The Bite of Oregon

Yesterday my family set out to experience the Bite of Oregon.  In case you don't know, it's a weekend-long celebration of Oregon food - a festival.  It benefits the Special Olympics.  We had never been to the Bite before, but we had a great time!  The weather was perfect, which helped too of course.

Kyle helps saute garlic for a cooking demonstration

We found kids' activities and presentations.  My favorite birthing center hosted a very comfortable place for mamas to relax and nurse their babies.  Pretty much everyone I saw was in a good mood.

Gabe

Oh, and....yeah.  There was really awesome food.

Chicken, spinach & artichoke crepe

chocolate-covered fruit kabob

The kids decorated their own chef hats.

And there was a fun Food Network-style Iron Chef competition. 

Iron Chef Oregon - Round 1

It was a very worthwhile outing, and I think it's safe to say that we'd all love to go again next year.

Can I tell you a little secret?  Prior to The Big Trip, I nevereverever would have suggested doing this.  I would've wanted to.  I might have stayed home and felt a little sad that we "couldn't go," but felt convinced that it would be too much work.  Not worth it: too hard.

I would have been wrong.  Let me say it again, taking that trip was empowering.  On the same level that natural childbirth is empowering.  We can take on challenges, we can step out, be away from home at naptime, and we will figure it out.  The baby will deal.  We'll survive, and we might even be happy that we did it.

Numerous times on our outing, we heard the words "That's a lot of kids."  And you know what? It is.

I never thought I would have such a large family, not ever.  But I do.  We do.  God has blessed us in this.  It's a challenge, it's stretching, and it's fun.  It's our family.  And I am proud of my kids - in the house or out of it.

quinoa chicken salad

One of my favorite summer dishes is Quinoa Chicken Salad.  It is probably the most versatile thing I serve to my family: it can be hot or cold, and one can easily change up the meat, vegetables, even the dressing.  It all depends how you like it and what you have on hand.  I doubt I've ever made it precisely the same way twice.  All the same, here is a rough blueprint of what I do when I prepare this "recipe."

The idea of this dish was inspired primarily by The Nourishing Gourmet's Everyday Italian Rice Salad.  I use the dressing from that recipe, although I'm halving it here in this context.

Ingredients
1 c. quinoa, uncooked
2 c. Water
2 T. raw vinegar or lemon juice
---------------------------
2 c. water or bone broth
1 c. cooked chicken, shredded
2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
1 c. raw cheddar cheese, cubed
1/2 c. Peas
1/2 c. Carrots, shredded
1/2 c. Green onions, sliced

Dressing: 1/3 c. Extra virgin olive oil
2 T. Raw apple cider vinegar
3/4 t. dried basil
1/2 T. Dijon mustard
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 t. sea salt
dash of black pepper


Make the salad
The night before, combine the first three ingredients and let rest overnight.  (This helps neutralize the anti-nutrients found in quinoa and other seeds, as well as nuts and whole grains.  For a superb chart on soaking and cooking grains properly, click HERE.)

The following day, rinse quinoa well and place in a medium pot.  Add 2 c. bone broth or water.  I also add a dash of salt and a dash of extra virgin olive oil at this point.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat, cover and cook 25-30 minutes.  When the quinoa is done cooking, remove from heat but leave covered for 15 additional minutes.  At this time, uncover & fluff with a fork.

Add mix-ins to the quinoa.  Prepare dressing and pour over the other ingredients, combining well.   Enjoy!

We love this salad hot, but it really shines as a cold main dish on hot summer nights.  As I said, feel free to play with the meats, vegetables, cheese, etc.  You could even go with an entirely different dressing: the possibilities are endless!

where the grass is greener

Lately my daughter has been insisting that she has blue eyes.  I tell her "No, sweetheart, your eyes are brown.  Just like mine!  And your brothers', too.  Brown, dark, beautiful brown.  Like chocolate."

Sometimes she'll be satisfied.  But a few hours later she will start in again.  "My eyes blue! Blue eyes," she says, beaming at the mirror.

And it pains me a bit.  You see, when I was a little girl, I desperately wanted blonde hair and blue eyes.  I thought my own coloring was boring, but ...oh!  To have shining golden hair, bright blue eyes, to wear a pink ballerina's tutu - these were my dreams as a young girl.

So many times, I watch my little daughter.  The way she walks, her perfect confidence that she is lovely and adored.  I have a small tiara which sits on my jewelry box.  The other day I let her wear it for the first time.  We ran to the bathroom mirror: she to see how she looked, me because I wanted to witness her reaction.  Her face positively glowed.  I said "Oh Elise, you look beautiful."  Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, she looked at me with an expression of perfect happiness and breathed: "Yes."

I so want her to keep that.

I  want her to move with an air of confidence, to trust that what she has been given is just what she should have.  To like - nay, love, the color of her hair.  To fully appreciate the warm depth of her brown eyes.

And I suspect that much of that depends on me.

How I perceive my sense of womanhood.  Accentuating my femininity, embracing my body, my face...and yes, my eyes.  It's so very hard for me.  I made peace with my eye color years ago, but accepting other aspects of my appearance is a constant struggle for me.  Yet, I must, for myself as well as for her.

It isn't easy, mothering a little girl.  It's a joy, make no mistake - but what a responsibility!  I need to chose the way I speak about myself so, so carefully.  But beyond that, I want to learn to love myself better. To be thankful for my strong body, my health.  To thank the Lord for the belly that has carried six babies, the hips that have birthed five.  To accept that He has endowed me with my coloring, that He chose the hue of my hair and the shade of my eyes just for me.

To believe that I am beautiful in His sight, just as she is so beautiful in mine.

It isn't easy, mothering a little girl.  But it is a blessing...in more ways than one.

fourth and first

like mother, like son?

Sometimes I worry for my boy.

He's so very much like me, in many of the ways I am uncomfortable with myself.  The quality which has stood out to me lately is how we both tend  to respond to friendships.  We have the inclination, when we find someone with whom we really seem to connect, to form a strong bond to that person.  To count on them, miss them when they're not around, wonder what they'd think of this, that, or the other thing.

And I suppose that's not necessarily bad...

But it leaves one so open to being hurt.  Perhaps it's human nature to be forgotten when there is a distance or passage of time.  Or simply to be replaced.  Maybe it's something everyone goes through.  Being burned - forgotten, abandoned - by a friend.  Putting yourself out there, believing you've found something special, then finding that it wasn't so special to them.

So when I see my son put his heart and soul into a friendship, I find myself trembling a little.  I watch, hoping he won't have to feel the pain of rejection ... not just yet.  I bite my lip against warning him not to "come on too strong," not to "overstay his welcome," not to make himself tiresome.  I stay silent, hoping.  Hoping that the burden I've carried won't become his.  Praying that the ways he reminds me so much of myself won't necessarily mean he'll walk the same road.

Swallowing the lump in my throat.  Letting go.

Friendship - real friendship - is a funny thing.  It feels like such a gamble.  You risk so, so much.  But the payoff may make it all worthwhile.  Is it true, it is "better to have loved and lost" than not traveled the path at all?  In spite of everything....

of boys and blueberries

I went out to the yard in the afternoon to check on the blueberries.  There are four bushes against the back fence.  Like four siblings, they are alike and yet distinct.  The bush on the far west is the one I always seem to approach first.  It is full and flourishing, its branches heavy with berries.  Many were ripe and blue, ready to be folded into pancake batter, blended into smoothies, or simply popped into watering mouths.

At last I stepped away from the westward bush.  I moved down the short row, peering and choosing.  When I got to the bush on the east end, I stopped short.  It is smaller than its sisters.  This bush is mostly leaves - some berries here and there, but considerably fewer than the other bushes.

This may be silly, but I spoke to it.  "Well there.  You're not doing so well, are you...?  Hmm."

But I realized that the only reason I made such a judgment was the obvious contrast of this last bush to the others. The others were heavy with berries in various states of ripeness.  This one, the smaller one, had berries.  It was healthy, green, producing.  It was producing fruit.  Still, when compared with the others before it - well, I guess you could say it wasn't growing at the same rate.

And I thought about my boys.

So similar, yet distinct.  Each with his own strengths and weaknesses.  Each individual, unique.  Growing, changing - but not always at the same pace.  It is hard not to compare at times.  The inclination is natural and strong, and yet...none of my boys is the standard for any of the others.

The God who created them knows them inside and out.  He knows the end from the beginning.  He knows, far better than I, strengths, weaknesses, and how both virtues and vices might be used to bring Him glory.  I must encourage each man-child (and my daughter too) to fulfill his own unique purpose, on his own unique timeline - according to the blueprint of the One who designed every shred of DNA and knows every hair on their heads.

I cannot ask them to fit the same mold, and I cannot hold any one up as the example to follow.

There is only One.

So I'll water, nurture...shine light in dark places.  I'll point to the Way and do a little weeding here and there.  But the ending?  I'll leave that to the master gardener, who understands this process far better than I do.

I'm so very glad I can leave it in His hands.

the would-be gardener

my garden in July 2011

I want to be a gardener.

I've sort of fallen in love with the aesthetics of it.  The sunlight, the nourished roots digging deep into that soil.  The water droplets clinging to green leaves.  I love the idea of growing something worth having - all beginning with a mere seed.

I'm not very good at it, though.

This year marks our second attempt at a garden at this home.  Last year was terribly hit and miss, and this year I vowed to do better.  I planned with great care and enthusiasm.  I painstakingly decided what should go in full sun, part sun, etc.  I bought organic seeds and starts.

But I planted too soon.

During a sunny week in the beginning of May I let my enthusiasm get the best of me.  And then, it got cold and rainy.  It was too cold, too wet.  I turned out to be a fair-weather gardener.  Almost none of my seeds came up.  My starts are surviving at the moment, but oh...the cucumbers and the basil I'd so hoped to be harvesting by now have not grown at all.

We had snap peas for a while.  I have some lettuce up at last, though it's been a bit nibbled.  Happily, the blueberry bushes (which I don't really count as being in the garden, they're so effortless) are still producing beautifully.  And my darling tomato plants are about to take off, much to my delight.  I don't really think there's such a thing as too many tomatoes.  And if I should find myself with such a thing, I shall make many, many batches of Roasted Summer Tomatoes.  There's nothing like the taste of summertime "in the bleak midwinter."

But that's all.  That's it.

No oodles of pickling cucumbers.  No cucumbers at all, in fact.  And certainly no basil.  Sadness.

I'm sure there are still things I can plant, even at the beginning of August - but I'm unsure of myself and my region.  I don't trust the weather; I don't trust my meager knowledge of gardening.  As I told my oldest son just yesterday, I'm still figuring this stuff out.

But I'm determined to get there.  One day I shall have a flourishing garden.  I shall have an abundance of produce which I can offer to my neighbors.  I shall have this, that, and the other thing.  I desperately want to figure this out: to learn how to use the earth - sun - water - air...to feed my family.

our snap peas, May 2012

So I will keep trying.  Perhaps failing, but hopefully getting a little better, wiser, more experienced each time around.  Because honestly, I do.  I can't help it -

I want to be a gardener.