A Cooking Fool

I try to go all out during the holidays and other special occasions. Sometimes the baby will come home from college and ask for a favorite meal -- usually chicken pot pie. The daughter has a favorite meal (pork tenderloin and fettuccine Alfredo) and the husband has perfected it.

Other times, I'm a simple eater. Since we lost the oldies, the husband and I are quite content with a piece of meat or fish and some veges. We often have hor
d'oerves and skip dinner.

But, my goldies are coming. We want to nosh. Jan had a couple of requests. I made them. Deb swears she'll never get out of her stretchy pants. I made some other appetizers too and now I've become a cooking fool. I have ingredients for two more and I will make them today. It's pure joy to cook for people who request things and relish them.

Chicken Tortilla Soup is the easiest (and one of the tastiest) soups. If you give me a recipe, I usually amend it. I make it easier. So, I will share this easy recipe, courtesy of Big Sal, with hopes that you will enjoy it.

Chicken Tortilla Soup

Your choice: Buy a rotisserie chicken and pluck the meat off. Or, use two packages of southwestern chicken strips. Cut into chunks.
2 cans or most of one box of chicken stock.
1 cup water.
Salsa Verdi (green) -- I use most or all of one jar.
1 tbsp Cumin
2 cans of Cannelloni beans (white kidney beans,) drained and rinsed.
1 can of corn, drained.

Put everything in a pot or dutch oven and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for a bit. Put in the frig and reheat the next day.

Serve with the following sides: minced green onions, sour cream, crumbled tortilla chips, shredded cheese.

Kids love this soup. I think they like making their own combination.

So, you dump everything in a pot and then YUM! I must go cook now.

Silver Linings -- A New Friendship

We buried the Belle and Hangdog within 60 days of each other. I still can't believe it.

As depressing as it is, there are times when I can take comfort in blessings. The oldies are no longer in pain or in peril. I believe they are together again.

Another personal blessing has been an unexpected friendship with my cousin-in-law. She's beautiful, talented and accomplished. She has the biggest heart of anyone I've met in years. She is extremely interesting and gracious enough to express interest in everyone else. She asked me repeatedly, "Are you ok?" I was afraid I was growing horns or something else so I ran to the restroom. No horns, just more wrinkles and frown lines.

This friendship is relatively new so I don't know all of her stories. I know she's experienced quite a bit of loss and she handles it with class. It's like I'm in kindergarten during story hour -- I am enthralled.

She also has a delightful and slightly devilish sense of humor. At Hangdog's funeral, she stood in front of the husband and me. Sharing memories of the oldies, she said, "They loved to come to my house because I would let her fry or cook whatever she wanted as long as she made me tomato gravy."

I definitely do not want the recipe for tomato gravy.

When I left Mississippi, she gave me a book, "Girlfriends are Forevah." I've always known that but I didn't expect to find a new girlfriend through this ordeal.

An added bonus is every time she says my name she sounds like the Belle.

Don't Mess with the Belle

Our favorite doctor always refers to Hangdog as "Captain" and the mother-in-law as "The Southern Belle." He's earned the Captain title and she is certainly a southern belle.

Some blogs give interesting and delicious recipes. If you're looking for that, you're reading the wrong blog. But, I am going to give you a recipe:

Take one southern belle and make some decisions for her.
Toss in food that isn't coated in nine pounds of butter.
Move her from a hospital to a rehab facility, preferably in an ambulance.
Throw in some painkillers and various narcotics.

Let stew until the anger begins to boil over. Get out of the way.

There you go. You now have my personal recipe for an oldies explosion/meltdown. I'm happy to share it but I don't recommend it.

A Different Kind of Ant

Just like the song, High Hopes, talked about ants, I want to do it too. Only in this case, it's my aunts. My father had two sisters who adored him. One has passed away but the other is very influential in my life. I'll get to her in a minute.

My mother is the oldest of three girls. Her sisters have seen me through thick and thin. They probably get very sick of me calling or emailing them. (One is high tech; one is no tech.)

I was taught that you're not supposed to express envy or covet things but if you'll give me a little wiggle room, I'll try not to be blasphemous.

I can be jealous of my aunts. They are these incredibly talented, funny, interesting people. Then, I realize I'm grateful -- in a weird and honorable way, I get to say, "Mine!" It's possessive. I'm possessive. These are my aunts.

One of my aunts lived with us periodically during my childhood. She taught me this lesson: When someone else pulls your hair, grab theirs and yank hard. By the way, she's the most talented artist I've had the pleasure to know. She has more talent in the tip of her pinkie than I have in my entire body.

One of my aunts used to take my infant self on dates with her (now) husband. She is far and away the funniest woman I know. I refer to her as a combination of Lucille Ball and Wild Bill. Who taught me to roll my eyes? Plus, she cooks all the time. She shares cookbooks and recipes. Do you think she's trying to tell me to kick it up a notch?

One of my aunts is a writer, speaker, community activist and has dedicated her life to family and social reform. Her influence is unending and she planted the seed for my writing passion. She's also been in the position of dealing with illness and in-home care. I can turn to her for advice or a pick-me-up talk when I'm freaking about the oldies. Plus, she's the strongest woman in the world.

My other aunt is deceased. I did not know her well. That makes me sad.

I have two great aunts on my mother's side. One showers me with soaps, lotions, candles and potions. She has dealt with her own health issues and frankly, I am stunned that she makes such an effort. (Maybe she remembers that I was the good eater.)

My other great Aunt has the most contagious laugh you've ever heard. If I'm lucky, I see her a few times a year. I always leave her presence with my heart full and my stomach hurting from too many belly laughs.

Aunts get the short end of the stick. They're not your parents and usually, their children are your generational equals so you tend to spend more time with the cousins. If you're lucky, you know and love your cousins. But it's the aunts who remember your birthday or helped pick out your baptism outfit or babysat so your parents could get a moment to themselves.

The husband had a million aunts. His mother came from a family of a jillion. (I stop counting after five.) He loved them and is in contact with some of his cousins but it's not like the relationships I have with my aunts.

As adults, we forget. So, I raise my coffee mug in a toast to aunts.

I have three aunts and two great-aunts. I am honored to also call them my friends.