Thrifty Tasty Tuesday: Blinner...

... or A Mom's Gotta Do, What a Mom's Gotta Do

         As you know, I've been trying my very best to get my family to eat healthier these days and share my inspiration with you. Well, sometimes inspiration and desperation go hand in hand. Last week I really felt like I was on top of things. I planned to make my favorite black bean soup for dinner on Tuesday. I soaked my beans the day before and had my onions and peppers chopped and ready to go before I went to bed. Tuesday morning, I tossed everything in the slow cooker, turned it to low, and went to work.

         I unlocked the door at the end of the day, expecting to smell gently simmering beans with a touch of chili powder. Instead, I was assaulted with the smell of raw garlic and onions. The Crock Pot wasn't plugged in. I thought about calling for takeout, but our budget only allows for that indulgence once or twice a week and I hate to cave on a Tuesday. I'd much rather wait until the end of the week to have someone else do the cooking. So I went to the pantry in search of something quick and easy. There was plenty of food in the house. But nothing that could be prepared with the time and energy that I had at the end of the day. So I turned to one of my kids' favorite meals: breakfast for dinner. I scrambled some eggs, thawed some frozen strawberries, and whipped together my favorite pancake recipes.

         There are loads of good pancake mixes on the market. But making them from scratch only takes a few minutes more and you'll end up with a more wholesome product—no trans fats, no preservatives, no bleached flour.

Vickie's Multigrain Pancakes

1 Cup Unbleached all-purpose flour

1 Cup Yellow Cornmeal

1 Cup Wholewheat flour

¼ Cup ground flaxseed

3 T. turbinado (raw) sugar

2 t. baking powder

¾ t. salt

½ t. baking soda

3 Cups buttermilk

3 eggs

2 T. vegetable oil

In a large bowl, thoroughly combine dry ingredients.

In a separate bowl, mix eggs, buttermilk and oil.

Pour liquid ingredients into dry and stir lightly. A few lumps left behind will disappear in cooking. With pancakes (as with muffins and quickbreads) overmixing will make your pancakes tougher.

Let the batter rest while you heat your griddle*. Sprinkle a few drops of water across the surface of your griddle to test it. The water drops should “dance” when it's hot enough. Spray the pan with non-stick spray or brush with vegetable oil when the griddle is hot.

Pour slightly less than ¼ cup of batter for each pancake**. Leave space around each pancake so they can expand. Turn pancakes when the edges begin to look dry and bubbles appear on top—don't flip too soon! The second side will take less time to cook than the first.

Keep pancakes warm in a “low” oven while you continue to make pancakes and cover with a clean cloth napkin or dish towel to prevent drying.

Serve with your favorite pancake toppings.

This batter can also be used to make waffles.

*I highly recommend an electric griddle. I have a “fancy” one that folds in half so it doubles as a panini press. But inexpensive griddles are available for less than $25. They keep a consistent temperature and you can cook 6-8 pancakes at a time.

**An ice cream scoop works great for portioning pancake batter.

The Scent of a Memory

 

This story picks up where I last left Karen...

                   Karen slid into the diner's red vinyl booth. The smells in the air caused a battle of memories in her mind. Her father used to bring her to show off his little princess to his cronies. She loved the spinning stools at the counter. Those happy memories faded when she started waiting tables here. When she was a little girl the diner meant time with daddy—the smell of apple pie and cocoa. As an adult it meant tiny burns on her fingers, sore feet, and the smell of bacon grease and stale cigarettes.

                   “This place hasn't changed a bit,” Danny said. “Mum brought me here for frappes to celebrate when I was a kid. It seemed, I don't know, grander then.”

                   “It did. It was a treat to come here with my Dad. When I started working here it became something else.”

                   “I had forgotten you worked here. I'm sorry. Maybe we should have gone somewhere else.”

                   “It's fine. Nothing else is open this time of night. Besides, it's nice to remember that it once was special.”

                   “You still manage to find the good in everything. Even when you were a kid, you always found something good about every situation.”

                   Karen brushed aside the compliment. What he saw as a strength she often wondered if it was herself being naïve.

                   “I remember you Danny you constantly fighting. It’s strange to see you on the path to Holy Orders.”

                   “What do you remember about my fights?'

                   The neighborhood had always thought of Danny as a troublemaker. But Karen could only remember the time he chased off the boys who were teasing her. She could picture his freckled face turning red and his root beer brown eyes looking angry and sorrowful.

                   “I'll never forget the day Billy Smith and his gang were teasing me. They said something about my dad. They said it was my fault...”     

“I was weeding my mother's garden when I overheard that. I always hated bullies,” Danny said. “I'm studying for the priesthood. I know now I'm not supposed to hate...”

                   “Thank you,” Karen said. “I didn't say it then. I was scared and confused. They never bothered me again after that.”

                   “I broke Billy's nose. I just meant to make him back off, but I snapped. My mother made me go to confession.”

                   “He's a cop now.”

                   “Billy? I know. I went to the police academy with him.”

                   “What? When did this happen?”

                   “I didn't stay for long. I went in thinking I could serve Justice. I thought I could make a career out of standing up for the little guy. But it was all the same guys I used to see pushing everyone else around when we were kids. Only now they'd be wearing badges.”

                   “So I got a job and worked my way through Boston College. I found another way to serve. What about you Karen? I never thought you'd still be here.”

                   Her face changed at that. A mask went over the face Danny remembered from childhood.

                   “I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

                   She shook her head, “It's okay. I thought things would be different. I'm only twenty-two. Maybe things will be different someday. Or maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.”

                 

                    I’m linking up for the first time with Master Class over at Sinistrial Scribblings. Our prompt for this week was to end our story with the final line from Judy Blume’s Tiger Eyes, “Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”  It’s also an answer to Write on Edge’s prompt this week which asked us to be inspired by the sense of smell as well as the word “elixir”.  If you’re new to Karen’s story, you can read more here.

Trifecta Weekend Challenge: Rhoda

 

            I’m linking up with the Trifecta Weekend Challenge. This week’s Challenge is more of a reading assignment, than a writing assignment. Instead of writing 33 words, we are to post 33 favorite words from a work of literature. I chose a quote from one of the first “grown up” authors I read as a teenager, Ellen Gilchrist. Ms. Gilchrist has written a number of stories and novels about a fiery redheaded writer named Rhoda. This is something  Rhoda says about herself when she finds herself surprisingly proud that her grandson has driven off one of his mother’s suitors.

            I’m a Celt. I pile up stones and keep a loaded pistol in my underwear drawer. My ancestors painted themselves blue and impaled each other on oak staves. I can’t stand tyranny.

The rest of the quote is great. But sadly, I’m only allowed 33 words. If you want to read more, check out A Wedding in Jackson from Rhoda: A Life in Stories. 

Karen: Silent Prayer

This story picks up where I left off here...

                   Karen slid into the cold oaken pew and gazed up at the jewel-like light streaming through her favorite stained glass window. The leftover smell of Sunday's incense brought her back to her childhood days of seeking refuge under the marble arches of St. Edward's. She had come one night as a child when her parents were fighting. It was raining and she found the door unlocked. She had come to Mass hundreds of time with her parents. But the church was different at night. The quiet was absolute and eery, yet comforting. It seemed more sacred without organ music and other people.  Karen found peace and space to have faith in this dimly lit sanctuary.

                  When Peggy died, Karen stopped going to Mass. That was something they did together. With her mother gone, Karen only prayed in solitude. She knelt and closed her eyes and couldn't think of what to pray for. For Henry? That he might leave his blushing bride for her. Surely that wasn't a very Christian thing to wish for. For her own pain? She admonished herself to stop the self-pity. For the wisdom to move on? That. That she decided was what she needed most on this night. She made the sign of the cross and walked up the aisle. She nodded absently to a young man who passed her.

                   “Karen?” he asked.

                   She turned and looked at the skinny red-haired man. He was familiar, but she didn't know why.

                   “Yes. My name is Karen. I'm so sorry, I just can't place you.”

                   “Oh, it's alright. It's been a long time. We grew up on the same street...”

                   “Danny? Danny O'Neill? Is that you?”

                   “Ah, you do remember!”

                   “It's good to see you Danny. Are you well?”

                   “I am. I'm happy to be back. I've been assigned to St. Edward's.”
                   She took in his somber clothes for a moment.

                   “You're a priest now?”

                   “Not yet. I'm a deacon. I'll take Holy Orders when I finish my studies.”

                   Karen smiled. Danny was an unlikely priest. He fought constantly with other children when they were younger. Maybe that would help him. This neighborhood had gotten a little rougher since then.

                   “How about you Karen? How's life treating you?”

                   She shrugged. Where to begin?

                   “Oh you know. Ups and downs like everyone else.”

                   “How's your mother?”

                   “She passed away last spring.”

                   “I'm sorry for your loss.”

                   “Thank you,” she said, grateful he hadn't added “She's with Jesus” or “It's all a part of God's plan.”

                   “Listen, I was just going to grab a cup of coffee at the diner. Will you join me? I'd love to catch up.”

                   “Is that allowed? I mean, now that you're...”

                   He laughed.

                   “It's just coffee with an old friend. You'll just have to fight the urge to seduce a man of the cloth.”

                   “Ah, there's the Danny I remember,” she grinned. “Why not? It's been a strange day. I'll end it on a date with a deacon.”

                    My latest Karen story is in response to a Write on Edge prompt that asked us to draw inspiration from the picture of the stained glass window you see above. You can read more about Karen here. 

To the Moon

      Good afternoon dear readers! I must apologize for my absence lately. If the last week of my life had been a novel, it would have been gripping. It had all the elements: drama, comedy, a touch of ill health, tension, romance, and even a smattering of violence. Since it was real life, however, it left me exhausted. It also left me feeling content and fulfilled. Last week was “production week”, the week that leads up to and includes opening weekend of a play.

      There were many late nights and many take out dinners. Thrifty Tasty Tuesday took a backseat to Chinese takeout. I took a picture for Wordless Wednesday, but was so off my game I barely cracked open my laptop all week. Fiction Friday? The only fiction I handled last week was Moon Over Buffalo, the comedy I directed.

      We opened Friday night to a small, but enthusiastic audience. Two months of creativity and hard work were ready to show the world. The cast and crew handled every detail with the utmost skill and grace. I felt like my kids scored a goal, got straight A's, and remembered to say “please” and “thank you” all on the same day. Two excellent performances down, three to go.

      Today I'm catching up with my blog, yoga, my laundry, my kids, and trying to get some healthier food on the table. If there's time, I may even catch an episode of Downton Abbey. Fiction Friday will return this week and Thrifty Tasty Tuesday will be back next week. See you then!