My Journey & Story – Page 7 – Backdoor Hospitality

Almond Brown Sugar Pound Cake

Ben and I got to get away this weekend for the first time since before Tayers was born (August 2008 last nights away). It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. If you’re a mother, can I just say that you need time away. Your kids will be fine. In fact, they’ll be the better for it. Heck, you both will be the better for it. And most likely, your husband has been wanting to get away with just you for quite some time. If you’re a single mom, then enlist someone’s help to give yourself extra alone time, because I commend your hard work & efforts doing this job alone. All in all–get away, don’t think twice, just do it. It will give you more to give back.

It was also over a year ago, with me 7 months pregnant, baking every single dessert for my dear friends (Tina & Jason) wedding. I had the privilege of making Jason his favorite dessert (Carrot Cake) and he would echo my praises when I say, “it is pretty much the best carrot cake EVER!” Then, for Tina as the gluten-intolerant gal that she is, I made chocolate truffle cakes with homemade raspberry puree. Her all-time combo is chocolate & raspberry. Well, after the day was over, I told Ben to remind me to NEVER do that while I was that pregnant again–no matter who is asking. But, lucky for me, I was blessed with a gift certificate to a local spa in town from my dessert making at 7 months effort. So on Saturday I finally used it (only about 17 months later) for my 90 minute Swedish massage. Heavenly!

Tayers chillin' with her papa (she has the charm factor going strong)

It even got me reflecting about my last massage (I was pregnant) and how maybe I’m ready for another baby. Well, let’s stop right there, because A. this will not be the place I will first be discussing such BIG ideas and B. I think the masseuse hit some pressure points leading to romantic, idealism babyland. Mental note: Kamille, enjoy your first over night away with your husband without thinking about adding more insanity quite yet.

We did enjoy our time together. Our room overlooked the water, we went on walks, ate some classical French food (some I will most likely not eat again), & had adult conversation without interruptions. We also had this Portugese Almond Cake with Apricot Compote. I enjoyed it, as I enjoy most anything with almonds. It reminded me of this Almond Cream Cheese Pound Cake I made a while back, but haven’t shared it with you yet. And this seems as good as any.

Brown Sugar! and Almond Pound Cake (printable recipe)

This cake is adapted from Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey. I made this pound cake, then whipped up some heavy cream for whipped cream and used my orange cardamom caramel to make an Almond Orange Cardamom Caramel Trifle. Down right dangerous, but I play high stakes. Also, go to Trader Joe’s to purchase Almond Meal for a cheaper price. I sifted my almond meal to separate the ground skin from the almond meat.

Ingredients

2 cups bleached all-purpose flour, sifted then measured
1 ¼ cups ground almond meal or almond flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 ½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted
1 Tb vanilla extract
1 tsp pure almond extract
6 large eggs, room temperature

Directions:

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 325 F. Spray two 8 ½ by 4 ½ inch loaf pans with nonstick cooking spray.

In a bowl, sift together the flour, almond meal, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a bowl of an electric mixer, set on medium speed, beat butter and cream cheese together until smooth and creamy (3 minutes). Gradually beat in the brown sugar and confectioner’s sugar and continue beating until pale and fluffy. Beat in the vanilla and almond extracts.

Add the eggs to the butter mixture one at a time, beating well after each addition. Fold the flour and almond mixture into the batter by hand, using a rubber spatula or large balloon whisk, until no traces of flour remain.

Spoon the batter evenly among the two loaf pans. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 75 to 90 minutes.

Transfer the cake to a wire rack. Let cool for 5 minutes before unmolding onto the rack. Let cool completely on wire rack. The cake can be eaten, wrapped well in plastic & stored at room temperature for up to 3 days, or frozen for up to 1 month.

sorry about the horrible picture, but the sun had gone down

Banana Macadamia Praline Scones

This morning I woke up at 6:00 after going to bed rather late, because I wanted to bring some scones to the worship team I’m blessed to be apart of and where I would be joining at 7:30 this morning (as well as leave some warm, freshly baked scones for my little family). I love scones for their multifaceted ability and what I might deem as “kitchen sink baking.” And let me tell you that the scones I made were fantastic with chopped up apples, toasted walnuts, dried cranberries, buttermilk, & making use of whole wheat flour. However, the sun wasn’t out by the time these came out of the oven and honestly, I needed to get going, so no time for a photo and no recipe for them.

Lucky for you is that I made a different scone last weekend, which were the essence of freshly baked banana bread, except in scone form (does it get any better on a lazy Saturday morning?). I didn’t get to linger in the aroma of these too long after pulling them out of the oven, because they quickly got devoured by my carbohydrate frenzied daughters.

A bit of a transition from scones to some of what I’ve been reflecting on this week. There’s really no easy transition, but an abrupt bump in the road and steering toward another course sometimes. This would be one of those times. I have to share that a week ago I went to bed thinking I would delete this blog, cut my losses and call it a good run. I’ve been discouraged in writing posts, looking at other people’s blogs, and then coming back to evangitality asking myself, “What in the world am I doing with this blog?” And further asking, “does anyone even read this?…why am I writing?…and who am I writing for?”

And being a thin-skinned, sensitive type, I tend to read into things that aren’t there and over analyze and stop being who I’m designed to be and try to be something I’m not (leading to further insecurities). So as I was about to hastily pull the plug, a dear friend sent a message to me on Facebook about this blog. And ya know what, it wasn’t anything profound or big, but a simple reminder for me to take a step back and reflect. I needed to reflect upon what inspired me in the first place to start this evangitality blog thing (the name which some people cannot pronounce) and get back to that.

So I’ve spent a week not feeling any need to put up a new post, but simply be. After a conversation with Ben (and many with God after that), he mentioned how I have to ask myself what I want to convey. He said, “do you want it to become a food blog? What’s your mission with it?” Well, I haven’t completely narrowed it down; however, I do know that I’ve felt like I’ve jumped around and haven’t always stayed on track. What I have figured out is that I am not and never was intending this to solely be a food blog. There about a zillion food blogs out there and although I absolutely love baking & cooking–I’m not wanting to sign up for being one in a zillion at this point (stubborn maybe). However, I will still be posting recipes, because it’s a means of hospitality, but I don’t want to limit this to simply food posts.

But I do want this blog to be centered around hospitality, exploring the theoretical aspects of it and practical, sharing stories from my experience and stories of other people who serve as inspirations to further walk this road of evangitality. I hope you will join me and give me feedback along the way. I hope you will share your stories of walking out evangitality or people who have walked before or alongside you in these footsteps. And here’s what evangitality is about

Evangitality is about living out Christ in practical ways, through the monotonous, humdrum of life. It is taking evangelism, which is sharing the ‘good news,’ and mixing it with a welcoming, caring, loving, and safe environment, which we might call ‘hospitality.’

So maybe the next time you are wanting to extend evangitality to someone you know needs to hear this, may I suggest you bring these scones with you, because I’m pretty sure that helps build an instant bridge.

Banana Macadamia Praline Scones (printable version)

These scones were adapted from my Simply Scones book. Instead of using 100% all-purpose flour, I split it in half using whole wheat pastry flour as well. If you love banana bread, then these scones will hit that “curl up on the couch-with a cup of coffee-sitting in your pajamas” spot.

Ingredients:

¼ cup granulated sugar
2 Tb brandy or water
¾ cup lightly salted macadamia nuts
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 ¼ cups whole wheat pastry flour
1/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
2 ½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
1/3 cup unsalted butter, chilled
1 cup mashed ripe banana (2 large bananas)
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tsp turbinado sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 375. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Lightly oil a 10-inch diameter circle on a baking sheet or put down a silipat. In a small heavy saucepan, stir together the granulated sugar and brandy (or water). Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the sugar dissolves. Increase the heat to high and bring the mixture to a boil. Cook without stirring for 4 minutes, or until the mixture turns amber and caramelizes. Immediately stir in the macadamia nuts and stir to coat the nuts with the syrup. Immediately scrape the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet or silipat. Cool for 20 minutes or until hardened. Transfer the mixture to a cutting board and chop the praline.

In a large bowl, stir the flour, brown sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut the butter into ½-inch cubes and distribute them over the flour mixture. With a pastry blender or two knives used scissors fashion, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. In a small bowl, stir together the bananas, eggs, and vanilla. Add the banana mixture to the flour mixture and stir to combine. The dough will be sticky. Stir in praline.

Take the dough and drop it on the parchment lined baking sheet (about baseball size). Sprinkle with the turbinado sugar and bake for 25-30 minutes. Once you start smelling the wonder that comes from banana bread take it out and set it on a cooling rack. Serve warm and be careful to not eat all of them too quickly.

Makes about 8 scones

Palace Temple & Hospitality

When I think about hospitality and what that really looks like…I typically find myself watching other people to see what they’ve come up with. And on Friday night as Ben and I were sitting in a living room listening to the story of a lady we both know, it was at that moment that I took a mental picture. I take these pictures of moments that I don’t want to forget. Unless it’s really standout, I most often forget if I don’t write it down. Well, here I am, writing it down…it being the story of Trudy & John and The Whatcom Dream.

I’ve heard Trudy’s story a couple times now, but it’s still phenomenal to me. She grew up knowing & using the welfare system. Not thinking much about what future she could have, she bought into the system and became a product of all she knew. There wasn’t a way out until she encountered T.W.D. However, T.W.D. was more than an organization, but it was people who met Trudy & John where they were. T.W.D. teaches financial classes to empower those who are financially destitute to give them a hope, yet not a handout. Trudy would call herself a sassy young woman with the mouth of a sailor (both verbally & what went in).

But, as the members of T.W.D. met her where she was at, she also soon realized that Jesus wanted to meet her where she was at. She and John got married, started serving the Lord, and moved out of Bellingham’s renown poorest/highest crime rate neighborhood into safe suburbia. But (yes there’s always a ‘but’), God told her that she needed to move back to the neighborhood where she came from and be evangitality to meet the people where they were at.

So they packed up their stuff, sold their place, and bought the little pink house which was once a well-known meth house on the Texas block. They were redeeming the evil for the good. Fast forward ahead and Trudy & John still live in that old meth house, except they have been living out true hospitality to their neighbors & neighborhood. They have started a community garden, host bonfires, and simply go out through their neighborhood to know the people who live there. People flock to John & Trudy. And I think it’s because they emanate a pure goodness.

What struck me on Friday night was something new as Trudy spoke. She & John are shining lights in their neighborhood and I know they genuinely love their neighbors. Their authenticity is what makes them so attractive. But what got me was this…I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’m not living in the “ghetto” doing hard core hospitality. However, I began to ask God, “what would you have us do and where?” You see, when you hear stories like Trudy’s you cannot help, but want to pack up all your stuff and give it away for the less fortunate. Yet, I don’t think that’s necessarily the answer all the time (sometimes yes, most the time…no). Do I have the answer for myself and my family? No.

But, what I do know, at this very moment is this. I truly believe that wherever I find myself, in whatever circumstance, I need to seek out contentment. When I think about Ben and my dream to own a house suitable for hospitality I can get discouraged. However, when I think about what we are blessed with…the size really doesn’t matter. Isn’t it more about making due with what you have? And when I recall my formative years, it’s not about the size, style, or aesthetic quality of the house which gave me hospitality. No, it was the about the size of the heart, the style in grace and the attention to detail that the person gave me (as a person worthy of dignity), which brought me hospitality. It didn’t even matter how immaculate their house was, but how they preserved me as a person.

And that’s what spoke to me the most on Friday night. Trudy is speaking worth into these people’s lives. She is doing opposite of what the money changers were doing in the temple 2000+ years ago when Jesus turned over their tables. She is viewing each person as God’s Palace Temple and that’s not anything to be taken lightly.

But where do I find my place to extend hospitality these days? Honestly, (and I hope this isn’t a cop out) I think a vast majority comes in the form of mothering. How do I treat my children as God’s Palace Temple on an hourly basis? Although most of my time is dedicated to this life-long journey of mothering at the moment, I am constantly seeking where else I can meet people where they are at to reassure them that they too are God’s Palace Temple, which I think is the very core of genuine hospitality.

Mustard Roasted Cauliflower

As I’m sure we are all blown away by the wreckage on the news, internet, facebook, etc with the devastation in Haiti, it might makes us wonder about so many things in life. One thing I’ve been struck by is the certainty of my blessings. As I sat at the table last night eating dinner with my family, Ben shared about his lunch appointment that day and the first hand accounts of Mozambique orphans. His client spoke of witnessing a four year old child raising his 18 month old sibling, all the while searching through the garbage dump for food, clothing, & basic sustenance of life.

Both of us looking at our girls with their pretty little heads adorned with piggy tails thinking the same thing…”you girls are blessed.” Tears start to form as I look at my girls living in that condition and my heart breaks. My girls who know nothing of trial, or pain, or anything evil. Their innocence as they eat grilled cheese sandwiches and I think upon my comment about dinner before sitting down, “this is our humble dinner tonight, nothing fancy.” But this humble dinner would be the feast for those orphans in the dump.

And as I left for a meeting that night, I wept in the car. I wept thinking of the Haitian mothers who would never hold their babies again. Little bodies being crushed by falling buildings. Babies who would never hear their mother’s song, or feel the warmth of her touch, or the protection & love of their father, because they are now orphans. And what do I do with this anguish? I cry, I weep, I mourn. I cry with the mother. I cry with the father. I cry with the child.

My friend once asked the question of herself and God. When am I sinning? When I laugh at what God cries at. When I mock at what God scorns. When I judge at what God is extending grace to. So in this hour, I choose to cry for the broken, to scorn the flippant, to extend grace…and reflect upon how truly blessed I am.

Today I made this simple, mustard roasted cauliflower. It reminded me of how something so meager can be very fulfilling. And how it’s the little things in life, which are the most rewarding. I hope you will find your little blessings to be thankful for and give blessings to the people in the wreckage.

Mustard Roasted Cauliflower (printable recipe)

This is a simple meal for simple times and you can easily roast a couple of these slices then store some in the fridge for other uses. I love the combination of the salt, mustard and sweetness of the roasted cauliflower.

1 head of cauliflower
2 Tb Olive oil (or more)

2T Dijon mustard
Fine sea salt

Preheat oven to 400 F – Place the head of cauliflower on a cutting board, and slice it top-down into ¼-inch thick slices, some of which will crumble. Baste cauliflower with plenty of olive oil, dijon mustard and a bit of salt, spread it in a single layer on a heavy sheet pan (or two, if one looks crowded), and roast until golden brown and caramelized, turning bits and slices once or twice, about 25 minutes.

Grandma’s No Bakes

I can recall Christmas time in AZ as a little girl typically wishing I was someplace in the movies where snow wasn’t a foreign concept. But, despite my lack of cold powdery stuff anywhere within my perimeter, one of my fondest memories entailed a box awaiting my departure from the school bus.

My parents owned a mattress/bedding store growing up. I would ride the bus home, or shall I say, ride the bus to the store everyday. I was in the first grade, walking to the store anticipating the coming Christmas break (I was a huge daydreamer, so not being in a routinized setting meant the world to me). Upon my arrival, there was a package waiting for all of us to open. It was a big cardboard box from Oregon, which meant it was from Grandma Cox.

My grandma was one of those iconic grandmother types. She embodied everything grandmotherly (i.e. warm hugs, cards sent for every holiday, and that aura). I loved her more than just for what she gave us, but how she loved. She loved with an unconditional love. If she didn’t like someone, you would never know it, because she loved them immensely. So, whenever we received anything in the mail from her, it was as if we were getting a bit of her there with us.

And on that December day, when I walked through the store’s back door and scrounged through that box with my brother, the round tin was our golden ticket. My mom trying to enforce some constraint on our behalf, but I can still recall the chocolate peanut butter no bakes. I feel like these are the quintessential Christmas nostalgia cookie for me, because of my grandma.

Chocolate Peanut Butter No Bakes (printable recipe)

I used gluten-free oats, in order for my gluten intolerant friend to eat them. However, I did notice these had a bit of a chew to them. I think it’s because they were Bob’s Red Mill Oats. They were still wonderful and reminiscent of Grandma’s. This recipe is adapted from here.

Ingredients:

2 cups granulated sugar

1/2 cup unsalted butter

4 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa

1/2 cup whole milk

1 cup crunchy peanut butter

1 tablespoon vanilla

3 cups oats (I used gluten-free)

In a medium saucepan, combine sugar, butter, cocoa & milk and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Cook until mixture begins to boil. Allow it to boil without stirring for 2-2 1/2 minutes. Then, add the peanut butter, vanilla & oats, stirring it all together. Remove from heat and continue to stir to allow the mixture to coat thoroughly. Using a teaspoon or tablespoon (depending on what size you want), drop mixture onto wax paper. Allow to sit and firm up. Eat & drink with milk.

Twist on Tuna Fish Salad

During my dating years with Ben, I at a meager 19 years of age & at times a bit emotionally verbose. Well, that’s the nice way of putting it…I should say, more like you’re average, ‘head in the clouds, idealist romantic teenage girl, somewhat resembling Kelly Kapoor at my low points.’

Now, as I envisioned our relationship in my daydreamer television, a surprise homemade lunch would knock it out of the park. So, as I was working full time gaining Washington residence, while Ben went to school full time, I would typically visit him on a day off. And this day off entailed me making him a surprise lunch. I had just made homemade potato salad, which would accompany a tuna fish sandwich on an ethereal sunny Spring Bellingham day.

I was so proud of my domesticity and resourcefulness of using what was in my kitchen, and Ben was sure to LOVE it. It was an act of service & love…what was not to love about it. I caught the bus to campus and met him at the campus’ main bus shelter, where we walked to a little nook overlooking the bay. We sat down, me beaming to hear words of praise & exultation and begging for seconds.

As I pulled out the sandwiches & potato salad (I’m sure there was something else in there, but what ensued was a bit traumatic for me), I announced what lay wrapped in the wax paper & rubbermaid container to receive a reaction quite contrary to what I envisioned. Rather than being lifted upon his shoulders singing, “For she’s a jolly good lady…,” he gave a look. Yes, a look. The look an infatuated, emotionally volatile 19 year old NEVER wants to see from her boyfriend (God bless him for enduring). The kind of look that has detest written all over it…the crinkled nose, the squinched eyes & turned up brows & mouth, but with a hint of empathy mixed through it all. (I’m sure there was more empathy, but it got clouded)

Ben said, “Umm, I don’t like tuna fish.”

Me stunningly replied, “Oh. Well, I made homemade potato salad!” Hoping that that would cover a multitude, but he replied… with another look. “What!” I said. He simply had the look as if hoping I could read his mind, which I could, but at this point, I wanted him to tell me. Then, I called him on it (with a deep breath), “you don’t like potato salad either?!”

“No, not really,” he replied.

What ensued was not one of my proudest moments. Tears began to teeter, but eventually fell with force down my face and I believe I mumbled out something to the effect, “if you love me you would eat it!” Ben, in his righteousness, ate the sandwich that day, along with the potato salad. He did it without grumbling (for the most part) and satisfied my personal insecurity as a young lady.

I learned two things that day. Not any man would be willing to put up with such emotional displays, unless he himself was infatuated or if he could see something a diamond needing more polishing. And two, never, never will I insist that his love is dependent on what I make (well almost never:) ). But one things for sure, when tuna or albacore is bought in this household I know I could put our whole life savings on him not eating one bit. And in honor of love without reason comes a tuna fish salad for these dreary winter months when you need to be reminded of sunshine spilling on you.

Mise en Place

Albacore Salad (printable recipe)

I had a similar tuna fish salad sandwich while pregnant with my youngest and it forever changed my concept of how it’s made. This is very forgiving, so use more olives if you like, or less artichokes, or whatever. All of these naturally pair well together. And you can serve it on top of a bed of lettuce or as a sandwich.

Ingredients:

1-can water packed albacore, drained

zest of one lemon

juice of half lemon

1/4 of red onion, finely chopped

2 tablespoons capers

1 tablespoon green olives, roughly chopped

4 artichoke whole canned artichoke hearts, sliced in quarters (I use water packed)

3 tablespoons mayo, I use light

1-2 teaspoons kosher salt

generous grinds of the pepper mill, or 1/2 teaspoon already ground pepper

Quarter your artichokes, dice your onion, chop your olives, zest lemon and set aside. Put drained tuna or albacore into a bowl. Add all of prepared ingredients, along with juice of half lemon, salt, pepper, & mayo. Mix together and serve it up, but not to someone who doesn’t like tuna fish from a can.

Casimir Pulaski Day & My Firstborn

I’m an auditory learner. I thought I was a visual, but realized today I’ve misdiagnosed myself. This would make sense for my love of music, learning all the lines of the play I was in in third grade, & my ability to repeat most things when put to song or via storytelling.
Music..it’s a powerful tool, which is innate to most humans. It stirs emotion in the deep crevices of our life. It reminds us where we were & what we were feeling when a specific song is playing. It brings people together & tears others apart. I received my degree in History with an emphasis in Early Modern Europe. In fact, my thesis was on the complications music brought into the newly formed Protestant Church (tore people apart & brought others together).
Well, for me music is everything beautiful, sweet & good. I’m listening to Sufjan Steven’s ‘Casimir Pulaski Day.’ This song floods my mind & my heart with some of life’s deepest of emotions.
Ben had just bought Steven’s album “Come On Feel the Illinoise.”. It was late December of 2006 & I was about 38 weeks pregnant with our first child. Not quite knowing then how life altering giving birth would be, then mix in bringing a baby home whom you’d be responsible for it’s sustenance (makes for mental instability at times).
This album played non-stop. As I drove in the car, listened to my MP3 player, & when we were at home together. The song talks about a young girl getting cancer of the bone, which is depressing, especially when you’re husband points out after our daughter is born, “This song makes me sad, because I think of our daughter dying.” not really what you want to tell a postpartum mama.
But, this song now reminds me of how quickly she’s grown up. There have been times when I wished, “if only this could go more quickly!”. I’m reminded of all the fear I felt as a new mama, not knowing how I would make it through her first week, how I was going to get her to latch on…or…how would I make it through the dark night. I recall days just prior to sunset praying, “God, you’re my strength, I believe but help my unbelief,” over & over. I mustered all I could to not cry & think, “I don’t love her like Ben does, but I’m her mama.”
So as I listen to this song, I think of that scared mama sitting in the bathroom crying. I think of missing out on the beauties of my firstborn’s first weeks & how I wish I could take it back. But more importantly, which is now, I think of my dear, sweet, one of kind dreamer, firstborn daughter who will be three years too soon and how I want to bundle her up to stop her growing. I want to always hold her like I did the first day I met her. I want to cherish her beauty, her intellect, her quirks…everything that makes her the original handiwork the good Lord made.
This is what music does to me. It stirs up strong & powerful images, feelings, emotions, smells, tastes…creating stories for my life’s storybook.And I guess that’s why her middle name is Storey, which means ‘strong & powerful.’

Thankfulness Squash Galette

It’s almost Thanksgiving and I really should be in bed. However, since I’m at my in-laws house, I know I get to sleep in. I’ve been extremely blessed with loving in-laws who are also amazing grandparents. They have a rule, which is one I affirm wholeheartedly, “Parents get to sleep in while they take care of the grandkids.” I am thankful.

And I know it’s Thanksgiving, to which we are to be grateful for all the many blessings we’ve been given; however, life happens at the most inopportune times and you’re not always handed something to be thankful about. I received some news which is discouraging and causes me to think with a fatalistic fear. I’m not gifted with optimism the majority of the time. And although I would say my glass is half full, this doesn’t equate with walking around thinking I can tackle anything and keep truckin’.

I’m at first glance an optimist fatalist, because I’m an extrovert who is over dramatic. I see the best in the outcome, but I get caught up in the path to get there at times. Ultimately, I need to remember that I am not savior and rely on one who is. Life is hard enough without having a savior complex. What…with being a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister, etc., is enough in and of itself. I’m only required to live in this moment and do what I’m called to do. My job is not to be the perfect mom. Or to cook the perfect meals. Or to carry others burdens/issues. I don’t have to live up to expectations that others have set for me or even ones I’ve set for myself.

And in a world where we compare everything and everyone, it can be pretty damn hard. Where our children are compared to one another from day one based on their weight & length. Where mothers ask other mothers what “percentile” their child falls (maybe to feel good that their child is a bit bigger and doing “better”). Where smart is based on knowing your ABC’s, speaking in fluent tongue, or excelling in ‘quantifiable’ means. Where beauty is measured based on waist size & symmetrically aligned faces.

Yet, in the midst of all the reasons aforementioned (and then some), I can take solace in what the prophet Zephaniah spoke to Israel many, many moons ago:

Sing, O Daughter of Zion;
shout aloud, O Israel!
Be glad and rejoice with all your heart,
O Daughter of Jerusalem!

The LORD has taken away your punishment,
he has turned back your enemy.

The LORD, the King of Israel, is with you;

never again will you fear any harm.

On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
“Do not fear, O Zion;

do not let your hands hang limp.

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing.”

I like knowing that I am to “shout…rejoice with all my heart,” because He “delights” in me, he “quiets” my whole being with “his love,” and he “rejoices over me with singing.” It gives me a picture of my daughter happily singing (in and out of tune) with complete abandon through the living room. It brings me joy & I fully delight, or enjoy her…for her. And when she’s upset, or hurt, or even quietly in my lap…I get to shower my songs upon her. And oh my, it brings her peace in the midst of a storm feeling. Thankfulness…it’s knowing that type of peace in eye of the storm, and choosing to see the good in the midst of it. So for that…I am thankful for this day the Lord has made.

If you’re wanting to add some tangible thankfulness to your day (or someone else), then this galette is definitely high on the list. Happy Thanksgiving!

Butternut Squash Galette & Delicata Squash Galette (printable recipe)

This pastry crust is courtesy of Epicurious. I needed to make two Galettes, so I doubled the pastry ingredients below. I also used 3/4 butternut squash for one galette and 1/4 for the other galette. The crust was flaky, savory & sublime. I love these for their versatility and improvisation.

For pastry:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 tablespoon chopped sage leaves
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
4 to 6 tablespoons ice-cold water
1 large egg, lightly beaten

For butternut squash filling:

1 (2-pound) butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 2- by 1/4-inch slices (4 cups) **reserve about 1/4 of it for other galette if making it.
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium sized shallot
4 ounces soft mild goat cheese
4 ounces soft cream cheese
1 egg

Make dough:
Pulse flour, butter, sage, and sea salt in a food processor until mixture resembles coarse meal. Drizzle ice water evenly over mixture and pulse until it just forms a ball. (Do not overwork dough, or pastry will be tough.) Gently press dough into a 5-inch disk and chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, at least 1 hour.

Make filling while dough chills:
Preheat oven to 500°F with rack in middle.

Toss squash with sea salt and 1 Tbsp oil and arrange in 1 layer in a 17-by 12-inch shallow baking pan. Roast, stirring once halfway through roasting, until golden brown on edges and undersides, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove squash from oven and reduce oven temperature to 375°F.

Meanwhile, saute shallots in 1 tablespoons oil with a pinch of sea salt in a 10-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, until tender, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl to cool slightly. Combine goat cheese, cream cheese & egg in a small bowl. Mix to combine.

Make galette:
Roll out dough into a 13-inch round on a lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin. Transfer to a baking sheet. Spread out cheese filling in center of dough. Dump about 3/4 of butternut squash on top, along with shallots, leaving a 2- to 3-inch border. Fold dough in on itself to cover outer rim of filling, pleating dough as necessary. Put a few sage leaves on top, drizzle with olive oil & sprinkle with sea salt. Brush pastry with beaten egg and bake galette until crust is cooked through and golden on edges, 35 to 45 minutes. Cool on baking sheet on a rack 10 minutes before serving.

Delicata-Butternut Squash with Kale Galette: there’s no need to peel the delicata, because it’s skin is tender upon roasting and is easily eaten.

1 delicata squash
olive oil for drizzling delicata
sea salt for sprinkling delicata
1/4 of above cooked butternut squash
1 medium shallot (I cooked 2 shallots and divided them between the two recipes)
3 kale leaves, vein removed & chopped into bite sized pieces
1 Tablespoon olive oil
5 ounces goat cheese

Cut ends off of delicata. Scoop out seeds & pulp. Cut into 1/4 inch rings, then cut into half moons. Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment. Drizzle with olive oil & sprinkle with sea salt. Roast at 450 for roughly 15 minutes. They don’t take that long. Cool.

Meanwhile, saute kale in 1 tablespoon of olive oil till tender. You may need to add more oil or even some water. Remove to a small bowl and set aside. Saute chopped up half moon shallots in 2 teaspoons olive oil for 1 minute or so. Remove to small bowl.

Combine the delicata squash, 1/4 leftover of cooked butternut squash, cooked shallot, & kale together. Roll out your dough following instructions above, drop goat cheese throughout the center of the rolled out galette. Arrange the vegetables on top of the goat cheese lined crust. Fold dough in on itself to cover outer rim of filling, pleating dough as necessary. Brush pastry with beaten egg and bake galette until crust is cooked through and golden on edges, 35 to 45 minutes. Cool on baking sheet on a rack 10 minutes before serving.

Promise & Spicy Pumpkin Soup

I’m sitting in my living/dining room looking outside to the glorious picture of sunshine pouring down on the golden leaves left on the tree with the faint hue of blue in the sky. The wind is beginning to breathe big breaths upon the leaves and awaken the gray clouds to another stormy afternoon. But in the meantime, I will enjoy what this brief window of sunshine has to offer. With my oldest being sick the past couple days, we’ve been relegated to “operation indoors” (a.k.a. cabin fever). And as I haven’t had much alone time with her being sick and random sleeping times as a result, then you mix in my youngest who is sleeping during the oldest awake hours…well, that equals one exhausted mama.

So yes, I will enjoy this calm before the storm.

I think it’s fitting that I live in the Pacific Northwest in comparison to the way life is and how they correlate with the seasons here. As the wind and the rains pour down, so is our life at many moments. It’s hard to look past the knee high puddles, shivering bodies, and wind blown hair to remember the rainbow after the storms. And as any person living in the PacNW, they would say, “but it storms so much that the sun rarely gives light for a rainbow.” Too true, leaving us feeling a bit hollow inside.

I like what David Bazan from Pedro the Lion says in his song, ‘Promise.’ (this was Ben and my wedding recessional)

for what i’ve seen so far, i can’t believe my eyes
and what a nice surprise
if i look up and the sky’s not there,
is there any reason i should be scared
when a promise, is a promise, i know
if i look up and the sky’s not there,
is there any reason i should be scared
when a promise, is a promise, i know

I like the certainty which comes from Jesus even when we’re walking (or trying to get up) through life’s stormy weather. I have many things to be thankful for in this day…roof over my head, husband with a job, two daughters without major health problems, picturesque view out my window and I am my beloved’s.

Spicy Pumpkin Soup (printable recipe)

This recipe is from my friend Laura and it’s very forgiving as I have changed things here and there, but two things are for sure..1. it’s easy and 2. people will LOVE it. Plus, for vegans & vegetarians, simply substitute chicken broth with vegetable broth.

Ingredients:

1 Tb oil
1 Tb each, minced garlic and chili powder
1-2 tsp ground cumin (I love cumin)
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp chili pepper flakes

4 cups chicken broth
2 cups cooked garbanzo beans or 2 cans (15 oz) chick peas (garbanzo beans), rinsed & drained
1 1/2 cups pumpkin puree or 1 can (15 oz) solid pack pumpkin
2 cups corn kernels, or 2 cans corn kernels, drained
3/4 cup salsa
salt to taste

In a soup pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add the chili powder, cumin, coriander & garlic and cook for 1 minute, while constantly stirring. Add broth, increase heat to medium-high, throw everything else in, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer.

Your soup will eventually start to thicken and resemble the texture of thin gravy, which is what you want. You can easily have this on the table within 30 minutes. Serve it with cornbread and sour cream. You could even use black beans or some other bean of your choice. I prefer the chickpea, but do what you like–it’s truly forgiving. This has a bit of Indian flavor to it and I typically keep adding in more cumin till it hits the right spot.

Juxtaposition

My mom is a woman who’s been through a lot of trials in her 53 years of life. We’ve bumped heads as we are similar in many ways, but we have also laughed, cried & encouraged one another through some pretty hard patches. And through our similarities there are of course the differences we hold. I (as you know) love love love to bake and love love to cook (bake is higher on the list), but my mom not so much. My mom love love loves to talk on the phone, and actually I’m not the biggest fan. I know she would say how I raise my girls, love my husband and tend to household duties is completely opposite to how she did those things when she was my age.

And although she didn’t necessarily teach me how to organize like Martha Stewart would have to her daughter (thank God), I would say my mom gave me gifts through her actions (those that surpass magazine covers or tangible sensibilities in Better Home & Garden magazines). Instead, she taught me what hospitality looked like (even though I didn’t know it was called that). Because my mom wasn’t the (and isn’t) type to say, “see, what I’m doing is called this…(fill in the blank).” She was simplistic in her love and grace to others (she’d probably disagree being hard on herself and call herself judgmental, but she always asked us kids for forgiveness when she was in the wrong).

I can recall my mom being the only parent who welcomed in kids to our home who were unwelcome in other “church” families’ homes. She had/has the knack of befriending just about anyone and “the least of these” are drawn to my mother. She loves without pretense and gives the benefit of the doubt. It’s the people who most of society, if they were honest with themselves, wouldn’t really want to hang out with or associate with. It’s what some might call ‘white trash, Walmart shopping, trailer park residing, welfare living, food stamp eating’ sort of people. I’m thankful for her goodness as she loves like Jesus, while providing me an example of how to love. She is so good about this and I find it to be a virtuous trait.

Christine Pohl, author of Making Room wrote:

Followers of Christ should offer a generous welcome to “the least of these,” without concern for advantage or benefit to the host. Because hospitality is a way of life, it must be cultivated over a lifetime. We do not become good at hospitality in an instant; we learn it in small increments of daily faithfulness. Hospitality is difficult because it involves hard work. People wear out and struggle with limits. Our society places a high value on control, planning, and efficiency, but hospitality is unpredictable and often inefficient. We insist on measurable results and completed tasks, but the results of hospitality are impossible to quantify and the work of hospitality is rarely finished.

One thing I think Pohl left out was, “Hospitality is messy.” It’s untamable, much like Aslan being described in the Chronicles of Narnia (who is the Christ figure in the series). We cannot guarantee that we will love every minute. We cannot control who it is that we are being called to show hospitality to in reality. And this is why hospitality is not entertainment. It’s not about having matching silverware and placemats, a fancy meal, or the best home to showcase it all in. That’s what Fine Living would tell you, but it’s the picture Jesus painted in his parable of having a fine feast inviting all the finest people in the land. However, none of them came. So the host went out & invited the ‘least of these’ from the streets to wine & dine at his feast (juxtaposition). He took any focus off himself to lavish it upon his guests. Making them the star.

So I ask myself (and my family), ‘how do we live in juxtaposition?’ I choose messy & unfinished, much like parenting right:) What do you do to live in juxtaposition? live in the messy & unfinished (‘rarely finished’)?