Hay Soup

Every so often, a recipe really speaks to my inner Ritualist, my inner Pagan. Whether it's Cat Cora's Milk and Honey Soup, idea for Imbolc, or something more like Martha Stewart's gorgeous and timeless Yule Log cake, decorated with those genius meringue mushrooms, there's always a recipe out there waiting for me to discover, obsess, and subsequently design a party for.

Today while watching Richard Bangs' Adventures with a Purpose on the PBS sister station Create, I discovered something called "Hay Soup". At the Gasthof Rössli in Escholzmatt, Switzerland, Chef Stefan Weisner creates an organic version of this recipe that sounds mindblowing:

RB: What’s your most famous dish?....
SW: The hay soup.
RB: It’s the hay soup? Well, let’s go make some hay. Let’s go have some soup.
[VO:] He gathers everything himself, and leaves no stone unturned as he roots around the biosphere. His ingredients: ants, coal, stones, snow, hay, silver, gold, moss, ferns, peat, alpine roses, tree bark and...whiskey. His menu seems a demonic offering that lays somewhere between between absurdity and transcendence. The soup even has a hay nest for garnish.
RB: What an explosion of flavor…There are 49 different herbs that are in this hay soup and Stefan picks them personally.


Now I'm on a mission to create this soup, myself. 49 herbs? I can think of maybe 15 offhand! Not to mention it's traditionally served in a small bowl literally nestled in a nest of fresh, green hay. I can't afford to fly to Switzerland right now, much as I would love to.

Hay Soup

Every so often, a recipe really speaks to my inner Ritualist, my inner Pagan. Whether it's Cat Cora's Milk and Honey Soup, idea for Imbolc, or something more like Martha Stewart's gorgeous and timeless Yule Log cake, decorated with those genius meringue mushrooms, there's always a recipe out there waiting for me to discover, obsess, and subsequently design a party for.

Today while watching Richard Bangs' Adventures with a Purpose on the PBS sister station Create, I discovered something called "Hay Soup". At the Gasthof Rössli in Escholzmatt, Switzerland, Chef Stefan Weisner creates an organic version of this recipe that sounds mindblowing:

RB: What’s your most famous dish?....
SW: The hay soup.
RB: It’s the hay soup? Well, let’s go make some hay. Let’s go have some soup.
[VO:] He gathers everything himself, and leaves no stone unturned as he roots around the biosphere. His ingredients: ants, coal, stones, snow, hay, silver, gold, moss, ferns, peat, alpine roses, tree bark and...whiskey. His menu seems a demonic offering that lays somewhere between between absurdity and transcendence. The soup even has a hay nest for garnish.
RB: What an explosion of flavor…There are 49 different herbs that are in this hay soup and Stefan picks them personally.


Now I'm on a mission to create this soup, myself. 49 herbs? I can think of maybe 15 offhand! Not to mention it's traditionally served in a small bowl literally nestled in a nest of fresh, green hay. I can't afford to fly to Switzerland right now, much as I would love to.

What to Eat, What to Eat

Okay, I admit it. I’m a label reader. An affliction my husband didn’t know what to do with when he first met me because he, at the time, ate without discrimination. It became an obsession when I got pregnant, as I systematically began eliminating things from my diet. Artificial sweeteners, dyes, excess sodium, refined flours and sugars, high-fructose corn syrup, nitrates, nitrites, monosodium glutamate, things I couldn’t pronounce. I wouldn’t wash my hair or my body with anything that had sodium laurel sulfate, sodium laureth sulfate, dye, “fragrance”, and things that sounded like a lab technician would be confused by them. I was on a rampage to eat and use only things I recognized, only things Caroline (“Ma”) Ingalls could have gotten her hands on. (We’re choosing to gloss over the part where I subsisted on Ocean Water [see also HFCS & Blue 5] from Sonic for about a month or two…)

These days, anyway, it’s a lot less crazy with me. While I don’t like consuming any of the aforementioned, I still do. Soda often the worst culprit of all. I always swore I’d protect my daughter from foods that weren’t food, from edible science and the chemicals claiming to enrich our lives. I wanted honest food. Food that went into the ground (or the barn) by someone’s hand, was treated simply and kindly, and came back out by someone’s hand, to my plate. Easy, right?

No. Not easy at all. She gets lollipops from the doctor’s office, donuts and candies from well-meaning grandparents, offered sports drinks and soda which she happily consumes, ice creams that come in unnatural shades, the sugary peanut butter her father prefers, and bread that would be better off identified as cake.

It’s up to us as parents to find the happy medium. I have friends who have children who have never eaten anything I’ve yet mentioned and subsist solely on organic produce, local eggs and milk, and grass fed meats. I envy those kids. Their moms treat them well, and if I had someone cooking me all that stuff every day, I’d eat it, too. I consider myself blessed that my daughter loves fruit and vegetables, loves sushi, almond milk and, yeah, local eggs, too. It took her almost three years to even like meat, and she’s still a little iffy about it. My girl eats pretty well, I’m going to admit. And those nights when all she wants are French fries aren’t going to get me worried. It’ll be broccoli tomorrow.

MomTip:  If your kids won’t fall for it, and all you can get them to eat is the macaroni and cheese from the blue box, check out Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook Deceptively Delicious, it’s filled with clever and sneaky ways to hide vegetables in foods your children already adore.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 9/23/2010. Yes, I own my content.

What to Eat, What to Eat

Okay, I admit it. I’m a label reader. An affliction my husband didn’t know what to do with when he first met me because he, at the time, ate without discrimination. It became an obsession when I got pregnant, as I systematically began eliminating things from my diet. Artificial sweeteners, dyes, excess sodium, refined flours and sugars, high-fructose corn syrup, nitrates, nitrites, monosodium glutamate, things I couldn’t pronounce. I wouldn’t wash my hair or my body with anything that had sodium laurel sulfate, sodium laureth sulfate, dye, “fragrance”, and things that sounded like a lab technician would be confused by them. I was on a rampage to eat and use only things I recognized, only things Caroline (“Ma”) Ingalls could have gotten her hands on. (We’re choosing to gloss over the part where I subsisted on Ocean Water [see also HFCS & Blue 5] from Sonic for about a month or two…)

These days, anyway, it’s a lot less crazy with me. While I don’t like consuming any of the aforementioned, I still do. Soda often the worst culprit of all. I always swore I’d protect my daughter from foods that weren’t food, from edible science and the chemicals claiming to enrich our lives. I wanted honest food. Food that went into the ground (or the barn) by someone’s hand, was treated simply and kindly, and came back out by someone’s hand, to my plate. Easy, right?

No. Not easy at all. She gets lollipops from the doctor’s office, donuts and candies from well-meaning grandparents, offered sports drinks and soda which she happily consumes, ice creams that come in unnatural shades, the sugary peanut butter her father prefers, and bread that would be better off identified as cake.

It’s up to us as parents to find the happy medium. I have friends who have children who have never eaten anything I’ve yet mentioned and subsist solely on organic produce, local eggs and milk, and grass fed meats. I envy those kids. Their moms treat them well, and if I had someone cooking me all that stuff every day, I’d eat it, too. I consider myself blessed that my daughter loves fruit and vegetables, loves sushi, almond milk and, yeah, local eggs, too. It took her almost three years to even like meat, and she’s still a little iffy about it. My girl eats pretty well, I’m going to admit. And those nights when all she wants are French fries aren’t going to get me worried. It’ll be broccoli tomorrow.

MomTip:  If your kids won’t fall for it, and all you can get them to eat is the macaroni and cheese from the blue box, check out Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook Deceptively Delicious, it’s filled with clever and sneaky ways to hide vegetables in foods your children already adore.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 9/23/2010. Yes, I own my content.

It's MY*T*FINE

"I think it came from the fifties."

"Do we eat it...?"

"Um."

It's MY*T*FINE

"I think it came from the fifties."

"Do we eat it...?"

"Um."

Free to a Good Home

Hi, my name is Ali, and I am addicted to piles of free junk on the side of the road... I am. It's terrible. I have acquired so many of my belongings from curbside heaps, and today was noooo different. I was driving home from my mother's house and spotted this rad old black school desk at the edge of someone's lawn. I swung the car around faster than you can say abandoned Hot Dog Charlie's and snapped it up. Ro didn't mind having to share the back seat with it all the way home to Troy, and when I got here and got it upstairs (still unsure what I was going to do with it) it sat in the middle of the living room for a couple of hours before it dawned on me.

That's what I should do with that mystery corner in my kitchen.

This odd little corner sandwiched between my refrigerator on one wall and the stove on the other was always a little 'eh' - I had no idea what to do with it, none at all. I wanted some kind of little table or island or something to stick back here so I'd have somewhere to set my laptop while following recipes online and listening to music while I cook.

I nailed it! A new home for all my cookbooks, somewhere to sit and flip through food magazines, a spot for tea in the morning, or maybe a new nest for the cat to sleep in next to the side-heater in the winter? (Hence the little blanket crammed in there.)

We just need a little chair (sort of like that French one I got rid of in Mesa? Shoot.) Then I can sit and read by the window with a cup of tea!

Free to a Good Home

Hi, my name is Ali, and I am addicted to piles of free junk on the side of the road... I am. It's terrible. I have acquired so many of my belongings from curbside heaps, and today was noooo different. I was driving home from my mother's house and spotted this rad old black school desk at the edge of someone's lawn. I swung the car around faster than you can say abandoned Hot Dog Charlie's and snapped it up. Ro didn't mind having to share the back seat with it all the way home to Troy, and when I got here and got it upstairs (still unsure what I was going to do with it) it sat in the middle of the living room for a couple of hours before it dawned on me.

That's what I should do with that mystery corner in my kitchen.

This odd little corner sandwiched between my refrigerator on one wall and the stove on the other was always a little 'eh' - I had no idea what to do with it, none at all. I wanted some kind of little table or island or something to stick back here so I'd have somewhere to set my laptop while following recipes online and listening to music while I cook.

I nailed it! A new home for all my cookbooks, somewhere to sit and flip through food magazines, a spot for tea in the morning, or maybe a new nest for the cat to sleep in next to the side-heater in the winter? (Hence the little blanket crammed in there.)

We just need a little chair (sort of like that French one I got rid of in Mesa? Shoot.) Then I can sit and read by the window with a cup of tea!

The Organic Argument, Again

I have a friend who- Scratch that, I have several friends who just don't get why Organic is better. And that's fine, most people don't really see the worth of spending all that money on something that tastes the same. Normally yeah, I agree, it tastes the same, the Organic oats are just as oaty as the Quaker stuff, the Organic sugar is just as sugary, it's basically all the same- flavor wise. But my argument for Organic dairy is ferocious.

It isn't just the lack of hormones floating around, giving girls early periods leading to breast cancer, or any other estrogen-related malady the press can come up with. (And, if you have a daughter, you might want to look into that.) It isn't just the lack of antibiotics from infected, red, raw and over-milked udders, (but yeah, that's kind of nasty, too, I admit. And having been a nursing mother, I can totally, and literally feel those cows' pain.)

You can taste it. I promise. You can practically taste the grass. The grass! I swear I'm not pulling your leg. And this was the thing I had to convince this one particular friend of. We were chatting online and I mentioned my new French press. I told him that if there's one thing I'm a snob about, it's Organic dairy. Especially for someone who actually enjoys a glass of milk with things like cookies, or a wad of butter slathered on freshly baked bread.

The way Organic dairy transforms your health is going to be one thing, of course, but if I promised you it would transform the way your food tastes, too- would you believe me? Making the Organic argument is a bit like coming out of the hippie-closet for most people who have to convince their friends and family that what they're doing is better for them. But when the difference can be tasted in that first perfectly creamy, fresh sip, that's proof, right?

I challenge you to think of the health of your daughters, I challenge you to think of your own health, but above all else, I challenge you to think of your tastebuds, your morning coffee, your kids' cereal. Next time you're at the grocery store, spend a little more on the Organic and see what it does for you. You might be surprised.


Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 1/26/2011. Yes, I own my content.

The Organic Argument, Again

I have a friend who- Scratch that, I have several friends who just don't get why Organic is better. And that's fine, most people don't really see the worth of spending all that money on something that tastes the same. Normally yeah, I agree, it tastes the same, the Organic oats are just as oaty as the Quaker stuff, the Organic sugar is just as sugary, it's basically all the same- flavor wise. But my argument for Organic dairy is ferocious.

It isn't just the lack of hormones floating around, giving girls early periods leading to breast cancer, or any other estrogen-related malady the press can come up with. (And, if you have a daughter, you might want to look into that.) It isn't just the lack of antibiotics from infected, red, raw and over-milked udders, (but yeah, that's kind of nasty, too, I admit. And having been a nursing mother, I can totally, and literally feel those cows' pain.)

You can taste it. I promise. You can practically taste the grass. The grass! I swear I'm not pulling your leg. And this was the thing I had to convince this one particular friend of. We were chatting online and I mentioned my new French press. I told him that if there's one thing I'm a snob about, it's Organic dairy. Especially for someone who actually enjoys a glass of milk with things like cookies, or a wad of butter slathered on freshly baked bread.

The way Organic dairy transforms your health is going to be one thing, of course, but if I promised you it would transform the way your food tastes, too- would you believe me? Making the Organic argument is a bit like coming out of the hippie-closet for most people who have to convince their friends and family that what they're doing is better for them. But when the difference can be tasted in that first perfectly creamy, fresh sip, that's proof, right?

I challenge you to think of the health of your daughters, I challenge you to think of your own health, but above all else, I challenge you to think of your tastebuds, your morning coffee, your kids' cereal. Next time you're at the grocery store, spend a little more on the Organic and see what it does for you. You might be surprised.


Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 1/26/2011. Yes, I own my content.

Learning to Love the CSA Box

In nature, there are careful balances struck everywhere you look. Between worker bees and their queen, between insects and the rain forest, between trees and the oxygen we breathe. More likely to observe the balance between our schedules and smart phones are we, that it’s easy to forget that we are not apart from that nature, we are a part of it. As we dash into the big-box grocery store we forget that we are the variable that keeps the small farmer producing their precious loads of goods, so fleeting between the first harvest of early spring peas and asparagus, and the late season apples and squashes.

This delicate balance is taking place all around us. Our community farmers are relying on co-ops, farmer’s markets, and their own farm stands to sell their goods. But there is another way they’re branching out. It’s called Community Supported Agriculture, and it’s the most interesting and creative way to give even those in the depths of the concrete jungle a taste of the local countryside.

Started in the 1960’s in Europe and Asia, CSA groups were formed to assuage concerns about food safety and agricultural land management. Since then they have taken off worldwide, offering vegetable boxes, dairy selections, cuts of meat, fresh flowers and more from local producers, available either for pick-up, or home delivery, depending on the farm in question.

Half of the fun of CSA boxes is that they’re a bit of a gamble. You pay the annual dues to the farm, and they supply you with whatever is ripe and in season, once a week. It’s something of a veggie roulette. If there are tomatoes ripe this week, you get tomatoes. If late blight takes out the entire tomato crop, you get no tomatoes this year at all. Nothing can possibly be set in stone, everything is subject to the influence of nature’s mercurial ways.

Committing to a CSA is no small project. You must be willing to remain on your toes, since you never know what you’re going to have on your hands. A friend of mine last year spent the better part of a week churning out huge batches of delicious red sauce because her CSA box was overflowing with juicy tomatoes that she simply couldn’t keep up with. Her freezer was full, and I bet she’s still working her way through it all! CSA cooking requires dedication to grocery runs, a stocked pantry, and a high degree of creativity, above all.

If you’re up to the challenge of on-your-feet cooking, the Christmas-like excitement of finding out what’s in the box, and the warm fuzzies you get from knowing you’re helping sustain your community growers and feed your family the very best, most fresh, and most local the area has to offer, then buying into a CSA is for you. And this summer when you’re at the grocery store? Skip the produce isle. It doesn’t have anything you need, anyway.

Visit LocalHarvest.Org to find out where your local CSA opportunities are, and join the movement.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 3/2011. Yes, I own my content.

Learning to Love the CSA Box

In nature, there are careful balances struck everywhere you look. Between worker bees and their queen, between insects and the rain forest, between trees and the oxygen we breathe. More likely to observe the balance between our schedules and smart phones are we, that it’s easy to forget that we are not apart from that nature, we are a part of it. As we dash into the big-box grocery store we forget that we are the variable that keeps the small farmer producing their precious loads of goods, so fleeting between the first harvest of early spring peas and asparagus, and the late season apples and squashes.

This delicate balance is taking place all around us. Our community farmers are relying on co-ops, farmer’s markets, and their own farm stands to sell their goods. But there is another way they’re branching out. It’s called Community Supported Agriculture, and it’s the most interesting and creative way to give even those in the depths of the concrete jungle a taste of the local countryside.

Started in the 1960’s in Europe and Asia, CSA groups were formed to assuage concerns about food safety and agricultural land management. Since then they have taken off worldwide, offering vegetable boxes, dairy selections, cuts of meat, fresh flowers and more from local producers, available either for pick-up, or home delivery, depending on the farm in question.

Half of the fun of CSA boxes is that they’re a bit of a gamble. You pay the annual dues to the farm, and they supply you with whatever is ripe and in season, once a week. It’s something of a veggie roulette. If there are tomatoes ripe this week, you get tomatoes. If late blight takes out the entire tomato crop, you get no tomatoes this year at all. Nothing can possibly be set in stone, everything is subject to the influence of nature’s mercurial ways.

Committing to a CSA is no small project. You must be willing to remain on your toes, since you never know what you’re going to have on your hands. A friend of mine last year spent the better part of a week churning out huge batches of delicious red sauce because her CSA box was overflowing with juicy tomatoes that she simply couldn’t keep up with. Her freezer was full, and I bet she’s still working her way through it all! CSA cooking requires dedication to grocery runs, a stocked pantry, and a high degree of creativity, above all.

If you’re up to the challenge of on-your-feet cooking, the Christmas-like excitement of finding out what’s in the box, and the warm fuzzies you get from knowing you’re helping sustain your community growers and feed your family the very best, most fresh, and most local the area has to offer, then buying into a CSA is for you. And this summer when you’re at the grocery store? Skip the produce isle. It doesn’t have anything you need, anyway.

Visit LocalHarvest.Org to find out where your local CSA opportunities are, and join the movement.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 3/2011. Yes, I own my content.

Omnivore, Herbivore, Locavore

There was a long time where I had heard the term locavore, but truly had no measure of what it meant. Of course I fully grasped the concept, but to be immersed in that lifestyle was not something I saw myself experiencing any time soon. My husband's really not one for the outdoors, definitely  doesn't like to get his hands dirty. I like to garden, really I do, but my entire harvest, summer of '09, was wiped out by late blight.

I had the opportunity about a year ago to visit some friends of mine in Vermont who are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the greenest folks I know. Really good, old fashioned, salt of the earth kind of people. They live right in the heart of Montpelier, shop at the local co-op, can and brew and have pantries stocked with pickles, jams and mead for the winter.

I was there among ten other friends, all of us taking up space in their old Victorian townhouse, cooking and sharing meals together. One particular afternoon I was invited to come along and ride over to their community garden plot to dig up some things for dinner.

I know what you're thinking, in what modern world are we living that we have to dig up our own dinner? The answer is this one. In the still coolness of the setting sun we trudged through the tangle of rented plots, tomato vines commingling with the blackberries from the next plot over, zucchini canoodling someone else's prized acorn squash. In the seemingly vast field of plants we finally tracked down their plot, and three of us on our hands and knees turned up fistfuls of soil, hunting for the prizes underneath.

I laughed as they handed me potato after potato, which I stacked in my arms (see photo) like newborn babies needing loving warmth. I mean- yes, I hear you, they were only potatoes, but they were our potatoes. Our friends had grown them, tended them lovingly, and now they were unearthing them to share with us. There was such honesty in this work, there was joy as we scrubbed off a single, fat, new carrot under the community tap and then each had a bite. The sweetness on our tongues was the same in our hearts.

Locavorism is a growing trend, as farmer's markets and co-ops gain popularity, becoming trendier and hotter with every passing moment. But it's a trend I can stand to live with, if it turns people's attentions inward and keeps us looking closer to home. Supporting local growers, even being local growers ourselves, enriches our communities and our ties to the land we live on. It's an important lesson for children to learn, too. Where does our food come from?

With any luck, your answer will be 'Here'.

To read more about living life as a Locavore,
check out Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 10/14/2010. Yes, I own my content.

Omnivore, Herbivore, Locavore

There was a long time where I had heard the term locavore, but truly had no measure of what it meant. Of course I fully grasped the concept, but to be immersed in that lifestyle was not something I saw myself experiencing any time soon. My husband's really not one for the outdoors, definitely  doesn't like to get his hands dirty. I like to garden, really I do, but my entire harvest, summer of '09, was wiped out by late blight.

I had the opportunity about a year ago to visit some friends of mine in Vermont who are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the greenest folks I know. Really good, old fashioned, salt of the earth kind of people. They live right in the heart of Montpelier, shop at the local co-op, can and brew and have pantries stocked with pickles, jams and mead for the winter.

I was there among ten other friends, all of us taking up space in their old Victorian townhouse, cooking and sharing meals together. One particular afternoon I was invited to come along and ride over to their community garden plot to dig up some things for dinner.

I know what you're thinking, in what modern world are we living that we have to dig up our own dinner? The answer is this one. In the still coolness of the setting sun we trudged through the tangle of rented plots, tomato vines commingling with the blackberries from the next plot over, zucchini canoodling someone else's prized acorn squash. In the seemingly vast field of plants we finally tracked down their plot, and three of us on our hands and knees turned up fistfuls of soil, hunting for the prizes underneath.

I laughed as they handed me potato after potato, which I stacked in my arms (see photo) like newborn babies needing loving warmth. I mean- yes, I hear you, they were only potatoes, but they were our potatoes. Our friends had grown them, tended them lovingly, and now they were unearthing them to share with us. There was such honesty in this work, there was joy as we scrubbed off a single, fat, new carrot under the community tap and then each had a bite. The sweetness on our tongues was the same in our hearts.

Locavorism is a growing trend, as farmer's markets and co-ops gain popularity, becoming trendier and hotter with every passing moment. But it's a trend I can stand to live with, if it turns people's attentions inward and keeps us looking closer to home. Supporting local growers, even being local growers ourselves, enriches our communities and our ties to the land we live on. It's an important lesson for children to learn, too. Where does our food come from?

With any luck, your answer will be 'Here'.

To read more about living life as a Locavore,
check out Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

Originally written for Kids Fun Plaza magazine on 10/14/2010. Yes, I own my content.

Granola Take 2

Okay I'm probably boring you right now with two granola bar posts but I made the new ones yesterday and wanted to post before I forgot. They were a hit with the kids! I did replace the raisins in the recipe with chocolate chips. My kids just will not eat raisins. You could probably starve them for a week and they still wouldn't touch them.


The recipe calls for quite a bit of oil which isn't a big deal for the kids but for us adults that are watching our calories, there are suggestions in the comments for replacing it with peanut butter, applesauce, etc. to cut down. They are more like dessert than granola bars.

You can find the recipe HERE . Enjoy!!

Granola Take 2

Okay I'm probably boring you right now with two granola bar posts but I made the new ones yesterday and wanted to post before I forgot. They were a hit with the kids! I did replace the raisins in the recipe with chocolate chips. My kids just will not eat raisins. You could probably starve them for a week and they still wouldn't touch them.


The recipe calls for quite a bit of oil which isn't a big deal for the kids but for us adults that are watching our calories, there are suggestions in the comments for replacing it with peanut butter, applesauce, etc. to cut down. They are more like dessert than granola bars.

You can find the recipe HERE . Enjoy!!

Granola Bars

Lately I've been trying to replace much of the prepackaged food we eat with homeade. It tastes better and cuts down on the amount of preservatives the kids eat. Also, it makes me feel dumb when I eat things with ingredients that I can't pronounce. The kids have stolen enough of my brain cells, I don't have many more to spare.



This week I tried these granola bars and while hubby and I loved them, kids weren't too thrilled. They are more of the Kashi variety than the Quaker type. I found another recipe that I hope will be more kid friendly and I'll post that one too assuming it's not a complete disaster.

I can't remember where I found this recipe, I believe the Food Network:

Granola Bars

2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal

1 cup sliced almonds

1 cup shredded coconut, loosely packed (I used less)

1/2 cup toasted wheat germ

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

2/3 cup honey

1/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed

1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 cup chopped dried apricots

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/2 cup mini chocolate chips

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 8x12 baking dish.

2. Toss the oatmeal, almonds and coconut together on a cookie sheet and bake 10-12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned. Transfer the mixture to a large mixing bowl and stir in the wheat germ.

3. Reduce oven temp to 300 degrees.

4. Place the butter, honey, brown sugar, vanilla and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook and stir for a minute, then pour over the toasted oatmeal mixture. Add the chocolate chips, apricots and cranberries and stir well.

5. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan. Wet your fingers and lightly press the mixture evenly into the pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until light golden brown. Cool 2-3 hours before cutting.

* I lightly pressed them down again when they came out of the oven.

* Cook longer for a more crispy bar, shorter for a chewy bar.

Granola Bars

Lately I've been trying to replace much of the prepackaged food we eat with homeade. It tastes better and cuts down on the amount of preservatives the kids eat. Also, it makes me feel dumb when I eat things with ingredients that I can't pronounce. The kids have stolen enough of my brain cells, I don't have many more to spare.



This week I tried these granola bars and while hubby and I loved them, kids weren't too thrilled. They are more of the Kashi variety than the Quaker type. I found another recipe that I hope will be more kid friendly and I'll post that one too assuming it's not a complete disaster.

I can't remember where I found this recipe, I believe the Food Network:

Granola Bars

2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal

1 cup sliced almonds

1 cup shredded coconut, loosely packed (I used less)

1/2 cup toasted wheat germ

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

2/3 cup honey

1/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed

1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 cup chopped dried apricots

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/2 cup mini chocolate chips

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 8x12 baking dish.

2. Toss the oatmeal, almonds and coconut together on a cookie sheet and bake 10-12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned. Transfer the mixture to a large mixing bowl and stir in the wheat germ.

3. Reduce oven temp to 300 degrees.

4. Place the butter, honey, brown sugar, vanilla and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook and stir for a minute, then pour over the toasted oatmeal mixture. Add the chocolate chips, apricots and cranberries and stir well.

5. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan. Wet your fingers and lightly press the mixture evenly into the pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until light golden brown. Cool 2-3 hours before cutting.

* I lightly pressed them down again when they came out of the oven.

* Cook longer for a more crispy bar, shorter for a chewy bar.

Kitchen Garden

I have been longing for a kitchen garden, but have been short on the time required to dig and maintain extensive garden beds. The perfect compromise is to plant up pots with some of the yummies I long for. Now I have tomatoes, lots of lettuce (vital as I am also working on healthy eating and salad has become a staple of my diet), and a plethora of herbs (my passion). There is dill and mint in the above pot.

And a second pot with lemon balm, peppermint, pineapple sage and chamomile. I am looking forward to all the delicious teas and meals I will be creating with this little crop.

Kitchen Garden

I have been longing for a kitchen garden, but have been short on the time required to dig and maintain extensive garden beds. The perfect compromise is to plant up pots with some of the yummies I long for. Now I have tomatoes, lots of lettuce (vital as I am also working on healthy eating and salad has become a staple of my diet), and a plethora of herbs (my passion). There is dill and mint in the above pot.

And a second pot with lemon balm, peppermint, pineapple sage and chamomile. I am looking forward to all the delicious teas and meals I will be creating with this little crop.