Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The last of the lima beans

--but first, something pretty, the view from my front door today.

My Grandma Dee hated leftovers. If there were six people at supper, she would cook six potatoes, six steaks (okay, five if I was coming), and as near as she could calculate it six of everything else. But sometimes, for instance on one memorable occasion when she made quiche and there were only three of us (this was in my vegetarian days), she had some left over. What to do? She was never in doubt. Without fail, no matter what they were, and I mean there were no exceptions, yesterday's leftovers became today's soup. I remember coming upon her one day just before lunch, stuffing triangles of quiche, crust and all, into her blender, along with milk and some additional spices. When I expressed surprise, and I will admit, some horror at this procedure, she countered, "You always ate my soup before." And it was true. I ate it that day too, and had to admit it was really not bad at all.

What I'm leading up to is that I've inherited this trait. Lots of cooking advice for people who live alone is along the lines of "make enough for ten and freeze nine servings/rejoice that your next ten meals are all taken care of." I'm not like that. Having to eat the same thing at consecutive meals is negative fun for me. I want to cook. I like to cook. Cooking is an important part of my day. So I try to cook in categories of staples—quinoa, but I only use what I need for one serving of salad and put the rest away to make other things out of; beans, but I freeze whatever I don't need today; salad dressing, but I only dress today's salad and tomorrow maybe I'll have it on steamed vegetables or tofu; you get the idea.

But no matter how careful you are, sometimes you can't avoid those pesky leftovers. Some of them you can take for lunch. At work one is more into refuelling than anything else, and less picky than at home in the evenings, but, unfortunately, cold lima beans aren't going to do it for me at any time of day.

So I did what my grandma did before me, and blended them up with some soymilk, a lightly sautéed small onion and potato, some lemon pepper, and heated it with some freshly-chopped broccoli, green onions, chives, and parsley from the garden. Still not gorgeous, but I think I like this version best of all, and it's done now…



In other news, it rained for most of yesterday and today, which is very welcome in drought-stricken central Alberta, but somewhat inconvenient for people and insects.


I wanted to get out to do some errands, but with my bike that would mean arriving with a long brown mud stain up the back of my jacket. So I mostly stayed in. A moth took refuge in the space between my two patio doors and stayed there for hours and hours (it is still there):


And this little bee had obviously taken a bath somewhere—a more disgruntled and uncomfortable bee I don't think I've ever seen. Poor bee! Doesn't she look cross?


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