Thursday, 10 May 2012

today I am black

 Charcoal, Ebony, Ash, Coal, Midnight, Raven, Licorice, Ink, Pitch, Jet, Obsidian, Onyx, Slate.

Black is the absence of light.  Once the colour of brides, now the colour of mourning. It is prim and sexy, dowdy and sophisticated. It is spare and luxurious. It is wealth and poverty. It is religion and sacrilege. Black embodies the fragility and robustness of our humanity. It speaks to our varied human contradictions.
Black sheep, black pride. Black velvet, black heart. In  the black, black and blue. Black flag, black shirt. Black eye, black out. Black velvet, black robe. Black and white, fade to black. Black belt, black watch. Black tie, black Maria. Black hole, black box. Black kettle, black pot. Black sun, black dog. Black magic, black Friday. Black comedy, black dwarf. Black market, black mail.    

 xo Jo

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

quinoa apple patties

Again, in a never ending quest to find non-meat protein sources for my toddler, I have come up with the following recipe using quinoa, which thankfully is a yummy a nd versatile complete protein that my child enjoys. These patties are very yummy. I have made a version of these with banana instead of apples and that went over well too. I have also made a savory version (recipe will be posted in a while), which he also enjoys, and which I have enjoyed with a little chutney on top. He dunks his in organic ketchup.

These beauties need no dunking. They are yummy.

And quinoa is so good for you, as you probably know. And if you want to know why, here is a good source expounding on the virtues of the seed. And here.

Here's what you do:

Cook up a cup of quinoa in coconut milk, plus extra water.

In a separate bowl, whisk eggs, peanut butter, applesauce, cinnamon until smooth. When quinoa is done cooking, a cooled enough to handle it, add it to the egg mixture. Add some sunflower seeds, raisins, cranberries or other nuts, or nothing at all if you prefer. Add enough bread crumbs to make the batter firm enough to form small patties.

Cook then in a bit of oil on the stove until golden.

Serve with love.

List of ingredients:

3/4- 1 cup quinoa, rinsed
can of coconut milk
2 eggs
2 tblsps peanut or almond butter
1/3 cup applesauce ( I use homemade, picked from my own tree, unsweetened stewed apples)
tsp of cinnamon, or more if you like
sunflower seeds, raisins, walnuts, cranberries, or what have you
bread crumbs or panko.

xo Jo

Monday, 7 May 2012

53 photos, 52 weeks: mother

This week's theme is mother. I suppose that Mother's Day is coming up. But what can be said, how can a mother be depicted in a way that has not been done before? We love our mothers, and if we don't particularly love our own mother, then there is usually a mother -figure that we love dearly. If we choose to become one, we love being a mother. As children, we often dream and pretend that one day we will be a mother, or as young adults we spend a lot of time avoiding these games, swearing that we will never be mothers. We love Mother Earth. Our mothers our beautiful because of their flaws as much as they are beautiful in their own unique perfections. I have recently become a mother. It is more than I could have imagined it to be, and exactly as I imagined it. It is raw. It is dirty. It is exhausting. It is beautiful. And I love it.

Oddly, while I was expecting my first child, I spent a lot of time thinking about the baby- how I would care for her/him, what sort of edifying activities I would enroll him/her in. I worried about learning all I could about basic baby care. I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about myself, picturing myself as a mother, and I guess in many ways this was my first introduction to being a mother: pure, selfless devotion to the little being whose life I am now responsible for shaping, molding and sustaining.

I scrub, I cook, I build, and cultivate. I lift and carry, I bend and stoop. My veins pulse with life and vigor. I have chipped and cracked nails. My callouses are stained with juices of berries picked with love, with finger paints, with dirt. These hands knead and stir, they rub sore tummies, they wipe bums and tears. They carry toys,  teddies, fears, dreams, and sleeping bodies. They mend scraped knees and socks. They caress sleepy heads and carry tired bodies to bed.

Next week's theme: Up
xo Jo