Delayed Blessings

I always go to Midnight mass on Christmas. Since I was 10 years old, I have missed only once – due to the pandemic and the shuttering of churches. Until this year. I had every intention of going – I was dressed and ready and putting on my shoes to go, when I remembered the artic blast that hit me a few hours prior, when I opened the door to see my brother out; suddenly, I felt that same chill grip my body, and I could not shake it. Try as I might, I could not get warm. Disappointed, I realized it was too cold outside for me to leave the house; I would have to go to the morning mass, my one condolence that I would be able to surprise my brother when I sat down next to him.

I had wanted to do a mass offering for my parents on Christmas morning, but that’s no longer allowed at my parish, so I had a mass offering the third week of Advent – disappointing, because I wanted my brother to be at the mass offered for our parents, our first Christmas since Dad passed and our second without Mom; instead, I had to go it alone. I made an additional donation for the Christmas flowers, so my parents would be “remembered in the Christmas prayers”. Overall, the Christmas season had been a big disappointment on the spiritual front. And then…

Shortly after arriving at church on Christmas morning, one of the ushers approached and asked me if my brother and I would like to bring down the offering of the gifts for the Eucharist. Walking down the center aisle of our church, my brother holding the wine and I the bread… it was the Christmas Day mass offering I had wanted! And so much more…

In those few moments, as my brother and I solemnly walked to the alter bearing the bread and wine that would become the body and blood, I felt the spirit of my (acrimoniously divorced) parents looking over my brother and me, and in that moment the four of us were a loving family once again. 

Delayed blessings are the best blessings…when you don’t get what you want, it’s because there is something better in store for you.

Recipe: Gołomki (Polish Stuffed Cabbage Rolls)

Growing up in a Polish-American family, I learned about my cultural roots through the food - which is a big part of Polish culture. Feeding others is how we express our love for them! 

Polish food can be time consuming to make from scratch, which is why many people have come up with short-cuts to make it easier for weeknight cooking...but in doing so, something is lost, which is why I save my Polish cooking for weekends and special occasions. With the holidays approaching, I thought I would share a family favorite - Gołomki (pronounced "gowomkey" or - in a more casual tongue, "gwumkey"; the crossed "L" has a "w" sound).

Gołomki is made with a combination of beef and pork, with rice holding the mixture together. If you are on a tight budget, you can reduce the amount of meat used and increase the rice without sacrificing flavor - something many of us need to consider in this time of inflation and supply-chain difficulties that is causing our grocery bills to outstrip out budgets. 

When I was growing up, gołomki was a familiar dish at my family dining table - partially because it was economical and partially because it is drool-inducingly delicious! As an adult, I could always count on my mother to make enough to share with me, as a full head of cabbage makes for a lot of delicious little bundles of Polish love! With the passing of my mother this past spring, the family recipe books that have been passed down through the past several generations have been passed to me, and I am now the keeper of my family's food heritage. Having no children of my own, I choose to pass along this recipe to the food lovers of the Internet, and as I say to those who share my Polish roots, Na Zdrowie!

Gołomki (Polish Stuffed Cabbage Rolls)

1 pound ground beef

1/2 pound ground pork

2 cups dry rice (NOT instant) & 4 cups water

1/4 cup onion, diced or 1 Tbsp. onion powder

salt and pepper, to taste

1 can tomato sauce

5 slices bacon

1 large head cabbage

 

Directions

To prepare cabbage:

Remove core of cabbage and put cabbage in large pot of water to simmer (45 minutes – 1 hour). Drain water and leave cabbage to cool so it will be easy to handle.

To prepare filling:

Put 4 cups of water in large pot and add rice; bring to a boil and immediately lower heat to simmer rice for 10 minutes. Rice is now half-cooked. Add uncooked ground beef and ground pork to rice and mix well. Add onion (or onion powder), salt and pepper, and other seasonings if desired.

To prepare gołomki:

When cabbage is cool enough to handle, gently pull each leaf off, being careful not to rip the leaves. Fill each cabbage leaf with ground meat and rice mixture, and fold leaf to enclose mixture. Put each complete roll into a large casserole dish, making a single or double layer of cabbage rolls. Tuck any small pieces of cabbage and/or shredded leaves in between the rolls and top the dish with raw bacon; cover the whole dish with tomato sauce.

Bake in 300-degree F oven, uncovered, for 2 hours. Serve hot. Tastes even better the next day!

If you are not a fan of cabbage, take heart! You can prepare the filling as directed and bake it en casserole by putting it directly into a casserole dish and topping it with bacon and tomato sauce. Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees F and serve with your choice of vegetable on the side...and for the full Polish experience, a nice thick slice of crusty bread!

KJM

11.20.2021

Baking Bread and Lessons Learned

I'm baking bread today, which got me thinking about the first time I baked bread...

It was the mid-1980's and I was taking the home economics class required of all students, male and female: Cooking. My parents had recently divorced and my grandmother had taken to teaching me how to cook, figuring I could help my Mom in the kitchen, so I was a bit more advanced than most of my classmates who had never turned on a stove and whose culinary abilities were limited to the newfangled craze of microwave popcorn. Knowing this, my teacher suggested I try a more advanced recipe for my homework and gave me a few selections to try. Even back then I preferred baking to cooking and I chose to try my hand at a yeast bread. That was when I discovered that there are are a few things one needs to know about yeast before working with it, particularly that you cannot say the word "yeast" around teenaged boys without grossing them out; this is because most teenaged boys do not realize that there are many different types of yeast (approximately 1,500) and it is not limited to those that result in genital infection. 

The second thing to know about yeast also applies as a general rule of baking: follow the measurements EXACTLY. Yeast - and baking in general - requires precise measuring; unless you want to create a loaf of bread the size of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, remember that less is more. 

Gotta whole lotta carbs!

The most important thing I learned about yeast is that IT'S ALIVE! Yes, even when packaged for use in baking, yeast is a living organism. It needs oxygen, water and a warm and toasty environment in order to "activate". When working with yeast, you will need to be patient. Yeast will not be rushed from it's dormant state! Anyone who has ever owned a cat is well-prepared to work with yeast; the rest of you may experience a learning curve. 

Another flashbulb memory that came racing back to me today as I put my Kitchen Aid stand mixer to work were the introductory words to the bread recipe in my mom's Betty Crocker Cookbook, circa 1960's: 

"So you've decided to bake bread? High time you tried!" 

Wow, Betty, tell me how you really feel about those of us who rely on (gasp!) store bought loaves! I recall how my mother poked her head into the kitchen upon hearing the laughter of her then thirteen year old daughter, knowing what her thirteen year old daughter found highly amusing must be something that went against the feminist grain of the 1980's. Then, upon discovering that Betty Crocker was shaming her daughter - and everyone else who ever opened the cookbook to that recipe - she laughed and explained to me that the expression "day-old bread" - meaning something that is still good but not as good as it once was - could be taken literally in the case of day-old bread and once upon a time women were expected to do the baking at least twice a week. I remember smiling as clarity dawned upon me: This was why my grandmother, a goddess of domesticity, always went to the bakery to buy bread twice a week! Grandma was fighting the power of her generation's cultural expectations.

Flipping through that Betty Crocker cookbook was like taking a trip in a time machine into a world I never knew existed. I learned that recipes called for room-temperature butter because it is nearly impossible to cream cold butter by hand (even though cookies bake up so much lighter and fluffier when you use cold butter!); electric mixers were a luxury back then. I learned that gravy was a staple dressing because meats were cooked to the point of dryness in order to ensure food-borne bacteria would not be a threat. And I learned that women were expected to place the gastric pleasure of their husbands at the top of their goals for a successful marriage. (Back then, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach - in more ways than one. How many men of a certain era died too young from heart disease due to high cholesterol?).

As I bake bread today (wheat, not white!), I think about the societal changes that have occurred since the Greatest Generation were actively parenting their Boomer children...and I wonder what Generation Alpha, still yet to be conceived, will one day think of my cookbook collection. 

Recipe: Sweet and Savory Keto-Friendly Barbecue Sauce

It's Labor Day weekend here in America, and I decided to celebrate by being a sloth. I went off my diet and exercise regimen and sat around watching Netflix and eating bad food - chips, half a box of Little Debbie Nutty Buddys, microwave popcorn - with butter! - peanut-butter and jelly...I recall there being thick-cut, fried bacon in there somewhere, as well. My body rewarded me by dropping 3 pounds. Sometimes, our bodies need a vacation, too. 

I am not looking forward to going back to my regular regimen of strictly healthy eating, but realize the unfortunate truth that it is a lifestyle which I must follow. I was not blessed with a working thyroid and replacement hormones can only do so much. I have to do my part...and since necessity is the mother of invention, I came up with this Sweet and Savory Keto-Friendly Barbecue Sauce, because I am not going to miss one last chance at a summer barbecue!

The ingredients are things most (all?) diabetics and keto dieters keep in their pantry. If you don't, you really should; plant-based sweeteners do not raise your blood glucose and most people respond well to them in other ways, too. No diarrhea (hello, maltitol!) and no headaches (yes, aspartame, I'm talking about you!). Because they are plant-based your brain recognizes them as it would a natural sugar, so they do not get you craving table sugar. Plus, unlike with chemical sweeteners, there are no post-meal blood glucose spikes. OK! I'm done lecturing! On to the recipe...

Sweet and Savory Keto-Friendly Barbecue Sauce

Ingredients

¾ cup packed monk fruit golden sugar or Truvia brown sugar blend

¾ cup sugar-free ketchup

¼ cup agave nectar 

2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar

2 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce

1 Tbsp garlic powder

1 Tbsp onion powder

2 tsp smoked paprika

2 tsp chili powder

Directions

In a small bowl add all ingredients in the order listed and mix well, breaking up any brown sugar lumps until sauce has reached a smooth consistency. Refrigerate until use.

Makes approximately 2 cups
Stays fresh for up to 2 weeks (with refrigeration)

12 Pounds Too Heavy

I went to the doctor a few weeks ago for my annual physical. Everything checked out great - my weight is within medically acceptable range for my height, my hemoglobin A1c is normal - great news for a diabetic like me! - and all of my blood serum levels are where they should be, although my sodium was on the low side (what's your theory, Trekkies?). Yes, my cholesterol is great, my blood pressure was perfect, my hypothyroidism is well controlled...and the doctor's scale showed a 12 pound difference than my bathroom scale.

12 pounds. (That's 5.4 kg to the world beyond my country's borders). I'm stand about 5' 5-1/2" (166 cm), so that is a significant number to anyone, but especially to a woman who is extraordinarily conscious about her health and body image. 12 pounds. A few years back, after a serious illness that led to tremendous weight gain, I spent nine months working my butt off (quite literally) to get back to a healthy weight. 12 pounds. I do cardio five days a week, plus weight training two days a week to build and maintain a healthy level of muscle mass. 12 pounds. I eat a plant-based diet, with meat and dairy as accompaniments to a meal instead of the main course and I monitor both my caloric and nutrient intake, balancing my plate with good fats, low-sugar carbs, resistant starch, and lean proteins. 12 pounds.

12 pounds. I'm still the same person I was before I saw that number on the doctor's regularly calibrated, extremely accurate, digital scale. 12 pounds. My favorite dresses still fit like they always have. 12 pounds. I'm still exceptionally healthy and energetic; I still go walking every day, and bike riding on Sundays. 12 pounds. I still sing along with the overhead radio at the grocery store as I dance my cart full of nutritious food down the aisles and toddlers join in my fun! 12 pounds.

12 pounds. My loved ones have always thought I am beautiful, regardless of my weight. 12 pounds. I still look 15 years younger than I actually am, or so people tell me. 12 pounds. My friends still want to go places with me, to see and be seen. 12 pounds.

12 pounds. I'm still kindhearted and curious and fun to be with - 12 POUNDS! I'm still the kind of person who judges people by the content of their character, not the look and size of their body. TWELVE POUNDS. I still love my curves and can't imagine being drawn any other way but the way I am. TWELVE MOTHERFLAKING POUNDS! So why...why, in spite of all of these positive, wonderful things about me, why does my self-esteem - my very sense of self-worth - oscillate with the number on a scale?

Why do I suddenly feel like the most beautiful woman in the world for discovering that my bathroom scale weighs me 12 pounds too heavy?

KJM
08.16.2020

Recipe: Spicy Black Bean and Oat Veggie Burgers

As you may recall from reading previous posts to this blog, I love meat. I generally don't eat a lot of it, for a variety of reasons - a family history of heart disease being the biggest one - but I am in no way a vegetarian or a vegan, nor do I have the desire to become one; however, I am an omnivore and I do enjoy many vegetarian and vegan dishes, one of the simplest being the humble yet versatile veggie burger.

Veggie burgers can be made from tofu, beans, mushrooms, oats and other grains. They can be made vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, chunky or smooth. Depending on your preference, they can be made mild or spicy, with an Italian flair, Asian fusion, or Southwest spice - whatever you like; there is no wrong flavor!

I discovered my perfect veggie burger while a college student, back in the early 1990's; it was oat and egg based, not soy-based, crunchy on the outside but soft on the inside, and tasted good with ketchup. Because it contained eggs as a binding agent, vegans could not eat it; after a protest, the school dining service switched to a soy-based veggie burger which I could not eat (soy allergies!) and thus ended my foray into meat substitutes.

Fast forward to middle age and suddenly meat substitutes are all the rage again, as Generation X is watching its cholesterol while Generations Y and Z are flexing their ecological conscience to effect change in the grocery store. While there is now a wide variety of veggie burgers to choose from, the whole "beyond meat" program is still "beyond budget" for many shoppers. I recently caught a sale on black beans, and decided to pull together this "Spicy Black Bean and Oat Veggie Burger" recipe...and by spicy I mean as spicy as you want to make it; I prefer to let each flavor give the burger just a little peck on the cheek as opposed to a full-blown kiss, so feel free to adjust the spice levels upward as you please.

Spicy Black Bean and Oat Veggie Burgers

Ingredients

2 (15 oz. cans) black beans, drained and rinsed

¾ cup uncooked regular rolled oats (instant or old-fashioned)

2 tsp. garlic powder

2 tsp. onion powder

2 tsp. celery salt

1 tsp. chili powder

1/4 tsp. ground black pepper

1 Tbsp. soy sauce

4 Tbsp. cooking oil, divided (I like toasted sesame oil, but any oil will do)

4 sandwich buns

Sauces/garnishes as desired (salsa, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, lettuce, tomato, etc.)

Directions

Put all ingredients except sandwich buns, sauces/garnishes and 2 Tbsp. cooking oil into food processor bowl and mix on high for 30 seconds. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, and pulse for 30 seconds more. Remove mixture from bowl and place on cutting board or waxed paper. (As always, if you do not have a food processor you can mash the mixture by hand).

Divide mixture into 4 evenly sized balls and shape into patties (if you prefer thin burgers you can do as many as 8, just serve on smaller buns). Let stand at room temperature for 5 -10 minutes before cooking; if not cooking right away, wrap with waxed paper, store in a plastic bag and refrigerate or freeze (just remember to defrost them in the fridge, not on the counter-top).

To cook: Heat frying pan and remaining 2 Tbsp. cooking oil to medium heat; cook burgers for 3 - 4 minutes per side. Overcooking will cause the oats to burn.

Once cooked, the look and texture of the veggie burgers is very similar to hamburgers; the spice level in these burgers makes them tasty enough that you won't miss the meat!

KJM
08.12.2020

"Juice, Daddy, Juice!"

As a very young child, I loved fruit juice - so much so that my parents would leave a small glass of juice for me in the refrigerator before they went to bed each night so I could satisfy my craving for it, should I wake in the middle of the night, without having to wake them (it was the 1970's; back then, we were told it was healthy!). I would usually find a glass of orange or apple juice, but sometimes it was Welch's grape - tolerable, but not preferred, due to the silt that always settled at the bottom of the glass. One time, Mom left me a glass of tomato juice and my wails of grief taught her never to make that mistake again. My name is Kimmie, and I am a recovering juice-aholic. I am also the daughter of a cop.

The reason I had a habit of waking in the middle of the night is because my father often worked the second and third shift, coming home well after my 8 PM bedtime. I would hear him come home, take off his gun belt, and know that Daddy was home. It never occurred to me that he might not come home; I just found life to be preferential when he was home. In the world I grew up in, Mommies were there to dry tears and Daddies were there to keep us safe from the bad guys. (Plus, he sometimes brought fresh jelly donuts from Dunkin'. My childhood diet was more reflective of my father's on-the-go eating habits than my mother's efforts to instill a love of nutrition in me).

And so my days went, placidly ebbing and flowing one into the next, until I started school and Daddy switched to a first-shift patrol that started well before I was supposed to wake and start my day. Supposed to wake being the key phrase. While I was now sleeping through the night, I still woke at the sound of a pin dropping...and upon waking, I wanted my juice.

"Juuuuuiiiiiccccceeeeee!!!! Juice, Daddy, Juice!" I would cry, waking the rest of the house with my high-pitched pleas. In short order, my father would arrive at my bedside with a small glass of juice and sit with me as I drank it. He would then kiss me on the top of the head, say his goodbyes, and leave for the day. This ritual continued for several years (until my parents divorced), and never once did it occur to me why my father would spend these few minutes with me every morning; I simply saw it as the natural order of things: I was Daddy's Little Girl - his Kimmy-Kat! - and it made him happy to bring me juice and sit with me each morning. Who was I to deny him this delight?

It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized the significance of the "morning juice ritual" my now absent father had faithfully performed all those years. I was doing an independent study in media and video production and my partner - another cop's kid (we tend to gravitate towards each other) - seemed a bit distracted, ignoring the major details of our project and honing on a micro-flicker - literally a 1/16th of a second tail that had missed being cut on an edit we had done a few weeks prior. As our mentor took the moment to educate us about how subliminal messages work, a feeling came over me like a punch to the gut: the prior day had been the 10th anniversary of the day my partner's Dad had "answered his final call" - police talk for when a fellow officer is killed in the line of duty or from injuries sustained while performing their duties. Not all Daddies come home at the end of watch.

I share this story not to highlight my life, but the lives of police officers and their families. At a time when people seek to make villains out of those who wear blue, I want to highlight the fact that there is a person behind the shield; a person with a spouse and children who live in the community they have sworn to protect. For them, it's not just a job - it's personal.

There are almost 1 million sworn officers of the law in the United States. Here is a sample of what they face, all for an average of $52,000/year, before overtime pay*:

• In 2018, 55 police officers were feloniously killed and 51 accidentally killed, for a total of 106 officers killed in the line of duty.

• There were 89 law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty in 2019 (48 felonious, 41 accidental). 

• As of this writing, 27 officers have been feloniously killed in the line of duty in 2020 (at this time last year it was 21)

• There were 58,866 assaults against law enforcement officers in 2018 alone, resulting in 18,005 sustained injuries serious enough to require medical attention and/or time out of work

• A total of 1,627 law enforcement officers died in the line of duty during the past 10 years, an average of one death every 54 hours or 163 per year. Their average age was 36.5 years

These stats represent only sworn officers of the law - not correctional officers, parole officers, court officers, private security officers, and many others who work to enforce the rules of a civil society.

I am not naive enough to believe that all officers are worthy of the badge they wear. I am aware that there are some who rush to judgement, who racially profile, who have PTSD so severe that it affects their ability to do their job properly. But I ask you to gather a group of 1 million people from any profession that serves the public - doctors, teachers, faith leaders, politicians, etc. - and find a group that is absent these same issues, along with the egregious results that sadly sometimes occur. 

I am not seeking to change the minds of those who demonize police; only to open their eyes to the other side of the story they judge, to inform them of all that it entails, and - if you are one of those who openly criticize police officers - to invite you to apply for the job yourself! 

KJM

07.01.2020

*Sources: National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund, FBI Uniform Crime LEOKA Report