The Hunger Games

There are some days, that despite my best efforts, Grace will eat absolutely nothing.  Not a nip of nut butter, not a sip of smoothie, not a dip of dal.  This blows my mind.  I can not remember the last time I went past
8 a.m. without eating.
I never skip breakfast. Ever.
The people who do seem like aliens to me.  Your body has just spent a long 8 hours completely trying to rejuvenate itself and you're not hungry?  How can that be?
Anyway, I boringly digress and I am getting off subject.

I know right away when a day for Grace is going to become "A Day Without Food".  It starts with the first morsel I hand her.
She jerks her head away like I am trying to feed her the most foul smelling thing in the world.
She furrows her brow and looks at me like I should know better.
I try again and she and yells, "NO!"
No means, no.  Right?
So I wait her out.
Then 15 minutes later I try again.
"NO!"
Sigh.
"Grace, you have to eat."
"NO!!"
And she doesn't.
Not for the entire day.
Not even caving to my multiple offerings of Goldfish crackers, Swiss cheese, apple slices, graham crackers, grape tomatoes, and dates.
           

I just try to relax and tell myself she will eat when she is hungry.

But how is she NOT hungry?

Yesterday was a non-food ingesting day.  At lunch, I tried to trick her with one of her favorite foods: cinnamon scented rice.  When she refused to eat even that, I broke down and sprinkled it with some brown sugar.  She stood firm, lips pursed together, head shaking violently from side to side.
"NO!"

Last night, as I stood over the cutting board dicing up turnips, carrots and sweet potato I felt defeated.
I placed the vegetables in my dutch oven, drizzled them with olive oil and placed them in the oven to roast.
Their earthy aroma only reminded me that my sweet, daughter had consumed nothing all day.

How could she not be hungry?

An hour later, I took the dutch oven out of the oven and set it on the stove top.
I dusted the golden, roasted vegetables with curry powder, ground coriander and salt and pepper.
I slowly streamed in cream and watched as the curry powder turned the entire dish into a beautiful Dreamsicle-orange swirl.
I turned the heat on low and covered the pot.

Grace walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a diaper and her new Elmo slippers, her belly stuck out like a Buddha.
"Hi, Mama!"
"Hey, Tater Tot!  Are you hungry?"
"No!" she yelled as she bolted from the kitchen.
I hung my head in defeat as the blur of  Elmo Red rounded the corner and ran down the hall.

How could she not be hungry?

I took her leftover cinnamon scented rice, which was still sweet from the desperate sprinkle of brown sugar I had added to it earlier, and heated it through.
I opened the lid to my dutch oven, letting the warm aromas of curry permeate the air.  I sprinkled a little garam masala on top of the whole thing and gave it one last stir.
I spooned the curried vegetables over the top of the cinnamon and sugar rice and sat down with Jim at the table.

Eating together as a family is something we prioritize.  It gives us time to reconnect and slow down but last night, when Jim asked if I wanted him to get Grace and put her in her high chair, I just shook my head.
"It's one of those days." I told him.
"Ah." he replied.
(We've been down this road before.)

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I  felt a small tug on the back of my shirt.
I looked back and saw Grace smiling broadly behind me.
"Hi, Mama!  Eat?!" she exclaimed.

I lifted her into my lap and held my breath as her chubby hand enclosed around my fork.  I felt suspended in time as she raised a hefty bite of curried sweet potato into her mouth.
As she chewed and babbled and greedily dug into the food on my plate,  I kissed the top of her head and breathed in the sweet smell of victory.

"Yes, Baby.  Mama eat.  And you eat, too"

After all, how could she not be hungry?

Breakfast of Champions!

We have been basking in the glow of an Indian summer for much longer than anyone anticipated, but yesterday fall decided to put it's foot down.  It was cold, gray and drizzly all day long.  It was the kind of day that makes everyone feel tired and kind of melancholy.  The cold air started to find it's way into our old drafty house and we piled under blankets as long as we could, but when the sun finally set, we decided to turn the heat on for the first time this year.

I love the smells that come from the heater when it is first turned on.  Jim tells me it is old dust from the heating ducts getting blown all around, but I don't care.  To me, it smells like the start of a new season and it makes me feel cozy and happy and warm.

However, despite the heater being on all night, the extra quilt on our bed and me wearing a sweat shirt and pants to bed, it still felt cold this morning when it was time to get up.  I wanted to stay under the covers where it was nice and warm but Grace had other plans.  She wanted to get up and watch Elmo and eat her breakfast. 

Normally, Grace and I opt for something sweet for breakfast.  Oatmeal, pancakes and smoothies are our top three favorite things.  This morning, however, I wasn't wanting sweet.  I craved something savory.  I wanted a cup of left over cream of tomato and basil flower soup. 

I know, I know.  Soup for breakfast?  Is that legal?  

Truth be told, I am not sure why people don't eat it for breakfast more often.  It's super fast to heat up and if you toast up a few slices of bread (it was sesame encrusted semolina for us this morning!) it really hits the spot!

Plus, we eat it served it tiny tea cups atop of saucers to make us feel extra fancy.

Grace thought it was almost as cool as the day I let her eat chocolate chip cookies for lunch in the living room.

                                                   

Ok, maybe not quite that cool.

Cream of Tomato Soup

2-14 oz cans San Marzano Whole Stewed Tomatoes

3 Tb olive oil

4 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1-12 oz can evaporated milk

5 large basil leaves, roughly chopped

salt and pepper

basil flowers for garnish

-In a large soup pot heat the olive oil.

Add the thinly sliced garlic cloves and basil and cook until garlic and basil are fragrant; about 30 seconds.

Add the canned tomatoes along with their juices plus one can of water.

Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to a simmer. 

Let simmer 40 minutes, uncovered.

(Every once in awhile give it a stir and crush the tomatoes with the back of a wooden spoon.)

Put hot soup in a blender and whiz it up until smooth.

Pour soup back into the pot and add the evaporated milk.  

Heat through without boiling and season with salt and pepper.

Garnish with basil flowers. 

One Magnificent Manifesto

Every once in a awhile you will stumble across something that screams, "YES! This is what I have been searching for!  This is who I am and whom I am striving to become! This is what I believe in my soul to be true."
It will pop up in the darndest of places, but when you find that gem, you will immediately want to share it with everyone you know.

You want to hang it from your fridge and make copies of it to stuff into your holiday greeting cards.

You want to shout it from the rooftops.

I happened to find this while I was using the bathroom at the small school my daughter attends.  I sat peeing on the commode, (too much info perhaps, but true, so get over it) and it caught my eye: a medium sized, nothing special, red bag with this beautiful manifesto written on it.
I read it.
Then I reread it.
Then I washed my hands, grabbed the bag, marched out of the bathroom and demanded to know, "Whose is this and where did you get it?"
To which my friend casually replied, "It's mine.  It came with some yoga gear I purchased awhile back at Lululemon."
I had never heard of Lululemon, but as soon as I got home I googled them.
After perusing their website I came to the conclusion that I love their stuff but I love their manifesto even more.   So much, in fact, I am going to share it with you...whoever you may be.

Breathe this in.  Read it once and read it again.  It's really, really good stuff.

the lululemon manifesto

• Drink FRESH water and as much water as you can. Water flushes unwanted toxins from your body and keeps your brain sharp.
• A daily hit of athletic-induced endorphins gives you the power to make better decisions, helps you be at peace with yourself, and offsets stress.
• Do one thing a day that scares you.
• Listen, listen, listen, and then ask strategic questions.
• Write down your short and long-term GOALS four times a year. Two personal, two business and two health goals for the next 1, 5 and 10 years. Goal setting triggers your subconscious computer.
• Life is full of setbacks. Success is determined by how you handle setbacks.
• Your outlook on life is a direct reflection of how much you like yourself.
• That which matters the most should never give way to that which matters the least.
• Stress is related to 99% of all illness.
• Jealousy works the opposite way you want it to.
• The world is changing at such a rapid rate that waiting to implement changes will leave you 2 steps behind. DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW!
• Friends are more important than money.
• Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment. Living in the moment could be the meaning of life.
• Take various vitamins. You never know what small mineral can eliminate the bottleneck to everlasting health.
• Don't trust that an old age pension will be sufficient.
• Visualize your eventual demise. It can have an amazing effect on how you live for the moment.
• The conscious brain can only hold one thought at a time. Choose a positive thought.
• Live near the ocean and inhale the pure salt air that flows over the water, Vancouver will do nicely.
• Observe a plant before and after watering and relate these benefits to your body and brain.
• Practice yoga so you can remain active in physical sports as you age.
• Dance, sing, floss and travel.
• Children are the orgasm of life. Just like you did not know what an orgasm was before you had one, nature does not let you know how great children are until you have them.
• Successful people replace the words 'wish', 'should' and 'try', with 'I will'.
• Creativity is maximized when you're living in the moment.
• Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocre is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.
• lululemon athletica creates components for people to live longer, healthier and more fun lives. If we can produce products to keep people active and stress-free, we believe the world will become a much better place.
• Do not use cleaning chemicals on your kitchen counters. Someone will inevitably make a sandwich on your counter.
• SWEAT once a day to regenerate your skin.
• Communication is COMPLICATED. We are all raised in a different family with slightly different definitions of every word. An agreement is an agreement only if each party knows the conditions for satisfaction and a time is set for satisfaction to occur.
• What we do to the earth we do to ourselves.
• The pursuit of happiness is the source of all unhappiness.

Yep.  Yep.  Yep.
Couldn't have said it better myself.

Out of Whack

Things in our home have been a little out of balance lately.  I wish that it was a problem that could be fixed by guzzling a V8.  One sip and suddenly we are standing up straight and back to normal.  Sadly, this is not the case.
Grace has had an ongoing inner ear infection for over a month and it turned us upside down.  Four antibiotics and 3 homeopathic remedies later, I think we have it licked. The actual infection might be gone but the aftereffects are still resonating loudly within the walls of our home. After all, having a sick baby means having a clingy baby.

Dinners were spent with Grace sitting on my lap stabbing at my food with her Dora fork.
I cleaned the house with her balanced on one jutted out hip.
I skipped days in between showers.
Mornings were spent rocking and cuddling and being sucked on. So were afternoons and evenings.
Jim and I walked like zombies through our days because up until 3 nights ago, Grace was sprawling out between us in our bed.  While she snored and slept in the heavy sleep that only can be achieved with sickness, Jim and I teetered on the edges of the mattress, lying awake most of the night awaiting kicks to the ribs, the neck, the face and (in Jim's case) the groin.

She is better now but we are still recovering.  We are cranky with one another.  My back hurts constantly and Jim is trying to catch up on his studying and  his sleep.  Grace toddles between the two of us, hugging our legs and kissing our knees.  She makes it all worth it.

But my back still hurts.  A lot.

Mother's are guilty of one thing: not doing enough for themselves.  We cook what other people like to eat.  We give up the last piece of pie so someone else can have it.  We let our roots grow out and dismiss that pedicure as a guilty pleasure.
We rarely go out with girlfriends and if we do, we order the lo mien instead of our favorite, spicy kung pao because the leftovers will make a good lunch for a hungry child the next day.
We quit doing the things we once loved because, for the first time, we love someone more than we love ourselves.
Being a mom is the hardest job in the universe.  People who say differently are fools.  I laugh at them.  I laugh right in their faces and then I flip them off. I have no room for those people in my life.

So instead of doing the dishes when I am done writing this, I am going straight to my yoga mat and letting the world slip away.  Grace will be up soon from her nap and I only have so much time to Downward Dog myself back to normal.  Then, after that, I am scheduling a massage.


Namaste to me and to all of you other mommies out there.
I salute you.

Come! Eat!

I often joke that in another lifetime I was a plump, short, Italian, grandma.

Yep.  That's me with the laptop.

The reason I say this is that I feel most peaceful in the kitchen, making food for the ones that I love.  I have a love affair with pasta, bread, cheese, wine and olive oil that, in reality, is quite unhealthy. I can eat an entire loaf of homemade bread in one setting. I don't know whether this is a talent I should be ashamed of or not.   It's more of an addiction, really.  Not a talent. Or maybe it's a bit of both.
Some of the worst fights between Jim and I have been fueled by him critiquing a dish that I have spent hours making for him.  Sometimes, he will say, "This is good but you know what would make it better?"  A death stare from across the table and he will stutter out a quick, "Absolutely, nothing!  This is great!" Sometimes he will be brave and reach for the salt shaker, but most of the time?  Not so much.

Last night, because Grace is still feeling icky and because I can think of nothing more comforting than soup and bread, I decided to pamper her the best way I know how: I fed her.

It's no secret that Grace likes bread.

It was almost dinner time here when I had the crazy notion that warm, homemade bread might make my little Tater Tot feel a bit better.  Seeing as it getting late, time was not on my side. Plus, I had no yeast.

How annoying. 

I know it was on my shopping list. 

It must have fallen through the slates of my shopping cart on Monday.  

Yep, that's what must have happened.

I wouldn't have just forgotten it. 

It was clearly written on my list, after all.

No yeast and no time makes making homemade bread kind of impossible.  Unless, of course, you are a reincarnated Italian Nona who knows a thing or two about the magic of olive oil!  

Have you ever heard of olive oil bread?  No?  Roll up your sleeves and I'll show you how it's done.

Here is what you need:

3 cups flour

1 tsp salt (preferably coarse sea salt)

1 Tb baking powder

1/3 cup good quality olive oil, plus more for greasing pan. (Good oil is essential for this recipe.  Your bread is being flavored solely from the oil so use one you really, really love!)

1 C warm water

herbs of choice 

Here is what you do:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Grease an 8 inch cast iron skillet with olive oil and set aside.

In a food processor or standard kitchen mixer combine flour, salt and baking powder.

With the motor still running, slowly drizzle in olive oil.

Add 1 Tb fresh herbs or 1 tsp dried.

(I used rosemary but basil or thyme would be lovely, also)

Mix for about 30 seconds then, without turning the mixer off,  add 3/4 of your cup of warm water. 

You should end up with a moist ball of dough.  If it looks a little dry add the remaining water 1 Tb at a time.

Press the dough into the oiled skillet, making certain to spread it out as evenly as possible.  

Now, flip the dough over so the oiled side is up.  The dough should fit into the skillet but use this opportunity to make sure there are no gaps on the side.

Cover the skillet with foil and bake for about 20 minutes.

Take the bread out of the oven, remove foil and sprinkle with coarse salt.

Bake for 20 minutes more, uncovered.

Remove the bread from the oven and let sit for 5 minutes before slicing.  I like to cut mine like pie.  

What you will end up with is a biscuit-like bread that pairs amazingly well with leftover soup or pasta.
Drizzle it with more olive oil or slather it with butter.  It's good either way.

The best part?
If you have leftovers, (what are those?) let then sit on the counter overnight.  They will harden up and turn into "scones". In the morning, spread them with gooey jam or honey for a quick breakfast.  

Manga!

Nona Lana
XOXO

Don't It Always Seem To Go

The start of my fall has been full of sleepless nights, days fueled by strong coffee, and hours spent rocking a sick toddler in the rocking chair.  Snuggled under warm afghans, she and I have been enjoying the cool autumn air as it blows through our home through the open windows, and reading book, after book, after book.
Some days we do go out for a walk to the local community garden, but most afternoons, we just try and take it easy.

Cooking has given way to simple soups and bean dishes because all of my extra energy has been devoted to using my magical mommy powers to nurse her back to her normal, bouncy, self.

As she dozes in my arms, I often replace the touch and feel books she loves to look through with a book that I enjoy.  However, in my constant state of sleep deprivation, I have had a hard time finding one that can hold my interest.  So, I turn to cookbooks. I sit and read them...no, I sit and study them, for hours.  My favorites are the old ones that are bound together with a plastic coil, typed and composed entirely by little old church ladies.

As I peruse the pages and read the hand written notes in the margins, made by whoever owned these books before myself, I can't help but think: Isn't it so true that what was once old is new again? That sometimes it takes completely screwing things up to realize there was nothing wrong with them to begin with?

No longer do we want fast and easy. We want the comfort that only a homemade pie crust can bring; even better if it's made with oleo.
Suddenly, we are waking up to the fact that produce grown by locals is the better option, not only for our wallets, but for our health, too.
And those spots on my apples?  Well, Joni Mitchell sang an entire song about those.

So, while I'm not about to rub whiskey on Grace's gums to help her sleep through the night tonight, (child rearing tip #17 in the latest cookbook I have been reading--"Housekeeping in Old Virginia" copyright 1879!) I am letting her sip from a warm cup of chamomile tea, instead of doping her up with Benadryl.

Hopefully, we will all sleep better tonight and I will have the energy to be a little more productive tomorrow.

Goodnight, John Boy.
Love, Lana