Tag Archives: Maryland

Deaf Baseball and Softball Event

The California School for the Deaf in Riverside is hosting the Hoy XII Baseball and Softball Classic on April 27-28.  During this event, teams from Riverside, CA, Fremont, CA, Indiana, Texas, and Maryland will be competing against each other.  

Wasa with Scrambled Eggs, Tricolor Peppers and Leeks

Ingredients

½ cup red peppers cut into ½ in long strips
½ cup green peppers cut into ½ in long strips
½ cup yellow peppers, cut into ½ in long strips
¼ cup (2 ounces) pasteurized egg white product (may substitute 1 whole egg, beaten)
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 tablespoons leeks, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon fresh parsley, chopped
2 pieces WASA Hearty Rye Crispbread

Directions

Heat olive oil in a small skillet. Add vegetables and cook until desired tenderness.
Add egg to vegetables and cook through. Remove from heat and stir in parsley.
Spread on WASA Crispbread and serve.

TIP: Substitute ½ cup of any of you favorite vegetables for peppers.

Prep time: 15 minutes

Serves 1

Nutritional Value Per Serving

 

Calories 85
Total Fat 2 g
Saturated Fat 2 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 125 mg
Total Carbohydrate 12 g
Dietary Fiber 3 g
Protein 5 g
Calcium 2% of daily value

NOTE: Nutrition information shown is not applicable when whole egg is substituted for egg white product.

Hearty Vegetable Lentil Soup

We’ve been making this lentil soup* all winter. We finally have it down:

I pour 5 cups of organic, low sodium chicken broth into the big pot.
Ron chops 2 celery stalks, 1 large carrot, and minces 2 cloves of garlic.
I chop 1 medium onion, 1 red pepper, and 1 green pepper. Then measure out 1 cup of dry lentils.

We toss this first batch of ingredients into the pot and stir. Turn on the burner and, after it begins to boil, reduce it to a simmer for 40 minutes.

While it’s cooking, Ron and I are back to the cutting boards.

He’s got 3 red potatoes.
I have 1 zucchini.
He measures out the curry powder and basil (half a teaspoon each).
I measure out a half a cup of organic tomato sauce and drain a can of diced tomatoes.

Our second batch of ingredients goes in the pot for an extra 15 minutes at the end.

We keep sourdough bread in the freezer, and Ron thaws it out and toasts it up so we can dip it in the soup.

So tasty.

It’s the only part of winter I’m gonna miss.

~~~

*recipe from a Pritikin book I found on my parents’ bookshelf

A Time to Feast

I’m hanging out with my parents when my dad sees me frantically rubbing my thumbs against the palms of my hands.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

He wants to know why. How to explain?

My parents have been visiting the past few days. I haven’t seen them in over six months. It’s the longest period of time we’ve ever been apart (even when I lived in Europe after college I saw them at least every four months). The past few days have been one big party. We’ve eaten red meat and fried foods. We’ve had Grasshoppers (ice cream and alcohol) and cookies. I think I munched on a vegetable in there somewhere – yes, I steamed spinach one night – but other than that, I can’t say I’ve been practicing “mindful eating” since Saturday. And my home yoga regime? Completely cut off once my parents arrived (although my mom saw my mat, which was rolled out on the floor, and she practiced sun salutations).

“I’m not sure what to blog about for Wasa this week,” I finally say to my dad.

“Well, let’s think,” he says.

“I’m supposed to blog about yoga and mindful eating, but I’m not inspired given my eating habits and lack of yoga practice,” I explain.

My dad is silent for awhile. “You could talk about how yoga is important for old people like me,” he finally says. “As people age, they are at an increased risk of falling. So write in your blog that yoga is important for balance and to do yoga with a Wasa cracker.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks,” I say.

“Just trying to help,” he says.

My mom chimes in too. “Oh, I know,” she says. “Blog about the fact that we bought a juicer.”

It’s true. My parents read the Wasa blog and were inspired to buy a juicer.

“Last week we made peach juice with vodka,” my mom says. “It was delicious!” She pauses. “Am I missing the point?”

Well, I do wish they would make vegetable juice instead, but maybe I’m the one who is missing the point. As I drop them off at the airport, I know what I’m going to blog about: A Time to Feast. This week we’ve hit up good restaurants and had fun cooking in too. We played cards and watched baseball and talked, all over scones for breakfast and steaks for dinner. It was a reunion. A celebration.  A time to enjoy life. Not that we couldn’t have done that over Brussels sprouts and brown rice, but eating well most of the time makes it easier to allow the exceptions. Not to mention, those “exceptions” are much appreciated.

Bring It On

I’m about to fall asleep when my husband, Ron, reaches out and shakes my shoulder.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

“Hmmm,” I say. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

But I do know. I’m debating between various brands of juicers (Green Star or Omega – any thoughts?). Ron is going to keel over when he hears this. In the six years we’ve been together, I’ve never asked for a single item relating to the kitchen.

Not a pot.

Not a pan.

Not a knife, a spatula, or a whisk.

Growing up, I never learned how to cook. My girlfriends and I — we were women of a new generation. We were going to be doctors, lawyers, and mathematicians (and we are). There would be no time for preparing meals. (I’m not sure what our eating plan was — hired help? fast food? — we didn’t think about that part). I do vaguely recall taking a Home Economics course in high school. Men were required to take it too. We baked a pie. I stared at the aluminum container holding the crust and debated between leaving it or removing it. I wasn’t sure aluminum should go in the oven so I took it off. My pie looked more like a pancake.

People change, though.

Now I see our kitchen in a whole new light. Cooking spinach lasagna the other night, I sipped a glass of wine and turned on some tunes. I had to call my mother — twice — and ask her whether I was supposed to cook the whole wheat lasagna noodles or layer them in the dish uncooked. (The first time she said, “Cook ‘em!” and the second time she said, “Yes, I’m positive. Cook ‘’em!”) I cooked the noodles. The food was delicious. I’m no longer intimidated by the kitchen. Bring on the juicer! Š

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