Meringues

I found an awesome recipe for Meringue cookies in my magic cookbook, and though I'd share what an amazing desert I made. I whipped 3 egg whites, 1/4 tsp cream of tartar, and 1/2 cup brown sugar until stiff peaks appeared. If you desire, you can fold in some pecans, but I did not desire. Spoon into 8 or so globs and smooth with the back of a spoon. It is best to put them on parchment paper, because they are very sticky when baked. Bake at 250 for one hour, then turn off heat and allow to sit in warm oven for 2 hours.



Fill the completed meringues with a fruit of your choice. James's choice was peaches.




Top with a scoop of ice cream, or a dollop of whipped cream.



And you will have the best dessert ever. Also, we ran out of fruit and put some Nutella in the grove with a scoop of ice cream. Not as healthy as the fruit, but just as tasty.

James Needed a Haircut.

My New Friend

The warm weather has brought out all sorts of wildlife in my own backyard. We have enough bees to start our own farm, and there is never a shortage of squirrels. However, there is one little fellow that seems to have befriended me. Many of you may remember my escapades with trying to capture him in the shower.

Well, I'm most positive this is the same little critter from before. Every day, he sneaks along the deck right up to the back door, lifts himself up on the step, and spends a few moments looking around inside. He must be searching for that darn cat that caught him last year. When he is quite satisfied that there is nothing to fear, he scuttles along his way and picks up the crumbs we drop when we barbecue. I think I need to name him.

My Cake Wreck

I had everyone over for a barbecue at my house to present James with his birthday present of a new charcoal smoker and grill. Because it was an unofficial birthday celebration, I made a cake. James requested a strawberry cake with kiwi icing. The internet gave me a recipe, and we ate one delicious cake.

Leah posted a photo of her cake, which looked something like this:


Expertly frosted, garnished with fresh strawberries and a dollop of cream. Probably tasted delicious.

I have never been very good at cakes. I'm finally at the point in my life where I can get it out of the pan in one piece. These are the reasons my cake came out something like this:



I'll work on that. For now, I'll stick with cupcakes.

A Summer Garden

Spring has sprung in the rolling hills of Central Pennsylvania. I spent my entire weekend out in the yard, preparing for all the big plans I have for this summer.

To begin, I dug a hole that was intended to be large but turned out quite small. It is my intention to gradually fill this hole with my organic food waste so I may turn it into the beautiful black soil I discovered underneath a large pile of leaves next to the house. A project that I anticipated taking an hour turned into three. The first part was easy, digging the grass out in clumps. The six inches below that was easy, lifting solid shovels of dirt. Then I hit the layer of rocks. I spent way too much time leveraging fist sized stones out of the ground. To make matters worse, the nice rich soil turned to yellow clay. It was hot out, the shovel was getting heavy, the rocks seemed to get bigger, the clay more dense. I would have like to dig another half foot down, but I am happy with my organic compost hole.

After digging, I went up on the deck and swept the leaves out of all the corners and crevices. A nice little five minute project, and nothing too special. I noticed when I swept the leaves off the deck, there was a huge piling of leaves all around the deck and house. My original plan was to leave them and allow them to decompose and mulch the lawn naturally. But this is not Utah, and things don't dry up and break apart in a matter of days. The leaves were beginning to kill the grass, so I decided to pull out the rake and go to. Plan B was to take all the leaves and put them in the unused flower bed next to the garage so they could decompose there and make that beautiful black soil I saw them becoming. Then I realized just how many leaves were in the yard. It was three times as much as what I used to collect in Utah throughout the entire fall, and I was only halfway through the back yard. My neighbors came to the rescue with a large tarp so I could rake the leaves onto it and drag them to the curb. This is why Pennsylvania has curbside pickup.

Throughout the day, curious neighbors kept observing my work from their decks. I guess it's been a while since anyone really took care of this rental property. I'm going to dig up an 8-foot by 10-foot patch in the front yard and begin a garden next week. I love fresh food, and I love gardens. Being in the sun all day sure made me happy.



Today, I went out after breakfast to empty my peels and stems into my new compost hole. I leaned over and poured out the bucket, shaking rigorously until the last little stems left the bucket. When I straightened up, James was on the deck watching me, a big grin on his face. "I'm staring at you like a creeper," he said. Said I, "Oh, you like watching me dump the compost?" To which he replied, "I like to watch you in your natural environment." "Where, the wild?" "Yes, the wild."

I look forward to a summer of grilling and barbecuing at my deck parties, and James watching me take care of my wild. It's going to be a great summer.

The Best Kind of People

At my job, I meet people of all sorts from all walks of life. We've seen celebrities, musicians, actors, directors, cast, crew, poets, singers. I always welcome an opportunity to speak with those traveling through our theatre. Occasionally, I am blessed to meet that "rainbow in the clouds," as Maya Angelou put it, and see the true worth of an unknown man.

This past week, I was enticed in conversation with a man who introduced himself as simply "C.W." He is a 57 year old colored man from Virginia, working for retirement and nearing the end of his road. The animation with which he told his story was matched only by the enthusiasm of Gary, a Washington, DC man himself. I am humbled in the presence of a great character such as C.W., and would like to relate what I can of his story so you may know a little about one of the most special people to walk this earth.

C.W. was born in Virginia, and there he stayed. He's been in love with his wife since the day he met her, and his gaze has never strayed. They married, and both attended college despite having a baby girl and little income to speak of. "There were times when we was so broke we couldn't even afford the tears to cry with." I let him know that I understood the feeling, as I am going through the financial struggles of college and adulthood. He said, "Sugar, you just gotta look at the good times and know that they'll never stop no matter how broke you go." C.W. and his wife managed to both graduate, rotating classes so that one of them would always be home to take care of the baby and building up a close group of friends to support each other when times got too hard.

His wife is a lawyer, and he's been through his share of careers. He owns a bus driving company that hauls celebrities for cross-country tours. He's taken care of all the big name celebrities, including personally driving the bus for Barak Obama during the Presidential campaign. C.W. has been through the entire United States, but was barred from driving Maya Angelou to one of her lectures in Canada because he fought a few Canadians and a security guard at the border patrol when he was 17. His partner had to take over for the night.

Having built his company from scratch, he take great care and pride in his work. Gary asked whether C.W. and his partner would be waiting in the bus or going to the hotel during the lecture. "No, sir," replied C.W., "I stay with Miss Angelou from beginning to end." His heart is as big as the bus he drives, and he put forth the greatest love and respect for his aging and ailing client. I only wish I could match it.

"I been working for 37 years or more now," he said. And work is putting it lightly. Five years ago he built his dream house for his wife, who swiftly through him out of his man cave because she didn't like the men smoking their cigars in the house. He's currently fixing the room above the garage so he can still have his personal space in the house without upsetting his wife. He's never stopped working to make her happy, and I don't believe he ever will.

Much like my own mother, C.W. is finished raising his own babies and has been reaping the benefit of being the Grandaddy. His oldest granddaughter is a senior in college, studying to be a specialized nurse. She goes to school full time, works more than 30 hours a week to support herself, and asked C.W.'s help in purchasing a conservative older model car so she could get around. He told me he was so proud of that girl that he went out and bought her a brand new Volkswagen bug. "My son was so upset about me buying that car, but I just told him that girl is workin' hard and she deserve that brand new car when all she asked for was a little help with an old piece o' junk." That granddaughter must be his one pride, because only his wife gave him that same twinkle in his eyes when talking about her.

I was very sad when our conversation was cut short because I was called to take my place for work. I knew there would not be another opportunity to talk with C.W., and I will likely never see him again. He is truly a rainbow in the clouds.

Chicken Noodle Soup

James gave me the cold that he and Jacob had last week. I had hoped to avoid it, but refused to stop kissing him. It's my own fault I suppose. As much as being sick sucks, it does have one redeeming quality: chicken noodle soup.

Now, I've been spoiled my whole life with all these natural ingredients and homemade goodness. But you can get the same thing in the can, right? My roommate had a can of "Healthy Choice" chicken noodle soup, boasting 8 grams of protein, 100 calories, and 460 mg of sodium. I decided to compare the ingredients to what I was making in my crockpot. Take a look at this:

Chicken broth, chicken breast with rib meat, carrots, enriched egg noodles (durum wheat flour, water, whole egg solids, egg white solids, niacin, ferrous sulfate, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid), celery, less than 2% of: modified corn starch, flavor, salt, autolyzed yeast extract, sugar, modified rice starch, rendered chicken fat, potassium chloride, isolated soy protein, maltodextrin, guar gum, xanthan gum, sodium phosphate spice, beta carotene citric acid, disodium inosinate, and guanylate.

If you couldn't tell, that was the list of things contained in a one-serving sized can. In my own soup, listed in order they were thrown in the pot:

Onion, garlic, celery, carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, chicken breast (cooked in butter), potatoes, water, salt, spice, egg noodles( unbleached unbromated flour, eggs, water, salt), peas, and corn.

I could see getting picky and saying that I did, in fact, put the chicken fat in when I cut up the cooked breast and dumped it in and some of my spices (I'm looking at you, sodium chloride) may very well be some of those scientific sounding chemical names. But I still like the look of my ingredients much better. It's just what I need to cure what I have.



I also took the opportunity to bake a new loaf of bread. Fresh baked bread is one of my favorite things in the entire world. When times are good, I'm making some every other week. I still had half a loaf left from a week or two ago, but I figured it would be stale by now and I would pour some broth over it to make stuffing. Imagine my delight when I picked up the aluminum foil package and felt the plush bread give way under my strong grasp. Unfortunately, when I unwrapped the loaf, the top had molded over. I suppose I still get a fresh loaf tonight.

I love bread dough. Most people, especially in my generation and of my age group, have never even seen bread in its raw and uncooked form. When my roommate Angela was in the kitchen while I baked, I implored her to try a pinch of dough. She gave it a disgusted look, turned her nose up, and refused to try. I was very surprised! This is a delight, a delicacy even. Today, my roommate Lisa was interested in learning to make it. I asked if she's ever tried the dough. She said no, so I took a pinch and offered her a pinch. She said it tasted good, but I know she doesn't love it as I have loved it. I grew up eating this stuff! My mom made that dough practically every weekend for the entirety of my childhood. It's like home to me.

I guess that's just what cooking it to me. Home. I am greatly saddened that so many people will never know the happiness I know in the kitchen. A lot of friends say their mothers are great chefs and cook so well, and I get very disappointed when I see these ladies in action, opening cans and dumping bags of frozen veggie mixes. Where did all the magic go?

I solemnly vow to keep the magic of freshness, raw ingredients, wholesome cooking, and love of food alive in my kitchen for now and forever until the end of time. Amen.