Groovy Recipe: Lentil Kale Soup with Sweet Potato and Andouille

My dear friend and business partner recently gave birth to her fourth child, and I wanted to make a tasty, nourishing soup for her.  Lentil soup always makes me feel comforted and warm, and I always have dried lentils on hand, so I threw open the fridge to see what else I could throw in the pot.  Behold, a spicy, filling, extra-yummy soup that is so full of goodness, even the most exhausted Supermom will gain back some of her super powers after grubbing a bowl.

The wine was for me.

Lentil Kale Soup with Sweet Potato and Andouille

*serves 6(ish)

Ingredients

6 cups vegetable broth

1 cup dried lentils (I use green)

4 links cooked chicken andouille sausage, quartered and sliced

2 sweet potatoes, peeled and diced

2 cups kale, torn into small pieces

1 large onion, diced

1 cup carrots, diced

6 cloves garlic, minced

2 tbsp coconut oil

2 tsp turmeric

2 tsp smoked paprika

1 tsp nutmeg

Salt and pepper, to taste

Method

Heat the coconut oil in your stockpot over medium-high heat and add the onion.  Cook onion until translucent and it begins to just caramelize (about 10 minutes).  Pour in the broth and bring to a simmer.  Lower the heat to medium.  Add the lentils, sweet potatoes, and carrots.  Stir in the paprika, nutmeg, and turmeric.  Let simmer for 20 minutes, then stir in the sausage and garlic.  Let simmer another 10 minutes, or until the lentils and vegetables are tender.  Drop the heat to low and stir in the kale.  Simmer for 5-10 minutes, then remove from heat.  Season with salt and pepper.  Grub.

You can spice up this soup to whatever heat you like.  I didn't want it to be too spicy for the postpartum mama, because she's breastfeeding.  And if you've been a postpartum mama, you know that spicy food is not always kind to your lower half.

The soup came out great.  So great in fact, that my friend got exactly one bowl out of the batch and her husband Bogarted the rest.

Groovy Recipe: Cream of Asparagus Soup

Truth be told, June in the desert is not what one would call "soup weather."  But, I discovered a bunch of asparagus in the crisper drawer that was in desperate need of being cooked.  Immediately.  It had started to wilt slightly, so salad was out.  I looked on Pinterest and other websites for a good cream of asparagus soup recipe.  I looked at about 10, none of which struck my fancy.  So here's what I came up with (I served it with a slice of zucchini quiche):

Cream of Asparagus Soup

* 4-6 servings

Ingredients

1 lb fresh asparagus

1 medium onion, diced

4 large cloves garlic, roughly chopped

3 tbsp butter

3 tbsp olive oil

4 cups vegetable stock

1 cup dry white wine

1 cup cream

Salt

Pepper

Method

Trim the rough ends off the asparagus, then cut the remaining stalks into 2-inch pieces.

In a large sauce pan, melt the butter and olive oil over high heat.  Add the onion and garlic, season with plenty of salt and pepper, then saute over high heat for 15 minutes, or until it begins to caramelize.  Reduce the heat to medium and cook for another 10 minutes.  Pour in the wine to deglaze the pan, using a spoon to scrape up any browned bits.  Simmer the wine for a few minutes, then stir in the stock.  Bring to a simmer and add asparagus.  Simmer until the asparagus is tender, about 10 minutes.  Pour in the cream and bring back to a simmer.  Turn off the heat and use an immersion blender to puree the soup (if you don't have an immersion blender, you can use a regular blender - make sure to vent the lid.  Return the soup back to the pan after it's pureed).  Bring back to a simmer until the soup is heated through.  Season with salt and pepper, if needed.  Grub.

The toddler ate it!

Groovy Recipe: Strawberry-Banana Muffins

These are full-on hippie muffins: two fruits, full of fiber and protein, and CHIA!  Despite all that, they're delicious.  I promise.

So pretty, so delicious

Strawberry-Banana Muffins

* 18 regular-sized muffins

Ingredients

3 large, very ripe bananas, mashed

1 1/2 cups diced fresh strawberries

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup plus 1 tbsp coconut oil

2 eggs, slightly beaten

2/3 cup almond or coconut milk

1 tbsp apple cider vinegar

1 tbsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

1 cup unbleached flour

1 tbsp chia seed

2 tbsp uncooked quinoa

2 tbsp ground flax seed

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

Method

Pre-heat oven to 350.  Spray a muffin tin with coconut oil or olive oil.

Stir the chia and quinoa into the mashed banana and let sit for 10 minutes.  Sift together the remaining dry ingredients in a bowl.  Beat together sugar and coconut oil; stir in the eggs until well blended.  Add in the almond milk, vinegar, and vanilla, then stir in the strawberries.  Mix in the bananas until well combined.  Stir in the flour mixture just until moistened.

Spoon equal amounts of the batter into the muffin tin(s).  Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes (begin checking them after 20 minutes).  Cool in pan for five minutes, then remove the muffins.  Grub right away (no butter needed) or store in an airtight container up to three days.  

Tip: after you've sprayed your muffin tin (or loaf pan, casserole dish, cookie sheet, etc.) use a paper towel to wipe off the excess spray, before baking.  It keeps your pans from getting that gross, sticky, gunky residue that never, ever comes off (no matter what Jillee claims).

It Takes A Village, Seriously.

During my mommy group's monthly gathering yesterday, several of us commented on that old adage "It takes a whole village to raise a child."  That is the God's honest truth.  There is no way to (sanely) raise a child solely on your own.

Your village is not necessarily where you live.  It's your community, your family, your friends, everyone who helps you with the upbringing of your child(ren).  I've become that woman in the store who approaches the parent with the uncontrollable, screaming child, asking if I can help.  Sometimes, I get the look that says "Get the hell away, crazy lady."  But often, I get the look that says "Oh yes, thank God!"  We've all been there.  There are days where your child simply will not listen to reason and especially not to you.  But when Grandma, or Auntie, or Crazy Lady steps in, the kid simmers right down.  That's your village.

As a newly single mother, I'm still figuring out this solo babyraising business.  I hardly had time to figure it out as a co-parent, before I was thrust into doing it all on my own.  It is every bit as hard as other single parents claim.  Harder, actually.  In the last two months, I've had more bad days than good.  The good days are very good, but the bad days are soul-crushing.  I'm only being the slightest bit dramatic.  I often drop my head in both my hands and cry.  Fortunately, my parents have been extremely involved with taking care of both of us.  My sister-in-law has become a second mother to my Babydoll, and both of my brothers happily (and easily) fill the father-figure role.  My friends... oh, man.  I'd be lost without them.

Everyone needs a village, and not just for raising children.  Life is hard.  At times, it's so hard that it's ridiculous.  You need people on whom you can rely to pick you up when life has knocked you down.  Someone to call at 2 am who will answer their phone.  Someone to bring you a bottle of wine or a box of cupcakes.  And you definitely need someone who doesn't make you feel like a whiny crybaby when you unload all of your problems on them.  I have lots of those someones.  I'm a lucky girl.

The Widow's Lament

I'm gonna bitch for a minute, about some random shit that's been on my mind ("it's my blog and I can do what I want," if you will).  

People say truly comforting, supportive things when you've lost a loved one.  They come out of the woodwork to let you know that you are not alone in your grief, that they are thinking of you and praying for you.  Sympathy cards arrive in the mail, with powerful messages of love.  In your time of need, friends and family come to your aid, sit by your side, and just hold your hand or squeeze your shoulder.  They step in and take care of your child, without being asked, so you can fall apart for a minute or two.

Then, there are those people who say really shitty, insensitive things.  Like what, you ask?

"What did his body look like after he passed?"

I don't know.  You're seriously disturbed.

"Do you think he knew what was happening when he was dying?"

I hope not.  I'd imagine that would really suck.

"Oh, you weren't with him when he died?  That must be hard for you to live with."

Yeah, it pretty much consumes my thoughts every day.  Thanks.

"How much life insurance money will you get?"

None.  Why?  Did he owe you money?

"I don't know if cancer is what really killed him."

I'm pretty sure it was, since he had it all over his body and brain, and cancer's main goal is to kill you.

"He's in a much better place now."

How do you know?  Have you been?

"He'll always be watching over you."

I hope he's not while I'm pooping.

(I know a lot of people think that last one is comforting, but to me, it's creepy.  I don't want to be watched 24/7.  I hope Heaven is not just a big viewing room for "Big Brother: Earth Edition.")

And finally, there are those people who don't know what to say, so they just ignore you.  They won't look you in the face, they'll pass by you in the halls without acknowledgement, they'll whisper about you to another person then stop abruptly when you walk into the room.  That's the worst.  Does losing my partner mean that I'm branded with a scarlet W for the rest of my life?  I don't look good in red.

When someone you know is losing, or has lost, a loved one, the simplest thing to say is generally the best: "I'm sorry and I'm here for you."  That's it.  Trust me, that's all anyone needs to hear.  If you don't hear back from them for a few days, or even a couple weeks, it's okay.  When your husband, or anyone else you love, dies, it's pretty easy to lose track of time.  There are days when the only thing you can focus on is getting out of bed and feeding yourself, and remembering to respond to an email, or phone call, or Facebook message, or text, just isn't priority # 1.  But eventually, you'll catch up.

And you don't have to mope around as a grieving widow, forever in black (with that big scarlet W).  It's perfectly acceptable, wonderful even, to move forward with your life in whatever time frame suits you.  Missing someone doesn't mean you shut down.  Missing them means that you keep living, while a little bit of you, a tiny piece really, will always be looking for their face in a crowd or subconsciously expecting a phone call from them.

The thing about life is, no one gets out alive.  So live it.  And enjoy it while you got it.

Thou Shalt Not Wallow

Shit happens.  To everybody, at one point or another.  No one is immune.  Once we all accept that, it makes it a hell of a lot easier to deal with the shit.

I'm not a wallower.  Never have been.  I've had my moments, certainly, of brief wallowing, but I never linger in it.  I asked my mom (aka The Rock) if maybe I am just a little less sensitive than other people, a little more cold in the heart, or hard around the edges.  "No," she replied.  "We are just resilient people.  We're strong.  We bounce back pretty fast."

I sat back and thought on that awhile.  I think she's right.  Everyone in my family, we've all had our share of ups and downs, collectively and individually.  But none of us are broken.  None of us have become so damaged that we cannot move forward with our lives.  Many of my friends have been knocked down by life, too.  Everyone gets back up, brushes off the shit, and moves forward.  I'm surrounded by a very muscly bunch of folks.

My friend K, another rock in my life, sent me a quote and I can't recall the phrase exactly.  It was something along the lines of "everyone grieves in their own time frame" or "you can't grieve on anyone else's schedule."  How true is that?  Some people cling to their grief the rest of their lives.  Others give themselves a schedule ("I will get over it in exactly six months...one year...ten years.").  Some of us, me included, hold onto bits of it because it has become attached to the love we feel for those we are without.

None of that is wrong.  I can't judge anyone's grief, nor will I answer to anyone's judgement about mine.  We all, in our own time, move forward.  Not "on," just "forward."  I've found that my Babydoll propels me quite a bit.  Her young age means that she doesn't have full comprehension of what has happened to us.  She knows when Mama is sad, and my tears bring on her own.  In fact, she cries any time someone else does.  She's a very sensitive and attuned person.  My life's purpose is to make her happy, so wallowing in my grief simply will not do.  When I smile and laugh, she does, too.

And there it is.

Finding Our Way, Or How To Have Faith When Life Hurls Shit In Your Face

I haven't written in awhile.  A dear friend told me yesterday that she misses my blog.  My response to her was that I haven't been inspired, but that's not entirely true.  I generally try to share information that is relevant to my style of parenting and my lifestyle, and I always try to keep it upbeat.  My inspiration, of late, has been dark and melancholy, without a hint of sunshine anywhere.

My family has been through an unbelievable trauma.  I don't want to use the word "tragedy," because while our loss has been tragic, I don't consider it a tragedy.  But "trauma," that word fits.  Cancer struck our home and ripped it apart.  My dear, sweet daughter, my most precious charm, my angel, is without her father, and I am without my partner.  I will skip the details, because, quite frankly, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

What I've been working on is maintaining my faith.  My family has helped me tremendously.  The love within ours is fiercely protective and unconditionally accepting.  A hug and look from my mother reassures me that I will get through this, that I will undoubtedly pull myself together, and that life will absolutely go on.  The quiet strength and resolve of my dad lends itself to everyone in our family - some things don't need to be spoken.  They just are and always will be.  My youngest brother provides proof that laughter is the best medicine, and my other brother always demonstrates that hard work and perseverance, never giving up and never accepting "No," always pays off in the end.  My sweet sister-in-law gently lifts us up and brings us together in so many ways. My aunt gives the the tightest, most heartfelt hugs and small whispers of encouragement, and sometimes that is all you need to keep going.

And then there is my baby.  It is she who truly keeps me going, and it is she who reminds me that faith lives in my heart.  I do have faith that we will find our way together, and that we are, in fact, already finding it.  I've made some small strides in reclaiming my life in the last couple of weeks and one great big one is on the horizon.  I have faith in my higher power, in my loving family, in my amazing friends, and most importantly, in myself.

I hope that you will always have faith, too, in whatever form suits you, no matter what life hurls at you.