Cook One Thing (and my fave grill rub)

 

One of my friends is a pretty great cook. One day I asked her what she was making for supper. "Oh, I'm so over that," she answered. I have to agree. After all these years of cooking for teenagers and athletes, I am kind of done. Because cooking is so much work. You have to procure the food, clean it, chop it, cook it, present it. And then you have to clean up the mess you just made. It can be a thankless job.

But here's the thing. We still have to eat. I, for one, get hungry. 

Awhile ago, I realized that the meals that went over the best, that resulted in the most enjoyment for the least amount of resentment, were the ones in which I made one thing. So if I made a grand dessert, we ate hot dogs. If I spent all afternoon making my mom's amazing potato salad, then it went alongside something very easy, such as hamburgers (which my husband grills) or this Memphis Shake chicken.

It's still a ton of work to feed a family. Even if you only make one thing, I can assure you, many other things will need attention. But if you can slice a watermelon, chop some veggies, and throw together a salad without  feeling like a martyr, then tell yourself firmly that you are still just making One Thing. And enjoy every bite.

 The rub goes on the chicken about 15 min. before grilling.

 After about 40 minutes on the grill, the chicken was  perfect.

Memphis Shake chicken, served with bottled barbeque sauce.

On the side: our yellow beans (with some chard stems for color), sliced cucumbers, grated zucchini fried in olive oil. 

You might argue that the zucchini is work. But it was left over from a chocolate zucchini cake, so it wasn't work. Adding bacon, which would have made it amazing, would have been work.

Memphis Shake Rub

1/4 cup paprika

3 Tb. brown sugar

2 Tb. dried oregano

2 Tb. mustard powder

1 Tb. spicy chili powder

2 Tb. sea salt

1 tsp. celery salt

Combine ingredients, keep in lidded jar.

To make grilled chicken:

Chicken thighs, as many as you need. 

Take the skin off the thighs, cutting away extra skin and fat with kitchen shears or scissors

Sprinkle the Shake over each thigh, using about 1 Tb. per piece of chicken

Allow chicken to rest at room temperature for about 15 min.

Heat grill for about 10 min.

Over medium-low heat, grill chicken pieces shake-side up for about 20 minutes.

Turn chicken over, grill on other side for about 10 minutes, then test with meat thermometer.
Length of grilling time will depend on how hot your grill is, and how thick your chicken pieces are.

When done, chicken should register 170 degrees on a meat thermometer. The meal in these photos took about 40 minutes, because I was alone with the baby and couldn't get outside to check on it. It turned out fine though.

It's delicious. Hope you like it too!

(Hint: if you can get to the Anoka co-op, that's my favorite place to buy bulk spices. Much cheaper than a regular grocery store)

 

Overwhelmed (A Garden in August)

 Clipping dead leaves off the tomatoes.

My garden. At this point in the summer, everything about it is too much for me. The weeds grow faster than I can pull them, and even the veggies seem like homework. I have to check on them every day.

In the spring, before Julia's open house, Nate tilled the garden and the girls planted it.
We kept our heirloom seeds from last year, so we're finally starting to save some money.
Let me tell you, gardening can get expensive. Sometimes I wonder why we have a garden. I think part of it is guilt. Since we have this huge yard, we'd better grow something useful on it. Because I'd feel much happier just tending my flowerbeds.

I looked for a poem that would describe this garden, and oh my, poems are so dark these days! None of them summed up my real, messy, beautiful, growing garden.
So I had to write my own poem. Not easy with a teething baby who gets into everything, but here it is.

August Warfare

A fresh day. Ready weapons
to rejoin the battlefield.
I'll need a hoe, garden shears,
and two strong persistent hands.

The troops take some convincing
before they join my unit.
Eventually, we three
struggle out to the garden.
The baby acts as captain.
Stroller out front, all-terrain
shoves a swath towards action.

Here we are, surprised again
by the quickness of the change.
In two days of heat and rain,
the enemy has gained ground.

"Do you want to pick beans, or
do you want to weed and hoe?"
I ask my daughter. "Well beans!"
she answers, and I, kneeling,
begin to dig and yank weeds.

In minutes, the colander
is heaped with our spoils of war.
The baby munches peapods.
Looks like we're victorious.

I fling a final weed clump
Far into wild-growth borders,
throwing out a dare to all
foes of order and bounty.

(I wrote this in syllabic measure, seven syllables per line).

 Walking to the garden. The cement raised part holds early crops and tomatoes, 

the bed behind it holds squash, pumpkins and cukes.

 A pretty pea blossom.

I weed around the beets.

 Peas, stealthily hiding in a web of green.

Harvest time!

I Will Praise

 Our gift to Mabel: a flannel blanket and a silver spoon.

We visited a new baby yesterday.
I don't know if any baby I know has been so covered in prayer,
so loved, so much on the minds of many people,
as this little girl.
This is the baby whose mama made my colorful quilt.
You can read my post about her brother here.

When we got to the hospital and I held her in my arms,
of course I cried.
Her parents were calm and happy and tired,
and her mama told me a sweet story.
When she had Mabel, it was ten o'clock at night,
and she and her husband spent most of the night
cuddling their new baby.
But around five a.m., Liz got so tired that she placed Mabel in her isolette
so she could catch some sleep.
She thinks the baby just lay there for a long time, thinking about things.
After half an hour, furious cries erupted from the isolette.
Enough was enough, said Mabel.
Time for more cuddling.

On our drive to visit this little one,
we listened to hymns by Fernando Ortega.
I heard these lines as though for the first time:
"For the Lord our God He is strong to save,
from the arms of death,
from the deepest grave.
And He gave us life in His perfect will
and by His own grace I will praise Him still."

What a timely song.
It reminded me of the power of praise,
even during terrible loss,
and the promise that we have beyond the grave.

Yesterday was a day to celebrate life.
Such an easy day to give praise!
Thank you Jesus for Mabel Grace.
Bless her and keep her all the days of her life.
May she live to bring you glory.

Malachi and his doll, Sadie Jane.

We only held him near Mabel for a moment,

because I was nervous he would think she was Sadie Jane

and jab her in the eye!

Listen to the hymn by Fernando Ortega here.

Everything Changes

It doesn't help that he's almost twenty-two.
I'm still sad that this son just moved out of our house,
possibly for the last time
But see that paper pinned to the bulletin board, on the wall behind him?
That's his acceptance to medical school.
And on days I've been cranky or out of sorts,
all I had to do was look at it, or think about it,
and I'd be suffused with joy and gratitude.
I told him all along,
You're under grace and favor.
So with grace and favor
we sent him off, and my husband prayed not only for his safety and protection,
and for ability to do the work,
but that he would seek the Lord continually.

 Sorry, Dad, I don't think he can help you with your back.

He has an old friend from kindergarten who wants to be a doctor, too.
Maybe that's what put the thought in his mind.
I used to tell him, when he was a little boy,
that he'd make a good doctor.
He showed an affinity for people and an aptitude for school.
But did we push him to do this?
No, he pushed himself.
It's going to be a tough road ahead.
I say to him now,
I have no advice for you as far as study habits go.

I hope he has time for sleep, for exercise,
for moments of holy rest.
God encompasses time,
so with Him there is always enough.
I want my son to experience that.
Plenty of time.
It would be a miracle.

At Julia's baptism this last weekend.

What I'm going to miss is the dailiness of seeing him.

When I got up with the baby, Caleb and I often chatted in the kitchen 

while he ate breakfast.

No more early-morning chats.

No more gone-in-a-day pies.

No more Malachi welcoming him home, both of them smiling hugely.

Writing this makes me sigh,

and I have to remember how exciting all of it is.

I am brimming with gratitude for each of our kids.

Part of the gratitude is that they grow up.

They grow up!

And then they have to go away,

and I'm going to have to get used to that.

A Blessing

For as the days of a tree,

so will be the days of my people;

my chosen ones will long enjoy

the works of their hands.

They will not toil in vain

or bear children doomed to misfortune;

for they will be a people blessed by the LORD,

they and their descendants with them.

Before they call I will answer;

while they are still speaking I will hear.

Isaiah 65:22-24