• George Washington Carver sweet potato soup with peanut butter and ginger

    In the morning after I fix my coffee, locate my reading glasses, and snatch a piece of scrap paper out of the desk drawer, I write up a to-do list for all of us. Each child has chores, plus academics. List-making is the only way I can stay on the ball and keep everyone on task. Otherwise, a child might wander off and, without her in my line of vision, I may forget that, oh yes, I wanted her to empty the compost, write an essay, and wash the eggs. So I put all my ideas and goals on paper, first thing in the morning.

    Lunch was late today because everyone was on a roll. My older son was practicing his choir music in his room. My older daughter was rewriting an essay we had just edited together. My younger daughter was doing some self-initiated letter writing. My younger son was in the downstairs room listening to a recording of Story of the World while jumping around and waving a wooden stake. While I waited for them to wrap it up, I pulled leftovers from the fridge and began reheating them: broccoli soup, chili, chicken and rice, and, for me, George Washington Carver soup.

    I first had this soup at my mother’s house. We had stopped by one evening to say hi to their out-of-town guests (and maybe to pick up some of our children? I can’t remember now). When we arrived, they were just sitting down to their dinner of Carver soup, onion-corn bake, sauteed greens, and cake (I think). We pulled up chairs, intending to visit for a bit before heading back home. Mom, of course, invited us to eat, too, but we said no. However, she was insistent that I taste the soup. Fine, I said, and watched as she ladled a small scoop into a bowl, plopped a dollop of sour cream in the center, and sprinkled chopped peanuts on top.

    One bite and my eyes widened. Wow, I said.

    “I know.” she whispered. “I think it may be the best soup I ever made.”

    I finally got around to making the soup for myself just last week. The soup appears plain and dull, but it’s anything but. There’s so much going on: the sweet potatoes give it a creamy sweetness, the peanut butter adds richness, the fresh ginger and cayenne give it a bite, and the spices (cumin! coriander! cloves! cinnamon!) supply depth and complexity. It’s like a kaleidoscope for the taste buds. Enjoy!
     

    George Washington Carver Sweet Potato Soup with Peanut Butter and Ginger 
    Adapted from a recipe that my mother’s friend, Lois, found in a some flyer, magazine, or newspaper. 

    I used about ¼ cup fresh ginger, and the ginger flavor did not overwhelm. Also, I substituted ground chipotle pepper in place of the cayenne, and, while I thought the spice was pleasant, one of the children thought it was too spicy: be discerning.

    This soup freezes well. To save freezer space, my mother omits much of the liquid when making the soup, and then adds the liquid when she is reheating the soup.

    ½ cup peanut oil, divided
    2 sweet potatoes (about 2 pounds), peeled and roughly chopped
    2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
    1 onion, roughly chopped
    2 cloves garlic, minced
    2 teaspoons (or more) fresh ginger, minced
    2 teaspoons each ground cumin and ground coriander
    ½ teaspoon cinnamon
    ¼ teaspoon each ground cloves and chipotle powder (or cayenne)
    ½ cup roasted tomato sauce
    8 cups chicken broth (or water)
    ½ cup creamy peanut butter
    salt
    condiments, optional but highly recommended: fresh cilantro, dry-roasted peanuts, and sour cream.

    Toss the sweet potatoes, carrots, and onion with all but 2 tablespoons of the peanut oil. Spread the veggies on a sided baking sheet, sprinkle with plenty of salt, and roast at 375 degrees for 30 minutes, or until fork-tender. 

    Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of peanut oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, ginger, and remaining spices and saute for half a minute. Stir in the tomato sauce, peanut butter, stock, and roasted veggies. Stir well and simmer for 15 minutes. Using an immersion stick blender (or a stand one), puree the soup. Taste to correct seasonings: you’ll probably need a fair bit of salt.

    To serve, pour the soup into serving bowls and top with sour cream, fresh cilantro, and chopped dry-roasted peanuts.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.10.14), butternut squash galette with caramelized onions and goat cheese, the quotidian (11.11.13), the quotidian (11.11.12), mashed sweet potatoes, a boy book, chicken and white bean chili, and peanut butter cream pie.    

  • the quotidian (11.9.15)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    With sweet potatoes, chicken pot pie.
    My view while taking the laundry off the line.

    Leftover summer.

    Treats and reads, post-Halloween.
    For a leaf fort.

    My older son bought a computer and then built a desk to put it on.

    Off to work!
    Self-selected screen time for the younger two: once a week for about ten minutes (per child).
    Indoor rainbows.

    Perhaps I take “wearing it out” a little too seriously? 

    This same time, years previous: musing from the coffee shop, for the time change, awkward, “How are you different now?”, maple roasted squash, meat and cabbage rolls, yesterday, let me sum up, Halloween candy-infused brownies, and crispy cinnamon cookies.      

  • meatloaf

    My older son requested meatloaf for his birthday dinner. I have tried to blog about meatloaf before, but never successfully. There are reasons for this.

    1. The recipe we love is so basic that I feel kind of sheepish.
    2. All my fancy meatloaf experimentation has yielded non-inspirational results.
    3. I don’t make meatloaf that often because it’s a lot of meat.
    4. Meatloaf photos are kind of gross.

    But then my son requested it and the whole family was so excited so I decided to just buck up and share the recipe because we totally love it and that ought to be enough reason, right? The only problem: I never got a photo of the finished meatloaf. By the time it finished baking, we were in festive-meal chaos mode and I forgot.

    When I realized my mistake, all but one nub of loaf had already disappeared down the hatch, and then that last nub was gone, too. You’re not missing much, though. Just imagine a long log of cooked ground beef, the bottom of the baking dish covered with a film of juicy fat. Really, not impressive. But it sure is delicious!

    Meatloaf
    Adapted from the Mennonite Community Cookbook, by Mary Emma Showalter.

    The original recipe calls for capping the meatloaf with raw bacon pre-baking, but I skip that step. To serve the meatloaf, I remove it from the yuck-looking baking dish and place it on a clean plate. Then I slice the loaf to facilitate the serving process and to limit the kids from going hogwild.

    For Birthday Boy’s dinner, I served the meat loaf with these outrageously delicious potatoes cooked in cream (as well as corn and green beans and sourdough bread and shoofly pie with ice cream): a killer combo.

    1 onion, chopped
    1 cup of bread crumbs
    2 egg, lightly beaten
    1 generous cup milk (or tomato juice)
    2 teaspoons salt
    ½ teaspoon black pepper
    2 pounds ground beef

    Combine everything but the ground beef and let sit for 15 minutes to soften. Add the ground beef and stir to combine (I use my hands). Put the mixture in a 9 x 13 baking dish and shape into a loaf. Do not pack the meat. Bake at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes. Slice and eat. Serve with ketchup.

    With the leftovers: make a sandwich of thinly sliced meatloaf, mayonnaise, spicy mustard, and lots of sweet pickles.

    This same time, years previous: when your child can’t read, the quotidian (11.4.13), the nighttime barkies, piano lessons, laid flat, lemon squares, and living history.