tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21217376934164273822024-02-19T07:41:04.149-06:00My French ReligionA journal, a connection to others and a tiny corner I can call my own, My French Religion is to muse, to share and to document. The title reminds me of the most important lessons I learned in France: to stay open-minded, to avoid a sedentary life and to always continue learning.Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-3597939923659895152015-12-15T20:15:00.000-06:002015-12-15T20:15:27.719-06:00Fun, Easy Toddler Ornament Craft<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last Christmas, I decided to make something from my son for all of the grandparents. At their respective Christmas parties, they unwrapped 8x10 canvases adorned with his little 13 month old feet, decorations, and "mistletoes" stamped across the bottom.<br />
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They turned out to be adorable! Of course, I didn't make one for us, because I didn't think about it at the time, but unpacking our Christmas decorations this year made me kick myself for not making one for our house! Not this year!<br />
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I think it's biologically ingrained in parents to cherish anything our children (and grandchildren) make for us. I can't quite explain why, but I remember my parents being so unbelievably excited when my sister and I would bring home little homemade gifts from school or we decorated things without being prompted, and so far, I've felt the same about my kid.<br />
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Personally, I LOVE homemade gifts from friends and family and I love making and giving them. That being said, I was struggling with an idea for a Christmas gift/craft for my 2 year old to make. Now, he JUST turned 2, which means his development is quite different from a 2 1/2 year old or almost 3 year old. I've seen huge leaps in his cognitive development in these last few weeks, and this craft was doable for him right after his birthday (and probably could have done it a few months before).<br />
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He needed something that was pre-outlined, so he could have room to be creative, but something adults would still recognize beyond toddler scribbles.<br />
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Even if you don't celebrate Christmas or holidays around this time of year, it could be modified as a "winter craft" since their brushstrokes resemble conifer branches so well! Little toddler crafting tip:cover their high chair tray with plastic wrap for easy clean-up!<br />
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Okay, on to the instructions! You'll need:<br />
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1 small canvas (ours is 3x3 in., found at Walmart)<br />
3 shades of green paint<br />
Paintbrushes<br />
Red paint<br />
Star-shaped rhinestone<br />
Glitter glue<br />
Red Rick-rack<br />
Small number stamps and ink or red pen<br />
Blue painter's tape<br />
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1. Make the outline of a tree shape with two pieces of painter's tape.<br />
2. Squirt 3 small dots of paint on a disposable surface and give your toddler the brushes (I gave him 3 brushes, but he ended up dipping them all at the same time).<br />
3. After paint has filled in the negative white space between the tape stencil, set to dry overnight.<br />
4. The next day, remove tape carefully, and add decorations/stamps as desired (make sure to label with child's name or initials on the back).<br />
5. Hot-glue or regular glue the Rick-rack to the back of the canvas to turn it into an ornament and the star (or other decoration) to the top of the "tree."<br />
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Also, my roses are blooming again! If you look closely, you can see a bee busy at work in the center!<br />
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Happy crafting!</div>
Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-75066863626885539752015-12-01T14:48:00.001-06:002015-12-01T15:00:03.844-06:00DIY Rosemary Wreath<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's December 1st, and while some of us have had a trimmed Christmas tree or other holiday decorations gilding our nests since Halloween, some others may still have rotting, painted pumpkins sitting on our doorsteps *sheepishly raises hand.*<br />
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I claim being 32 weeks pregnant with my second boy to be my excuse, but that doesn't mean I haven't had the "nesting" or "decorating" bug! I will INSIST that my muscled husband retrieve our decorations (and the baby swing) from the attic this weekend. </div>
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Feeling in the holiday spirit since even before Thanksgiving (the months of October, November, and December feel like one long holiday with my birthday, my son's birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years in a tidy row), but not having the energy or physical capacity to do much nesting beyond compulsively organizing my pantry and washing baby clothes, I have wanted to do some crafts. </div>
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I'm s-l-o-w-l-y finishing some ornaments that my son painted for grandparents' gifts (post to come) and I was struck with infernal inspiration this morning, coming off a high from successfully baking classic beef pasties with golden onion and mushroom gravy last night (<a href="http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/">MaryJanesFarm</a> magazine recipe Aug/Sept 2014 issue).<br />
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Also, after making this recipe, I officially want to wrap all meals in pastry dough forever and ever, Amen.<br />
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(Forgive the crappy photography. I snapped this last minute to text to my mom, not thinking I would use it on the blog.)</div>
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While snipping some garlic chives from my herb garden to mix in my scrambled eggs this morning, I noticed that they were being quite crowded by my pushy rosemary plant. Knowing it needed to be trimmed, I attacked it with clippers while my toddler ran up and down the sidewalk, and plucked a few ripe tomatoes from our limping tomato plant. </div>
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What to do with all this Rosemary? A wreath! Our "Give Thanks" sign, topped with homemade ribbon needed to be retired for next year's harvest season, and since not many conifers grow in my neck of the woods, rosemary is an evergreen that smells lovely and looks Christmas-y. </div>
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All I needed was: fresh rosemary sprigs (the woodier, the better), an embroidery hoop, floral wire, and a red bow (I also added some fresh cayenne peppers for a little Southern flair, but that could easily be replaced by cranberries, holly berries, or rose hips)!</div>
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With my crafting bug sated, I'm ready to finish decorating (and figure out what to do with the other 20 pounds of rosemary sprigs I cut)!</div>
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Happy crafting!</div>
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-91693572880533674452015-10-31T13:05:00.000-05:002015-10-31T13:05:16.779-05:00Oh Baby!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, remember how excited I was about my garden this spring? Remember how much time and effort and love and investment went into that raised bed and those potted plants? Well, life happened, as they say.<br />
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About a month after my last post, when I was close to updating about all of the fruits of my labor about to begin ripening, something happened. My sister-in-love and her husband were spending the day with us on a mild, rainy spring day. She was teaching me how to make farmer's cheese and I was teaching her how to make yeast bread, when I noticed some heartburn.<br />
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I don't get heartburn...unless...I'm pregnant.<br />
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Oh baby! I was in denial for a few days, as I was still nursing my firstborn and we had been actively trying to avoid another child for at least another year or two, but finally succumbed to the nagging feeling that my body was <i>off.</i><br />
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The test gave me double lines in about 0.5 seconds and I just sat in shock with my head against the bathroom door for half an hour.<br />
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I knew what was coming: the incapacitating nausea, the profuse vomiting, the battles to keep anything down, including water, exhaustion that makes me sleep for 16+ hours a day during the first 20 weeks, the dreaded spit-cup attached to my hip that helps immensely in preventing too much vomiting. How was I going to do this with a toddler? I had about a week to figure it out before I hit the wall.<br />
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After going to the doctor for a confirmation ultrasound, I numbly expressed my concerns to my mother, to which she replied, "Move in with me until the worst is over."<br />
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SALVATION!<br />
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After four months of misery, we made it out the other side and back into our own house. Needless to say, my poor garden was a disaster. A few huge cucumbers not worth eating, shriveled bell peppers, and dried-up-everything-else was the sad scene left in the wake of an unusually wet spring, unusually dry summer, and my complete neglect. The only thing that seemed untouched by heat and lack of water was the cayenne pepper (not surprising in Texas), some herbs, and the flowers I had planted for pollinators.<br />
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Since being back in our house, the irresistible call of cultivation has turned me to the "Dirt Side." Slowly, with my obstetric complications improving, I've been able to go from just walking in the grass to actually planting a few seeds, mulching, fertilizing, and enjoying the little piece of earth I call my own.<br />
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For the fall/winter, I've planted radishes and lettuces in a grow box, romaine in another grow box (though it bolted during a heat wave in October, which I'll replace with beets soon), arugala, one single scarlet runner bean, a handful of Swiss chard seeds, some sugar snap peas, and some MaryJane hard neck garlic (I REALLY want to taste those scapes everyone goes on about). I also have one pumpkin plant that survived the onslaught of some creature that was eating WHOLE plants overnight. I'm not sure if squirrels eat pumpkin plants, but they were my only suspicion, as I never found any bugs on them.<br />
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In short, I'm much less ambitious with this garden season, but I can't seem to stay away entirely. More than yields and practical use, gardening certainly gives me a sense of accomplishment, connection with nature, and encompassing sense of well-being.<br />
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These feelings, my friends, are the reasons our French sisters grow <i>something</i> in their homes. Even the smallest of apartments most often have at least a window box of herbs or flowers to answer that carnal search for cultivation.</div>
Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-22588164025892444902015-10-31T12:57:00.000-05:002015-10-31T12:57:14.643-05:00DIY Magnetic Fishing Game <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Les poissons, les poissons! How I love les poissons!"<br />
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One of my favorite Disney tunes inspired a homemade gift for my son, who will be turning two tomorrow (eek!). The string is a little long and he might not be <i>quite </i>advanced enough to play the imaginative game of "catching" the fish, but I know he'll at least enjoy how they stick together.<br />
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Their construction is simple, though I'm terrible about remembering to take photos for tutorials (even though I'm a hopelessly visual learner).<br />
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I free-handed the fish and worm on junk mail and cut out all of the felt pieces. For the fish, I: attached the button eyes and embroidered the mouths, hot glued some cheap, weak magnets between the pieces (trying to prevent any swallowing accidents!), and used a blanket stitch around the edges for a cute look.<br />
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For the pole and worm, I had my dad bring some small, industrial strength magnets (he has everything AND a kitchen sink in his spare garage, that we ladies lovingly named "his toy box" when we were children), hot glued the magnet and a strip of leather string between the pieces, used a blanket stitch around it again for visual continuity, and attached it to the pole.<br />
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The pole is just a thick dowel from the hardware store that I (unglamorously) sawed in half. My original plan was to drill a small hole in the end, thread the leather string through it, and tie it off, but, thanks to pregnant brain, I can't find ANYTHING, which means I lost the drill bit.<br />
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Instead of my original plan, I simply rolled the string in some felt with hot glue and crossed my fingers my dear son won't be too rough with it.<br />
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P.S. I apologize for the horrendous photography. We've had nothing but rain and clouds for a week. No natural light=sub-par photos.<br />
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-2217362861277401412015-03-25T23:58:00.000-05:002015-03-25T23:58:15.170-05:00Wild Onions and Upcycled Pillowcase<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We bought a house, y'all-officially-with a yard and a pre-existing clothesline. It's 1950-1970s-tastic, with wood paneling, horrible wallpaper in the bathrooms, and solid wood doors. It has an island on casters and beautiful sold-wood cabinets. Our blast-from-the-past also has a built-in rifle case in one hallway and a nautical light in the other hallway.<br />
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I'm officially in love with our house.<br />
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The other thing with which I'm in love? Our porch and yard. It's a small, standard city lot, with the original cyclone fence (we're currently building the privacy fence, thanks to an aggressive neighbor's dog). Plus, when I met our other new neighbors, they were ecstatic to know that someone bought the place who didn't own a dog (seriously guys, we're surrounded), but then you should have seen her face when I mentioned we'd have a few chickens in the coming months.<br />
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I tried really hard not to laugh.<br />
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Moving on to today's topic: wild onions and upcycled pillowcases. I'm so freakin' excited about our clothesline. Did I mention our awesome clothesline? When you've spent the last four years using an indoor drying rack and electric dryer that you know is just throwing money in the toilet, you'd be excited too.<br />
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Now that we have this wonderful contraption (hooray for old zoning laws in small towns which allow us to even have one), I can put it to good use and achieve that tantalizingly fresh smell one can only get with line-dried clothes.<br />
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However, I've run into the problem of my toddler breaking every clothespin he can get between his little hands. Seredipitously, in the<a href="http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/"> Mary Janes Farm</a> Sister issue for this month, one of the writers wrote instructions for upcycling an old pillow case into a clothespin bag to be hung from the line while working.<br />
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Well, <i>her </i>example was adorable, however, I am NOT the best seamstress when it comes to flat, round edges. They're not pretty, y'all, plus I didn't have any binding tape, and I didn't want to spend the time hand-making some. During the precious moments of my son's nap, I'm usually occupied, cleaning the kitchen, baking, cooking, unpacking, or reading. This leaves little time for sewing, so I looked for a pattern with straighter seams.<br />
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After a few fruitless minutes, I decided to just wing it. The result has ugly seams, and crimped ribbon, but it serves it's purpose:<br />
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I used a yard stick and the hanger to make the length and width, leaving one side attached, so that once cut, the fabric was one long piece. (In hindsight, I should have taken pictures while making it, but did I mention my time crunch?)<br />
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Because the open, pre-seamed edges are already reinforced, I used that as the bottom of the bag.<br />
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Next, I looped and cut three ribbons of equal size to act as the hangers hanging on the hanger. I love English. Then, I pinned the edge to form a seam (including the ribbons equidistant from each other). Sew.<br />
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After finishing with that seam, I folded it right-side in, and pinned to make the bag shape. Sew. Turned it right-side out, fixed the corners, and sheared the ribbon loops, so that I had two ribbons facing each other. Tied these ribbons on a hanger. I didn't have time to embellish<br />
today, but I will do so later. Did I mention the time thing? I think I did. All in all, this project took about 15 minutes, and is so handy!<br />
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Now, onto the wild onions. I'm doing some major gardening experiments this season. My fascination with plants has evolved slowly, beginning with-you guessed it-France. My host family had a beautiful garden out back, and always had edible herbs and lovely flowers growing. My organic education began there as well, and has also evolved over the years.<br />
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I was terrified to begin growing plants. They don't tell you what they need like a kid or a dog. The few plants I tried to grow when I was young ended up getting drowned or forgotten, so I decided to start slowly. A large herb garden and my first fruit tree graced our apartment balconies these last few years and grew (pardon the pun) until I fell pregnant with my son.<br />
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Everything died but my Rosemary, aloe Vera, and lemon tree, and those were barely alive once I came out of my horrible morning sickness. Last spring, overwhelmed by new motherhood, I added only some garlic chives to the mix (scrambled eggs with garlic chives and some milk, salt, and pepper are DIVINE).<br />
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This year, with our new yard, I busted out some seeds I've been collecting and dove head-first into the world of raised beds. After mulling over building materials, I decided to go with plain 16 inch cinder blocks for the edges. They're tough, easy to move and reassemble into other shapes, and won't rot. Best of all? They require no saw, drill, or real maintenance and are cheap.<br />
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One caveat. They are ugly. I will paint them eventually, but I was so concerned with getting my seeds in the ground before it got too hot, that I didn't care this season.<br />
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Companion planting. Have you heard of it? From the research I've done, apparently, certain plants compliment each other: radish and lettuce, strawberries and spinach, onions and carrots, etc. one really cool one is the "three sisters." Practiced by American Indians, corn grows straight up and acts as a trellis for the nitrogen fixing bean or pea plant, and squash crowds out surrounding weeds and retains moisture in the soil by preventing evaporation. Pretty sweet, right?<br />
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In my fervor to learn how this stuff works, I decided to "mimic nature" and plant companion seeds haphazardly in zones (i.e. I was too lazy to plan out rows). My garden looks something like this:<br />
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Three sisters (Glass Gem corn, sugar snap peas, crookneck squash)<br />
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Carrots and 10-15 onions<br />
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Lettuce and radishes, both assorted<br />
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Bell pepper and calendula<br />
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10-15 onions and assorted beets<br />
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strawberries, spinach, garlic chives<br />
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more onions and carrots (we eat lots of onions and carrots)<br />
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Parsley and assorted tomatoes<br />
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Snap peas<br />
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Courgette (zucchini, but I like the French name better)<br />
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Borage, nasturtium, calendula and two celery re-grow experiments (yep, I'm trying a Pinterest thing)<br />
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Cucumber and watermelon<br />
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Three Sisters (Sweet corn, snap peas, butternut squash)<br />
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What a mess! I know I planted waaaayyyy too much in the space I have, but I keep telling myself this season is experimental. I'm not all that familiar with growing annuals, because all of the herbs, flowers, and fruits I've grown are perennial (except parsley and basil).<br />
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I'll be watching and recording what grows well, what dies out, what takes over. We learn best from mistakes, right? RIGHT?!<br />
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Anywho, with the annual beds tucked in for the season, I've been stumbling around town lately, coming across various wild edibles. (I'm addicted to <a href="http://www.foragingtexas.com/">this blog</a>.) Although I've been fairly certain about my identifications, I haven't <i>actually</i> gotten the nerve to eat any of them except chickweed and wild blackberries.<br />
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This is how my brain works: <i>oh, that looks cool. I think I've seen that on Foraging Texas, let me look it up! Yeah, looks EXACTLY THE SAME. Mmmm, better not eat it, could be contaminated by the road, the dog in the yard, the......</i><br />
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See my problem? I have this theory that if I glean a few important ones from around town and grow them in my perennial beds (will construct along fence after fence is constructed), and they grow on their own, I'll feel better, because I know what's in my dirt. Make sense? Hmmm.<br />
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I may have OCD.<br />
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Well, I have a small partially shaded area that already has a cute picket fence by it, so I decided that if I found any wild edibles I want, I'll plant them there and water them and see what happens.<br />
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You may be wondering why I care about hunting wild edibles. Aren't domestics (the veggies at the grocery store which have been bred and selected over hundreds of years to create what we eat daily today) what we're "supposed" to eat? Yes and no. Domesticated plants are often fussy and are particular about water, sun, climate, and soil.<br />
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Wild natives are more suited to one's local area (climate, soil, etc), and tend to stock more nutrition than the average domestic (Ex: lamb's quarters, a wild relative of spinach, has 3 times the amount of calcium compared to spinach). Plus, they can bring visual and flavorful interest to domestic dishes.<br />
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I can go on about the wild ones, but in reality, I just need some plants that will take care of themselves because putting together annual beds every year can be time-consuming, labor-intensive, and expensive.<br />
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Back to the wild onions. Plantain, wild violets, wild primrose, and chickweed have been springing forth in abundance, but I haven't had the nerve to glean them yet. That changed today! While taking a family walk, I spied from across a big drainage ditch a robust flower that looked like an onion flower! Crow's poison (which is slightly toxic to humans and somewhat resembles wild onions is sprouting EVERYWHERE) has had me fooled a few times from a distance, so I didn't hold my breath when I came upon the humble plant.<br />
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Crow's poison smells like grass. Wild onions smell like onions, so I smell-tested the leaves and flower bud. YAY! Well, my husband and son had gotten quite ahead of me at this time, so I caught up with them, resigned to go back to the vacant lot and dig them up tomorrow.<br />
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We walked the rest of the mile home, and one street over, I saw a beautiful little tuft of grass with the onion bulbs swaying in the breeze above it, just sitting atop a culvert.<br />
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Excitedly, I bent over the colony of onions, grasped the base, and pulled straight up. They all came out easily and the smell reminded me of the last time I climbed Enchanted Rock. When we shimmied down the side of the granite batholith, a stream cut through the rock and nothing but HUGE colonies of wild onions grew along the water. The smell was sublime and identical to the ones in my hands.<br />
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The perfect little bulbs accompanied us home, where I planted them along the fence with some wild violets. I'll keep you posted on their growing. Tomorrow's agenda? Glean some healing plantain. <br />
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Happy homesteading!</div>
Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-24295837825790652832015-01-09T17:22:00.000-06:002015-01-09T18:07:22.911-06:00Forgiving Bread<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've always had this thing about bread. A comforting food that can be smothered with all types of gooey, jam-y, buttery goodness, bread has long been a favorite food of mine. Cue my years in France: my fondness for the simple loaf has burned to an obsession.<br />
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See, I grew up on the long shelf-life loaf so common in American grocery stores. I'd only ever had "fresh" bread a few times before my journey to France and I was more contented making buscuits anyway. I had no idea what I was missing.<br />
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Bread is the core-nay the heart and soul- of French cuisine. Breakfast? Bread and jam. Lunch? Bread and cheese and meat with crudités. 16:00 snack? Tea and cake or tea and bread. Dinner? 3 course meal and BREAD!<br />
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One of the first things I noticed was the deeply nourishing flavor of bread in France and after heavy research and hounding of the local boulangerie owners, my answer was simple: water, honey, grain, yeast, salt.<br />
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WHAT?! There's no secret ingredient? No fairy dust? No magic spell to justify my hefty consumption of this new staple?<br />
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I had to learn their secret. If you've read some of my earlier blogs, you know my last attempt at bread-making was a catastrophe. Baking soda and baking powder are comfortable leavenings that I trust. Yeast has dark secrets that I've never been able to uncover. Until a few weeks ago.<br />
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You must understand I am a Pinterest addict and also obsessed with the <i>Song of Ice and Fire</i> series by GRRM. The obsession collided when I stumbled upon <i>Inn at the Crossroads,</i> a food blog featuring the sumptuous foods of the Westerosi Universe, and there inlay my bread-making salvation.<br />
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The Crusty Bread recipe was simple to make and used the exact ingredients recommended to me by the French bread-sages. After following the recipe religiously, my first batch was ready to taste.<br />
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Mouth watering, I tore a side of steaming, springy goodness, lathered it with salted butter and reveled at the wondrous flavor. The texture was perfect. The weight was perfect. The CRUST was PERFECT. <br />
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I was pretty excited, y'all.<br />
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Over the next few weeks I began experimenting (both, intentionally and not) with the recipe to accommodate my needs. The batch the recipe makes is enormous. We're talking 4 large loaves here. I love bread, but I also like it fresh, so I began halving the recipe and making it every other day.<br />
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The only problem turned out to be time. The mixing and needing time was eating up the precious hour I get every day when my toddler is asleep (yes, I have a toddler now, hence my long absence). Some days, I enjoy relinquishing my frustration into the dough with a good, hard kneading session (seriously, it's almost as good as crying), but most days, I need (pun intended) my time.<br />
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Therefore, I discovered a modified recipe for a bread maker. This recipe-handmade or machine made- is very forgiving. Seriously, I forgot the salt once and, though bland, the bread was still totally edible.<br />
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Forgiving bread recipe (for machine):<br />
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1.5 cups water<br />
1-2 Tbls honey<br />
4 cups flour (I use unable ached organic white, though substituting 1cup with whole wheat will still give you a good rise)<br />
1 package of active dry yeast<br />
1 Tbls Sea salt<br />
* 1 tsp-Tbls each of sunflower, poppy, sesame, pumpkin, and flax seeds<br />
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*optional<br />
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Mix the water and honey together, pour into machine. Add the flour and other ingredients according to your machines directions for basic bread dough. Set your machine on the DOUGH option. Once the rise is complete, wet your hands and transfer dough to a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper. Dive. Shape. Cut a few lines in the dough with a serrated knife. Let rise another 40 minutes to an hour. Set oven to 450 degrees and place a pan of water on the bottom rack (I use an enameled pan for cooking turkeys). Bake dough until the crust sounds hollow when tapped (I use a wooden spoon). Transfer to cooling rack.<br />
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Happy baking!<br />
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-1362897865998483382014-12-08T22:39:00.002-06:002014-12-08T22:39:41.160-06:00Eat your Veggies!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Being a new mom has dramatically cut into my free time. Big surprise. Every teenager alive has heard this warning from their parents as a psychological birth control. A mallet beating against the anvil of hormones telling them to get naked. Well, teenager or not, it's not a lie. Baby NEEDS me---<i>constantly</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I actually want to hold him all the time, but I eventually DO have to put him down to do things like, you know, bath my stinky parts and maybe feed my calorie-burning inferno, milk-making body. (By the way, TMI: it impossible to NOT feel like a dairy cow while pumping.)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I digress.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My point is that with limited, baby nap times of about 20 minutes during the day, I need quick, nutritious meals that will help me keep up milk production and feel half-way alive. Cue the veggies, please!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We know the benefits. We've been knocked over the head by campaign after campaign touting the cancer-fighting, super hero phytochemicals: chlorophyll, beta-carotene, various amino acids that make up B vitamins, mono-saturated fats, tannins, antioxidants, etc. Of course, to benefit from these chemicals, we actually have to eat them, and prepare them for maximum absorption. Most people think the most healthful way to eat veggies is in their raw state, which is not necessarily always true.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It is good to eat some this way, but flash cooking them, either by blanching or sauteing, denatures many nutrients, making them easier to absorb. If you want to know which ones, take a nutrition class. I loved the one I took at UNT and learned that balance and temperance is the key to a healthful diet and state of being.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Also at UNT, I took a class entitled <u>Stress Reduction Through Movement</u>. Doesn't that sound happy? We actually covered some nutrition information as well. For information regarding overall health and well-being, I recommend the acronym <a href="http://newstart.com/what-is-newstart/">NEWSTART</a>. Click the link. Your adrenal glands will thank you.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Okay, enough diatribe. Onward to the recipe!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've realized since being with my husband, that many people are intimidated by the thought of cooking vegetables. No, they don't taste like cupcakes and often, many people <b>over</b>cook them, resulting in mushy, nearly tasteless, wanna-be baby food. To those people, or to the seasoned cook searching for a quick, healthy recipe, I give you Stoven Veggies!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The concept is broad and can involve countless permutations and ingredients. This is one example.</span><br />
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<i><u style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-size: small;">Stoven Veggies</span></u></i></h3>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You'll need:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1 large russet potato, diced </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2-3 Tbs olive oil</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1-2 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">3 large leaves of kale or 2 handfuls of fresh spinach</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2 small radishes or 1 small beet, diced</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">pinch of salt</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">pinch of pepper</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1/2 tsp dried basil</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1/3 cup shredded smoked mozzerella or 1/3 cup shredded parmesan (I'm a cheese hound, so I do both)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Optional: a few stems of fresh parsley</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1.)Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2.) In a small cast-iron or anodized aluminum pan (I have <a href="http://shop.maryjanesfarm.org/store/p/34-MaryJanesFarm-reg-Perfect-BakeOver-reg-Skillet.aspx">this one</a>), heat the garlic in the oil, on medium heat until tender. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">3.) Add potatoes and agitate until all pieces are coated in oil.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">4.) Add radishes or beet pieces. Repeat motion. Saute until pieces are slightly tender.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">5.) Add greens and toss.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">6.) Add seasonings. Toss.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">7.) Add cheese and place on center rack in the oven. Serve hot when cheese has melted and slightly browns.</span></div>
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This is a very versatile recipe. Basically, you need : oil base, starch, greens, seasonings, and cheese. Mix, heat, serve. Prep time should not exceed 10 minutes, neither should cook time. Happy sauteing!</div>
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-28370457023093768242014-12-08T22:34:00.002-06:002014-12-08T22:34:38.835-06:00Babies Are Constant Surprises<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Growing up, I always knew I wanted a kid. How? I wasn't sure about that part. I wasn't sure I could find a peer with whom I could live permanently. My obscene disregard of the clock and need to have solitary time on a regular basis aren't the most traditionally <i>appealing</i> traits in a woman. Still, eventually, I wanted an offspring. I thought maybe an adoption would work or a foster child or sperm donor and IVF---or maybe I would just get knocked up after a one-nighter and never tell the guy. Who knows?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Well, I did end up finding a mate whom I could love and tolerate, and he me. When the subject of children arose between us, we'd always imagine a kid who could walk, talk, and throw a ball. We completely skipped imagining the baby stage and I especially never thought about the pregnancy part. We were rudely awakened in March of 2013. I hastily paced our tiny bathroom for half an hour while re-checking the pee stick every 30 seconds. Shock was the dominant emotion, mixed with equal parts joy and terror. <i>Holy God, I am going to be responsible for this kid's soul, its life---AND I have to grow it. My body is going to be destroyed...</i> My thoughts went round and round in circles like this for weeks. My husband was overjoyed, but his concerns were different from mine, mostly financial. He suddenly had the <b>manly provider</b> mentality.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Needless to say, we've survived thus far, but not without some bumps, both wonderful and miserable. This is a list of the most unexpected things I encountered through this whole process. If you are thinking about starting a family, male or female, feel free to consider these 10 things. Heads up, my details are very honest, so be forewarned.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#1 Earliest Symptoms of Pregnancy</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Most books and websites list early symptoms as nausea, headaches, sore breasts, etc. as the earliest indicators. These were true at some point during the first trimester, but I had an inkling that my oven was occupied during the third and fourth weeks-before pregnancy tests are accurate-because my temperature was higher than usual and I was thirsty. The temp change wasn't readable, but when my husband would snuggle up to me during those early weeks, my body heat would make him break a sweat, when I would feel perfectly comfortable. Now, when I say I was thirsty, I was THIRSTY. Constantly. Stand-under-a-waterfall-and-gulp thirsty. <i>Toujours</i>. Point being that you will have your own signs. If your body feels <i>off</i>, it probably is.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#2 Puking</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have a strong aversion to vomit. Whether it be me or someone else, I will vacate the premises and sprint two blocks if I have a suspicion of someone retching. That being said, I was not looking forward to morning sickness. The first few weeks, I just had an unpleasant thud of nausea hitting the back of my throat all day. However, when week six arrived, I was camped out on the foot of my bed, that was conveniently 4 steps from my toilet. Twenty weeks and two ER trips for dehydration later, I only had a few waves of nausea and some heartburn that hit me during the rest of the pregnancy. Most women don't suffer this badly, but for the lucky 2% (including the lovely Duchess of Cambridge) who suffer from <i>hyperemesis gravidarum,</i> pregnancy is anything but pleasant, and can result in being life-threatening.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Seriously, at 10 weeks, I was standing next to my best friend, being the maid of honor, as she was GETTING MARRIED and I couldn't hold my cookies. I got dizzy and had to run back down the aisle to the bathroom to avoid complete and utter mortification. I still tried to hide under the table for the duration of the reception. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#3 Feeling baby move is like glitter-bubbles and rainbows</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When I first felt the baby move, and was sure it was the baby and not gas, I giggled stupidly to myself for an hour. You will feel as if all is well and you <i>are</i> actually pregnant. There is much doubt before this. One just feels sick and dying in the weeks before this sensation. During the second trimester, the baby moving feels like someone is tickling your belly from underneath your skin. It's sensational and happy. The last trimester feels like a mongoose in a burlap sack, but you are terrified if you go too long without feeling said mongoose move.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#4 Friendships shift</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Friends who don't have kids will either jump on your pregnancy bandwagon and you'll feel as if you've started some trend-train headed for Hollywood, or they will become so disinterested in your bodily function and excuses to not go out, that they will become <i>acquaintances.</i> Don't fault them for this. They have no way to understand how your complete world has shifted and that you have absolutely ZERO control over any of it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#5 Being healthy is crap</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Not really. Not in the sense you're thinking. When I fell pregnant, I was 116.2 lbs, running 2-3 miles a day, was a total yoga rat, and my diet would have made any Food Inc. nutritionist proud. None of this mattered. It didn't matter how much I took care of my body, I had an <b>high-risk </b>stamp on my medical charts throughout my pregnancy thanks to HG, severe anemia, and obstetric cholestasis---none of which I could improve through diet and exercise. I had to give in and take medications, stay on modified bed-rest, and be induced 3 weeks early because of these issues. If you suffer from pregnancy complications, remember <i style="font-weight: bold;">it's not your fault.</i> I spent a lot of time feeling guilty about taking nausea meds (that are usually given to chemo patients) and other prescriptions, because I'm a naturalist. I had a complete meltdown to my doctor one day, crying, "I swear I'm not negligent! I just can't stop throwing up!" and "I feel like every time I take a pill, I'm chopping off one of its fingers!" She assured me, these drugs don't work like this. They're safer than letting the conditions run their course. Drugs = better than severe dehydration. Got it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#6 You will want an ultrasound every week</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Reading about the size of your baby as compared to something from the produce aisle every week is not enough. Depending on your doctor, you may have an US during you initial visit, your 8th, 20th, 32nd, and 36th weeks. During the initial visit, the baby isn't usually visible, but the amniotic sack is. Read: jellybean. 8th week: gummy bear. The print-out of that gummy bear will help you mentally withstand the rest of your morning sickness or HG. It has a heartbeat and may even wiggle around. My gummy bear looked like he was dancing rhythmically. I finally believed I was pregnant.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#7 Gender disappointment</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-weight: normal;">Like postpartum depression, gender disappointment is rarely discussed. My husband and I were sure we were having a girl, and when the tech told us, "It's a boy! He's not shy!" My reaction was happy that he was healthy so far, but strangely jarred and sad that it wasn't a girl. All of my daydreams of the baby had revolved around pink nursery accoutrements, taking her to tea rooms, theatre, American Girl dolls, and all of the things I did as a child. I felt so guilty that I wasn't simply overjoyed to have a baby at all---a healthy baby at that! Once I worked through the guilt and realized that I wasn't alone in feeling like this, I began to feel happy about all of the boy things I would get to do with him. It took me a few days, but I realized that I could still take him to the theatre and museums and hunting and a tea room, he would just learn the male social construct. He would be my <i>date</i> and wear tiny little suits and learn manners. I can teach him to be a well-rounded gentleman and an appreciator of art, science, tea, and taxidermy---just like his father. Now I can't imagine not having him and I'm sooo excited about raising a boy!</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#8 Between pregnancy, L&D, and recovery, which was most pleasant?</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Drum roll please...</span> <span style="font-weight: normal;">labor and delivery was easiest and most enjoyable of the three. This does NOT apply to everyone and I certainly didn't expect it myself. Due to my complications, I went into early labor twice, but was able to stop it at home. Those labor pains though, began ripening and dilating my cervix. I went into true labor the night before my induction, but needed pitocin and my water broken the next morning. I opted for an epidural before these, but was at a 5 with very little pain. The contractions were more uncomfortable than anything. With the epidural and all of the induction aids, I progressed to a 10 while receiving visitors and talking with my sister and husband. The nurse came to check me and said, "Okay, time to start pushing!" That was a surprise! It progressed, and though exhausting, it was exciting. I hadn't daydreamed about too many good things related to an infant, but the finality of the pregnancy being over was my main motivation in pushing. The relief that followed is one of the sweetest sensations I've ever experienced (being taken care of in the hospital for 3 days was really nice too).</span></span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#9 The Feels</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oh wow, was I so NOT prepared for the feelings part. I've always been a bit of a hard-ass. I can tell you exactly one movie (The Christmas Shoes) and one book (Where the Red Fern Grows) that have made me cry. Relationships? I always end them. Falling in love? It takes me a looooong time. It took me 4 years and living together for 3, to decide that I wanted to marry my husband. I assumed that it might take me a few months to warm up to this parasite that had made me so, incredibly miserable for the better part of a year. Nope. As soon as I saw him, I burst into tears (where previously, through the whole labor, there were none). A mixture of relief, joy, pure love, some worry (the nurses had to take him away to pink up), and emotions for which there are no words crashed upon me in an enormous, happy, fluffy avalanche.</span><br />
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<h4>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#10 Baby Bliss</span></h4>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This may come as a surprise to many people, but I had a hard time imagining the happy, goofy-in-love part of the baby coming out. I had visions of a screaming, pooping, hungry, infant that pop culture has turned into a mainstay of Hollywood comedy. I knew sex was going to be on hold, I figured breastfeeding would be difficult, basically all things that are glass-half empty about having a baby. Even Baby Blues were imagined more than any happiness and contentment about this little larvae. Quite the opposite happened after the delivery. I was exhausted and in a considerable amount of pain from the tearing and packing, but I had an overwhelming sense of well-being. Aside from some emotional sensitivity the first few days home from the hospital that was directly related to some nursing issues, I was in Heaven. Imagine my delight at changing a diaper at 2:30 AM, and smiling dumbly to myself. Staring for hours at my sleeping little parcel wasn't long enough. Hearing him cry physically pains me. Seeing him smile or learning how to grasp makes me giddy.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ultimately, of all my grand academic and recreational accomplishments, they pale terribly in comparison to the pride and joy I feel of growing this little human. I am a mother, struck deeply in love.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For all of the mamas out there, what was unexpected for you? For all who want children later, what do you imagine motherhood to be like?</span></div>
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-42758245706793326982012-11-04T16:24:00.000-06:002012-11-04T16:24:52.440-06:00Crafty musings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh holy goodness, it has been some time! A *cough* whole half of a year since my last post. My life has been, to say the least, eventful these days.<br />
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First, and most importantly, I joined an alternative certification program to become a French teacher in mid-July (after a broken foot, college graduation, some heartache, and lots of soul-searching), thinking that I would work on the program, while keeping my college job and maybe becoming employed next fall---imagine my flabergasted-ness when I became employed by a school district 9 days after receiving acceptance into the program.<br />
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My life was suddenly consumed by thoughts of changing the world one middle-schooler at a time and teaching them to be fluent in French by high school. (I swear I am a realist, but this is the teacher dream, so I day-dreamed during the remaining week of summer before actual reality charged into my life.)<br />
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Needless to say, my time has not been my own until maybe a week ago.<br />
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Side-note: during this fervent madness, I received an email about early-september from one<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">of the fabulous members of the MaryJanesFarm writing team, informing me that a poem I wrote in APRIL would be donning the cover of the <i>Keeping in Touch</i> section of the October/November 2012 issue! </span><br />
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I promptly squealed in excitement and charged for my phone to inform my mama about the honor. It was much needed, considering I had been completely consumed in teacher-world trying to write lesson plans, decorate my room, start a French club, and manage 6 classes spanning three grade-levels at a last minute's notice. End side-note.<br />
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Anyway, my new career has definitely had its challenges and rewards, and just like any first-year I have followed the expectation/energy level chart to a T thus far. Super high expectations in August, begins to fall with overwhelmedness in September and hitting rock-bottom in mid-October. Two weekends ago, I was so depressed I had a hard time getting out of bed and I informed my husband that I "am not cut-out for teaching" and "I can't do this" and "I wasted four years of my life in college, because I have to find a new career."<br />
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A little dramatic, you think?<br />
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Then, on Monday I was good to go, and have been on a steady energy/happiness rise and leveling out, seeing the holidays grow ever closer and gaining good rapport with my kids.<br />
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All of that being said, the last two weekends I have been in a very crafty mood. I tend to feel better going back to work on Monday when I see a product I have produced over the weekend. Honestly, making things also helps me to not work on the weekends, which is a huge challenge, but I know I must resist the temptation or I will fall back into loathsome burn-out.<br />
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Last weekend, we had a severe cold-snap (for Texas that means it got below 50 degrees). My tea got cold and in my frustration I decided that it would be a good day to make a teapot cozy. I researched and gathered advice from serval sources, and knew that I just did NOT want to buy anything to make it.<br />
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I dug out some old material from mine and Hubby's wedding, an old sweater a friend was going to throw out, and some plain fabric from a project I'd done in my French business class last semester.<br />
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One problem was that I didn't have a pattern---so I made one---out of an underwear catalogue.<br />
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Some measuring was involved, but mostly guessing. Also, in the photo is my first attempt at a stocking pattern from this weekend. More on that later.<br />
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During this attempt at sewing, I was promptly reminded as to why I had not used my machine in so long. It kept snagging the thread and producing a loose bottom stitch. Frustrated, I almost gave up, but I have this perseverance problem-like stubbornness disease-that is also accompanied by competitiveness. I diligently turned to my good friend Google and inter-webbed my way to a problem and thus a solution.
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Turns out that when a needle breaks on a sewing machine (the last needle to break on mine happened in 2008, I think) it creats a bur on the bobbin hook that holds the bobbin case and breaks the thread and produces a loose bottom stitch.
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Okay, problem identified. Solution?
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Interwebs prevail again!
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I needed a metal file, some machine oil, and a brush. Off I went to the trusty fabric store, found the two latter things, but no file :(
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The sales lady informed me that there was a hardware shop in the same parking lot, so I trecked over there only to discover that they had closed. Then, I saw it. A beauty supply store had its door propped open in the cool weather. I walked in and half-heartedly asked if they had metal nail files, expecting nothing---they had them!
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Long story short, I repaired my own sewing machine and finished my project, which made me feel further gumption this weekend.
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I proceeded to make a cute, little, lop-sided, up-cycled thing that keeps my tea warm in these wee winter months.<br/ >
Now, you must understands that in true Farmgirl style, my husband and I have always had a "make-do" mentality---it's easy when you're poor. That being said, I try to make everything if I can. Everything.
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Another thing about me, one of my favorite Christmas traditions is the Christmas stocking. I have one at my mom's house that she made for me when she was pregnant. It's completely '90s-tastic with sequins and felt. Since I can remember, I've always looked forward to Christmas morning, not for the big presents, nor the stuff that has been wrapped and sitting under the tree for weeks, but the tiny treasures that reside in my stocking.
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Usually a small array of my favorite candies, a pocket knife, a keychain, a piece of jewelry, a small doll, always tiny, always my favorite.
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Last Christmas was mine and my Husband's first Christmas to be married and it was fantastic, aside from constant work and classes getting in the way. However, I missed the stockings. I hadn't wanted to buy them, it seemed too frivolous, and I had put off making them because I worked 50 hours in <br />retail the week of Christmas, so I just contented myself with stockings at home and decorating the best I could in our apartment.
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This year will be different, I decided.
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I free-handed a stocking on the underwear catalogue pages and it looked great. It was a little narrow at the top, so I decided to try it again. The second attempt resembled a mangled squirrel, so I stuck with the first one, citing beginner's luck.
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Now for the material. When I go to the store---it's annoying, like I'm the person who spends two hours at the grocery store walking, pondering recipes, and enjoying the eclectic music only to realize the sun has gone down while I was deciding between kale and romaine.
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It's worse at craft and antique stores. I also decided that I am going to hand-make my family's gifts this year, so that added a considerable amount of time as well.
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Oh the fabric choices! I couldn't decide whether I wanted to match Hubby's to mine, or give our own flavors, or use the same color schemes or what. I then stumbled upon a fabulous barn-red fabric that actually looks like barn wood. (hubby's only request was that his be red.)
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I then stumbled upon some cross between burlap and muslin unbleached, cotton material and the designs began to fall into place. After finding some sage lace and wooden buttons, it was off to find treasures for creating family gifts.
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When I arrived home, I set straight to work, and only stopped to make dinner.
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I ended up labeling the stockings with not our names, but our favorite nicknames, which turned out to be so personal, I just love them! <br/ >
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Tiny and 7-Pack are looking forward to family time and carols!
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Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-90560018981158239822012-05-03T14:53:00.000-05:002012-05-03T14:53:31.182-05:00Happy Mugeut Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Muguet Day!<br />
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So, I ran around saying "Happy Muguet Day!" to everyone I saw on May 1st and posted "Happy Muguet Day!" all over my various social media portals on our little May Day 2012. It probably drove my husband nuts to hear all about people's reactions when we got home from work and class Tuesday, but he indulged my ramblings as usual :)<br />
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Most people just raised an eyebrow and laughed or ignored my greeting completely this day, my mother-in-law was probably the only one to inquire about the meaning. Her response? "Happy Muguet Day to you! Wait, what's Muguet Day?"<br />
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This day is kind of a big deal in France. A national holiday--the workers' holiday--to be exact. In fact, celebrating the cause of workers (what we now celebrate as Labor Day) on May first is a custom that originated in the United States in the 1800's when the labor unions were at the peak of the fervor and righteous battles against abusive labor conditions. The celebration had a distinctly left-wing--even communist--flavor, and perhaps that's why in the US the date was quietly moved to early September and the name of the holiday changed to Labor Day. The buying for oneself or one's loved ones or friends a pot or bouquet of lily of the valley (muguet de bois) is a beautiful and simple celebration of this day. Lily of the valley is referred to as a "porte-bonheur"--literally, "bringer of happiness" or what we would call a good luck charm.</div>
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A few days before May Day, you begin to see vendors popping up on every corner selling lily of the valley. Although at all other times of the year, selling any kind of flowers or anything else on the street requires paying for a permit, merry May Day is exempted from this tax, and anyone can sell the blossoms anywhere without being tithed by the city. Commuters are everywhere clutching their lily of the valley, to be offered to girl- or boyfriend, husband or wife, dinner host, boss, you name it. Even the Metro is perfumed.</div>
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I was reminded of this little holiday on the night of April 30th, quietly. It was an innocent scent of nostalgia that wrought havoc in my memory bank all day on Tuesday. An uncovering of a childhood toy or game during spring cleaning, a passing of a photo on a wall (or in my case, a pin-board) and <i>snap</i> you are transported to a silver-rimmed, rosy-colored version of a distant memory. That's what happened.</div>
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Now you must understand, Tuesdays are a little rough for this gal. I get to work by 6:45am and work until 3:00pm-ish, drive home and change, take my dog outside, run for the bus, and hopefully arrive at my <i>stress reduction through movement</i> class before 4:00, then stay until 6:00ish and take the bus or walk home. Weekly doozy-day. That being said, this little flower ushered me through this Tuesday-the last Tuesday I had to run this gauntlet before my college graduation next week. Oh my gah! Next week. It's hard to conceive.</div>
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Now, along with my lovely visions of little sweetly-scented vines of white bells, I was possessed by an overwhelming urge to FIND said little flowers this day. My problem? FINDING said little flowers in Texas on May Day. By the time I arrived home, all of the florists-short of large grocery depots were closed, but my determination was unwavering. On to a local grocer I charged, with visions of white dancing flowers in my head. OH reality--you get me every time.</div>
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No muguet. I was in need of some organic half-and-half anyway, for making soups this week, so I sadly trudged to the dairy aisle, grabbed a quart of the stuff, and mosied back to the flowers. I couldn't go home empty-handed, not after all of that, so I settled on lily-of-the-world, which smell divine as well and would fit nicely in a new vase a friend had gleaned from an estate sale on our last girly-date.</div>
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Upon arrival home, I cut the stems, filled the vase and gave them food. Why was I feeling like someone had just kicked my dog or stolen my favorite yoga pants or one of my plants just died? </div>
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I was homesick for France. It always happens like that. I will be floating through life, happiness abounds while I'm surrounded by beautiful and wonderful people, I have<a href="http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/"> MaryJanesFarm</a> to read, tea in my cup, fruit on my table, honey and milk flowing and then<i> umph</i>. Brick wall. It happened while I was there too, if you read my other blog, you should know this.</div>
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How to contend? How to cope with something so isolating? I know next to no one who has had the experience of spending a significant amount of time living in another culture with whom I can discuss this feeling. Now I understand. This is the true <i>raison d'</i><span style="text-align: left;"><i>être</i> for this blog. </span></div>
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My initial reasoning for this blog was purely going to be based on food, hence most of the inspiration for the title. However, now, I understand its true purpose-helping me to contain my sanity while I fight the urge to board every flight between here and Paris in hopes of "making it work" there.</div>
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With that realization made and accepted, I MUST update you on my <i>petit jardin de poche</i>, okay, so not a pocket garden, but that's what it feels like. My balcony container garden is steadily growing (hehe, pun) and I couldn't be happier about it. </div>
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I had this notion that in order to have some sort of <i>proper</i> garden, I needed to have land, rented or owned. However, in a very recent, HUGE decision, the hubby, new roomie, and I will be leasing yet another apartment. I like apartments. They're compact, all of the space is used and therefore, just small enough to be homey and comfortable, there's usually a gym, pool, and short walk to a store, however, remaining in a college town, after college is over, leaves us with minimally quiet options. Our initial plan was to rent a house together, but most are severly dilapidated and maintenance issues would be our responsibility.</div>
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We found a complex on a golf course! Which will provide some much-needed quiet, minimal student interaction (it's mostly young families and professionals), and stunning green spaces through which to walk and view from our new balcony!! I'm a <i>little</i> excited. </div>
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That being decided, I had to contend with the fact that since we weren't moving into a rent house, I would still not have access to moist, soft earth in which to grow things. I spent a few days sad about this, but then had an epiphany while lying in bed trying to sleep. I don't have to wait!</div>
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In France, most people live in apartments-without balconies-and they STILL grow things. Those charming little window boxes hovering above cobblestone streets, spilling the aroma of fresh herbs and spring flowers onto the entranced passer-byes? Hello? Screams France!...and since our balcony will be WAY bigger than a window box can fit, I thought, <i>why limit when I can have a garden or green oasis?...Challenge accepted.</i></div>
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In short, I am slowly building an outdoor mini-paradise, <i>un paradis de poche</i> I think I'll call it...hm...maybe I'll hang a cute sign that says that...my point is that if you want to do something, do it. If you want to learn something, learn it. Next time you think of something cute to do or make, ask yourself <i>why not? Why not now?</i> Trust me, this is a lot coming form an habitual, neurotic planner.</div>
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Letting go and doing something you enjoy, or figuring out how to scale it down to fit your time and budget can be intimidating, but it can also be the fun part! I'm slowly learning this with help from my sainted husband, ma belle-mère (I love the French expression for mother-in-law, it's so sweet and TOTALLY describes mine :), and various bloggers who have come before me, leaving their vast and experienced knowledge for others to unearth, and who seem to be much more brazen than I.</div>
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À plus tard!</div>
</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-12005126880241199022012-02-11T23:08:00.001-06:002012-02-12T01:51:51.319-06:00A Gastronome's Dilemma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>Gastronome. </i>I heard this word and its derivatives countless times in France. In looking for an official translation, the words <i>epicure</i> and <i>foodie</i> surfaced often. When living in a foreign place and learning a foreign language, you find that there are many terms and ideas which are so deeply rooted to the culture, that there is no possible way to communicate a proper translation to someone of a different culture.<br />
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Over the course of my stay, I came to understand the meaning of this idea, more than a word, to mean <i>a connoisseur of the general things about quality food.</i> This translation STILL does not do it justice. There is an energy and passion behind food in France that I've only ever experienced in our culture by hunting or gardening.<br />
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They have a profound sense of wanting to know the origin of their food. The idea of industrialized food is becoming more mainstream with influences like us, but the vast majority of people find the idea of buying a food out of season or from another country, repulsive.<br />
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I can't convey to you how many times I walked by stacks and mounds of tomatoes or oranges in February that no one had touched at the grocery stores. Organic foods are the first to disappear from shelves and GMOs (genetically modified organisms) are banned all across Europe. <br />
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I really had no idea or information about any of this prior to my departure from the US. My understanding was that buying whole, fresh fruits, grains, etc. were what I was supposed to do if I didn't have a garden.<br />
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Meat is a different story. My family has always been a unit of avid hunters, therefore, buying much meat outside of the price to rent a deer lease was rarely done. My host family in France gave me, no, <i>offered</i> me a polite and quiet education about organics.<br />
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My second morning living with them, was spent in an open-air market where, in January, winter produce, like chards, meats, cheeses and baked goods were what was available to buy. We moseyed along, buying ewe's cheese that looked, <b>and smelled</b>, like toe-jam, baked biscuits that weren't wrapped or even handled with gloves and lettuces still covered in dirt. I also proceeded to buy a gallette filled with an half-cooked egg and unpasteurized cheese.<br />
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To be brutally honest, I would have NEVER done any of those things in the US. The sole reasons for which I was not immediately grossed-out were simply that I was fiercely jet-lagged, completely un-acclimatized and open to every new experience. A few days later, an impromptu soiree brought friends, fresh scallops and raw oysters together for dinner. I scarfed the scallops, but refused the raw oysters, citing that I'd had salmonella in 2008.<br />
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All of them stopped and stared at me, as if I had brought back the plague single-handedly and laid it down on their dining room table! The concept of food contamination is so rare, it's almost foreign to them. I explained that I believed I'd gotten it from a certain American fast-food chain during a tomato outbreak and have done everything possible since to never eat fast-food again. <br />
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Another incident was standing in the kitchen with my host mother as she fitfully cursed and went on a rant to my host father. Confused, I asked what happened, and she proceeded to tell me that the people from whom she'd bought some Camembert had given her the wrong one. She'd wanted the one WITHOUT the pasteurized milk and that the taste was completely wrong. She also informed me that cheese made from raw milk is the most beneficial to your digestive system. This is how I mean they <i>gently</i> educated me about organic and local foods.<br />
<br />
Later, she showed me the shower, the hair products, invited me to use them, her saponin seeds (she didn't even know the name, since the information on the bag was in German, she just said a friend recommended them and they work, so why does it matter?) and geranium oil that washed our clothes, all of these seemingly "new-fangled" ideas that have been around for centuries all over the world, I was just hearing about. She would smile sheepishly and say, "yeah, this is a little weird, but it's completely bio-degradable" or "yeah, it smells funny, but it's really good for you."<br />
<br />
I never questioned her methods and blindly followed to test the results, every time being happily surprised. Which finally rounds me to my point. Upon my arrival back in the States, I began paying attention to my groceries, doing research and becoming informed.<br />
<br />
I'll be honest. I went into a panic when I read what I read. I was angry with myself for never having put together the fact that my mother is allergic to practically every refined and manufactured drug and preservative under the <b>Nutritional Facts</b> labels on our foods, that I had chronic auto-immune problems and that my whole family has blood-sugar and thyroid problems.<br />
<br />
Exercise is important, as is fresh air and proper water consumption, but food, oh food is the doozy. I've had modern medicine fail me many times, heal me too, but mostly fail. I felt that I couldn't trust doctors, because I'm a numbered chart to them. I felt that I wasn't being protected by my own government, (I advise you to read this <a href="http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2011/09/28/cnn-poll-trust-in-government-at-all-time-low/">CNN</a> poll) then I'd found that the sustenance from which my body derives life-giving energy was also unsafe.<br />
<br />
As a <i>gastronome</i>, I had a dilemma.<br />
<br />
Miraculously, my research and some happenstance led me to wonderful companies, and I began feeling better. I switched my family to all organic, as local as possible foods and have been so ecstatic with the results. My husband and I had a pow-wow and after explaining my research, he agreed that it's worth the price tag.<br />
<br />
I confess that we are currently living on a very tight budget, but are still able to do it. I plan our meals a week in advance and have been baking and freezing the fruits of my labor, to eliminate the time-crunch of eating the goods before they stale. It not only has taught us to appreciate the food, but also evaluate our hunger at any given moment.<br />
<br />
Husband told me this morning, as I was teaching him how to whip up some biscuits, that he woke up earlier and teared-up at the sight of milk in our fridge, because he was so appreciative to have it. I asked what spurred the thought, and he just shook his head and said that he has just been thinking about what it would be like to suddenly go without things like food. The guy makes me think. All the time.<br />
<br />
Still, I confess to being a total closet farmer. A dream would be to buy a small piece of used and abused land, rebuild the soil and raise a milk cow and goats, chickens and all of the fruits and veggies under the sun, as well as my family. For now, I'll settle with my growing (no pun intended) herb garden in my living room.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P2071080.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P2071080.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I realize you may be wondering what sparked this fervent soap box. I watched the Academy Award Nominated documentary <i><a href="http://www.foodincmovie.com/">Food Inc</a> </i>and was nauseated within the first few minutes, but watched the duration. It is my opinion that everyone in this country should watch it and reevaluate their food habits. Reevaluate the amount you spend on food. Understand the cost of your health and the health of nature. Understand the scarcity of quality food in our current system and that our money protects those who are essentially destroying the land, our bodies and the integrity of good farmers.<br />
<br />
I know where my budget goes and am proud to say that even though it's tight and small, it makes at least a little difference.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P2071082.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P2071082.jpg" /></a></div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-61744281837535160302012-02-06T23:24:00.001-06:002012-02-08T17:33:19.125-06:00A Cure for Apathy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Today was rough. Among some personal things and school things, I came home after a long, hard jog and quick stretch, expecting to feel better. Physical strain is one of my favorite ways to escape the day, escape my trouble and to concentrate on the burn in my legs and the swift beat of my heart.<br />
<br />
Today though, my remedy didn't work. I came home feeling indifferent to the world, and after ingesting about a pound of chocolate, I didn't feel much better. I made a list to quell the overwhelming-ness that was breeding the indifference in my head.<br />
<br />
It helped, but after laundry and picking up a few things at the grocery store, I didn't have much to show for the hours I'd been occupied. I sat down at my laptop to watch...anything. Reading wasn't even appealing. At this point, I was tempted to check for fever. I ALWAYS want to read.<br />
<br />
I suddenly felt worse than apathetic. I felt lazy AND apathetic. So what did I do? I decided that the Vanilla infused bourbon that's been sitting on my table for 7 weeks needed to be strained and put to good use.<br />
<br />
I pushed myself out of my chair, turned up the radio and began banging the edge of the lid of the container holding the liquid against the counter (much to my dog's dismay). Our poor neighbors, who knows what they thought was happening. LOUD NOISES! BARKING DOG! LOUD MUSIC!<br />
<br />
I finally got the lid unscrewed and strained the liquid into another container with a spout-thing, to make it easier to transfer the liquid from that, into a funnel, into three glass bottles with droppers. That's a lot of transfer. I didn't think of that-and now my kitchen smells like a distillery.<br />
<br />
Regardless, I now had three bottles of young, dark, beautiful, homemade vanilla extract. Granted, one I promised to a friend, but that still left two! What to make?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P2061074.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P2061074.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Recently, my husband and I have been working all hours, trying to avoid the poor house, but it has come to the point where I must get creative, if we are to keep eating healthily and organically.<br />
<br />
We honestly have tried to go back to super-store produce, to save money (because frankly, my husband has the appetite of a small militia and our food bill far surpasses any of our other bills, besides rent). This being said, it did not go well. We trashed the few non-organic (probably GMO) apples we bought, and decided that I would hunt for low organic prices, more local markets and make pretty much EVERYTHING from scratch.<br />
<br />
I just quit one of my jobs, so that I could have more time to focus on my studies (and my home). This is taking some adjustment time, but I'm grateful for it. In spirit of being a bread-hound and Husband being a protien-disposal, I decided the cheapest and best way to keep us from buying junk food (usually organic, but still processed and expensive) is to keep a continuous supply of easily accessible treats and a large, hardy meat product readily available.<br />
<br />
In short, we cooked a huge chicken overnight two nights ago and I decided to bake with fervor tonight.<br />
<br />
Husband loves scones. The big, burly man, who, mind you, has been named Samson by our pastor's boy, Tarzan by a friend's husband, Fabio by my mother and Gaston by myself, you can imagine the giggle I get watching him eat the little dainties. No, not eat. Scarf. He scarfed both batches I made last week within a day or two! (I <i>may </i>have helped a bit.)<br />
<br />
I've also kept a few batches of buttermilk biscuits in the freezer, to act as my breakfast and accompany our other meals. (Since I lived in France, I haven't been able to shake the habit and <i>need</i> for at least a little bread with every meal.)<br />
<br />
Those stockpiles were exhausted yesterday, so I decided scones would be best (and I needed to do something with the over-ripe blueberries in my fridge anyway). The new twist, though, was that I didn't have any buttermilk (hence all of the scones, biscuits and a pan of gingerbread last week).<br />
<br />
<i>Insert coy smile HERE.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I enjoy tampering with recipes, if you've read any of my previous posts, you know this (unless it comes to French macarons). Anyway, I decided that I would substitute the buttermilk with cream, an egg, vanilla extract, and a little less butter.<br />
<br />
The dough came out a sticky, impossible mess and I fought and played with it, while dancin' and jammin' to Blake Shelton's <i>Honey Bee</i>. Two-steppin' around my kitchen with, what must have looked like a flesh-eating monster, singing and laughing at not being able to get the mess off of my fingers, cured my indifferent attitude.<br />
<br />
With my blood pumping, a smile on my face, flour on my apron and producing something with my hands-in true country girl, farmgirl style-I became my happy self again.<br />
<br />
I tried to pat out the dough on the floured counter, but ended up dumping about a 1/4 cup of flour on top of the heap, just to hammer it out. I was finally able to at least get blobs of goo onto my parchment-papered baking sheet.<br />
<br />
Sticking them in the oven, I was convinced they'd taste like matted flour and Husband would eat them anyway, because in his words, "if you eat it fast enough, it doesn't matter what it tastes like."<br />
<br />
<i>Queue my eyes rolling.</i> Genetically disposed super-taster over here.<br />
<br />
After about 15 minutes, I could hear the blueberries sputtering and oozing, and decided they were done. After transferring them to the wire rack, I laughed softly, thinking that my earlier attempts were so pretty. They looked like they came from a coffee shop, but then, I tasted one of the new ones.<br />
<br />
Oh my goodness, they were fluffy and light and kind of amazing. Happy accidents are so fun!!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P2061072.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P2061072.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Anyway, after thinking about it, every time I have felt a little down or apathetic, and I've baked, I've always come out nice and shiny again, like dusting an oak armoire, I feel renewed.<br />
<br />
What do you do to pull yourself out of the dumps?<br />
<br />
P.S. I started T'ai Chi and Yoga this week in my <i>stress reduction through movement </i>course and HIGHLY recommend them to anyone with a stressful or busy life.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Blueberry Scones</span><br />
<br />
Ingredients<br />
<br />
2 cups flour<br />
4 teaspoons baking powder<br />
3/4 teaspoon salt<br />
1/2 cup sugar<br />
6 tablespoons butter<br />
3/4 cup cream<br />
1 egg<br />
1 teaspoon (about) vanilla extract<br />
Handful dried and fresh blueberries<br />
<br />
Directions<br />
Heat oven to 375 degrees.<br />
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Mix well. Cut butter into small pieces and use your hands to combine the ingredients. It should look like a yellow meal when you're finished.<br />
In a separate bowl, combine cream, vanilla extract and beaten egg, then add to dry ingredients. Stir in fruit. Turn dough out onto a floured surface. Roll dough out and cut into shapes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-27828584707506045702011-12-02T01:43:00.001-06:002011-12-02T01:46:51.878-06:00(Thanks)Giving 10%<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I love my husband. Period. He is the perfect hitch for my wagon and I wouldn't change a thing about him. He could be summed up in a series of words. Loving. Caring. Thoughtful. Helpful. The list continues. If I had to use one word to describe my other half, though, it would be <i>good</i>. In the English language, this word is often taken for granted.<br />
<br />
<i>Good</i> is used to describe menially positive things. When I use this word to describe him, I mean it in the way of <i>a good man</i>, in every sense a <i>good human being</i>. Now that you are on the verge of vomiting with this mooshy, gooey grossness, I'll ease your suffering.<br />
<br />
A close second to the word <i>good</i>, and I mean a close second, as in millimeters close second, would be <i>impulsive.</i> Yes, drop of the hat, react without using his brain, utterly and entirely <i>impulsive.</i> In the best possible way, of course.<br />
<br />
He lives<i> in the moment</i> more than any three people put together I know, which to someone who is spastically neurotic, like yours truly, is as fascinating as it is terrifying and panic-inducing. In short, he keeps me on my toes.My toes, got a little squished the Sunday before Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
We have joined a wonderful new church in our current city, but sadly have missed many uplifting messages and tear-jerking sermons on account of being employed part-time. Used and abused college students usually don't get weekends to themselves.<br />
<br />
Last Sunday, Husband was miraculously off of work and went to hear God's Word. When he returned home I asked how it went and about the subject matter. He gave me a brief summary and I went about my day. Now, you must understand, a few weeks ago, we discussed tithing 10% of one of our pay checks regularly to the church, because we believe in this little family we've found and wish for it to grow.<br />
<br />
This is where <i>impulsive</i> queues stage right and the orchestra strikes Bach #5.<br />
<br />
Husband: "Oh, by the way, don't be mad."<br />
<br />
Me: Giggle, "Okay, why would I be mad?"<br />
<br />
Husband: "I kind of caught up on our tithing this morning."<br />
<br />
Me: <i>Raising the eyebrow</i>.<br />
<br />
Husband: "I just, you know, thought we should catch up for the year, since it's almost December, so I gave away 10% of what's in our account."<br />
<br />
SILENCE...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">MORE SILENCE...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">EVEN MORE SILENCE...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
I subsequently BURST into laughter, as is my habit when faced with uncomfortable or heavily weighted situations.<br />
<br />
Me: "Yeah baby? You didn't think that important to discuss with me first?"<br />
<br />
Husband: "I thought about that as I was putting the envelope into the plate. At least I thought about it before I got home! I'm sorry! I won't do it again."<br />
<br />
I continued laughing and insisted that of all the things about which we hear husbands doing with joint money, giving that sum to our church was by far better than anything like gambling or spending on any other vice which could be harmful.<br />
<br />
Seriously though? 10% of our ENTIRE account at once just before Christmas, but, I have a sainted husband who always thinks of others first. Who would condemn that? I truly admire his willingness and ability to GIVE, yet another lesson I've learned in our young married life. </div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-47993260116993628012011-10-31T15:39:00.000-05:002011-10-31T15:39:04.246-05:00Honey, tea's ready!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have this thing for honey. Isn't it a funny word? We use it, at least in my house, constantly.<br />
"Honey, I'm home!"<br />
"Hi honey bun!"<br />
"Honey, the tea's ready!"<br />
"Would you like some honey in your tea?"<br />
<br />
Since childhood, I've often preferred honey on things as opposed to conventional white sugar. When I moved to North Texas, this <i>thing</i> grew into immense appreciation, considering this particular area is one of, if not the worst, place for seasonal allergies.<br />
<br />
I'd NEVER had allergies before then. I hadn't known what had hit me. My first spring in college was spent in a hazy fog of pollen and sinus headaches. While at the grocery store one day, I was looking for peanut butter and came across a trove of honey brands. I began reading and stumbled onto a a local honey bottle.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, my father's and grandmother's voices sounded in my head like a drill sergeant's, "local honey is good for allergies." Being dutiful to the reminiscent voices, I obeyed and call it true or psychological placebo effect, it worked.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to my semester abroad. The first three months was nothing but rain and clouds. Not the vicious thunderstorms of Texas, but a constant, Eeyore-like drizzle, to which there was no end. I took honey in my tea, out of habit, but was shocked at the flavor. It makes sense that it would taste differently, I was on the other side of the planet for goodness sake, but I hadn't anticipated such a drastic difference in something as simple as my beloved sweetener.<br />
<br />
I slowly became accustomed to the taste and discovered a new trove of, not just brands, but flavors. Honey from the Alps, dark and strong from conifer pollen, Fleur d'oranger, sweet and calm, and a number of others from Spain, Germany, and Italy with vastly different flavors as well.<br />
<br />
When I returned home, Texas's honey was so subtle and light, compared to the latter ones. Recently, I bought an organic brand of unfiltered honey (I always buy unfiltered, it's just better). I hadn't realized that it was from Brazil. Opening the lid, I was almost sent off my feet with the strong smell and flavor.<br />
<br />
Delicious as it is, not much is needed. Thinking of all of the rain forest flowers and tropical fruits whose pollen made it into the honey, it's no wonder that it is strong.<br />
<br />
Regardless of this wonderful flavor I found, that simple, subtle Texas honey must always be sitting in my pantry. In light of picking some up the other day, I decided to make cornbread. It seemed like the perfect thing to do right after a cold front blew its way into my neck of the woods.<br />
<br />
Baked o perfection, cornbread, like honey, always makes me feel comfortable and at home. I usually bake a 9in pan and just lay a kitchen rag or cheese cloth over it to keep the bugs off. It's nice to come home from a long day and warm up a piece, put a bit of butter in the middle and drizzle some Texas honey over it.<br />
<br />
Here's the recipe I used:<br />
<br />
1 cup all purpose flour<br />
1 cup yellow cornmeal<br />
1/2 cup sugar<br />
1 tsp salt<br />
3 1/2 tsp baking powder<br />
1 egg<br />
1 cup milk<br />
1/3 cup olive oil<br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.<br />
Mix all of the dry ingredients together.<br />
Stir in wet contents.<br />
Butter or grease the pan.<br />
Pour batter into 9 in pan<br />
Bake 20-25 min.<br />
<br />
Yummy!!! </div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-52748056534817820682011-10-01T20:40:00.000-05:002011-10-01T20:40:17.042-05:00A Tale of Two Soups<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">May I just say that I love Autumn, or Fall, as we say in the South. I love it. I love the oncoming coolness, the fall harvest vegetables and fruits, fall fashions, breaking out the sweaters and boots, county fairs, beautiful, crisp sunsets, deer season, holidays, and hearty meals. I'm also a fall baby. Yay for October birthdays!<br />
<br />
As a new wife, I'm still getting the hang of domestic life...things. Cooking is a good example. I've always been gifted in sugary concoctions and sweet treats, but meals were always made by my parents, and then when I moved out, I lived on eggs, macaroni, bread, and cheese (and tea of course).<br />
<br />
During said post-parental-home-living, the husband and I have always lived together, except for a semester of dorm life in our early college years. We bought food separately, paid separate bills, and even slept in separate rooms for a good duration of the time. He lived on a likewise diet, but added several highly processed snack foods.<br />
<br />
Recently, since we've been married, regardless of the egalitarian feminist I am, I have assumed the role of cooking most meals. Breakfasts are separate, since we rise at different times most mornings. Lunches are also usually not eaten together, but at the end of the day, we are both craving bigger meals to eat together.<br />
<br />
My cooking confidence is slowly growing. I always observed my parents' cooking and done my own research on it, but most things I have made since the wedding have been a giant guessing game. I guess that I assumed an innate sense of how to cook would magically absorb into my brain once that marriage license was signed? No idea.<br />
<br />
I'll start to follow a recipe and stray. I think of something that sounds good and just make it. I'll go to the store hungry and buy half the store. Seriously, I am the poster child of needing to avoid getting groceries while hungry!<br />
<br />
All that said, last week I felt run-down. Flu and cold season is in full swing here in North Texas, as well as, constantly changing winds and weather. Mix this into a concoction of the husband and I working and going to school spells out a recipe for disaster.<br />
<br />
I had been around some sick people at work and in class, and after not sleeping well last Thursday night, I was doubly exhausted after work Friday night. While driving home, the thought of making macaroni and cheese (organic, but still) made me feel worse.<br />
<br />
I began pondering what would fill this void in my stomach, not to mention the void in my immune system. Chicken broth came to mind. Noodles. Vegetables. Garlic. Peppermint tea. I stopped at a grocer on my way home and purchased what I could. Organic, free range chicken broth, a yellow squash, celery, carrots, broccoli.<br />
<br />
I came home and set to peeling and slicing at my loot and boiling them in the broth. I made the noodles separately and dumped them int the concoction. After seasoning with some thyme, salt, pepper, and a hint of rosemary. It was finished. I ate a giant bowl of this soup and went to bed.<br />
<br />
When I woke up, my body felt rejuvenated. Granted, it wasn't delicious. Bland and wholesome it was, at best, but I was thankful for it. I had also caught up on some sleep, as I didn't have to be at work until early afternoon, so I let my body sleep in later than usual.<br />
<br />
My husband woke up with me that morning and I told him the story of the night before and warned him that it wasn't great, and that I would finish it, but to not feel obligated to eat it. When I returned home from work, I discovered that he'd eaten all of it.<br />
<br />
When questioned about it, he just shrugged his broad shoulders and laughed. "It tasted fine to me," he said with a smile.<br />
<br />
He then proceeded to ask me to make him chili soon. Chili? Ugh, the thought of heavy beef, tomatoes, and pinto beans came to mind, as well as an array of canned varieties. Not appetizing.<br />
<br />
"Really?" I asked, nearly offended.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, you know, something heavy and meaty."<br />
<br />
I admit, I've been cooking on the lighter side, because I'd grown comfortable with pastas and sauces, and breads. Meat? Not so much.<br />
<br />
"What about stew?" I rebutled.<br />
<br />
"What's stew?"<br />
<br />
"You know, meat and broth base, with carrots, potatoes, onions, celery, hearty stuff."<br />
<br />
"Yeah! Can you make that? I just want hearty!"<br />
<br />
With the chili situation avoided, I began pondering how I'd make this. I went to our natural foods grocer and waded through locally grown veggies and picked out other needs, all in an attempted to avoid the meat section until last. I have this thing with buying meat. Maybe because we always killed our own meat? I just hate buying it at the store.<br />
<br />
I'm also not a huge fan of beef. You can hand me the best cut of fillet minion in Texas and I'll choose a drumstick or venison back-strap over it. With this in mind, I browsed through the freezer, the expensive rump roast, sausage links, and the like, one of which I did choose (it was pork though).<br />
<br />
Finally, I came upon a section of paper-wrapped meat, which INSTANTLY made me feel at home, and as I began to decipher the labels, I realized it was locally raised, grass-fed buffalo meat! I was so excited!<br />
<br />
I love wild game. When I share with people that I'm a hunter, most look at me strangely because of my stature, and then ask if I eat it.<br />
<br />
My response is always, "I only kill what I'll eat or what's attacking me."<br />
<br />
They then share some terrible story of having eaten wild game once and hating the flavor. I don't understand this. I find gamy tang to be wonderful in many recipes. I became giddy at the sight and started digging through the wealth before me. I came across some buffalo neck soup bones. <i>Perfect.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
When I got home, organic beef broth, water and the bones went into my largest pot. I didn't really measure anything. I just kind of pour and hope it turns out when I make stuff like this (and don't forget to cut all of the fat possible off of gamy meat, because that can ruin it).<br />
<br />
After letting it simmer and bubble and boil for about three hours, I cut up all of the veggies and set them aside. A few cloves of garlic and some slices of white onion went into the pot. Then I began adding the veggies, hardiest to lightest with some simmer time in between.<br />
<br />
Some basil, salt, pepper, paprika, and oregano later, the soup was ready. I also added a little flour, but it didn't work as well as corn starch would have, as far as thickening goes.<br />
<br />
The husband was doubly happy about this soup and has asked for more like it. I feel as though I've defeated another fear. Making something without a guide, and it turning out well is always satisfying.<br />
<br />
Bring on the cold weather and long nights, this cowgirl's ready for new recipe experiments!</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-21027622805467887382011-09-18T23:14:00.001-05:002011-09-18T23:34:54.649-05:00Chocolate-Dipped Madeleines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, several exciting events have happened this week. I received my official membership packet into the <a href="http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/">Farmgirl Sisterhood</a>! Overwhelmed by excitement at opening the envelope and seeing my badge, I squealed, as I do when terribly excited, and ran to find my needle point hoop to stitch in the logo. Problem? I think I left that particular box at one of my parent's residences after the wedding.<br />
<br />
With all of the hullabaloo of planning the wedding in twelve days and packing up everything that would fit into our little apartment, somehow that box did not make the trip, yet one with a bunch of porcelain knick-knacks I could have done without, wormed its way into the moving truck. Regardless, I'll have to get one at an antique store or hobby store. I confess to trying to buy anything possible second-hand. Except shoes. Warts. Ewe.<br />
<br />
Speaking of wonderful antique stores (old soul over here, remember?), while browsing a recycled bookstore for Margret Atwood or the Bronte sisters, I stopped by an antique shop next door. I strolled up and down the tower aisles, giggling at army surplus, useless porcelain figures, and restraining myself against buying any more vintage teapots, I came across a stack of old sewing patterns.<br />
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I've been wanting to make a new dress, but as I do with recipes, rather than inventing something new, I'll take an already-existing, amazing thing and tweak it to my likes and specifications, in this case, alter the pattern. It's more fun experimenting that way anyway.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=il_570xN258492093.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/il_570xN258492093.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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I am SUPER excited about making one, I'd like to make all three types, traditional, long, and short, but am trying to decide between fabrics at this point. What are your thoughts on fabric choices? I'll keep you posted, as it will be a work in progress, since school and work take up much of my time.<br />
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Sewing and baking help me de-stress. I think possibly because it forces my attentions onto something immediate and meticulous, so my troubles shrink in my neglect and inattention. Plus making something and working with my hands, producing something, has always made me feel more worthwhile.<br />
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Aside from those precious tid-bits, as the title of this post suggests, I baked tonight!<br />
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There was an overabundance of ganache left in the fridge after the macaron frenzy last week. I would look at it every time the fridge would open and envision something, ANYTHING I could make, other than traditional cake or cupcakes, to employ the rest of the chocolaty goodness.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9181057.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9181057.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
It hit me yesterday. MADELEINES! I used this <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/french-butter-cakes-madeleines/detail.aspx">recipe</a> and added 2 tsp of organic lemon curd to the batter right after the sugar. I may try another one later, as this recipe is a little dense and they're supposed to be airy and fluffy. Me and airy desserts. I guess I misnamed this blog, it should have been <i>Ashley's Airy Dessert Time </i>or something to that affect.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9181061.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9181061.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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It turned out deliciously. I reheated the ganache in a jerry-rigged double boiler and added 2 tsp (or what ever size you think the little silver spoon is) of lemon curd to that as well. Once the madeleines had cooled enough, I began dipping there shell-sides in the chocolate liquid and subsequently laid them on parchment and placed them on a plate in the freezer to stiffen the ganache.<br />
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I sprinkled some with crystal sugar, because sparkles are always better, a few ended up a little over-board, but oh well. They're <i>puuurrty.</i><br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9181060.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9181060.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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I had some failures too. One of the madeleines was FAR too big and came out in pieces, sticking to the pan, but most turned out well. They're not supposed to be so crispy either, but my oven is temperamental. I'd kill for a wood-burning stove.<br />
<br />
Warning! The chocolate-dipped ones I recommend pairing with milk or coffee, as they are intensl sweet, and the others with only the sugar or just plain with tea.<br />
</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-73434988939309766022011-09-09T19:39:00.001-05:002011-09-09T19:52:12.762-05:00The Mixer has been Christened<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Remember that mixer about which I was SO excited when it finally arrived a few weeks ago? I went on and on my first few blogs, naming off things I would bake and the beauties which I would create. Yadah...that happened, right?<br />
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Fact is, at that point, I had no job, nor school to fill my time, I'd just gotten married and back from the trip of a lifetime and then all was suddenly still. I admit I may have come down with some apartment fever. Regardless, life happens, gets busy, and fun things get shifted to the back burner.<br />
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This week has been a bit stressful, so I thought I'd whisk away my troubles into a frothy, sweet matter with stiff peaks. Ironically, this morning, I woke up to an email alert from Ladurée informing me that the first Ladurée store has opened in the US, in New York, which is depressing, because I've never been to NYC, let alone go there often, so no Ladurée goodies for me.<br />
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Regardless, it rekindled my fervor to make my own sweet concoctions. French macarons have been on my to-do list since I returned to this half of the world and the gorgeous, less than 1000 degree weather prompted me to bake after class today.<br />
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Now, a few weeks ago, a friend and I attempted to make macarons. Problem? The recipe was British. Translation? The ingredients were in metric measurements. We attempted to make them anyway, but they were more of a solid meringue than an airy, chewy macaron, without the famously beautiful "feet" every baker tries to achieve.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=macaronsattempt1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/macaronsattempt1.jpg" /></a><br />
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Today, I found a <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/318387/french-macaroons">recipe</a> in standard measurements that seemed to make a decent amount of biscuits. (Concerning the word <i>biscuits,</i> I'd always thought of them as the traditional fluffy bread that accompanies gravy or jam in the morning-again, Southern country girl over here-until I lived with a French family. <i>Cookie</i> has wormed its way into the French language, but it's very specific, like a chocolate chip cookie. Other semi-sweet, dry yummies that are eaten with tea or coffee are called biscuits. It's the same in the UK and Australia, so even when my host mother and I would speak English, this word bled over the language barrier and I've picked it up.)<br />
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Now, I followed the directions as closely as possible. On my college student budget (or perhaps out of sheer laziness) I haven't purchased a sifter. My sifting method consisted of me stirring the confectioners' sugar and almond flour together with a traditional spoon and then taking a little bitty sifter/colander thing that came in a wedding gift, and smooshing the dry mixture through the bottom. <i>Smooshing,</i> that's technical baking terminology, right?<br />
<br />
Continuing, I broke in the mixer with the egg whites and cream of tater, but then whisked until my arms gave out to achieve the perfect <i>stiff peaks.</i> May I just say that my left arm is completely and utterly uncoordinated? It didn't help the mixture much, and as Husband watched from the dining room table, giggling at my attempt, I was arching my body and contorting my back trying to figure out how to work my useless arm.<br />
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He offered to help, which I resisted at first. <i>I'm am GOING to do this myself.</i> Then the burning in my arm continued and began shaking weakly. <i>Man! Fine. "Yes honey, thank you." </i>Stupid T-Rex arms.<br />
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Muscles over there went to town and after a few minutes, they were nearly ready. After stealing the bowl back and whisking just a bit more, to make myself feel less insignificant, I continued the recipe. In addition to the original directions, I added a few sprays of rosewater and two drops of pink food coloring. After meticulously placing the first sheet in the oven, I set to work on making <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/343907/chocolate-ganache">ganache. </a><br />
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After mixing away, I peeked into the oven and squealed when I saw big, beautiful, fluffy, FEET! My other macarons had no feet, they actually didn't change shape at all despite my avail. I slammed the oven door in my excitement, ran to the living room and retrieved my camera.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9091041.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9091041.jpg" /></a><br />
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This made up for the fact that I'd ruined a few of the setting batter rounds on the other baking sheet, due to grabbing it with my oven mit on accident. I have had NO formal training whatsoever in the cooking/baking arts. Everything you will read on this blog, I have figured out as I went along, read out of a book, or off of a website, so fun mishaps are <b>always</b> bound to happen.<a href="http://temporarytexantransplant.blogspot.com/2011/04/its-always-adventure.html"> It's always an adventure!</a><br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9091053.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9091053.jpg" /></a><br />
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I placed the ganache in the fridge at this point in order to stiffen it a bit, as it was too hot and runny to put on the brittle biscuits, but after everything was all cooled and hardened, I set to work, putting together the masterpieces.<br />
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This is a milestone in baking for me. I have been so afraid to try these, because everyone tells me they're SO difficult to make, or writes that if you don't do ONE step correctly, they'll turn into fire-spitting ants or taste like mud.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9091045.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9091045.jpg" /></a><br />
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My tip to you is to resist the intimidation and approach every recipe the same, with a creative mood and childhood excitement.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-31015792127290048962011-09-03T23:23:00.000-05:002011-09-03T23:23:29.051-05:00My Nemesis has been Defeated!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yes, my nemesis. I have enemies. Enemies in the form of crispy on the outside, doughy and fluffy on the inside, wonderfully airy goodness that is the French Baguette.<br />
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Funny story.<br />
<br />
I have always been an avid baker. Three tier cakes? No problem. Fondant covered cupcakes? Piece of cake (no pun intended). French macaroons? Maybe a little on the meringue-y side, but still tantalizing. Bread? Serious issues. Every time I've tried to make bread, it ends up being too dense, too sweet, too doughy, just straight tastes like matted flour, or has overly-activated yeast. Regardless of the pains I've taken to ensure these things don't happen, they do.<br />
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I still try and try and in turn, fail and fail, but not THIS time!<br />
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Wait. I'm not communicating this to you correctly. Perhaps if I explain my last mishap.<br />
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It was before I'd left for France, and I wanted desperately to make baguette before I embarked on my journey. I'd also had a burning desire to try out a baguette recipe Shad's mother gave me around Thanksgiving last year. Well, it was more like I stalked her in the kitchen and wrote down her every move.<br />
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Now, you must understand, my mother-in-law is a Sage. She can just <i>make </i>things happen, like unforgettable bread or raising eight children. She's Wonder Woman without the annoying headband. Basically, she just waved her wooden spoon around, kneaded some magical dough and Voila! Bread that was smelled by everyone in a 5 mile radius and was in turn, devoured in under 15 minutes.<br />
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I tried the recipe I had written down, and my wonder of her grew further, as mine did NOT turn out like hers. It was a horrid, gooey mess that refused to stiffen, regardless of the immense amounts of flour I'd added. Finally, I turned to my then-roommate and decided to just plop the hideous blob on the baking sheet to see what happened.<br />
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It was dense. A baguette is supposed to be airy, and fluffy inside, heavy and crunchy outside. This was not the case. It was a slightly sweet brick that tasted more like hardened flour than anything else. We threw it away, and I hung up my apron strings on bread for a while.<br />
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Which brings me to today. I woke up to the first full day I've had off of...life. Aside from my husband and dog to feed, I had no obligations of any kind. I confess to be a masochistic workaholic at this point in my life. Three places of employment and full-time student. Bah.<br />
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In honor of this day, I decided that I needed to bake something. I had found a decent recipe, that did not call for a bread machine or mixer of any kind a few months ago. Legit, handmade bread. The disastrous results of my previous attempts and subsequently wounded ego had left me feeling skittish about trying to make an edible, cereal based fluff ball.<br />
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I felt gumption today, though, and tried my hand at it. I measured carefully and followed the directions to a T, praying that it would work. Granted, including all of the rising time, this particular <a href="http://www.famousfrenchdesserts.com/french-bread-baguette-recipes.html">recipe </a>takes about 5 hours to make. It better had been good!<br />
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I was terrified that I'd ruined it right at the beginning, as I'd put the yeast mixture in too small a bowl, and ended up transferring it into a larger one. This is almost the same way that I'd over-activated the yeast last time, but I pressed on, setting it to rise and bubble.<br />
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Adding the rest of the flour mixture, my hands and fingers became covered in the beer-like smelling goo, as I kneaded and kneaded. It was still fairly sticky when I oiled the bowl and heaped the mass into it. Setting the dishcloth over it, the hour passed by quickly, as I had a friend visiting, and we kneaded it once more and laid the three twists on the baking sheet.<br />
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We rigged a tent-like towel structure over the pan to prevent any dive-bombing flies or gnats from tainting the perfection that was the dough thus far. With that, we went grocery shopping and ended up letting the three rise for closer to an hour than 20 minutes. Again, I was terrified that I'd ruin the batch and humiliate myself, yet again.<br />
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However, they looked uneven and beautiful when we returned, so I quickly heated the oven and brushed the three with olive oil. Popping the pan in the oven, I filled a bowl with water to provide the moisture. Problem. They wouldn't fit together, I finally shifted the dishes around to make them fit enough for the oven door to shut. The entire first 15 minutes consisted of me pacing and pleading to the Kitchen Goddess to protect my oven and keep the glass bowl from exploding.<br />
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The time came to remove the bowl and decide what to make for dinner to accompany the bread, should it turn out well. After wrestling over a decision between pastas, I decided against both, as that would be a LOT of starch all at once.<br />
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I decided to just cut up a heap of fresh vegetables I'd had in the fridge and had just bought at the store and serve them up in pesto olive oil. I set to work, flavoring the oil with fresh garlic cloves, heaping the half-wilted spinach leaves into the oil with half a spoonful of my homemade pesto.<br />
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A green bell pepper and three medium sized tomatoes with dashes of sea salt, black pepper, oregano, and cucumber slices finished the dish. I poured the concoction in a bowl and pulled the bread out of the oven. It smelled divine, though wasn't much to regard.<br />
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"Listen," my friend said tapping the top of one of the baguettes with her fingernail. My heart soared as it sounded nearly hollow. Perfect.<br />
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Mouths watering, we all sat around the display. I fetched the beautiful new bottle of Balsamic vinegar, without which I could absolutely not live and a spoon for the veggie concoction. I'm not sure what to call it. Vegetarian's Delight? Italian Hodge-Podge? Wanna Be Bruschetta?<br />
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We began heaping the topping in our bowls and breaking the bread. Moment of truth. I soaked a large piece in the oil, without any vegetable topping, as I wanted the bread's taste to be clear. It was delicious. Simply put. Delicious.<br />
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I've been on the hunt for good baguette since my return, and I've concluded that I'll just have to do it myself. We ate greedily and afterward, I sat back to digest my triumph.<br />
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I've conquered bread. It will never humiliate me again. Muahaha! </div><br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P9031038.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P9031038.jpg" /></a><br />
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Recipe for Vegetarian's Delight or Italian Hodge-Podge:<br />
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<b>You need:</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
3 medium sized tomatoes<br />
1/2-1 cup of olive oil (depends on whether you want more of a focus on the oil or the vegetables)<br />
1/2 tsp. oregano<br />
2 cloves of garlic<br />
1 tbsp. pesto<br />
1/2 tsp. salt<br />
pinch of pepper<br />
1/2-1 cucumber<br />
1 green bell pepper<br />
3 cups fresh spinach leaves<br />
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1.) In a medium skillet, heat the olive oil on medium high. Peel and whack the garlic cloves and brown them in the oil.<br />
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2.) Wilt spinach leaves in the oil, reduce heat to medium or medium low and add the pesto. Be careful, as the water in the leaves will cause them to pop and spit in the oil.<br />
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3.) Dice and slice the rest of the vegetables and place them in the pan. (I like to do tomatoes last, as they retain their shape better when cooked over a shorter period of time.)<br />
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4.) Use tongs or a spatula to rotate the mixture.<br />
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5.) Sprinkle the remaining seasonings over the mixture and continue mixing and rotating.<br />
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6.) When all looks cooked, remove from heat, and either serve immediately with fresh baguette and optional balsamic vinegar or cover and place in fridge for a tasty cold salad dish.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-45601719769579103352011-08-27T15:54:00.000-05:002011-08-27T15:54:08.505-05:00(Less) Guilty Snacks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I detest that as a society, we relate guilt, romance, sex, and pleasure to food. Pleasure? Understandable, but the others? Come on!<br />
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I admit, I feel guilty after eating fried chicken, cake heaped with buttercream or highly-processed snacks. I remind myself that I have to run X amount on top of my normal workouts to burn this off, or think of that next big blemish that will push itself from my face, or think of the mushroom-like bulge above my jeans.<br />
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I feel guilt. I don't like this fact nor think it's fair that we women have this connotation with foods. Regardless of whether I like it or not, I still feel it.<br />
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In an effort to better mine and my husband's diets (he is a health nut too), I've been thinking of easy yummy snacks to replace ice cream and candy. I confess that I do keep a bar of 72% cacao chocolate in our freezer. I've found (in France, actually) that when I crave chocolate, I don't consume as much if I buy the darker chocolate.<br />
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I like it more too. I'm not sure why, as super-tasters are known for not liking bitter things, but it's much more satisfying than milk chocolate. Milk chocolate is actually too sweet for me now, as it has more sugar than any dark chocolate that I know.<br />
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Anyway, one such easy snack is to take some French baguette bread or whole wheat slices, spread a thin layer of butter or olive oil over the bread, cut up a banana and place the slices on top of the bread, then drizzle a bit of local honey over the whole thing; toast it, and Yum City!<br />
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I don't feel AS guilty about this sweet snack.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-47383794007986860842011-08-27T13:08:00.001-05:002011-08-27T15:36:51.284-05:00Pretty Porcelain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am NOT a morning gal. I'm THAT person who is unreasonably and inherently angry in the morning. My body morphs into a green ogre and throws things or rudely ignores anyone around it. Seriously, I've swung at friends, my sister, AND my mother, just because they woke me up.<br />
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Most people don't believe me when I tell them this. "Oh Ashley, stop exaggerating! You're so prissy and nice, how could you ever do that?"<br />
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Oh believe me, I DO do that, and I have actively TRIED to improve myself and outlook on life first thing in the morning. My husband is a morning person, he can spring forth from our bed, run to the kitchen to make breakfast, and prance and bounce along getting ready, just feeling happy to be alive.<br />
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[Insert: jealous grimacing face here]<br />
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I wish I could do that, and I've tried! Problem? I'm doomed from the beginning. I'll attempt to spring forth from my slumbers and warm quilts, like a parading bunny, but then trip, or run into things, or can't move some of my limbs (I truly believe that I have mild sleep paralysis or the issue could be due to extremely low blood pressure).<br />
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Regardless, I have issues before I even rise. I've tried lying in bed, to wake up a bit. This usually works if I am well rested and wake up on my own accord, though if my alarm clock wakes me up with the rattling sound of Big Ben reverberating in my ears, I'm more inclined to fall back to sleep.<br />
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Like I said, <b>issues</b>.<br />
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My temper also tends to be shorter before I walk out the door to whichever destination I'm marching. My husband has learned to not ask me questions that are not ABSOLUTELY necessary or talk to me in general, unless it's "how many eggs do you want?" I don't mind answering that one.<br />
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SO, the wrestling with myself continues, and eventually I wake up, my blood is pumping, and I am ready to start the day about two hours after my initial awakening.<br />
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One thing that helps me though is tea. I. Love. Tea.<br />
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Not just black, but green, white, ginseng, and a variety of herbals. Honestly, my pantry became so over-ridden with tea boxes, that they've had to spill over to my cabinets and cute boxes in which I'm supposed to keep things like writing tools or baking ingredients. Nope, Ashley has tea in every nook and cranny available. I like variety, I can't help it!<br />
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Having tea while running out the door is such a shame, but it helps me at least wake up. Not so much the caffeine, I don't think. It's something about the smooth warmth and underlying bitter tastes.<br />
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As you can image, running out the door with a spilling, reusable tea mug is depressing, when said person carrying said spilling tea mug fantasizes and romanticizes about Victorian and Edwardian tea times. The frilly, flowy dresses, many a time sans corset, to accommodate all of the lovely treats and flowing teas.<br />
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My small, truly close group of girlfriends and I have each other over for tea every chance we get. We get a text and breakout all of our best porcelain and throw together small snacks. Often, before strenuous exercise sessions, I'll serve French press espresso, as the shot of caffeine helps the body perform better and longer.<br />
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Going to a cute or fancy tea room is my idea of how to spend a Saturday afternoon, as opposed to getting ready to go clubbing. I have an old soul, what can I say?<br />
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In fact, my soul has always been old. Once a year, when I was young, my grandmother's church always hosted a <i>Ladies Tea</i> in early May. I remember helping her plan out our table, as she has collection after collection of beautiful tea sets and cups.<br />
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I couldn't sleep the whole week before the tea, I was so excited. When the day came, you'd think it were Christmas! These two instances are the only times I can remember <i>springing forth </i>from my bed. I honestly don't think I fully sleep when I'm nervous or excited about something the next day, because most of the day I end up feeling giddy and happy-tired-drunk, then the crash hits later.<br />
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Anyway, so I would get dressed in the spring-y-est dress I could find, or branch out and break the rules with white capris and a matching yellow top with bumblebees on them, and wait at the door like a puppy waiting to go for a ride in the car.<br />
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My mother would finally emerge from her powdering and we'd be on our way. I always felt like a grown-up. There were so many elegantly dressed ladies, caddies and trays and tins of tea with sugar cubes and creams of all sorts on every table. AND THE FOOD!<br />
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As an advocate for beautiful desserts, you can imagine my fervor, running to and fro, not sure which to try first. Then we would sit and listen to a testimony or scripture or a charity project and someone would sing or do a skit. It was so much fun.<br />
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Nowadays, my ladies and I attempt to recreate these girlish adventures we all had at one point or another, as the nostalgia and prettiness of a simple tea cup is enough to lift the spirits of in-some-way-floundering early twenty-something-year-olds.<br />
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My point, is that on mornings like this one, when I've awoken to a husband who has already left for work, and there is a lack of homework for me to do, I make myself tea with pretty porcelain. It is enough to snap me out of my ogreish mood and ready me for a night shift at my own place of employment.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P8271035.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P8271035.jpg" /></a><br />
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There is just something about miss-matched porcelain that makes me smile. The teapot is Japanese and the cup is French, given to me by my grandmother, and the sugar and creamer are from a Target line, that my dad bought for me over Christmas. These pieces make me think of them too, which also doesn't help the nostalgic feeling dissipate.<br />
<br />
I live my life in extremes I think, to stay in balance. I am a Libra, after all. I have childhood memories like these which fill me with warm giddy and I also have memories of skinning deer and playing in mud-holes that fill me with the same warmth.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=l_0282a239231e9ce33e71f012b1c0f58f.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/l_0282a239231e9ce33e71f012b1c0f58f.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Country girl to the core, I guess.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=l_5dc15678ede22fb1a1c92e8e13246d78.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/l_5dc15678ede22fb1a1c92e8e13246d78.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
</div><br />
Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-39955254316339239272011-08-26T23:48:00.000-05:002011-08-26T23:48:52.317-05:00I Lied...Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am so deeply, terribly sorry, but alas, I STILL have not had the time, nor energy to conjure a sweet and tantalizing dessert about which to write. I lied again. Oops. In my defense, I worked 50 hours last week and began classes this week. (Last first day of undergrad! WOOT!)<br />
<br />
As deeply distraught as you may imagine I am feeling, I do have some updates on product results. I was SO excited about the <a href="http://www.coastalclassiccreations.com/">Coastal Classic Creations </a>make-up and skin-care products that arrived on my doorstep during my last post, and rightly so!<br />
<br />
I am in LOVE with this company. The exfoliating brush, Epic Waves Acne bar and facial oil have cleared my face so gently. The redness, (that I never recognized as being a problem, just how my skin looked) that I am assuming spawned from years of harsh-chemical treatments like, salicylic acid, has also dissipated.<br />
<br />
My skin is soft, smells like frankincense, eucalyptus and rosemary, and is less oily than it has been since I first began to get break-outs at the tender age of 13. Oily skin is ruthless on both sides of my family. Upside? We all look far younger than we are. Downside? Chronic acne into our grand-motherhood.<br />
<br />
These products have done what I had deemed impossible, which is to even my skin tone and neutralize the...I'm not sure what... pH level? No, more like <i>grease level</i>.<br />
<br />
Also, the make-up is fabulous. It is sheer and completely mineral based, so it takes much <i>building</i> to create the "built coverage" advertised on their website. Granted, I was a fan of all of the products, with the exception of the concealer and foundation powder, but reading the other reviews, I ordered sample sizes of the "base" concealer and foundation. These made ALL of the difference.<br />
<br />
It creates a very matte finish and absorbs a lot more oil than expected throughout the day. It is soft and breathable as well. I'm still coming to terms with less coverage than my go-to brand of liquid foundation, wax concealer and loose powder, but it feels SO much better on my skin and I know that it will keep me healthier.<br />
<br />
I am NOT being paid by this company for advertising, nor am I affiliated with them in any way, except as an extremely satisfied customer, so...just wanted to throw that disclaimer out there.<br />
<br />
Overall? I doubt I'll use any other cosmetic company. Ever. I'm praying they don't go out of business, but I'm not sure how that would be possible with the quality of their products.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY, another product that I absolutely LOVE: Alta Dena's Goat Milk Cheese. I will say this once: I LOVE GOAT'S CHEESE. Since my first taste of it, I've always loved it. As in, when Husband and I are finally able to horse-trade for our little patch of green, the first animals we are going to raise will be chickens and goats. That is how much we love eggs, chicken, and goat cheese. Little perspective.<br />
<br />
My problem, though, is that buying it in the tradition fresh form is a PAIN to spread and a PAIN to keep nicely in the fridge. (Technically it should be left out and allowed to mold, as it increases the flavor, like any cheese, but people look at you funny in the US if you do that, plus chemicals are added to the cheese to prevent this, which makes it taste like crap and fall apart.)<br />
<br />
Regardless, I love it and recently, while at my local natural foods store, I saw a goat cheese that was shaped and packaged like Monterey Jack or cheddar, but goat cheese? My brain was temporarily confused and intrigued, therefore I bought it. Impulse.<br />
<br />
I was skeptical just before my first bite, but then absolutely loved it! It is cultured and aged like cheddar and other hard cheeses, but is subtle and oh so eatable! Yes, I used <i>eatable</i> AND improper ellipses all in one post. Shame on me.<br />
<br />
So this is my little product review session, if I were a critic of any kind. Oh, and if you like pretty, French cottage-y, vintage-ish, things go <a href="http://www.makeminepink.com/default.aspx">here</a>. I like it.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-44598379219810484772011-08-15T23:26:00.000-05:002011-08-15T23:26:28.406-05:00My Kitchen Smells Like Basil<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, my kitchen smelled like basil at about 2:00 pm today. Now it smells like vinegar, basil, and black-eyed peas. This is not the dessert post promised, but I have volunteered to make a dessert for a dinner party Friday night, so it will be documented this week.<br />
<br />
I woke up this morning with the notion that I needed to clean. (Actually, I'd been telling Husband that I would clean Saturday, but I had an ovarian cyst rupture that night, therefore, yesterday was spent mostly in bed or at the computer.) Today though, I was energized to clean, but first, I had a project to do that had been irking me.<br />
<br />
When I went grocery shopping, I bought a bag of organic, fresh basil leaves, and decided that I would use them for cooking and make pesto with the rest. It had been sitting in the fridge for a few days, and the desire for it NOT to go bad was strong. I have a habit of buying fresh things sometimes, forgetting about them, and then woe-is-me when I find them shriveled in a vegetable drawer or liquefied in a produce bag.<br />
<br />
This was NOT going to happen. Basil is my favorite savory herb. Well, rosemary too. It's so hard to choose just one! Regardless, after a bowl of strawberries and some turbinado sugar, I set to work, while waiting for my friend to arrive so that we could work out.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P8151026.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P8151026.jpg" /></a><br />
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I rinsed nearly the entire bag of leaves, without stems, in my salad spinner to rinse off the dirt and anything else lurking between the leaves, stuffed them into the blending cup that came with my stick blender (a.k.a. <i>the magic stick</i>) and began adding the olive oil.<br />
<br />
I partially peeled the two garlic cloves. By the way, little trick taught to me by my friend, turn the clove sideways on a cutting board, lay your chef's knife broadly over the clove (sharp end away from you!) and smash the clove with a good whack! It cracks it open, releasing oils and making it oh so much easier to peel.<br />
<br />
After plopping the peeled cloves into the mix, I grated a good amount of fresh Parmesan cheese and added the two tablespoons. All that was left was the nuts and the blending. The recipe I used, calls for 1/2 cup of pine nuts or pecans, but I just sprinkled a few walnuts in there after I'd started blending.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P8151029.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P8151029.jpg" /></a><br />
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It took a while, but I finally had a leafy goo that reeked of fresh herbs and poured the lot into a recycled jam jar. It was quite exciting. About that time, my friend showed and I made us some espresso and we hit the gym.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P8151030.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P8151030.jpg" /></a><br />
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After checking the mail, I was ELATED to find a USPS parcel sitting in our mail box. It is a heap of organic make-up trials and a facial soap from <a href="http://www.coastalclassiccreations.com/">Coast Classic Creations</a>, which I found on the <a href="http://www.ewg.org/skindeep/">Skin Deep</a> website. SO excited! So far, I have tried the bar and oil. I love the feel of them, also their exfoliating brush. The make-up is wonderful, except one must use a high amount of the concealer and foundation to cover blemishes, but I expect that from any loose, mineral-powder make-up. It is very light and comfortable. I will keep y'all updated with the soap when it comes to my blemish-prone, extremely oily skin.<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=P8151033.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/P8151033.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Upon returning, I saw a few roaches lurking near our trashcan and something snapped. I was pissed. We've had issues with these infernal roaches since we moved into this apartment. We've called pest control, but after so many fumigations, and especially after all of the research I've been doing, my goodness, we aren't calling them again. <br />
<br />
I took matters into my own hands in buying roach and ant traps, throwing them everywhere in the kitchen. This did not help, and trying to dissuade my dog's curiosity of them was growing annoying. I had had it!<br />
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I grabbed the one bottle of harsh chemical cleaning product we have left in the house and just started spraying every one I saw, laughing evilly and yelling, "DIE! DIE! DIE! I KILL YOU NOW! SUFFER AND DIE!"<br />
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My husband came running into the kitchen to see the commotion and busted out laughing at the spectacle. I realized that there were cracks all in our pantry floor. The boards look like they could be removed for cleaning underneath at some point, but they've been cemented in place by the numerous paint jobs the complex performs after every tenant.<br />
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I think there is a nest under there, so I went to spraying all of the cracks, and I am crossing my fingers that I don't see any more. After a fight with the vacuum cleaner and some counter wiping, I decided that the bag of dried black-eyed peas in our pantry needed to be use.<br />
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I bought this particular bag probably two years ago (gross, right?), with the intention of making hummus with it. I'm not a huge fan of chick peas, so for this Southern girl, the popular bean was a good substitute in my mind.<br />
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Finally finding tahini (sesame seed butter), the adventure was bound to happen. I soaked them and cooked them, only realizing when they were finished that the whole bag was probably a bad idea. I had to double the <a href="http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/black-eyed-pea-hummus-10000000222271/">base recipe</a> and still had about a cup and a half left over.<br />
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I never tend to follow recipes closely, unless I am baking, but even then, I tend to stray to accommodate my tastes or replace an ingredient I don't have. In this case, I was short about three lemons. I added some extra salt, a few tablespoons of olive oil and a few fresh basil leaves with a dash of Italian seasoning, which is a hodge-podge of oregano, sage, rosemary, and marjoram.<br />
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After taking my magic stick to it, it turned out several, delicious cups of hummus. I will definitely make this again, but try to get a few more lemons and much less peas next time.<br />
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<u>Pesto Recipe</u><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
2 cloves peeled garlic<br />
3ish cups of tightly packed basil leaves<br />
2 tbs. olive oil<br />
2 tbs. grated Parmesan<br />
1/2 cup pecans or pine nuts (I used a few sprinkles of chopped walnuts)<br />
<br />
Process everything except for the nuts in a food processor or blender and then add the nuts when everything else is fairly mixed. Refrigerate after placing it in the jar.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-66550281966510341962011-08-13T20:38:00.001-05:002011-08-13T20:47:40.059-05:00Brown Paper Packages<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"<i>Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown, paper packages, tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things."</i><br />
-Julie Andrews in<i> The Sound of Music</i><br />
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Mixer is in!!! I saw the large, brown parcel sitting flush at my doorstep Thursday, as I came home from the grocery store, and despite the two heavy brown bags of groceries in my arms, I literally leaped into the air and skipped steps on the staircase leading to my apartment door.<br />
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After heaving it open, I placed my cold groceries in the fridge, and alas, I had to leave everything else sitting in heaps on our living room furniture, as I had learnt that day, that my new job would NOT be starting Tuesday, it would start Friday, as in the NEXT day. This presented a problem, as the amount of my business casual attire was much smaller than I had realized, and I was not in possession of <i>nice</i> shoes that are comfortable. Shopping had to continue.<br />
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I went to <a href="http://www.dsw.com/">DSW</a> and found two pairs of these such shoes, plus a cute little pink number that mimicked my wedding shoes, but flattened versions (they were on sale anyway). I then, impulsively ran into Macy's, as the mall was set to close in 7 minutes. I grabbed a few business-y things off of the sale rack and high-tailed into the dressing room.<br />
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Tearing at the clothes, I bought four and returned home. I was an absolute mess. Night-shift had ruled my life this week before Thursday and the weekend before that, too. My brain was not working properly, not to mention, I was terrified about beginning my new job. It wouldn't consist of wiping noses, changing diapers, or rolling out of bed sans make-up any longer.<br />
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It is my first, high-brow, neck-tie, pencil skirt position, and I was so excited and nervous. Of course, I am better today, still completely intimidated, but better than I was Thursday night. I always view my current job as being the interview to my next one. It keeps me in line and on my toes, at least.<br />
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Anyway, so I came back from emergency-impulse-shopping and looked over one of my 60 new employee manuals. While sitting there, tea in hand, the box was calling to be opened, so after FORCING myself to finish reading, I pulled out my pocket knife and cut the tape. I am a very meticulous unpack-er when it comes to gifts, things I've ordered, and mail. It's a little compulsive. Seriously.<br />
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I unwrapped everything, growing giddy, and pulled it out. It isn't my <i>dream mixer, </i>but it will suffice for now. I put it on the counter, frowning at my smidgen-to-zero counter space, but was content in knowing that it finally arrived.<br />
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Yesterday, I wanted to come home and make rose petal French macarons. First thing. Why? See this blog: <a href="http://temporarytexantransplant.blogspot.com/2011/05/rose-petal-macarons-equal-life.html">Rose Petal Macarons Equal Life</a><br />
Problem? Husband calls me, explaining that he is at our neighbors' house and we are going out to eat with them, and a high school friend of ours, as he just moved to the area, is coming along also. Sad day, but nice to visit with them.<br />
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After returning from dinner, I was utterly wiped out. Needless to say, Husband and I crashed shortly after returning and I was back at work early this morning. I was considerably less lost, but let me just say that it is stressful, regardless, because of the value of the merchandise I handle.<br />
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While I was waiting for the mixer to arrive, I waded through much of the useless information and utter nonsense on the internet and have found some interesting details. It began when I stumbled upon True Blood's Kristin Bauer Van Straten's<a href="http://www.kristinbauer.com/Kristin/Welcome.html"> website</a>. Side note: True Blood is my favorite show. It gives a modern look at political and social perspectives in a cynically, satirical way, with eye-candy, amazing actors, AND it's disguised as dirty, dirty, Southern smut. Seriously. Guilty pleasure. End side note.Kristin's character is probably my favorite, if I had to choose, which brings me to my point. I saw her in an interview once, and she's so sweet and grounded, I couldn't believe that her personality was so different from her character's.<br />
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After reading some of her stuff, I noticed that she is a major activist for animals and natural products. I followed her sagely advice to be a responsible consumer and research how my everyday products get to the stores I frequent. Don't worry, this won't become a diatribe, but the enlightenment was terrifying.<br />
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I immediately began researching locally grown food stores and farmer's markets. I've always been health conscious, on account of having extreme hypoglycemia, as a child, and moderate hypoglycemia as an adult, but environmentally conscious? Not so much. My dad works in an oil refinery on the coast and my mom was a domestic goddess for many years, until finding a position in a company that is a client for many oil companies, therefore, I didn't have much exposure to "hippie talk" that my dad once termed it.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I haven't completely bought into global warming. I encourage anyone to take geology classes before doing so, but I do know that landfills are disgusting, I hate wasting things, I can't run on a city street, because of all of the vehicle exhaust, and I can taste pesticides. Seriously, super taster over here.<br />
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While scouring the internet for more information and reading the labels of things that I eat everyday and put on my face and body everday, the cringing feeling never ceased. My mom, then sent me a website, on a whim, called <a href="http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/">MaryJanesFarm</a>. It's wonderful. I am such a country girl. I hunt, grow, feel the freest and happiest in the great outdoors, without cell service or highway noise.<br />
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They have a forum with so many tips and recipes, I mean, the owner is an organic farmer herself. I just started laughing and was like, "Okay God. I got it. Thanks." In whichever deity you believe, I'm sure all of you have had these moments like, push-nudge-wink-cough-cough hints all in a row. That happened.<br />
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I then began thinking about my time in France. They are EVER so green over there. I loved it. I got used to it. It is a natural, normal part of life. I got used to <a href="http://www.arborday.org/treeguide/treeDetail.cfm?id=152">soap berries</a> washing my clothes, essential oils for deodorant, and fresh food markets ever few days. It is a given there. Fast food places and people who eat at them are severely scrutinized. Customers don't get plastic bags at the grocery store unless they buy them, hence reusable bags. People who can, take the tram and bus to work and school. It is just EASY.<br />
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Thinking about it more and more, I realized, I <i>have </i>changed habits. France's influence rubbed off on me. I take reusable sacks to the store, I convinced my husband that it would be cheaper and better to buy a drying rack and soap berries for our laundry, I've begun to phase out my 'traditional' soaps and cleaners to bleach/ammonia free, <a href="http://www.seventhgeneration.com/">Seventh Generation</a> cleaning products, and I've been shopping more and more at the organic health food store close to the university.<br />
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Wow. That's different. I'm different. I guess this post is more about reflection than baking or creating something pretty to display to the world. I didn't mean for that to happen, but I guess these new habits are a part of <i>my French religion.</i> The food isn't the only thing that pulls at my heartstrings when I think about the hexagonal country.<br />
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On that note, I found rosewater at the health food store, so hopefully, the next post will feature something I create with that. Sorry for this rant, it wasn't meant to be one.</div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2121737693416427382.post-964495939462734172011-08-05T23:08:00.007-05:002011-08-06T23:19:17.152-05:00A Sinful Treat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Bonjour, je m'appelle Ashley!</i></span></div><br />
<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=Bridals_040.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/Bridals_040.jpg" /></a><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sweet things make me smile and not-a-little-bit giddy.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i><br />
I've always found comfort in sugar and vigorous whisking, pearlized details, and antique tea cups. Lace fans, old books, and a pantry full of tea describe my personal pinnacle of sweet things. I've spent a few months in France recently, and have returned to Texas, hence my other <a href="http://www.temporarytexantransplant.blogspot.com/">blog</a>.<br />
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While abroad, I learned just how much I love pastries and food in general, however, the flavor was not the only attraction. Presentation is everything. Eating something that was as delicious, as it was beautiful, hooked my attention. I resorted to taking photographs of so many dishes and tea trays, that I could post about them alone.<br />
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The prettiness of food is a rare gem to find in the US. I found myself so taken with the display, most of the time, I felt hesitant to plunge my fork or teeth into anything, on account of my eyes having not properly feasted upon the sight before them. (Yes, I am addicted to wedding cake shows and other blogs that have the interest of making food gorgeous and taste-bud-tantalizing.)<br />
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When I first began college, I worked on the set of the television show <i>Friday Night Lights</i>. I was a cheerleader and worked long nights, a few random days, and peddled away at auditions. Between these bouts of attempted stardom, I baked to pass the time.<br />
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Tiered cakes, with hand-beaten butter cream, and perfectly textured fondant constantly graced the counters and refrigerator of my friend's mom's residence, where I was living. I grew frustrated with the constant waste, as the cakes were always so large.<br />
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I then decided to attempt petit fours, as in my head, they are adorable pastel wonders with pastel or chocolate coating and flowers on top. Wrong.<br />
<br />
Mine ended up falling to pieces and looking like the regurgitated mess of a drunken fairy. Chocolate hardened unevenly, the cake was too soft for the weight of the chocolate, and the filling oozed from between the layers, as soon as they began to defrost. Like I said: mess.<br />
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They were oh so delicious, but were horrendously ugly. After that fiasco, I spent the next few years in student housing and my baking halted. The decorations that were attempted, did produce lovely snacks and smile-inducing joy, but they were always so large, much of them would go to waste. As you can imagine, I've been pondering a solution to my need to make pretty things that taste like Disney-fied fairy wings or something out of Pinkie Pie's kitchen. (Yes, I am bronie.)<br />
<br />
Well, yesterday, while reminiscing about France and browsing the <a href="http://www.laduree.fr/">Ladurée</a> website, I had an epiphany.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>La Religieuse!</i></span><br />
<br />
While the US is in the midst of a French macaron-craze, I must say that I would choose the former between the two. The French macaron IS perfection, of course, but there is only so much one can do with the beautifully portable, petit sandwich.<br />
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I've decided to teach myself how to create a religieuse to my liking and improve upon it in any way possible, with no formal, background training. This will be my kitchen log. My Klog? Hmmm.<br />
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If you don't know what a religieuse looks like, here:<br />
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<a href="http://s588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/?action=view&current=photo-26.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i588.photobucket.com/albums/ss328/amm0406/photo-26.jpg" /></a><br />
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It is a large puff pastry filled with a creme or custard of some sort (the common fillings are coffee and chocolate flavored cremes) covered in icing or poured fondant, and assembled with a smaller puff pastry on top. It is meant to resemble a nun, hence the name. Funny, I find them sinfully yummy.<br />
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In the photo, the light <i>happened </i>to create a pin-spot aura around the puffed perfection, and believe it or not, this was not the prettiest one I ate in France.<br />
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With this new endeavor in mind, I set about to find the perfect recipe. Problem? I am not currently in possession of a stand mixer.<br />
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After scouring the internet for a device that should prove sufficiently useful for my cause, but not decimate my tiny, college-student budget, one was found and ordered. You may wonder how I have baked before now without an electric mixer. Two words: muscular husband.<br />
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...and so, similar to many spiritual religions, I plan to be devout in practicing the craft, stay true to myself and my beliefs, and probably spend at least one day a week devoted to this assignment.<br />
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God help me.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div>Ashley @ Darling Cottage Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04464993162013887857noreply@blogger.com1