I was the only one in my family who liked this soup, so I’m not going to tell you you’ll love it when I know good and well that some of you won’t. I’ll let you make that call.

As for me (but not my household), I adored it.

That my family is not on board with me regarding this soup is cause for deep mourning. Their foolishness grieves me.

The soup is among the simplest of simple, just a sprinkling of cornmeal and a flurry of beet greens stirred into a chicken broth base. Comforting, nourishing, and earthy, it’s the perfect cold-weather and fight-the-flu soup.

You can use other greens in place of the beet greens—in fact, the original recipe called for baby spinach—but my mom had just given us several bags of garden goodness, among which were a passel of beets that I topped and roasted, but before tossing the greens to the chickens, I fished out the prettiest leaves, roughly chopped them up and then set them aside for the soup.

(Believe me, the soup was much easier to make than that sentence was to write. Stringing all those words together has plum tuckered me out. I only have short sentences left it me now. Watch…)

Incorporating beet greens into a soup made me feel cultured.

And edified.

Beet greens are edifying.

My family resists my efforts to edify them.

I love ‘em anyway.

I can do that since I’m so edified, see.

Rustic Cornmeal Soup with Beet Greens
Adapted from the October 2010 issue of Bon Appetit

Knowing that my family would most likely revolt, I cut the recipe in half, and, minus a couple small bowlfuls that the rest of them managed to choke down under my watchful eye, I ate the whole pot myself. (And then I pigged out on pulled beef.)

I think crumbled bacon might be a nice addition. And perhaps a chopped boiled egg? I also think the soup is perfect as is. You decide.

3 ½ cups chicken (or vegetable) broth
6 tablespoons coarse cornmeal
1 ½ tablespoons flour
1 ½ tablespoons butter
1 clove garlic, minced
coarse salt
black pepper
4 ounces red beet greens, roughly chopped

Bring the broth to simmer in a small saucepan. In a larger saucepan set over medium-high heat, stir together the cornmeal and flour and slowly whisk in a cup of the hot broth. Add the garlic and butter and sprinkle with some salt. Slowly add the remaining broth, whisking all the while so that the mixture stays creamy smooth. Simmer on low heat, stirring frequently, for about 20 minutes. Stir in the greens and simmer another 5 minutes. Season and serve.

Yield: 3 servings

This same time, years previous: Donuts!!! Sweet Rolls!!!

Are you familiar with Lenore Skenazy and her blog (and book) called Free-Range Kids?

If you’re not, you should be. She’s awesome, and she’s all about letting kids be kids.

So, with a head nod in Lenore’s general direction, here are some recent shenanigans from my hooligans.

Shenanigan Number One: the vertical swing/trapeze

I’m not quite sure how it works, but it involves ropes and altitude and upper body strength.

Now it’s big sister-in-a-red-sequined-skirt’s turn.

Once she gets up high, little brother grabs the other ropes and sets her a-swinging.

Think I could sell them to the circus?

Shenanigan Number Two: the super-duper wheelie trick

Hook a cable (or pulley or something circular and metallic) to a tree and a rope to the cable and a bike to the rope. While staying on the bike, pull yourself (and subsequently the bike) up with the rope.

Look at the porch to make sure your mom is getting a good shot of your incredible prowess…

and then gratefully lower the bike back down.

Whew!

Shenanigan Number Three: the stunted zip-line

Hook one end of a cable (pulley? something circular and metallic?)-sporting rope to the swing set. Hook the other end to a tree. Climb up so you can reach the cable at the higher end of the rope, jump off, and sail down till your butt runs aground.

Note: No parents supervised these games and no children were injured.

This same time, years previous: a touchy subject: my thoughts on spanking, the donut party: part one (We’re hosting it again in two weeks! Wish us luck, or better yet, come help!)

Each night, about a half hour after falling asleep, I wake up with a violent case of the shivers. One minute I am peacefully slumbering and the next minute my teeth are chattering, I’m curling into a fetal position, scooching my back up against Mr. Handsome, frantically wailing, I’m so cold. I’m so cold. I’msocoldI’msocoldI’msocold!

Sometimes Mr. Handsome wakes up enough to sling an arm over me in a half-hearted attempt to warm me up/shut me up, and other times he just snaps grumpily, Go back to sleep, and turns his back.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this except that it’s a nightly ritual and it’s strange and I have no control over it whatsoever and I find it interesting. (It’s kind of like my itchy nose. Every time I go for a run, my nose starts to itch right at the mile mark. I scratch it vigorously for about a quarter of a mile when it suddenly stops itching. Odd, but true.)

Maybe somebody should do a study on me?

Anyway, now that it’s October and it’s actually getting chilly at night, I expect that my night shivers will worsen. Or maybe they’ll go away all together. Who knows?

In any case, it’s fall, people! We lit our first fire in the wood stove a couple days ago, the garden is almost totally tucked in for the winter, and I’m making all things apple. (I’m attempting to learn how to make The Best Apple Dumplings In The World, so if you have any family secrets, please whisper them in my ear, ‘kay?)

This morning we went to the Mennonite relief sale, watched the auction, lounged about in the sun, and feasted on donuts. When we got home, I ran over to our local greenhouse for some mums that I then potted in preparation for our donut party that will be happening, weather permitting, in a couple weeks. In my corner of the world, fall equals donuts. Lots and lots of donuts.

I’ve been tired lately, not because of the Violent Shivers or the donut overload, but because I’m going to bed too late. Mr. Handsome made me watch a Clint Eastwood shoot-‘em-up movie the other night, and it took me an hour to convince him that it was in our best interest to shut it off and go to sleep. But then we had to finish it last night, and of course the second half is packed with lead and almost zero conversation—so totally non-realistic, but even so, while Clint fired bullets at anything that had two legs, I huddled on the sofa with a blanket over my head and fired questions at Mr. Handsome till he exploded at me.

So there you have it. I’m a pain to sleep with and a pain to watch movies with. That my husband loves me nonetheless is rather miraculous.

I don’t know why I’m rattling on about all this stuff when what I really want to do is tell you about our supper. I made several different dishes this evening, all of which I loved but none of which they (the rest of the family) loved. That is, except for this one. They loved this.

It’s pulled braised beef and it’s simple to make: brown a hunk of meat and toss it in a Dutch oven with onions, barbecue sauce, beef broth and a few other seasonings and bake it to death, after which you shred it to pieces with a couple forks and serve it up on rolls (or with slices of buttered bread) to a bunch of hungry people who will eat it like there is no tomorrow and then gaze upon you with love and admiration shining in their eyes.

Pulled Braised Beef
Adapted (not hardly even) from Julie of Dinner with Julie

The recipe called for four pounds of top round beef roast, so I went to the butcher shop and bought that amount. (The guy had to go to into the back to fetch it and it took him so long that I feared they’d had to start from ground zero with a live cow.) But then this afternoon I stared at the enormous hunk of meat and decided that half that amount would be sufficient for now (and it was). The other half now resides in my freezer, waiting for its braising heyday. Which will probably arrive sooner rather than later…

If you wish, you can do this in a slow cooker instead of an oven. Simply cook it on low for 6-8 hours.

2 pounds eye of round or top round beef roast
1-2 tablespoons canola or olive oil
2 onions, sliced in half and then thinly sliced cross-ways
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 ½ cups barbecue sauce
1 ½ cups beef broth
2 tablespoons grainy mustard
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons brown sugar

Heat the oil in a large pan and brown the beef on all sides. Removed the beef and deglaze the pan with some of the broth. Save the liquid.

Combine the remaining ingredients in a Dutch oven, nestle the browned beef down in, and pour the deglazing liquid over top. Make sure that the saucy liquid comes halfway up the meat.

Tightly lid the pan and bake at 300 degrees for 4-6 hours. The meat will be tender and the juices will have reduced and thickened. Using two forks, shred the beef. Serve on rolls.

Yield: enough for 8-12 sandwiches, depending on how full you stuff them

This same time, years previous: serious parenting, comparisons, elaboration on comparisons