Sister Saturday Pumpkin Soup

It's time for Sister Saturday!

Super Sisters  Vanessa and Heather

 are throwing a soup party
and have invited folks to bring 

their best soup recipes

and come along.

I wanted to join the fun.

But which soup to bring?

Decisions, decisions…

Probably not what the sisters had in mind.

In truth, I didn't know what to bring. I thought about bringing chili, but honestly, there’s nothing at all special about my chili. I don’t even use dry beans. I thought of a few other soups too, but my soup making is mostly trial and error, emphasis on the error.   

So I decided to try a new recipe. See... the wonderful thing about a virtual pot luck is that it's visual.  Even if it actually tastes like rubber cement, no one is the wiser as long as it looks good. 

I can't possibly be the only one who thinks like that.

I decided to make pumpkin soup. Now, I've never made pumpkin soup before. In fact, I've never even eaten pumpkin soup before. I just had a notion that it would be an Octoberish thing to bring.

I found my recipe on pumpkinsoup.org

In level of  difficulty, it scores a “Debbie”. 

I just finished making it
and tasting it,

 and
It's good! 

 It’s great!

As in 

 I-can’t-believe-Debbie-made-this great...

Maybe this recipe thing is a good idea.

Coconut Pumpkin Soup with Curried Pecans

2T. EVOO
¼ cup chopped onions. I used sweet onions, of course.
3T. curry powder (reserve 1 tablespoon)
15 ounces pureed pumpkin
2 cups vegetable stock
3 T. pure maple syrup (reserve 1 tablespoon)
15 ounce can of coconut milk
¼ cup pecan halves
a dollop of whipping cream

So first….

Sautee the onions in the olive oil for 5 minutes
Whisk in
               2 T. curry powder
               Pumpkin
               Vegetable stock
               2 T. maple syrup
Simmer for 10 minutes.
Remove from heat.

Blend in food processor or blender
Return to the pot and add the coconut milk.
Simmer for about 10 more minutes.

Then...

Mix the remaining curry powder and maple syrup and coat the pecans. Toast coated pecans for 10 minutes at 375 degrees.

That's it. Seriously delicious.
Garnished with a little whipping cream and the pecans...

The best pumpkin soup I've ever eaten.

Of course...

 If you hippity hop over to the soup exchange, you will discover that our hostess Heather (You know, the one with the word "gourmet" in the title of her blog...that Heather)  has made...

Curried Pumpkin Soup

Yep. That's exactly the kind of thing that happens to me at a real pot luck. The gourmet cook brings the same dish.  Now, I'll have to do that embarrassing shuffle to the car with my full pot of untouched soup.

Just another day in paradise...

It's Just Not Orange

One night not long ago, we attended the (very) last event for one of the daughter’s many activities. Now, normally, such a thing would leave me a blubbering heap of sentimentality…being forced a step closer to that ever looming empty nest and all. This evening, however, left me just plain irked. I’ll consider it a great victory in brevity that I omit detail. Suffice it to say that a change in leadership had turned what was once a beloved pastime into an exercise in futility and frustration.


So after choking down the meal from a local restaurant (which ought to be called “The Heart Attack”) and doing the smile and nod throughout the entire evening, we headed home, the daughter in her car and the husband and I in ours. Our tires were barely touching asphalt when I started yakking… Every frustration which had been masquerading behind that disingenuous nod and smile came spilling out in one long wok wok wok wok wokkkkkk…..

Finally, I took a breath.

The husband seized the opportunity. He reached out, grabbed my hand, and said, “Honey. Stop. It’s over.”

Well, that kind of irked me more. Here I was, trying to spill my frustrated guts in a safe place where the daughter would not hear, and he was giving me the code words for “I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

But then he repeated it, this time in a way that my oddball brain could process. He said, “Let it go. It’s not orange.” And I knew exactly what he was trying to say. Orange, as I’ve said, is my theme color for 2010. It’s my theme color for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that, with God’s provision, it will be the school color for both daughters next year. Simply put, orange is the future.

Very shortly the red and black of high school will be a thing of the past. And let’s face it, no matter how much we sentimentalize high school, it is less than ideal. It’s a difficult time with emotional challenges. Frankly, some parts of high school just need to be brushed, like dust off of the bottom of the feet, and we need to move on...toward the orange.

I have always left open boxes on the shelves of the girls’ closets where they could stockpile mementos. We call them our memory boxes. The girls are allowed to cram anything into those boxes that their hearts desire, but when they overflow...

like this...

It’s time to pull them down and sort them out. At that point, we save only those  mementos deemed valuable enough for preservation. Those, we box… and label… and send up to Innie Paradise. (Well, of course)

It has always been a little comical to me to see what each girl deemed worthy of the save. They save papers and certificates and ticket stubs and all kinds of little trinkets. Miss Whimsy had a goofy little habit of saving favorite hats. One thing was constant: The things deemed valuable always made them smile. I mean… Who saves the worst paper he ever wrote? Or the lowest test grade?

I, on the other hand, have crammed so many red and black memories into this open heart of mine that it is full to overflowing. Most bring a smile, but some... well, they just leave me irked. It’s long past time to do a mommy memory sort and toss and preserve only the memories of value. The rest are just details, not worth the saving, and definitely not orange.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ~ Philippians 4:8

A Different Drum

If a man does not keep pace with his companions perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears however measured or far away.
                                                                                                                   Henry David Thoreau


I love to watch the world meander through the calendar color wheel as we dutifully follow those preset color rules. The reds and greens of December give way to happy white snowmen on backgrounds of blue for January. July is colored with red, white, and blue. March is dyed green. February, of course, bursts forth in one huge scarlet explosion created by the domination of red with hints of pink here and there for contrast. It’s everywhere: red cards at the Hallmark, red hearts of candy, red balloons, bouquets of red roses, or red carnations, or red tulips arranged in their whimsical little red vases and tied with their red bows.

So I wonder what the florist thought when the husband ordered my valentine flowers this year. I wonder if he had to repeat himself for clarity…or if he was gently nudged by the order taker that he must have missed the memo… or if he was warned with a condescending smirk that he was making some sort of garish valentine faux pas.

Because in the midst of that beautiful scarlet explosion,

 my valentine flowers looked like this.

They arrived with a card that simply said, “I got that clue”.

"I got that clue” is familyspeak birthed when Miss Whimsy was a little girl. In the middle of a frustrated mommy rant over some chaos I’ve long forgotten, I looked at her and said, “Get… a… clue.” She schlumped off to attend to whatever had caused the commotion and muttered, “I got that clue. I didn’t like that clue.” The cuteness of the moment diffused the situation, as The Practical One and I fell into giggles. From that point on, “I got that clue” is our family’s way of saying, “I get it.”

Oddball though I might be, the husband gets me completely, and he knows what makes me smile. So he asked them to add a little yellow to the red and make it orange.

How pretty is that?

I got that clue too. Here’s my gift to him, which included, among other things, some dried orange fruit dipped in chocolate. (I gave him some dipped strawberries too, but they don’t fit with this post so...)

So we danced through Valentines Day to the beat of a different drummer. Next on deck is St. Patrick’s Day. I plan on following the rules then, though. After all, I work in an elementary school. And I don’t want to get pinched.

Tales of the Traveling Teacher Box

Have I mentioned that I love being back in the classroom? It’s exhausting, but it gives me that sense of part time purpose without the full time frustration. The one frustration that I DO have about being back in the classroom would be that confounded teacher mess that follows me around my house like toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

When you teach part time out of a glorified bookroom, all the planning and creative teachery must be done at home. Usually, I carve out time one day a week to do mine. That means that the rest of the time, all the stuff which I had stashed in a tote, behind a door, in Innie Paradise has to be flopped out front and center for me to use.

The problem is that I don’t really have a space to spread out and work. So it travels. It meanders down from the attic to the den closet where it escapes out into the den and creeps into the kitchen. Inevitably, it takes root in the dining room, spreading across the table, to the chairs, down to the floor, and eventually going to seed in the dining room carpet. Oh, I try to prune it back a little, but it just grows in another direction. The teaching mess to this house is like the kudzu vine that ate the south. I don’t control it; it controls me. This causes irritation and frustration when I want to actually use the dining room for its intended purpose and a sense of panic and apology preparation every time I hear the front door bell ring.

Because when a guest drops by, this is what he might see:

On the table

On the chairs

On the floor

So last week, I decided to go on kudzu offensive. I planted a better garden on my dining room table. I figured, if I set a lovely table, my teaching kudzu would not propagate. So, I added two more orange chargers to match Grama's table cloth and set the table for four. Not only is it prettier, but it’s ready for the weekend meal to boot.

Mission accomplished.

Now, when a guest comes to the front door and looks to his right, he sees this:

Of course, when he looks to his left, he sees this.

To be continued…obviously...

A little list update and a table for two

#90. Needlepoint tablecloths made by my grandmother

When we were younger, my grandmother began making tablecloths for each of her grandchildren. We would thumb through her little book of patterns and choose the style and color scheme that we wanted. When it was our turn, she would make it. In 1982, I chose mine; it was a forget- me- not pattern. That year, Grama was diagnosed with colon cancer. By the time they found it, it was too late to save her. She died just a few months later, never finishing the tablecloth that she had intended for me.


My forget-me-not still sits in a box, unfinished. I would consider finishing it myself were it not for the fact that I am the uncontested world’s worst hand stitcher. Oh, I’ve tried -repeatedly- to master that art, but either because I’m predominantly left handed or (likely) because I’m expedient and careless, my handiwork never quite follows the desired pattern and ends looking somewhat like those self- interpretive little ink blots on a rorschach test. And that's the front of the piece, not the back.

Being the baby of the family and the only tableclothless grandchild, everyone took pity on me. For Christmas that year, my brother gave me his own table cloth. Mom gave me one of hers as well, and when Grandpa died a few years later, I got the only one that Grama had ever made for herself. It’s my favorite.

I love my made~with~ love tablecloths, but I have never- not a single time - used one until Saturday.

Aside from the obvious fear that I would stain or ruin them in some way, the main reason that I haven’t used them is that, frankly, I have never been able to set a pretty table with them. I may not be the world’s best cook, but I do love to set a pretty table. Since Grama’s table cloths were made in the 70s, they tend to be those quirky colors from that era, colors like orange and avocado and turquoise.

My eighties era dishes have colors like colonial blue, sage, and rose. I’ve tried using my simple white dishes, but they just look drab and pathetic against those tablecloths.

And that’s how Grama’s linens ended up on THE LIST.

Saturday, when the husband and I were home alone for the evening, I decided to try a table for two with Grama's tablecloths…my favorite one, the one (of course) with all the orange in it.

I tried setting off the white plates with gold chargers, but I still didn't like it. Since my chargers are just cheapo ones that I scored for a dollar apiece when junking at Big Lots, I decided to sacrifice two of them for the cause. I thought about painting or decoupage but chose instead to make them semi- reusable by applying the same principle that I would use if starching fabric to a wall.

So I after I traced a little pattern, cut some fabric, painted a few coats of Kilz and some gold paint, and starched some orange fabric to the inside ring, I ended up with a bright orange and gold charger to set off those plain white dishes.

I think I like this. When I want to remove or change the fabric, all I have to do is peel it off and apply a new one. I just may have found one way to use some of the other fabric on THE LIST too, especially all of those seasonal fabrics of good intention which sit unused… in a box… behind a door in innie paradise.

So I set the table.

And then, the husband helped me out 

with a little Scottish tablescaping.

Oh yes, he did. Bright yellow butter wannabe and store brand parmesan pretender… right on my whimsical orange table for two…. with candles no less…

Men.
Sometimes, they just don’t get it.

Meals on Wheels

So yesterday, for the second time in less than a week, I found myself fixing a comfort meal to bring to a friend. To be honest, taking comfort food usually sends me into a tailspin. Oh, I like to do it. It’s just that it causes anxiety around the old home place when I do. Frankly, I’m just not a great cook. My heart is Betty Crocker, but my hands are a little more Sara Lee. On top of that, we’re just not big casserole folks around here. Neither the husband nor the girls like their food all mushed together in one dish. We’re people of simple tastes – meat on the grill, veggies in the steamer, and a baked potato in the oven. Unfortunately, that kind of a meal just doesn’t travel well. So when I need to bring a mobile meal, I go into recipe hunt overdrive. You know, it’s very difficult to be a moderate cook when you’re a type “A” overachiever who is her own worst critic. I’m always afraid that my home cooked love offering leaves the hapless victims running from table to Subway with a pit stop at the dumpster along the way. That causes me anxiety.

I’ve tried so many combinations of the meal on wheels that I’ve lost count. Usually, I team up with my sister, who likes to cook, and we do a meal together. It’s those times when I have to fly solo, however, that cause me comfort meal consternation. That’s what I’ve had to do this week.

Enter the orange theme. I’ve decided that one of the best things about having a theme for the year is that it gives me a focus for trying new recipes. I am constantly checking my websites (love allrecipes.com), cookbooks, and magazines for interesting ways to use anything orange, either in color or flavor.

Well, eureka. I have found a really good meal to take to others… and it’s orange inspired.

The recipe that I took yesterday is for Orange Marmalade Chicken What I like about this meal is that it fulfills just about every qualification of a great meal upon the wheel.

*It’s easy; therefore even I can do it (check)

*It has very few ingredients (check), and…

*It has the type of ingredients which can be hoarded on the pantry shelf to be ready at a
    moment’s notice (double check)

*It combines both the meat and side dish in one entrée, thereby eliminating the need for
    yet another stressful decision. (check)

*It is pretty healthy and can be adapted to restricted diets (check)

*It can be taken uncooked since the bake time is less than 30 minutes (check)

*My finicky family of non mush meal eaters likes it (check)

Paired with these copper pennies (yes, more orange)

and a side salad, it’s a complete meal. OK, no dessert, but it’s a start. For my next thing, I’ll find a delicious orange inspired cake to go with it. Baby steps.

Now, if I can just get a better handle on the packaging and delivery thing…

Rhymes With Orange

I guess it's because of my years in the classroom, but I find that, for me, deciding some sort of theme at the beginning of anything gives me direction, creativity, and organization. If you pick a theme, the abstracts become so much more concrete. Decisions are so much easier to make. Life, in general, is just a little more fun.  So, I've decided on a theme color for 2010. The theme color  is.... orange.

I love the color orange.  I love every hue of it, from peach to melon to tangerine to (my personal favorite) terra cotta. Orange is a happy color. It's a step out of the box color. Not everyone likes orange. Not everyone can wear orange. It's sort of the oddball of the color wheel. It makes pefrect sense that I would like it. I'm sort of the oddball in the color wheel of life.

So orange is my theme color for 2010.  To  start the year, I made a Happy New Year basket of goodies for my mom. Nothing fancy, just some orangey stuff all stuck together with orangey decorations.

I bought some oranges, orange juice, and orange marmalade. Mom loves  peanut butter and marmalade sandwiches on raison bread. I made a tangelo pomander and wrapped it in yellow netting to match Mom's yellow kichen. I tied it with a little orange, of course. It bursts with the fragrance of citrus mixed with clove. I love that smell.  I really need to make one for my own kitchen next.

I tried a new recipe for Cream Cheese Orange Bread. Absolutely yummy. It's a keeper.  All in all, a simple but fun way to start the new year.  I think this theme color thing could be really fun.

  

Note to self: ORANGE does not photograph so well. 

Oh well, neither do I.