 

I've never made any secret of my love for eggs. Not just from those happy, free-wandering chickens—all eggs: quail eggs, duck eggs—even one very impressive ostrich egg. Freakin' yum.

Can delicious irony rival a perfectly poached duck egg nestled atop creamy corn grits and a side of sautéed kale and red onions? If it can, then here it is… albeit served up cold.

All of a sudden and out of the proverbial blue, I'm allergic to eggs.

FFFFFFTT!

Didn't I have a wheat thing? Didn't I just give up toast?

Does it matter that I buy wheat flour that is locally grown and milled or that my eggs come from the farmer up the road?

No, says my new friend, Ana Phylaxis. 

Great. Now what?

Wasted Food = Wasted $

So let's talk about your refrigerator. When's the last time you took a look to see what's really in there? When it comes to wasting food—which translates to wasting your hard-earned cash—forgotten items in the fridge are a key culprit. One easy way to save money is simply to take a quick inventory of what's in your refrigerator before you head to the grocery store. See what you have on hand and figure out how you can use it. Plus, there's the added benefit of knowing beforehand what you're out of instead of making an unhappy discovery mid-recipe. 

Mostly, I check the fridge to see what's in there before I do my shopping for the week. Then again, sometimes I don't—which is what led to a recent stockpile of cucumbers, carrots and parsnips. See? Not perfect and perfectly happy.

Treasury of Soups

Let me just tell you how I feel about cucumbers. I love, love, love them. Peeled and sliced on a plate, in a salad or pickled in any way…I'm absolutely mad for them. But of my favorite concoctions is in a lovely green gazpacho featuring cucumber, mint and a hint of poblano. Now that the days are getting hot, Cucumber Mint Gazpacho is one very cool, refreshing and very easy-to-prepare soup. 

I also happen to love soup. My mother tells me that when I was little, I always wanted soup for breakfast. Why not? I still do. And lunch. And supper. 

So armed with a bunch of carrots, some locally grown parsnips and a few other goodies, I put on my [imaginary] chef's hat and went to work The result? Oven-Roasted Carrot and Parsnip Bisque. 

Moral of the Story

No food went to waste. The money I didn't spend on things I already had went toward fresh produce from the farmer's market—not to mention I had plenty of room for it in my newly cleaned out fridge. AND I made two simple and delicious soups to nourish me throughout the week! 

Give it a shot for yourself and be sure to let me know how it turns out…

Sure doesn't feel like the end of the world to me.

Maybe it's because I lived through a year of terror in 1976. For my classmates and the whole rest of the country, it was the Bicentennial and they were all celebrating 200 years of independence. I was ten that summer. While my friends were enjoying picnics and parades and the Freedom Train, I was too busy waiting for the End of the World that my mother's cult-oriented religious leanings of the moment had predicted. I was also forced to give up my favorite breakfast cereal, because Cheerios made the mistake of decorating their Bicentennial commemorative boxes with a graphic element that involved three vertical '76s in succession resulting in an unfortunate 777 atop that Number of the Beast, 666. No amount of coaxing could convince my mother that Cheerios had not, in fact, become the Breakfast of Satan. Great. Delicious whole-grain oats for him—none for me.

Satan may have won the Battle of the Cheerios, but I figured I was one up on him, because as 1977 rolled around, my world was still intact, even if it was curiously devoid of a certain General Mills breakfast cereal.

I also learned to question authority. After all, the notion of respecting my elders had been drummed into my head and they all told me the world would end and there would be lots of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. So I asked lots of questions. For which I got in lots of trouble—of course—but I needed an answer. For  the life of me, I couldn't understand why the earth was still spinning and orbiting, unperturbed by the ravings of the End Times I'd been clobbered with for a full year. The questions I dared ask were answered most unsatisfactorily.

“We made a mistake. We didn't add right. The world will end in 1982.”

Really? I got a B in math one marking period and got grounded. How is being a little lazy in the long-division department on par with getting the End of the World wrong? That's not fair and I said so.

This was not a good argument, I discovered, for why I only got a B in math. Plus I learned, “Life's not fair” as every grownup in my life was wont to tell me whenever I attempted to communicate my opinion on the subject.

Well, the world did not end in 1982 as I'm sure you're aware. I counted it as a win-win for me because not only had I not been banished to oblivion or worse, left behind to writhe in unimaginable suffering, I  got really good grades that year and Satan was nowhere to be found since he pretty much stopped bothering me after he swiped my Cheerios.

Not to mention, my mother was over the whole cult thing by then and had decided that the Pentecostal Church was a much saner spiritual path. Me? I wasn't digging the whole Holy Roller thing so much and said so, figuring I was entitled to an opinion since I had, after all, single-handedly survived not one, but two World's Ends.

My mother, however, did not agree with my assessment of the Pentecostal Church and thus I was sentenced to joining the church Youth Group which met on Tuesdays after school, going to services Wednesday evenings and of course, regular ol' holy-rolling church on Sundays. My propensity for questioning authority expanded. Exponentially. First, Satan came along and laid claim to my Cheerios and now God—via my mother—was taking over two-fifths of my weeknights and half my weekend. This seems harsh and unjust. Especially at 17.

Cut to New Year's Eve 1999, the Y2K scare and the mathematically-challenged monks who converted the Julian calendar. Again with the math?

Here's a word problem for your contemplation… George writes me a check for $22.47 which I deposit it into my checking account on Wednesday. On Thursday, George discovers that he didn't carry the one in a  previous transaction and the check he wrote me bounces. If my bank charges me $20 for George's returned check plus $37 for every check of mine that bounced due to George's error, WHY DO I GET CHARGED FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S MISTAKE AND HOW IS IT FAIR THAT THOSE STUPID MONKS GOT AWAY WITH THE BAD MATH THAT ONCE AGAIN INCORRECTLY PREDICTED THE END OF THE WORLD?!!?

Bonus question: If I make it to Confession before the bank closes can I get those charges reversed?

Pretty long preamble to what I have to say about this Rapture business.

I'm saddened by the fact that at this very moment, there are people preparing for an End that isn't coming.

I'm horrified that men like Family Radio's Harold Camping prey on the fears of people who are searching for answers, a direction, a spiritual path, acceptance, love, happiness.

My heart is warmed by those good-humored atheists offering post-Rapture pet-care services so that those who will be ascending can rest assured that their earth-bound pets will be lovingly looked after in their absence.

My mad mathematical skills predict that I am going to live a long and happy life right here on earth. I suspect you will, too.

Namaste.

New to the Humble Neighborhood? Here's the deal: I cook. You come and eat–and in the process you get to hang out with a bunch of really cool people. Sounds good, no?

Dinners will feature fresh, seasonal dishes and will take place on the second Saturday of each month from June through September. Here are the dates: June 11; July 16 (this is actually the third Saturday, due to a prior commitment on my part. Plus I couldn't very well call the series "Second Saturdays Unless I Have Plans and Move One to the Third Saturday in July." It loses the alliteration quality and doesn't flow as nicely); August 13; September 10. Appetizers and munchies at 6 p.m. with dinner planned for 7 p.m.

So…like I said, I'm thinking about it and I'd love your input. Take this quick survey and let me know what you think!