hopeful

I taught myself to knit in the fall of 1997. I was in India on study abroad and, after three months spent with a large group of American students at a monastery in Bodh Gaya, found myself alone and very cold in the mountain town of Darjeeling for the independent study portion of the semester. After months of intense communal living, the solitude was somewhat comforting, and when I came across a shop that sold yarn and needles, I picked up a few supplies. A college friend had shown me the basics prior to this, so I was easily able to get started. I knit a scarf for my mother, who I was missing, and another for my then boyfriend, who I was missing as well. When it came time to cast off, I toted my project down to the front desk of the Tibetan guest house where I was staying and, without a common language, asked the Tibetan woman there who was often knitting to show me how. I can see her smile so clearly in my mind.


When I decided to join the Peace Corps a year and a half later, I once again found myself alone and very, very, very, very cold (I was assigned to northern Mongolia). I knit a lot. I mean like a crazy lot - I made my friends sweaters and scarves, mittens and hats. I constantly wrote home asking for more yarn, and I collected yarn on countryside visits (which is why I still have six skeins of scratchy camel wool under my bed waiting for a project). I mastered the art of knitting while reading at the same time, so I'd sit by my wood stove with needles in hand and a book balanced on my knees while outside temperatures hovered around -40 degrees. I spent months and months like this.

When I reflect retrospectively on my fifteen year relationship with yarn and needles, there's a theme that runs throughout; I seldom knit for myself. For me, knitting has always been a meditative act; there is something about the rhythm of moving two sticks and a length of yarn together that breeds a reflective quiet in my mind. I like to think of each stitch as a thought for the recipient, be it a distant friend or a soon-to-be-born baby. Okay, that is a bit overstated: there are plenty of times when I am on a timeline and just want the darn thing to be finished...but I'd like to think that the majority of my gifted projects are knit up with tiny little wishes worked into the stitches.

This long-winded introduction is to bring you up to date with my thoughts as of late. My wonderful and amazing mother had gastric bypass surgery last week, and I knew months ago that I wanted to make her an afghan to have around the house during her recovery. That does not mean that I had the wits about me to get started on a afghan months ago, however, so when it suddenly got to be January, I found myself frantically looking for a quick pattern online. Two words. Big needles. Really stinking big needles. This Lion Brand pattern claims to be a six hour project. I don't know if I finished it in six hours since I don't think I've had six consecutive hours to knit since I got home from Mongolia. But I can decisively report that it was really fast, really easy, and super cozy. I particularly like the heft of the blanket - the four strands of yarn held together lend a lot of weight to it. As a bonus, it kept my knees warm while I worked on it.

My mom is recovering beautifully, and it was an absolute joy to present her with this blanket last weekend. I like to think of her covered in my stitch thoughts as her body figures out its many changes..and I am glad, on these cold winter days, that she is warm.

Our house has been overtaken by bugs -- not the six legged variety, but the itty bitty kind that manifest as aches, chills, fevers, nausea, coughs, headaches, and runny noses. No one is super sick, but everyone is a little bit sick with a whole spectrum of different symptoms. It was therefore not difficult to declare this chilly Saturday a stay-at-home-and-take-it-easy kind of Saturday. It's 5 pm and the boys are still in their pajamas, and I think we're all feeling a little stronger for the R and R.

With the boys deeply entranced in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (the latest obsession around here - they spend most of their days chasing each other with chopstick wands), I found myself on Pinterest whilst half watching the film. As a result, I added a dozen projects to my sewing and knitting boards, found a DIY washing machine cleaner that I am presently testing out, and decided to make a healing pot of chicken noodle soup.

I didn't change too much about the original recipe, save for the addition of roasted garlic. It just seemed that a soup commissioned with eradicating various and sundry bugs from the house should have some garlic in it, and since I had time while the stock simmered, I threw a handful of cloves into the oven to roast. Suffice it to say, the house smells amazing.

With wishes of health from my family to yours...



Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup
Adapted from Simply Scratch

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To begin, prep the chicken: dice the white and dark meat and put it in one bowl, throw the bones and skin and little leftover pieces into a large stock pot. Place the diced chicken in the refrigerator for later. You should have about 2 cups.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Brown the chicken parts in the stock pot over medium high for a few minutes. Then throw in the roughly chopped carrot, celery, onion, parsley, thyme, bay leaf and peppercorns. Pour in 12 cups of water and scrape up any browned bits that are on the bottom of the pot. Cover and bring up to a simmer with the lid on, for one hour and thirty minutes.

Place the unpeeled garlic cloves on a square of aluminum foil. Top with the olive oil and wrap, lifting and twisting the corners to form a small packet. Roast at 450 degrees for 15-20 minutes, until soft. Set aside to cool.

After the hour and a half is up, drain the stock through a strainer into another large pot. Discard the remaining bones/vegetables.

Bring the stock back up to a simmer and add in the two diced carrots, celery and onions. Add in the teaspoon of kosher salt, the half teaspoon of black pepper and the chopped thyme. Squeeze the garlic out of the the skins into the soup. Cover and let simmer until the vegetables are tender, about ten minutes.

Meanwhile bring a second pot of water to boil (I reused my original stock pot so as to save dishes). Season with sea salt and drop in the noodles. Cook according to package directions. Drain and then add into soup along with the diced chicken and stock concentrate.

Stir and simmer until chicken is warmed through.

Enjoy!

I haven't posted a weekday winner in a while, but this is just the recipe for my comeback. I have loved this dinner for years, and it meets all the qualifications for a great weeknight meal - family-friendly, easy to make, quick to assemble then hands-off to cook. I wish I could tell you where I got the recipe from, but I wrote it by hand years ago into a notebook where I sometimes stick recipes and thus have no source.

This makes enough for dinner and leftovers. The photo below shows the casserole  as it looks in the first step. It's not the prettiest casserole once you dish it out and put it on a plate but, as my grandpa use to say, "it all goes to the same place."

Enjoy!

Corn Bread Casserole
Serves 8

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1 8 oz. can corn, drained
1 15 oz. can kidney beans, half drained
1 15 oz. can black beans, drained
2 c. shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 c. chopped green onions
1 tbsp. chili powder
1 tsp. cumin
1 package cornbread mix (plus one egg and some milk as directed)

• In a large bowl, mix together everything but the cornbread.
• Pour into greased 2 quart baking dish.
• Make cornbread according to package directions. Spread over the top of the bean mixture.
• Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.
• Serve with plain yogurt or sour cream.