Choosing Onions and Other Produce

God gave you hands and eyes and a sense of smell.  Use them when choosing produce! This is by no means exhaustive but are simple, basic tips to keep in mind as you shop.

Onions, potatoes and root vegetables (turnips, carrots, sweet potatoes....the fruit grows in the ROOTS or underground) should be firm and no weakening or weepy/wet spots, which shows age and/or deterioration.  When choosing onions I prefer to buy the sweet variety as they cause very little or no stinging to the eyes when cut!

One of my favorite fresh vegetables is celery.  Before grabbing the closest one, check for color and texture.  IF THE STALK BENDS DON'T BUY IT.  Fresh celery is rigid and has no give.  When I get it home I cut off the very end where the stalks are all joined before washing each stalk thoroughly.  Then I cut each stalk at the "knuckle", where it branches and the leaves have started to grow. Take a moment to cut a itty bit of the end off the stock that is dead from harvesting. Set this part aside (Don't throw it away!).  Cut the majority of the GREEN outer stalks according your preferential length to eat and enjoy.  I put mine in a ziplock bag with a tiny bit of water in the bottom to keep them fresh.  Some people prefer aluminum foil.  For the celery hearts (the inside that is light green or yellow) and the knuckles you removed....Chop finely to your preference a seal in a small ziplock bag before tossing into your freezer.  This is great to use when you make vegetable or bean soup for flavor, color and texture!

When buying lettuce, or other fruits and vegetables, don't buy the prepared and packaged kind unless you are super short on time AND plan to use it in short order.  In the original package that God created is always best.  The more hands that touch it to process it, the closer it is to the end of its shelf life is my experience.  For instance, I used to buy bagged salad and end up throwing half or more away because it went bad before I used it.  Now I buy fresh lettuce---romaine or other leaf lettuce, never iceberg (very little nutritional value and no flavor!) and it keeps for WEEKS in my refrigerator.  The icing on the cake?  It is a FRACTION of the price and much fresher.  Wash only what you will use and put the rest back in your produce compartment in the fridge. If you must prepare a large quantity with the potential of leftovers, tear the lettuce with your hands vs. cutting with a knife.  It bruises the lettuce and the edges turn brown quickly after interaction as a result of contact with the knife.

Making a fruit salad? Add the juice of the fruit you're using, especially pineapple!  Don't add apples or bananas until the very last minute because of their short life after being cut.  If you must cut ahead of time, squeeze a little citrus juice (or cartoned orange juice) over them to prevent the browning.

Another "problem child" in the browning department is avocado.  Who doesn't love guacamole for delicious Mexican food or some sliced on a sandwich?  Don't throw out the left overs just because it turns after a tiny bit of time in your fridge.  Put in the smallest container it will fit in and then gently press plastic wrap over it to remove most/all of the air.  Even if a tiny bit turns brown, the flavor is still good!

Emphasizing Strengths

My Mom was a TALENTED and well-educated woman.  She loved people and we entertained often.  She grew up in a family that threw big, lavish parties....but they also had help that did much of the preparation, leaving them to enjoy the party.  Mom learned basics of cooking but it was not her forte.  Her basic "go-to" meal was baked ham (or ham loaf), green beans, sweet potatoes, corn souffle, pineapple and a green congealed jello/cottage cheese salad with chopped pecans on top.  I don't remember her baking other than german chocolate or carrot cakes.  Pies were always frozen---we didn't complain---but ice cream was generally homemade in the summer.  There was never a shortage of ice cream at the Uible house! Speaking of summer, Dad had a helaciously big garden.  His favorites to cultivate were strawberries and asparagus.  The children had no problem liking the strawberries but asparagus is not something I appreciated until I was old enough to buy it and realize it can be an expensive delicacy.  He would pinch off strawberry blooms to get more runners and bigger berries.  Alas, I am wandering far off the path and about to step into the fertilizer, so I will come back to where I intended to go!

Mom would just as soon play cards or read a book or visit in the nursing home as to cook.  Eating out was always more preferable, especially as she grew older!  What I've learned about cooking has been from other folks and life is too short for all of us to make the same mistakes.  In light of that, I've decided to insperse some of the lessons my Mom attempted to teach me by her wonderful example and no-nonsense parenting and frugal spending with some basic cooking lessons I've learned or taught myself.  If you're looking for fine cooking---which if you've read this far, you're not OR you are looking for comic relief---please see my delightful friend, Renee's blog at www.http://joytomyheart.com/

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

One of the things Mom said was “two wrongs don’t make a right.”  In working with children, inevitably there is a “he said/she said” saga that goes something like this…..”She hit me first.” Which is immediately met with, “UH-UH! He spit on me!” While the rhetoric and actions may differ with subtlety, the idea is the same.  One action doesn’t justify the other, no matter who acted first.  I would further add to the wisdom of my mother that there are ALWAYS, at the very least, two sides to every story.  Those who witness a quarrel of any magnitude will see it through their particular lens, including the angle at which they stand;  each individual lens is highly affected by their current--and most especially their past--environment.

Like many, I have witnessed from a distance the growing tension in our country.  I have demonstrated peacefully in my youth with government actions I disagreed with.  Peaceful demonstrations do not include looting, destruction of property or threatening behavior.  Further escalating these actions are those who “stir the pot” such as Al Sharpton and Eric Holder.  When there is a rush to announce action or a verdict before all facts are known, mistakes are inevitable. Big mistakes.  Limited even further by my own lens, I am probably foolish to attempt even one facet of the discussions.  Nonetheless, I am my mother’s daughter and I will rush in where angels fear to trod.

1)      Yes, there are definitely corrupt and evil law enforcement officers but they are rare.  Attempting to make all peace officers into “bad guys” is tantamount to saying that you can’t fly on a plane because there have been plane crashes. 

2)      Crimes are committed every day and often by those who have a previous criminal record.  Human nature is such that if I take one cookie without any repercussions, I can possibly trash the kitchen without anyone stopping me. I will make no assumptions about the cookies or the color of the hand in the jar.

3)      There are bad people. There are good people. There are angry and bitter people who have allowed their souls to be consumed by that negativity like a cancer.  There are positive and adjusted people who refuse to allow the past to ruin the future. My Dad believed that you find what you’re looking for (if people at your church are hateful, maybe you should start by taking a long look in the mirror rather than jumping churches. Again.) You make your own choices and chose the color of your lens as an adult.

4)      Slavery was a horrendous and unspeakable evil.  It still is.  There is still prejudice in our country, by too many folks of ALL colors. Period.

5)      There are some people who believe themselves competent leaders but in reality are only successful in creating a new crisis to use as their soapbox. 

You simply cannot say Michael Brown was innocent when eye witnesses and a camera verify his behavior.  When protestors change from carrying signs to chanting death, it begins to sound more like a conspiracy and they lose much of their credibility.   It is little wonder to me that two police officers were murdered by yet another person who has a criminal record.  Where are those who decried the actions in Ferguson? Those who whipped the crowd into a frenzy last week, actually demanding dead cops? And like so many, I wonder….if there were to be a crime against Al Sharpton or Mayor de Blasio, who the heck are they going to call if not the very police that they have demonized?

Just maybe it’s time to get new glasses.  Change the lenses, even at the cost of letting go of the pretty carrying case for the glasses or the tint that is too dark.  Or maybe, just maybe, some of us need to wear glasses to see the current situation accurately.  

The Christmas Card Tradition

This morning I was transported back to my childhood and the traditions passed on to me by Mother ...without speaking a word about what I should or would do as I grew into adulthood. There are multiple layers of tradition in this picture and, my heart like an onion or artichoke, harbors many layers. The stronger and sweeter the memories as you peel away to the heart. 

The needlepoint manger scene on the mantle was made for me by the wonderful choir at FUMC Somerset and I believe there is love in every stitch.  For many years when our furnishings were sparse, it was displayed year 'round.

On the table is a card file full of addresses of life-long family and friends, the same way my parents kept the addresses of esteemed friends at their fingertips.  The table, handmade by the late Orville Harner of New Vienna, Ohio, was used many times in my parents living room for just such activities. Yes, my folks had a fireplace and that was where my Mom hovered in the winter because she was always freezing COLD.  In her later years, she would be bundled up in 3-4 layers and gloves inside the house!

A few of the Christmas cards I used this year were ones that my Dad had crammed into the furniture before shipping it to Georgia. While not necessarily the sentiment or picture I would choose, it surely reminded me of my Mother ...who had definite ideas of what the cards should look like and what the sentiment should convey. One of which was that Christmas should be fully written, never abbreviated, especially as "Xmas".

Lastly, the rocking chair, my very favorite part of the picture. The rocking chair, pictured, and its matching straight back are my most prized possessions.  They belonged to my Mother's parents and sat in my own parents living room for as long as I can remember.  It is my hope one day to restore them through some tender loving care to their original 100+ year old glory---at least that is what I estimate for their age. In my imagination, Lucie is rocking her baby of three children, my mama, in that chair. I remember seeing my own children rocked there by my Mother. 

One day I dream of having my own grandchildren and being able to rock them in the same chair and tell them of their great grandparents and great, greats. If that rocker could speak, oh, the stories it would tell! In the meantime I will keep the tradition of writing Christmas cards to friends far away (I don't send local cards....go ahead, call me "Scrooge"....but that is another tradition my Mom kept). As I write, I take a moment with each to remember the best of memories. Then I say a prayer as I seal each envelope,  that God would enfold them in His loving care.  He surely has enfolded me with His blessings, many of which began long before I was born.  

Hamloaf

Most folks have never heard of hamloaf.  It seems to be a regional thing and I grew up in Ohio.  Mom was a gifted and opinionated woman.  She loved her family, she was passionate about God, politics, travel and reading but not always prioritized in that manner.  You notice cooking did not make the list.  By the time I'm old enough to remember (as the youngest of 5 kids and Mom was over 40 when I was born), cooking was not even in the same zip code as her priority list.  Cleaning?  That's a whole 'nother blog post but I don't want to make Mama roll over in her grave.  Hamloaf is the subject at hand.  While I've never seen her recipe, I've played with others to attempt to get close to hers.  Here is my latest and it's pretty close to what I remember:

2lbs ground fresh ham (not cooked...you'll probably have to go to a butcher shop to get it.  All the hams at the big box chains seem to be pre-cooked or smoked)

1 sleeve round butter crackers (Ritz if you want the name brand)

12 oz tomato juice or something that resembles it

2 eggs, beaten

1/2 cup mayonaise

1 large squirt mustard

1 small-medium jar "designer" mustard (optional), set aside


Combine all ingredients and press into a square or rectangular pan.* Bake at 350 for approximately 60-90 minutes. Smear designer mustard on top before popping into the oven.  The one I used most recently had Champaign or something like that in the name, I think.   Pair with real, fresh sweet potatoes (not the processed ones that look like hocky pucks and doctored with cinnamon and brown sugar that kids might actually like!) and as many green vegetables as you can humanly find.  If you ever visited my parents home, you realize the enormity of this statement.  All meals were accompanied by milk, lots of milk.  Beets are good, too.  Mama loved beets.

*I've baked this in a 9x13 pan and it ends up dry and over done.  I suggest a slightly smaller pan or even square.  I like it best when the edges are almost nearly burned and the center looks "dry".  Again, it's a regional thing!

The day the turkey didn't roast

I couldn't tell you exactly what year it was that Thanksgiving, only that I was old enough to drive....and to fully understand my mother's panic.  A new oven with a time bake feature (standard on many now days) gave Mom the luxury of popping the turkey in the oven and setting it to heat, roast and the behemoth bird golden brown well before our traditional lunch time feast---simply by putting it in the oven when she went to bed.  

The first sign of trouble: there was no magnetizing aroma of turkey to pull me from my sleep on Thanksgiving day.  Mom had not been up long and when I entered the kitchen; there was mumbling about the turkey still being raw.  Dad, in usual fashion, had gotten up at the crack of dawn and had gone to work in the yard to plant trees, another tradition.  I don't remember the exact chain of events in the interim but I was sent to Wilmington to retrieve Mrs. Blanche Matthews, a family friend who came to share most holidays with us, from Extended Care.  By the time we returned to the homestead, plan B was well underway:Turkey roasting in the oven and hamburgers ready to be fried.
I can still see the square patties on the griddle Mom used to make grilled cheese or french toast.  The turkey was finished cooking in time for an early supper and made for an interesting day, the rest of which has slipped from my memory.
What did I learn that day?

• Things rarely, if ever, go according to plan, so be flexible.  The turkey wasn't ready for lunch..... but it wasn't the end of the world.
• Caring for older adults is important and worth the effort.  Both Mrs. Matthews and my (Uible) grandmother were older, but we looked forward to having them on special occassions and gave no thought to the effort it would take to bring two aging women with walkers into our home.  When Grandma Uible got to the point where she used her wheelchair more and more, she did not let that hold her back.  And, more importantly, my parents never complained or acted as if it was an inconvenience to get her to church each Sunday or out to eat or to a Doctors appointment.  That's just what we did....because it was the right thing and EVERYONE deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.  

In hindsight, God used this lesson not only to help me learn how to interact with Sr. Adults but to prepare me for the challenges of a handicapped husband.  While Don didn't use a walker or wheelchair for many years, when that time came there was no fear of how to do this or how to handle that.  It just simply was.  Period. The main thing was to offer as many possibilities with as much kindness as possible. And, yes....to stay flexible.

A Wet Blanket

While Mom worked as a children's librarian at the New Vienna Elementary school for many years, she was equally active in community organizations. Burned into my memory is how she would return home after a meeting of one of these clubs grumbling about someone and consistently would say, "She's a WET BLANKET".  As a child I had no clue what it meant but I could tell from the tone of voice and facial expression that it was NOT a compliment. The website urbandictionary.com gives several interesting definitions, among which are: A person who seems determined not to have a good time and refuses to play or interact with others. Someone who generally has a negative attitude. Someone or something that could have utility but chooses not to. This is from the idea that a blanket could be a wanted item, but is no longer wanted when wet.

We've all been in situations where people have great ideas.  Risky ideas. Fiery ideas! Inevitably the "wet blanket" of the group---and you are fighting a long, uphill battle if there is more than one to deal with---tosses out their negative barbs. "We've never done it that way." "That's not a good idea."  "It's impossible, can't be done."  A wet blanket will smother a smoldering fire before it fully ignites.  Wet Blankets not only smother fires, they initiate NOTHING.  They accomplish even less.  Fires can be good and even productive, albeit hot. Don't give up when some well mean soul heaves a wet blanket on your fire.  Instead consider the mighty sequoia forest: when tested by fire, it drops new seeds onto soil that has become receptive because that which would choke out the seed previously was fried.  The sequoia stands tall and, because of the fire, actually reproduces better because of it. 

Or how does a fine craftsman remove dross from the gold or silver?  Yep, you guessed it.  Put a fire under it to make the impurities easier to remove.  

From my own experience, each Sunday as I lead worship, there are wet blankets.  As I sing and encourage others to do the same, there are those who refuse -- with a vengeance.  Not only do they not even attempt to open their mouths, they scowl!  But many years ago I decided not to be deterred by these persons:  actually it makes me more aware of how blessed I am to be God's child and be able to lift my heart and voice to praise Him.  When I think of all He has done for me, how on earth can I keep from singing?!

It is not a case for us of if but when some well-meaning soul will throw a dripping, wet blanket on the fire.  We can choose to give up and willingly let the embers die.  We can learn to be miserably comfortable, living a life of boring mediocrity. Not me!  I am going to pray that God, who is a CONSUMING fire, would set all of us ablaze with His holy love, in much the same way He did so for Moses in the burning bush.  In so doing, may we burn brightly with the light of hope that tomorrow can -- and will -- indeed be a better day!