Food, Family, Faith, and Fun — all wrapped up in one!
Happiness Is:
Meeting an old friend after a long time and feeling like nothing has changed.
Hot and melty artichoke dip may not be the kind of friend I can hang out with, but when this recipe resurfaced after a couple years on the shelf, the friendship has been renewed and strengthened.
We got married in 1988 – the year for goose cookie jars (we got 3, kept none), glass platters with matching bowls, and everything else was blue and brown. Thankfully, we were not part of the mushroom set, or the sunflower set. If you’ve been married more than 30 years, you know what I’m talking about.
Read moreCrockpot Creamy Chicken & Wildrice Soup – Gluten Free
Close your eyes. Imagine this: your grandmother sitting on the front porch with a towel across her lap, snapping a huge bowl of beans. Now, picture me on my front porch – taller than your grandma and NOT wearing a pink polyester pantsuit – skinning a large bowl of chickpeas. True story!
Some people – like me – need to eat often. And I really like to eat. 🙂 But way too often I feel empty again not too long after eating. Enter: Quinoa!
This week’s Guest Chef is my younger sister from Alaska! Ellen and her family have been visiting this week.
There are buds on the trees, the temperature remained above freezing last night, shoots from several flowering bulbs have emerged, yet it’s chilly enough to want to sit by the fire and sip some soup. (Lots of S’s there!)
Although I have never been to Tuscany – it’s on my bucket list – foods based on the Tuscan tradition of simplicity, availability, quality, and economy seem to fit perfectly with my style of cooking. And eating.
It’s Friday night. What does that mean to you??? In our family, it usually means pizza and a movie.
Winter in Minnesota usually means sweaters, slippers, and hands wrapped around a mug of something hot. Since I am not a huge fan of typical “comfort food”, I tend to make soups and stews. But sometimes even that can feel too heavy.
Contrary to popular belief, not all women like to shop. Some of us feel like pimply, awkward teenagers every time we walk into a mall, and our anxiety nearly blows through the roof. A trip to Macy’s can trigger hyperventilation (I love that word). But at least there is some order at Macy’s – black sweaters of every size hang on one rack. The next rack is a sea of bluejeans. I can handle that.
