Under a Red Roof

What a Difference

July 21, 2010 in Celebrating, Remembering by Colleen | 3 comments

I’ve been thinking all morning about the past year, the 365 days since I had my hysterectomy. So much of what I feel is a jumble, of memories, and emotions, and wonder. Did all of that pain and suffering really happen, and to me? Despite the fact that I have four scars to prove it, it is hard to fathom that I ever was different from the woman I am now, one glorious year later.

For right now, all I feel is gratitude and a deep in my bones feeling that all is right, utterly and perfectly so, with the world. Part of it is the physical progress I’ve made over the past year. I feel so much better. I am not in constant pain. I’m on a very minimal dose of hormones (soon to be none, I think), and I’ve lost the weight I gained on the awful ones. I no longer need to take iron to cope with the massive surgical blood loss, not to mention the huge deficit every time my period came calling. I am a healthy woman, inside and out.

Most importantly, I feel an immense sense of gratitude for the ways I took care of myself by letting go. I let go of the notion that my pain was okay, that it wasn’t interfering with my life. Sure, I had innumerable ways of coping, of managing, but, looking back, I can’t honestly say that I was truly living. To be even more honest, I didn’t believe I deserved to experience that other life – the one where I was a good and valuable person, one who didn’t need to suffer. What a difference a year makes! Now I know, and in this moment, the only moment that I have, feel truly deserving of a joyous post surgical life.

In this life, I don’t have to fix myself to be a success. I can ask for the help of doctors, nurses, and the people I love. In this life, I am not ashamed of what I cannot do and very proud of what I can (Write! Bake! Garden!). I matter. I am important. I am worthy of all that is good, great, and spectacular! So are we all. Thanks for being part of my journey.

Happy Birthday Buddy! I love you!

Tags: Endometriosis

For Craig

July 15, 2010 in Remembering, Writing by Colleen | Permalink

I know that your heart lies shattered,

Pieces strewn about the floor,

Waiting for your attention,

Waiting for your care.

Until that time arrives,

Until you have shed the tears still welling within you,

Tears for your brother and and the delicately fierce bonds of family,

Know that you are not alone.

The small hands you’ve enveloped in joy,

The eyes that have gazed upon you in admiration and wonder,

The ears that have heard your laugh and been made better by it,

The hearts touched by your caring,

Are collective souls hoping to buoy your spirit in this time of mourning

And return in small part what you have given so freely.

Colleen Sohn

Tags: Poetry

Hello Cupcake

July 7, 2010 in Cooking + Baking, Remembering by Colleen | 2 comments

When I was in high school and college, I worked at an Italian family restaurant. It was very homey, decorated for every holiday, and served really good food. It was red sauce galore, pizza, great steaks, pepperoni on the salad, and one of the best sandwiches in the world – The Sausage Special. Made on garlic bread with green chiles and just a touch of that sauce, it made me ever so happy. Whenever I visit my parents, a visit must be made to indulge.

It was the eighties, and there was lots of drama at the restaurant, not to mention make-up, big hair, big clothes, and personalities to match, save one. The sister of the owner, Aunt Liz, was a hostess on one of the shifts I worked. I loved her. She was soft spoken and kind, beautiful without a stitch of make up, had great style, close cropped hair, and made this awesome strawberry cake. She brought it in a 13×9 pan with a metal lid that slid across the top, like the lip gloss that I loved. To be honest, the cake could have been pretty average, and I may still have liked it, just for the sake of the container. I am that kind of person. But, it wasn’t just the tin, the cake was gorgeous and delicious. So strawberry! So summer!

I got the recipe from her but never made it, but it has been on my mind lately. The memories of it have been clearer. So yesterday, when I got an awesome deal on organic strawberries (three pounds for two dollars!) I made these cupcakes in homage to her. They aren’t Aunt Liz’s recipe – hers were the frozen in syrup kind – but boy oh boy are they delicious and cute as a button. We shared them with the neighbors, but mum’s the word if you want to eat them all yourself. You just might.

Adapted from 1 Mix, 100 Muffins, by Susanna Tee

Strawberry Cupcakes

1 cup flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 cup milk

6 tablespoons sunflower or other mild oil

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup strawberries, hulled

Preheat the oven to 400. Grease or line a 12 cup muffin pan. Sift the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt, in a large bowl. Puree the eggs, milk, oil, vanilla, and strawberries (I used a large measuring cup and my trusty hand blender). Pour over the dry ingredients, and stir gently until just combined. Do not overmix.

Spoon the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until well risen, golden brown, and firm to the touch. Allow to cool for five minutes in the pan before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Strawberry Frosting

1/4 cup strawberries, hulled

4 tablespoons butter, slightly softened

1/4 cup shortening

pinch salt

1 1/2 – 2 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Puree the strawberries (again, the hand blender in a measuring cup – or mash with a fork), set aside. Beat together the butter, shortening, and salt, until light and fluffy. Reduce mixer speed and slowly add 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, beat until combined. Add the strawberry puree and mix just until blended. You may need the extra 1/2 cup of powdered sugar here, if the frosting is too wet.

Frost your cooled cupcakes and top with strawberry halves, if you like.

Enjoy!

Tags: Cooking and Baking, Recipes

Strong Opinions

June 21, 2010 in Cooking + Baking, Learning, Remembering by Colleen | 1 comment

Two bits of deliciousness for you this morning, pizza and cake. I read an article on pizza in one of the fancy food magazines. It was rather long and somewhat interesting and highlighted a small town back east that has two very famous pizza joints that have been there a terribly long time. I guess there is quite an either/or dichotomy going on. You aren’t, apparently, allowed to like the pizza at both places. I have to say that I abhor (strong word, I know) rules like this. I don’t like being told whether or not I should have certain feelings. This is not up to other people. It is up to me. Anyway, as I was reading, I had this rather cinematic a-ha moment. She and Him was playing in the background and I swear Zooey Deschanel hit a high note when I read this sentence: Let the pizza dough rise for twenty-four hours.

I don’t know how many of you make your own thin crust pizza and wondered why it just isn’t as good as those places in the article, or for the hubster and I, Lombardi’s in Manhattan, and Grimaldi’s at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge. I am savvy in the kitchen, but ever since taking a bite of that gooey, chewy deliciousness on an idyllic summer day, I was pretty stumped. The crust never tasted as good as theirs, never had that wonderful texture. Then that sentence jumped off the page, and I had it. The secret wasn’t in the yeast or the flour or the water. It was all about time. Give it time. So, the day before you want your pizza, make your favorite dough. Punch it down the next morning and let it rise again, until the oven is smoking hot (we put ours at 500) and your ingredients are ready. Then wait for the magic moment when you slide that bad boy out of the oven and you take your first bite. Heaven.

Though we didn’t follow our pizza with dessert – we were too full of cheese for that, I am following my thoughts on it with this delicious upside down cake. There is a restaurant in town, which shall remain nameless, that actually has the gall to put instant butterscotch pudding as the brown sugar and butter layer. Words cannot describe the horror of my first bite. This is not cake; it is a travesty. This recipe is the real deal, and, to be honest, it is probably easier and cheaper than buying that instant stuff, seriously. You can make it with pineapple, peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, or apples. It’s really hard to go wrong.

Fruity Upside Down Cake

adapted from the Better Homes and Gardens Cook Book, 75th Anniversary Edition

2 tablespoons butter

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 tablespoon water

Enough fruit to cover the bottom of the pan – I used two sliced nectarines and three maraschino cherries

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cup all purpose flour

1/3 cup sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

2/3 cup milk

1/4 cup butter, grated with the small holes of a cheese grater

1 egg, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350. Melt two tablespoons of butter and 1/3 cup brown sugar in a small saucepan. Add the water and stir until combined. Pour into an ungreased 8″ square pan. Carefully arrange your fruit in a pretty pattern over the syrup.

In a medium mixing bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, and baking powder. Add the milk, butter, egg, and vanilla. Stir until combined. Spoon the batter over the fruit in the prepared pan.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool for five minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the pan to loosen, and invert onto a plate. This is best served warm.

Enjoy!

p.s.

When I called the hubster down to have some cake, he said, “Wow! That’s pretty. Did you take a picture?” This coming from the guy who likes to tease, “Um can I eat, or do I have to wait for the camera?”

Tags: Cooking and Baking, Recipes

A Honeymoon Memory

April 5, 2010 in Remembering by Colleen | 1 comment

My mind is mushy, and I have been glued to my seat for nearly two hours trying to write a post. I’ve deleted a lot of sentences and looked at a lot of pictures. I kept coming back to this one. I love that smile. It is so alive and full of content, a pleasure every time I see it. It reminded me of the times I was happiest to see it, like our wedding day, and when I woke up from my surgery last year. I was groggy, and a doctor was asking me my name and if I was okay, and then Greg’s face appeared and I felt such a rush of love. He was there and smiling at me, too!

I then remembered another occasion, long ago. We were midway through our honeymoon, a two month backpacking adventure across Europe. We decided to take a vacation within our vacation in Nice, as spending a couple of nights in a city before moving on was wearing on us, so we found a neat hotel that had a full kitchen where we could make our own food, enjoy cold beverages from an actual refrigerator, eat bowls of cereal, and loll about on the beach. It was grand.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite enough. We found that we not only needed a vacation from our vacation but one from each other as well. So we made plans to spend the next day apart. Gregory wanted to find a book to read, and I was keen on doing a little shopping and wandering the streets on my own. It started out marvelously, for it was June, and the weather lovely, and Nice is a very walkable city. I was strolling and enjoying the sights when, rather unfortunately, I encountered a man who perhaps took my street walking a bit too literally? He decided he would walk with me, despite my sincere protests to the contrary. I was not at all happy with this arrangement, but this guy would not leave me alone. Thankfully, his shoe came untied, and as he stopped to fix it, I made a break for it. I don’t think I’ve ever moved as swiftly as I did then. When I looked back and realized I was free of his company, I was so elated! But the exhilaration of losing him didn’t last long, as I fretted that I would see him again, and I returned to the hotel, slightly defeated.

Upon entering the room, I saw the hubster lying on the bed, his magical smile looking back at me, and all was right with the world! As it turns out, his day was less than ideal, as well. He tried to buy a book, but it wouldn’t ring up correctly, and the women at the store asked him questions, to which he could give no reply, for his interpreter (moi) was not with him, and the only sentence he knew was of ill use. “I don’t speak French, but my wife does.”

It was a great reminder of how wonderful it is to be together, and so we have stayed.