Not Ready to Say Good-bye. . . Again

I have been here before. The longer naps during the day. The slightly less-than-normal appetitie. (No diving head-first into the bowl!). The changing of food to increase interest in the least little bit of kibbles. The on the floor with bits of food in my palm, making "Yum" sounds and pretending to eat it myself. Once we get started, then the full cleaning of the plate eventually happens. And I sigh a big sigh of relief. It's gradual, this change. But once the pendulum swings, you prepare.   

Vegan Apple Crostata (On Reading "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand And . . . Knitting Until The Cows Come Home)

I subscribe to a "few" monthly magazines. Our post office likes to deliver (dump) them in the mailbox all at once. It overwhelms me when this happens. I have a suspended animation moment and place them on a book shelf in the living room where they are "stored" until I can decipher the order with which I will read them. Food magazines are usually first, then garden, then knitting (unless it's snowing outside, then the order is changed to: knitting, food, garden).

Cherry Plum Preserves on Homemade English Muffins (Canning Project No. 1)

 

I began canning about ten years ago. Literally "jumped" into it. My first canning exploit took me down the apple butter road. Fun but really, really messy. And truth be told, I was scared silly over the possibility of poisoning my husband with botulism. It was an intense first experiment. But all turned out well.

Vegan Almond Cake with Real Raspberry Buttercream Frosting (When A Hike in The Woods Turns Into: No Sleep for You!)

I woke up this morning to loud thunder, bright flashes of lightening, and lots of rain (that and a couple of dogs having their usual 'panting-drooling-storm-anxiety' moments). These weather changes in August can only mean one thing: September is just around the corner. And I'm more than ready for cool, crisp mornings that require a pink terry robe and fuzzy slippers to retrieve the paper. Alas, we are still seeing daytime temps in the nineties. Blech. Our electric bill from July arrived yesterday, too. To say I nearly fainted from both the heat of the day AND our bill would be an understatement. You'd think there'd be a dispensation for record summer heat the likes of which have not been felt in fifty years. You'd think.

Vegan Butter Bean, Roasted Red Pepper And Basil Soup (Charlie Brown's Hike)

This soup could also be called: Everything At The Farmer's Market Soup or In Kelly's Back Yard Soup. But that would be doing the soup an injustice because the real hero in this dish are the butter beans, aka "lima" beans. Which, by all accounts was a risky soup for me to serve given the "ew" from Dr. Thyme regarding the lovely lima. I've tried to sneak this bean in dishes before. "Are those lima beans. . . you aren't putting those in there, are you?!" Gawdforbid! My response is close to what my mother used to say (but never quite exactly because I'd need to have a cigarette hanging out of my mouth for that)--I simply say: Well, this is what the cook wanted!

Vegan Pineapple Upside-Down Cake (Dispatches from The Sewing Room And The Year-long Quilt: Finally!)

I'm dining solo this week so that called for baking a pineapple upside down cake. The quintessential cake. There had to be some major cake brilliance going on when this cake was conceived. Will I eat the entire cake myself? Yes. Probably. But not in one sitting for goodness sakes!

Tomato Salad . . . "Infused" (On Reading "A Singular Woman: The Untold Story of Barack Obama's Mother")

I walked ten feet out my kitchen door, traipsed through the veggie patch and whipped up this tomato salad for dinner. Better living through vegetable gardening. Tomatoes made an appearance in every meal we had this weekend. Right from my very own Victory Garden. I made breakfast hash--topped with tomatoes. I made veggie pizza--topped with tomatoes. Temperatures FINALLY dipped below 95 (only reached 90!)-- so I broke out the pizza stone--topped the pizza with tomatoes. Then last night made a tomato/eggplant risotto in my best friend: the pressure cooker. One can never have enough tomatoes. I have a bit of pride over this year's harvest. After all, I grew these little punkin' pies from itty-bitty seeds beginning in March! That seems like a lifetime ago.

Vegan Yellow Sheet Cake with Gobs of Chocolate Buttercream Frosting (Adieu, July. . . Hello Tomatoes!)

Yesterday was the anniversary of our mom's passing. It's been fourteen years. My sister and I sort of "dread" it--and probably will as long as we live. And we probably should be over it by now, but seems every year, as hard as I try to "get through just another day" it all comes back to me and I find I must busy my hands and mind to manage my way through the bitter twenty-four hour melancholy. I don't mean to say I sit in a corner and eat cake till the sun sets (well, yes, I sort of do. . . sit in a corner and eat cake until the sun sets). Sister and I spend time on the phone--letting each other know we are both here for each other. Share some memory. Think about what-ifs and all. It really grounds you--this loss. I can't explain why. It's as if having had our "mom" loss way too early in life for any daughter to experience, we've also been granted a very special gift. Last night as my sister and I were checking in with each other (we do that--check in to make sure we're "Okay" on this day)--my sister reminded me once again that with all our mother's faults and all the pent up "issues" we've both carried on through our lives as a result of our mom being "our mom" we still have each other and that, to us, is one of her greatest achievements ever: giving us each a sister. 

Vegan Raisin Bran Muffins (And. . . Why Book Stores Matter)

Nothing keeps me full and satisfied like eating cardboard for breakfast. I am not a newbie to the "fiber" trend. I have always believed that if you ate wood chips for breakfast, you'd not want more wood chips the rest of the day. And this is pretty much how I roll when it comes to baking with bran: the bulkier, the better. I've had these muffins for breakfast now for the past four days. I can attest to their sticks-to-your-ribs quality. They are superb for keeping the mid afternoon cravings at bay, but I cannot promise you will dodge the four-o'clock munchies.

Vegan White Cake with Raspberry Jam Filling (Hot Flashes And Hormones: The Joys of Almost Fifty!)

"Feel my forehead!" This has become my new mantra. Then I grab Dr. Thyme's reluctant hand and slap it up against my clammy head for him to get a taste of what it's like to be a "human generator". If the thought of cake and hot flashes don't appeal to you, well, that's too bad. I am coming undone. This heat, combined with my body's inability to find a normal core temperature, is absurd, maddening, frustrating and on and on . . . you get the idea.

This cake was the third of its kind on a quest to adapt THE best vegan white layer cake I could muster.

Vegan Po' Boy with Corn Fried Tempeh on Bernard Clayton's Monsieur Monfort's French Bread (The Joys of July And Gardening in 110 Degrees!)

I'm sitting inside next to the only open window I'll allow for daylight to stream in when the outside temperatures match a setting on my oven. We've reverted to "cave" mode officially. No daylight is allowed in the house after eleven or so. If I wake up more surly than usual--the blinds don't even get parted. The laptop has been given hiatus status because in my mind, why add to the misery and use up precious cold molecules to cool down a computer? If you are thinking, My god! She doesn't turn on her laptop?! No. I don't. There are days (d-a-y-s) when I do not even bother "logging" in. Sometimes I think my mind may shrivel up and "forget" all of my accumulated technological know-how. So far, that hasn't happened.

Peach Pie with Super-Flaky Crust (Vegan Vanilla Ice Cream "Mandatory"!)

I am the only person feasting on this amazing pie. It's criminal, I know. What's a girl to do when she has a craving so overwhelming she is willing to schlepp peaches from the store in the middle of one hundred-plus degree temps and buying out nearly half the store inventory of "locally-grown"? Well, make peach pie, of course--in a 425 degree oven, no less! Godforbid . . . am I acclimating to this semi-jungle climate, that I think nothing of cranking up the old stove for pie-baking in July? Heat be damned! Me of Northern roots and all? Hubby is not a fan--of the peach. Shame. And I cannot get him to budge on the matter either, even as I give commentary during each and every bite. (OMG, this is sooo good . . . my crust--it turned out PERFECTLY! I LOVE this pie!)