My Belizean Heritage

There is a space inside my Mom that is full and empty.

Seeping through the edges are the

faces...

songs... 

stories...

scents...

humidity...

tears...

joy...

regret...

laughter...

music...

sacrifice...

grace...

and food...

of Belize!

She's an MK (missionary kid)...

She spent several years in Belize with her parents... brother and sister. 

They ministered, evangelized and sang!

They even cut two records!  Here's the cover of one of them.

Mom's in the pink dress... Little sister Sue in the white dress... and Mickey standing behind.

My Grandmom and Grandad are seated in the middle.

Mickey, Pat and Sue were (and still are) quite the trio. 

There is nothing like blood harmony.

I love this picture... it is so... classic.

I was helping Mom edit some of her memories and stories of Belize recently and this sentence sent me on a journey.

"Beans and rice were the most common and delicious food. Of course there were several types of bananas, breadfruit,and chicken fixed with Recado, a special blend of seasonings I still crave."

Surely Recado (aka Ricardo, Recardo) could be found online. 

So... I Googled... I found... I purchased!

If you're curious and want to order your own... www.bluefield-prod.com

For Easter Grandmom coached me through the preparation of...

Belizean style beans and rice... chicken "stew" with Recado... banana and cabbage slaw

 (I know... sounds weird but it was actually one of my favorite parts of the meal)...

 and fried plantains.

She's wearing plastic gloves because the red color of the Recado spice will stain your hands! So if you handle it... you've been warned.

You take the spice (it looks sort of like a bouillon block but softer) and mix it with a little vinegar (just until it is a thick paste).

Then you rub the chicken generously with the red Recado mixture and let it sit for at least 20 minutes before throwing it into the frying pan. 

(A cast iron skillet works best Grandmom says, but we didn't have one...

so Teflon did pretty well in a pinch.)

We even got husband into the kitchen for some moments of heavy lifting.
I just love a man with a hot pad!

So what does Recado taste like? 

It's not spicy... like you might imagine judging it by it's fiery red color. 

It is more smokey... maybe paprika in nature.  I did a little research and found that it is made from the annatto seed. 

Mom says it tasted like she remembered... so mission accomplished.

It was down home and rich and the combination of all the items we put on the table was at the same time familiar... and exotic.  I liked it.  I'll make it again.

The best part though, was cooking with Grandmom. 

Listening to the stories and memories...

Reminiscing while the kitchen filled up with fragrance from another life.

Belize is a ghost for me too, certainly not in the same way as it is for those who lived there... but I feel it sometimes.  Somewhere deep in my gut... is a mutated gene inherited from Mom.  It forms the shape of a small country.  It is a warm glowing seed that I don't fully understand. I visited once when I was in college.  One of the souls they loved there... the Other Brother Wright... picked me up and showed me around.  He took me through the rooms where the Wright Family had poured out ministry and song. 

Beautiful ebony faces sang to me as if I was a princess from another land... and I wept.

I was home... and yet I was not.

This is the ache Mom feels... multiplied eternally.

It was so strange... to return to a place I had never been before.  

It's Snowing!

Every year...

in April... sometimes May

it snows.

It isn't North Wind... or Jack Frost who brings the white...

It isn't chilly... or cold... or even wet.

But it is this great lady which blankets my lawn with her downy offspring. 

The Texas Cottonwood.

Husband gets grumpy.

Everyone starts sneezing.

It gums up the mower.

But I always smile when I see her first fluffy refugee flying across my yard.

She is majestic... and lovely.

At times it looks as if a giant pillow fight has taken place on the grass...

bits of her pollen filling in the low places...

rolling down the roof in tiny soundless avalanches of poof.

If you look closely here... you can see them flying... little white specks... orbs... dancing free.

Littering the lawn...

Tiny puffs poised in the sunlight...

Ready to take flight with the slightest motion.

I have a co-conspirator!
A compatriot who joys in her messy shedding... delights in the simplicity of it... her pirouettes of whimsy... flecking the air with melodies of movement. 
Her daughters harmonize with the laughter of my boy. 

I don't care what anyone says... I love that tree.

And now I am not the only one.

I have swayed a Cottonwood Rebel to my side!

The "Dirt" on Husband

Husband has dirt in his blood.  He said he never would when we were dating.  He said he'd never be a farmer (although the "good story" he wrote when he was 8 hinted otherwise).
It hangs on our wall now... as it did on his grandparent's wall for many years. 
 

He "gets it honest"...
His daddy, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all turned soil. 

Farming is a tough occupation. It's unpredictable.  Physically demanding. Financially risky. The weather is finicky.  Machinery breaks down.  The hours are long.  Injury is lurking...
And yet... it fills husband's cup. 

He comes home each night dirty and greasy... lovely and spent.  The cologne of soil... and grease... and earth cling to him... and I savor it.  His days are wrapped in sunshine... rain... mud... weather forecasts... planning and shifting plans... livestock that depend on him... sowing seeds... and harvesting their offspring... divided and multiplied.   

These are the "girls" I share him with...

Activities as old as time... souped up with a little John Deere Green horsepower and modern day technology. 

Tools lined up... everything in it's place.

(This would explain why my purse makes him nauseous!)

The cycling of the seasons has deeper meaning for us than for most...
a "chance of thunderstorms" hold weight much greater than whether my picnic will be spoiled or not.

In admiration I watch those perfectly straight rows of emerald sprouts look out upon this world and I am overwhelmed by the beauty of it... the field itself...
and the way it nourishes husband. 

Winter wheat morphs the field into a giant Chia pet!

The black ground is watered with his sweat... and sometimes blood and tears. 
Roots grow deep into this ancestral land.

Alongside the wheat and corn... grow faith and trust and patience and hope. 
God whispers in the wind... and shouts from the treetops.

All that dirty blood running through his veins... and light... and air. 
Cleansing and right.
He is more... and so am I.

I'm so glad he changed his mind about this farming thing.

Mission Kids in the Kitchen

I'm done.

I have heard the dreaded words, "What's for dinner?" one too many times...

Upon my response, "spaghetti... or meatloaf... or fajitas..."

I repeatedly got one of the following:

"Ewwwwe, I don't like that."

"My teeth hurt and I can't eat that tonight."

"My throat hurts..."

"My stomach hurts..."

"Can I just make myself a macaroni bowl?"

The answer to all of these is the same... "No you can't have something else... This isn't a restaurant. You can eat what I made or have some bread."

Note: Bread alleviates any possible fragments of guilt I might encounter for forcing my children to bed with "a sore throat/stomachache, etc" and "no dinner".

So... a colleague at work brought me an article from the New York Times written by Leslie Kaufman titled "My Sons, the Sous-Chefs" about a Mom with a brilliant idea...

Enlist the little "ungrateful imps"...

Oops I mean "snot dragons"...

I meant to say "darling children" to offer their own contributions in the kitchen.

So last week we started

"Mission Kids in the Kitchen"

(imagine that spoken by James Earle Jones with a Star Wars type echo).

Here's the plan:

1) Each child (2 in my case) chooses a meal that they would like to eat in the coming week.

(Mom or Dad gets to assist with suggesting side items so that a well rounded meal is achieved... No one wants to end up with macaroni, rice and potatoes people!)

2) We grocery shop for the week every Sunday afternoon, so the menu must be picked by then so we can stock the pantry with the needed ingredients on Sunday.

3)  On the evening of the chosen meal... the child who made the selection... helps with meal preparation.  From start to finish.

4) After dinner the opposite child helps the adult with clean up.

Here's how it looked at my house this week:

Monday was Conner's night to cook. He's 13.

His meal of choice was Fettuccine Alfredo from scratch. 

He located a recipe from the internet.

He served mushrooms, shrimp and asparagus on the side (so anti-mushroom members of the household) could have their meal fungi free. We also made some Texas Toast. 

He measured.

He salted.

He delivered.

Brother had KP Duty!

Tuesday (Valentine's Day) was Logan's night to cook. He's 8.

His chosen meal was a Rachael Ray recipe called Mini Cheeseburger Pizzas (Italian Style). He found his recipe in one of my cookbooks.

His side dishes were strawberries, grapes and chips.

He cut pizza crust into circles with a cookie cutter.

He sauced. 

He delivered.

And big brother was in charge of clean up.

Lesson Learned?

I asked both boys what 3 things they had learned...

Conner

1) Add a "little" before you add a "lot". 

2) Lemon juice is probably the perfect zing to everything.

3) If you're baking bread, check it constantly.

Logan

1) Sometimes you can use a lot of seasonings.

2) You can be really creative when you're cooking.

3) It's fun.

Well... I have to say I'm pretty pleased with those conclusions!

I also have to say that I had fun too! It required a little more planning and dinner took a little longer to prepare... but it was well worth it! 

There was one very satisfying moment when Husband popped into the kitchen on Conner's Chef Night and asked, "What's for dinner?"  When Conner proudly stated "Fettuccine Alfredo"... husband promptly began whining loudly... and proclaimed that he didn't like Fettuccine Alfredo and declared he was going to cook himself a macaroni bowl instead".  There was a MOMENT of shock on the faces of my children, and then the sudden realization that he was acting... just... like... them.  Hmm... Made them think a little.  Thanks hon!
 

Note: I do realize I'm still in the "honeymoon" period of this little experiment... and future resistance to my secret plan to groom one of my children into chef material is likely... but I am counting this as a "WIN"! 

Bring on next week's menu!

Conner: Asian Honey Chicken

Logan: Mom's Chicken Spaghetti

 

Once Upon a Floor

Once upon a time there was a floor... in a little house... in the kitchen.

This is the story of how it was transformed to this...

from this...

In 1994 a newly married couple (me and Husband) moved into a little white abode and discovered...


10-ft ceilings!

2 fireplaces! 

A grand front porch! 

Old windows and door frames!

Generous rooms to fill with our dreams!

And... a rather alarming sight upon our kitchen floor.

It was... a carpet of many colors.

My husband said, "It looks like rows and rows of ants marching in lines while carrying different colored flags." 

That pretty much sums it up.

Underneath the marching rainbow ants we found squares of 1950's linoleum.

You know the variety... taupe with little flecks of turquoise, yellow, white and black.
Oh wait... I think the black is just dirt.

Husband was convinced that a "hard" floor of any type would be cold and well... hard. 
So we opted for carpet.  The first installation was pale blue. Several years later it was NASTY... remember we're talking CARPET in a KITCHEN.

So we replaced it with a nice shade of green.

Once again time took its toll... the green wasn't so nice anymore and we began making funeral arrangements for the quickly fading mass of green.

I began to think of options.  Carpet cremation was top of the list.

Husband hadn't changed his view... but 18 years had passed and the reality of CARPET in the KITCHEN had at least put a chink in his armor. (insert evil laugh here)

What I really wanted was original wood flooring, but without the mess, expense, or stress of installing and refurbishing a perfectly beautiful pristine formal wood flooring.  Don't get me wrong... I LOVE the look of a pristine glossy oak floor... but my reality does not coexist with this level of perfection.

The horror stories I have heard of refinishing a wood floor also sent chills down my spine!  Dust in the whole house... the sanding process creating hills and valleys in the surface... fumes... disaster... and certain destruction and mayhem!

Then... I had an epiphany!

Wood Floors + Paint

If I install old reclaimed wood floors then I could just do a light sanding to take the sheen of varnish off the top and roll on some black paint... then scuff it up... distress it... If it got too distressed and beat up... I could just slap a new coat of paint on!

Paint solves everything!

I had 2 things working in my favor:

1) I have a Colorado Dad who knows how to lay flooring.

2) I found a company in Dallas who rescues things from old houses ready for demolition and salvages... door knobs and mantles and toilets and cabinets... and of course wood floors.  They had MORE than enough square footage for my kitchen at $1.87 a square foot! That is a bargain folks! Some of my other options were up to $12 a square foot! 

I had one more obstacle... Husband.

I called ready to go into all the gory details.

You know what he said?

"Honey, just do it"

Seriously?

I love that man.

I enlisted the moral support of 2 friends from work and we spent our lunch hour driving over to the Discount Home Warehouse (a terribly boring name for a magical place filled with objects that have lived previous lives). I then proceeded to sweet talk/bully the proprietor into helping me load 150 square feet of flooring into my mini-van. 

You can visit this warehouse at http://www.dhwsalvage.com/... but trust me the website doesn't do it justice!  If you're in the DFW area and love old things... it's worth your time to stop and look at their ever changing inventory.

So the big day came!  I took a day off from work, sent the kids off to school and tore in! Colorado Dad and Husband pulled up the green fuzzy mass to reveal purple padding.

 

We set up a carpentry workshop on the front porch...

Measured twice (or three times)... and cut once!

And I happily watched the new (old) floor begin to emerge.

I'd like to say the transformation included nothing except a magical wand... but in reality it took four of us (me, Husband, Colorado Mom and Dad) every minute from dawn...
til the clock struck midnight...
to get the full installation accomplished. 
Because we were using reclaimed wood... some of the pieces already had been cut on one end... so we had to sort the wood into 3 sections. 

• Northerners (these were planks cut on the "Northern" end)

• Southerners (planks cut on the Southern end)

• Pacifists (planks that had not been previously cut)

We needed to use as many planks as possible without making additional cuts... so it was definitely a puzzle.  In the end we didn't have near enough Southerners, so some of the Pacifists had to be persuaded over the Mason Dixon Line.

The end result was amazing!

Once the floor was installed... it was so beautiful!  The thought of haphazardly rolling on black paint made me pause to consider other possibilities.  I still didn't want a "perfect" high gloss wood floor... plus with pine cabinets there was waaaaayy too much wood going on. 

Then... a compromise began to form in my mind... paint still colored my vision... but with some of the floor showing through. 

With a hand sander I took off the "shine" from the top of the floor... got out my chalk and started sketching in a design. I taped an offset "square" in the middle of the room where I planned to paint in a "monogram".   In the image below you can see the taped area...the sketching in chalk and the first few painted black swirls going in.

Next I traced the chalk lines with black paint. Once the swirls were complete, I then shaded inside some of the curves to create a look of age and depth.

Here is a view from the other direction.

The contrast was a little too dramatic (even for me)... so I diverted from my original plan and covered the entire floor (except for that middle area where the monogram was going to be placed) and stained it with a darker hue.  I personally like the stain over the black paint because, again it adds "age" and layers.

This was really the step I had not wanted to get into... because the stain was quite smelly and even though it was "dry" by the morning... it required a 72 hour drying period before you could move to the next step.The fumes were quite bad and that first morning I woke up with a fierce headache after a night of fitful dreams.  I opened doors, windows and turned the fans up on high... definitely need some ventilation boys and girls... if you're going to try this at your own home.

Now... Time for the monogram!

Since we live on a farm and often have wheat in the field surrounding our home... I decided to start with some wheat sprigs... not sure sprigs is the technical term... but you get the idea.

Next I taped off the "M" for Merrifield. 
The stars and stripes paper plate is acting as my palette.

And here's the final product.  

At the very end I brushed back over the entire surface with a satin water based varnish (3 coats with plenty of drying time in between). I chose this finish because I didn't want the high gloss look.  I have to say I love the final result. 
It is imperfect, artistic and different than anything I've ever seen.
I don't excessively worry about scuffing it up... and if it gets some wear and tear so much the better.

Me and my new... old... swirled... painted... shabby... gaudy... elegant... wood floor
are living happily ever after!

One more note about my Prince Charming. 

He actually admits that he kind of likes the new floor... and has been caught (on more than one occasion) sliding  across the surface in his stocking feet. 

So it really is a happy ending!  Or actually a happy beginning...

Tricky in the Kitchen: Take 1

~ Elevate the Humble Cake Mix ~

1) Mayo in the Mix: Add 1 heaping tablespoon of full-fat Mayo. 
I know it sounds weird... but mayo is really just "emulsified oil". 
Think of it as a rocket booster to the oil or butter already in the recipe. 

2) Vanilla makes everything better!
Add 1 teaspoon vanilla extract to the mix. 
When aded to almost any cake mix vanilla adds a little "extra"...
whether white, yellow, strawberry or chocolate...
vanilla can add another layer to the flavor. 

3) Beat the Buzzer! Do NOT overcook the cake! 
A cake will continue to cook for a few minutes once it is removed from the oven... so take it out just a minute or two before it is really "done" so that not one drop of extra moisture is lost.

One bite... and you'll thank me!!