beans and cheese anytime of the day

So, let's talk soul food. In great hopes that everyone has some 'soul' to go home too, it's the best thing since sliced bread, I mean warm torts. I love love love the fact that when I go home to 'Pops' house, I get my dose everytime. My dad always shoving a bowl of green chile in my face with a bag of broken up corn chips, asking me my opinion on his new recipe. The funny thing is, it always tastes the same to me. The chiles are so hot that most of the time I can't tell the difference. And salsa, it's like a foodgroup. Without a doubt, always tubbed up in the fridge, paired delisciously with any meal. Seriously.
And, as it happens to be, I was in luck when I married my husband, a tall dark and handsome Phillipino, with a last name that granted me permission to still belong among my peeps. And the food that came with the package...off the hook. Not to mention when 'mom' is cooking, that woman is the real deal. No messing around, and all secrets about her recipes. When I once thought beans and cheese, torts and chips, were the essential in every kitchen, I now add to my list rice and meat, garlic and soy.

weekly horoscope

This week will bring much rice and meat. It's time to get out the air matress and slumber party like it's 1999.

I love...

a good man who knows how to work on cars. it's hot.

promise to repeat

I got some organic local rhubarb from my sis in-law, and couldn't wait to bake it up. Just got done licking the bowl of warm, sticky remnants from strawberry rhubarb crisp and can't stop thinking about it. The flavor or rhubarb is intensely unique, but if prepared with the right touches, it can set off a seemingly normal dessert and make it divine. If just one person makes this recipe of mine, and enjoys strawberry and rhubarb like yin and yang, sticky and sweet, fully satisfied with every bite, then I'll know you know what I know! Get you some! and don't forget the ice cream, a la mode!
Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

STRAWBERRY AND RHUBARB FILLING
a handful of rhubarb stalks, diced into 1/2" pieces
an even bigger handful of fresh chopped strawberries
2 c. powdered sugar
2 tablespoons butter

in a saute pan, combine rhubarb, powdered sugar, and butter. On med. low heat get the rhubarb going, stiring in powdered sugar until dissolved and butter until melted. Let it get cooking until rhubarb is slightly tender and sweetened from cooking in sugar. If your rhubarb is super tart, add MORE SUGAR! don't be afraid. Rhubarb is extremely tart and unlikely tasty unless it's sweetned correctly. You'll know it's done when you can enjoy it with mild tartness with balanced sweetness, and the texture will be like a cooked carrot in soup. Add freshly diced strawberries, and there you have your crisp filling, ready to go.

CRISP TOPPING
1 stick of cold butter diced into small cubes
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. flour
dash salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

combine flour, brown sugar, and butter into large bowl. Using the 'cut in' method, combine. When you 'cut in' something into a batter, you are making the batter flaky and crumbly, in this case so you can sprinkle on the crisp topping. Using a fork and knife, cut up butter in the bowl with flour and brown sugar until there is only small chunks of butter left in batter, and it resembles a strusel or coffee cake topping. Add salt and vanilla and stir to combine.

put strawberry rhubarb filling into a pie pan or baking dish, sprinkle the top with crisp topping, and toss into a 400 degree oven. Bake for about 15 minutes, until crisp topping is golden brown and fruit is bubbling hot. Eat immediately. Pair with vanilla ice cream, and enjoy the temperature contrast of sweet, buttery hot fruit crisp, and cold smoothe cream. awwwwwwwwhhhh daaaang...

HOROSCOPE

Expect greatness today. Your sun will shine, cakes will rise, the music will be good.

call me old fashioned

I believe in the simplicity of marriage. It is not overrated, a ball and chain, or a statistic waiting to fail. It is one of the most amazing commitments to give to yourself. It is no longer the strangeness of 'highs' and 'lows', but as I always tell people who ask "how's married life?", a smoothe, content, ride. You sit in different seats, maybe today you drive and tomorrow you shotgun, but individually it creates that divine road trip.

The thing about my dad is...

He knows EVERYONE. He's the 'mayor' in his own right. He likes to talk to everyone about anything. Godfather of 'shooting the shit'. He likes to talk to us (the fam) on the phone at least once, maybe twice a day. Our heads share some strange radar, I know exactly when he's going to call right before he does. He's the coolest dork. Really. It's not that he's dorky, he's just cool, if it's like 1970. And these days the 70's are cool, so my dad is finally making his comeback! He has taught me that family ALWAYS comes first in life, then football. I hate football. I pretend it's cool to spend 12 hours a day watching it, but "Come on DAD!" - me when I was a little girl. He always has green chile, beans, and torts when I come over for dinner. (mmmmm...what I would give for some of that). He's my dad, and he hasn't called once today, wait a minute...I think that's the phone ringing now.

quite a contradiction

I'm so not into smoking. But, my neighbor just lit up and the smell of the first drag is actually one of my all time favs. It reminds me of my Grandpa who had is own special smoking room in the garage with a metal stool and a black and white TV. When we were kids, I have memories of walking past the garage door, going in and sitting down to talk with him. The smell of him lighting up a cigarette, with his big smile and huge ears is like home to me. Now my Grandpa is gone, but I get to see him every summer. There is a hummingbird that perches himself on the same branch every year and spies on me from our deck. I have always thought from the beginning that this bird is him, coming to check up on me, with a cigarette in his mouth, blowing me the first light.

thought of Thursday...

he's the man who brings me roses, when I ain't got none

what to do today...

I want to spread the 'art' of my 'art' through the community. Kids are hands down the number one student in the kitchen and I want to create the opportunity for them to learn and for me to teach. Let's see how I can make THIS happen...

"Your business should be an extension of yourself" - a very wise man indeed.

QUESTION OF THE MORNING

"Will you wipe my butt?"

QUESTION OF THE DAY

Haven't we met before?

Capri Sun and Ritz Bitz

When teaching a 4yr. old the game of baseball...
Chalk drawn bases. 6 strikes and you're out. Okay, 10 strikes. Just hit the ball.
When you're the pitcher, don't run the bases. When you're the batter, don't run after the ball.
He knows the 'spit ball', and now he's coined his own 'buger bat'.
Just getting him ready for the little leaques, when I get to bring team snack and sit in a lawn chair with my mom butt shorts and visor. It's going to be hot and he's going to be good.

tis the season

I love summertime in the mountains. The uber chill people (first time ever, using the word 'uber'). Guys with knoty pony tails. Girls with knoty pits (not me, of course). Carhartt's and Chaco's. Patagonia and Keen's. It inspires me to cuddle up in a meadow and eat berries and squirrel meat. Be all natural. Do yoga in a tree and drink miso paste.

I HEART CONAN

i miss camping farts

It's summertime. Camping season. The smell of morning dew, ashy clothes, fired meat, and the person sleeping in your tent who just farted that smells like they ate a cigar. Seriously gross, but all natural. It must be the altitude, it must have been that bottle of tequilla, it must have been those cheetos, it must have been the corn on the cob eating contest, it must be camping season. I can't wait.

the talk

My son is curious why girls have bigger boobs than boys. Good question. But the answer is obvious to all women who are mothers, because they are milk 'jugs', of course. My son asks me if I used to put the milk from my jugs into sippee cups for him, at this point he is semi embarrassed and extremely intrigued. I try not to laugh, because this is a serious, not embarrassing, real-life, talk I am having with him, and he should not look at women and thier racks any other way than to believe that they are here for sustainable purposes only. I feel great about the relationship we are forming. My son can come to me about anything, and I will give him an honest answer he can understand that will help him become a good man someday. Then he laughs and points at my chest, calls them jellies and asks if gatorade can come out of them...