Pan Seared Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Feta

We kids feared many things in those days

- werewolves, dentists, North Koreans, Sunday School

- but they all paled in comparison

with Brussels sprouts

                                                                          -Dave Barry

 

Forget everything you know, or think you know about Brussels sprouts. One bite of these delectable little beauties will have you singing a new tune.  

 

I have always loved Brussels sprouts, except for a short time when my older brother Mike told me that since Cabbage Patch Kids came from cabbages and Brussels sprouts are essential mini cabbages then Cabbage Patch Kids Preemies must come from Brussels sprouts. It only took one tear filled dinner to quickly dispel that myth. 

 

Brussels sprouts to me are, just as Mike said, mini cabbages. Being mini, they contain all of the flavor of a cabbage in a much smaller package which makes the flavor much more intense. The bitter flavor is one of the reasons Brussels sprouts get such a bad rap, that and if they aren't cooked properly they can turn into a slimy ball of wilted sadness that no one wants to eat.

 

That is the beauty of this dish. You aren't boiling the Brussels sprouts so they don't soak up excess liquid. The salty taste of the bacon and the sweetness of the cranberries help draw out the bitter flavor in the Brussels sprouts leaving you with a very mild "baby cabbage" giving you the opportunity to enjoy all of the health benefits of these tiny powerhouses.

 

I added asparagus to this dish during our Thanksgiving feast, throwing in a full bunch cut into 1 inch sections when the Brussels sprouts were almost half cooked and I loved the results. Asparagus and Brussels sprouts go really well together. If you wanted a vegetarian version of this dish you could omit the bacon and substitute a drizzle of balsamic vinegar and serve it over a bed of brown rice or barley. This is something that I will be experimenting with in the near future and will post here as soon as soon as I have perfected the recipe. But for now, I hope you will give Brussels sprouts another chance with this quick and easy recipe that even you pickiest eater will enjoy. (p.s. my kiddo's aren't fans of feta, so I always serve theirs first and sprinkle mine with feta once it is on my plate)

 

 

 

Pan Seared Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Feta

 

1 pound of Brussels sprouts washed, trimmed and halved

1/2 pound of bacon, crispy cooked (reserve 2 tsp of drippings)

1 C dried cranberries

1 C toasted nuts of your choice (I have used hazelnuts and macadamia nuts)

1/2 C feta cheese crumbles

 



In large skillet, that has a lid, cook bacon until it is crispy.

Remove bacon and clean out drippings, reserving 2 tsp of drippings to saute the Brussels sprouts.

In the same skillet, warm 2 tsp of bacon drippings over medium heat.

Add Brussels sprouts and stir fry for about 5 minutes, covering with lid after each stir.

Add cranberries and continue to stir fry for another 5 minutes, covering with lid to allow the Brussels sprouts time to steam and soak up the flavor of the cranberries.

Add cooked bacon and nuts and stir fry for 2-3 minutes more until Brussels sprouts have cooked through to desired doneness but stir frequently so as to keep the bacon from burning.

Remove from heat and sprinkle with desired amount of feta just before serving.

Coconut Crusted French Toast

The waves of the sea

help me get back to me.

                                          -Unknown

 

This is usually a particularly hard time of the year for me. Christmas is over as well as the celebration for the New Year. My "resolutions" are beginning to fade and I am starting to feel like a failure. It is bitter cold and the thought of spring feels like a fantasy at the moment.

 

But, this year is different.

 

With all of the little changes that I have been making and my good friend, the "happy light", I might ACTUALLY make it through this winter in one piece! I have a couple of little trips planned and our big family vacation for the year is mostly paid for, I'm just waiting to actually make the purchase.

 

When winters are hard though, I have found that if I trick my mind into believing that I am somewhere tropical I can usually take off the top layer of sadness, even if it is only for a couple of moments. This usually involves listening to my Israel Kamakawiwo’ole station on Pandora and making something yummy to eat that reminds me of the islands. 

 

Nothing says Aloha to me in a more beautiful way than Coconut Crusted French Toast with Coconut Syrup. The warm toasted coconut is nestled nicely in a bed of thick sliced French bread that has been dredged through a mixture of eggs and coconut milk which enhances the flavor and gives a lighter feel to the whole meal.  

 

So turn up the music, warm up your griddle and blast the furnace. We are going to make it through this winter, one delicious bite at a time!

 

 

Coconut Crusted French Toast

 

1 loaf French bread cut into 1 inch slices

6 eggs lightly beaten

1/2 of a 13.5 can of coconut milk

1 tsp coconut extract

2 1/2-3 C coconut flakes

 

Warm griddle to medium heat and prepare with cooking spray or melted butter.

 

Mix eggs, coconut milk and coconut extract until well combined.

 

Dredge sliced French bread through egg mixture and then through coconut flakes.

 

Place on griddle and cook, flipping several times to ensure that it cooks evenly, until egg coating is cooked through and coconut begins to toast. 

 

Coconut Syrup

 

1 stick butter
1 C sugar
1/2 C milk 

1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp coconut extract

Combine first 3 ingredients in a medium sauce pan. (The syrup will more than double in size when you add the baking soda, so a medium sauce pan is necessary.)

Bring just to a boil over medium heat.

Remove from heat and whisk in remaining ingredients until syrup is light and fluffy.   



Status Report

Nothing ever goes away

until it teaches us what we need to know.

                                                              -Pema Chadron

 

 

The first few weeks of the New Year have gone by in a flash. I have been really busy with work and trying to squeeze in some last minute fun with the fam before my kiddos headed back to school. But now that they are back in school I am ready to spend more time with you and this crazy journey.

 

First up, I just want to tell you all how much I have been enjoying my "A Year Without Scales" challenge. I know that I am getting smaller, not because the number on the scale is changing (I haven't been on the scale since the end of December), but because my clothes are looser! Pants that used to give me a lovely "muffin top" now rest nicely on my hips. My shirts are baggier and I have so much more energy. 

 

It has been hard not to climb on the scale after noticing those small changes, but I have resisted so far. I don't think I have lost enough that anyone will really notice yet, but I'm still truckin' and so hopefully soon. 

 

I have been reading a wonderful book by Deepak Chopra called "What are you hungry for?". The whole premise of the book is to ask yourself what you are truly hungry for. If you are filling a hole in your heart with food there is no way that you will ever be satisfied. If you are eating because you are bored, again you will not find the satisfaction that you need in the food you are eating. So now, before I eat I scan my body to make sure that I am really eating for fuel instead of eating just to eat and I'm also stopping before I become too full.

 

I have also been making small changes that will lead me to my ultimate goal. But with these changes I am also giving myself some wiggle room. A friend posted a FABULOUS article that has really stuck with me. It was all about how resolutions set us up for failure from the very beginning. The author talks about his own goals and he states that had they been resolutions he would have pushed himself past the breaking point and ultimately would have failed. With resolutions we either "do" or we "don't" and as soon as we "don't" we throw our hands up in the air and give up. By having an ultimate goal in mind and working towards that goal every day it isn't so black and white. 

 

I've broken my changes down to small weekly tweeks in my routine. During the first week of the New Year I gave up caffeinated soda (cold turkey). Last week I was more mindful of my eating. This week I am getting back into a good yoga routine. With all of the craziness that has been going on at work, it has been hard to squeeze it in, but now that I'm not drinking caffeinated soda I am waking up on my own around 5 or 6 every morning which gives me more than enough time to squeeze in some yoga. 

 

With these tweeks I know that at any time I may not be perfect with them, but just because I am not perfect today doesn't mean I won't be perfect tomorrow, and with the big picture in mind, one non-perfect day doesn't need to derail my progress. 

 

Lastly, I have a clear picture in my mind of who I will be at the end of 2014. I heard an interesting piece on NPR not too long ago that spoke to how our brains receive messages. One of the hardest things to remember is that our brain speaks a foreign language. The person who was interviewed described being stranded in a foreign land and needing to find a restroom. If you don't speak the language you could ask someone over and over where the bathroom was and you may never find what you are looking for, but sketch a quick picture of a toilet and you would quickly be pointed in the right direction. So instead of saying words to your brain about how you want to change your life get a clear picture of how you look, act and feel in that new life and you brain can be your biggest ally.   





A year without scales...

You have been criticizing yourself for years, and it hasn't worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.
Read more at http://www.quoteswave.com/picture-quotes/342530#eoma1OFIgAmmyiWV.99

You have been criticizing yourself for years,

and it hasn't worked.

Try approving of yourself and see what happens. 

                                                                                                 -Louise L. Hay

 

 

It happened just over a month ago. My youngest daughter was sick and I was fairly certain that she had Strep. So I bundled her up and drove out to an after hours clinic. When her name was called, we stepped back behind the doors and were quickly whisked away for vital signs and weight. As she stood there looking at the "torture device" she asked me in the softest little voice, "Mom, should I take my shoes off".

 

Luckily, this is a practice that I gave up years ago. So I quickly retorted, "No honey, it doesn't change anything". But the sting was still there.

 

My hope is that she was just asking if there was a proper way to step on the scale. But my fear has gotten the better of me and I have been examining and reexamining that scene to sniff out anything that I may have missed. My fear, and the fear of so many Mom's out there, is that my perfect little lovie believes that her value is somehow tied to the number that appears on the scale and by removing her shoes she will get a better number.

 

I grew up in the age of eating disorders. My parents and my friends parents were trying to balance the media "ideal" with the plethora of fast food options that were now available all the while helping us create a healthy body image, something that prior to this time apparently just happened. We were surrounded by models that claimed the way to happiness was a size 2 and ads that claimed that happiness came from a red box with a smile on the front of it. Most of us emerged slightly shell shocked on the other side of adolescence.

 

I fell into the majority that, at least for a time, tried to purge. (Just writing that word, I'm surprised at how neat and tidy it seems compared to the harsh reality.) Luckily for me, I was blessed with an iron clad stomach and was never successful, so I never became part of the group. Something I desperately wanted, but of course looking back I am grateful for that blessing in disguise. 

 

A lot of attention has been placed on the media lately as people begin to realize that so much of what we have thought to be real (because pictures don't lie) is in fact fake. Those little rolls that appear with natural movement are photo shopped or airbrushed out. Wrinkles are removed, natural skin tones are softened to the point of a cartoonesque quality.

 

I am so glad that I am raising my girls now instead of back when my parents were. I have tried to use words that build them up and make them feel powerful instead of words that make them examine themselves in a harsh light. And now I have proof of what is real and what isn't. When we flip through a magazine we point out where things look fake or phony and I hope it is helping, but I think there is more that I need to do.

 

My girls, and my boys, need to see me loving all of me. To be honest, the only time I have felt completely comfortable in my own skin (except, of course, for those years when I didn't realize that I shouldn't, we will say from birth to 5) was when I was pregnant. I loved the sweet roundness that moved under my skin. My hips and thighs dissolved under a blanket of expectations and no longer held my focus. It was bliss.

 

It has been a long time coming, but I am finally there again. I love all of me! My yoga practice has probably done the most to help me appreciate everything about me. I love the way my toes splay and shift as I stand in tree pose. I love the strength of my thighs as I slide into side angle pose. I even love the way my skin touches as I arch back into warrior one, because that is reality, because I'm not airbrushed.

 

I think it is time though, to take one more GIANT step forward and step off the scale for a bit. Even though I love me, I have been giving too much power to the little black box that merely announces the relationship between the gravitational pull of the earth and my mass. It has the power to take a good day and shade it with self doubt and belittlement.

 

So, as the only New Years resolution you will hear from me for the year (there are others, but I'm choosing to keep them to myself), I resolve to put the scale away for a full year and see if approving of myself day in and day out does more for me than the constant echo of a number has for all of these years.   

Because I am not that number on the scale. I am so much more and so much less.  

Gingerbread Waffles with Buttered Rum Syrup

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world,

and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.        

 

                                                                  -Norman Vincent Peale

Oh Norman, though I love this quote, I chuckled a little thinking, "man, he must have a REALLY good wife". Yes Christmas is beautiful and soft, but unfortunately it doesn't come with a wave of a wand. It comes from the painstaking, list writing, hand wringing, stress inducing insanity of that lovely woman beside you. I don't think a Christmas has passed since I have "grown-up" that I haven't longed to be a kid again and just "show up" to the magic of Christmas.

 

I always intend to simplify things, but back when I was creating our Christmas traditions I didn't really have an idea of what reality would look like with 4 kids, a hubby, a dog, a big-ole house that I still haven't figured out how to keep clean and a part time job that becomes increasingly busy around this time of year. I always plan to cut back on the "unnecessary" things until the kids ask about those things and they suddenly become necessary, and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Our traditions create a warm and safe place for our families when the world around them can feel so harsh and uninviting. 

 

So, I suck it up and let other things go during the holidays. I may indulge in an afternoon of candy making with my kids and then bring home take out to help balance the mess in the kitchen. Looking back, I think the thing I let go the most are dinners. I am so grateful that other people are willing to cook for me during the holidays! 

 

This morning I wanted to fill my families bellies with a new memory that will now become a tradition. I also knew that I was short on time, so I took what I had on hand and Gingerbread Waffles were born. 

 

Confession time. I will never be the mom who makes pancakes or waffles from scratch. I may find a recipe that I will try from time to time, but on REAL days that include schedules and deadlines you will see me reaching for my Krusteaz mix every time.

 

So with that in mind, here is a yummy treat to serve your family this Christmas morning that is quick and easy so that you can get back to celebrating with those you love most.

    

 

 Gingerbread Waffles

 

Waffle batter of your choice. Enough to make 6-8 waffles.

1/4 tsp cloves

1 tsp ginger

1 tsp cinnamon

1/8 C molasses

 

Prepare waffle batter and stir in remaining ingredients. Pour into prepared waffle iron, the molasses will make the batter a little more sticky, so use the back of a spoon to spread the batter around to the edges. Cook and enjoy.

 

Buttered Rum Syrup

 

1 stick butter
1 C sugar
1/2 C milk 

1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp rum extract

Combine first 3 ingredients in a medium sauce pan. (The syrup will more than double in size when you add the baking soda, so a medium sauce pan is necessary.)

Bring just to a boil over medium heat.

Remove from heat and whisk in remaining ingredients until syrup is light and fluffy.



Why a "cry day" is actually a GOOD idea...

The sorrow which has no vent in tears

may make other organs weep. 

                                                                 -Henry Maudsley 

I remember the day that I started to hate crying. I had been warned by another co-worker that I was being blamed for a "call gone bad". But instead of handling the matter privately, giving me the opportunity to defend myself and let the truth be known, the owner of the company decided that he wanted to make an example out of me because I had been talking to my husband on the other line when things went wrong. He did this by playing the call to my fellow dispatchers and explaining that I was the reason that things had gone terribly, horribly wrong. What he failed to examine was the long standing feud between dispatch and the paramedics which created an environment where neither felt they could properly do their job. Without the feud the paramedics would have repeated the address on their pagers to my partner, something that was expected of the lowly EMT's but not of the paramedics, and they would have gone to the correct Instacare, picked up the RIGHT patient and none of this would have ever happened. Instead my partner simply told them to go to the Instacare, assuming that they had the address on their pagers, and gave them the details of the patient that they were supposed to transport. Long story short they went to the wrong Instacare and because I "took the call" I was being blamed, even though I had entered the correct address and had dispatched the correct paramedic team.

 

As I walked into the meeting I could feel everyones eyes on me. Apparently the word had gotten out that I was the topic of conversation for the day. I had planned what I was going to say, I knew that the truth of the matter needed to be exposed for what it was. I didn't deserve to be the scape goat.

 

But as the call started, all courage, and anger and defiance drained out of my body and all I was left with were tears. I told them to stop the tape, laid down my badge and left the room.

 

The owner followed after me. Again, all I could do was cry. I don't remember our conversation, but I remember feeling how weak and insignificant I was. I couldn't make a single coherent sentence to help in my defense.  I wanted to roar like a lion, but I was running away, scared like a lamb. My tail between my legs, defeated.

 

Crying was now a sign of weakness, it was there to let those around me know that I was an easy target.

 

I have always been sensitive. I cried when a little boy told me that I had chubby legs on my first day of Kindergarten. I cried when my brother was being picked on for being nice to "less popular" kids. I cried when the chimpanzees in the movie "Project-X" were exposed to radiation and died. I cried when I was happy and I cried when I was sad.  

 

I had always just let it all hang out.

 

But now, crying was dirty. Instead of cleaning out built up emotions, I pushed them down and held them in.

 

I still cried, occasionally, but never when I was weak or defeated.

 

Years later I was a NICU nurse. I cried at every delivery I ever attended. My favorite deliveries were those where I could wrap up a healthy baby and hand it over to an excited but scared mom. When the baby needed some more attention from the NICU team the tears were short lived and I quickly got to work doing the things that the baby needed to survive. I could justify these tears, because they were happy tears, but they did become a bit of an inconvenience. Soon I was pushing down the happy tears. 

 

When I first started to connect the dots surrounding my depression anything that even remotely resembled sadness was pushed down to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. I was on survival mode. If anything stirred up that pot of tears I removed myself from the situation and pushed the sadness down further. Tears were now associated with this dark place in me that stole my zest for life, that left me failing as a wife and mother. If they weren't a part of the equation I felt just a little bit better.

 

What I had forgotten is that those tears are there for a reason. It's as if they hold that emotion and release it into the world. An emotion that is pushed down and held in has a way of festering inside of you, making you uneasy and brittle. 

 

Several months ago I heard a conversation on the radio where the host was talking about her "cry days". The co-host thought she was nuts, he was a guy btw, and asked anyone else out there to call in if they too had "cry days". The reaction was AMAZING and something that I was so grateful to be a witness to. There were other sensitive souls out there, like me, who needed that release of emotions and if they weren't getting it from their daily lives, they would induce that release in the privacy of their own homes. 

 

I had never tried a "cry day" before but thought it might not hurt. I was still a little scared that crying would make me spiral even deeper into a pit of despair, but at the moment I was pretty down and was hoping for a little glimmer of hope.

 

So, I pulled out the iPad and started searching for anything that would help me with some happy tears. I found videos of soldiers reuniting with their unsuspecting families, sappy proposals and videos of people walking for the first time following horrible accidents. It was kind of funny in the beginning. I was acting like I was crying, but nothing was coming out. Maybe my pipes were clogged from all of the years of non-use. By about ten minutes in it happened. I was sobbing like a baby. Not a cute baby mind you. I was crying like a booger filled gorilla making horrible gasping sounds following each new wave of tears. It was really ugly folks, but it was also so incredibly beautiful.

 

I was allowing myself to feel again. The whole time I was afraid of the repercussions of these emotions, but I was also so relieved that the tiniest bit of these emotions were now being released out into the world instead of being bottled up inside of me.

 

Guess what happened next?

Nothing.

I didn't feel weak or insignificant or that I had failed. If anything I felt like I was a little bit more whole. That by letting go of my emotions something else could now take it's place. Something that was light and airy instead of dark and heavy.           

I haven't looked to see if there is any "scientific" backing for my findings, but I do know that it helps me feel better. So I will continue to have my "cry days" and will slowly find my way back to happy.

Eggnog Syrup

Gifts of time and love

are surely the basic ingredients

of a truly merry Christmas. 

                                                                  -Peg Bracken
 

When I think of Christmas, I am immediately transported to the flavors that make up the season. Those treats that are special and unique to this time of year. Growing up that meant: pfeffernusse, a German Christmas cookie that was a sweet gingerbread ball rolled in powdered sugar, it was crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle; stollen, a German Christmas bread that hallmarked the candied fruit made famous in fruit cake, something I still haven't acquired the taste for; and everything pepperminty or eggnoggy.

 

Since breakfast is probably my very most favorite meal to prepare, I knew this holiday season wouldn't be complete without mixing up a new syrup recipe that incorporated some of these flavors. I have long been a sucker for eggnog. It is just one of those treats that I can't pass up this time of year.

 

This syrup recipe has been adapted several times to meet the season and my current craving. It started out as a simple buttermilk syrup recipe with a splash of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon. My friend Holly shared it with me almost 10 years ago, and my life hasn't been the same since. I have used the basic recipe to make coconut syrup, rum syrup, lemon syrup (which is delicious over ginger pancakes) and so many others. If I have a breakfast craving, I know how to satisfy it!

 

This is a great way to share a gift of time and love with your family. Serve up this delicious, quick and easy syrup drizzled over hot, crunchy waffles and breathe in all that the season has to offer.

 

 

 

Eggnog Syrup

1 stick butter
1 C sugar
1/2 C eggnog
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla 
Dash of nutmeg and cloves

Combine first 3 ingredients in a medium sauce pan. (The syrup will more than double in size when you add the baking soda, so a medium sauce pan is necessary.)

Bring just to a boil over medium heat.

Remove from heat and whisk in remaining ingredients until syrup is light and fluffy.