Sunday Soup

I just love soup. Warm, hearty, and served in a bowl - it's the ultimate comfort food. During the school year, I typically make a batch of soup each weekend to eat for lunch that week. Any leftovers beyond that are frozen for a quick, last-minute dinner option.

Last fall, I posted soup recipes each week, and I hope to continue that practice this year. Here's a new one that highlights one of Colorado's greatest seasonal crops: Olathe sweet corn.

Sweet Corn Chowder

1 1/2 T. butter

2 slices bacon, diced

2 shallots, diced

1/2 yellow onion, diced

1 t. dried basil

1 bay leaf

6 ears sweet corn (Olathe is best)

1/2 t. salt

1/4 t. pepper

2 c. chicken stock

1 c. milk

2 T. scallions, sliced thin 

Fresh grated Parmesan

Remove husks from corn and slice corn kernels from the cob. Cut cobs in half and place to the side. 

Melt butter in a heavy pot over medium. Add bacon and cook for 4 minutes. Add shallots, onion, basil, and bay leaf; cook 5 minutes. 

Add corn kernels, salt, and pepper; cook 1 minute. Add stock, milk, and corn cobs (about 6 halves) to the pot. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. 

Remove corn cobs and bay leaf from the pot. Using an immersion blender, partially puree the soup. Season and serve, sprinkling with scallions and Parmesan. 

Serves 4-6.

Summertime Pasta

I just love pasta, pretty much any day of the year. However, as pasta typically serves to be a comfort food for me, so I have many warm and cheesy recipes for cold winter nights. In the summertime, I struggle to find pasta recipes beyond the typical antipasto or macaroni salad - delicious, yes, but so boring. So if you're looking to add some pizazz to your summer pasta options, here are a few creative options.

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Matchless Macaroni Salad

An old standby of my mother's - from the Colorado Cache cookbook 

2  1/2 cups seedless green grapes

8 oz shell macaroni or bowties

8 oz pitted ripe black olives, drained + halved

3/4 cup chopped green onions

3 oz blue cheese, crumbled

salt and pepper to taste

1/4 t. garlic powder

3 T. lemon juice

1 cup mayonnaise

Cook macaroni according to package directions. Drain. Combine hot macaroni with grapes, olives, onion, cheese, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Mix together lemon juice and mayonnaise until smooth. Combine macaroni and mayonnaise until evenly mixed. Refrigerate covered several hours or overnight. Add more mayonnaise if desired, before serving. Serves 8-12.

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Nouveau Macaroni Salad

From www.101cookbooks.com, one of my favorite healthy cooking sites. 

Unique and refreshing!

1 pound elbow macaroni

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

4 cups thinly sliced green onions

3 medium cloves garlic, chopped

salt/pepper to taste

zest and juice of one lemon

1/3 cup grated Parmesan

4 big handfuls arugula (or spinach)

1 large apple, diced

Cook the macaroni in a large pot of well-salted water per package instructions. Set aside at least 1/2 cup of the pasta water. Then drain pasta and set aside.  In the meantime, heat the olive oil in a large skillet until hot. Add most of the green onions, all of the garlic, and a pinch of salt. Cook until the onions soften, and the garlic begins to take on some color, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool for a couple minutes.


Use a hand blender or food processor to puree the green onion mixture along with 3/4 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, zest of the lemon, half the lemon juice, and the reserved pasta water. Puree and taste. The green onion flavor should be assertive. Stir in the Parmesan.

Combine the macaroni with the green onion sauce in a large bowl. Toss well. Add the arugula and most of the apple and toss again. Taste, and add more pepper, salt, or lemon juice if needed. Serve topped with the remaining apple and green onion. Makes enough for a crowd or potluck.

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Fresh Corn, Zucchini, and Cream Pasta

I threw all of these ingredients together one night and discovered a quick and delicious summertime dish. Other add-ins would be great with this, too - like spinach, asparagus, or cherry tomatoes. 
2 cups cooked pasta (fettuccine or penne would be great; or cheese ravioli for added decadence)

1 T. olive oil

1 cup fresh summer corn

1 cup diced zucchini or summer squash

1/4 cup real bacon bits (or just real bacon, cooked and crumbled)

1 T. fresh basil, chopped

1/3 cup sliced green onion

Salt and pepper

1/2 cup half and half

shredded Parmesan for sprinkling

Place a large saute pan over medium high heat and add oil. Toss in corn, zucchini, and bacon bits and saute for several minutes until vegetables are lightly browned. Add basil, onion, and salt/pepper. Reduce heat to medium and cook for a few more minutes. Finish off with half and half, allowing the liquid to bubble and coat the vegetable mixture. Toss in pasta and split into bowls. Sprinkle generously with Parmesan cheese. Serves 2.

Identity crisis averted, [no] thanks to a sans-pants bear

Anyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that I dislike Winnie the Pooh. I never really got into the cartoon as a kid; something about Pooh's slow voice and obsession with honey was really annoying. Not to mention the weirdness of his name altogether. And really, let's think about this: Pooh doesn't wear pants...and he plays with little boys. It's all very wrong. 

So this evening, my sister and I were discussing personality traits and their relation to the Pooh characters. Summer is very intelligent and aware of the trends in pop culture, and I will admit I was intrigued. Which Pooh character was I? The only characters we could remember were Eeyore (depressed), Piglet (follower), Tigger (hyperactive), and, of course, Pooh (obsessed/perverted). Surely there must be other character traits to choose from in life! 

I went online and googled "Which Winnie the Pooh Character Are You?" and found a plethora to choose from. This one seemed reputable, if only for its name: "The Deep and Meaningful Winnie the Pooh Character Test" (http://www.okcupid.com/tests/7755608336260521742/Deep-and-Meaningful- Winnie-The-Pooh-Character). After answering about 30 interesting and semi-thought-provoking questions, I clicked the "finish" button and waited apprehensively. Who would I be? Strange little Piglet? Surely not Tigger - he's too wild. Please, please, please...not Pooh. I can't be Pooh! 

My result: Rabbit. Well, hey there! Here's a character I didn't even know about...and what do you know, the description seems fairly accurate:

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ABOUT RABBIT: Rabbit is generally considered clever by his many friends and relations. He is actually a much better reader and writer than Owl, but he doesn't consider it worth mentioning. Instead, Rabbit's real talent lies in organizing plans. He organizes rescue parties, makes schemes to reduce Tigger's bounciness, and goes on missions to find out what Christopher Robin does when he's not at the Hundred Acre Woods. Sometimes, however, his plans do not always go as planned.

WHAT THIS SAYS ABOUT YOU: You are smart, practical and you plan ahead. People sometimes think that you don't stress or worry, but this is not the case. You are the kind of person who worries in a practical way. You think a) What are my anxieties about and b)what can be done about them? No useless fretting for you. You don't see the point in sitting around and waiting for things to work out, when you could actually work them out today and save yourself a lot of time and worry. Your friends tend to rely on you, because they know that they can trust you help them work things out. You sometimes tend to be impatient with people who are less practical in their ways. You don't have much patience for idiots who moan about things but never actually DO anything about them. You have high expectations of everyone, including yourself. When you don't succeed at something, or when something goes wrong despite your best efforts to prevent it, you can get quite hard on yourself. You need to cut yourself some slack and accept that everyone has their faults, even you. Let yourself be faulty, every now and then, for the sake of your own sanity.

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So there you have it...I'm a Rabbit. I suppose I'll sleep better tonight with this knowledge :) But in all seriousness, I did read an article recently on how the longevity of these Winnie the Pooh characters can be attributed to the fact that they are realistic and representative of most personalities in life. Think about it - I'm sure you know a Tigger, an Eeyore, or an Owl. And I'm sure some of us can even think of a few Poohs in our lives. So, who are you?

p.s. This post is a result of too much free time, neither of which is a bad thing.

p.p.s. If you happen to take this quiz and score a Pooh, I won't hate you (or question your motives around children). Promise.

Meatball Trick

For most of my childhood, my parents made spaghetti & meatballs once a week during football season. That's right - every single week. Nope, we're not Italian...just football people. You see, it was my dad's tradition as a coach to invite the top four players of the week to our house for dinner, and spaghetti was the natural choice. Mom would make the sauce, and Dad would make the meatballs. He taught me how to make them without a recipe - add the egg and breadcrumbs, then the milk; add the spices - and you'd know you'd added enough oregano if the meat smelled right. Next, he'd fry the meatballs in a covered frying pan, which he usually placed on our deck outside to keep the house from smelling like smoke and grease. The finished product was delectable - fragrant, chubby balls of meat with a crispy, crunchy exterior. Add 'em to a bowl of Mom's amazing sauce and voila! A most memorable meal.

It's been a long time since I've had Mom and Dad's famous spaghetti, and I'll admit that I miss it enough to make a big batch once a year. The sauce is no problem - just let it simmer on a stovetop all day. But the meatballs have long been problematic in my kitchen because I don't have one of those covered frying pans. Reluctant to panfry on the stove (eww, too messy), past attempts to bake them have left me with so-so meatballs only because they're missing that crunchy crust. 

Last week, I discovered a solution. Bake the meatballs in a metal pan, and then leave them undisturbed for about 10-15 minutes so a crust can form on one side. Next, turn them and repeat the process. When two sides are darkened, wiggle the pan so that the meatballs spin in all directions. Then leave them in the oven awhile longer so that crust may continue to cook and brown. The end result is something quite similar to Dad's - though only a close second :) Oh, and only the inside of my oven gets spattered in oil (and that's a part of the kitchen no one sees)!  I'm sure many cooks of the world have known about this trick for years, but if you haven't...try immediately, and enjoy! 

Seriously, people...if you're not eating these yet, you need to be!

Last summer at the Longmont Farmers Market, I stumbled across this random little stand selling pupusas, a traditional food rooted in El Salvador. Curious, I purchased a single pupusa and proceeded to consume the thing within minutes.

Holy delicious! It resembled a thick, stuffed pita, but the dough is made from corn masa, so it tasted more like a tamale. In the center was a tasty chicken and cheese combo. The stand had lots of flavors - bean + cheese, green chile + cheese, sweet corn + black bean, mushroom + leek, etc., and pupusas could also be purchased frozen, in packs of four.

I bought a couple packs, took them home, and made a few important discoveries:

1) Pupusas are sold completely cooked, so they really just need reheating. At the food stand, pupusas were pan-fried, but at home I cook them on a dry griddle (like a grilled cheese).

2) The chicken + cheese flavor is by far my favorite, but green chile + cheese and bean + cheese come in as close seconds. During the winter months, pupusas can be purchased at Whole Foods but the meat varieties aren't available, so it's good to have "second favorites"!

3) Pupusas are so versatile! I actually prefer them for breakfast, either plain or with an egg on top. Last summer, I even tried a fancy egg stack - pupusa on the bottom, fresh chopped greens and veggies in the middle, fried egg, and a cumin-sour cream drizzle on top. A- freaking-mazing.

4) At one low point last winter (when my pupusa stash had run out), I became desperate enough to try to making my own. Big mistake - a messy, frustrating experience that resulted in a really lame homemade version. Note to self: buy enough pupusa four packs in the fall to last ALL winter long!

5) Pupusas are relatively healthy, especially if you avoid frying them at home and stick with a griddling method. Tres Pupusas makes theirs gluten free, and with all-natural ingredients.

For those of you living in the Denver area, keep an eye out at your local farmers market for these little suckers. Tres Pupusas also sells their goods at Whole Foods, and I recently spied them at the Arvada Vitamin Cottage, too. http://trespupusas.com/

2010-2011

Another school year, over and done. Time to wave goodbye to another class of 8th graders; time to reflect on the successes and disasters and try to learn from them. If I'm going to be honest, this was a rough year. It was a year where even a great group of students couldn't keep the bubble from bursting; it was a year that, in some ways, I'd soon like to forget...and in other ways, I'm glad I never will. It was the year of JW, and despite the ending, he was the highlight of 2010-2011. It seems strange to consider his battle and our walk on that road with him as a "highlight," but if you were a part of it, you know what I mean.

There are early, dark memories: the pain and disbelief in the first few weeks of his diagnosis, tears rolling down parents' cheeks at Back to School Night, the shock on our students' faces, his final Friday of teaching and one last FAC. Back then, we were fueled with the need to help our friend. We raised funds, we walked and ran to cure cancer, we bombarded JW and his family with emails and dinners, we tried to be strong for our students. We thrived on the hope that he - WE - would beat this thing. I know this energy helped him through what I'm sure he knew (even then) was a ridiculously long shot.

There was a quiet day in November when Ryan and I were discussing the incredible amount of money the WWA community had raised for JW, and how awesome it was to see people come together in such a way. And then we agreed that it probably still wouldn't change the outcome...because we knew that all the money and support in the world wouldn't save our friend. How is it possible to have known this? I think it was partly my own fatalistic mentality, and partly the fear of hoping beyond reality and logic.

But the hope crept in. It kept all of us afloat, and buoyed our spirits when John was approved and found a match for a transplant. Hope was ever present as we made plans - to hang out with him, to get him back in the classroom, to count on him to be around for a long time now. It was this hope that blocked the inevitable; it's what allowed us all to be blindsided by cruel fate.

I never saw it coming. That sounds ridiculous now - I mean, I'd convinced myself that this was a possibility was back in the beginning - how could I not have expected it? How did I not notice that his hospital stay was abnormally long and that this was problematic? How did I not realize that the sporadic updates meant he wasn't doing well? And on the day that I sent the poems our students had written, how did I not recognize my internal urgency to get those poems to him as a very clear sign that he didn't have much time left to read them?

My regrets aren't about his final hours; I didn't get to say goodbye personally and hold his hand, but I don't regret that. Kasey delivered my message and made him smile, and it warms my heart to know this. But I do regret not writing him more often, and not visiting him on the other 17 straight days he was in the hospital. I regret that we never had that Monty Python night. Mostly, I regret not telling him how much he inspired me and how much I learned from him. I regret that he never knew how much I appreciated his friendship and that I thought he was an incredible person.

We are left now to fill a raw, gaping hole in our school, and in our hearts. Yes, life goes on, but the puzzle is missing a key piece. We talked today about who will fill that hole, and how s/he won't ever quite fit because it won't be JW. I know I have to give this person a chance, but it feels like I just woke up without my thumbs or something. How is life ever going to feel normal again when I don't have my thumbs?!?!?!

JW was the glue that filled the cracks in our middle school team. He led by example; his calm strength served to balance our team dynamic. It's funny because I think we all learned from him and relied on him in ways that we didn't even recognize until he was gone. I miss his laugh and his classroom light illuminating a dark hallway at 6:00 a.m. I miss the advice he would give in a way where it just felt like a great philosophy. I miss his enthusiasm for teaching and how it radiated off of his face each day. I miss his surprise visits, and his monthly emails - always a message to the kids and one small one for me. I read through them all again last week, and found one where he had written, "You are amazing and I am happy to call you my friend."

JW, the feeling is mutual. I miss you, buddy - now and always.

What's (W)right in the world

Generosity. The act of it often generates such an amazing cycle of warmth, love, hope. And the funny thing is that those who give to others do so for any other reason than self-satisfaction, which I find so beautiful - that an act of kindness would render an emotion that is neither expected nor sought by the giver. I'm a believer in karma, so treating others in accordance with how I'd like to be treated is pretty standard in my day-to-day movements. But stepping outside of karma's circle for the sole purpose of helping someone else is a certain magic of its own. Few things in this world feel so good as helping someone else with no expectation of return.

I spent the evening at a benefit for my friend John, who is battling leukemia. The event was a dinner-dancing-silent auction combo, engineered by John's friends and neighbors. Going into it, I figured that while the silent auction piece might be out of my league, at least I could be there to support John and his family. And so was the case, for the first part of the night; there were hundreds of auction items, but none that I wanted to spring for. Then I saw it: an oil painting of a Colorado mountain scene. Always a sucker for 70s-ish mountain art, I wanted this painting. Its value was $600, so I didn't even try for it, figuring it wouldn't stay in my price range for more than a few minutes.

About an hour later, I swung by the painting and noticed that the bidding wasn't past $50. With about 30 minutes until auction close, I considered putting my name in. I got to thinking...how often in a month do I spend money on worthless, unnecessary things? (I'll spare you the details to that answer.) Was the painting worth more than a new outfit or a dinner out with friends? The amount I would pay would go directly to my friend John, which in many ways made it seem that there was no monetary limit.

Can a price be placed on John's laugh? Or on his kids' beaming faces? Or on a warm hug from his wife Stacy? I was lucky enough to be a part of all of those things tonight. I was lucky enough to spend several precious moments talking with my friend John, and those are moments so rare these days that they cannot be given monetary value.

Man, I miss my friend John. I miss his dry humor and his grounded perspectives. I miss seeing his room light when I walk down the dark middle school hallway in the early morning; I miss his reluctant participation in our teacher shenanigans (i.e. Snape on Halloween); I miss him through my students' eyes and sighs.

We can’t predict our futures. I don’t know if John is going to live or die from this disease; I don’t know if I’ll ever see him teaching in his science room ever again. What I do know is that I can help him – now – and that, as before, cannot be labeled with a price point.

I placed a bid on that painting, and found myself arm-wrestling another bidder – a parent of one of my students, go figure – for the prize. In the end, sentimentality trumped all and that parent graciously stepped down so that I could “win.” But the amazing thing is that as excited as I was to take that painting home, it felt even better to have the opportunity to help John and his family.

Before leaving, I took a look around the hotel ballroom, filled with hundreds of people who were all there to seize similar opportunities. It’s an incredible thing to witness so many hearts in the same place, united for one very special cause. Because of this, that painting isn’t just a pretty picture anymore – it’s a token of the human kindness that I saw tonight. And it’s a reminder of the hope and strength that I see in John.

I’m going to hang that painting in my classroom on Monday, and tell my students about the generosity, love, and sense of community that exists in the world. I hope that painting will inspire them to give and care for others…and I hope it will remind them of John, too.