Monday, July 29, 2013

Forgiveness Chickpeas

Let me tell you about the first time I had roasted chickpeas. It was the semester before I got married, and I was living with a group of girls I didn't know very well. One of my roommates was making roasted chickpeas, but before they were done, she had to step out of the apartment for some reason. She asked me to take them out of the oven for her. I said yes.

I should be a food blogger, I know.

I took them out on time, and then proceeded to eat a bunch of them because they were delicious. I should mention that I really did not get along with this roommate ... thus mitigating any guilt I should have been feeling at stealing a bunch of her chickpeas.

This is my attempt at recreating one of those overly dramatic food-in-hand presentation shots. Because that's how people feed their kids, with both hands, like a river otter. Whatever.

It was a rough semester for us as roommates. I was engaged (i.e. oblivious to everyone around me), and she wasn't having a great semester for reasons I never fully understood because I was lame and never took the time to get to know her. So we clashed a few times, and we did not part as friends. This really bothered me, so a while ago I wrote her a message apologizing for being such a lame roomie. I had no idea how or if she would respond, so imagine my delight when she did reply, and she was very nice and even told me my kids were cute. I am so happy I emailed her. I feel so much better about it all. Except today when I was making roasted chickpeas, I remembered how I'd stolen a bunch from her ... so Roomie, if you read this one day, know that I feel bad for taking them, but also grateful that you inadvertently introduced me to the deliciousness that is a roasted chickpea.


Forgiveness Chickpeas

*1 can chickpeas/garbanzo beans (both names sound lovely, so pick your favorite)
*1-2 T olive oil
*spices/seasoning (I used Penzey's "Mural of Flavor" spice mix--delish. You can use ANY spices you want--garlic powder, cayenne, black pepper, BBQ seasoning, etc. Someone make a cinnamon sugar batch and tell me how they are ...)

I thought you needed a picture of all three ingredients. You know, in case you can't read.
Mix all ingredients and spread onto cookie sheet. Roast 30-40 minutes at 450 F.

Put foil on your cookie sheet so you don't have to do dishes! Housewife win.

Reconciliation tastes so good.

Graham loves chickpeas. I love hearing Graham say "chickpeas."

Who do you need to reconcile with? Tell me, then go write them an apology email ... or else send them a can of garbanzo beans with a nice note and this recipe.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

I'm Basically a Pioneer

I'm basically a pioneer, and here's why:

1. There's a creature living in our attic. We started hearing random scuffling/creeping noises overhead a few weeks ago, especially at night. I've chosen to believe that it is not, in fact, a poltergeist, but instead a squirrel or bird. Heaven forbid it's a bat because then we will get rabies and die true pioneer deaths.

I'm scared that one day it will fall through our ceiling and then turn to its fight or flight resources. Unfortunately, it will have to fight because with it being ninety-freaking-plus degrees outside, we keep our ACed house pretty closed up. Then I'll have to fight to defend my children from a freaked-out raccoon, or whatever it is. I just shivered thinking of how chaotic and adrenaline-filled that battle would be. Please let it not be a raccoon.

2. I had to run a mile+ home from the park in a Texas rainstorm (like walking through a shower), while pushing my cherubs in their double stroller. That made me feel a bit like a pioneer, except that I was wearing comfy running shoes, it was only a mile, and I don't think any of the handcarts had shocks on them like my stroller does. Also I knew I had a warm bath waiting for me at home. And I wasn't wearing a waterlogged cotton dress. But come on, that was the farthest I'd ran since Ruby was born, so give me a little credit.

Love this little kiddo.

It actually feels really great to run in the rain, though hearing thunder behind me made me imagine that I was running from some advancing army, desperate to get my children to safety. Then I wondered how long I could keep running if my children's lives depended on it. I mean, willpower can't completely override physical limitations. Eventually my heart would explode, or something. So would it be better to hide from the approaching troops and let them pass by? Maybe beneath a fallen tree? But how would I keep Graham and Ruby quiet? Then I thought of a horrible scene from some WWII movie about a Jewish mother who had to smother her baby because it was crying and they were hiding with another family under the floor and the Nazis were right above them. This is what happens when I run without music ... I daydream about horrible things and how I would protect my children (see above imagination about the hypothetical raccoon).

Right before it started POURING.

You should know that the imaginary army behind me is only as technologically advanced as Civil War era armies. I don't imagine tanks behind me ... just a line of troops, carrying long muskets (rifles/guns? whatever they are) with bayonets, maybe a canteen across their chest.

Ruby and I hid in the plastic play house at the playground while Graham got soaked. Trying to catch a smile on camera ...

This makes me think of my Civil War education. We covered the unit in 5th grade, while I was living in Washington. My teacher, Mrs. Leonard, was a TEXAN. Yes, all caps. She was an awesome teacher, except for the fact that she presented the Civil War in a totally Southern-biased way. The war wasn't really about slavery, Mrs. Leonard taught, but about the North trying to impose their culture of greedy capitalism and industry on the good'ol South. My sympathy for the Confederacy was only augmented by the fact that our class simulated the war by adopting characters (made into paper dolls) and following their fate through the war. My character, Jamed Byrd III, was a gentleman soldier of the confederacy. He was married to my best friend's character, and we, along with all our friends, concocted a lovely soap opera around the bloodiest war in our country's history. Poor James lost one leg below the knee (my paper doll was easily modified to fit this event with a snip of my safety scissors and the addition of some crutches), but he did make it home to meet his baby daughter.

I didn't realize I had such a skewed perception on the Civil War until embarrassingly late ... like maybe it was college when it dawned on me that when people talked about the Civil War, it was all about slavery and not at all about the poor South who just wanted to live peaceful, God-fearing lives. Oops.

3. Ok, so I can't think of anything else that gives any credibility to my pioneer-esque-ness. Off to finish my Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake. Take that, pioneers!

Ok, I thought of another one: my kid eats a lot of oatmeal.
Do you have any pioneer legitimacy? Maybe you got a blister last week? Did you light a candle recently?