Date Archives → January 2008

kitchen edition.

First, I would like to say that I just cut up a whole chicken for the first time. I have several observations to make:

1. Joints are a lot easier to find and cut through when a chicken is cooked.

2. The sound of a knife hacking through bone is really, really awful.

3. I think I cut the breasts in half the wrong way.

4. I do not have a future as a butcher.

5. But I did it.

Moving on…

Second, I made a bean soup yesterday that I absolutely am in love with. Ohmygoodness, did I love it.

As for Ryan… Let’s just say, I’ll probably have to just relive this soup in my dreams.

I cannot, however, keep this soup to just my dreams, and so I’m going to share the recipe. It is tres simple — so much so that it doesn’t even look like much. But trust me — the flavor is perfectly round and balanced and delicate and so good!

Tuscan White Bean Soup
from The Best Soups & Stews, by America’s Test Kitchen

6 oz pancetta (Italian unsmoked bacon), chopped into cubes
1 lb dried cannellini beans, rinsed and picked over (I used great northern, since that’s all my grocery sold)
1 lg onion unpeeled and halved pole to pole
4 medium garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 bay leaf
Salt and pepper
Olive Oil
1 small onion, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 sprig fresh rosemary

1. Cook pancetta in a large stockpot over medium heat until just golden, 8 – 10 minutes. Add 12 cups water, beans, halved onion, unpeeled garlic, bay leaf, and 1 tsp salt. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cover the pot partially, reduce the heat to low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the beans are almost tender, 1 – 1 1/4 hours. Remove the pot from the heat, cover, and let sit for 30 minutes (to let beans completely cook).

2. Drain beans, saving liquid. You should have 5 cups of broth; add water if you have less. Discard onion, garlic, bay leaf, and pancetta. Spread beans on a rimmed sheet to cool.

(Or, alternatively, discard onion and garlic and bay leaf, attempt to discard pancetta but realize it’s too small and who cares anyway, and put soup in the fridge. Continue the process tomorrow.)

3. Saute onion and garlic in stockpot. Add broth, beans, and liberal salt and pepper. Bring to boil over medium high heat. Add rosemary sprig, cover, and let sit, off heat, for 15-20 minutes. Remove sprig and serve.

(Or saute onion and garlic in a skillet, then add to the soup, and jump back into the recipe as written.)

Oh, the rosemary! the garlic! the creamy white beans and beautiful clear broth! Oh, yum!

Jameson…

…has begun to “read” to himself. He loves to plop down with the first book (or folded piece of paper!) he finds, open it, and babble in his book-reading voice. The fact that he uses this voice only when he reads makes me wonder if I have a book voice. Weird!

…decided that perfecting his walking abilities was taking too long, and has just moved ahead to running. He seems to have a level of grace and coordination similar to that of his cousin Bronwyn’s — although he has yet to trip while standing still, a feat she regularly astounds us with. Hearing his little uneven footsteps running through the house to come find me brings a smile to my face. I love it.

…has discovered sound effects. Ryan and I had a blast watching him push his little blue pickup truck around the living room while mimicking the sound of an engine. A boy’s innate ability to mimic cars, semi-automatic weapons, and bodily functions always astounds me.

…knocks on closed doors. I honestly wonder where he even learned this, since I obviously don’t go around knocking on our doors. It cracks me up.

…gives me tight squeezes and pats my back when he’s sad. I love it!

power [edit]*

Jameson and I enjoyed our little breakfast routine, which includes him emptying my kitchen cupboards while I read, pray, and journal. Then, just as I was formulating a great post full of inspirational thoughts, our power went out. Guess this area can’t quite cope with pouring rain and a bit of wind. As long as my house is built to survive earthquakes, I won’t complain.

I quickly started coming up with rainy-day-and-no-electricity plans: go to the library, make the Christmas returns, go to Ikea for fun because it takes so long just to walk through, etc. Well, the library was a success. The other plans, not so much: power was out in all of the stores, too.

Just when I thought I was going to freeze to death, go blind from trying to read in the rainy gloom, and be sick from filling up on candy because I didn’t want to open the refridgerator, the power came back on. Yay!

Ironically, the passage I had just read as the light flickered off this morning was Psalm 27: “The Lord is my light and my salvation.”

The Lord is my light.

If the Lord is my light, I pondered, then I know I’ll never be in the dark. He is forever the same, His presence surrounds me, and He is the light of my life.

And then the lights went out. Must be God thought it was a good day for object lessons.

[edit: I guess it’s not just a little bit of wind and rain. I’ll cut the electric company a little slack. I guess.]

two thousand and eight.

We’re back home in California. We woke up Tuesday morning to quite the snowstorm — and quite the nasty drive to the Ottawa airport. 3,000 miles later, we’ve left the snow far, far behind. Yesterday afternoon I drifted to sleep while listening to the whir of the neighbor’s weed whacker.

Yes, I said weed whacker. Because not only is there no snow here, the grass is still growing. In fact, as I inspected our little garden, I discovered buds. Wow.

*****

Somewhere in the tasks of laundry and packing, and the hassle of flying (because of course it was a hassle…), an old year ended and new one began. New years have always been a favorite opportunity to reevaluate, re-prioritize, and reorganize my life. This year I’ll confess: I’m lacking the motivation and inspiration. Starting a new year here, having just landed from a wonderful trip back home, is a bit anticlimactic. And I’m feeling more than a bit homesick.

So I find myself in a different place than most years. Instead of enthusiastically scribbling lists of goals, tackling closets of chaos, and overhauling my daily routines, I am lifting my eyes and asking to be renewed. Refreshed. Revived.

I am remembering that He has called me — called me to great things, yes, but also called me to Himself. I am also remembering that more than once I’ve said, “Lord, I will follow You anywhere — only let Your presence go with me.” And I’m remembering that California counts as an “anywhere,” and that His presence is with me.

I still hope to get to all of that usual January stuff. But for now, on this rainy afternoon, as my sweet little man plays at my feet, I’ll be content to let Him satisfy me.