Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Eight (Test Question: To Diet or Not To Diet?)

Oye! Dieting. I haven't dieted in years. And here I am dieting. Little Ms. Thin has gained weight. Could it be the dreaded middle-age or too much imbibing or too many treats or perhaps, just not enough exercise? Or maybe, as they say in multiple choice tests, "All of the above." Despite my multiple choice test status, I still manage to make the family some pretty tasty meals that for now are in my category of eats as "None of the above."

Tonight's dinner choices?

a) Spelt Right Right Pizza made with Spelt Right dough on a perforated pan and topped with EVOO, blended with fresh garlic mashed with salt (with a mortar and pestle), topped with sauteed onions, steamed broccoli, fresh hand made mozzarella, and fresh sliced tomatoes. Soo good, but soo not the right choice for this dieting mom.

b) The side adornment is green salad with EVOO, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper.

c) None of the above

d) All of the above

Guess, I could modify my test answer to selecting, "b" rather than "c" and still pass the diet test. Let's see how long this lasts.

As for the directions, pre-heat oven to 450F, oil pan, gently stretch dough on pan, bake dough for about 5-7 minutes, remove dough from oven and top with all of the toppings. Bake at 450 for 15-20. Serve to your family and shut your eyes as they take their first luscious bite, and block your ears as they quietly say "yumm!"

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred Forty-Four (On the Meaning of Life-Blood and One Incredible Banana Bread)

So I have been stressing a bit lately.  What’s new?  Most of it is a self-imposed choice of wanting to climb very high mountains, forge new territories, and occasionally get some sleep. 

Sometimes, however, genetics just get in the way.   This time, it is not only personality traits, but also blood clotting traits.  No one really wants to talk about this stuff.   Blood.  It is kind of taboo.  But, blood has become the focus of my life.   Recently, I was diagnosed with two different blood-clotting disorders – Von Willebrand Disease and Factor XI deficiency.  Factor XI is also known as hemophilia C.   At first the “H” word made me shutter, but now it has transformed me into the guardian of my blood-line – the entire tangle of my family emanating from my father’s side.   My children, my siblings, their children, my cousins, their children.  It is all genetics.   It is like unraveling a mystery.

These newly discovered diagnoses explain years of mystery.   Like why, during certain times of my life, I was so drained, I felt I did not have one more speck of energy to move on.  Or, why I chose to have all of my babies 5 years apart.  Or, why I ended up in the ER hemorrhaging after a simple tooth extraction.  Or, why my father never healed after surgery, which led to his demise a year later.  Or, why my aunt died within hours of surgery.  Or, why my oldest sister is always covered with bruises.

All of us were literally drained of our life-blood.   It is all genetics, but no one knew.   Until, now, that is. 

I recently have been told that I have been very lucky.   But, it’s also taboo to talk too much about luck.  So, I will leave it at that.  (But, I will mention briefly that I am lucky to live in Southern Maine, home to not only lobsters and great coastlines, but also a phenomenal Hemophilia Treatment Center at Maine Med.)

But, now that I am the guardian of this information, I have a responsibility to carry the torch, lead the way, make new discoveries and help those within my blood-line, especially, my youngest, who carries on the tradition of my lineage.   She’s only 9, and wishes to disclaim this inheritance, but unfortunately, she can’t.  Fortunately, though, she also has me, with the knowledge, no shame, and the ability to keep her out of harm’s way.  

So not only will I continue to teach this fierce 9 year old how to be strong, and to care for herself, and to look for signs, I am also teaching her how to be self-sufficient and climb her own mountains.

Spelt Banana Bread Made By One Strong 9 Year Old

During this recent tumultuous time, my littlest tyke really wanted to bake one day, but this baker entrepreneur mother was quite worn out.  So, with my encouragement, she and her big brother baked all on their own and made some incredible banana bread.

It was the perfect snack for a mom who was feeling slightly tired, but no longer drained of her life-blood.

Incredible Spelt Banana Bread

1/2 cup soft butter

1 cup organic sugar

2TBL organic black strap molasses

2 eggs, beaten

2 cups whole grain VITA SPELT flour

1 teaspoon aluminum free baking soda

1/4 cup orange juice

2-3 ripe bananas

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Cream butter and sugar, beat in eggs.  Add dry ingredients, and then mix in mashed bananas, applesauce and orange juice.   Mix well.  Bake in 9 x 12 well butter glass pan, or in loaf pan.  Bake for 30-40 minutes in glass pan or 45 min-1hr in loaf pan.    ENJOY every life-filled moment!

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred and Twenty-Two (A Restraining Order to Protect Cake Batter - Happy Birthday O)

Turning 9 is monumental, especially if you were just 8 the day before.  Yesterday, I let both my kids play hooky.  It was supposed to be a stress reliever for all of us in honor of O's birthday - and the fact that Grandma's ER visit and brief stay at a nursing care facility the day before taught us what Dorothy learned some time ago "There is no place like home."

O had the privilege of going to her favorite Japanese restaurant and dragging her mom to Chuck E. Cheese for some 9 year old madness.  Spencer got to skip school in the name of making a cake for his sister's birthday.  My dear friend Kitty was relegated to Grandma watch duty - due to Grandma's sprained ankle.

Perhaps, Spencer should just give up school and start a restaurant.  He has contracted kitchen fever.  No longer is he the secondary sous chef or the kid who gets to crack the eggs. He is the 13 year old man in charge of the kitchen - reeling orders at anyone who dares to cross his path.  "Kitty, get me the onions please - time to make dinner."  "Mom, the cake pans please?"  "Olivia, outta my way....I'm in charge."  This sometimes does not bode well for the now 9 year old who also wants to be in charge.

I can't even guess the recipe Spencer used/created for Olivia's birthday cake.  It was a stunning ALL NATURAL red velvet spelt cake with real butter cream frosting (no confectioner's sugar here....I was completely baffled that he made frosting with granulated sugar...but it was awesome.)  I do know that after Spencer made this wonderful cake, we ran out of butter, sugar, and are now low on Vita Spelt.

Somewhere in the making of this grand cake, the intentions got lost....Olivia wanted a swipe of the batter on her finger: Spencer insisted that the only hands in the bowls would be his; I ran to my third floor office for cover, locking two doors behind me.  Alas, to no avail.  The kids know how to break in, and Olivia came up crying about the cruelty of not getting to eat batter, and Spencer followed later demanding a "restraining order" against his sister so the cake could be finished, or else there would be no birthday celebration at all.

A "restraining order" regarding cake batter?  Has this lawyer, turned baking entrepreneur had too much influence on her kids?????  Have we lost the meaning of the cake???

As the madness ensued, I attempted to maintain some sense of semblance as I was making business plans regarding something or other....I felt for my business partner on the other end of the telephone line, as I bounced between the concept of supermarket orders and the need for a restraining order to protect cake batter.

Olivia's Red Velvet Spelt Birthday Cake created by Spencer

Somehow, without a restraining order, the cake did get baked, and I managed to grocery shop for birthday fare, and make grilled chicken, seared steak, Spelt Right pizza and fitayers, salad, salad dressing and rice (thank you Kitty)....just in time for our expected guests - Kitty, Donna and her two kids and our unexpected guests, my brother and his adult daughter, Caitlyn.   My friends were in awe at the amount of food I made...."Way too much," they said..   I knew better...especially with Spencer, the chef, and Alan my brother in the house.   The dinner was devoured, plates wiped clean.  Thank goodness for the loving dad, spouse, son-in-law, brother-in-law and overall good mensch Tim who made the kitchen spotless after the celebration and all the shenanigans.

The Birthday song, along with the beautiful cake, topped off the evening, and reminded us the meaning of the cake - a family's love for a NOW nine year old girl with a little batter on her finger, and no retraining orders on her record.

Happy Birthday Olivia.  We love you.

The sweet end to a raucous day