Food – Page 9

If I Ran the Zoo…

Posted on March 29, 2020by sue boardman

With apologies to Dr. Seuss, my head seems to have appropriated the title of one of his famous books and it’s running like a loop inside me.

I’m pretty sure one of the lines is, If I ran the Zoo, I know just what I’d do…

Anybody with me???

Let’s agree together that it’s not necessary to be experts in anapestic tetrameter, as the good doctor was, to get in the conversation! (Not even The West Wing tried to explain this one, but, if you grew up since the time of the Boomers in the USA, I’ll bet it’s in your head!)

Skipping, for the sake of positive vibes, the first 482 things I’d do, I’ll move along to one I actually have some influence over.

If I ran the zoo, I know just what I’d do. I’d feed those who are ill big bowls of real soup. That’s just what I’d do.

And, since one of those who are ill is one of mine, too, the soup pot is feeling quite special just now!

At this point, I’m going to count on you to keep up the whole metric thing, if you like, so I can share an actual recipe. (I tried to buy fish soup – the patient’s request – and have it delivered but it seems there is none to be had so old-fashioned was the order of the day. And my heart is happy!)

Well, maybe not a recipe, so much, as a process…

CHECK WITH RECIPIENT FOR ALLERGIES!!!
Pull out your biggest pot. Figure the dimensions of about 1/3 of the pot’s volume. (Hand gestures are helpful!)
Procure bony pieces of fish equal to the volume estimated above. Preferably white fleshed fish like grouper, halibut, etc. (Salmon is good but makes a stronger flavored broth which isn’t always optimal for those who are healing.) In my case, 2 big heads and a meaty fish “collar” which is the neck piece. *If you happen to have left-over crab claw or shrimp shells in your freezer, and I did, you’re good. If not, add more fish, or head-on, de-veined wild shrimp, up to about 1/2 the volume of your pot.
Place raw fish pieces in stock pot. Cover with COLD water, about 2″ deeper than level of fish. Add between 2 Tbsp. and 1/4 c. (depending on size of pot) acidic liquid (white wine, apple cider vinegar, white balsamic vinegar, or fresh lemon juice… I used 1/2 white balsamic and 1/2 lemon juice.) Allow to rest, covered, at cool room temp for 45 min. This draws all the healing magic from the bones and cartilage and into your broth!
Bring to just boiling over med. high heat. Skim, using the closest thing you’ve got to the magic wand in the photo above, removing foam and fuzzy stuff from surface several times until you can tell that you’ve won.
While magic comes to boil, roast crab/shrimp shells, if using, in 450 F. oven, drizzled with good olive oil for 15 – 20 min. until they smell fabulous. Add to skimmed pot and skim some more.
Add aromatics and herbs as desired. (Onions, garlic, thyme, rosemary, fresh bay leaves, fennel fronds, carrot feathers, parsley stems, celery leaves, proportionately to your pot.) If you need to add additional water, it must be steaming hot!!!
Reduce heat and simmer, lid off, for at least 2 and up to 4 hours. You want medium sized bubbles breaking the surface gently – not boiling!
Remove from heat. Drain, strain, scoop carefully as needed to separate broth from all the solids. Discard solids. (Really! All the good stuff is now in the broth.)
Cool broth on counter until cool enough to add to fridge. I use stainless water bottles, filled about 2/3 full, that have been frozen to speed this along.
Strain again, if needed.
Chill overnight in fridge. Package, freeze, and label, leaving about 1″ headspace in containers. (DO NOT put hot broth in glass or plastic containers! I use BPA-free plastic. Glass breaks and ruins everything.)
While magic broth is freezing, set up an appropriately “distanced” arrangement for delivering. This may well involve text messages and leaving by the door. We’re being adaptable, here!

Broth may be heated gently and sipped from mug or bowl, with or without additions such as chopped veg, cooked rice, additional fish, etc. (Given current circumstances, I’d suggest heating broth/soup briefly all the way to a boil before serving.)

Take a bow!

If you’re like me, there are still things you would do if you ran the zoo. I’m with you. This is one that we can manage, which makes it – or your version of it – a great place to start. And if, like me, you have a really big pot, you’ll have some magic for you and even more to share.

We’ve got this! (With much appreciated help from the Legendary Husband!)

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

Can you can???

Posted on March 25, 2020by sue boardman

Thirty years ago, almost exactly, I was preparing to graduate from Columbia Theological Seminary, planning a wedding, and exploring options for a call to serve a church.

One evening I went to a meeting on campus. It was an opportunity to talk with pastors of small, rural churches in a southern state and their wives (!). One of those pastors’ wives asked me if I could can.

A few questions helped me realize that she meant putting lots of veg in glass jars.

The answer then was the same as it is now. No. I don’t can.

With a few more questions, I learned that for the first three years her husband served a particular church, his “raise” came in the form of one of the members plowing them up an extra acre of garden.

All of which feels even more real now than it did then!

There’s a big online conversation happening in the corner of Atlanta where we hang out made up of folks who are wanting to learn about urban agriculture, given the current grocery shopping situation.

Who knew we’d be ahead of the curve???

Even though there isn’t much happening in the garden yet this year, there are 3 things on my list for today. The first is an online Red Thread Circle event around the topic of Medicine Baskets. (It’s an Intentional Creativity® thing.)

Then, there’s painting. I have three “in progress” just now.

This is What the World Needs Now. She’s almost finished!

And, then, there’s freezing. I still don’t can but we do have extra veg and they’re headed for the freezer, some blanched, some roasted, and all wrapped, ready for the soup pot. Especially the asparagus!

There’s also one other thing on my list, though it’s more of a non-thing.

I am fed up with crooked, fear-mongering politicians so I’m weeding my email list.

I’m unsubscribing to all the many, many emails that pretend to want to know what I think but actually want to scare me into “chipping in” to change things. I’m unsubscribing, with best wishes, to requests to help elect this candidate or that in places where I can’t vote. I’m unsubscribing to name calling and doom & gloom.

Instead, I’m going with gratitude and hope.

Gratitude for honest, concerned representatives of “we the people.”

Hope for some new names in the news, standing up for all of us.

And the kind of hope that comes with a contribution or two to people and causes focused on a future where as many of us as possible have what we need. I’m truly grateful for them.

I can’t do it all. Neither can you. I can stay home. Mostly. I can freeze veg. I can encourage loved ones and reach out to friends. And I can paint stories of hope.

Fear doesn’t help us learn and grow. It makes us angry and separates us.

But, because fear is a feeling, we don’t get to choose not to feel it, if we do.

We DO get to choose not to act out of it. Not to be defined or limited by it. And, usually, it’s a choice we need to make over and over again.

That’s okay.

Just think about what the world might be like if we all joined in and kept choosing hope, over and over again. Even if we can’t can!

ps… Earlier, I sat down with my lunch and flipped on the tv. What appeared was about the last 20 minutes of the movie, E.T. Context is, indeed, everything, which had me first hating/envying all the haz-mat suits and then giving thanks for the courage of those kids in helping one who was different, even in the midst of great unknown. May it be so for me, as well. And for us. ALL of us.

Art Journey Contemplations Food Garden Grandmothers

My Kitchen Smells Like Heaven!

Posted on March 15, 2020by sue boardman

If you’ve been hanging around a while, it’s probably no surprise that there’s a huge cauldron of Bird Soup bubbling on the stove. This batch began with what was in the freezer. Roasted turkey legs and bones from Thanksgiving. Assorted carcasses from roasted chickens. A small guinea hen and a package oddly labeled turkey paws from one of my favorite farmers. A few other bits and pieces, carefully saved for the treasures they are. I started last night.

Then, today, a foraging mission to the garden for fresh rosemary and thyme which just happen to be of the antimicrobial sort. Plus onions, garlic, fennel, and fresh bay leaves, all organic and good for body and soul.

Just in case you’re feeling it, click here for the magic recipe. Just substitute whatever bird bones you have.

This is not a time for the freezer to be short on bone broth!

Dave once asked me, on a college break, why I had waited until he left home to become a Jewish Italian grandmother!

We’ll set aside for a moment the possibility that it took that long for me to have the freedom to explore and go with We’re not ready until we’re ready!

On the other hand, my recent DNA test suggests that it’s entirely likely that my ancestral journey had more than a few Jewish Italian grandmothers along the way, which totally works for me!

No matter the history or the genetics, this seems like a time for soup. If possible, enough to share.

It also seems like a time for listening to wisdom. In my world, wise words are volunteering from books that live in my head and from big-hearted folks in the news and from my kids, via the wonders of cell phones.

I dreamed about The Velveteen Rabbit on Friday night. You know the story. I suspect wee are getting real in these days.

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

And then a quote from Sen. Nina Turner who is the national co-chair of Bernie Sanders’ campaign:

We are not guided by our fear, but motivated by our fierceness.

And a Facebook video I can’t post here due to technical difficulties which are on the list of things to fix. You’ve probably seen one like it. Bare streets in Italy with quarantined Italian people hanging off balconies, singing and sharing music.

My favorite features a violinist playing Leonard Cohen’s magnificent Hallelujah!

I love the song but it’s way out of my limited singing range and I’m absolutely no violinist. Still, it works and I suspect you can imagine along with me.

Remember to put cobblestones on your Italian streets!

And, when it comes to where you live, get your medical information from doctors and scientists. In the USA, the CDC is a good bet.

If Spring has begun in your yard, consider growing some herbs and veg. Again, a body and soul thing.

If that doesn’t work, check out hamama.com to grow micro greens indoors.

The cool little quilts last for up to a year so if, by chance, you are a little behind, NOW is the time! Mine have taken up residence in the studio where the lights are good.

Err on the side of caution for you and for those around you, but hold on to that fierceness and keep wisely living out of your sense of calling or mission or destiny, with compassion. I’ll be right there beside you.

Next up: InstantPot full of roasted stone crab shells which have been waiting patiently in the freezer for a moment such as this, sheets in the washer, and a cup of ginger tea. Oh! There are also more hot pink sequins to paste! Artwork to follow…

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

Traditions, Old & New

Posted on February 26, 2020by sue boardman

Today is, for many of us, Ash Wednesday. Depending on your particular tradition, it might mean anything from the day to recover from Mardi Gras, to a day of fasting (Possibly following Shrove Tuesday pancakes last night!) to solemn church services, marked with something I wouldn’t personally have named imposition of ashes on the first day of the Lenten season.

Frankly, these were not traditions I was raised with in what used to be the old Southern Presbyterian Church. And, for many years, now, Ash Wednesday has reminded me of sugar bowls.

I can see the question marks sprouting over your head! It happened like this.

There I was, in the first church I served, in a tiny southern town, when Ash Wednesday rolled around for the first time. My immediate question had to do with where the ashes came from. Historically, the answer is that they come from the palm fronds from the prior year’s Palm Sunday service which were carefully saved, dried, and burned to make, well, ashes.

All interesting in theory, but what if your current church hadn’t observed Palm Sunday last year???

Answer: a sandwich bag full of ashes from the fireplace of my colleague in ministry who served the “big” church up town.

Next problem: What to put the ashes in for the service?

For this I turned to the source of all liturgical answers, the Cokesbury catalog. There the answer was something called an ash pyx which they were oh, so happy to sell me and deliver.

You guessed it. Lots of money! And a glimmer of inspiration. You see, the ash pyx in the catalog looked surprisingly like the silver plated sugar bowl in a tea set I won once upon a time at a dog show.

Problem solved! Somehow, we made it through the service and all the “Why?” questions that went with it.

Frankly, I still have a few “Why?” questions about the season of Lent which involves the weeks prior to Easter.

The oldest traditions are all about sacrifice and denial. Put most simply, one gives something up during Lent as a remembrance of the sacrifice Jesus made.

Lately, though, I’ve come to think of Lent as a time to add something to life. Something that allows us to live more fully in love and joy, which is, I suspect, more what Jesus had in mind.

One of my favorite examples came to me in the words of the wildly wondrous artist and author, Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, known to many, many of us as SARK, who talks about radical self care.

The details of such a spirit of care would, undoubtedly, be different for each of us. I began today with a bunch of fasting (!) lab work and a curious procedure known as a ginger compress designed to encourage my adrenal glands to do their jobs a bit better.

And, no, they didn’t cover that when I was in nursing school!

Depending on your tradition and how you learned to count such things, there are 39 more days of Lent, plus Sundays, which are designated Feast Days.

My plan, as you probably guessed, is, indeed, radical self care. (Thanks, Susan!)

More attention to rest. A firm intention to paint every day. Really! Even knowing that some of those days will probably be 3 prayer dots. Creating. And healing food.

Some of it really good chocolate. And the chicken, sustainably raised on local pastures, who followed me home from Pine Street Market.

This coming Friday has been designated roast chicken night at our house. (I’ll admit to designs on a big pot of broth to follow!)

And, just in case radical self care sounds like a plan to you, I’d love to hear how it goes. For starters, click here for my perfect roast chicken recipe. (It’s kind of got a Lent thing going for it!)

Enjoy! (More about the photo as my workshop, Holy Polka Dots, comes to life. Teaser… Anne Lamott will be involved!)

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

As Promised, Really Excellent Chocolate!

Posted on February 9, 2020by sue boardman

In the land of Intentional Creativity®, where I spend much of my time lately, we show up for transformation and community and fun.

We are sustained by roses and almonds and chocolate. So much so that planning a workshop experience means hunting ideal sources for food, as well as for paints and canvases. For a serious real-food foodie like me, it’s just that much more fun!

Here, with thanks to Danette May, who got me off to a great start, is the recipe for my latest creation:

Grammy’s Chocolate Almond Bark

Ingredients:

1 c. organic roasted almonds with sea salt, coarsely chopped if desired
1 Tbsp. + 1/2 tsp. coconut oil, measured while solid
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1/2 c. finely chopped excellent dark chocolate, like Greene & Black’s 85% cacao (about 2/3 of a 3.17 oz. bar) or dark chocolate chips
1 scoop Cacao Bliss or a slightly rounded Tbsp. of organic raw cacao powder
1 good pinch Anthony’s espresso baking powder, if desired (or instant espresso granules)
1 tsp. Maldon flaked sea salt for garnish if using unsalted almonds

Recipe doubles easily!

Line a sheet tray with unbleached parchment paper.

In a heavy saucepan (or double boiler) combine chocolate, coconut oil, and vanilla extract. Stir over low heat until completely melted. Add Cacao powder and espresso powder and stir thoroughly. Add almonds and mix until covered.

Pour chocolate mixture onto tray with parchment paper, spreading evenly with a rubber spatula to a thin layer.

If you used salted almonds, you’re done. If you used unsalted nuts, sprinkle evenly with sea salt flakes, or omit if you prefer.

Refrigerate for an hour or until well set. Break into bite sized pieces and store, tightly covered, in fridge or freezer. Allow to warm a few minutes to cool room temp before serving, preferably with roses on the table!

Technically, I suppose, you could call it candy. I call it sustenance. Body. Mind. Spirit.

Or, in the eternal words of Charles M. Schulz…

All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.

Stay tuned for workshops coming soon!

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

If you need a reminder, too…

Posted on February 2, 2020by sue boardman

One of the good things about being a writer is that many of us are “afflicted” with the habit of writing down wise things our teachers have said through the years.

Then, when the world feels like somebody just yelled, “Tilt!”, we have someplace to start hunting for words that just might sustain us. Rather like the tagline on this blog.

…situational angst and stardust soup

I don’t know about you, but the news over the last couple of days sent me rooting through my mental and electronic attics for some words like that. Whether it’s a surprise for you or something already settled into one of your mental boxes, this ancient Sufi teaching story is the best I’ve got in this moment. (This is how I learned it, in a training group for hypnotherapists, 12 or 15 years ago.)

The Wise Old Man at the Top of the Mountain

Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, there was a farmer. The farmer lived in a small village in a far-away land, near a mountain.

One morning the farmer got up and went out to care for his animals. As he went about his chores, the farmer, who was very poor, noticed that his cow was missing. “Oh, no!” cried the farmer. “Whatever will we do?” The farmer was very upset and he had no idea what to do next. As the day went on, the farmer became even more unhappy. Finally he decided that he had to do something. There was only one thing he could think of to do.

He walked sadly down the little road until it started to lead up the mountain. The farmer climbed and climbed up the mountain. His feet hurt and it was beginning to get cold, but still the farmer climbed. When he got to the top of the mountain, he found a cave where there lived a wise old man.

“Farmer!” called the wise old man, for he was used to having visitors like this. “Come in. Sit by the fire. Have a cup of tea. And tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer bowed to the wise old man and accepted his cup of tea. And then, with a shaking voice and a tiny tear in his eye, the farmer told the wise old man that his cow was gone. Disappeared.

“How will my family live?” the farmer asked. “We need the cow for milk and to plow our fields. Without her, we will starve.”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands, as he looked deep into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer leaped up, dropping his tea on the floor. This man wasn’t wise! Clearly losing their cow was terrible news. And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Several days went by. The farmer spent a lot of time telling his neighbors about his trip up the mountain and how strange it was that the old man just said, “We don’t know if this is good news or bad news.”

The next morning the very worried farmer got up and went out to begin his work. There, much to his surprise, was his cow. And not only his cow, but a big, strong bull as well. The farmer was so surprised and so happy that he dropped his tools and went, as fast as he could go, back up the mountain to see the wise old man.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea.”

The farmer was so excited he was nearly bursting with his news.

“Tell me what brings you here today,” said the wise old man.

“Well!” said the farmer. “I got up this morning and there was my cow. She came home! And not only that, but there was a beautiful, strong bull in the yard as well! Our family is saved! We’ll be rich!”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands as he looked into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer had never heard anything so silly in his life! Of course this was good news! And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Some more time passed.

One day, the farmer’s son, who was just learning to use the plow to dig up the earth for planting, hitched the big, strong bull to the plow and began to work. It was a nice, sunny day and the farmer’s son was thinking about many things. Suddenly, a very large bee flew up and stung the bull right on his nose.

Well! The bull bellowed really loudly, as bulls are known to do, and began to run. The farmer’s son wasn’t strong enough to hold on to the plow. He fell over right in the field and heard a loud sound coming from his leg. Suddenly his leg began to hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. All he could do was sit in the dirt and watch as the bull dug up the earth and ran, as fast as he could go, right through the fence and away down the road.

The farmer, who loved his son, heard him crying and went running to see what was wrong. There was his dear son on the ground. The field was destroyed where it was all dug up. The bull had clearly crashed through the fence and run away. The farmer did not know what he and his family would do so he did the first right thing. He went and got the village doctor who came and cared for his son.

The boy’s leg was broken. The doctor tied tree branches to each side of it, as they used to do long ago, and wrapped it tight with some old pieces of cloth. The farmer and the doctor carried the boy to a small porch on the front of their tiny home. The doctor said the boy would have to stay there for many weeks and would not be able to walk.

The farmer was more and more upset. In fact, he was more upset than he’d ever been. Finally, because he didn’t know what else to do, he went and climbed slowly up the mountain.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea. Tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer was so upset he could barely talk. Finally he managed to explain what had happened. His field was ruined. The bull was gone, and with him the plow. And his dear son’s leg was broken and would not heal for many weeks.

With that, the farmer flung his tea cup to the ground and went stomping down off the mountain, threatening to tell everyone he knew that the wise old man was not wise at all, but mean and just plain crazy.

The farmer was so angry he could barely do his work. A few days passed as he cared for his son without crutches or wheelchairs or any of the things we might use in our time.

Then, one morning, the farmer woke to all kinds of noise in the village. There were soldiers from far away on the road, with wagons, capturing all the young men of the village to go and fight in a war. People were crying and begging that their sons not be taken.

The farmer’s son couldn’t go, because of his broken leg.

When the soldiers had left the village, the farmer went and fixed tea for his son and himself. And he pulled a bit at his long, skinny beard and said, with a light of understanding in his eye, “We really don’t know, do we?

(Boardman, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope )

It feels a lot like that around here. And I’m really glad I know this story!

So, lacking the knees to climb our local mountain, I made myself a cup of tea and collaged some of this story to my almost finished painting, The Wisdom of Trees & Grandmothers. Then, I started thawing things headed for my very biggest stock pot. It’s time to boil bones!

Which is likely to be a good thing, even in the midst of a world full of things we only think we know about.

p.s………. Great day making art with awesome women. Watch for next workshop info, coming soon!

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

When the 30 second dance party involves paint…

Posted on January 29, 2020by sue boardman

Yep. It’s #WIP Wednesday again. And there’s lots of stuff in progress around here!

It’s also catch-up day for one of my projects. Never mind for a moment that catch-up month might be more useful, I’m closer than I was before. (Except for the tonnage of emails that showed up while I was painting!)

The next right thing, however, is feeding the Studio Angels who seem to be of the opinion that they’ve worked hard and earned their supper.

Kind of like a brief commercial break! I’ll be back…

So, if you’re conversant with Grey’s Anatomy or creator, Shonda Rhimes’ book Year of Yes, you’re probably checked off on 30 second dance parties. So is Shiloh Sophia McCloud, though hers generally take longer than 30 seconds and are part of the creative journey.

One was called for today. It’s big fun! Also, potentially kind of messy.

Intentional Creativity® dance parties are more about integrating what’s becoming conscious during the creative process than they are about a break state after something stressful, though both are often helpful.

Today’s was all about claiming our paths to this point in our journey and putting all the stuff – easy and very hard – into the work. It’s really freeing and totally NOT about staying in the lines!

Here are a couple glimpses of what’s under all that integrating paint. At least what’s under the paint on my canvas. I was just doing what the Muses were whispering in my ears.

The very pink photo, way up at the top, is a glimpse of another #WIP, which seems to want to be about trees and growth rings and grandmothers.

There is much more work to be done.

After I get a dry brined chuck roast tucked safely into the InstantPot so that we, like the Studio Angels, can have a fine dining experience.

There’s Pine Street Market pimento cheese tucked into the fridge for Sunday’s workshop.

And a new recipe for Dark Chocolate Almond Bark. We’re liable to need a “test” batch before Sunday!

Transformation can be hungry work. Good chocolate and almonds are part of the ritual!