When I am in my mind,
My mind gives me what it has:
When I am in my heart
My heart gives me what it is:
Whatever I’m doing, I’m in that moment and I’m doing it. The rest of the world’s lost. If I’m cooking some food or making soup, I want it to be lovely. If not, what’s the point of doing it?
~ Sade Adu
I have to warn you before you continue that if you don’t care for salty language, you will not want to read the recipe for this soup. It’s been adjusted (censored) somewhat, but there’s no doubt about the words being used.
Now that I’ve got the disclaimer out of the way… For this week’s soup, I used a recipe from The Thug Kitchen cookbook. It’s one of my favorite vegan cookbooks because, frankly, the salty language peppered throughout makes me laugh. I’m childish that way. The recipes are fantastic, too. Everything I’ve made from Thug Kitchen has been delicious.
Today I made their Warm The F*ck Up Minestrone. Normally I would not follow a recipe for minestrone soup. It is a clean-out-the-fridge type of soup that I intuitively make based on what is available and what needs to be cooked. However, one of the purposes of this exercise in Sunday soup making is to use the recipes I have on hand. The Thug Kitchen minestrone is seasoned differently than mine and I have to tell ya, it’s wonderful. I used fresh rosemary from my garden, and frozen basil from last year’s vegetable garden. The recipe calls for cabbage or kale. I had both and they needed to be cooked so in the pot they went. I also added a sweet potato which is not on the list of ingredients. It’s minestrone. There are no rules.
If you’d like to try your hand and soup pot at this recipe, you can find it here. If you do try it, let me know what you think.
Love is a force that connects us to every strand of the universe, an unconditional state that characterizes human nature, a form of knowledge that is always there for us if only we can open ourselves to it.
~Emily H. Sell
The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.
~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
The roast turkey carries with it, in its chubby hold, a sizable portion of our primitive and pagan luggage.
Primitive and pagan? Us? We of the laser, we of the microchip, we of the Union Theological Seminary and Time magazine? Of course. At least twice a year, do not millions upon millions of us cybernetic Christians and fax machine Jews participate in a ritual, a highly stylized ceremony that takes place around a large dead bird?
And is not this animal sacrificed, as in days of yore, to catch the attention of a divine spirit, to show gratitude for blessings bestowed, and to petition for blessings coveted?
The turkey, slain, slowly cooked over our gas or electric fires, is the central figure at our holy feast. It is the totem animal that brings our tribe together.
~ Tom Robbins, Skinny Legs and All
What advice do I tell my grandson?
I listen to him.
~ Roy Haynes
After a lovely trip on the train on Sunday, I am back at Breezy Acres here in the Bogs. Little Wookie and I are getting reacquainted. I might be biased but I swear he is the most adorable boy in the world.
I have taken a couple of walks around the pond, but most of my time is spent with Little Wookie. Blog time is mostly nonexistent. I do peek in on you now and then, leaving a Like behind.
I had forgotten how wonderfully exhausting caring for an almost brand new baby can be. Just looking at his cute little face is better than a cup of coffee when it comes to getting reenergized, and playtime, when Little Wookie is smiling and laughing, is one of the most wonderful, magical things in the world.
At the end of the day, I sleep better than I have in years.
The little dude will probably wake up from his morning catnap soon.
Be good, be kind, be loving. Just Be.