Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

One of our favorite children’s books is Sun Bread, written and illustrated by Elisa Kleven. I’ve gushed about it (and other books of hers) before, and have given Sun Bread to many children over the years. Lucas still loves it. Asher loves it, and hears it both at home and at preschool. Yesterday morning he brought it to me and asked me to read the book to him. Of course I did.

When we got to the end, he asked if we could make sun bread. Um … of course we can. So, after school we started baking.

Asher looked at the book while Lucas and I mixed eggs and sugar, flour and yeast. I love Kleven’s illustrations!

Lucas was a wonderful assistant, which is good because I’m not much of a cook these days. He stuck by me during the whole project, mixing ingredients, kneading the dough, shaping our sun … and eating it, too.

They both enjoyed this part! Why don’t we do this more often?

Our super cute sun bread. Here it needs one more rise, then a short time in the oven. Since we started at 4 p.m., our bread wasn’t ready until after dinner and bath time, with the two, hour-long rising periods. But that was just fine, since a generous drizzle of local honey made it a yummy dessert. I think it was in the oven about two minutes too long, which gave it a darker crust than I would have liked to see. But the boys enjoyed it and it smelled heavenly! In fact, it was kind of torture for me and Ian, since we aren’t eating bread right now.

“Bread so brilliant, bright, and sunny, Summer seemed to fill their tummies. Bread so fluffy and so fine, They felt themselves begin to shine …”

Cooking with love and intention can be very satisfying. I admit I don’t always achieve this, but when I do it’s blissful. Yesterday I made chicken stock from scratch so that I can make chicken noodle soup later this week, probably tomorrow night. I also cooked a big crockpot of chicken and chicken-apple sausage chili from a recipe I found on the Internet. It turned out to be really yummy (Lucas said “It’s delish”; Asher gobbled all of the meat, but that’s his way). The surprising ingredient, which I don’t believe I’ve ever used before in a recipe, was tomatillo salsa from a jar. It was just the right flavor kick. I added carrots because I like sneaking in extra veggies. I omitted the jalapeno pepper so as not to make it too spicy for my kiddos. I also made cornbread muffins that were too sweet and dry for my taste, but the kids liked them. Still searching for the right recipe for these.

My pink hyacinths are blooming and I adore them. I only wish I’d gotten around to planting bulbs last fall because I look at these flowers and want more, more, more! Want to do more, more, more! (My mother tells me that I don’t have to be more or do more. I am sure she is right but I seem to have a blind spot in this area.)

I’ve been sewing by hand in the evenings. I have a couple of goofy felt projects in the works that I’ll share later on.

Today I’m diving into womanist theology for a while. I’m building a pretty long list of questions for the publisher since it’s been a few years since I freelanced for this company. I’m making love to my Chicago Manual of Style, 15th edition.

(Thanks to my father in law for the cartoon! It’s disturbingly realistic.)

Something I did more or less right yesterday.

Lemon and herb roasted chicken, roasted mixed vegetables (beats, leeks, bell peppers, chard), and quinoa.

Oh what a time we had!

We decided to crack open the wonderful cheesemaking kit that our dear friends Tox and Shannon brought us. This past Saturday we made a special trek to Whole Foods for pasturized (not ultra pasturized) whole milk. We probably can get it elsewhere, but weren’t certain where, and we were quite sure we could find what we needed there. Whole Foods also has raw milk, which is supposed to be best for cheese, but as it was really pricey, we decided not to use raw milk on the first try. (You know, in case the magic didn’t work.)

Lucas dissolved the citric acid in chlorine-free water.

The kit came with everything we needed except the milk and the chlorine-free water.

Here’s our milk, frothy and cooking.

We slowly heated the milk to 90° F, added the rennet, and waited for it to coagulate the milk solids.

Then we tested to see if it had done it’s job. Yep, the whey was clearish and the milk solids (curds) were congealed and looked like custard.

I think Asher is praying to the goddess of milk, Hathor, here. Daddy carefully cut the curds.

The curds were returned to the heat and heated to 110° F. We had to make a water bath (185° F) and dip our colander full of mozzarella curds into the hot water. This made them elastic and stretchable!

Then we were able to   s  t  r  e  t  c  h our mozzarella (we ate some at this point). Stretching elongates the proteins (but I don’t know what that means).

We formed it into our heart shape. It cooled in its ice bath for 10 minutes and voilà, MOZZARELLA CHEESE!

Kitchen science is awesome. Now here’s the crazy part: If we had been better prepared and more experienced, we could have taken the whey, the byproduct of the mozzarella, and make … more cheese from it. The whey must be used within three hours though, and we weren’t prepared to start a new cheesemaking project then. It was time to eat!

Thanks, Tox and Shannon!

Do not eat onion rings, even if the opportunity comes up and you quickly flash on being roughly six years old and eating onion rings at A&W with your dad, who also ordered you a chocolate milkshake and then patiently listened to every word you said, no matter that he might have been tired or bored or stressed or whatever. He was there. With you. Showing all his love.

Put plainly, no onion rings in the world will ever be that good again. Ever.

And they will make your tummy hurt and you will have bad food dreams at night about eating junk.

Our first batch of plum jam was made on December 4th with Papa. Last night we made another big batch and we’ll have to see later tonight whether it’s gelled properly. The jam is low in sugar, sweet-tart, and full of pulpy goodness. I hope it’s delicious.

The plums we used were frozen from last year’s harvest, when Dad and I picked way more than we could process in three jam-making sessions. It was a difficult time then, full of anxiety (and flat-out fear on my part) about Dad’s upcoming heart surgery, and making jam together was our bonding activity. It was special and sweet, the first time we had ever made jam together, and laced with uncomfortable overtones of, “what if.”

The jamming has been different this year. More of a celebration. More an act of thanksgiving for me. Dad is well, perhaps not fully recovered, but nevertheless doing great despite a lot of stress and caring for his 89-year-old mother and 96-year-old  aunt. He would say he’s all better now. I know he still tires easily.

I would be very pleased if I could be making plum jam with my dad for another 15 years.

I’m breaking radio silence briefly to say,

Aaaahhh.

It’s so wonderful to relax. Perspective is a beautiful thing. I think I’ve found some of it again, now that I’ve had two whole days with minimal work and lots of lovey time with my family. We are enjoying ourselves tremendously. We even had a special Thanksgiving dinner today (thanks to Chez Safeway) that we ate in this glorious spot in the backyard of our rented vacation house, overlooking the rolling waves and frolicking surfers.

Life is beautiful.

My darling husband had a birthday last Friday; he turned “26” (which stands to reason since I turned “25” again this year and he’ll always be older than me).

Asher and Lucas and I baked him a lovely apple cake. The kids chopped the apples. It went kind of like this: “One for Daddy’s cake. One for me. One for Daddy’s cake. One fore me.”

Here’s the cake before we frosted it with butter cream frosting and topped it with colorful sprinkles. Damn, it was good! Moist and spicy with nutmeg. I used the Apple Hill recipe and it turned out perfect.

I roasted a chicken (and basted it with butter, garlic, and curry powder), which was beautiful and golden but I didn’t get a photo. I prepared a wonderful spinach salad and cauliflower purée, too. (It’s delish and a lot like mashed potatoes but not nearly so carby.) Ian’s sister and her boyfriend (we love them both dearly) joined us for dinner to help us celebrate. They brought the “Beatles Rock Band” game with all the equipment. We all played the game together and had a wonderful time!

Lucas was great at singing “Yellow Submarine.” I haven’t sung into a mic in … well, 20 years. So that was both weird and really fun.

Asher liked the colors on the game, but got discouraged or embarrassed at one point and gave up.

On Saturday, a beautiful, chilly fall day, we got to celebrate with just grown ups. Ian and NoNo and I ate lunch in Placerville and then drove to a little town in the Sierra foothills called Fairplay. It’s south of Apple Hill and has lots of wineries to visit. We went to three of them and tasted Sirahs and Syrahs, and Cabernets and Sauvignon Blancs, Zins and Merlots, Muscats and Ports, and a couple of varietals that I’ve never before heard of. It was lovely, although I found after a while that tasting every other wine was a better plan for me.

At the Winery by the Creek we got a treat we’d never before experienced. We tasted wine directly from the barrel. Young wine is weird and you have to try to “taste it forward.” For me, that didn’t mean much, but that’s probably because by the time we arrived there I was mostly done with wine tasting. We considered the merits of wine futures for the first time. NoNo was really tempted by both the Zinfandel and the Port, but left without buying either.

Ian and I came home with about six bottles after our adventure. We gave one to my folks as a way of thanking them for watching our boys for the afternoon.

Call me crazy, but I’m planning an equinox celebration with some dear friends for Tuesday night. I’ve been exchanging emails and making plans with another mommy who will help me bring this together. (She is amazingly creative and a culinary wiz—just exactly the kind of person you need when you’re up to your neck in deadlines and still think it’s a good idea to throw a party.)

It’s not uncommon for me to create a ceremony or holiday celebration at the last minute; I sometimes wake up in the morning and decide we must have a wonderful, wholesome, festival dinner that night, which involves a lot of crazy scrambling around, digging in cupboards and running to the grocery store. I’m a great one for vision, but not much for planning.

I’m feeling good that I’ve started two whole days ahead this time!

We’re thinking beef and pumpkin stew, served in a pumpkin, of course! Hearty greens and other harvest sides will grace our table. We’re planning a lovely craft for the children to enjoy. And my, oh, my! How do caramel apples sound to you?  Are you drooling yet?

I can belong now to myself

And shining spread my inner light

Into the dark of space and time.

Toward sleep is urging all creation,

But inmost soul must stay awake

And carry wakefully sun’s glowing

Into winter’s icy flowing.

—Rudolf Steiner (verse for the week of September 8–14)