cookbooks

Even more than I like cooking, I like reading cookbooks.  Stellar cookbooks are inspiring. I love the idea of making people happy with food.  When I cozy up to a cookbook I conjure up imaginations of fun parties, a healthier family, and more composed me. Eating is about so much more than food so likewise a cookbook should be much more than a list of ingredients.

I love to cook recipes that elicit warm memories of people and destinations. I enjoy dishes that instantly create atmosphere.  I want the author of a cookbook to walk me through the recipe like they would if I was a friend sitting in their kitchen. I want to hear a few 'secret' tips or pictures that make their recipes come alive, I want to read a re-telling of where they got the recipe, and why the book just wouldn't be complete without it.

My favorite cookbooks are ones that:
Read like a journal with chummy and sincere notes
Include bold, colorful pictures
Are effortlessly veggie-centric, not too meaty
Teach me how to cook

 I don't even attempt dishes that:
-Are convoluted, tricky, or easy to ruin.
-Take longer than 1/2 an hour
-Main dishes that will kill my health (that's what dessert is for!)
 -Require weird, expensive, or time consuming ingredients

  

“Try and hold it like a sandwich”    

“If it’s uncomfortable, put a cabbage leaf on it.”

This was advice given to me by a hospital lactation consultant.  If these comments seem ridiculous it’s because frankly, breastfeeding is sometimes a huge, milky, joke.   When I began nursing my first child I was traumatized. I felt side-wiped when the difficulties of breastfeeding caught me by surprise.  It was as if all of womankind was holding out on me, keeping the challenges of nursing closeted.  But when I probed most women with my overly personal questions, I found that most women shared taxing ‘new mom’ experiences that closely mirrored mine.   

I understand why moms were reluctant to caution me about breastfeeding woes. No one wants to spill the beans for a starry-eyed, expectant new mom.  It’s never fun to tell anyone, yet alone a wildly hormonal lady, their new life is going to suck (just for a few weeks.)   So I don’t want to be all Debbie-downer either, but someone needs to, so I’ll volunteer to let the cat out of the bag.

I hate to say it, but God got a little lazy when he came up with the mechanism for the onset of breastfeeding.  (Luckily, He totally redeemed himself with the invention of the human ability to self-produce a perfect food, and breast milk’s near magical antibiotic healing powers.) Most nursing discomforts stem from the fact that body 

parts are being used in new ways and seem totally confused.  For several weeks supply is oblivious to demand.  There’s edema, clogged ducts, achiness, sleeping on a beach towel, breast pumps (oh don’t even get me started on breast pumps!) and babies that are barely latching and overly gassy. It’s not pretty (and needless to say, NOT sexy!) and it’s much bigger problem than a cabbage leaf can solve.

Pregnancy books also do a lame-o job of prepping women for nursing. Usually the subject is only mentioned in passing and in muted, euphemized language.  Books swap out words like “rock boobs” for “mild engorgement”  and make it all sound like a cakewalk.  Yeah we’ve all seen women whip it out and start nursing, but it’s not as easy as it looks. Both mom and baby are newbies and it all flows in an awkward rhythm.  There is a trick to orchestrating it all- the technique, the timing, the hungry infant, and the attempt to keep things covered and prudent.

At a lactation consultant’s office you strip down for total stranger, you show ‘em your stuff, they critique your technique, they pat you on the back for the aptitude of your working parts. You’re usually greeted and bid farewell with “Good job, congrats on breastfeeding!  You’re doing great!” and leave feeling like you’ve just gained a much needed friend and a listening ear.  If you have yet to bear a child, then consider this post your official warning. Trust me,  I could write a jumbo sized, awkward, milky, book about it.

While we're talking about breastfeeding- here's a provocative breastfeeding poem, from an edgy chick with a great British accent. 

Time is evaporating and our darling baby girl is getting so big.  She makes us happy with her charming smiles.

Happy Fathers Day

This is a picture of my dad in Brazil, on his mission . (He's the light- haired one.) Fate gifted me this picture through Brady's uncle who took it many years ago, when they were 19. I keep it on my computer desktop because it makes me smile. My dad has a great sense of humor and a fun, light-hearted side to him that radiates in this picture.

It has been years since I was in Alaska with my dad for Father's Day but I nonetheless appreciate all his hard work and deliberate parenting. He's also a really loving grandpa and my kids adore him.

Just a few lessons I learned from Dad-

Educate yourself-  My dad is a jack of all trades. He's a financial analyst with an artistic streak and a knack for fixing cars, houses, gardens, guns. . .  He is always reading and researching new ideas and topics. My dad always supported us in school and when we did well made it clear that he was supremely proud of us. When I go back to school as a 30-something year old grad student, I can count on my dad to be a big support.

Enjoy nature-  My dad is a skilled woodsman with a deep respect for nature.  He can skin a fish with his eyes closed and spot even the most camouflaged of animals from a blank hillside. He taught us to glean enjoyment and reverence from the outdoors.

Be thrifty-   My dad is one of the least materialistic people I know.  He doesn't get caught up in the game of acquiring more stuff or making shallow comparisons. He's doesn't judge people for petty things. He is smart and deliberate about how he spends his money.

Whatever you do, do it well- My dad would often remind us not to do a "half job" on anything.  Often this was said when we were doing house chores but it also applied to other areas of our lives. My dad is a thorough person and someone you can count on for good work.

Help out when you can-My dad is always helping people in a bind.  I  have countless memories of my dad coming to the rescue and helping friends, family, scouts, or complete strangers.  Sometimes they're stuck in the mud, snow, or water and in need of an extra strong hand.  Other times they need his smarts a little of his time.  Either way, Dad's always helping.
 
Happy Father's Day!

summer blooms

Flowers never fail to make me happy.  The ones is my yard, while sparse and unimpressive, are one of my favorite things about summer. Almost all of the plants in my yard, the ones in these photos, were given to me by friends, family, and neighbors. I enjoy seeing them blossom year after year, change with the seasons, and multiply until it is time for them to be divided. My kids love to watch the plants and pick the flowers as soon as their buds open.  They plant seeds in the spring months and drench them with hose water on hot summer days. Flowers have a magical way of making life more colorful.