It took two tries to get to church this morning.

The first time around was an utter disaster.

Without getting into all the details, let’s just say that one of the two adults in the house busted her buns to prepare the food for the potluck and get everyone out the door while the other adult slept in and then READ A MAGAZINE while he ate his cereal. By the time everyone was buckled into car seats and the van had its nose pointed towards the road, we had five minutes for the twenty minute drive to church. Emotions skyrocketed, the car lurched back into home position, and the two adults (yes, that would be me and my Honey Love) stormed into the house to duke it out, after which I split for the bedroom, kicked off my shoes, and stuck my nose in a book.

A little later, my husband slunk his sorry self into my chambers, his hands poking up on either side of his hanging head like antlers.

“What are you, a dear?” I asked scornfully.

He ducked his head lower and waved his hands.

“A dog?”

He dropped to all fours and waved his hands harder.

“I have no idea,” I snapped.

Then he brayed “Hee-haw,” and Sweetsie, who was rolling around on the bed, yelled, “A donkey!”

“Yeah,” I said, unable to keep a straight face, “one dumb donkey, that’s for sure.”

Half an hour later, we all walked out to the car and buckled up for the second time that morning. It went so smoothly that even the kids commented how nice it was.

As he drove down the road, my husband assumed his dumb donkey position. “Hey kids! What am I?”

“You’re driving with your knees!” Nickel cheered.

“A donkey!” Sweetsie yelled.

“An ass!” her older brother shouted.

“Hee-haw!” my husband brayed.

This same time, years previous: green smoothies

I’ve been on the lookout for a good baked bean recipe. The main requirement? That it not be sweet. I’ve tried several recipes, some sweetened with just a touch of molasses or a couple glugs of maple syrup, but they were always too bland, too blah.

I love sweet baked beans, really I do, so I was starting to give up hope. Maybe I was destined to be a sweet baked bean eater only? Perhaps my taste buds were conditioned to expect lots of brown sugar and ketchup with my white beans and I would never be able to do better?

But then I tried this recipe and my baked bean lot was revolutionized. A tomato-based baked bean dish with a bit of bacon and onions and garlic, these beans only use a couple tablespoons of honey to sweeten them up. And that’s all they need! They’re rich and flavorful, and absolutely delicious. Now I have a baked bean dish I can serve without feeling guilty.

A side note: my kids didn’t go for them—but then, they don’t go for any baked beans—and they did eat up their no-thank-you serving easily enough so I have hope. And my husband said, “These could really grow on me. Regular baked beans are way too sweet.” That reserved statement, my friends, was as good as any royal stamp of approval. These beans will be our summer staple. Amen.

Baked Beans
Adapted from Simply Recipes

I used my roasted tomato sauce—it was, of course, divine (you really must can some for yourself this summer)—but you can use a standard tomato sauce, or extra tomato paste and more broth. Play around with what you have on hand.

The bacon adds good flavor—so good, in fact, that I think a quarter pound of ground sausage would be a lovely addition. I love pork.

I did not have fresh parsley on hand so I used a couple teaspoons of dried. It was fine, but I think the fresh would add a delightful kick, so if you have it, use it.

1 pound dried white beans (I used Great Northern)
1/4 pound bacon, cut in half lengthwise and then chopped into smallish pieces
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh sage (or rosemary), minced
½ teaspoon chili flakes
2 tablespoons honey
2-4 tablespoons tomato paste
1 pint roasted tomato sauce
2 cups chicken (or beef) stock
½ cup chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Soak the beans overnight. In the morning, rinse them and then simmer till soft. (Don’t forget to salt them while they’re cooking—it adds much more flavor to the final dish.)

Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven (or other heavy cooking pot) and add the chopped bacon. Once it has browned, add the onion and saute till golden brown. Add the garlic, sage, and chili and cook for one minute. Add the honey and tomato paste and cook for another minute. Add the tomato sauce and stock and stir well. Bring the beans to a simmer and check for salt.

Put a lid on the pot and slip it into a 325 degree oven. Bake for an ample hour—if the beans are still too soupy, take the lid off and let the moisture evaporate while it bakes a bit more.

Immediately before serving, stir in the fresh parsley and vinegar.

These beans can be made ahead of time, stored in the refrigerator or freezer, and then reheated in a crock pot. So stock up now—it’s summer time!

This same time, years previous: meet the gang, shredded wheat bread, rhubarb jam (this jam is best eaten fresh)

Everything feels a little surreal right now.

It all started on Wednesday night when my husband and I stayed up till midnight watching The King’s Speech (one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time), and then I dreamed I was an actress—a very talented one, I might add. Royalty and British accents were involved. It was intense and fun and kind of overwhelming, this new life of fame and memorized lines.

And then yesterday some neighbor girls came over to play and that was kind of surreal because I don’t relate to plain Mennonites in everyday life and then suddenly four of them were running around barefoot in my back yard.

Besides, my mother grew up plain Mennonite so it felt like a step back in time … but a time that was before I was.

This morning there was the royal wedding, a’course. I googled for some live streaming and was immediately immersed in the magic of it all. I couldn’t help myself. When it comes down to it, humans must be programmed to crave pomp and circumstance. (Yes, I’m slow on the uptake. Disney is not.)

In the middle of all that—staring at the computer, the kids pitter-pattering downstairs, cracking eggs into a bowl for breakfast—I learned that my distant cousin (the niece and granddaughter of some very close family and friends) committed suicide on Wednesday. Her death comes as a complete surprise to the family. She was 23.

And just like that, right there in my morning kitchen, a lovely fairytale and a family’s complete pain and devastation were standing side by side.

The contrast is surreal. I feel wobbly.