The Road Goes Ever On and On...

When Tool Guy and I first married, one of the favorite forms of entertainment was jumping in our Plymouth Fury--nicknamed "Polly"--and running the roads...just seeing what was beyond the next bend. Needless to say, that practice is curbed these days, along with the vehicle most of the time. Unfortunately, it isn't only the price of gas that has kept us burning the home fires...lack of convenience foods tends to take the spontaneity out of things. We do day trips from time to time, but only with care and planning. I tend to overpack for those occasions, since I have this dread fear of getting lost or breaking down somewhere and not having safe food to eat. This week, a friend expressed frustration at her own family's particular food issues at times controlling their activities. At times? For us, that would be just about all the time. It certainly limits the scope of our treking.

It makes it particularly challenging, then, when travel is mandatory. Tool Guy, who disguised as mild-mannered Safety Guy in his day job, has to attend training sessions a couple of times a year that are somehow never close to home. More like the other side of the country and he's grounded from flying. In the past, Amtrak has been an attractive choice. "Let someone else do the driving" kind of thing, and for a few years, they did a reasonably satisfactory job of accommodation. Unfortunately, in this day of "cost containment"--which usually means "scaling back on quality"--the last Amtrak trip meant that there was very limited safe food to eat and absolutely nothing do-able on the breakfast menu. All prepackaged stuff. Nothing like being trapped in a steel box for three days with no food, eh?

This year, he's driving. But restaurant reliability is a very dicey thing. Anything that is a chain is doomed to the same fate as other prepackaged fare. Anything that is not a chain is a roll of the roulette wheel. The Russian Roulette wheel. He shared with me that he is singularly tired of getting contaminated every time he takes a trip. Toward that end, he acquired a small crock pot and a game plan for this trip. And I've been playing around in the kitchen, working on "road food" toward the goal of us being able to expand our horizons and find some elbow room. Lots of ideas swirling around and this seemed a good time to start working on application. This is the first one to go on my list.

A couple of themes that have been running through my attempts at "cooking dangerously" these days are grain-free and sprouting. We're trialing beans in this corner of the Shire and sprouting seems to be the best way to make them as digestible as possible. Many of the less desirable...um...attributes of beans disappear when they have been sprouted before processing. The idea of making bean tortillas popped up when I was trying to think of a way to svengalli the Hobbits into eating enough beans to register if they react or not. They could eat tortillas by the stack if I made enough of them. Lots of nutrients and certainly better than rice flour.

The beans need to be soaked overnight and then sprouted (the technically correct term for this is "germination") for about three days or until a "tail" emerges to about the length of the bean. I run these through the pressure cooker for a mere two minutes once pressure has been reached. After a quick trip through the food processor, I mix in a spoonful of sourdough starter and leave in the fridge for a day or two.

Black Bean Tortillas

1 1/2 cups bean paste
1/2 - 3/4 cups tapioca starch flour
2-5 T melted lard
2-3 t guar gum
1 t salt
Extra lard for cooking

In mixer, using a dough hook (one of the rare times that gluten free baking requires a dough hook), mix the dry ingredients with the melted lard and slowly work in the water until incorporated. The dough should be dry enough to work with your hands. Break off a ball of dough and roll into a ball. Using sheets of baking parchment or wax paper, flatten in a tortilla press or roll out with a rolling pin.

In cast iron skillet over medium low heat, melt more lard. Place tortillas one at a time into the skillet, browning for a minute or so until it starts to brown and bubble. Flip tortilla and cook the other side for another couple of minutes.

Best eaten warm, but these can be frozen and reheated later.

"'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.'"

Maybe having a safe food supply will make going out the door a little less of a dangerous digestive business...

Breatharian Revisited

Our foods, like our lives, are works in progress. Nothing is static, at least not for long. And being an inveterate tweaker, I'm constantly playing with the variables. One of the beauties of hanging out on food lists is that there are other food geeks who love to tweak as much as I do. They often come up with ideas that jump start me off in a new direction or affirm the germ of an idea that has been fermenting in the back of my mind.

A few months ago, one of those tweakers mentioned cold ferments in relation to sourdough breads. I had noticed that when I keep my starter in the refrigerator, not only do I not have to feed it as frequently, it also doesn't taste as...well...sour. Don't get me wrong. I like a tangy bread. But then, I have other aesthetics to please. The ones that are shorter than me. What can I say? They outnumber me. Oookay...no sour sourdough. Got it. So I keep my starter in the refrigerator. But TLS was talking about keeping the whole thing in the refrigerator. All the time. It took me a while before I could wrap my brain around it. Sometimes the gluten/gluten-free barrier makes my brain shut down.

Then I decided why not? Let's cook dangerously. I started making up my bread the night before and just shoving it in the refrigerator until the morning. Then I'd pull it out, pop it into the oven at 100* for a couple of hours or until it rose to my satisfaction and baked as usual. Good bread. Really, really good bread.

Then a few weeks ago, she recommended this book, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois. And I'd like to recommend it as well. Just let me say up front, it's a bread book. And it isn't gluten-free. But this book has a fine attention to detail. As I read through the book, I found myself nodding in agreement, because my experience in the kitchen confirmed what they were instructing. But they've written it down in such a way that organizes it and explains everything, including how to adjust the bread in order to change the texture in the final product. They talk about "slack" dough making a better crumb than a dough that must be kneaded by hand. And guess what, Breatharian? Gluten free dough is best when it is slack, so this entire idea is well suited to the gluten free bread.

They spend a couple of pages talking about how wetter doughs will yield a "custard" crumb, which is a desirable texture in bread. I can avow and affirm that this is indeed true and, while they attribute this quality to the gluten in the bread, I can also avow and affirm that gluten free bread is able to achieve its own "custard" crumb. Perhaps not to the gluten-oriented palate, but to the Breatharian one, the texture is heavenly. All of the Hobbits, including the tallest one whose palate still bears the memory-taint of gluten, noticed and commented on the marked difference in the quality of the bread after doing a long rise, cold ferment. Bug pulled out a slice of day-old bread and inquired, "Did you bake this today?" Poking an inquiring finger into the slice, I felt it give under my finger, then spring back. "Nope. But it sure feels like I did." He spread ghee on it and devoured it without even considering toasting it. How many gluten free breads can you say that about?

In the past year, since the Glutenator laid the groundwork for the sourdough bread and made me believe gluten-free sourdough was possible, I've been tweaking the basic recipe to improve the texture and longevity of the loaf. The Glutenator once observed that Martha Washington's recipes called for a great deal of eggs...many more eggs than contemporary recipes require. She theorized a couple of reasons for this: 1) everyone raised chickens and eggs were ubiquitous and 2) wheat flour of the day was lower in gluten than current strains of wheat.

Building on the theory that more eggs provides more structure for flours that have less gluten, I've added more egg whites to my recipe. Also, having discovered a much cheaper source for guar gum, I'm adding it with abandon to my recipes. Both of these do wonderful things for improving the texture of the bread.

I'm experimenting with the outer limit of how long a loaf of bread can rise in the refrigerator before the yeast cycle is exhausted. Hertzberg and Francois recommend no longer than five days for a gluten bread and I'm theorizing that a gluten-free bread would probably not sustain itself for that long. Currently, I've allowed bread to ferment for up to 48 hours and still turned out a very successful loaf. I've been trying working toward finding the exhaustion point, but it is difficult to stay that far ahead of the Hobbit appetite. But still I try...

Almost Everything Free Sourdough Bread (v. 2.0)

Starter:

2 cups gluten-free flour
2 cups kefir-fermented apple juice

Mix thoroughly and let stand for 24 hours.

In a bowl, measure out:

1/2 cup tapioca starch flour
1/2 cup potato starch flour
1 teaspoon salt
3-4 teaspoons guar gum

In a mixer, whip up 6 egg whites until frothy.

Into the meringue, pour:

1/3 cup olive oil
3 egg yolks
1 tablespoon maple syrup
2 cups sourdough starter

Mix in dry ingredients. This yields a rather thin batter for a bread. It will be about the consistency of toothpaste, but not spreading out with the ease of pancake batter. Pour into bread pan and return to the refrigerator for a minimum of 8 hours or overnight. Remove to a warm oven to rise. The dough may have a skin on top of it. I judge that the bread has risen sufficiently when the skin has stretched to cracking around the edges and the dough underneath takes on a more liquid appearance. Bake at 350* for 1 hour or until done.

This is a book well worth peeking in to. I've got my eye on a few recipes in it that might just be tweakable for a Breatharian. Tool Guy has been yearning for foccaccia and reminisces about the batches we used to buy at the farmer's market up the road from us. It just might happen, Guy.

It will take an experienced eye to be able to sort out the tips and techniques that the Breatharian can use and those that are specific only to gluten bread, but it is well worth playing around with and doing some of your own cooking dangerously. Let's hear it for the food geeks who sit around and email each other with their latest discoveries and inspirations! Thanks, TLS!

Staying By the Stuff

Is everyone campaigned out yet? I know I am...stuff still manages to leak through despite the fact that I've been on a media blackout since Hurricane Katrina. That experience certainly jaded me about news coverage. It was the one time that I had intimate background knowledge of a hot media topic. And for all of the finger pointing, no one was pointing in the right direction. It made me wonder. If they missed so very much stuff on this, on what other stories are they skimming over details and cherry-picking facts? All of them? Most of them? I decided that it wasn't necessary to hear all of the issues or even current events debated and discussed into the most infinite minutae in order to make my decisions and sort of hunkered down into a kind of bunker attitude. Abandoning my six-hour-a-day talk radio habit, I turned my attention toward smaller matters: my own patch of blue.

It was gratifying to recently discover someone whose work I so respect voicing a similar train of thought. Chris Rice explores the idea that our greater center of power is not with our vote, but in the lives that we touch on a daily basis. Which is a rather exciting thought when we really dig into what that means. Our votes are each a single one in so many millions. So easy to get lost, overwhelmed in the slippery shifts of public opinion. We drop our bottle into the ocean and hope it gets found. And when there isn't much to pick from, then what is that vote really worth anyway? Don't get me wrong...I'm still voting! I know that each vote counts. How much louder our voice speaks, though, on an intimate level. When we're face-to-face and eye-to-eye, our words have more weight and make a surer difference.

Clearly, there is power on a global level and there are people who are called to serve there. Clearly, I'm not one of those. But there's comfort in knowing that being the keeper of the small and insignificant things has just as much value as being a mover and a shaker. "But as his part is who goes down to the battle, so shall his part be who stays by the stuff; they shall share alike."* Chris is right...our power is in the lives that we brush up against--and connect with--every minute between the four year voting cycle.

It's always exciting when connecting in a conversation with someone inspires a train of thought that ends up in a new dish that all of the Hobbits enjoy. Another homeschooling mom and I were recently discussing the satisfactions of good sourdough when she happened to mention offhandedly about using her sourdough to make Pig in a Blanket. That was a dish I'd not heard mentioned in many years and I stood there basking in the glow of the light bulb turning on over my head. I could see the Hobbits cheering over this one...what kid doesn't love Pig in a Blanket? That's got to be worth some serious Most Delicious Mommy points, right?

While gluten free bread dough isn't workable to the degree that wheat flour is, an approximation of Pig in a Blanket is indeed possible. So I played with it and came up with this combination, which is more of a stuffed bread than a wrapped hot dog. But there it is. I even renamed it, since all pork and beef hot dog sausage products at our fingertips have corn in them.

Buffalo in a Blanket

Gluten free bread dough sufficient for one loaf of bread
4 hot dogs or sausages

Line two bread pans with parchment. The dough will be evenly split between the pans. Spread a layer in the bottom of each pan, about an inch or so, using about 1/4 of the total dough for each pan. Lay two hot dogs or sausages side by side in each pan. Using the remaining dough, cover the hot dogs/sausages. Allow to rise the normal amount of time and bake at 350* for 45 minutes to 1 hour. Allow to cool enough to touch, slice, and serve.

This was, as expected, a tremendous hit with the Hobbits...a quintessential comfort food. Turns out I did get extra Most Delicious Mommy points for this. Score, me!

Outside of the voting booth, I plow my energies and focus into making a difference on a molecular level: scraped knees, hornworm caterpillar collections and princess scepters. Laundry lines, vegetable rows, and jars of food lined up in the basement...day by day...staying by the stuff.

*_{I Sam. 30:24}

Twenty Four and Counting...

Milestones. We've seen a few of them over the past few years. Making our last cross-country move. Buying our home. Bug's first steps here. Starting schooling. Our homebirth with Princess' precipitate arrival...good thing we'd planned a homebirth! Each dietary diagnosis. Each food taken out. The foods we've been able to add back in. And now Tool Guy and I celebrating our twenty-fourth wedding anniversary. Next year, the big one.

Several months back, our Party Planner offered, out of the blue, to take care of the Hobbits for Tool Guy and I to go off for a weekend. Days away seemed overly ambitious to me...stretching the umbilical cord a bit further than my comfort zone allowed, but we were definitely ready for a night out. So I watched the movie releases and waited for something relatively interesting and decent to come out. This took longer than even I had anticipated, Hollywood's creative vacuum being what it is, so it happened that the night we settled on was close enough to our anniversary to call it a celebratory date. Sweet. Dinner and a movie.

In our area, the safest place to eat out for anyone who is only gluten-free and not Everything Free is Outback. So we dressed to the nines...well, as ninish as one can get and not over-do it for an AMC Loews theatre, you know...and headed out for our date. I'm trying to remember the last time I've eaten out. Probably four years. Yeah, Outback isn't haute cuisine nor any of the other culinary ideals like eating local and all of that, but it's someone else's cooking. It's hard to be critical of something that is at least half way decent and I didn't know intimately from start to finish. If nothing else, the mystique is appetizing. We arrived hungry and were seated immediately, which is another indicator of how long it has been since we've eaten out together. We've never been seated that quickly at an Outback in our entire marriage. Yeah, that 24 year thing. Hey, I'll take my milestones where I can get them.

It was so refreshing to have a relaxing meal, refreshing conversation, and idle ease with a minimum of fuss. Our server did attempt to bring us a loaf of bread, but that was the only bobble. We each had our favorite picks and finished it all off with the brownie. It's probably an indicator of all the tweaking and testing that I've done that I was unconsciously evaluating the dessert as I dove in. My mind was weighing the crumb, the texture, the taste...all that stuff. Given that it's just cocoa powder, eggs, and stuff that just adds flavor, like a bunch of terrific crunchy walnuts. It did crumble apart rather easily...no mystery about why. But a massive mountain of ice cream, whipped cream, and shaved chocolate goes a long way toward holding that brownie together and I'm not about to quibble with such a surfeit of sugar, right?

I suppose the first indicator that there would be a change of direction in our evening plans was when we stopped off at the bank's ATM to get cash for the festivities. Tool Guy had recently received a newly PINned card, which had worked the last time he'd used it. Not tonight. Not at the bank's ATM. Not at another nearby ATM. And, unfortunately, not at the restaurant. And equally unfortunately, my purse with the checkbook and perfectly functional ATM card were at home. They were gracious about the glitch and we headed home to get more reliable coverage of our dinner tab. Scratch the movie. Fall back ten and punt. Sighing over the necessity, we drove back and continued the threads of the things we'd discussed over dinner, enjoying the night sky and joking about finding some spot to go parking. Hey, twenty-four years isn't that long, you know.

It's nice to be able to enjoy such food without worrying about reactions. Well, Tool Guy did have a minor reaction, but in a public place, cross-contamination is probably inevitable. I didn't even have any kinds of kick-backs from all of that sugar. The meal was grainless (except for the corn that has to be in there somewhere)...even the brownie...so that was right up my alley. Someday, I need to go into the kitchen for some cooking dangerously and figure out how they do that flourless brownie. Meanwhile, I'm contenting myself with grainless pancakes. They're pretty light and fluffy and actually rather delicious. Well, not as delicious as brownies, but they do fill the hole and when slathered with ghee, they'll do. Until I hammer down that brownie thing.

Grain-free Pancakes

1 cup eggs
1/2 cup coconut milk
1/2 cup coconut flour
1/2 t guar gum
1/2 t salt
1/2 t baking soda

Blend up eggs and coconut milk before adding remaining ingredients and mixing. Be ready to add more milk...the coconut flour thickens as it absorbs moisture and it is very absorbent. Dole out onto heated griddle over medium low heat, turning when the top bubbles and loses its shine. Serve with ghee and maple syrup.

I had to smile when we walked in the door to see a totally darkened living room, populated with Hobbits on the floor, munching faux popcorn and shoestring fries. All of the faces were turned up toward the TV screen with 3D glasses perched on each nose. It looked like a flashback from the '50's. Trust Party Planner to come up with something that would make a simple DVD and a dark room a festive event. No one was missing us. Heh. Grabbing the stuff we'd come for, we dashed back out with just some quick explanations to resume the rest of our evening. No movie. Just lots of talking about plans and ideas for the next twenty four years. Good food and good company is all that counts.

For This We Give Thanks

The holiday season is upon us, despite the commercial attempts to skip both Halloween (no great loss there) and Thanksgiving this year. The garden has been put to bed and I've pulled absolutely as many leaves out of the yard as I ever intend to this year. Poke me with a fork. Of course, Thanksgiving brings up the remembrances of colonists and the profound gratitude for simple survival, which has bequeathed to us the traditional foods that represent this holiday to most Americans. These days, nothing in history is being taken for granted, but is being re-examined, rewritten, and restructured. Whatever the actual facts of the first Thanksgiving may or may not be, it is certainly appropriate to designate a time to acknowledge what we have received and be grateful for it.

We have a lot of things to be thankful for this year. The Hobbits continue to grow and thrive, to challenge and thrill us with their burgeoning personalities, skills, and reach, to amaze us with demonstrations of what they are capable of. Physical blessings and provisions above and beyond what we could have ever dreamed of asking for. A bountiful garden. Generous friends and family who love us unconditionally and forgive the hurts that closeness occasions. Deeper walks and deeper relationships. Expanding experiences and expanding borders. "He makes all things new."*

Recently, I received a phone call from a close friend. Since the inception of our multitudinous food allergies--which coincided with the unanticipated pregnancy with Princess--I've drawn in upon myself and pulled into a safe circle where I could figure out the huge confusion of what was happening to us and create a place for the Hobbits that wasn't rife with landmines. No eating out, no traveling, no socializing that involved the presence of food--too much risk of cross-contamination with my contact canaries who cop reactions from just touching the stuff. I called this period of time my "gestational hibernation." Which was pretty accurate while I was pregnant and Princess was a baby, except that now Princess is creeping up on five years old. The phone call from my friend was a wake-up call that it was time to take some baby steps out of my den. A fellowship lunch was coming up. We usually duck out before the food is served, despite Dog's protests that he'd like to stay "this once." Gently, this friend prodded me to reconsider cooking something safe for us to eat and coming along to join in the fellowship. Given our strides forward and her winsome reasoning, I relented. Unbeknownst to me, she ran interference for me with the kitchen coordinators to isolate our food to a corner of the kitchen to prevent cross-contamination on the site. We just had to show up with our food, eat, and enjoy. Blessings of the day: no later food reactions to cause regrets and a good time was had by all.

At the meal, this friend brought a ratatouille, which I'd never tried before. Since I'm impervious to contamination reactions, I taste tested the recipe and decided this was one to add to our repertoire. So in celebration of the many things that we are thankful for, it's part of this year's celebration...remembering to give thanks for friends who care enough to prod us to expand our comfort zone. Along with the Autumnal Beef Stew, per Bug's request.

Ratatouille, tweaked from Diana Rattray's about.com recipe

Olive oil, sufficient to coat vegetables
2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
1 onion, quartered and thinly sliced
1 eggplant, cubed
4 large tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1 zucchini, cut into 1/4-inch slices
2 teaspoon dried leaf basil
1 teaspoon dried leaf oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried leaf thyme

In a 4-quart Dutch oven or saucepan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic and onions and cook, stirring often, until softened, about 6 to 7 minutes. Add eggplant; stir until coated with oil. Cover and cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep vegetables from sticking. Add tomatoes, zucchini, and herbs; mix well. Cover and cook over low heat about 15 minutes, or until eggplant is tender but not too soft.

During the course of the year, the Hobbits and I have discussed the various and sundry holidays and their significance. We discuss the various theories about the origins of each holiday. Some holidays are rooted in things that we don't embrace, but we still choose to celebrate that day anyway because its original meaning has been lost and it has acquired a meaning that is significant for us. So whether the story of the first settlers is apocryphal or not, we have begun molding and shaping a holiday tradition that makes it uniquely ours. Each year, as we have begun adding foods back into our originally sparse and spartan menu, it has become our practice to include those foods newly re-introduced from the past year in our Thanksgiving dinner and the next new food that we intend to trial. So you can see that our Thanksgiving dinner doesn't look anything like what most folks here are eating, but it gets to the heart of what we have to be thankful for.

This year the Hobbits are singing the praises of Fage Greek Yogurt. We're trialling dairy. Cross your fingers, folks...

_{*Rev. 5:21}

Good Enough Is Perfect

I'm delving into farming books. I'm planning on turning our little corner of the Shire into a mini-farm. Visions of chicken tractors dance through my head. A must-read book on the subject is You Can Farm by Joel Salatin and the way he writes it makes you think that it's really true...you can farm. One of the more notable quotes in the book comes from his father. He tells how his father gradually passed the reins of the family farm over to him, allowing Joel to make decisions and do things without micromanaging the changeover. "Good enough is perfect," he said. When I first read that, it rubbed my perfectionistic, control-freak nature the wrong way. I cringed. But the thought stayed with me and bubbled in the back of my mind like my pickles. I pondered the hazards of "analysis paralysis," of being caught up in trying to do things so perfectly that nothing gets done at all. Sometimes it is best just to move forward, even if it isn't the best plan around, just to get moving and see what happens.

Which got me thinking about all of the work that I do and the very little that I task the Hobbits to do and the disservice that exacts...for all of us, all for the purpose of satisfying my way of doing things. I've been working on letting go. One excruciating inch at a time. The breaking point for me was the leaves in the yard. Last year, the leaf fall was significantly diminished by the emergence of a cyclical defoliating pestilence. They were amazing. I could stand out on the back deck of our house and hear them eating the leaves. I'm not the only one who noticed this....several other people commented on it, so I know I'm not nuts. (Well, I probably am, but at least this isn't the evidence of it. Smirk.) Yard clean up last fall was an easy-breezy affair. And it only took that one easy-breezy year to forget just how many leaves the trees in our yard produce. After slogging away for an entire week and not being half way done--ignoring the new deposits on the areas where I'd cleaned--I decided that I needed to fall back ten and punt. This was the time for Operation Good Enough Is Perfect.

It came to me one night as I was falling asleep. I'd equip Princess with a small rake and have her edging around buildings and trees; Bug would man the hose and garden, soaking the leaves to speed composting; Dog would run relay on the mulch bags for the mower. Of course, when I announced my plan, it was met with crows of delight from work-famished younglings who were eager to assume this Herculean task. Um. Not. Nonetheless, everyone went to their assigned stations. What had taken me a week to half way complete was accomplished in two days with the four of us working. Dog estimated that he'd satisfied all of his PhysEd requirements for quite some time. He pondered weighing a full mulch bag and calculating the poundage he'd schlepped into the garden, just to throw in some practical math skills applications on top of it all. Bug was a trooper and soaked the leaves relentlessly, just pausing long enough to call for more EMs to refill the spraying cup. "This is the best job I've ever had!" he chirped. I gotta get these guys out more.

On chilly, hard-working days like these, it's divine to come into a house warmed by the oven and infused with the smell of dinner baking. I'm telling you, I keep flashing on all of my childhood favorites these days. Comfort food. My mom used to make a cream of mushroom casserole that we all loved. When everything went off the menu, we lost this one, since it was a "box of this, can of that" kind of recipe. After a while, it dawned on me that someone had probably used the packaged food as a short-cut from a Real Food recipe. I twiddled with it and reverse engineered it into a recipe that everyone with furry feet can enjoy, namely the Hobbits.

Cream of Mushroom Chicken Casserole

6-9 chicken parts
8-12 mushrooms, sliced
2 cups rice
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups coconut milk
2 T dry Italian Dressing Mix

I said before that my grandmother started every recipe by browning the meat in carmelized sugar and oil. See? Here it is. So dump oil or lard in cast iron dutch oven and heat sugar until brown and bubbling, just to the point of smoking. Add meat pieces and allow to brown on each side, turning for even browning. Add sliced mushrooms and saute. Add bone broth, coconut milk, rice, and stir. When the liquids begin boiling, add dressing mix and stir until until incorporated. Bake at 350* for 1-2 hours or until cooked.

Italian Dressing Mix

1 T garlic powder
1 T onion powder
2 T oregano
1 t pepper
1/4 thyme
1 t basil
1 T parsley

For dressing, mix:

1/4 cup cider vinegar
2/3 cup oil
2 T water
2 T dry mix

In the quest for gardening perfection, I stumbled across Efficient Microbes as an enhancer. I used it one Fall and in the following spring, all of the dead fall leaves in the garden were dirt...almost no leafy matter left. And worms? There were so many that when I walked through the garden, they would spring from the ground and wiggle across the tops of my feet with each step. Really. It was like something out of Tremors. The following year I skipped the EM and the results weren't as stellar. It's a great product. But that's the problem. It's a product that I'm buying from someone else and I've taken Sandor Katz's admonition to heart...the one about becoming a producer and not a consumer.

Then the idea struck me. EM is fermented molasses water with some additives thrown in. Fermented molasses water. How about kombucha tea made with molasses instead of white sugar? In the interest of this science project, I sacrificed all but two of my scobies to make this muddy brew. It fermented up and even made more muddy scobies in the process. I had Bug spraying this stuff all over the layers and layers and layers of leaves blanketing what was my garden. I won't know until the spring whether or not my science experiment did its job. I'll know if it the leaves have been reduced to rubble and have returned to the dust sufficiently.

And good enough? Yeah. That would be perfect.

Pick Two

I adore interpreting. I used to be a workshop junkie. Workshop? I'm there. First there and on the front row. Conventions? Oh. My. Workshop heaven. While I was an active interpreter, I never missed a convention. If I couldn't afford to go as an attendee, I worked the convention. I got to listen and get paid. What's not to love? And I've benefited from the knowledge of some of the best in the profession. One workshop that stands out in my mind where Anna Witter-Merithew talked about the price of quality. The price of excellence. She recounted her experience getting her car repaired. The mechanic had a memorable sign posted on his wall: "Good. Fast. Cheap. Pick Two." She applied this to the discipline of becoming a good interpreter. There's a price to pay and you have to pick your priorities.

This principle came back to me after a conversation I had with another mom this past week. She was asking my opinion about her teenager and some food issues. I shared my opinion of the cause of the issue and what my experience showed me would work. As I was speaking, she stood there shaking her head. "Isn't there an easier way?" she despaired. I suggested a particular supplement that people have reported as helping, but tagged on the caveat that it was $60-$100 a month. "Isn't there a cheaper way?" I responded that I do things the way that worked for us....I know no other way.

After spending the week thinking about this conversation, my workshop experience came back to me. The same principle applies to dealing with this food problem thing: "Good. Easy. Cheap. Pick two." There are supplements out there that are helpful. Probiotic packed pills. They cost. Gluten free convenience foods cost. The bottom line is that the most effective therapies take time and discipline. They can be cheap, if you're willing to do the hard work over a period of time. It comes down to the prosaic point that this "everything free" diet stuff is like all other diet stuff. It's work, it's discipline, it's more about lifestyle changes than "diet" and there aren't any silver bullets. Each person has to decide if the cost of discipline is worth the return.

The evidence is mounting, beyond just the dismissed and minimized experiences of such parents as I, that doing this kind of work pays off. A study, hot off the press, has some validating things to say about eating effecting our brain function, particularly in autistic children:

"The bacteria produce propionic acid, a short chain fatty acid, which in addition to existing in the gut, is commonly found in bread and dairy products, MacFabe said." Fascinatingly, the study scientists were able to use this bacteria to replicate autistic behaviors in rats, as well as effecting the same kinds of physical changes that are exposed in autopsies of autistic patients. "Now we're learning that the brain and body can influence each other," she said.

This sent me back to thinking about "easy, good, and cheap." And discipline. Some of the best foods that feed brain function are foods high in Omega 3 fatty acids. Like fish. Grandma wasn't being poetical when she said that fish is "brain food." It literally is. That covers "good." And the price of wild-caught sardines qualify as "cheap." But for someone who doesn't really care for fish so much, the "easy" option becomes dicey...gotta pick two. Fortunately, thanks to my Gardening Mentor, sardines can be easy to fix, if requiring some discipline to eat.

Quick Sardine Supper

1 medium onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium tomato, choppped or a handful of cherry tomatoes cut in half
olive oil
1 can of sardines
fresh basil (a few leaves) or a pinch of dried basil
salt and pepper, to taste
crushed red pepper, if desired

Heat oil in medium skillet. Add onions and saute until softened. Add garlic and cook lightly. Stir in tomatoes, then sardines. Remove from heat, season to taste. Serve over pasta, crackers, or rice.

The CBC report continues to say:

"'Treating a child's health should be the first step in addressing autism...Behaviour therapy is certainly important. But the child's health controls the bandwidth that the child has for being able to benefit from behavioural therapy. If a child is sick, they won't be able to focus."

Parents should watch their children closely to determine what foods trigger reactions and to consider removing those triggers, she said. Herbert strongly advocates a balanced diet, consisting of all food groups, not just 'bread and cheese.' 'If you have foods that (a) child is sensitive to in their immune system, that can set up processes that can impact brain function, and it can do so in a negative way. And if you remove those foods, that negative impact can stop.'"

Incredibly validating to hear The Powers That Be saying it, too.

Easy, cheap, good. Pick two.

I'm the Mayonnaise in This Sandwich

Sibling rivalry. It bites. Big time. I always said that we had Bug for Dog's benefit--he was too entrenched in the benefits of being an only child--and God sent us Princess for Bug's benefit. For the past few years, ever since she became mobile, Princess and Bug have been best buddies and do everything together. This tendency is still there, but perhaps it is an age/stage thing, but now this "attached at the hip-ness" is accompanied by continual squabbling. I don't get it. I really don't. When someone works my last nerve, the place I most wanna be is the furthermost from their presence. Not these two. Everything must be done with the company of the other, even if it means that they are going to bicker over their use of space to the smallest centimeter.

Somehow, despite my best intentions, I always manage to get sucked into this. I've tried to take the strategy of letting them resolve their differences between them. I mean, they have to learn how to get along and I don't want to always be the referee. At some point in time, however, the decibel level begins to approach aircraft velocity and a mother must needs step in. I usually "ground" them from each other. They can go about their day and do what they want, but they have to do it separately from each other. Any communications have to go through me. Yep. I'm the mayonnaise in this sandwich.

Speaking of which, I scored a major coup at the grocery store today thanks to my gardening mentor's discovery: Hormel Natural Choice deli meats. Shelly at Hormel assures me that while "natural flavorings" is proprietary information--doesn't that just fash you?--it doesn't contain any soy, dairy, or corn, nor anything that was such in a previous incarnation. Looks like sandwiches are back on the menu! Another bugaboo of ours is what to put on the sandwich. I've sussed out a safe deli meat line, a safe mustard, a safe and delicious bread...now for the mayonnaise.

Every new mayo recipe I've seen tags a raw egg/salmonella disclaimer to it, so I suppose I should lemming along with the rest and preface this recipe with one. To be honest, though, given the descriptions given by Michael Pollan and Joel Salatin on the conditions the chickens producing these battery eggs, I don't think I'd venture using them for mayonnaise either. Fortunately, we get what I call "yard eggs" which is a step beyond the murky term "free range" which often is a way of saying, "Our cages are slightly larger or have slightly fewer chickens than the Industrial Guys." Ours comes from a friend whose chooks run loose through his yard and his children Easter Egg hunt every single day.

Once again, I am thankful for having an antique cookbook on my shelf. Those were the days! I dip into the riches of The American Woman's Cookbook by Ruth Berolzheimer published in 1938, pg 448, tweaked our way. For this, I used rice bran oil and a touch of maple syrup. Tool Guy deemed it as good as Miracle Whip. I'd call that satisfaction.

Mayonnaise

2 uncooked egg yolks
1/2 tsp. salt
1 T lemon juice
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 T maple syrup
1 cup rice bran oil

To yolks, add dry seasonings, blend thoroughly, add vinegar or lemon juice and beat again. Add oil gradually while blending. The mixture should be thick and creamy. Should mayonnaise curdle, begin with a third egg yolk, add a small quantity of oil to the egg, and then by very small quantities, add the curdled dressing. At time a dressing may be quite firm when left, only to be found curdled and disappointing when the time comes to use it. This third egg process will, however, usually restore it.

Bug and Princess will--I am told and I'm taking on faith--one day reach a level of equanimity in their relationship. Today, however, isn't that day. I have hope. After an afternoon of being excluded from each other, Bug creeps up and penitently says, "I'm ready to tell Princess I'm sorry." Peace reigns.

For the next five minutes.

Fifty Ways to Tweak a Cake

I'm looking forward to August as a month when I can actually rest. I have an entire stack of Victorian murder mysteries in sequential order piled up next to my bed, calling to me. I'm still tying up loose ends from last school year and beginning to fray the first threads of next. Yes, Kim, I promise to have my homeschooling co-op return packet to you by the end of the week. Cross my heart and hope to die. Hold that spot for me! As the fruits of the garden begin to flood in, I'm daily crawling through the bolt holes between the plants, groping for heavy fruit. And our buying club order has been put to bed for the month, so begins a whole new cycle of meditating and purchasing.

An interesting article flashed across Yahoo, stating that the weight of one's friends has a large influence on one's own personal weight and perception of what is an acceptable weight. Makes a lot of sense, though. As a buying club coordinator, I see how much influence the members have over each other in the purchases we make and the products that become popular. Like iron sharpens iron, we rub off on each other and encourage each other to think critically about what we buy and what we eat.

On the other hand, chocolate is chocolate and so requires no meditation. Just open that wrapper and enjoy, right? Endangered Species: It isn't junk food. It's a handful of anti-oxidents. Heh.

Interestingly, there are more and more people cropping up in my life who are re-evaluating what they eat, the value of it, and whether what we take for granted as being nutritious is actually such. It really challenges my own way of doing things, how we eat and how that is perceived. Some of my closest friends are starting to do the same and it is very rewarding to walk with them, exploring these topics. Everyone has their own baby steps and it's encouraging as more and more people around me start to take them.

My party planner just wrapped up another wonderful celebration of Dog and Bug's birthday. It was a Buzz Lightyear theme, which was a wonderful platform for every home educator's dream of weaving fun with learning. She set up game stations for each planet of the solar system...and we universally agreed that Pluto is a planet, thankyouverymuch. Each station had a task to accomplish, a fact to collect toward earning a prize for each planet. The yard was scattered with string, scraps of planetary factoids, games, scrambling, screaming kids and a boisterous good time.

How can you thank a friend for such meticulous planning, set up, and coordination? Well, when she's taking her own baby steps toward changing things, you do some baking for her. One of her own hobbits is coming up on a birthday and needs an almost everything-free cake. Well, have I got a recipe! One friend of mine said it reminded her of the German "schlopp" cake recipe provided to new brides as a vehicle to learn to bake on, a guaranteed success. This is one of those impervious recipes that can be stretched in fifty different directions and it will come out edible each time. It has a substitution option for almost every ingredient. Depending on the substitution, the texture, loft, and consistency may change some. Instead of a light, fluffy cake, you may get a dense, moist fudgy cake. Any way you jumble the combinations, it has lots of wiggle room.

Red Devil Cake

2 cups flour (I used 1.5 cups rice, 1/4 tapioca, 1/4 potato starch)
1 c sugar (I used 1/2 c date sugar, 1/4 c vegetable glycerin)
1/2 c cocoa powder or carob powder
2 t double acting baking powder (I used cream of tartar)
2 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
2 eggs
1 t guar gum or xanthan gum
1 c diced cooked beets (I used pear puree)
1 c water or water to appropriate consistency (My uses average 1/4 cup)
1/3 c olive oil
2 tsp apple cider vinegar
2 t vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350* F. Lightly oil or spray two 8" square baking pan (I used a 9" round). Mix flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt in bowl, combining well.

If using flax instead of eggs (see substitutions below), grind to meal in coffee grinder. Place 1/3 cup water in blender, start blending while adding flax meal. Blend 30 seconds. To flax mixture or to eggs in blender, add beets, 1 cup water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla. While mixing, add guar or xanthan gum. Process until frothy and well blended.

Pour this quite thick liquid mixture into dry ingredients. Mix quickly just until everything is moistened and incorporated. Pour batter into prepared pans and immediately bake for 35-40 minutes or until tester comes out clean. Watch carefully as it may take less time.

Frost when completely cool.

Substitutions:

Add more cocoa/carob and chips to get a richer flavor
Sub 2 eggs with 2 T flax and 1 cup water
Sub 1/3 c mashed banana instead of eggs or flax
Sub carob instead of chocolate
Sub sweet potatoes, yams, squash, pears, or pumpkins for beets
Make cupcakes instead of cake (approx 15)

I've started hunting around for and collecting antique cookbooks. So much of what is published today bids the "assembler"--as opposed to "cook"--to open a box of this or a can of that. Old-fashioned cookbooks were textbooks in chemistry and explained how to make even the ingredients to put in the recipes. One such treasure came to me by way of my mother who, as a young wife, had been gifted this cookbook by a friend who had used it in her early years as well. The American Woman's Cookbook by Ruth Berolzheimer published in 1938, pg 481, provided me with the perfect almost everything-free frosting, which I tweaked slightly for us:

Maple Sugar Frosting

3/4 cup maple-sirup [sic]
1/4 cup sugar (I used maple sugar)
2 egg-white beaten
1/4 cup carob powder

Cook the sirup and sugar together until it spins a thread (220*F.), remove from the fire and cool while the egg-whites are beaten stiff and whipped with carob powder, then pour the sirup in a thin stream, over the stiff whites, beating the mixture until it is thick enough to spread. A rough surface may be obtained by spreading the top of the cake with the back of a spoon before the frosting is set.

Oh, yeah. Be careful. Hot maple syrup burns. Ask me how I know.

The frosting, too, is tweakable since the carob powder to color and flavor the icing was my addition. When Princess turned three, she decreed a pink birthday. Scrambling around a bit, I was able to juice a beet sufficiently to color the icing pink without adulterating the flavor. The smaller male Hobbits were put off by the knowledge that the pink had come from beets, but I was unabashed by their reluctance since that left more for the larger Hobbits to polish off with relish and aplomb.

I'd love to give credit where credit is due with regard to this marvelous cake. Alas, however, it is much like the urban legendary Neiman Marcus cookie recipe: it has made the rounds of the internet so many times that it seems impossible to trace where it came from. Someone out there definitely deserves kudos.

Birthdays

It was our country's birthday this past week. Dog's birthday was in there somewhere. I'm reminded of Jimmy Cagney's portrayal of George M. Cohen, who was born on the 4th of July. "I always thought the fireworks were for me." I suppose it must auger well for Dog that he thought so, too, for the first four years of his life.

For the first few years, we spent the holiday weekend at my parents' place with a neighborhood parade and home town fireworks and always waited to celebrate Dog's birthday there. When we moved up to Small Town, USA, we relocated our traditions. Before going everything-free, we did the fire works and small town parade stuff...lots of noise, floats, and candy flung at cerubic Hobbits on the curb. The first year of everything-free, we still went to the parade. Dog and I had a discussion ahead of time that there would be no candy from the parade floats. When he's not infracting, Dog has a very rational and sometimes disconcertingly adult way of viewing things. I cautiously informed him that all of the candy had corn in it and suggested that if that spoiled the fun for him and he didn't want to go to the parade, then that would be okay. With a very conciliatory expression on his face, he assured me, "That's okay, Mom. I won't be sad." He and Bug had a grand time collecting the candy and giving it away to all of the surrounding observers. I have to tell you that this gesture from such younglings created quite a few expressions of surprise.

But once the sensitivities had escalated to even contact reactions, we stopped attending the parade altogether. The fireworks has become the high point of the whole day. The volunteer fire department in a neighboring village uses the opportunity as their big fund raiser of the year and they put on a display that would make some big towns ashamed. Well worth the entrance fee. We've made it the focal point of our celebration for several years now and the Hobbits have come to depend on it. They talk about it all of the rest of the year. Only birthdays and Christmas get more air time. Well, Princess didn't like it for the first couple of years, but she's come around. Something to be said for sitting out on the chairs on the fairgrounds, chasing fireflies and waiting for the show to start. It makes one feel connected to all of the generations who have done the same thing every year for the past 200+ years.

Special occasions like birthdays and parties and high days are always fraught with difficulties because all celebrations are centered around food. I remember attending the fireworks display last year and being parked next to a pick up truck that pulled up with a full sized bbq grill in the back. Added a whole 'nuther level to the definition of tail-gating. I've made everything-free birthday cakes....with pink icing yet for Princess, of course....but simple and easy stuff appeals to me these days and I'm glad that sometimes the Hobbits opt for the simple and easy stuff.

This year for his birthday, Dog requested rice crispy treats. Dr. Peter D'Adamo, in Cooking Right 4 Your Type, has a recipe for just such a confection that required very little tweaking for our type: the everything-free type. The original recipe calls for honey or brown rice syrup as the sweetener and he recommends refrigerating the final product to avoid the pieces falling apart. I found that including maple syrup and boiling the combined sweeteners to the string stage yielded a treat that didn't need to be refrigerated to hold together. It's even more delicious than the commercial corn-laden version. Since my Hobbits are children of my heart, they love chocolate as much as I do, so I tossed in some safe chocolate chips as an added fillip.

Rice Crispy Tr....um...Delights

4 T ghee
1/4 cup Lundberg brown rice syrup
1/4 cup maple syrup
4 T maple sugar
6 cups puffed cereal of choice--I used Erewhon crispy rice
1/2 c Enjoy Life Chocolate chips (optional)

In sauce pan, melt ghee, syrups, and sugar together. Bring to a boil and allow to bubble until the liquid creates a string when spoon is dipped in and removed. Pour into bowl with cereal and stir until incorporated. Add chips and stir. Expect the chips to melt somewhat. Press into flat rectangular pan. Allow to cool and cut into squares. These will hold together at room temperature, but refrigeration will keep them fresher longer....if any remain to be stored.

Happy Birthday, Dog!

Egg Hunt

I suppose it is no surprise that most of what I do revolves around food. In addition to gardening, one of my side "hobbies" is coordinating the purchases of our buying club. I inherited the job from the previous coordinator and it has certainly facilitated our Breatharian lifestyle and made it more affordable. It's fun, too. I get to do foodie stuff and spend other people's money. What's not to love? Members ask me my opinion on products and foods and I always have an opinion about something. A former supervisor acerbically informed me once that there is such a thing as an unexpressed thought. Really? Who knew?

We took delivery on our co-op order recently. Part of the shipment were two cases of eggs from an "Amish Farm" (who knows how authentic this is, but I'm taking it on faith). This is the third delivery we've gotten from them and the stuff has been largely satisfactory, at least as far as I'm concerned. In digging through the case to check for breakage, I found a few cartons with an egg missing out of each. And then....

The next carton had an egg missing. In its place was a wad of packing tape.

The next carton had a screw tucked under one of the eggs.

The next carton had a dime tucked under one of the eggs.

The next carton had a business card for an Amish cobbler and horse equipage in Ohio.

The denouement? The egg that was swathed in packing tape. One egg. In the entire carton.

?????

Dog says, "What kind of weird scavenger hunt was that?" Yeah. What he said.

So that farmer and me? Oh, we're gonna talk....

Almost Everything Free French Toast, 'Cha

Several slices of Almost Everything Free Sourdough Bread
14 oz of coconut milk or other dairy replacer
4 eggs
1-2 tsp ghee

Blend up substitute milk with eggs. Sweetener can be added, if desired. Heat cast iron griddle or skillet on medium low, melting ghee until the oil is in motion. Meanwhile, soak bread slices in milk/egg mixture on both sides until saturated. Place as many slices will fit into the heated skillet and cook until browned on both sides and no longer wet in the center.

Can be served plain or with desired topping.

Lost In Austen

I used to be an avid reader. The librarians would flinch when I walked in the door. Seriously. Before children, I would swoop in with a cavernous gym bag and not leave until it was almost too heavy for me to drag out, leaving wide gaps on the shelves. And I've lived before there were computerized check-out systems. Just imagine.

However, the rigors of time management require having less time to curl up with a good book, let alone a mountain of them. Then a few years ago, my partner in food crime shared with me her enjoyment of books on tape. Just plug that puppy in and go about your day. Oh, my. Absolute heaven.

Doing a little poking around the very cutting-edge library system we have at our fingertips here, I discovered a vast wealth of audio books at my complete disposal. Thanks goodness for Library Elf, because with four library cards in my pocket, I'm worse than a shopaholic with all of the credit cards. Needless to say, these days very little of what I "read" is actually words on a printed page. But I'm able to cover, if not all of the volume of books I once regularly read, at least enough to keep my mind entertained, challenged, and active.

A while back, I decided to cover in full all of the Jane Austen novels that I enjoyed so well as A&E productions or feature movie productions. I spent a whole year lost in Austen. And my children went with me. Poor things, they didn't have a choice, because there were the lilting, vibrant narrative tones following them through the house, over and over. Even the incomparable Wanda McFadden can't best Lyndsay Duncan's version of Pride and Prejudice. I should know because I've listened to them both. A few times.

On top of this, Tool Guy bought me a portable dvd player to entertain me while in the kitchen, cooking dangerously. My stack of Jane Austen productions are looking, shall we say, "well-loved" at this point. I realized just how much was trickling down the food chain, as it were, when I was standing toe to toe with Dog about getting a job done. As I won the point and he slouched off to perform the required task, he tossed back over his shoulder, "Very well, but it gives me no pleasure." Who knew? I'm raising Mary Bennett.

Mrs. Bennett's catty remark about her daughters not having anything to do in the kitchen because they were well able to afford a good cook made me start thinking about how we live today and how they lived back then. When we first started this everything free business, I told a food friend that I was living a 19th century life in the 21st....sort of like the folk in Frontier House, but without all of the soap opera drama. I have to tell you that this creates a certain amount of dissonance with the dominant culture. People who can toss frozen dinners into the microwave or order out for pizza or pop off to the closest fast food restaurant have a concept of time that is very much at variance with mine. Life feels like it moves at a much faster pace for the rest of the world than it does for me. Many of my foodie friends tell me they have the same experience.

My days are about planning, prepping, staging. One meal flowing into the next. Or housework. Hanging out laundry. Or yard work. Or gardening. Oh, and there's some homeschooling in that mix somewhere. But that's probably the way that it's always been. The speed of life as we know it today is a modern construct....perhaps an artificial one at that....and not how most people have lived over the larger course of history. For most of our history, with the exception of the Bennetts of this world, people did it all themselves, as extended family, or as a community. Another friend, who has similar food issues, visited a family down in Mexico who live in a rural setting. She described their days much as I'd always imagined and I feel an affinity for their daily rhythms. Only there were other hands to help so nothing was terribly burdensome and the husband always made sure there was wood for the fire or sufficient water available. Community is and always has been terribly important in this lifestyle. Our Western ideas of autonomy definitely drive the inspiration for labor and time-saving devices and food. My friend said the food there was real and wonderful. So much so that she burst into tears in the middle of a meal. "Way to startle a hostess," she lamented. I thought it was the ultimate compliment. I can understand that kind of gratitude for a safe meal from someone else's hands that is exquisitely delicious.

The affluent of Regency England hired people to see to all of those details for them. Today most folk do the same, only they are paying manufacturers and producers indirectly instead of directly hiring servants. Then there are the "everything free" folk who are doing everything themselves. See why I don't do much reading anymore? Well, I did manage to squeeze in What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to Whist-The Facts of Daily life in Nineteenth-Century England by Daniel Pool. An easy read and very interesting.

All of this culture sparked an interest in Bug and even Princess. It started when she came home with a hand-me-down toy china tea set made from real china. After they'd played with it for a while, Bug wanted some real tea. And scones, please, Mom. Tweaking a scone recipe when one has never eaten scones before is, needless to say, an additional challenge. On the other hand, if there's no basis for comparison, the untutored palate should be easier to please, right? Hey, some days you get the bear and some days the bear gets you. This scone recipe is a work in progress and I expect that as I refine it, this post will be replaced with the updated versions. Kinda like Scone 4.7.

I would love to say that these scones are identical to the authentic ones that you'd get within the embrace of the UK, but in all honesty, I can't. Ingredients like milk were originally added to recipes for the very reason that they do appealing things to the end product. I've found that losing milk in baked goods makes a significant dent in the outcome. So if you're looking for light and fluffy scones, then continue looking, gentle Breatharian, for these are not they. But they're not exactly hockey pucks either. They are buttery tasting with a slight tang, a little crispy on the outside, and provide an adequate raft to the garnishments of High Tea for an indiscriminate Hobbit's enjoyment.

Almost Everything Free Scones

1 cup gf flour
1/2 cup potato starch
1/2 cup dried potato flakes
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. guar gum
10 drops stevia liquid
1/4 cup ghee
1/2 cup coconut milk kefir

Cut ghee into dry ingredients, stir in coconut milk and stevia. Knead lightly until incorporated, adding liquid if necessary. Roll between silicone, parchment, or wax sheets, cut out and place on baking tray. Bake at 400* for 10-12 minutes.

Everyone enjoyed the tea immensely. Well, Dog didn't care for the beverage itself, but he did enjoy the experience and the scones. Bug and Princess relished it all. Looks like Tea is going to become a tradition around here. Here's to gracious living.

These days the librarians still flinch when we troop in. Because I don't come alone. Dog has inherited my book gene and we've discovered how the tandem stroller that hobbits have outgrown will accommodate one hundred books quite nicely. Good thing everything is computerized, right? Tomorrow is library day and we're going to go get lost.

Princess wants to know when she's going to be old enough for her own card.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Willie Wonka

Lollipops. They seem to be deeply embedded in the juvenile psyche. A quintessential emblem of childhood. Every child gets lollipops, right?

All of the hobbits, but Bug particularly, ask from time to time when they will be able to have lollipops again. It's one of those questions that stabs into the heart of a mom. Not having a scrying glass to be able to foresee when corn will be tolerated again, the alternative reply was, "When someone makes a corn-free lollipop, Sweetie."

Someone has. Finally.

And seeing their faces when I waved the lollipops in front of them and they realized that they could actually eat them....well....it's enough to make a mom want to cry tears of gratitude.

Thanks.

Time

One of the things I love most about homeschooling is time. As busy and sometimes harried as my days may be...or at least feel to me...we still have so much time.

Since we don't have to get up and go anywhere on a daily basis, we have time in the mornings. Time to let a baby sleep in without invading her warm, cuddly space and pull her out to brace against New England winter mornings. Time to let a highly distractable pre-schooler develop executive functioning skills without the daily harassment of getting badgered into shoes in less than 20 minutes. Time to answer half of the twenty million questions that a deep-thinking adult in little boy skin has to ask. And to have an extra cup of coffee.

Most of the time, my days are unbelievably busy. Even my mother-in-law says so. But she's always been the best of mother-in-laws, has never criticized a single thing I've ever done, and has been unfailingly supportive. I want to be my mother-in-law when I'm a mother-in-law. So she might not be the best person to critically analyse my sense of the industrially hygenic. And even though I get a lot done with a lot left undone, there's still time.

There's time to have conversations with Dog, the oldest, about which came first...iconic characters such as the Eastern cultures use and the Egyptians left for us to see or phonetic-based alphabets and how the age of global networking affects languages that are still character-based, if any. Or to analyze the exploitative motives and techniques of any given commercial hawking the latest groove that is absolutely essential to happiness. Or discuss Smeagol's motivations in the beginning, middle, and end of the journey. Or theorize exactly how many times a sword can be folded in crafting as the Samauri did. Or just listen to him wax enthusiastic about an outstanding sequence in TMNT. Some things you don't have to share an absolute appreciation for. Just nod.

There's time to make an apron for Bug, who is starting to end up in the kitchen, wanting to wash dishes and help cook. Time to discuss the compatibility of being an artist and a chemist at the same time. To analyze the chemistry of baking, of seeds sprouting, of fermented foods. When I said to the van occupants in general, "Remind me to buy some salt and nutmeg out of the co-op cabinet when we get to church today," it was Bug who answered, "Oh, so you can make muffins, right?" Six years old and he has my recipes down.

Yep. There's still time. Time to find that narding control to my pressure cooker that lay nestled at the bottom of the snow drift. Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it.

There's still time to discuss the comparative merits of pink and purple with Princess, my youngest, who is starting to also express profound thoughts of her own that have nothing to do with regency matters or color coordination. Time to help her swaddle her babies and tuck them into her sling so she can get on with the business of her day while nursing her babies. Or set her up with water colors and let her imagination run wild.

All of these things happen while my hands are busy. Busy cleaning. Busy cooking. Busy prepping. Busy redirecting conflicting personalities, highly convinced that their view of the situation is The Only Way it can be resolved. But there's still time.

And I'm always looking for time-savers. Fast Food is out for us, so I'm always looking for ways to make "fast food" versions of scratch food. Fried chicken fingers/nuggets are probably the quintessential fast food and my little philistines have no less love for them than other kids their ages. There are some things that I make that I never worry about appealing to anyone outside of my family and my "chicken sticks" are one of those things.

Chicken Sticks

Chicken breasts
1-2 cups tapioca starch flour
1-2 tablespoons seasoned salt
plastic bag
squirt bottle of water
1 lb lard or palm shortening

In plastic bag, mix up starch flour and seasoned salt. Slice breasts into medium thin fingers. Dump the fingers into plastic bag and shake until well coated. Remove and lay out on large platter or baking tray. Spritz with water bottle until the surface of the flour is damp and pasty. Refrigerate strips for a few hours or overnight; overnight is better since the final product will be crispier and less soggy.

Heat oil to frying temperature and deep fry strips for 3-4 minutes, depending on crisp preferences. Ready for Hobbits of all sizes to enjoy. No one misses trips to the Golden Arches, unless it is to rhapsodize about the playscapes.

The beauty of this recipe is that chicken breasts can be pre-sliced and frozen in meal-sized proportions and defrosted as needed. They can be prepped ahead of time to be pulled out later in the day and a meal is ready in five minutes. My version of fast food and time-saving cooking.

That leaves more time in my day. Time enough to instill what we believe and what we value into our children. These days, Dog does things like pick up someone else's mess or give his brother a dollar out of his own wallet for spending while Bug is having some quality time out with Dad. Or voluntarily owning up to a wrong-doing. Bug gives me hugs when things get too much and I sit down and cry. And Princess remembers to ask for prayer in Sunday School for her uncles with terminal cancer. That's when I'm really thankful for the time we have.

Time enough to bop through the house, plugged into my CD player, and polishing my ASL interpretation of Chris Rice's "Nonny, Nonny" while thrilling to the idea of this life being just the first sentence of eternity.

Bug was exploring the dynamics of magnets the other day. Holding his huge horseshoe magnet in his hand, he sucked up all of the widgey bits into mid-air. He turned to me and said, "When Jesus comes back to get us, He's going to use a magnet just like this."

That's exactly right, Sweetie.

I'm acutely aware of it washing away from me, this time thing, but I'm glad I still have so much more of it to look forward to.

Some Things I Do For Me

When you become a mother, it becomes all about your children. Elizabeth Stone said, "Making the decision to have a child--it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." And I still tear up every time I read that quote. When you're a mom to children with multiple food intolerances and very limited food choices, then the focus intensifies.

For the longest time, I only cooked for the children, meaning that I only made what they could...and would eat. Tool Guy was really okay with this--what's not to love? He's supportive of everything I do--since he told me when we first got married that it didn't matter if I could cook. As long as it was warm, he'd eat it. Romantic words for a new bride to hear. I've never been a food person, myself. Really. Give me peanut butter on crackers and a glass of tea and I'll call it dinner. And have. I love reading food blogs now, but previously I was always mystified by the passion for food. There must be some irony at play in this, since food has been our focus for the past five years.

During the Years of Cooking Dangerously, when all of my focus was on finding food equivalents to what had gone off the menu, I didn't have the energy or will to do more than eat things like egg salad and sprouts on rice cakes and pat myself on the back that this covered most of the food groups. Friends and family would fuss at me about my eating habits, but I had hunkered into survival mode. Then somewhere in the middle of all of this, a mom joined our homeschooling group. She's a first generation American citizen from Korea. And can she cook. Oh, my.

My initiation into Korean cuisine was kimbop, which is the Korean version of sushi. Distinction: no raw fish. Immediate bonus points there. SMK generously made up a batch in response to my pathetic begging for authentic Korean food, which was probably one of the best choices for a first taste. Not only was the food perfect, the presentation was stunning. (Wish I'd taken a picture of hers back then!) I was to learn that she valued presentation almost as much as taste. In an even more generous gesture, she invited one of the other moms and myself to her house for a kimbop tutorial. It's a labor intensive dish, but well worth the effort and one that I carve out time and energy to prepare at least once a week. It's an entire meal, rolled up into a seaweed tube; a nutritional powerhouse. Be prepared. It requires, as many traditional foods, some prior staging and planning.

Pickled radish is a popular ingredient to include, since kimbop needs a sour element to balance the salt, sweet, and umami flavors. Korean grocery stores sell packaged pickled radish, but it isn't Breatharian-compliant, having corn acid. I prepare my own from fresh daikon radish, using the radish tops in cooked greens another time and shredding the root into matchstick strips through a mandolin slicer
which SMK introduced me to from her favorite Korean grocer. A word to the wise. Carpenter glove. That's all I'm saying. After the radish is run through the shredder, hopefully without including any finger protein, then stuff it into a wide neck mason jar and cover with rice vinegar. I've used apple cider vinegar in the past and it works, but I find the ACV to be harsh compared to rice vinegar's delicate flavor. The pickled radish will be ready to use in a couple of days. The bolder adventurer might want to include pickled ginger, made from fresh ginger root in the same fashion as the pickled radish. Another word of warning: pickled radishes smell pungent. Yeah. That's the word. Pungent. Tool Guy uses other adjectives.

Another ingredient that I stage is the meat, which can be chicken, beef, or meat of your preference. Kimbop is another "potato salad" kind of recipe, so tweak with abandon. I freeze the cut of meat or chicken breast ahead of time. The day before making kimbop, I lay the frozen meat on the counter long enough for it to soften slightly. Removing the toothed blade from the mandolin, I cut thin slices of partially frozen meat into a bowl and marinate in wheat-free tamari sauce, usually overnight.

I have to pause to interject this caveat about the wheat-free tamari sauce I use. what I have available to me for use is San-J Gold Label Wheat-free Tamari Sauce which is certified gluten-free. And so it is, as far as I can tell. I feel compelled to comment about their description of the alcohol ingredient, as much as it pains me to do so. Their website, at the time of this posting, declares the alcohol to be "grain-free." Please be aware, gentle Breatharian, that their definition of "grain-free" is, in fact, corn alcohol. I know, I know. In what universe? Yes, I had a protracted "come to repentance" about this with their representative, but apparently have met with a resistant stance, despite the fact that she agreed with me. The designation hasn't changed. Amazingly, this is one source of corn that my canaries haven't yet reacted to, but their exposure is limited to a once-a-month stir fry night. More frequent exposure might raise a reaction, so we're stepping lightly.

The rice probably takes the longest to prepare. The rice of choice is sushi rice, otherwise known as sweet rice, sticky rice, or glutenous rice--glutenous referring to the texture, not any gliadin-bearing characteristics. For my serving sizes, I make 8 rolls of kimbop, which needs 2 cups of uncooked rice. I steam it in an Oster steamer. I prefer 2 cups rice to 2 cups water, a dash of sesame oil, 2 teaspoons Real Salt, 2 tablespooons rice vinegar, and 2 tablespoons sweetener, vegetable glycerin being my sweetener. My steamer may be on its last legs, however, because I find that I need to stir the rice from time to time during the process to ensure even cooking. Lately, I'm pointedly theorizing to Tool Guy that a rice cooker would obviate this apparent necessity to supervise the rice. Being Tool Guy at a big box home center has to have its perks, right?

When I'm ready to do the final cooking and assembly of the kimbop, I run about four carrots through the mandolin with the teeth blade inserted and...ahem...hand in glove. The carrot strips are sauteed with sesame oil, though for the seed sensitive, olive oil works well. I usually shred directly into the cast iron skillet, douse with oil, and settle it on my itty-bitty simmer burner set on low. When they're soft, they're done. Following SMK's example, I also make an omelet thick enough to slice into strips. Then I drain the marinated meat strips, lay them flat in the skillet, and simmer on low until done--which isn't long--then drain. SMK will include simmered spinach, which I sometimes do and Krabmeat, which I never do since it isn't gluten-free. This kimbop thing is way flexible and there are websites out there of kimbop in many different combinations waiting to inspire you.

The wrapper to all of this food is a paper thin sheet of seaweed called nori. A bamboo place mat serves nicely as a guide to providing even pressure all along the roll as you fill and roll these. Lay the sheet of nori down on the mat and spoon in about 1/4 cup cooked rice and spread. A flat-sided bowl scraper is invaluable here. Leaving about an inch of nori uncovered at the top of your sheet, use the scraper to spread the rice out over the surface of the nori sheet. This bare swathe will be the "flap" on your roll to seal everything in when you are finished rolling. Next I sprinkle in some totally optional sesame seeds, lay a strip of omelet, meat strip, carrots strips, some pickled radish, and a few sticks of pickled ginger in a layered pile. Then I spritz the flap with a quirt of water from a spray bottle and begin to roll until complete, sealing the flap when done. Amounts of each ingredient and rolling techniques are variables that become more fluid with practice and time. Don't worry about untidy ends. When all of the rolls are finished, take a sharp knife and trim the ends, slicing the entire roll into inch-sized slices. These are ready for immediate consumption, though I find that the flavor is richer the next day.

So how did these go over with the rest of the Hobbits? Eh. Not so much. Seems the nori is a bit off-putting. Oh. Quel dommage. Leaves more for me. The smallest Hobbit, who at four years of age is still imperiously requesting and requiring that she be addressed as Princess, occasionally snags one. But I'm the major consumer, so I make them even if I'm the only one eating them and I make them for my own tastes and my tolerances. These days I'm starting to do more things that are just for me. Like buying that Todd Agnew CD, Reflection of Something. The one with what Princess refers to as The "Curse You" Song. She's demanded--hence there term Video on Demand--to see the video so many times, I thought the poor man deserved some royalties for providing that much inspiration and motivation for both of us. Now I can carry the goosebumps around with me while I'm rumbling in the kitchen and be-bop while I snack on kimbop.

I've Taken a Scunner....

I'm an armchair linguist. Always have been. I don't talk about it much, because most people start glazing over when I start waxing enthusiastic over a curious linguistic detail. Becoming a certified interpreter of American Sign Language just fed that passion. My zeal for a turn of phrase or expression and my curiosity for how it came into use isn't limited just to ASL. I look for it in all the books I read and I gravitate to authors who give me windows into how other people and cultures use language. Which is probably why I love British Cozy mysteries, especially those set in the Highlands of Scotland.

When I first read the word "scunner," I could extrapolate from the context what it generally meant, but I looked it up to see if the helpful linguist would tell me how it was derived. Unfortunately, no, but it did confirm that it meant "to take a disgust to; object of loathing." Just so. I've taken a scunner to the ethics of some of the alternative health community. Particularly having to do with supplements and pricing. Yeah, that ugly topic of money.

Becoming a Breatharian ain't cheap. Unless you're one who carries it to its "purist" form. And there are some out there who do attempt it, I've discovered. I remember when I first staggered out of a health food store in sticker shock. Don't get me wrong. As I've adjusted, I find I've no quarrel with the home town health food store that works very hard to provide alternative foods in a very tight market. I don't even have a quarrel--well, not much anyway--with some of the popular alternative brands. I did buy a grain mill because rice can be as low as .25 a pound, which beats $2.50 a pound for the flour--sorry, Bob!--by a long stripe and is much easier on the Breatharian budget. Still, I understand why alternative stuff will cost more, given special handling, processing, more expensive ingredients, what have you. I grok profit margin. But some of this stuff approaches usurious and reeks of advantaging. Don't get me started on the website that sells common g/f flours for $10-30 a pound. Nope. Won't go there. But they're easy to blow off because what they sell is so readily found elsewhere for less. What really fashed me, for some reason, was the cost of supplements promising to restore digestive health. Those probiotic ones. You know. The magic dirt pills that cost $60 a bottle. Don't mistake me, these pills actually worked for us....at least they did while they were still saying that they were gluten free. It happened when I was evaluating how long I could afford to keep buying these, knowing that IselleverysupplementunderthesunHerb wasn't going to continue those deep pocket discounts forever (they didn't!), but wanting to get my children to a point of intestinal integrity where they would stop developing new reactions. Mulling over the label and dosing suggestions, I found the maintenance dose: "one a day for life." At $60 a bottle. Havers.

That was when I really started digging in to changing our diets, not just as an immediate exigency, but as a way of life. When we first started down this IgG trail, I was instructed that we had a three to four month load to haul....six months max and then we'd be home free. After that time frame elapsed and the children were becoming worse and not better, I had to re-evaluate. This was going to be a marathon, not a sprint and I needed to pace myself accordingly. And thon wee scunner wanting $60 per from me for life just fueled my drive to find other answers. We take supplements to give our bodies what we can't or aren't getting from our diets. Since I was convinced that probiotics were important to recovery, I started looking for dietary sources of probiotics. Real probiotics. Life probiotics. I found kefir.


For those to whom kefir is a new word, may I refer you to Dom Anfiteatro, the guru who has the most complete handling of the subject I've found. Even Wikipedia links to his site. To be brief, kefir is made by adding the bacteria-charged organism referred to as "kefir grains," which look like rubbery, overcooked cauliflower, to milk and letting them sit for 24 hours or so. The grains themselves feed on the lactose and impart the broadest imaginable spectrum of probiotic bacteria. They inspire such passion and enthusiasm in devotees that there are multiple yahoogroup lists--high traffic ones at that--on the subject. Go poke around there. Since grains propagate in milk and usually beyond any individual's need, these folk are usually very willing to share their bounty, some for just the cost of postage.

Then there are the Breatharians who can't do dairy.

Yes, I know. There are people who, being unable to tolerate grocery store milk, will be able to tolerate raw, organic goat's milk when kefirred sufficiently. Unfortunately, that advantage isn't universal. I tried doing just that with my children for a couple of months and consequently set the healing process back and entire year. An entire grim, austere year. A word to the wise: kefir may eat lactose, but it doesn't eat casein. So casein sensitive folk, tread carefully. Besides, while kefir is a great and easy source of live probiotics, my research and reading has led me to the understanding that all cultures have fermented foods, and not a few among vegetables and roots. So fermented dairy doesn't hold the corner on microbial magic.

What I've found, from experience, is that the grains, while they won't survive and reproduce in media other than milk, they will impart their probiotic value to whatever media they are in until they eventually peter out and die. It appears that it really doesn't matter what the medium is, you'll get some probiotic benefit from putting kefir grains in it. Since we were also grain-free, nut-free, almost everything free at that time, coconut milk made the most sense for us from a nutritional stand point. Making kefir is very simple and, while requiring routine, is much less demanding than children, a spouse, or even a pet. If possible, it would be advisable to keep a percentage of grains back to store in dairy milk, propagating for future drafting into the service of non-dairy kefir.

Non-Dairy Kefir

Pick your media, be it coconut, rice milk, nut milk, fruit juice

1 tablespoon of grains
1 cup of media
1 jar with non-metallic lid
24 hours

Drop the grains into the jar of liquid of choice, shake gently and leave on counter for 24 hours. Strain grains out and dump into fresh liquid. Lather, rinse, repeat. Figuratively, that is. Flavor/sweeten liquid to preferences, given that it will be on the sour side and drink.

Slainte!