Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Food

triumphs and trophies

Smudge Bowl

triumphs and trophies

artfully spaced on his plate–

Smudge the Conqueror!

* * *

poetry in motion

he positions each precious treasure

precisely as he alone imagines it

before bowing his head low

to savor his hard-won

succulent entrée

featuring

feathered pea protein, duck, chicken and assorted fish flavors

compliments of Her Royal Highness

Queen Elouise

~~~

This morning I rediscovered this fun poem. It captures at least some of the frustration and glory of having a meticulous cat. Here’s hoping your day includes a wonderful surprise or two!
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 June 2014, reposted 20 July 2022
Photo taken by Elouise

Carrot and Lentil Soup Recipe | By Request

Carrot and Lentil Soup, photo by Sarah_Jayne, picHXyFzM

Here’s the yummy lentil soup I made yesterday. It smells and tastes like the lentil soups I had on our trip. I doubled the recipe–and changed spice amounts as noted below. Add water or broth as needed to keep it from going mushy and stiff. I used a combination of broth and water. Haven’t frozen any yet, but intend to. I’m also thinking about multiple variations on the theme. Read the rest of this entry »

Pink Bunny | By Request

Here it is–just the recipe you’ve been looking for! Straight from my ancient Betty Crocker cook book!

Pink Bunny

“This is an easy Sunday supper dish for busy mothers,” says Inez-Muriel McLaughlin, formerly of our staff. Read the rest of this entry »

scattered remnants

P1030828

scattered remnants

of a simple meal

simply prepared

* * *

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 February 2015
Photo credit:  DAFraser, September 2014
Portland, Oregon

perky ears

P1040072

perky ears alert

brown eyes scan for leftovers

in hillside debris Read the rest of this entry »

Starving for Sisterly Conversation | Part 3 of 3

January 9, 1996, 9:00pm, Philadelphia
The phone rings.  Hi.  It’s Diane.  I’m not well – no easy way to tell you – not post-polio, but ALS – I’m going to need help, a lot of help.  I hang up and go downstairs, weeping as I tell my family the news.

January 30, 1996, late afternoon, Houston
I walk off the plane and see Diane standing in front of a pillar.  Small floral print on navy dress, empire waist and smocked bodice – ivory stockings – very pretty – gold chains – hair highlights in blond – stoop-shouldered and slow. Read the rest of this entry »

frozen in memory

frozen in memory
erupting without warning
dear earth gasps for air

* * * * *

haunting
sounds of
choking
escalate

no words
no breath
no time Read the rest of this entry »

Starving for Sisterly Conversation | Part 1 of 3

Hunger.  A fierce, relentless presence.  Sometimes for food when I was a child, later for sisterly conversation.  Not friendly polite talk, but safe, open, honest two-way conversation about our fears, agonies and dreams as we were growing up in the 1950s.

It wasn’t that we consciously chose not to talk with each other as sisters; it just wasn’t safe.  Besides, back then I wasn’t aware of being hungry for this.  I focused instead on staying out of trouble.  Sadly, I didn’t pull that off very well. Read the rest of this entry »

triumphs and trophies

Smudge Bowl

triumphs and trophies

artfully spaced on his plate–

Smudge the Conqueror!

* * *

poetry in motion

he positions each precious treasure Read the rest of this entry »

iced ground

iced ground wind-whipped snow
mother squirrel looks for scarce food
huddled nestlings wait

*  *  *  *  *

She’s sitting on the frigid deck rail outside my kitchen window.
I’m sitting at my kitchen table, eating hot breakfast.
Her nipples stand out—she has babies to feed.
Her coat is heavy, tangled, patchy, worn.
She watches me from her icy perch.
She seems anxious, haggard.
She doesn’t rest for long.
The babies are hungry.
So is she.

I can’t help thinking about Mother. Especially after we moved out of our communal Southwest home into our one-family Southeast home. Yes, it was quiet, less frenetic. Good for Mother’s health.  But I wonder.

Being on our own as a family is a shock.  Mother is still recovering from polio, finding ways to live life without bodily functions she can’t take for granted anymore. Yet no matter how she feels, we need to eat. Three times a day.

I think about our communal home.  Here’s what Mother can’t count on anymore:

  • Women who share cooking, cleaning, and other daily chores
  • A large kitchen set up for daily cooking from scratch, with lots of workspace and storage space
  • A cellar lined with shelves of home-canned fish, vegetables, fruits, applesauce, jams, jellies and sauerkraut, plus large batches of whole wheat flour, oatmeal, sugar, powdered milk, canned milk, and other non-perishable bulk items
  • Citrus trees, berry bushes, and a large vegetable garden tended by some of the men and women
  • Chickens that lay eggs regularly; other chickens that someone can butcher for dinner
  • A dairy farm just across the highway where milk is abundant and cheap
  • Shared resources, especially when it comes to food
  • Someone to fill in for her or take care of us when she needs to rest or be away for physical therapy

Granted, it wasn’t paradise. People had to get along with each other. Some seemed to do more of their fair share than others. But we weren’t hungry, and Mother wasn’t responsible for getting it all on the table three times a day.

Haiku written 12 January 2014
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 February 2014

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