Soup, the calming food

After the anxiety of the recent days, I had a lovely quiet day of knitting, listening to a Marjorie Allingham audiobook, and making the soup I'd planned.

I used the whey from the cheese making, with cashews, carrots and sweet potatoes, and milk powder to make a cream soup. Flavored with nutmeg, lemon juice turmeric and berbere.  Isn't that a beautiful golden color?  You can't stay tense around this soup.

And I found these

They look like sections of Greek architecture. The salt is particularly amazing, minute cubes.  Wonder is a good thing to invite into our lives, even in such tragic times.

Some of these things are not like the others

 This is a selection of the squares, and, as expected from using a wide variety of yarns, they're not all the same size, though they all have the same number of stitches and same needles. 

So this is where some of those trailing yarn ends come into play, to crochet edges on the smaller ones, equalize the sizes, and join them all. There may be contrasting joining color throughout, to unify this wild work.

And there will definitivo be steaming before any crocheting happens, to see just how close they are in finished size.

The small handweights are the result of a discovery yesterday. 

I thought for once it would be a change to take a bath instead of a shower. I have grab bars, all that, and it's worked up to now to take a tub once in a while.  I also have my phone right by the tub always.

So I enjoyed a soak, lavender and almond oil, and then went to climb out. Only to find that my recent weeks, of vaxxing and the search for the vax, involving exhausting hours round the clock, recovering from vaxxing,  and neglecting my weight lifting, had reduced my arm strength.  

To where I couldn't raise my poor old bod from the tub. I did manage to scramble out, from all fours. But I decided I'd better recover some form.

So I dug out the weights and found my larger ones that I used regularly, until a few weeks ago, are now too heavy!  So for the moment I've dropped back to these littler ones, until I get back up there.  I don't always want a tub, but I do want the option.

And I did a series of upper body lifts, to get started. These smaller weights are going to be right in sight, so I remember to work with them. I'm hoping I'll soon be up to my heavier ones, but my arms will tell me when.

Thrills but no spills, glad to report.

And today soup happened. Cashews soaking overnight, and I blended that Misfits vegetable broth with the last of the split pea batter, carrots, garlic, onions, ginger, dash of chili powder, no nutmeg this time.

And it made a good soup for yet another cold rainy day.

So that's us from this damp corner of the planet.

Soup, muffins and dumpster finds

 I've been wanting to make carrot cashew soup for a while, and had some misfits carrots already prepped and in the freezer for that purpose.  Then I found that the can of cashews was not as full as I thought, so I added in a handful of yellow split peas, so as to keep the golden color.  

Cooking down the onions here, and a rind of Parmesan cheese, always a terrific flavor addition to soup.  If it doesn't dissolve, you can fish it out, rinse and reuse later.  I keep them in the freezer.  This one ended up dissolving.  And there was a little container of chicken flavored liquid in the freezer, which I added.

 Beautiful color, and here with Thai basil as a garnish, also a flavoring, this is all it takes to flavor soup with it.  And since the split peas thickened the soup a lot, it can be thinned with milk if I feel like doing it. Half a dozen helpings in this pot of soup.

Then, last evening I realized, shock, horror, all the banana bread, and the cornbread, was gone.  The bakery larder was bare!  so I made a batch of misfits blueberry hot biscuits. 

A slight hitch when I realized that until my misfits olive oil, a lovely Greek choice this time, arrives tomorrow, I didn't have enough for the recipe. It takes five tablespoons, the way I do it.  Sooooo, I used the one remaining Tb and used melted butter and a spoonful of plain wholemilk yogurt for the rest of the liquid.  

I needed to bake it a couple of minutes beyond the usual 10 minutes at 425f, and it was really great.  Very light, but holds together enough to pick it up and eat it.  I may do this again. Usually you're careful about subbing in baking, chemistry more delicate than in cooking, but here it worked just fine. They look a little eerie, because of the blue color showing through, but they taste just fiiiiine.

Then, at the dumpster yesterday, a find.  First in ages, since dumpsters around here don't yield much in recent years.  Different population, don't shed things as lightly as previous residents.

And here it is, seen from outside, weighs a ton, some blond wood, very nice looking, pretty new, and I thought it would get a couple of plants up off the floor, always a good thing.  Makes the area look more finished, too.

So that was a Good Dumpster Dive. I know since the winnowing I vowed not to add things in, but in my own defense, I have been moving things out all along, so there's that.

And then, you know how I've been doing that long long arduous project on the spun, plied, knitted, woven vest?  Took months.  And the Robe likewise.  Here's another long arduous project, mainly one about procrastination.  This is one of my favorite thriftie buys, a linen vest, lovely greyish and white stripes, fits a treat.  And that middle button came off several months ago.

This morning, after taking care not to lose the button all this time, it's a special one I can't replace, spending more energy not losing it than dealing with it, I finally got it stitched on.  See, it's the second one down in the picture.

Really, it took literally less than two minutes, including finding needle, thread, and scissors.  So this deserves some sort of Procrastinators' Award.  I repaired two pairs of knitted slippers this week, too, wearing one pair right now. So I guess that was the dress rehearsal for Stitching On The Button.

Hold the applause, please, oh, you are holding it already? Oh well, then.

A Minority of One

 It looks as if the squirrels may have made short work of my few snowdrops.  Here's a lone survivor bravely showing up anyway.

And I made that soup as planned, with the Pinova apple, butternut squash, carrots and cashews.  I seasoned with chicken stock, salt, maharat, ginger, plenty of ginger, none of this one half inch of ginger for me.  A healthy bunch of cubes is what I used. 

Here's the doings all cooking nicely.  As usual, I cooked the spices in the oil to start then added the onions and garlic.  That way they warm up and don't taste harsh at the end.

And it came out nicely.  Thick but not too much so.  Enough for seven bowls.  I always like to have soup in the freezer for when I just don't feel like cooking but do feel like eating.

Finally got out for a walk this afternoon, about half an hour, in the sunshine.  No gray skies today, that always helps. And returned books to the library, exciting expedition. Nowadays it's exciting to drive to the next town.

And my neighbor reported he was taking his friend to collect his two Boston terriers which had been out in this weather lost for two days, and finally had been found, great excitement there.  They rushed off to wherever the dogs were to be collected.  What a relief.  It's terrible to have a lost animal to worry about and wonder whose hands he's in and if he went into traffic and all the catastrophizing that always accompanies pet owning.

My first cat, Annabelle, once took off from my balcony when I was away overnight and I looked for her for weeks.  A little local girl brought me her collar and tags, found on the main road, after a few days, and I thought maybe it was all up for her.  Friends searched the sides of the road, no sign of her.  I decided, after six weeks I had to stop crying and accept her loss and move on.  I heard of two sister cats who were about to be surrendered because their owner had lost job and home, and I offered to take them, and if he wanted visiting privileges, fine.  

So next day Victoria and Boud, yes, my screen name cat, moved in.  They had different names before I renamed them.  Boud is short for Boudicca, British warrior queen, small but fierce.  She was six pounds at her heaviest, where her sister was double that.

I had kept a litter box and food dishes for Annabelle, covered up, just in case, though I thought it was hopeless. The new ladies made themselves at home pretty well, and agreed to eat and drink, so their owner finally left, seeing I had made all ready for them.

That same evening my downstairs neighbor gave me a shout.  I think I just saw your cat!  I heard her earlier. He knew her because she liked to sit on the balcony looking down at him practicing his golf putting.  I ran down and there she was.  Annabelle.  Thin, covered in fleas and ticks, shouting angrily at me, smelling of dryer sheets.  I wondered if she'd been living in laundry rooms.  So I now suddenly went from no cats to three cats.

We sat up all night while I combed fleas and ticks off her until she was able to stop scratching and biting at her fur.  Vet declared her thin but okay, and we went on from there.  She looked so reproachfully at me when she met the others.

Turn my back for six weeks and you move on, huh, faithless human?  I pointed out that she still had her own box and dishes kept for her.  She insisted on acting like an only cat and the others insisted on acting like two fighting sisters.  So I had two families of cats, really.  They all lived to feisty old ages.  Three stripy cats.  And their hapless caregiver.

Pinova apples, butternut squash and future planning

Tonight's supper, to some a side dish, to me a complete meal.  Butternut squash, two Pinova apples, which are great cooked or eaten raw.

Last night I roasted potatoes, to make egg n chips, and I had a rush of brains to the head and realized that since I was putting in potatoes for 30 minutes at 400F I may as well put the butternut squash in its own dish, in there too, to get tender for use today.

So here's the debris as I cube the squash and the apples, ready to saute in olive oil and butter.  I seasoned with nutmeg, cinnamon, cubes of fresh ginger, salt on the squash.

And here you see evidence of even more planning, since half the contents are for tomorrow's carrot, cashew soup, now to be c and c and s and a soup.

Meanwhile, tonight's supper is sauteing merrily, and smelling very nice. When the apples are tender, the squash already being pretty tender, it was ready.

 And so was I. Tomorrow I'll make the cashew etc soup, and hope it will require fewer tools than tonight's supper.  Also less cleanup, this one involving a mopping up operation because when I took out the carrots, I forgot they were in cold water, a way to keep them crisp in the fridge, and ended up with it all over da place.

The cashews are now soaking, so I'm really prepped for making soup tomorrow. And it's Misfits choice day, where I go to the website and pick out next week's produce box.

Cashew carrot potato ginger apple soup

 CCPGA soup. Sounds like a government agency. But it's pretty good.

I added in an apple, thanks to Marilyn who made a sweet potato soup recently and liked the apple addition.

 

I found a lone Yukon gold potato in this week's box, so why not. I remembered to soak the cashews a couple of hours. Carrots and ginger already prepped. Little dash of berbere, not much, it's hot. Dash of lemon at the end. Usual start with onions and garlic, and the chicken stock cubes and salt all cooked in the olive oil first. 

And here's a soup for several days. Dressed up with a sprig of Thai basil.

My neighbor thanks everyone who helped with the plant id, and my neighbor on the other side, Amitha's husband, told me they've bought the house, after renting for several years. This is good news, nice neighbors, lovely kids. 

I've been friends with everyone who's lived there, lucky in our neighbors, and it looks as if it's happening again.

My formatting goes centered after I insert a picture, which I don't like as much as left justified, but oh well. Bear with me!

Addendum to the wildflower question, also soup

 I went out to check again on the foliage and found that the alternating leaf growth wasn't the flower, it was the plant growing next to it. Which I haven't identified. No flowers that I can see. Explaining my confusion. Foliage from one plant, flowers from another doesn't lead to good id.

However when I got a better look at the mystery plant, it began to look a whole lot more like cow parsley, wild chervil. The leaves and flowers radiate from the same spot, off the sides of the main stem. They're not as abundant as in the official pictures, but I think I'm nearer this time. 

Not the plant, the plant next to the plant, if you follow me

Right plant,  trying to show the leaf growth better, not very successfully

Meanwhile back at the stove, carrot, tomato, cashew and ginger soup is waiting for me.

With whole-wheat, white, oat bread. 

Soup and crackers

 Cashew carrot soup, whole-wheat crackers with cashew cheese. A five C lunch.

Before

After

I'm taking the afternoon off now.

Soup's up

 First soup in ages.

 I like to have soup in the freezer, for when I can't think what to cook. This is carrot, cashew, ginger and sweet potato. It used up the rest of the cooked sweet potato, frozen after the patty caper for when I felt like sweet potato again. One helping in the fridge, three in the freezer. It looks well stocked, but only the top third is food. The rest is art materials.

But what I'm thinking about a bit is a convo I had recently with a friend, where I explained I can't recognize people, even people I know well.  I identify them by gesture, or voice or some such cue. But their faces are not recognizable at all.  I have a number of friends, mostly in the art world, with the same issue.  It's a brain function, and there's a huge long Greek name for it, which, translated, simply says difficulty in facial recognition. I'd be a hopeless witness. Heck, I don't even recognize relatives. I am comforted by the knowledge that Oliver Sacks had the same issue.

The other day I saw a man on the street, thought at first it might be my son, then realized he doesn't have a jacket like that! So I didn't greet him, perfect stranger anyway. I even once failed to recognize my mom on a bus. She came and sat beside me, and I was sort of trying to ignore this woman shoving at my elbow.  Wasn't till we both stood to get off at our stop that I realized it was her. She was cracking up laughing about it.  If a longtime friend suddenly puts on a hat, I've had it.  No idea who they are.

Case in point: next door is a Boston terrier -- I have zero difficulty identifying animals, probably because they have constant movement and gesture going, and don't wear hats usually -- anyway, one day a man appeared at my door, holding little Bennie in his arms, a man in a baseball cap.  I instantly thought oh heck, something's happened to the neighbor and they need me to take the dog for a while, I reached out for Bennie, then the man spoke, and I realized he was the neighbor, who never wears a hat.  He'd just picked up the dog so he wouldn't run off while we talked. Ah.

One time I was in one of those cafes that looks out over an open space and a park, with a friend. A woman appeared, far off, with two dogs.  Whereupon, I said, oh, there's Rosie, haven't seen her in a while, and the GS, so I guess that woman must be Barbara.  Friend says, you're not kidding, are you? you identified her by her dogs? Well, yes.

It can be socially awkward when people just don't understand I'm not snubbing them.  People who really know me just call out and identify themselves as if on the phone, very helpful.  The way I would to a blind person rather than make them guess from my voice. But I've got into the habit of looking smiley and friendly all the time, just so people at least don't think I'm mad at them when I walk by!

This is in part a public service announcement. Please don't assume someone is deliberating cutting you.  If a friend just walks by, give them the chance to say hi by doing it first, with your name.  That would be great.  It's difficult at work.  After a while your boss really expects you to be able to pick her out at a meeting, while you're desperately hoping for clues, a word or movement that will tell you which one she is.

I wonder if it's connected to the sense of direction, which I also don't have? I can read maps and get around,but I can never know what compass point I'm heading in, or whether the next turn should be right or left.  The same street, seen from two directions, looks totally different to me. Could be two streets.  I can't just retrace my steps.  My late husband used to get a charge out of going for a walk with me when we lived in a city, round a few corners, then back home, saying, go on, walk in.  I can't walk in there, I don't know who lives there!  We do, you chump, that's our front door!

Not a huge problem. I just hope it isn't taken for dementia!  It's been with me forever. As my son says, when I fret over something I can't remember or got mixed up with, nah, Mom, you've always been this way!