A Morning on the Farm and Blueberry Lavender Muffins

My hard drive crashed last Saturday, and it took with it, into the Great Digital Abyss, all my photos for my upcoming posts.  Had I backed up my files?  Who needs to do that, right?  So bear with me while I re-cook and re-photograph everything once again.  On the plus side, this gives me a chance to retest all the recipes.

On Saturday I also spent the morning at the farm just down the road from my house.  My mother and I attend a class there on Raising Backyard Chickens - a wonderful way to spend Mother's Day weekend, if you ask me!  Herbert, our teacher (who also builds some pretty cool chicken coops), was so well informed and laid back.  I learned so much about chickens that I almost feel confident about raising my own sometime in the future.  Almost.

I truly love this farm!  The architecture of the ancient, stucco farmhouse.  The towering pines that line the road.  The lush, green rows of vegetables planted row after row that stretch the length of the property.  The little, red mobile chicken coop that is constantly moving; it becomes a game for my kids to find the chickens as we drive past on the way to school.  And the two fluffy white dogs, Lewis and Clark, who live with the chickens and guard them day and night from predators seen or not.  They faithfully rise and greet us as we approach the hens' little red house now hidden from the road, behind the farmhouse and down a little hill.  Everything about this place makes me feel like I've stepped back in time to rural Tuscany. I take a deep breath of the cool, fresh air and don't want to leave.

We spend a lot of time with the chickens.  Little ones, only a month old, run surprisingly fast on stick-like legs to the safety of their barn when we get too near.  I marvel that such a large building is used to house these tiny ones.  But they are happy.  They have space to run, fresh air to breath, sunshine to bask in, and plenty of bugs to hunt.

Then we visit the older, laying hens.  We laugh as one finds a worm in the wet soil and is promptly chased around and around the yard by all the other hens, eager for a bite.  Through a mud puddle and under a pyramid of pallets she runs.  She splashes through a swimming pool, and then tears through a group of geese (and one duck who thinks she's a goose) who scatter and squawk their protest.  When the chase becomes dull, she finally enjoys her worm in peace.  Such a stark contrast from those images we're not supposed to see of factory-farmed hens crowded so close together in sad, dark warehouses, unable to move and never to see sunlight.  No, these are happy, healthy chickens, and you can tell.

Inside the coop, the wall is lined with nesting boxes. In nearly every one there sits an egg, if not two.  Blue, brown, and white eggs nestle together in the soft, well worn straw.  Still so warm, they soothe our frozen hands when we reach in to gather them.  We don't want to put them down.  As we stand there, chickens come and go.  Singing celebrations whenever an egg is laid; the excitement quickly spreads to the hens outside, then the cocky rooster joins in with his happy song.  This is a very noisy place.

I came home more excited than ever about the meat, eggs, and produce I'll purchase this summer from Venetucci Farm.  I can't wait to share it all with you.

The next morning was Mother's Day, so I decided to bake a batch Blueberry Muffins (you know how much I like muffins, right?), and take the rest of the day off.   I was sorting through my spices, looking for the cinnamon which I normally add to my Favourite Blueberry Muffins, when I saw the lavender. The little purple flowers caught the light in such a way as to say, Add me. Add me instead.  I stood there vacillating. Should I go traditional; tried and true? Or should I branch out; add the lavender and see what happens? 


Actually the decision wasn't that hard, as I love lavender in just about anything, and the results were wonderful.   My family kept asking What's that flavor? Lemon? Orange? Cardamom? The muffins were gone by the next morning.

Blueberry Lavender Muffins

3 Tbsp soft butter
1/4 cup fine sugar
1/4 cup coarse Turbinado sugar (plus more for sprinkling on top)
2 cups white whole wheat flour (I like King Arthur)
1/2 tsp sea salt
3 tsp baking powder
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup whole milk
1 tsp lavender
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup organic blueberries ( I use frozen)

Preheat the oven to 400 F (200 C).  Line a 12 cup muffin tin with liners and spray with non-stick cooking spray.

Cream the butter and sugars with a wooden spoon.  Add the flour, salt, baking powder, eggs, and milk.  Mix well.  Slightly crush the lavender flowers and fold them in along with the vanilla.

Fill your pan and sprinkle a little more Turbinado Sugar on the top of each muffin.  Bake for 25 - 28 minutes, until nicely brown on top.

Shared with: Sweet Tooth Friday, Monday Mania, Melt in your Mouth Monday, Hearth and Soul, Full Plate Thursday, Simple Lives Thursday, Foodie Friday

And Then it Rained

In Colorado the rain is precious.  Something to be treasured.  A gift from Heaven meant to be enjoyed and savoured for as long as it lasts.  The drought has persisted here for years now, and I find myself longing for that gentle pitter-patter against my window panes - a distant and fading childhood memory - and the soft, velvet light of the sun filtering through layers upon layers of dense, silver clouds.

This Spring has been unusually hot and dry.   The dirt from the pasture across the road blows in billows and orange waves toward my house in a violent assault on my flowers and trees, on our eyes and lungs.  The distant smoke of far-off wildfires fires creates an amber haze and haunts me with feelings of nervous agitation.  Sudden gusts of hot wind anger the wind chimes outside my kitchen window.  Even the weeds are ashy and wilted as they struggle for life in the dense clay soil.

Last night I noticed a subtle change in tune of the chimes.  A cool, moist wind was blowing from the West and she brought with her the first tiny raindrops of the season, with the promise of more to come.  Finally I was lulled to sleep by that gentle, rhythmic tapping on my bedroom window.

The rain lingered throughout the night, and we all awoke much later than usual, when the first rays of sun normally stream brightly through the Eastern windows.  The world was grey; the earth sodden; the sad, ashy weeds a vibrant, almost fluorescent, shade of emerald.

The gentle rain continued all morning, and as I drove C home from school I noticed that, for the first time in months, I could no longer see the the rocky bed of the river which flows near our house.  As I crossed over the narrow bridge, I felt compelled to pull off the road for an impromptu nature walk.

Though C was still in his school uniform, I couldn't deny him the joy of splashing in the puddles as we walked along the river bank.  Boys will be boys, and clothes will wash.  The air was sweet with the smell of moss, damp earth, and honeysuckle.

As I crept with my camera down the steep, rocky bank for a closer shot of the river, I startled a stately Blue Heron who was resting in a quiet pool below.  He lifted himself on majestic wings and rattled the quiet leaves above as he soared to a safer spot on the other side of the river.

Farther down we came to a place where the river narrows and tumbles violently down a fall of massive boulders.  The ground trembled with the force of the water and we were in awe of the immense power this normally quiet river unleashed.  The sound of it pounded in our ears and we had to yell to hear each other.

As we headed back I felt overwhelmingly blessed to live amid such natural beauty.  There's no where more serene than Colorado after a Spring rainstorm.  Though I'm forever nagged by an unquenchable wanderlust, I don't think I'll ever leave here again.  At least not for good.

We came home feeling cold but fully alive and exhilarated.  A feeling that makes your fingers tingle and your chest swell.  I set a pot of warm Split Pea and Chicken Soup on the stove to simmer while the rain began to fall once again, and the steal-grey sky turned navy and finally black.

Smokey Split Pea and Chicken Soup

2 Tbsp Olive Oil
1 onion, chopped
1 lg organic carrot, diced
1 rib organic celery, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp coriander
1/2 tsp cumin
1 bay leaf
6 cups organic chicken broth or water (or a combination of the two)
1 3/4 cups dry split peas, rinsed and sorted, divided
1 organic chicken breast
1 tsp honey
salt and pepper to taste

Saute the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic in the olive oil with a pinch of salt and pepper for 10 minutes, until soft.  Add the spices and bay leaf and cook a minute longer to toast the spices.  Add the chicken stock and 1 cup of split peas.  Cover and simmer 25 minutes.

Add the remaining 3/4 cup of split peas and simmer 10 more minutes.  (I add the peas in two batches so that some will remain slightly firm while the others fall apart in the soup)

Add the whole chicken breast to poach in the soup for 15 minutes, or until cooked through.  Remove the cooked chicken to a plate until cool enough to handle.  Simmer the soup for 15 - 20 minutes longer, until the split peas are soft. 

When the chicken is cool enough to handle, shred it with two forks.  Add it back to the soup along with the honey.  Taste for seasonings and add more salt and pepper if needed.  Serve with homemade croutons and chopped flat leaf parsley or cilantro.

Homemade Croutons

3 - 4 slices of whole grain bread (I use sprouted bread)
olive oil
salt, pepper, and Italian herbs

Preheat the oven or toaster oven to 400 F (200 C).  Cut the bread into cubes and spread on a baking sheet.  Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and a pinch or two of Italian herbs.  Toss to coat.  Bake for 8 - 10 minutes until crisp and toasted.

Shared with: Full Plate Thursday, Simple Lives Thursday, Foodie Friday, Sunday Night Soup Night, Real Food Wednesday, Monday Mania, Melt in your Mouth Monday, Hearth and Soul, Simple Lives Thursday

Thoughts About Our Food

I've always given a lot of thought to what I ate.  I've used the old adage "you are what you eat" to both justify my choices and convict myself.  But never have I given so much thought to what I eat than recently.  With the sudden, unexplained passing of my mother-in-law this past fall, to the unexpected death of my father-in-law a few years back.  From my children's struggles with food allergies, to my family's propensity for heart disease.  I've started to think that my kids' futures look pretty bleak, unless I figure out what's going on and fix it soon.

About two years ago I began to notice that my son was having trouble eating.  It wasn't the typical four year old struggles - "Yucky.  I don't like that."  He was physically unable to swallow his food.  He felt like his throat was "clogged," and he drank massive amounts of water to get his food down.  He'd refuse to drink milk of any sort, something he'd always loved.  At his next doctor's appointment we found that he'd lost weight.  Immediately his doctor referred me to a gastroenterologist and recommended we have an endoscopy and biopsy of his esophagus and a colonoscopy because she suspected and allergic condition called eosinophilic esophagitis (EE).  For a four year old??  This wasn't right. 

I was floored.  I went home to research nutritional healing and diet and prayed for God's discernment as I sifted through the copious amount of information and opinions on the Internet and in various books. 

Several friends recommended a book called The Maker's Diet by Dr. Jordan Rubin (who cured himself of advanced Crohn's disease), so I borrowed a copy.   I couldn't put it down.  It fell right in line with my religious, ethical, and nutritional convictions.  And it made sense.  In a nutshell it's based on a traditional way of eating found in the Old Testament, and knowledge that we've lost through hundreds of generations of "civilization." It's similar to the Paleo Diet, but it follows the Levitical laws regarding clean and unclean animals.  In the book, Dr. Rubin explains the scientific and biological reasons why some animals were declared clean and safe to eat (sheep, goats, cattle, fowl) and why others were unclean and should not be consumed (pigs, shellfish).  This information itself is worth the read.

I believe that God created our food to nourish our bodies PERFECTLY - in its natural, organic, unprocessed, unaltered state.  But I can't afford to feed my family those types of food, many people complain, It's too expensive.  You're right.  Food is not meant to be cheap.  It takes a lot of money and resources to raise an animal properly for human consumption or to plant, tend to, and harvest a garden.  The result of Adam and Eve's original sin was that man would have to toil and sweat for his food all the days of his life (Genesis 3:17-19).  This means work HARD.  Maybe we're not all farmers these days, we don't all have gardens or raise animals, but we still have to work very HARD to be able to afford good, nutrient-dense food for our families. 

The minute we start to cheapen our food by hydrogenating it, genetically modifying things, making chemical additions, and over-processing it, in an attempt to make it more affordable - in a vain effort to foil God's plan, so to speak - we begin to experience the full and dramatic ramifications of sin's curse on our health.  Cancer, heart disease, diabetes, obesity, food allergies, Autism, ADHD all stem from our manipulation and blatant adulteration of God's perfect food.  The things we do to cheapen our food end up destroying our bodies.

You're being legalistic, some people say.  After all, didn't God tell Noah "Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you" (Genesis 9:3)?  And didn't my Lord and Saviour, Jesus convince Paul "that there is nothing unclean of itself," (Romans 14:23)?  Yes!  It is not a sin to eat the unclean animals,  which is why you'll find that a few of my recipes contain pork in moderation.  However, in no way did God change the animals or our bodies to make this a healthy choice.  If we choose to eat this kind of food (which my family does on occasion) then we must live with the consequences to our health.

After just a few modifications to our already healthy diet - such as eating sprouted grains, adding additional probiotics, cooking with coconut oil in addition to the olive oil we consume by the gallon, and removing a good portion of the "unclean" foods - my son's EE symptoms have completely disappeared!  He even asks to drink milk once again.  Children's bodies are amazingly resilient.  I'm praying that my daughter's allergies will fade over time, as well.  After all, I've entrusted her to the care of the Great Physician.

When I choose food for my family, I look for unprocessed, natural and organic produce, sprouted whole grains, naturally fermented foods, unrefined sugars, and humanely raised, antibiotic-free meat.  We eat this way about 90 percent of the time, and I strive to keep everything in moderation.  This includes the "good" foods, too.  I won't deny my kids a lollipop on Halloween, or a candy cane at Christmastime.  And I wouldn't think of depriving myself of a good piece of French baguette every once and a while, either.  I certainly would never turn down a dinner invitation just because the host doesn't follow my guidelines.  How pretentious and incredibly selfish!  I believe that God allowed us to eat any food as a way to foster that sense of love, communication, and fellowship that is so often felt around the dinner table.  I will teach my children to make healthy choices, but, more importantly, never to judge someone else for a different choice.  We are all on this journey together.  And, as always, I will encourage them to try everything.  After all, food opens our eyes to the world.

Herbed Chicken and Artichokes with Coconut Scented Forbidden Rice

Tuesdays are crazy.  My energy level is at its lowest.  I'm still exhausted from Monday and the middle of the week is yet to come.  So Tuesday is my designated Crock Pot day.

I don't know about you, but I get an overwhelming sense of comfort, even in these times of plenty, knowing that dinner is cooking and my family will have a nutritious, hot meal to come home to.  (Without complications from my chaotic schedule).  It must stem from some ancient, collective memory of when times were lean and food was scarce.  Or maybe it harkens back to my childhood.  I remember walking home from school, wallowing in teenage melancholy.  When entering the house, the aroma of something simmering away in my mother's pea-green slow cooker would quickly soothe all my cares away.  Perhaps I want to establish a sense of calm, in this out of control world, for my family, for my kids.  As funny as it may sound, my Crock Pot helps create an oasis in the midst of the storm.  Can you relate?

So naturally I've amassed quite a collection of my favorites Crock Pot recipes.  On top of that, I recently purchased Michele Scicolone's latest cookbook "The French Slow Cooker."  I was intrigued immediately.  I'd never considered converting any of my favorite French recipes to the slow cooker . . . Sacrilege!  I am, however, looking forward to diving into this book and seeing exactly how she did it, and adding still more variety to our Tuesday menu.  Not to mention the photos, by Alan Richardson, are spectacular!

I've had this recipe for Herbed Chicken and Artichokes in my old, wooden recipe box for ages.  I don't honestly remember where it came from.  I believe it was in the back of one of my slow cookers' manuals.  But let me tell you, this is one of the very best Crock Pot recipes I've found.  I've made it with couscous, egg noodles, baguette, mash potatoes, and we all agree that it's best with rice.  I found this alluring black rice at the market a couple weeks back, and I've been anxious to use it.  E claimed that it was the best rice she's ever had (in all her three long years), and after I told C the story of how it became known as Forbidden Rice, even he ate every last grain on his plate.  What more could I ask for on a crazy Tuesday evening?

Herbed Chicken and Artichokes
(adapted from a Crock-Pot manual)

4 free-range chicken breasts
3 large tomatoes, diced (or 1 14oz can organic diced tomatoes)
1 14 oz can artichoke hearts in water, drained
1 small sweet onion, chopped
1 cup organic chicken broth
1/4 cup dry white wine
3 Tbsp quick cooking tapioca
2 tsp curry powder
1 Tbsp chopped flat leaf parsley (plus more for garnish)
1 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried thyme
1/4 - 1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 cup pitted black or Kalamata olives

Combine everything except the olives in the slow cooker.  Cook on low for 6 to 8 hours.  Add the olives in the last half hour of cooking.  Garnish with more chopped flat leat parsley, and serve over rice or with good, crusty bread.

Coconut Scented Forbidden Rice (soaked)

1 cup Black Rice

1 3/4 cup water, divided

1 tsp cider vinegar

pinch of salt

1-2 tsp organic, extra virgin coconut oil

3 green onions, sliced

When you start the crock pot, start soaking the rice as well.  Combine the rice, 1 cup of water, and the vinegar in a bowl.  Cover and let soak at room temperature for at least 7 hours.

When ready to cook, pour the contents of the bowl into a heavy sauce pan with a tight lid.  Add the remaining 3/4 cup water and a pinch of salt.  Bring to a boil.  Cover and turn the heat to low.  Simmer for 30 minutes until most of the water is absorbed.  Remove from the heat and let sit uncovered for five minutes.  Fluff with a fork.  Stir in the coconut oil, onions, and a pinch more salt if needed.


Two for One:  I added two extra chicken breasts to the Crock Pot so that I could make Chicken Divan the next evening.


Shared with: Hearth and Soul
Family Time Tuesday, Slightly Indulgent Tuesday, Traditional Tuesdays, Nap Time Creatious Tasty Tuesday, Allergy Free Wednesdays, Real Food Wednesday, Full Plate Thursday, Pennywise Platter Thursday, Simple Lives Thursday, Foodie Friday, Feed Your Soul, Mangia Mondays, Melt in Your Mouth Monday, Monday Mania


Banana Brown Bread

I've had a love affair with Brown Bread for a long time.  I think I was six when my mother baked a loaf of traditional Boston Brown Bread for a school party.  It must have been a Thanksgiving Celebration, though I'm not entirely sure.  I've been hooked ever since.  The rich, sumptuous molasses.  The dense, moist texture.  The crispy, crumbly outside of a toasted slice, slather thick in salted butter the next morning.  Oh my!

I've been dreaming of that amazing first taste of Brown Bread for several weeks and I was planning on baking another loaf last weekend.  That is until I noticed a couple of very ripe bananas who'd taken up residence next to the coffee maker.  I decided I'd better make Banana Bread before they were too far gone.

I found my favorite tried and true Banana Bread recipe and then realized that, with just a few changes, I could combine the two and create a Banana Brown Bread - something I've never done before.  The best of both worlds!

I made this for le goûter that afternoon, and it was even better the next day, toasted for breakfast.  Not too overly sweet, like traditional Banana Bread.  Just a little bit tangy, with that molasses-y bite, like Brown Bread.  Perfect.

Banana Brown Bread

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/3 cup all purpose flour (or more whole wheat flour)
1/3 cup old fashioned rolled oats
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
5 Tbsp unsalted butter, room temperature
1/3 cup unrefined, fine sugar
1/4 cup molasses
2 large eggs, room temperature
3 very ripe bananas, mashed
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Preheat your oven to 350 F (180 C).  Butter and flour a 6 cup loaf pan. 

Whisk together the flours, oatmeal, salt, baking soda, and baking powder.  Set aside.  In a large bowl beat the butter, sugar, and molasses until well combined and fluffy.  Beat the flour mixture into the butter, then add the eggs, bananas, and vanilla.  Mix until just combined.  Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread evenly.  Sprinkle the top with a little extra rolled oats to decorate.  Bake 55 - 60 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean.  Cool for several minutes in the pan before removing and slicing.

*a note on baking: I live in the mountains at 6000 feet. All of my recipes work well at high altitude. I haven't tested them at lower elevations, but I'd love to know how they turn out. Please contact me if you need help modifying them.

Shared with: Mangia Mondays, Melt in Your Mouth Monday, Monday Mania, Hearth and Soul, Slightly Indulgent Tuesday, Traditional Tuesdays, Nap Time Creations Tasty Tuesday, Tuesday's Tasty Tidbits, Real Food Wednesday, Full Plate Thursday, Pennywise Platter Thursday, Simple Lives Thursday, Feed Your Soul, Sweet Tooth Friday

The Mountains Were Calling

I said that our road trip didn't exactly turn out as planned.  That's because we never finished it.  There were several factors which interfered with the timing.  Not the least of which was my anniversary which fell right in the middle of the week.  I made it home from the Sand Dunes just in time to spend Tuesday with my husband, and to go to a fabulous new restaurant which recently opened called the Rabbit Hole. 

Playing on the theme of Alice in Wonderland, the Rabbit Hole is by no means an exaggeration.  In our town there are no subways, yet one lone subway entrance stands in the middle of a downtown sidewalk, with a neon sign above which reads "The Rabbit Hole"  You descend a stone staircase into a dim cavern where you immediately feel out of proportion.  The tables are high; the ceiling is low; the silverware is over-sized; and the menu headings are "EAT ME," "DRINK ME," and "RABBIT FOOD."

The food was stunning.  I was tempted to eat only the chocolate covered bacon, but instead I enjoyed bacon-wrapped jumbo prawns stuffed with elk chorizo on a bed of mushroom risotto, and sautéed haricots verts on the side.  And for my husband, a grilled beef fillet topped with a cherry demi-glaze, and truffled sweet potatoes.  It was an amazing anniversary dinner.  I can't wait to recreate something similar at home.

My kids and I left early the next morning, but not to continue our road trip.  Instead we heard the mountains calling, and we stole away into the them.  Why don't we do this more of often?  I asked myself.  We live in the shadow of the peak on which Katharine Lee Bates wrote America the Beautiful, yet we almost never venture there.  I'm so preoccupied with far-off and exotic places that I forget to explore my own backyard.

We went on a Bear Hunt, and tip-toed through a narrow, gloomy cave.  We didn't find a bear, but deep inside we discovered rivulets of water seeping through cracks in the rock wall and snaking past our feet.  Moisture clung to our hair and skin in pearls, and we were so damp and cold that we raced back out into the bright sunshine to warm ourselves. 

We threw handfuls of smelly food to the shiny rainbow trout who swam in the cold, crystal waters of a snow-melt pool.  We laughed as the hungry fish turned the once still pond into anarchy; splashing and jumping and causing quite a commotion.

We tentatively climbed two hundred and twenty-four wet, rickety, steep stairs to the top of a roaring waterfall, and then we climbed back down.  C was half way up when he froze with fear, but after a few minutes of tears and encouragement he pulled himself up and made it all the way to the top.  He was so proud of himself.

We came home famished but energized from our amazing trip to the mountains.  Then I realized that, since we were supposed to be traveling, I'd cleaned out the fridge and hadn't gone to the store.  I had a small chunk of cheddar left, a couple of onions, and an unopened package of bacon.  And I have an unruly chive plant out in the corner of the garden which desperately needed trimming.  So, inspired by my anniversary in the Rabbit Hole, I raided the freezer - et voila - came up with these tasty little sliders.  I served them with my Roasted Red Pepper Soup, which was also stashed away in the freezer.

Cheddar and Chive Sliders

with Maple-Glazed Caramelized Onions and Bacon

10 frozen (or fresh) dinner rolls (I use Rhodes because they're safe for people with tree nut/peanut allergies)

10 slices of bacon, cut in half

For the burgers:

1 1/2 pounds of ground beef

a handful of chives (about 14), minced

1/2 cup of cubed cheddar cheese (small cubes)

1 tsp garlic pepper

one or two pinches of salt

2 tsp olive oil (depending on how lean your beef is)

For the onions:

2 large sweet onions (I use Vidalia whenever I can get them), sliced thin

2 Tbsp pure maple syrup

pinch of salt

To Garnish:

1/2 cup mayonnaise

1/4 cup Dijon mustard

Let your rolls defrost and rise according to the package directions.  I usually do the quick rise method which takes about an hour and a half.  When the rolls are ready to bake preheat the oven to 350 F and bake for 15 - 17 minutes.  Remove from the oven and turn the heat off.  Place two oven-safe plates in the warm oven.

Cook the bacon in a large skillet until crispy.  Drain on paper towels and place on one of the hot plates in the oven to keep warm.  If there is a lot of fat in the pan, drain off all but 1 - 2 Tablespoons.

Add the onions to the bacon fat and cook over med-low for 15 to 20 minutes until the onions are soft, rich, and golden.  Add a pinch of salt and the maple syrup.  Increase the heat and cook for 2 to 3 more minutes.  Remove from heat and pour into a serving bowl.

Meanwhile preheat your grill or grill pan.  While the bacon and onions cook, mix the ingredients for the burgers in a large bowl.  Shape into ten small patties and grill until cooked through.  (I use an indoor George Foreman grill for this)  Remove the cooked patties to the second plate in the oven to keep warm.

Mix the mayonnaise and the mustard in a serving bowl.

I serve all the components on the table so everyone can make their own.  Split a roll in half and spread with the mayonnaise mix.  Top with a burger, 2 slices of bacon, and the caramelized onions.  Enjoy!

Shared with: Tasty Tuesday, Hearth and Soul, Full Plate Thursday, Feed Your Soul

Mountains of Sand and a Simple Pasta Salad

The road trip last week didn't go exactly as planned.  They never do, do they?  That's the allure of a road trip.  The spontaneity.  The flexibility.  The freedom of seeing the open road stretch before you for miles under an endless expanse of blue sky.  I feel like I can finally breathe again.

As my son's school break loomed closer, I envisioned a grand road trip.  I wanted to travel up the length of the Colorado Rockies visiting  places that I remembered from my childhood.  Old ghost towns and abandoned gold mines.  The craggy peaks of mountains so high that breathing becomes a chore after just a few minutes, but the views will take your breath away even faster.  The magnificent Great Sand Dunes, where towering mountains of sand eternally rise and fall with the changing winds.  The stunning Denver skyline at twilight when, for a brief moment, the setting sun turns the Mile High City golden and paints the clouds above fuchsia and lavender, before quickly sinking behind the dark mountains to the west.  Can you only imagine?

Yes the plans were grand, but the week turned out better than anything I could have planned.

We spent the first part of the week traveling through the southern mountains and eventually made it to the Great Sand Dunes.  The look of joy on my children's faces was indescribable.  C, who spent his first two years playing on the sandy beaches of Florida, was in complete awe.  Dune after dune stretched out before his sparkling eyes, each one higher than the one before.  He climbed to the top of a very steep one and went rolling down on his side.  Faster and faster he tumbled, sand flying up behind him like some sort of dust devil.  When he finally reached the bottom he sprawled on his back in the fine, warm sand and softly giggled as the marshmallow clouds whirled and spun in the blue sky above him.  Priceless.

I apologize to any future Sand Dunes visitors, as the dunes will not be quite as large as they were that day.  C brought a good bit of them home in his pockets and socks.  He also left with some huge memories that I know will make him smile for the rest of his life.  I smile, too, as I recall my first visit to the Great Sand Dunes with my grandparents nearly thirty years ago.  The sand is ever blowing, shifting, swirling, changing, yet the Dunes remain exactly as I remember.

Later we had a picnic under a gnarled and scarred old tree.  Its ashy trunk thrust through the rocky sand and divided like the twisted fingers of an ancient hand.  If this tree could talk, what marvelous tales he'd tell!

I packed a simple picnic lunch: Aglio e Olio Pasta Salad with lots of crisp vegetables and a couple of different cheeses.  The kids ate quickly, then ran off to explore a nearby trail.

Driving east again through the mountains, I was flagged down by the sweetest old man.  Suntanned and weather-beaten, and wearing a tattered cowboy hat, he was searching for his lost mule.  He wondered if we'd seen it wandering on the road.  We told him no, but that we'd keep an eye out for it as we went along.  (Though I don't honestly know what I'd actually do with the lost mule had I come across it.)  His kind eyes crinkled into half-moons as he smiled and thanked me over and over again.  A tangible joy seemed to emanate from his bent and crooked body.  That joie de virve that is so hard to grasp; that so many people try to feign.  This was the real deal.

He left me contemplative but happy as I drove away.  As odd as it may sound, these random encounters with strangers are one of the reasons I love traveling like I do.  We are all connected in some way with everyone else.  I love finding the connection.  The trip wouldn't have been complete without this kind stranger.

I could go on and on, but I'll save the rest for another day.  Until then, here's the recipe for the Aglio e Olio Pasta Salad.

Aglio Olio e Limone Pasta Salad

190g mini Conchiglie (shells) pasta, (about 1/2 box)
3/4 cup frozen peas
1 yellow or orange bell pepper, diced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, cut in half
1 Tbsp capers, drained
1/4 cup cubed mozzarella cheese
1/8 cup cubed Parmesan cheese
3 - 4 Tbsp Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 large cloves of garlic, minced
zest of one lemon
salt and pepper
handful of Italian flat leaf parsley, chopped


Boil the pasta to al dente, in the last four minutes add the frozen peas.  Meanwhile heat the oil and garlic together slowly for 8 -10 minutes until the garlic is fragrant but not yet brown.  Remove the oil from the heat and add in the zest of one lemon.  Set aside to cool and infuse. 

In a large serving bowl place the pepper, tomatoes, capers, and diced cheeses.  When the pasta and peas are done, drain and run under cold running water until cool.  Drain very well for several minutes until quite dry.  Add to the veggies in the bowl.  Pour the oil and garlic over top and toss well.  Stir in the parsley and season well with salt and pepper.  Serve at room temperature or chilled.

Shared with: hearth and soul, slightly indulgent tuesday, naptime creations tasty tuesday, tuesday's tasty tidbits, full plate thursday, feed your soul, mangia mondays, melt in your mouth monday, monday mania