She's Never Been an Eater: Mom's Peach Coconut Smoothie

This is the smoothie my mom drinks everyday without complaint. I have to say, "without complaint," because this 120 pound 85 year-old is not a fan of our mostly vegetarian lifestyle. Although she did tell me this week that my quiche was my best effort yet. Thank you eggs, flour, milk and frozen pie crust.
I boost this smoothie with coconut oil to feed mom's brain and for her gut, either Straus Family Creamery Maple yogurt or their peach kefir. I add protein powder for obvious reasons and coconut milk for a healthy fat. This is a case where every item is organic.

Caroline's Peach Coconut Smoothie

1/2 cup coconut milk

1 tablespoon Coconut oil

2-4 tablespoons peach kefir or Maple yogurt

A heaping scoop of protein powder

1 small handful frozen peaches

Nana's Cookbooks -- Mrs. R. Forster's Meatloaf

The day before my mom arrived to live with us, I discovered three of her mum's cookbooks in zip lock bags wedged between cookbooks on my kitchen shelf. I completely forgot I had them.

When a sister and I emptied our childhood home five years ago, they were one of the few things I brought home to Kauai. The cookbooks are from the Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire, Evangeline Chapter, Halifax Nova Scotia. Those are the words on the yellowed cover.

Hundreds of tiny paragraphs describe everything from Fairy Fluff to Meatloaf. For my mother's first meal, I made a meatloaf contributed to the cookbook by a "Mrs. R. Forster." Yes, the vegetarian household took a radical turn, and yum, it was delicious, and no, Wes did not partake.




Here's the recipe exactly as Mrs. R. Forster wrote it. I clarify some points at the end of the recipe instructions.

1/2 pound sausage meat
2 lbs. round steak ground
1 egg lightly beaten
1 can condensed tomato soup
1/2 cup minced onion
2 cups soft breadcrumbs
1/4 cup water
1 1/2 salt, pepper
2 tblsp. poultry seasoning
Turn into a greased loaf pan, and bake in a pan of warm water in a hot oven for 1 hour.

I used organic ground beef from Costco and the ground pork from Cost-U-Less. I didn't have canned tomato soup. I used half a can of tomato paste. My mom says a "hot" oven is 375 degrees. I reduced cooking time to 48 minutes because I prefer meat undercooked a bit. This is a rock solid recipe that made really good sandwiches for the following week.

Enjoy! We did.

One Confession, One Digression, a Haiku and Soursop Coconut Scones

Scones are my super power. 

And with great power comes great responsibility. For one, a person with a super power should use it only for good. So my wielding It as a bribe for doing good in the world of non-profit organizations is justified, right? 

The confession: Take for instance the two years I worked as volunteer coordinator for Kauai Humane Society. Record numbers of volunteers would turn out for mailings if I sweetened the deal with fresh baked scones. 

Proof positive, there are too few bakers in the world, so a flaky pastry warm out of the oven is a much coveted thing. 

In 1985, at Macy’s European Coffee House in Flagstaff, I trained to be an early morning baker with a hippy chic named Sue Bug. Sue was the only employee with a “bug” at the end of her name, the rest of us answered to “bob,” as in Tim Bob, the owner and Lynn Bob, the manager. Friends I still know from that time refer to it as the Macy’s “Bob” era.

It wasn’t long before other people began to notice how my scones were different from those made from the same recipe. At Macy’s in the 80s we measured dry ingredients in giant metallic scoops and our spices, by the handful: x scoops of flour and sugar to x handfuls of cinnamon, cardamom, all spice or what-have-you. 

Another baker working there at the time explained the excellence of my scones according to karma: “You had a grandmother who baked scones for you in a past life.” 

I don’t know about karma or if the size of my hands happened to be the best size for measuring dry ingredients. What I do know is when Sue Bug trained me, she emphasized texture and appearance of the dry ingredients as I added liquid at the end of preparation. This is why the following recipe has no exact measurement for the soursop juice. Because of the humidity of our tropical climate, I can’t count on an exact measure. I begin with a scant ¾ cup of juice and drizzle in according to texture from there.

This is not the Macy’s recipe. The original recipe came from Julia Smith, a lovely Westside kupuna who has since passed, so I’m unable to trace its roots. I’ve been tweaking this recipe for 10 years so feel pretty safe calling it my own. 

At the Café 

Crossed legs, chin on fist

Her gaze studies vacant air

Words collect like dew 

Digression

Location: Sitting at a window in Ha Coffee Bar in Lihue, I sigh with contentment. In five days my 85 year-old mom moves back in with my husband and I. To my left is my friend Lois Ann working on a paper for her teaching program and across from her is Kim, writing a post for her blog. I’ve been writing with these two women for 8 years. Ours is a friendship that grew from our love of story and matured into a hui of respect and mutual support seasoned with laughter. This writing life would be so lonely without them.

Back to the recipe:

I begin with a base that evolves into either date/cherry, date/cranberry, mango/coconut, carrot/walnut and most recently, this soursop/coconut version. I change sugar types according to the texture I seek, and introduce wheat or rice flours on occasion. This recipe is amenable to many types of fresh or dry fruit. Just add fruit to dry ingredients and feel free to switch the liquid according to taste. I use either buttermilk, orange juice or soursop juice. I always prefer something grown close to home and the soursop is 30 feet from my kitchen door. 

Soursop Coconut Scones

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Notes: I use a food processor, but it’s not mandatory. If you don’t have a processor, work the butter into the dry ingredients until it is the texture of gravel. They will still come out flaky and perfect.

I live in a hot climate so always use frozen butter.

Combine:

3 cups flour

½ cup white sugar

1 Tbl. baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

Add:

¾ cup frozen unsalted butter

Mix until gravelly.

Transfer from the food processor into a large bowl.

Add:

¾ cup coconut flakes. I prefer the wider ribbons vs. the thin shredded style

2 cups chopped Madjool dates

Add:

½ cup sour cream. Mix in lightly.

Add a scant 3/4 cup liquid, in this case soursop juice. Only add enough to pull dough together. There should be dry ingredients still visible in the dough. Plop spoonfuls of dough on to an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.

Scones bake faster on the black cookie sheet. If using black, bake 18 minutes; if using aluminum, bake 22 minutes.

Change comes by the dozen. When my life flipped end-over-end this fall with a change of career, an addition to the household (the mother-in-law) and a drastic turn in my own mom's health, I fell out of my body, or at least that is what if felt like. While driving my car, cooking or even talking to my husband, I was a witness floating some distance from the action.
I returned this week from an extended visit to my mother, knowing that it could well be the last time I see her alive.
While in San Diego at my sister's house, I sat crying on the couch one night after putting mom to bed. Nancy tried to help me transcend despair by explaining a strategy for shifting my attitude, but I wasn't getting it. She resorted to sharing a letter received from a friend that was a response to one Nancy had written while in a crisis. Instead of a return letter addressing the specifics of Nancy's rant, Nina wrote her a love letter.
It was the most beautiful and effective reaction to what for Nancy was a dire situation. Nina simply listed everything she adores about my sister by citing examples of her generosity and kindness.
Today is my mom's 81st birthday. Before leaving San Diego I sat down and wrote a love letter to my mom that goes something like this:
Dear Mom, there is so much I love about you. I love that you never made us wear shoes as kids, that dessert was a part of every dinner and how on my birthday I'd wake to the crinkle of wrapped presents at the foot of my bed. I love you for my strongest memory of bedtime being how you wished me "Pleasant dreams" before closing my bedroom door. I love how you asked about my dreams on our drives to school and how you listened as I leaned across the bench seat of our station wagon to talk in your ear. I love that in your purse I could always find a crumpled tissue blotted with a dozen imprints of your lips; gum, cough drops, Band-aides and a worn out nail file. I love that you never left the house without spraying three squirts of perfume around your neck or a Fresca tucked into your purse. I love that when I call, you want to talk, and when we hang up, you try to end with a positive. Today it was, "Don't forget to breathe in and breathe out, Pam." I love that when I read to you aloud you correct my mispronunciations. I love how fearless you are, which made you reckless, but also inspired admiration for your toughness. I love how you fully embraced your motto, "God is my co-pilot."
Happy birthday Mom.
Thank you Nancy and Nina, for giving me a formula for stepping away from fear and toward love.