Summer Harvest Soup

Some people will say that it's too hot for soup.
To them, I say poo-poo.
What better time is there to make a big, ole honkin' pot of soup than in the summer?
Vegetables are at their peak, a big pot can last a week in the refrigerator, you can heat up a bowl any time of the day or night, and you can serve it with finger sandwiches and iced tea, or just top it with a hefty sprinkling pf parmesan cheese.
That, my friends, is weekday dinner made easy!

Summer is screaming, "Make soup!!" 
Can't you hear it?

Summer Harvest Soup Recipe
1 sweet potato, quartered
1 yellow squash, chopped
2 Tb olive oil
1 small red onion, chopped
1 small green or red pepper, chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
4 red potatoes, quartered
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 TB turmeric powder
1 tsp cinnamon
2 TB powdered vegetarian chicken broth base
1- 15 oz can diced tomatoes, drained
1- 15 oz can garbanzo beans, drained
1 cup sweet corn
1/2 bunch of kale, chopped
2 TB soy sauce or Bragg's Liquid Aminos
salt and pepper to taste

-Place a steamer basket into a large pot of boiling water and steam sweet potato until tender.
Once tender, remove and set aside.  Now, place the squash in the steamer basket and steam until tender.  Remove and set aside.  Place both sweet potato and squash in a food processor, and process unti smooth.
Let cool.
-Pour olive oil into dutch oven and add onion, pepper, celery, carrots, potatoes and garlic. Cook until onions start to soften, and then sprinkle with turmeric, cinnamon, and broth base. Using a wooden spoon, stir vegetables, making sure they are evenly coated with the spices, and then add the diced tomatoes and garbanzo beans.  Add enough water to cover the vegetables, and simmer for 15 minutes. 
-Add corn, kale, and Bragg's. Cook for another 15 minutes.
-Slowly stir in the pureed sweet potato and squash, season with salt and pepper,and enjoy the taste of summer in a bowl!

Love ya muchas,
Lana

Swimsuit Friendly Twice Baked Potato Boat Recipe

We're in the midst of a heat wave.  The temperature is supposed to reach 107 degrees today, and we haven't had rain since God knows when.  Our grass is crispy and brown, and we're spending a small fortune to water our tiny garden.  I keep telling myself it's all going to be worth it when I bite into that first, vine-ripened tomato, and so far, I have myself convinced...sort of.
Normally, when it is this hot outside, I refuse to turn on the oven. We spend months living off of cold dinners, because if there is anything I hate more than heat waves, it's baking during one.  I hate sweating over a flaming hot stove when it's in the triple digits outside, but yesterday, because my family has a borderline co-dependant relationship with baked potatoes, I made an exception, but not without a few modifications.
We are big baked potato lover's in our house, and yesterday morning I had an overwhelming craving for a loaded spud.  Instead of our regular loaded bp's though, I made a few small changes that made baking potatoes in hot as hell weather a task that won't leave you a sweaty mess, and won't reek havoc on your bikini bod.

Nap Time

I'm sitting here having one of those days that only stay-at-home parent's can really understand.  For the second day in a row, Grace is refusing to go down for nap time.  The minute her head hits the pillow, she bounces up and starts screaming her little head off,
"No nap! No nap! No nap!"
I walk out of the room, thinking that just moments ago she was fast asleep in the rocking chair, and wondering what I could have done differently to keep her from awakening. I try and convince myself that exhaustion will take over, and she will fall asleep in the midst of her fit throwing, but as her cries turn to singing, and the singing becomes accompanied by jumping on her mattress and conversations with Elmo, I see the golden hours of nap time slipping through my desperate fingers.
I know that some people think that being a stay-at-home mother is a cushy job.  That we spend all of our time hanging out at the park, playing Barbie's in the living room, and watching soap operas, but this could not be further from the truth.
When you are a stay-at-home parent, you are constantly "on". 
Bathroom break?  Smoke break?  Lunch break?  Give me a break.

So nap time becomes that time that we use to wash the crusty leftover breakfast and lunch bits out of our hair and off of our clothes, and try to pretend like we remember what it's like to feel like a human being.  It's our time to sneak in some quick exercise on the living room floor, which then leads to seeing Cheez-it's that have been hidden under the couch. Upon seeing them, you'll start to wonder when the last time you even had Cheeze-it's in the house, and then, you'll start to mentally add them to your already long list of things you forgot to pick up at the store, because your toddler threw a fit in the middle of your last shopping trip, causing you to cut your weekly fun outing to Schnucks short.
So here I sit, with headphones in my ears to drown out the sound of my daughter, who instead of napping is singing songs from "The Sound of Music."  I'm giving myself 15 minutes of time to eat chocolate and look at gossip websites before I go in there, lay her down, and start the fight all over again.
So far, she's winning, and I'm wondering how come I'm not getting paid for this.

Technically Knocked Out,
Lana

Sunday Fish Fry

In the small town I grew up in, one thing was certain: Every Friday night, there was a fish fry within a stone's throw from where ever you happened to be standing.  No matter what the weather, families would gather into dimly lit bars and eat their fill of cod cut-ups, coleslaw and onion rings.  When the meal was complete, everyone would sit around, basking in the glow of having eaten entirely too much food, and wash it all down with a few frosty mugs of beer.
Last night, because we live in a town that seems to have never heard of a fish fry, our cul-de-sac decided to host one of our very own.  Each of our neighbors brought a side dish, and stood around talking and laughing, as the aroma of fresh fried blue gill filled the air.  Despite the miserable heat, we joyfully feasted on chipotle pasta salad, grilled corn on the cob, garlic bread and salty, crispy fish, until we felt like we were going to pop.
As the sun sank, and the night started to cool off, we all seated ourselves around the old, rough picnic table and watched as fireflies blinked their way through the yard.  When it was time to go inside, we left agreeing on one thing: Locally caught fish, fried up in an impromptu backyard fish fry and surrounded with homemade sides, is one of the best meals on earth.

The New Old Fashioned Recipe

Once upon a time, a long time ago, one of my friends asked me to be his date to a wedding.  There was nothing romantic between the two of us, but I loved his company so I jumped at the chance to join him.  I was in my very early twenties and at 24 he was an adult, so when we went out, we did things that we thought adults did.  For instance, we would go to steakhouses and order a porterhouses and a bottle of dry, red wine. It would take us hours to finish the bottle, and with each sip we both tried our best to convince the other we actually enjoyed it.  We used words like "smoky" and "oaky" to describe it's flavor despite the fact that both of us were cringing inside.
We were fancy and we knew it, and despite being so obviously green, we thought we were oozing with maturity.
It is because of my desire to seem worldly and experienced, that at the wedding, I decided to belly up to the bar and strike up a conversation with my friends father and his co-worker about stocks.
Stocks?
What was I thinking? 
Apparently, I was thinking that could hold my own in a room full of business men, and despite what must have been quite an annoying interruption, they included me 110% in what they were discussing.  In fact, they even handed me a cigar to smoke, which I gingerly puffed away on.  I imagined I looked elegant and thought I belonged on the cover of Vogue. I felt like a movie star from the 1940's.
What was I thinking? 
Looking back now, I am certain that they were getting quite a kick from watching me (all 21 years of me!) puffing away on that cigar and pretending to be a grown up. Perhaps it was then that someone decided ask me what I was drinking, and instead of being honest and telling them I had a glass of sickeningly sweet white wine back at the table, I blurted out, "I'm drinking Old Fashioned's, of course!"
What was I thinking?
To this day, I can remember the bartender placing the stout little tumbler in front of me.  I languidly stirred the cocktail with the tiny swizzle stick, (much like I imagined a starlet would do), and I raised the glass to my mouth.  Because of the maraschino cherry and orange wedge that were afloat in the amber liquid, I expected an Old Fashioned to be tart, fruity and delicious, but as I swallowed the mouthful of gasoline, there was no hiding that I had never actually drank an Old Fashioned before.  I practically died from choking on the fiery tasting cocktail, and as the men took turns pounding me on the back, I wished I could crawl into a hole and disappear.  Mascara streaked tears ran down my face,as I somehow wheezed out an apology and pushed my way past the men to begin frantically searching for my friend.  Once I found him, I quickly explained what had just happened, and he stood in front of me with a look of complete horror on his face.  His mouth hung agape like he was trying to catch flies, but when he finally found his words, he demanded to know,
"What was I thinking?".
I had no explanation other than for a few moments I was feeling much too big for my britches.
1940's starlet I was not.
You would think that this experience would be enough to make me shy away from these kind of cocktails, but I have a motto in life, and it's that if at first I don't like something, I will try it over and over until start to develop a taste for it.
I blame my rediscovered intrigue in Old Fashioned's on Jim making me watch marathon episodes of Mad Men on Netflix for the past week. Every night, as we curl up to watch an episode or two, I think about marching into the kitchen and making myself a stiff one.  Then I remember the wedding and I think twice about it.  Damn that Don Draper...

Cheers,
Lana

The New Old Fashioned
Maker's Mark bourbon
Gingerale
Infused simple syrup (plain, rhubarb and lavender syrup all work very well!)

-Fill a tumbler with ice and pour one hefty shot of bourbon on top of ice.
-Fill glass with gingerale and spoon desired amount of simple syrup over the top of it all.
-Give it a stir and garnish with cherries, oranges or edible flowers!

 

 

Strawberry Lemonade Cupcake Recipe

Dear Readers,

If you are anything like me, and have an incredible weakness for summer and cupcakes, this is the recipe for you. They are perfect for a pool party, a backyard BBQ, weeknight dinner with friends, or just to make because you feel like having a darn cupcake.

Unlike some of the other cupcake recipes I have tried, these are light as air and kept in the refrigerator until ready to serve, so they are nice and cool and oh so yummy.

Want to take it a step further? Try serving them with this perfect pink summer drink and you will swear you have died and gone to cupcake heaven.

Happy Weekend!

Go make some cupcakes!

Love, L

Strawberry Lemonade Cupcakes
1 box white cake mix
1 can strawberry frosting
1-8oz carton of Cool-Whip
3/4 cup Country Time Lemonade Drink Mix

-Prepare cake mix as directed, adding 1/2 cup of the drink mix to the batter.
-Bake according to directions on the box, and then let the cupcakes cool completely on a wire rack.
-In a large stand mixer, blend 1/2 the can of frosting and the remaining drink mix until everything is incorporated and the sugar has dissolved. You can tell when the frosting is ready by dunking a finger in and taking a taste. Once everything is mixed, slowly fold in the Cool-Whip.
-Frost cupcakes and decorate with toppings of choice. I used rainbow sprinkles and maraschino cherries, but candied lemon peel would be good, too!
-Refrigerate until ready to eat.

Simple Blackberry Cobbler Recipe

I have one small regret about this post, and it's that I do not have a picture of this cobbler once it was cooked. I wish I had a good excuse for this, but the truth is, I was more concerned about giving it to my grandmother for her 79th birthday than I was about taking a photo of it. I suppose that the after shot isn't really that important though, is it?
What's important is being able to sit as a family, young and old, and share something yummy for a birthday celebration. It's amazing the stories that are told, the smiles that are shared, and the hearts that are warmed over a simple dessert. Never do the powers of sugar, flour and butter cease to amaze me. They, along with a little love, have the ability to turn a regular day into one filled with love and life long memories.

Simple Blackberry Cobbler
2 cups blackberries, washed
1 cup spelt flour (all purpose flour is fine!)
1 Tb baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 C sugar
1 stick plus 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 cup milk

-Grease a pie pan with 1 tablespoon of butter.
-Melt remaining stick of butter in a small saucepan. Once melted, set aside.
-Whisk flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and add milk. Once the milk is added, slowly stream in melted butter and mix until just combined.
-Pour batter into greased pie pan, and then top with berries.
-Place cobbler in cold oven, turn heat to 350 degrees, and bake for one hour.

Top with cinnamon ice cream or homemade whipped cream!

Note: The "helper", whose hand is featured in my photo, ate more than her fair share of berries before we had a chance to put them into the cobbler. Therefore, my cobbler wasn't as berry-licious as I would have liked. Since you will be making yours with the correct amount of berries, you'll probably see more berries than batter before you put your cobbler in the oven. Rest assured, you are making yours correctly. Mine was skimpy.

Love,
Lana

Blueberry Love Poem

Pickin' the blues was so much fun,

not just for me, but for everyone!

I was handed a bucket with instructions to fill it,
I tried my very best not to spill it.

Soon my bucket got heavy,
and my arms got tired.
From this pickin' job
I begged to get fired.

Are these people crazy?
Can't they see?
5 pounds of berries is too heavy for me?

So instead of picking I ate my share,
And as you can see, I'm no worse for the wear.
Despite my shortcomings,
my mom picked a bunch.
And we're making some muffins,
right after lunch.

Berry Stained Fingers,
Grace
(dictated to and typed by Mommy)

The Void

I'm kind of having a ho-hum day. I am supposed to be working on my resume, but instead I am writing on this little blog of mine and sipping a cup of day old coffee.
I hate writing resumes.
I feel like they are so impersonal, and I miss the good old face to face interviews. I don't like having to put labels on myself such as: diligent, creative, punctual, orderly.  Sure, I am all of those things, but they just sound so "businessy".

The company that I am interested in writing for is looking for a freelance writer who will write ten daily deals for them each week.
I can do that.
In fact, they specifically are looking for someone who not only can write the deals, but someone who can do it with wit and a little sass.
I can really do that.
I'm just having a hard time telling them that I am the right person for the job. I sit down to write and I feel like I have the worst case of writer's block in history.  Maybe it's because I'm not used to talking myself up.  I like to stay humble, and resumes kind of force you to act like you are fantastic.

I think another issue I am having is the two year time gap on my resume in which I have chosen to stay at home a raise my beautiful, little nugget, instead of going back to work. This was a difficult decision to make, but at the same time I knew it was the right choice. To me, this seems noble. To corporations? I'm not so sure. I look at that gap, and instead of seeing it filled with all of the meaningful moments that I have been able to provide for my family, I see it as a big black hole. 
An unexplained void in my working history.

With the economy the way that it is, I guess I just sort of feel like no one is going to hire an entry level writer who gets her kicks making people laugh and who enjoys inventing her own words. (Remember "businessy" in the first paragraph of this post?) I'm not really "seasoned" and can't figure out why I have to compare myself to a steak to get a job.  Until then, I will be trying to come up with some other ways to explain what I have been up to for the past 730 days.

Do you think "Well-Marbled, Dry-Aged Superhero" is too over the top?

Hanging Out My Laundry,
Lana


Photo by http://100percentcottam-austin.blogspot.com/2009/09/holding-out-for-super-hero.html

Vegan Brownies with Vanilla Bean Whipped Cream

Do you remember when you were a child and your mother would make cookies or brownies? If you were anything like me, you would camp out at the counter, watching as eggs were cracked, sugar and flour were measured into cups, and vanilla was spooned into a giant bowl. The whir of the electric mixer would send you into a state of anxiety as you waited (not so) patiently for a taste of the raw dough.  If you were really lucky, despite all of the warnings your mother would shout out about stomach aches, she would hand you a beater, dripping with dough.  In that moment, everything was right in the world.  You were a kid with raw dough, and not even death by salmonella could frighten you.

For a long time in my life, I honestly thought my mom was lying about getting people getting sick from eating raw dough.  I thought it was some kind of trick that adults played on children so they could have all of the fun.  Kind of like smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol.
Ok, maybe not quite like that.

Omelet Stuffers

Omelet you in on a secret:

Here in our house, we eat a lot of omelets.
We eat 'em for breakfast, we eat 'em for lunch, and we eat 'em for dinner.
We love omelets.  Maybe even a little too much.
They are the perfect one dish dinner, they are fast as lightening to prepare, they are cheap, and they can go far beyond the typical cheese stuffed variety if you just let them.

A Fair to Remember

On Saturday, the school that Grace attends one day a week hosted a Spring Fair.
This was the same weekend we were having family down to celebrate Grace's birthday, so we combined the two events and made it a celebration to remember!
It was the best party ever, and there was so much to do.

You could get your hair spray painted!
I don't know about you, but I think these guys are going to put Clairol out of business.


















You could win a prize at one of the many game stands!
If you were really lucky, maybe you would win a lime-green snake, and use it to scare the bejesus out of fellow fair goers.

You could even take your chances and try to crack open one of the giant pinatas!
Watch out for falling candy!

And it just so happens, that if you were a very special little girl who just turned two, your fellow classmates would serenade you with "The Birthday Song".
And if you happen to be this special little girl's mommy, this is the moment you will hold the camera up to your face to hide the fact that you are now a blubbering mess of tears and mascara.

Realizing I May Have Set Grace's Birthday Party Bar Extremely High,
Lana

5 Great Summer Reads

It's hot.
It's cold.
It's hot.
It's cold.
I can't keep up with this weather!  Last week, it was so sunny and hot that we spent our days eating big slices of cold, juicy watermelon and our nights sipping summery cocktails. But last night, when I ran up town for some honey and ginger to help comfort my summer sore throat, I had to wear a long sleeve shirt and leggings.
I can't figure it out, and apparently, Mother Nature can't figure it out either.
No wonder I am sick.