Back to Basics

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A friend of mine (in her mid twenties) recently confessed that when she left home a few years ago she had absolutely no idea how to cook. Growing up in the US, she’d thought that food ‘made from scratch’ involved packet / instant meals, rehydrated and heated. A meal made from individual fresh ingredients was virtually unheard of. ‘Geez, most of the fresh stuff – vegetables in particular – were a mystery to me the first time I saw them in a store.. I’ve learned pretty much everything I know since moving to Australia, especially in the last year.’

Although on one level I found this astounding – my own experience having been so very different – it also resonated with what I hear from other young (and not-so-young) people I meet. Namely that planning meals, shopping for ingredients, and then making even fairly basic food is not part of their worldview. They acknowledge the reality of the concept, but haven’t the skill set to engage with it on a practical level.

Processed foods, generally loaded with sugars and fats, are relatively inexpensive. Sadly, Australia is following the US trend and fast food outlets are becoming increasingly more accessible than stores selling fresh food. The result is that the combination of convenience, instant satisfaction (sugar high) and not having to plan makes them easy solution for many people.

And that’s what basic food preparation is about at its core. It’s not magic, it’s just planning – and experience.

I think it’s super important to provide our kids with the skills to feed themselves nutritious food made from scratch – and on a budget, since the trend in food prices is always on the rise. So here are some basic tips from when my kids were young:

  • I encouraged them to experiment in the kitchen. We started small, baking cookies together. It was fun – and everyone got to eat the results, which they found very satisfying.
  • From quite early on they started to help with basic food prep for dinner (grating carrots, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them, etc.). It entertained them and gave them the first stepping stones to managing in the kitchen independently.
  • Praise worked wonders. I found that it built keen kitchen-helpers and – in the long run – very capable cooks.
  • Show by example that making meals from fresh ingredients can be fun, easy and affordable.
  • Recipes need to be simple to start with – not too many ingredients or too many steps, otherwise it’s simply too daunting.
  • Create a recipe folder for each kid and each time they make something, print the recipe and add it to their file for future use. Boychilde recently told me that he still has his recipe file and continues to use it, 20+ years after we started it together. I’m pretty sure DaughterDearest does too  🙂

Having kids in the kitchen is messy and you could definitely do it more quickly and efficiently without their ‘help’ – at least to start with. But in due course they’ll start to pick up skills, knowledge and confidence. They’ll be able to start cooking meals occasionally and make decisions about grocery planning and what constitutes a balanced meal.

It’s skill building for their future – and it’s no small thing.

helping in the kitchen

Joy of Sharing

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This week I received a most beautiful and unexpected letter in the mail. Opening the plain brown envelope, I found an actual thought-out, pen-to-paper wonder that left me speechless and teary. It was from a fabulous young man, one I love dearly and who has been part of my ‘pack’ for almost two decades. When I first met him, he was finding his way – uncertain as to his path and about his prospects for the future. It was a joy to watch him become confident in so many different spheres, not the least of which was his welcome in our home. We witnessed him start to build a secure footing in the world and then embarking on journeys both emotional and intellectual that have shaped him over the intervening years. He always showed such promise – and this letter, this beautiful and moving missive, is indicative of just how very far he has travelled. My heart is full.

Resilience and Gingerbread

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What builds resilience in individuals – and what diminishes the capacity for resilience? I’ve been thinking about this a bit over the last few weeks whilst trying to manage the turbulence that is life-with-puppies.

First of all, what is resilience? Well, it’s generally considered to be the capacity individuals have to cope with difficulties/stress, ranging from personal tragedy or trauma to issues at home/in the workplace, financial pressures or health problems. The more resilience you have, the better you are at rolling with the punches that life throws at you, dusting yourself off and carrying on.

Different people cope with similar situations very differently, and sometimes even those who appear quite resilient in one set of circumstances may be very vulnerable in others. However, experience and observation (very unscientific, I know, but there you go) has shown me that resilience is an attribute that can both be learned and expanded upon with use. The key seems to be to try to avoid being overly change-averse. Or, to put it another way, to focus on having a flexible outlook.

I’ve found that honing my capacity to manage change has in turn made me more able to notice and manage stress when it arises, to think positively and even to learn new skills. That, combined with support from loved ones and a good night’s sleep makes an enormous difference in coping with vagaries of life.

But building resilience takes work and, at times, it can seem insurmountably difficult to achieve. Indeed, after multiple dog dramas and two emergency vet runs in as many weeks, my personal resilience capacity sank to what felt like an all time low. It happens. But T and I managed to accommodate the dramas, move through the emotional responses and, if not bounce back, exactly, at least totter back from the outcomes.

And each time we manage to bounce back – no matter how slowly we do it – we’re better equipped to do so the next time something comes up. We’re building our resilience without even realising it. We certainly know where our local emergency vet practice is located now and that Thursday nights is their busiest time!

Today we rewarded ourselves for surviving another puppy-infested-drama-laden-week with… gingerbread. We all need to be looked after and sometimes self-nurturing is the most useful gift we can give ourselves. Today, that gift is gingerbread. Lots of tasty gingerbread. I feel significantly more resilient with every slice 🙂

Nik’s Gingerbread Recipe

I’ve made this gingerbread loaf countless times over the past 30+ years. It’s never failed to be soft, moist and absolutely delicious. It’s dead easy to make and freezes well – and if you slice it beforehand, you get to have a treat a day for as many days as there are slices. This recipe makes two medium sized loaves or one really big one. Plan accordingly 🙂

Set the oven to 180C (350F). Line two medium-sized loaf pans with foil; lightly coat the foil with oil/butter.

3 cups plain flour , 1-cup sugar (I prefer raw sugar, but use whatever sort you like), 3 teaspoons ginger, pinch of salt, 2 teaspoons mixed spice, 1 teaspoon baking power, 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda – mixed with 1/4 cup of water, 1-cup oil, 3 eggs. 1-cup golden syrup (or treacle, if you prefer – both work), 1-cup lukewarm water

Mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl. Pour the mix into the prepared loaf pans. Bake for approximately 55 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack for about 10 minutes or so before turning out. Serve warm or cold – and with butter if you like it that way.

Note: if you bake this in one LARGE loaf pan (as I did today), then it’s a good idea to drop the temp to about 160-170 — it takes longer, but the top won’t get that interesting darker-than-dark shade and super-delicious crunchy bits 😛

Stories by Candlelight

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Last week I was privileged to attend an event entitled Recovery Stories by Candlelight, as part of the WAAMH Conference, held in Kings Park over two days.

The story event was the culmination of many weeks of preparation, during which 20 individuals took part in a series of professional storytelling workshops. Nine people were selected at the end to be part of the live performance evening, telling their stories of the lived experience of recovery from mental illness.

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The evening started with (delicious!) gourmet paella, made in ginormous pans, followed by a selection of decadent desserts. The Spirit of the Steets Choir then took the stage and performed four songs.  A few of the choir members shared their own stories of recovery through music, each of which was touching and heartfelt.

Then we got the featured stories – nine brave and amazing people who shared their hurt, struggle and determination to live life as fully as possible. The challenges that each individual had faced – that many still face – and the way they were articulated, left me speechless. These included coping with PTSD, postnatal psychosis, chronic anxiety, depression, alcoholism, drug abuse, self-harm, schizoaffective disorders and eating disorders. The evening was an emotional roller coaster, many of the stories moving me to tears.

Stories unify us, providing us with insights – not only into the lives and experiences of others, but into our own complicated (and often unaddressed) issues. It’s often the spoken word, the heard and remembered stories that have the greatest impact.

Things I thought, en route home afterwards:

  • Humans are fragile
  • Wounded storytellers sharing their journey of healing wield power to shape the world around them
  • People need to be kind to themselves. Life can be a struggle and your inner you might make the difference to your survival.
  • We need to accept that whilst aspiring to more in life is fine, stepping back and being grateful for what is has value too
  • Take stock and be grateful – that you (I) have enough, whether it’s enough to eat, enough love, enough energy or enough strength

Thank you, WAAMH, for hosting this powerful event. Thank you, brave and beautiful Karen, for inviting me to share it with you.

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Seven days in Perth

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As I worked through my exercise routine at the hydrotherapy pool yesterday, it occurred to me just how fortunate I am. This was probably spurred on by the presence of two young cerebral palsy patients, each with two carers assisting them in the pool. As I walked and cycled and did the rest of my exercises (unaided), I thought about how easy it is to whinge rather than to take stock of just how rich one’s life actually is. This then led me to consider when last I’d consciously enjoyed my week. The short answer was ‘this week’ – seven days of random things, excluding paid work. So here’s what I’ve been up to lately…

Weather guarding the fruit trees. This involved some compost, a lot of mulch and hard work. The first step was to lower the level of the garden bed in our mini orchard by about 15cm. Whilst that may not sound like much, I have many bags of sand that testify otherwise! There simply isn’t an easy way to get rid of sand when there isn’t ready access for a bobcat or other doggy-machine to do the work for you. It comes down to a shovel, determination and time. Once I’d finally reached the desired level (after mole cricket larvaemuch digging and bagging of sand), I decided it would be a good idea to add a little compost to enrich the area and to make up for having removed most of the topsoil.

This also sounds simpler than it actually was. It turned out that our compost bin was ‘enriched’ by a large number of creepy-looking mole cricket larvae. How the devil they got in there is a mystery, but I know exactly how they got out… I donned the gloves-of-protection, sifted through the compost – by hand – and removed them, one grub at a time. By the time I finished I was decidedly grossed out and very much in need of a shower to get rid of (mostly imaginary) bug residue. Himself very kindly took on the task of spreading the compost and then topping it with a thick layer of mulch. The trees look happy and we’re hoping they’ll have an easier time of it through the February heat.

Socialising. Finding time to spend with friends often falls foul of busy schedules. I’ve found that a way round this is to book what are, in effect, ‘play dates’. These can be lunch/dinner, a walk, coffee, a movie – any excuse to ensure that we can get together to catch up on nothing and everything rather than gradually losing contact. This week I went to a movie with friends, had people round to our place a few times and enjoyed a couple of hours catching up with a good friend over bagels, waffles and coffee. I did wonder whether being an informal DryAthlon participant this January would impact my social life – but it’s made no difference at all.

Harvest. In a moment of crazy late last year I planted out 12 basil seedlings. It was really for some fresh greenery in the garden at Xmas time, but I didn’t expect many of them to all survive the heat. They did. They all did. So this week was the first great basil harvest and pesto making adventure. The house smelled delicious and my freezer is now full of little boxes of pesto for later in the season when the plants have died back. I also took the time to strip our ruby blood plum tree – and to eat a goodly number of the plums. Not a huge harvest this year, so I won’t be making any plum jam – but I’m okay with that since we still have a LOT of various jams in stock from past harvests.

Convention wrap-up. As part of the organising committee for the 15th (very successful) GenghisCon, it was good to share the highlights with the rest of the crew at the final meeting this week. We also spent some time brainstorming as to how we can make the planning phase easier for the 2016/17 committee. Cunning plans are afoot.

Pet fud. A 6am run to the local meat markets on Saturday resulted in the purchase of 10 ox hearts, 2 ox livers and 18kg of beef mince. Later in the day the household vibrated to the sounds of the mixmaster with its mincer attachment going full tilt. Hearts are no problem – the flesh is very firm and easy to cut up and feed through the mincer. Livers, however, are slippery little devils and mince out to a meaty goo that’s seriously visually unappealing. (Just thought I’d share that visual image).

Our pet fud recipe is: 2 hearts, 1 liver, 10kg mince, 1.5kg sardines in oil – mix together (wear gloves!), then weigh out into 600g lots and freeze. Our pup currently gets 300g of this mix each day, along with her (soaked) biscuits and whatever veggies I have to hand. She’s loving it and the meat component costs us less than $2 a day. This time round we processed 105 meals, so it’ll be a while before we need to head back to the markets. Well worth the early morning and a couple of hours of production. Win.

(The rest of the meat was for DaughterDearest to turn into catfud – the process is essentially the same, but with the addition of various cat-specific dietary supplements.)

Veggies. A friend and I take it in turn to go to the wholesale veggie markets every 3 weeks or so. This wasn’t my week on, so I had the pleasure of having three boxes filled to overflowing delivered to the door. Our fridge is now pretty well stocked with delicious fruit and veg that will keep us going for the next couple of weeks. Happiness.

Having reviewed all that, it occurs to me that it’s often only by comparison (to the plight of others) that we appreciate the richness of our own lives, that we realise the value of our abilities and the strength of our relationships. Surely this isn’t best practise? Perhaps being more conscious of these things in the here-and-now, mindfully rather than habitually, could be a useful goal to strive towards this year.