September 27, 2012 by Cate

An Itchy Pity Party

What is the point of poison ivy? Can someone answer that for me, please? Having gone nearly four decades without any run-ins with the nasty three-leafed offender, I hardly ever gave it any thought. This highlights my folly, because it allowed me to smugly ignore the warning “leaves of three, let them be”. I not only didn’t let them be, I brashly and aggressively tried banishing them from my property during a Labor Day weekend brush-clearing episode. Well, truth be told, I didn’t actually realize I was removing poison ivy. Nor did I realize that poison ivy could grow like a vine – as in Jack and the beanstalk-sized vines that were wrapping themselves around shrubs and climbing walls. So there I was pulling “weeds” like a woman possessed as I tried to compensate for having completely ignored this particular overgrown patch of yard all summer long. Needless to say, in this case ignorance was not bliss. Not my proudest yard care moment. Not. At. All.

And now, almost four weeks and a prescription of prednisone later, I am still itchy and my legs still look like I challenged a tiger to fight club, and lost. Admittedly the itch has subsided considerably and my legs now sport red splotches in place of “fluid filled vesicles” (thanks to my sister for that incredibly accurate but disturbing description), so there has been measurable improvement. I’m impatient, though, and ready to move beyond this whole poison ivy incident. I don’t want diminished symptoms; I want to be symptom-free. I’d like to wear a pair of shorts again while there is still some temperate weather without eliciting stares and concerns that perhaps leprosy is on the rebound. Do you notice this post is photo-free – I’m sparing you. Trust me, you’re grateful.

But seriously, back to my original question — why is there poison ivy? What is its function? If its ooze-inducing poison had some higher purpose, like protecting a rare, fragile yard nymph from extinction, or if it was an incredibly beautiful plant to look at, I might be more willing to accept its existence. But it seems to me that it has no real purpose at all, other than to put humans through an itchy misery should they come in contact with it. It’s like the mean girl of the garden – rude and spiteful just because it can be, because it enjoys watching others suffer. A total beoch.
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I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about poison ivy these past few weeks: home remedies (fyi, as counter-intuitive as it may sound, the hot water treatment seemed to provide the most relief), whether or not you can spread it (only the urushiol is poisonous, you can’t “spread” poison ivy through your disgusting, weeping vesicles; although folks will probably feel pretty ill just looking at them), the tenacity of poison ivy and its death-defying abilities (yes, it comes in plant and vine form, and apparently can remain poisonous for up to five years after the plant has been killed, and no matter what, do not try burning it to kill it!). If you’re feeling particularly adventuresome, the Internet can also serve up a bevy of pictures of extreme poison ivy rash, although I wasn’t very interested in those since I’m too busy having a pity party for my own case to start comparing ooze with other victims of the toxicodendron radicans plant. I’ve also learned two other important lessons: (i) itchiness, just like sleepiness and hunger, can make a girl quite cranky – yikes, sorry family!, and (ii) there is no such thing as not scratching poison ivy, no way, no how. People who are able to refrain from scratching poison ivy are probably the same people who don’t pop zits and have never once polished off a pint of ice cream by themselves, and I don’t want to even know about those self-control-aholic people.

At this point, I’d like to call a truce with poison ivy. I figure we can co-exist in this world without the need for animosity or vengeance. I’ll occupy my space, it can occupy its own (preferably on an isolated plot of land surrounded by barbed wire with a large sign alerting others to the danger), but we’ll agree not to do harm to each other. The truce can commence now that we’ve applied “Brush Be Gone” to every three-leafed organism in our yard. And if this truce thing doesn’t work out? Well, then I’ll just leave all the weeding to my husband.

August 28, 2012 by Cate

Coming and Going

Change is a happenin’ around here. In the span of two weeks, we have welcomed new neighbors, and said “farewell” to my stepson and his girlfriend as they set off across the country to put down new roots on the West Coast. These two events were unrelated and their timing was coincidental but I couldn’t help but think of the saying “whenever one door closes, another door opens.”

It’s hard sometimes to know which is more difficult to do — say hello, or say goodbye. Both are quite capable of brewing up some level of anxiety. The hellos can easily trigger a bit of self-doubt. “Hi new neighbors, can we be friends?” Chewing your lip, you’re thinking, are we cool/fun/smart/friendly/all-of-the-above enough to be friends? And then there’s the realization they will be front and center for all of your bad habits and the inevitable meltdowns. Enjoy the free show — it’s bound to be entertaining!

But, in our case, we’ve lucked out and the anxiety level with this welcome was quite low. Our new neighbors are actually a family that we’ve known for a few years and really like. And, jackpot, they have children just about the same age as ours. When the house was on the market and various prospective buyers stopped in for showings, my husband and I would sometimes entertain ourselves by envisioning our potential neighbors. It was like window-shopping in reverse — us in the window, looking out, making predictions about the people touring the house, the likelihood they’d end up purchasing it, and what kind of neighbors they’d make. It’s ironic, and comforting, that in the end, our new neighbors end up being not so new after all.

We welcomed our neighbors (ahem, a couple weeks late) with a welcome garland. Have I mentioned how much I love making garlands? So easy but fun and a great way to get creative.

They make an easy party decoration.

Or colorful kid’s room decor, too. Felt, thread, scissors, machine, and you’re good to go. Cut the desired shapes and feed them through the machine in a line.

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Goodbyes are tricky – even when they are good goodbyes. You want to be truly excited for the person you are sending off, but you’re also battling with your selfish desire to keep that person close. Before their move, my stepson and his girlfriend were living in Boston. Not exactly next door to us here on the border of New Haven, Connecticut, but certainly close enough that a road trip of a couple hours could resolve any longings for home. Of course, admittedly, we didn’t take enough advantage of their proximity. We talked a lot about making day trips to Beantown, but since a day trip anywhere with young children requires almost the same amount of planning and travel gear as a month’s vacation, we were much heavier on the talk than the action part of the equation. But still, California pretty much erases the possibility of a spur-of-the-moment trip for dinner together. Thankfully technology will help bridge the gap.

It is exciting that they are moving to California. I have never traveled farther west than Chicago, so I can live vicariously through their travels westward. And, now I have a really good reason to visit California! I also admire their boldness in leaving behind family, friends and jobs here and starting completely fresh in a new place where they have no connections. It’s almost like the geographical version of “why climb that mountain?” Why move to San Diego? Because it’s there. I guess that in the twenty-something crowd that can be called a spirit of adventure. I’m betting that a similar move by parents with young children and corresponding responsibilities might be called something more akin to a dereliction of duty, or at the very least frowned upon greatly by the grandparents. Still, it never hurts to daydream.

They are headed West on a meandering route that includes some visits with friends and family and a little national park called the Grand Canyon. So I returned to my humble bag-making beginnings, and sent them off with a tote bag of road trip essentials. Well, actually, I forgot to include a couple rolls of toilet paper; hopefully I didn’t jinx them with that omission. But I did include maps! And then my husband asked, “do people even use real, paper maps anymore? Don’t they use their phones for that kind of stuff?” He’s probably right. But in my day-dreamy, romanticized version of a cross-country road trip, maps seemed so appropriate and relevant. Maybe they’ll be good for something else? Killing a bug or two, makeshift umbrella, stand-in for the omitted toilet paper, you never know?

Yes, I'm reversible

Let's hit the road!

So, go west, young man (and woman). Have a wonderful experience and never stop looking for the next adventure! Just don’t forget to write and call and send lots of pictures.

August 6, 2012 by Cate

Suh-weet! Recipe: Smoky Sweet Potato Patties

It’s sometimes hard for me to believe I never ate sweet potatoes until about 3 years ago. How did I avoid them for so long when they are soooo good? I still remember my first bite of sweet potato; my instant reaction was “wow, it’s sweet.” Duh! I guess somehow, despite the telltale name, I really didn’t believe they’d be sweet. Maybe their color made me think they’d taste like turnips – a vegetable I’ve yet to embrace.

On that first tasting, the sweet potato was sliced, dressed in olive oil, salt and pepper and direct grilled. Simple yet so delicious. That version was compliments of one of my stepsons, who is quite talented in the kitchen. He’s the guy who can look in the refrigerator and see about five different things he could make for lunch; while I’d look in and say “there’s nothing to eat, we need to go grocery shopping.” I love how some folks just have a natural vision about what can be accomplished with food.

I guess sweet potatoes have been one of those in vogue vegetables for the last few years. Kind of like kale and, more recently, parsnips. And heck, why not, they’re delicious and good for you. I feel like an old-timer telling my children, “when I was your age, you couldn’t find sweet potato fries in the frozen food aisle. Nope, had to peel, slice and fry ‘em yourself if you wanted orange fries. Yessiree.”

If you follow any food boards on Pinterest, you’ve probably seen this recipe from Happy Healthy Life pinned, and repinned, and liked, and liked a whole lot more. It actually inspired these patties. I had been trying out a few veggie pancake recipes, but they always seemed too heavy on the wheat flour and lacking in veggie taste. But, aahhhh, the sweet potato’s gorgeous color, sweetness, nutrients and lovely, creamy texture make it a no-brainer for patties.

It’s great how sweet potatoes are so flexible and easily combined with different flavors. My favorite combination is to pair them with smoky flavors, like cumin and smoked paprika, as featured here. And I never pass down an opportunity to add cilantro to a dish. You could even amp up the Tex-Mex flair by adding some black beans and corn. But I suppose these patties could be just as easily paired with cinnamon and apple if you wanted to try the opposite end of the sweet potato pairing spectrum. There really is so much you can do with the recipe, and it’s simple as (er, sweet potato) pie.

As you might suspect of something made from a root vegetable, these patties are pretty filling. Again, there’s a great deal of flexibility on how to enjoy these patties. Like traditional burgers on a roll or bread, either full-sized or as pop in your mouth sliders. Oh, but why cover up the beautiful color of the sweet potato when you can go bun-less! These patties are good enough to stand on their own, but I like to use the patty as a base (no bun) and then start stacking on more good stuff. My favorite is topped with sharp cheddar cheese, a slice of tomato and sprouts, with a green salad on the side.

So have fun, play around with the recipe, play around with how to eat them. Fill your belly with some sweetness.

Recipe: Smoky Sweet Potato Patties

Adapted from Happy Healthy Life

Makes about 9 small patties or 6 large

1 sweet potato

1 can white beans, drained and rinsed (I use what’s on hand, and have made the patties using a 15.5 oz can of navy beans, or 19 oz. can of cannellini beans; the more beans, the creamier the mix becomes, so you may need to up the breadcrumbs or flaxseed to compensate when forming patties)

2 Tablespoons ground flaxseed or breadcrumbs (using crumbs from toasted sprouted bread is a great addition)

1 handful fresh cilantro, chopped

1 Tablespoon tahini

1 teaspoon agave nectar

2 teaspoons smoked paprika

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1 clove garlic, minced

generous dash of salt

several grinds of fresh black pepper

Panko, for coating

Safflower oil for pan

Bake potato (425 degrees for about 45 minutes). When soft, cut open and scoop out flesh into a small bowl and set aside. Fill bowl of food processor with white beans, tahini, agave, flaxseed/breadcrumbs, herbs and spices.

Process to combine, but still chunky. A couple pulses of the food processor should do the trick.

After the first spin

Hey Sweetie, let's go for a spin

The mixture should not be chunky, but a thick smooth texture – avoid overprocessing. Note: An alternative approach (if you’re not as lazy as I can be) is to combine the bean mixture and the sweet potatoes by mashing by hand. This method makes it easier to avoid an overprocessed (ie., too smooth) mixture. I have found that when I use the food processor, I usually have to add a bit more flax and/or breadcrumbs to the mixture to firm it up a bit.

Mixed

Form patties and coat with panko. They will be pretty soft but should adhere. If they won’t form, add a bit more breadcrumbs or flaxseed to thicken. Heat nonstick pan with safflower oil over medium high heat. Cook until both sides of patties are lightly browned. The patties will remain relatively soft with cooking, so try to minimize flipping to reduce risk of breaking the patty apart. Depending on size, a few minutes per side seems to work well.

Naked patty, how risque!

Enjoy with or without bun, with or without toppings. Go crazy.

Guess what we’re having for dinner?

July 25, 2012 by Cate

Hey Baby

What is it that makes babies so appealing? And not just your own baby being appealing to you; I mean that strangers going gaga in public over someone else’s baby reaction that babies so easily elicit. Is it the cherubic faces, little fingers that grab onto yours without hesitation or judgment, coos that sound extraterrestrial, chubby cheeks and limbs made for kissing? Or is it more than the physical? Perhaps they force the recognition, consciously or not, of the importance of life, and family, and carrying on, and symbolize hope and potential. I’m not sure. In fact, at the risk of turning this into a confessional, I’ll admit I didn’t understand the whole baby “thing” until about 4 years ago.

Some people seem born to procreate; it’s as if they have an innate understanding of how personally transforming parenthood and children can be. As my family is often quick to remind me, I definitely was not born into that category. Picture the person that rolls her eyes every time she hears a baby cry and is quick to apportion blame on the parents (it’s possible, pre-motherhood, that on more than one occasion I muttered “what’s wrong with those parents?” upon being subjected to a noisy baby in a restaurant, airplane, mall, anywhere). Yep, for a very long time, that was me. And then it all changed, and after years of feeling quite sure that I did not envision myself as a mother, I decided I wanted to have a child. And then another. And I feel lucky and grateful to have them. No regrets.

And I even get excited about other people’s babies now, too. No, I’m not the crazy lady who is pinching stranger babies’ cheeks in line at the deli, but I do get a thrill from babies. I think maybe it’s that they serve as a reminder of how much I love my own children and how much joy they bring me (that is, when the toddler is not testing me with new, highly creative, insanity-inducing shenanigans).

It’s wonderful to see that thrill and baby-joy in others, too. This weekend I met my cousin’s four-month-old son for the first time, as he made a whirlwind tour from North Carolina up to New England for introductions to family and friends that had so far known him only in pictures. But what Facebook and emails can’t convey is the powerful conversion from cousin to mother, from aunt to grandmother. It was fantastic to gather with family and meet the newest addition, and so amazing to see how easily and completely my cousin, her husband and my aunt wore their new roles. Hey little guy, you are changing lives already!

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Cotton print pants (fabric: Laurie Wisbrun for Robert Kaufman Fabrics, Urban Circus Elephants). Pattern pieces drawn by tracing a pair of my daughter’s pants.

Freezer paper stenciled onesie.