What a Mess

Happy day after Thanksgiving! I am still stuffed from all the good food consumed around the family table yesterday. While I had a blast preparing and cooking the food, I DESPISE cleaning up the mess (which is why I rarely do that job!). On Wednesday evening, the kitchen looked like a disaster area.

I behave in the kitchen very much like my mother. After all, she's the one who taught me everything I know about cooking. When we bake together, we have several recipes going at once. All of the ingredients are scattered around and counter space is cluttered with various mixing bowls, whisks, and measuring cups. We acknowledge that it is best to clean up as you go along, but our modus operandi tends to be one of piling things in the sink with the intention of cleaning them later. Before very long, every dish in the kitchen cabinets has made its way to the sink! It's really a mess that no one wants to deal with.

Somehow, Mom convinced my family that the one who cooks doesn't do the cleaning! That job is left for the eaters. That means on most evenings, you'll find me in the kitchen with Mom preparing dinner. Afterwards, Pop makes his way to the kitchen and begins cleaning up our mess. It's funny to hear him complain constantly about how every pan in the kitchen ends up in the sink when we cook. Even though he "complains" a bit, we know that he doesn't mind contributing....as long as the food is good!

Ignored Warning Signs

It happens every time! You notice that something is not quite right.....there's a strange sound coming from the appliance.....the car is not running smoothly.....the drains aren't emptying as normal. Rather than investigate and deal with the problem, you ignore it in hopes that it will remedy itself. You know what? It rarely does!!! Truthfully, the problem tends to escalate over time until you find yourself with a bigger mess (and more expensive one) than you would have if you had addressed the issue when it first happened.

How do I know? We've been dealing with a lot of these issues around here lately. Last week, what began as a sink that wouldn't drain properly turned out to be a MAJOR clog in the drainage for one half of the house.  This week's issue came to a head last night. The refrigerator has been making a "whirring" sound for several months now. Did we call to have someone check it out? Nuh-uh!! This morning, I went to the refrigerator to get ice from the door only to see a note there that the entire thing is OUT. A repairman is to be called later today to see if we can repair it or if it simply has to be replaced.

Why are we like this? We argue that "ignorance is bliss" rather than understanding that it's better to know what's wrong NOW in order to fix things before they reach a crisis stage. I know it's annoying to constantly maintain things, but that's much less stressful than finding yourself in the situation where things have to be corrected or replaced immediately. Oh well.....now it's time to pay the piper and find out what the damage truly is.

Hidden Treasures

My mother's kitchen has always been a place of laughter and joy. It is also a place of learning. On Christmas Eve, Mom and I were doing quite a bit of baking together. Two important ingredients throughout the day were sugar and flour. The sugar is stored in a plastic canister that lives on the top shelf of the cabinet. Flour, on the other hand, is found in various sacks piled on top of a potato bin that sits near the entry to the room. (Lest you get the wrong impression, the potato bin is full.....of pots and pans!  The potatoes are kept in their plastic bag next to the cabinet that stores the sugar.)

While grabbing the sugar, I spied a companion canister and asked Mom why she didn't keep her flour in it so she could clear up some of the clutter in the kitchen. Her response was not what I expected at all. I thought it was because she needed to distinguish between self-rising flour and all-purpose. Her reason was that the canister was probably dirty! Such a simple solution, I thought.  I immediately went to my room to grab the labeling machine so we could establish which flour was in the container. Mom was further surprised when she opened the container and found that the ENTIRE SET (minus the one she was using for the sugar) was inside!

I was a good son (in that moment, at least) and didn't comment on the situation. Inside, however, I was wondering how long the canisters had been hidden away and not doing what they were designed to do. To me, that was such a tragedy.....and explained so much. Mom comments regularly on how little room she has in the kitchen and how she hates that everything is piled around. All the while, she has at least two sets of canisters that are normally empty and not doing their job. (Earlier this year, I did convince her to stash the coffee K-cups in one of the larger containers. I'll take one small victory at a time.)

Since that day of holiday baking, I have found myself returning to those empty canisters. I find myself wondering if there are canisters in my own life that I have not unpacked. Are their skills, dreams, and abilities that I am allowing to waste away in disuse? Have I forgotten that they are there or am I neglecting them because I fear the implications that unpacking them would bring? You see, if Mom were to begin to use all of her canisters as they are intended, it would require some cleaning and changing to occur. She would have to create a new arrangement for things in the kitchen. Some things may have to be combined while other things may need to be tossed out.

The same can be said of my life. Once I begin to unpack the forgotten "canisters", it will require cleaning up the disorganization and admitting to myself, others, and my God that I didn't really have it all together. While the process can be painful, frustrating, and embarrassing, the final result enables me to be more productive and successful while bringing honor to the Kingdom. Lord, remind me of the treasures you have given me that I have packed away and allowed to lie dormant in my heart. Give me the courage to unpack them today and allow them to be put to use in the coming year.

Mom's plastic canister set is still packaged up and holds a quiet place on the back shelf of the cabinet. I'll just quietly keep my eyes open to see when they will be freed up to do what they were meant to do and see the impact it will make.

It's All a Matter of Taste

I love food.  I love the way it looks like a work of art on a plate when carefully crafted.  I greatly enjoy getting my hands into the raw ingredients and following a recipe to the letter to discover what I can make.  If this description was made about most people, they might be considered a "Foodie."  That term is never applied to me though.  I get a different appellation:  picky eater.

I don't really remember where it all began, but I have struggled with food for the majority of my life.  According to family stories, I ate chicken and cheese sandwiches exclusively as a young child, much to my mother's horror.  Doing the best she could as a mother, she began to force me to eat various food items in order to insure I was getting the nutrition I needed.  I clearly recall sitting at the table with a serving of black-eyed peas on my plate that I was told I had to consume.  I tried mixing the peas in creamed potatoes, mashing them into a paste, and quickly following them with a chaser of Coca-Cola.  The result was always the same -- I gagged.  To this day, the sight (and smell) of black-eyed peas makes me seriously ill.

My mother eventually felt sorry for me I suppose and the meal time trauma came to an end.  I took vitamin supplements and we simply hoped that I would grow into a healthy adult.  As an adult, I am aware of how important good nutrition is and have tried to bring various foods into my life.  I have spent hours (literally hours!) sitting in a Wendy's restaurant trying to force myself to eat a hamburger with lettuce and tomato on it.  I got a quarter of it down when I had to admit with tearful eyes that if I made myself eat another bite, I would find myself in a very embarrassing situation that would be quite unappetizing for the restaurant's other patrons.  Meekly, I removed the offending vegetables and tried to finish the sandwich.  The burger was thrown away;  I was so completely disappointed in myself.

What's the problem?  That's a question that I truly wish I could answer.  I despise the looks that I receive when I constantly make alterations to menu orders like a child.  I rarely accept dinner invitations to friends' homes because I fear offending them by not eating what they are serving.  My greater horror is that I will attempt to eat the food served and become ill as a result of my food problem.  That is an insult from which even the most understanding friends may not recover.

If I have to explain my relationship with food, I have to start with texture.  I don't like anything that is mushy in my mouth.  If there is fluid in the food, I immediately go back to the peas from my childhood and gag.  This creates a problem for crisp vegetables as well.  Despite their crunchy beginnings, as they are chewed, the liquids released from them create a sensation that is simply more than I can bear.  It sounds silly to most people....and I have to admit I understand their perspective....but I also know what it is like to live this insanity.

Is it an eating disorder?  Not in a traditional sense certainly, but I do think there are some deep seeded issues at work.  I have contemplated seeking therapy but that even seems foolish.  Why can an adult man not get a grip on his eating habits?  I think I'm even more fearful that therapy would not be able to correct my problems.

As you can imagine, I go ballistic when I witness a parent forcing a child to eat something that they appear to physically detest.  Please understand that I'm not talking about parents who require a "no, thank you" taste.  These are the parents who force children to eat a specific food through their helpless tears in an effort to prove who is in charge.  (We all know the difference between a child throwing a tantrum and a traumatized child.)  Hopefully not every child who suffers through those situations will end up with the unhealthy food relationship that I have, but I shudder at the thought that they might because I know the difficulty it is and the toll it takes on the individual's self esteem.

i'm still not at peace with my eating habits, but I am hoping that things will improve as I gradually try to introduce new flavors to my palate by including vegetables in sauces and meat dishes in my own cooking.  My prayer is that as I become more comfortable handling the ingredients that my mental status will allow me to consume the items.  I'm not ready to run out and grab a salad with you, but I'm hoping that I can sit at a table while you enjoy one and not have to keep moving away to avoid the smell.  One step at a time......

'Tis the Season for Baking

It's been too long since we've talked and I have missed you so much.  Rather than going into a lengthy explanation, I think I will just dive back into the writing.

In my family, the holidays are all about spending time together.  For my mom and me, our time is spent in the kitchen baking all sorts of goodies.  (And we wonder why we all have weight issues!  That's a completely different discussion and something to explore AFTER Christmas.)

Baking is a chance for us to remember treasured memories and make new memories together.  Here are some photos of our recent adventures in the kitchen.

My earliest memories in the kitchen with Mom revolved around cookies.  Traditionally we would bake M&M cookies or chocolate chips.  They were yummy, but not always very pretty.  Several years ago, we bought a cookie shooter from a friend;  this year, we decided to finally open the box and try the gadget out.  For a first try, I think they turned out pretty cute!  Some of the templates were more difficult to use than others (that explains why we have Christmas umbrellas on the plate!).  The cookie is a butter cookie;  nice and firm to hold the shape, but a little lacking in flavor.  Later this week, we're going to try a sugar cookie dough in the shooter to see what we end up with.

Candy making has become my department.  Having perfected my version of cherry divinity, I decided to try my hand at peanut brittle this year.  The recipe was surprisingly easy and wasn't a lot of hassle.  The great thing is that the peanuts didn't scorch, the brittle isn't so hard that you nearly break your teeth when biting, and it's delicious.  My parents and I have nearly eaten all of it;  requests have already been made to make more next week before Christmas!  Definitely a keeper of a recipe.

Since we spend so much time in the kitchen, Mom and I wanted to have some Christmas decorations there as well.  I put the pictures here for two reasons.  I think they turned out cute and I want a memory of my gumdrop tree.  My fingers are STILL sore from shoving all those blasted toothpicks into the Styrofoam tree.  Not sure that I'll make another one of those for some time.  Oh yeah....someone forgot to tell me that NO ONE in my family eats candy canes anymore.....something about acid reflux disease. 

Last, but not least, the elusive Red Velvet Cake.  This was a holiday tradition during my childhood visits to Texas.  The cake is associated with good memories and has become one of my favorite holiday treats.  Several years ago, Mom and I tried our hand at making the cake and it turned out amazingly.  Sadly, the weather was unusually warm and there was no room for the cake in the refrigerator.....so the cream cheese icing went sour!  Since then, this cake has become our annual search for the Holy Grail.  You see, we were foolish and didn't earmark the recipe we enjoyed so much (a common trend in our house);  now each year is a search for the perfect recipe.  This one turned out fine, but doesn't have any cocoa in it.....and it is definitely missing the added kick of flavor.  Oh well, that just means we have to make another one next year!

Hope you are all enjoying your holidays and making memories with your friends and family that will last for years to come.

Kennith