this is such a lovely site, both the photography, and the langauge…enjoy
I was really surprised to hear how many women are intimidated by cooking,
as that is the fastest way to win the heart of many men.
If you hope to snag any of these for the holiday season ~ Taurus, Capricorn, Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini,Pisces, or Leo ~ please consider cooking for him!
All of these signs love to be nurtured, pampered, and fed delicious dishes.
Don’t be frightened by the prospect of tackling the turkey, start with a chicken; and I will show you how!
Ingredients to prepare beforehand –
one large onion, cut in half
one half lemon if a chicken, or use both halves if it is a larger bird.
3 cloves of garlic, skin peeled, and gently mashed with the flat of a knife blade as this doesn’t damage the garlic as much, and we want the antiseptic power of the garlic when fixing poultry or fowl
any fresh herbs that you enjoy, either purchased in the veggie department or from your own kitchen garden ~ I used two sprigs each of rosemary, sage, and basil, as well as about 8 little stems of thyme
two stalk ends of the celery heart for best taste
one long carrot, broken in half
1-2 tablespoons of sea salt, to your taste and size of bird, and dry spices of your choice (I sprinkled 2 shakes each of red pepper flakes, rubbed sage, basil, and about four shakes of Jamacian jerk rub)
2 pats to one stick of butter cut, depending on the size of the bird
Start with a thawed, whole chicken or other bird. This is a great time to pre-heat your oven to 350 degrees F.
Gently wash thoroughly in the sink, with cool water, being sure to rinse any internal areas. With a turkey, there will be a neck cavity, as well. I like to put the bird in a large stainless bowl and let the cool water run over it, and sprinkle about a TBL. of sea salt over it, as well. I will turn the bird around and around, blessing the meal with short prayers of intent for my man and family. The sea salt will begin to absorb any toxins or ‘germs’.
I dump all of this into the sink, and then place the bird back in the bowl in the sink. I rinse one more time, and then dump the water out. Now I use the lemon, squeezing it inside and out. This will disinfect, as well as add a lovely taste.
Personally, I love a dutch oven, as it seals in flavor, and doesn’t leave the residue of estrogens from plastic bags for baking. Place your bird in your cooking dish. I quickly take all of my fresh herbs and veggies, and stuff them inside the bird. I place the butter inside, as well. Then, I turn the bird upside down, as the breast will become submerged in its lovely juices, making for delicious, moist white meat. I will add about two cups of water to the dish for a small chicken like this, up to about four cups for a 16 – 18 pound bird. I will also add about four TBL of whatever white wine is handy, like a zinfandel or chardonnay, and about one TBL of sea salt sprinkled over the whole bird or into the water, as there isn’t any other salt added, except what is in the butter.
If you need to use a baking bag, consider dusting your bird with a little flour so the bag won’t stick to the skin and tear it or the bag later.
I will have my son come over and sprinkle about six drops of lavender oil in the sink that I just used. I get him to turn on the warm water, and I wash my hands, wrists and lower arms with warm water and soap, ending with sprinking a few drops of lavender in my hands to rinse around with while I use a sponge to clean up the sink and area where I was cleaning chicken. The sponge can be popped in the dish washer later so that it gets to a hot enough temperature to kill any ‘germs’, and the lavender not only smells great, but is a disinfectant, as well.
I pop the bird in the oven, setting the timer for forty minutes. When that goes off, I pull out the bird and lay it on the stove or other safe counter surface, and open the dutch oven. I have a small ladle that I use to catch drippings and drizzle two or three scoops over the bird, then scoot right back in the oven for another thirty minutes. At the end of this time, a chicken should be done. The breast meat will be firm, with clear, thin fluid. There should never be anything pink showing when cut on the white meat, and the dark will be firm, as well. For a turkey, you will need to set the timer for forty minute increments so that you can continue to baste with drippings. I cannot give enough emphasis to that last step. Combined with turning the bird upside down if it is over 8 pounds, this technique is a proven winner!
You can expect a turkey around 16 pounds to take every bit of 3 hours, so be sure to check every 40 minutes, to baste, and to cut into the meat at each check point. At two and a half hours, I also get someone to help me turn the bigger bird over so the breast has a chance to brown at the end. It may look a little funny and mashed, but, again, the moist white meat will have your man ready to swoon! …and, you want him fat and sassy so he will be ready to rub your feet and do the dishes after all of that hard work!
My studies into how to help the human body holistically have been an honest endeavor;
a quest to be well using natural ingredients, making wise food choices, and using non-invasive procedures.
For two decades I have worked to to be well in mind, body and spirit; learning all I could about Nature’s cures.
I came across this wonderful medicinal by accident, and it has been a constant companion to my pantry ever since.
After the birth of my first son, I was very ill, and wasn’t sure why.
I called the mid-wife a couple of times, but she dismissed my worries, saying that things change after you have babies, and to just expect it.
Thank goodness, I had studied nutritional herbology at that point, and was familiar with tinctures, the power of herbs as healers, and a few CAM (Complementary Alternative Medicine) modalities. I knew, on a energetic level, that a woman should not have any odor or internal pain a little while after childbirth, when the body begins to settle down and heal.
I would like to share with you that if you are having vaginitis, or any strong, musky odor that may or may not be accompanied with mild itching, it needs to be addressed. Empower yourself with knowledge when it comes to your health and body. Don’t ever feel afraid to ask for help because the issue is of a personal nature. You deserve to be healthy and whole.
Because I had worked with an herbalist on my previous endometriosis, I called her for help. She recommended this product, which I wanted to share with you. It is crucial because of the overall healing potential of this herb. It is perhaps the single strongest herbal remedy for yeast, fungal and bacterial infections in general. Yes, it is very potent, strong-smelling, and pungent; but when you or someone you love is sick, you will be glad to have the information. I would also suggest that you work with a naturopath or herbalist when first learning how to administer or ingest this supplement.
Let me introduce you to oil of wild oregano.
As always, I suggest Young’s Living Oils because I know these are food grade, which means they are pure, and created with therapeutic intention that can be taken internally. Most cheaper oils are made from lesser plants, or are not tested or manufactured with this type of quality. When it comes to the use of oils, it is crucial to make sure you are getting therapeutic or food grade labelling.
Please don’t take my word for it. I am hoping that my sharing this type of information with you will pique your interest in doing your own research and seeing what works best for you. I have found this wonderful set of videos that you may wish to explore to learn more about natural and holistic alternatives as you empower yourself.
Dr. James Meschino DC, MS, ND, ROHP, RAP, is the Director of Nutritional Therapy at the Cancer Immunotherapy Centers in Toronto, where he works with a team of medical physicians and an oncology nurse, who provide patients with conventional and leading-edge integrative cancer therapies, including dietary modification and use of nutritional supplements that influence key biological targets in the adjunctive management of cancer. (Cancer Immunotherapy Centers)
See his wonderful video about oil of oregano, here, http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=how+to+use+wild+oregano+oil+to+treat+yeast&FORM=VIRE3#view=detail&mid=3658277D80C47E9B9E6A3658277D80C47E9B9E6A
I have used this for dental abcesses while waiting to be seen by a dentist, for external skin abrasions, to treat cuts and wounds on my pets, and whenever there is a need for an anti-viral, anti-fungal. It will help with foot fungus, and works on cold sores.
This is a wonderful addition to the medicine cabinet, but please be sure to research it first, and see how it could help you.
Here are some wonderful suggestions from the WebMD site,
A lot of times, a man won’t tell you that he is turned off my something this personal, but he just won’t want to be intimate with you.
Not only will you be left wondering what was wrong, you could develop a serious problem down the road.
Take care of you, so he will want to, too!
do you fear the time
when the white dogs come?
I have seen them, once,
a pair, in radiant array,
but it was not my time.
Everyone must make this passage,
no one is immune;
this transmutation from carbon back to God particle.
It is from this, we came; straining, stretching, bawling
from the water to the shore.
a lighthouse beacon
cutting through the sea of darkness,
a shimmer in the mind’s eye –
They lead, a procession of love,
into the light.
It is not an end,
to leave this tattered plane
but, a beginning.
Really great idea!
Now, I’ve done it…opened Pandora’s box.
Sigh. I suppose I shall be forced to write.
From a small town in North Kackalacky where tobacco was the state tree (sort of),
I was always made fun of for my myriad use of hyperbole, metaphor and iambic pentameter.
Learned to read when I was 3, teachers hated me.
I remember first grade; a horrible year.
By that time, I was reading Reader’s Digest novels, and spelling better than the teachers.
They drug a little desk to the center of the school, a meeting area of sorts, completely barren.
This was where I spent almost all of my school day; seated there, in a little wooden chair,
slouched behind a menagerie of colorful, sundry and irregular books.
I loved to turn the pages on a brand new Webster’s, the thin pages translucent,
a bouquet of ink, wood fiber, and…life – these words were
friends to me, intimate rapport of rhythm, movement, flow.
I will never forget a talk at Warren Wilson by the most brillant Brooks Haxton.
I was so blessed to be allowed to work with him while there; his Southern twang
spewing forth precision; a neurologist of the English language.
I would like to share a favorite with you…enjoy.
EVERY DEATH IS MAGIC FROM THE ENEMY TO BE AVENGED (from the Volume, Uproar)
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
When fever burned the last light out of my daughter’s eyes,
I swore to find and kill the ones to blame. Men
must mount the long boat in the dark with spears.
At dawn, where the flowering spicebush hid my scent,
I crouched. A young wife, newborn slung across her chest,
came first for springwater. She stooped. My god,
for vengeance, spoke her secret name inside my ear. Her god
stepped back with no scream, his right hand at his mouth,
the knuckles clenched between the pointed teeth.
There is a place,
visited by some, but experienced by few.
It takes a little work to find, a rough path,
I have stumbled many times to get there.
Soft, cool feather touches,
the breeze of ethers dancing off water.
Closely following; a sound, rapids,
heart beat of Earth Mother.
Tendrils, spider webs of electrical current,
the dancing of sprites on stones, ancient, cracked,
laughter; echoing a time before
I found myself.
From Tipsy Lit. Write about a character with psychic abilities and the trouble they get into because of their abilities.
Don’t worry if you haven’t had a chance to read any of Doctor Sleep yet, though. This week’s challenge picks up, like Doctor Sleep, with the characters that were left behind from The Shining. So far, I haven’t met anyone not familiar with Redrum and Here’s Johnny!, but it could happen. For this week’s prompt, let’s play with the concept of Shining. Write about a character with psychic abilities and the trouble they get into because of their abilities.
My world is an explosion of colors, electrical currents, and magical beings. Hair in a loose grandma bun, little fingers of wisps dangling about my ears, pointing accusations to those who would doubt my integrity,
I entered the physical therapy office. Nervous, but excited, hands stuffed in the side openings of my favorite faded, blue overalls.
It was a quiet Saturday morning, the room only half lit by the flourescents overhead.
Soft tinkling electronic music drifted from a shiny boombox by the door, on the registration table, next to an open cedar jewelry box cradling a variety of pendulums. Flourite, hematite, pink quartz, citrine – long, thin crystals delicately housed in the swirls and knots of wrapped copper wire caught on sterling silver chains. I let my finger trail over some of them as I walked by, listening to their high, melodious voices; “…pick me, I’m here, I can help you understand….” Yes, I know. I would love to take you all home.
There were already several distinguished looking men and women sitting rather stiffly
with crossed ankles in a circle of metal chairs, some leafing half-heartedly through the class textbook. Couldn’t they see the dazzling array of colors around the instructor’s bent body as she was reaching under her chair to pick up some materials, the dancing shadows of the fairies behind her on the white wall? There were drums, too, and the screehing of jungle birds, but only my friend Karen and I seemed to know these things.I smiled at the nurse who was volunteering to help with sign up, and handed her the sheet that had been mailed to me last week, now filled out in my spidery handwriting. I paid in cash, as usual, and grabbed the closest seat, in between another woman about my age, and an older, distinguised looking man, very distant. This was not going to be easy.
I saw the dog, a large german shepherd, by his feet, to the left; grizzled and sad, his huge head resting on old paws. He looked at me once, dark eyes pools swimming among the wrinkles of his forehead, patches of grey hairs intermingled with the other, dark black brown furriness.
I smiled into the thick glassed eyes of the neurologist, his sandy brown hair rested in waves, covering bushy eyebrows.
“Pleased to meet you, Dr….uh…”
“Dr. Stevens. And you are…?” he extended a long fingered hand that seemed to shake a little as it fluttered in the general direction of mine. “…and, how did you know I was a doctor?” His smile was lopsided, with thin lips. Secretive and doubtful, a little unfriendly; but I couldn’t help myself.
“Oh, I saw it in your aura, all of the little instruments around you head….nice dog, by the way. He must care for you deeply.” I nodded toward his feet while gently shaking his hand. “My name’s Rochelle.” He quickly withdrew his hand, looking down at his feet, his head bobbing to and fro, making little jerking motions.
“Oh, I just meant your animal guide, the german shepherd who must have passed a while back. He keeps close to you, by your feet, as if he is guiding your every move. It’s clear he feels very protective of you.” I smiled a little, and wanted to laugh when he jerked back to sit ramrod straight in his chair.
This is not going to end well, I thought to myself, looking across the room and winking at Karen, who had seen the whole encounter and was shaking her head back and forth. Don’t worry, I messaged her inside my head, Ill do my best not to say anything too dramatic.
Karen is my psychic side kick, the more practical one. She gives me great advice on the things I experience through the ethers, and I push her into new levels of growth. She knows how excited I get when I get around people doing energy work or who are at all open to the etheric layers. This was going to be an interesting class, I could already tell…
Ellen Bryant Voight is a famous Black Mountain poet, and paints quite spectacular landscapes with words. I was very blessed to be one of the youngest poets she accepted at her MFA Program in Black Mountain, NC. I wanted to share an excerpt of one of her works, that replays some of my own childhood memories.
Visting the Graves
All day we travel from bed to bed, our children
clutching homemade bouquets
of tulips and jonquils, hyacinth,
handfuls of yellow salad from the fields.
In Pittsylvania County our dead face east,
my great-grandfather and his sons facing
what is now a stranger’s farm.
One great uncle chose a separate hill,
an absence in the only photograph.
Under the big oak, we fumble for his name
and the names of sisters scattered like coins.
But here is my father, near the stone
we watched him weep beside for twenty years.
And my mother beside him, the greenest slab of grass…
(see more here, to order, http://www.amazon.com/dp/0393062503?tag=poetsorg-20&camp=14573&creative=327641&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=0393062503&adid=0H5J92VY13WXEWQVVR59&&ref-refURL=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.poets.org%2Fpoet.php%2FprmPID%2F880#reader_B001MZ0FI4)
There is a simplistic beauty when cooking from the fall garden.
Local new potatoes, fresh rosemary, 3 pats of heavenly amish butter, sea salt, onions and garlic and chicken stock; all swirl together to make a heavenly brew.
And, the aroma – clear, clean, a brisk twang as one walks by.
It is tempting to lift the pot, allow the pungent steam to caress the face of passersby, as we lust for the chance to drip golden goodness down the chin,
Slurp the last drop of even the deepest crystal bowl,
Scraping the bottom, yearning for more…