One of the hardest parts about being deliberate about what you eat is realizing, remembering and respecting that not everyone else is. Anyone who has ever been avoiding sugar and at a friend’s birthday party, been the lone vegetarian at a barbeque, or been hungry and gluten free in the middle of Nevada say “amen.” It is hard to not feel like a bit freakish when you aren’t doing what everyone else is doing; eating what everyone else is eating. I think about this one every time I wind up somewhere with my ideas about food and limited options, particularly in a social setting. It is just tricky. I don’t want to look showy or elitist, like, “Yeah, since I’m doer, not a hearer only about that whole ‘eat meat sparingly’ thing I am not having the token ward picnic hot dog” or saying “No, you go ahead and have my piece too, since those apples in the pie weren’t ethically raised.” (I know you don’t ethically raise apples, but you can grow them while reading very moral literature aloud.)
While there are some real reasons, like food allergies, where you can legitimately excuse yourself, other self-imposed restrictions, like healthfulness, are harder to navigate. Continue Reading →
Crusty bread with homemade goat cheese and apricot rosemary preserves.
I have so many memories of hot jam. Somehow eating steaming spoonfuls of the skimmed off jam foam on slices of homemade bread connected with some synapse in my brain that says, “you are home.” Sticky and sweet: strawberry, peach and raspberry were the flavors my mother made most. I loved them all on spread with into a sandwich with cream cheese on days I tired of peanut butter. I rarely tired of her jam. Homemade jar was a constant of my childhood. At the end of it, when my mom dropped me off at college, she first took me to the grocery store. She bought some strawberries, pectin and a few containers, since I owned nothing. Back at my new apartment, she made me one final batch. I happily ate that strawberry jam for months while I was at school, and felt settled and content whenever I pulled a precious container from the fridge. Continue Reading →
I believe that good things are always there, you just have to be willing to find them. They await the lucky and those who know how to look for them. In life and in foraged food. So, you don’t even need to ask if I am foraging here in Texas. If you know me by now you already know the answer to that one. I love few things as much as I love foraged fruit. In fact the image header for this blog is of the cherry trees I would pick from by my apartment in San Francisco. You could say I’m a fan. So when my husband informed me that he had found a mulberry tree at the park across the street and would like to pick some, I heartily agreed. We’ve had a good time with the mulberries. I just made some jam and sauce, my favorite baked oatmeal and a cobbler.
Then this happened this morning. And it was my favorite mulberry thing so far. Continue Reading →
I wanted to let you know of a slight change around here. I am now writing solo. Tiffany (Likely) started this blog several years ago as a project with a few friends as a place to share ideas, conversations, recipes, relevant articles and information on the Word of Wisdom. The blog had a handful of participants. Tiffany was at the helm. I didn’t know anything about this blog. And then I got a call to the stake activities committee, specifically for the fall event.
At the first planning meeting I met a woman dressed in grey tweed punctuated with pops of red patent. She sparkled. We shared a mutual friend who had told me I should meet Tiffany; I would love her.. She was right. I knew instantly I wanted to be her friend. During menu planning for the event, we realized we were both students of the same school of food thought. We continued talking after the meeting. She mentioned she had a blog and it preached of the same good news I was a eager convert to: Section 89. She asked if I would be interested, she was looking for a new contributor. I was delighted at the prospect. Continue Reading →
