Cancer, cancer everywhere

We all know someone who has cancer, had cancer, beat cancer, or died of cancer.  “Survivor” no longer refers to an 80’s hair band – it’s a word for anyone who has received the diagnosis and come out the other side alive.

These days, cancer is more than a disease: it’s an industry. Millions of people in the U.S. send money to Susan Komen and run in marathons supporting “the cure.” We devour news articles telling us how to avoid the scourge, and run to the store to stock up on vitamins and super-foods that may fight those evil, interloping cells.

A decade ago, women everywhere watched Kim Cattrall’s Samantha don a hot pink wig on Sex and the City, and applauded as she plucked off her wig and shared her chemo-induced baldness with a ballroom full of VIPs.

Lance Armstrong taught us to “Live Strong.”  Kris Carr brought us “Crazy Sexy Cancer.”

My own family history is rife with cancer battles lost and won.  “Amma” Stanley, my maternal grandmother and a life-long chain smoker, had breast cancer but died with cancer cells riddling every part of her body, from bone to brain.  Grandma McDaniel died within a week of being diagnosed with adult-onset leukemia.  My mother battled breast cancer seven years ago and is, today, one of the aforementioned survivors  -- and a healthy and vital one, at that.

Yes, cancer is everywhere.  It’s enough to make any woman “of a certain age” a little antsy.

While 40 is the magic number for most, my sister and I have been getting annual mammograms for years now, far sooner than most women bother.  We’ve half-joked that it’s only a matter of time, given our lousy genes.

So when my sister called last week with news that her mammogram had returned with abnormalities, I can’t say that I was entirely surprised.

Horrified, yes.  Surprised, no.

Since she’s a seven-hour drive away, we exchanged comforting platitudes by phone and text.  From me, “I’m sure it’s nothing – just a shadow on the x-ray,”and, “Everything will be just fine.”  From her, “There’s no point in worrying about it. I’m not worried.”

We left the rest unsaid.

We’re both Type A personalities, so when we’re scared, we tend to do two things: 1) Ignore whatever is frightening us; and 2) Get mad.

It’s an involuntary reaction.  Fearfulness acknowledges something frightening, whereas anger implies that you can forcefully beat the scary thing into dust.  For better or worse, our “fight or flight” response always defaults to beating the tar out of whatever was foolish enough to alarm us in the first place.

So we told each other sweet-sounding lies and ignored what was really rattling around in both our brains:  Is this it? The rise of those awful genes?

So today, I’m taking my fear out on this keyboard, banging and clacking instead of tip-tapping as usual.  Today, there is anger, and fear, and worry.

And tomorrow, we will know.

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Update, April 16:  Sister is GOOD!  She lost 30 pounds last year, which resulted in her recent films veering wildly from her baseline -- her normal tissue is smaller and more compressed, which made it look like there were masses.  This is something to keep in mind if you're ever in a similar spot!

R2 has left the building

I’ve never been a crafty person. My sister has always been the artist, the interior designer, the girl who looks like a million bucks wearing three dollars worth of clothes and accessories from the thrift store.

When I, on the other hand, purchase clothing at the thrift store…well, let’s just say that it isn’t pretty.

That is not to say that I never try to create art. I’m not bad with pastels; I made some nice still life compositions back in college, and every so often I’ll pull out the old tools to sketch a particularly lovely apple or tomato. I totally get down with Play-Doh, and don’t mind admitting that I can make a mean alligator and a darn cute frog out of anything moldable.

But I’m abysmal with oil paints; those inevitably end in disaster. I have much better luck with acrylics – especially if I can label the end-result “abstract.”

But crafts? Not so much. Evidently, I didn’t get that gene.

My mom is an amazingly talented floral designer; she makes wreaths that make me want to weep. And my sister can create absolutely anything! She’ll buy a table at a garage sale, add some paint or decoupage, and turn it into a family heirloom. Photo spreads of her kids’ rooms should grace the pages of Parenting magazine.

My kids are lucky if I keep the paint off their baseboards and their things “mostly” match.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when I took up crochet.

Truly, it was an accident.

I’m a Star Wars nut, and, happily, so are both my sons. When Waldenbooks was going out of business, I stumbled across “The Star Wars Craft Book.” At 80% off, how could I resist?

Such cute crafts! A Jabba the Hutt body pillow! A tooka doll! Han Solo frozen in carbonite soap!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but the holy grail of Star Wars crafts: An R2-D2 beanie. To be more precise, a CROCHETED R2-D2 beanie.

Well, crap, I thought. I have to learn to crochet.

And so I did.

I bought some yarn and a hook and found some enthusiastic “Learn to crochet!” directions online. And I began. My first project turned out to be a handbag; I made it up as I went along, because I couldn’t read patterns. It turned out surprisingly well.

I bought more yarn, and more hooks. I figured out how to read a simple pattern, and made a scarf, a pillow, another scarf, and a hat. Then I declared myself ready to tackle R2.

I wasn’t.

Oh, how I struggled. I made it halfway through when I realized I’d missed whole rows of increases, and R2 was more of a cone than a dome. I ripped it back. I was a third of the way through when I realized I’d miscounted stitches from the start and absolutely everything was misaligned. I ripped it back again. A week later, and after three tries and hundreds (thousands?) of suppressed curses, we had our very own R2-D2 hat.

My 7-year-old beamed with pride while my 4-year-old wailed with envy. (Don’t worry, he got a C3PO hat a week later.) He wore his wooly R2-D2 hat to school on an 80 degree March day, which warmed my heart almost as much as it warmed his sweaty little head.  R2 accompanied him to school, to church, to Grandma’s.

And two weeks later, R2 was gone.

We turned the house and cars upside down while I railed and my son squirmed under the weight of my anger and disappointment. A week of my life! Seven anguished days! And the R2-D2 hat is gone, GONE! Oh, MY PRECIOUS!!!!!

Yes, it was all very dramatic.

The school lost and found, like Obi-Wan Kenobi, was my only hope – but, alas, the Force was not with us.

Well, I told myself, you can make another. Sometime. When you’ve recovered. After all, he’s only seven. He’s going to lose things.

And then I heaved a great sigh.

So imagine my surprise when, tonight, my husband returned home with R2 in hand.

As it turns out, he was at Grandma’s the whole time.

And I’m feeling very, very sheepish about all my railing, anger, and disappointment. If he were a little older or a little more sarcastic, I think my son would ask me if I learned a lesson from all this.

And I’d have to reply, “Yes. Yes, I'm very sorry, and yes, I have.”

The luck of the Irish

We nearly had a St. Patrick's Day tragedy this year.

I'm part Irish, I love holidays, and my kids are all about magical creatures: the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and, yes, leprechauns.

Each year, we develop some crafty leprechaun traps to try to catch O'Reilly, our personal leprechaun who springs all our traps and taunts us with notes playfully disparaging our invariably unsuccessful efforts. We place gaudily decorated treasure chests where a little moonlight will fall, because leprechauns are bound to fill them with treasure!  They're also allowed to hide them, but if you find them before the end of the day, you get to keep the loot.

Either O'Reilly is really lousy at hiding treasure chests, or our kids are just really good at finding them. I suspect it's a bit of both.

But this year, on St. Patrick's eve, I was exhuasted.

Just. So. Tired.

I stretched out on the bed around 8:30, just to rest for a moment, and woke up late the next morning. On St. Patrick's Day. Oh, crap.

But my husband, who deserves his very own super-hero badge and cape, had stepped in while I slumbered; he carefully arranged the treasure chests where they'd be lit by moonlight and set the traps with the boys.  As usual, we didn't catch O'Reilly, but he did leave the boys some chocolatey loot.

And I felt very lucky, indeed.

I fared much better with our other Irish tradition: colcannon.

Our first year as a veggie household, I hunted high and low to find something good and Irish to cook in celebration of St. Pat’s. I mean, if you take the corned beef out of corned beef and cabbage, all you have is cabbage. And, as much as I like tofu, tofu and cabbage just didn’t seem like a good idea.

Hooray for the internet, because that’s how I discovered colcannon. Essentially, it’s the happy marriage of mashed potatoes and cooked cabbage, with lots of milk and cream and butter. Our veggie version doesn’t have the dairy products, but it’s still creamy and delicious.

My seven-year-old is so wild about this dish that it’s his first choice for every special meal he gets to choose. When it’s his birthday, we’re eating colcannon. When we’re celebrating his new Taekwondo belt, we’re eating colcannon. And, of course, when it’s St. Patty’s: yes, we’re eating colcannon!

So I'm going to share our favorite colcannon recipe with all of you. Colcannon isn’t exactly health food, but it’s definitely comfort food, and sometimes that, along with a little luck and a really awesome husband, is just the thing you need.

————

Colcannon

3 lbs. Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed and cut into large chunks
6 T Earth Balance buttery spread, divided, plus more for serving
1-1/4 c. hot soy milk
1 head green cabbage, cored and chopped
4 scallions, finely chopped
Chopped fresh parsley, for garnish

Bring a large pot of water with a steamer insert to a boil over high heat. Steam potatoes for 30 minutes or until tender. Remove the insert and pour the cooked potatoes into a large bowl, and mash with 4 T. Earth Balance buttery spread, cut into pieces. Gradually add soy milk, stirring constantly. Season to taste with salt (and pepper, if using).

Boil the cabbage in the pot of water used to steam the potatoes, until the cabbage turns a slightly darker color. Add 2 T Earth Balance to pot. Cover and cook for 2 more minutes. Drain thoroughly.
Add the cabbage and scallions to the mashed potatoes, stirring them in gently.

Serve colcannon in shallow bowls. Make an indentation in the top of each and fill with a pat of Earth Balance. Sprinkle with parsley and serve.

Serves 6.

The stay-at-home-mom's answer to, "What did you do today?"

It's the question I dread, daily.  My husband comes home, and in a well-meaning attempt to express healthy spousal interest in my goings-on, speaks the loathed query: "So, what did you do today?"

My brain freezes. I run through the day's events, hoping to find something -- anything! -- of consequence, an accomplishment I can claim as the day's achievement.

Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

So then my internal switch flips to defensive indignation. As in, "Um, do you think I'm sitting around eating chips and watching TV all day?"

After four and a half years of answering, you'd think I would have figured out a good answer. (I haven't.)  And, you'd think it would have ceased to offend me. (It hasn't.)

Why? I know my husband does not, in fact, think that I sit on the couch from morning to evening. I know that he understands that being with small children all-day, every day, is no picnic. (I know this from my "days off" when I come home to find him wild-eyed and yelling, and we exchange a knowing and sympathetic look that says, simply, "Yep.")

But I know that there are, in fact, some people out there who believe that being "just" a wife and mom is what a woman does when she has no other marketable skills.

That's why I still sometimes feel the need, when faced with a condescendingly arched brow at the mention of my current profession, to explain to the offender that before I "stayed home," I successfully ran a multi-million dollar division of a Fortune 500 company. Yeah, buddy, I've got MAD skills. How about you?

That baggage is my own, not my husband's. But it may explain my hostility toward what is, in essence, an innocuous question, a simple expression of interest.

He asks, "What did you do?" I hear, "What did you get done?"

I'm a stay-at-home-mom. I have no urgent team meetings, no big sales, no business trips, and no epic show-downs with the jerk one cubicle over. My victories are nothing I would want to claim as such: managing to shower alone; finding Darth Vader's lost helmet; convincing our son to wipe his own bottom without either of us spiraling into screaming lunacy.

Being home all day with little kids is frustrating and loud and demanding and isolating and largely thankless. But it's also what I've chosen, because in between the noise and frustration are the perfect moments of love, learning, trust and growth that I'd miss if I were anywhere else.

The truth is, the things I do all day, every day, are of no consequence to anyone but our sons. And most days, I question even that.

So, what, exactly, is the right answer when one is asked what she's done with this one, full, precious day of her life?

I've answered with stubborn non-answers: Nothing much. I'm not really sure. The usual.

I've answered with the passive-agressive laundry-list: I made breakfast, worked out, vacuumed, cleaned the bathrooms, picked up the Lego room, took our preschooler to lunch at an indoor play area, caught up on e-mail, worked on a scarf for my mom, did homework with our first-grader, and made dinner. What did YOU do today?

But what I'd like most to say is this: "I did everything necessary, which resulted in absolutely nothing tangible. I role-played a dozen cartoon characters I don't even like in absurd scenarios that made me want to drive a spike into my skull. I dried big, wet tears shed for lost clone troopers, hung computers, and shirts that feel itchy.

"I cooked, and cleaned, and cooked, and cleaned, and cooked, and cleaned again, which you would never know because it still looks like a herd of unsupervised Wookiees was loose in our house all day. I gave and received countless hugs and kisses, and held our youngest son's small, warm, perfect hand.

"I wished for quiet, wished for a friend, wished for a pedicure, wished for world peace, and wished I didn't have to pick up the same toys 15 times a day. I listened to long and largely unintelligible stories and responded at appropriate intervals. I stepped on a Lego and managed not to swear. I walked hand-in-hand with our oldest son from the bus stop to our house and learned very little about his day, but realized, again, that he is a terrific kid.

"I searched for lost socks, for answers, for Transformers, for my sense of humor and batteries and meaning. I started the washing machine, started to decorate for the next holiday, to clean the fish tank, to cry. I finished nothing. I found nothing. And none of my wishes materialized.

"So, what did I do today? I did a lot, and accomplished very little. Except that our two sons know they are loved. Yes, I did that for sure."

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Update, April 14, 2012: A (much shorter) version of this was published today in the Columbus Disptach.

At last -- truly grillable veggie burgers!

Since giving up meat, there’s been some grilling angst in our house. Yes, hubby and I love to grill portabella mushrooms, corn on the cob, veggie kebabs, big zucchini and eggplant planks, potato packets, and even pizza. But, oh, how we’ve longed for a good burger.

The stuff you get at the supermarket works in a pinch — on the stove or microwave. But if you try throwing it on the grill, you’re just as likely to get a crumbled mess or a burned hockey puck as you are something that’s edible. And, honestly, the flavor just isn’t that good. But when is straight-from-the-freezer ever as good as straight-from-your-own-kitchen?

So, we’ve tried the pre-mades; we’ve tried recipes from cookbooks and websites; we’ve made concoctions with tofu and beans and grains and mushrooms, with breadcrumbs and without, pre-cooked and not. And, truly, there are a lot of good veggie burger recipes — but nearly all of them have to be baked or cooked in a skillet before they go anywhere near the grill. And, call me weird, but I just can’t get down with baking a burger in a hot oven in the middle of July! Seriously! Who needs that?!

So, here’s the result of all that experimentation: a veggie burger that’s moist and flavorful and grillable — and, yes, BOTH the boys ate them — another first! This recipe makes a big batch of 10 good-size burgers. I’d recommend grilling them all up; you can refrigerate the ones you don’t eat that night, and just heat them up in the microwave over the next couple days. If you don’t think you’ll eat them that fast, go ahead and pop them in the freezer.

We really like them on whole wheat buns with a little mayo (Vegenaise, of course!); they’re also great served on a bed of mixed greens.

It’s important to refrigerate the patties before grilling them; they need time to firm up, so DO NOT skip this step or you’ll be sad! Also, be sure to oil up the grill really well before you start cooking; you’ll get nice grill marks on your burgers instead of having the patties stick, pull away, and burn. Just follow those simple rules (and this simple recipe) and soon you’ll be in veggie burger nirvana!

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Farro and black bean burgers

1 large sweet onion, chopped, divided
1 T olive oil
1 c. farro
2-1/2 c. vegetable broth
1 can black beans, drained & rinsed
3 T soy sauce
2 c. raw cashews
4 cloves garlic, chopped
3/4 c. chopped cilantro, packed
2 tsp. ground cumin
2/3 c. panko breadcrumbs

Heat oil in a saucepan over med-high heat. Cook onions until golden, about 5 mins., stirring occasionally. Add farro and veggie broth; cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook until liquid is absorbed, about 20-25 minutes.

Meanwhile, toss all other ingredients except panko breadcrumbs into the bowl of your food processor and pulse until it’s coarsely chopped. Add the farro mixture and pulse until combined. Finally, add the panko crumbs; process until everything is combined and finely chopped.

Form the mixture into ten (10) patties. Mixture will be very wet and sticky; starting with clean, wet hands will help. Chill the patties for at least 45 minutes and up to 4 hours. Cook on a well-oiled grill, about 4 mins. per side. Serve immediately.

Makes 10 burgers.

Dad's Day biscuits and gravy

Father’s Day is one of those days that, in my opinion, demands a hearty, extravagant breakfast. I mean, if you go to any diner in the country, who’s eating the Paul Bunyan Extra-Greasy Five Pound Breakfast Special? Generally not us ladies. It’s as if a love of bacon, sausage and eggs is imparted via the “y” chromosome, along with extra testosterone, a burning hatred of ballet, and the need to wrestle anything that moves (but especially siblings).

So, in honor of my excellent husband, I set about finding a lumberjack-worthy breakfast that wouldn’t give him a heart attack at the same time. Biscuits with sausage gravy was a favorite indulgence back in the day. It isn’t terribly time-consuming, the timing is forgiving, and biscuits are easy enough for even the smallest kids to help make.  Yup, this dish itself well to a laid-back, somewhat lackadaisical Father’s Day morning.

Don’t be afraid of the bean base for this gravy! I know, I know, it sounds weird, but believe me, it’s as good and creamy as, well, cream. I wish I’d thought of using white beans for gravy first, but I have to give props to Isa Chandra Moskowitz (again); she’s a food genius and a constant source of inspiration. The addition of veggie sausage just makes it that much yummier, and it really is reminiscent of an oh-so-bad-for-you-but-oh-so-yummy breakfast at your favorite greasy spoon. Just without all the grease.

Most surprisingly, this was a big hit with the kids. I didn’t think I’d be adding this recipe to the blog, because neither is big on gravy — even when we were meat-eaters, they resisted the siren song of the annual Thanksgiving giblet gravy — but they happily spooned up every last drop of this faux-sausage gravy.

“Dad” savored every bite, too, while feeling very loved and pampered — in a rough, manly way, of course. Happy Fathers Day!

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“Sausage” gravy

1 T canola oil
2 links Field Roast Italian Sausage, removed from casings and crumbled (Field Roast is our favorite; if you can’t find it in your area, use about 6-8 oz. of another vegan sausage substitute, such as LightLife Sausage Style)
1-1/2 c. not-chicken broth (plus extra for thinning, if necessary)
1/3 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 med. onion, chopped
4 med. cloves garlic, chopped
2 T fresh thyme, chopped
1 T fresh chives, chopped
1 15-oz. can Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed
3 T soy sauce
4-6 drops liquid smoke

Heat the canola oil in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Add sausage and stir until browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.

Whisk together the broth and flour until smooth. Set aside.

Add onion and garlic to the saucepan. Saute until softened, about 3-4 minutes. Add the thyme and chives. Cook another 2-3 minutes. Give the broth mixture another stir, then add it to the saucepan, along with the beans, soy sauce and liquid smoke.

Remove the pan from heat, and use an immersion blender to blend the mixture until it’s smooth. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed.

Return the pan to the stove and heat over med-low. Add “sausage.” Stir occasionally; the gravy will thicken further. If desired, add more not-chicken broth to thin to your desired consistency.

Serve hot over your favorite biscuits. Top with some fresh ground pepper for the grown-ups!

Serves 4.

Lettuce give thanks

Sometime around March of every year — when we’re still getting snow and ice but tender little bits of green are starting to poke up from the half-frozen earth — I start having dire, desperate cravings for fresh salad greens. And the pale, tasteless stuff offered by our local supermarkets just doesn’t cut it.

We’ve long been members of a local CSA (the wonderful Sippel Family Farm — we love you guys!!!), so we are completely spoiled by their same-day, fresh-from-the-earth greens. Before the long, cold winter is over, I’m literally climbing the walls with yearning for some of the good stuff. I make giant serving bowls of salad and eat the whole thing myself for lunch, toss greens with grits for breakfast, and sometimes just snack on handfuls of yummy little baby arugula leaves. Ahhhh, bliss.

Of course, once the season starts, we are inundated with lettuce, spinach, baby greens, kale, chard, escarole, and every other type of green imaginable. After about a month of mountains of leafy green bounty, I get to a point where I just don’t want another salad.

I’m terribly fickle that way.

And that’s when I know it’s time to bust out some lettuce wraps.

Yes, they’re messy, but they’re tasty, really easy and fast to make, and the kids love them. And if you have trouble getting your kids to eat leafy greens, this is a good way to get some into their diets; just consider whole lettuce leaves as crisp green tortillas.

The seasonings in this recipe are very mild. If your family has a more adventurous palate, toss in some minced fresh ginger (about a tablespoon) and/or some red pepper flakes at the same time as the stir-fry sauce. It’ll kick it up nicely.

Do all your chopping before you start cooking, because the cooking goes very quickly and if you’re still at the chopping board, everything is likely to get overcooked and soggy. I usually buy a bag of matchstick carrots just to save chopping time, but if you’re a master with a knife (or just really enjoy prep work), go for it!

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Asian-style lettuce wraps

3 T soy sauce
1 T seasoned rice vinegar
2 T brown sugar
1 T peanut oil
1 8-oz. package tempeh, crumbled
1 5-oz. can water chestnuts, diced
2 c. mushrooms, diced
1/2 med. onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 c. matchstick carrots
1 c. fresh mung bean sprouts
2 scallions, sliced
8-10 whole lettuce leaves (butter lettuce works really well, but any kind of leaf lettuce will do)
Hoisin sauce for serving

Make stir-fry sauce by stirring together the soy sauce, brown sugar and rice vinegar. Set aside.

Heat peanut oil in a large wok or skillet over medium-high heat. Add tempeh, water chestnuts, onions, garlic and mushrooms to wok; stir fry 3-4 minutes, until onions are softened and mushrooms have released their liquid.

Add the stir fry sauce to the wok and toss to coat. Add carrots and mung bean sprouts; cook 1-2 minutes, until veggies are tender-crisp and most liquid has evaporated. Stir in scallions and remove from heat. Pour mixture into a serving bowl.

To serve, spoon a couple tablespoons of the mixture into a lettuce leaf (leave enough room so you can fold up the lettuce leaf like a tortilla); top with a little hoisin saucce before folding, if desired.

Serves 4.