I'm a member of an online forum for doulas. Recently, a woman posted about a scenario she and her family are dealing with and wanted advice.
Here's the deal: she and her husband have been trying to get pregnant for two years now. They've tried everything short of IVF, which they are against for personal and moral reasons. In the past year, she has become pregnant twice, only to miscarry at 5 weeks and again at 11 weeks. All of her siblings (I think she has three sisters) have kids, and they always have the whole extended family gathered on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
A few weeks ago, during the family's Thanksgiving party, a number of older relatives asked her, "Now when are you two going to have a baby?" It became so persistent that she had to excuse herself for the bulk of the afternoon. None of the family knew she had been trying and having miscarriages. It was so heart-breaking for her and her husband that they are considering not even joining the family this Christmas.
Now I can see a number of people thinking she's being overly-sensitive, or that we can't fault her family for upsetting her, as they didn't know about her difficulty getting and staying pregnant. However, being the kind of person who believes that there's no right or wrong way to feel about infertility/pregnancy/pregnancy loss, I think this woman has every right to be emotionally drained from the constant reminder that she's the odd one out in the child department, and not by choice. Additionally, I can't fully excuse the family simply because they didn't know she was having trouble.
See, I'm a firm believer that the decision to have a baby is no one else's damn business. Even if this particular woman hadn't been experiencing fertility problems, I would still find fault in the constant prying into her personal life. They had no idea that their questioning would take such an emotional toll, true, but I don't even think we should even be asking these kinds of questions out of the blue like that.
I experience this kind of thing in my own life, though I wouldn't have the same emotional response, as I am neither having fertility problems nor am I trying to get pregnant. It might well seem like a harmless question, "Are you planning on having a baby any time soon?" But I just don't see it that way, and I think the knee-jerk assumption that a couple will be procreating after a few years of marriage is in and of itself problematic.
There is nothing more personal than the decision to bring a new life into the world, and you'd think the act by which pregnancy occurs would be personal enough to keep distant relatives from asking about it. A mother or father wanting to know, in confidence, if you and your partner are planning on having a family of your own is one thing, but having an aunt or distant cousin who you only see once a year come up and ask whether or not you're having unprotected sex is a bit odd, don't you think?
And what are they expecting the answer to be? "Oh yes, Grandma, we're planning on trying at the start of the new year." That just seems weird to me. You might as well be saying, "During my next cycle, I will be monitoring my cervical mucus and, when the time is right, I will be having sex with your grandson/nephew/cousin with the intention of soaking up his seed." Not exactly the conversation you want to have over pecan pie.
If a couple wants to have a baby, it's really no one else's damn business until they choose to make it so. The fact of the matter is, many couples experience difficulty conceiving, and many others miscarry early on. Asking about if/when you'll be having a baby is liable to trigger difficult emotional responses, and let's face it, who really needs that during the holidays? And if a couple doesn't ever want a kid {gasp!}, that's also no one's business. You wouldn't ask parents why they chose to adopt, so why would you ask a woman why she's not pregnant?
I'm sure I'll hear much of it this year. Charlie and I are "next in line" for pregnancy in his family (all the other married siblings and cousins have new babies), and everyone in my family is itching for a grandchild/great-grandchild. I'm just thankful I'm not experiencing any sort of infertility or pregnancy issues that could make those questions loaded. But that doesn't change the fact that my sex life is no one else's business, nor is my decision to get pregnant or remain childless.
It just seems like there's other things we could be talking about... Charlie and I both have had very big years career-wise, but I somehow doubt that will be what people want to hear about.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Birthing Against the Grain
The following was originally posted at ChoiceUSA's Choice Words blog.
--------------------------------------------------
CNN featured a story today about Aneka, a woman who recently gave birth to her fourth child, vaginally and at home, after previously enduring three cesarean births. Apparently her obstetrician had told her that her pelvis was "too small" to deliver vaginally, and, after her first cesarean, she continued birthing surgically because she was told that was what she had to do.
For her forth child, the obstetrician scheduled a cesarean, but Aneka never showed. Since seven months gestation, she had been researching vaginal birth after cesarean, or VBAC. And, due to her area's hospitals not supporting VBACs and her doctor's suggestion for yet another cesarean, Aneka chose to give birth at home under the care of a midwife. The birth resulted in a healthy 9 pound baby, born vaginally after only four minutes of pushing. (Small pelvis my ass.)
CNN offers dueling perspectives on the matter: some in the medical establishment believe Aneka's actions were "irresponsible" and dangerous, while birth advocates applaud her as a hero of the birth movement.
The home birth vs. hospital birth, VBAC vs. repeat cesarean debate is ongoing, with more and more evidence surfacing to suggest that a) home birth is as safe as hospital birth, assuming the woman does not experience major complications and is under the care of a midwife, and b) attempting a VBAC is safer than repeat cesarean, which is a major abdominal surgery that lengthens recovery time and often acts as an affront to breastfeeding.
But what concerns me about this story most is not the fact that this woman couldn't be better supported in her choices, or that she had to endure three cesareans before she found out that her body could give birth on its own, or even that it paints home birth as more dangerous than it is. What concerns me most is the public opinion surrounding Aneka's situation as evidenced by the article's comments. From the peanut gallery:
Never mind that this particular woman's birthing experience ended positively, or that most home birth experiences end that same way. No, Aneka was defiant and therefore is an idiot. She's irresponsible. She "could have" endangered her child's life by not listening to the doctor. In other words, women should do what they're told with their bodies, and besides, women need to stop thinking about what they want and just think about the baby (sound familiar?).
Even more troubling, many of the comments don't focus on stupidity; they focus, not surprisingly, on the number of children this Black woman has:
So, in conclusion:
--------------------------------------------------
CNN featured a story today about Aneka, a woman who recently gave birth to her fourth child, vaginally and at home, after previously enduring three cesarean births. Apparently her obstetrician had told her that her pelvis was "too small" to deliver vaginally, and, after her first cesarean, she continued birthing surgically because she was told that was what she had to do.
For her forth child, the obstetrician scheduled a cesarean, but Aneka never showed. Since seven months gestation, she had been researching vaginal birth after cesarean, or VBAC. And, due to her area's hospitals not supporting VBACs and her doctor's suggestion for yet another cesarean, Aneka chose to give birth at home under the care of a midwife. The birth resulted in a healthy 9 pound baby, born vaginally after only four minutes of pushing. (Small pelvis my ass.)
CNN offers dueling perspectives on the matter: some in the medical establishment believe Aneka's actions were "irresponsible" and dangerous, while birth advocates applaud her as a hero of the birth movement.
The home birth vs. hospital birth, VBAC vs. repeat cesarean debate is ongoing, with more and more evidence surfacing to suggest that a) home birth is as safe as hospital birth, assuming the woman does not experience major complications and is under the care of a midwife, and b) attempting a VBAC is safer than repeat cesarean, which is a major abdominal surgery that lengthens recovery time and often acts as an affront to breastfeeding.
But what concerns me about this story most is not the fact that this woman couldn't be better supported in her choices, or that she had to endure three cesareans before she found out that her body could give birth on its own, or even that it paints home birth as more dangerous than it is. What concerns me most is the public opinion surrounding Aneka's situation as evidenced by the article's comments. From the peanut gallery:
"Wow, talk about stupid. She got lucky, it really wouldn't have hurt her to go and have that c-section just to be safe. Well, I guess it's her decision. I'm just happy the baby didn't die because of her risk taking."
"I love the 'it's a woman's choice' line of thinking. What about the father (husband or not)? What about the baby?"
"This woman is a fool!"
"Who was she more concerned about, herself and her 'birth experience', or the risks to her baby?"
Never mind that this particular woman's birthing experience ended positively, or that most home birth experiences end that same way. No, Aneka was defiant and therefore is an idiot. She's irresponsible. She "could have" endangered her child's life by not listening to the doctor. In other words, women should do what they're told with their bodies, and besides, women need to stop thinking about what they want and just think about the baby (sound familiar?).
Even more troubling, many of the comments don't focus on stupidity; they focus, not surprisingly, on the number of children this Black woman has:
"I just hope she stops feeding her need to breed! Plus, she was really stupid."
"YOU HAVE 4 ALREADY! FIND THE OFF BUTTON! AND ALL YOU IDIOTS CRYING ABOUT MEXICANS AND THEIR KIDS, LOOK RIGHT HERE! THIS IS WHATS TRULY WRONG IN THIS COUNTRY TODAY, NOBODY NEEDS 5, 6 , 7 KIDS, THTS [sic] JUST NUTS...."
"Newsflash: She's an entitled black person."
So, in conclusion:
- A woman who makes an informed decision to switch to the care of a midwife after her scalpel-happy OB pushes cesarean surgery is "defiant."
- It's irresponsible to worry about having positive birthing experiences; all that matters is that the baby gets out alive.
- Women should never, ever have more children than the public thinks you should have, especially women of color.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
A Farewell to Arms, or something
I've gotten so tired of aggression. It wears you out over time.
Though there were clear problems raised by the well-attended "Rally To Restore Fear and/or Sanity," the way it was advertised, how it was penned, what it did(n't) do, etc, there is one principle that really sticks with me: "If we amplify everything, we hear nothing."
Maybe the problem is that no one wants to hear anything, or have just gotten so sick of hearing the same old that they need to add noise themselves. But noise is noise; we continue one-upping each other on the decibel level until we all go deaf. I know it was a metaphor for the Cold War, but Dr. Seuss' Butter Battle Book comes to mind. Really it's the rhetoric that delivers the final nail in the coffin. Maybe it delivered all the nails, but whatever. I can't deal with it; it's like drama, except instead of just pertaining to a few people, it involves everyone. That's exhausting.
What I've been reading in listservs and on political blogs lately has convinced me that this is my breaking point: not the problem, not the possible solutions, but the means. Political discourse today seems to turn from a disagreement to a Hitler accusation in record time. New ideas have absolutely no shelf-life; everything must be devoured whole without chewing then pooped out to be reformed into one's own mold. Buzzwords replace discourse. Headlines outshine the story. No one seems immune: mainstream politics, the Tea Party, the Left, we all do it, and we all blame the others for doing it first. As if that's an excuse to continue the cycle.
Needless to say, turning my efforts inward from the big idea to the every day action has been good for my soul. I've been so happy these last few months. Working with both birthing families and breastfeeding moms is nothing short of awesome, and it's all leading me on a path that can sustain me, personally and professionally.
Thing is, I can hear this nagging voice in the back of my head: "You selfish, sell-out hussy. Losing sight of the big picture, just like everyone else that's responsible for the world's social epidemics."
I don't think the voice is me... I think it's an idea I've heard many times but never quite came to accept. After all, it's not like I'm losing sight of anything. There is a clear evolution from where I was three years ago to where I am now. There is no abandonment; consider it ideals put into practice. Besides, as much as I'd love to be back at Jo-Ann's using up all my time-off requests to go to a march that weekend, I can't carry the world on my shoulders any more. Which isn't to say I can't carry my fair share. I plan on doing that, maybe even some extra, but you can't just keep lugging around a stillborn movement without feeling the drain. Which is why I haven't picked it up in over a year... I guess it's just now become clear why I put it down in the first place.
Still ever more complicated. I can hear it now: "There are plenty of people in Iraq/Afghanistan/Palestine/Haiti/etc who would just love to do yoga and eat well." Yup, probably true. But their problems are not about to be solved by me or any number of people simply making themselves miserable. That's probably what's taken so long to come to terms with. There is indeed a fine line one must tread to find the balance between the selfish and the selfless. Thing is, it takes a certain amount of selfishness to equip oneself with the ability to be selfless. That's what I've learned.
So I guess this is me saying I'm putting down my protest sign for a while. I'm sure the spirit will find me again someday, but right now I just need to do my thing my way. It's not cynicism, and I'm not being blinded by false hope. I've spent enough time feeling bad about being absent, but obviously not so bad to plunge myself back in. I'm not allowing myself or anyone else to make me feel guilty about my decisions, nor am I allowing anyone to make me think that what I'm dong now is any less valid or relevant than what I was doing before. I would say I'm sorry, except I feel I have absolutely nothing to apologize for. It is indeed a freeing feeling.
How bad is it?
This bad. All it is is a story about bad weather in the Middle East, and the comments are outrageous. The most recent, presently at 10:35pm, are as follows (and remember, this is just a story about bad weather):
This is the kind of thing that will be looked back on the way we remember the segregationists or the McCarthyists.
Let's hope.
[shutters.]
"allah mad"
"Heavy rains? It's o.k. I have seen many pictures of the Middle East- everyone wears a hat."
"Its Israels fault! They trained the storm to hit the other countries around them. Watch out for the Mossad ... I'm joking of course"
"Couldn't happen to a nicer group!"
"One thing is for sure. The sociopathic powers that be of the extremist countries in this region will find a way to blame this on the West and/or Israel, and the masses will believe them. Sometimes I think they rival cold war Russia when it comes to propoganda [sic]."
This is the kind of thing that will be looked back on the way we remember the segregationists or the McCarthyists.
Let's hope.
[shutters.]
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Bra Shopping
When it comes to women's bodies, in particular the breasts and butt, there's always some crisis that inherently keeps us from happiness: we're too large here, too squishy there, and somehow too small somewhere else. Add to this the supposed "crisis" that 80% of women are wearing the wrong bra size {gasp!}, and an activity as basic as buying a new bra becomes a crash course in why feminism exists.
Once upon a time, I had a friend whose girlfriend had landed a job at one those Oprah-endorsed specialty bra shops. He said to me something like, "You'd probably like this store. Turns out most women are wearing the wrong bra size, and they help you find the right one." Never one to hide my convictions, I remember launching directly into a rant about how the "wrong bra size" statistic is just another attempt at capitalizing on women's insecurities while turning the focus away from real women's issues such as poverty, abuse, pay inequities, etc. I mean really!
Though I can't say I blamed my friend for assuming this was, in fact, a legitimate women's issue. He wasn't exactly well-versed in feminist ideology, and from the outside, many of these specialty stores and brands model themselves to look like champions of women's advancement. Indeed, to take the plunge into any department store undies section is to be inundated with co-opted feminist language: "Empower yourself with the new styles," "Comfort without sacrificing beauty," "Right on, Sister!", etc. It's the garment equivalent of the old Virginia Slims ad, "You've come a long way, baby."
Yes, there's nothing quite like bra shopping to reaffirm your hatred for the the fashion industry. Like big pharma, the people who decide what we put on our bodies are wizards at creating problems they subsequently manufacture products to fix, products that are neither easily replicated nor cheap. They have underwear that encases your thighs and buttocks like sausages with tags that promise to "stop unsightly jiggling." They have tanks that squeeze in your tummy while simultaneously pushing your boobies up towards your chin. There's undies that pad your butt in the "right" area while squishing in the "extra" in another, then there's undies that don't hold much of anything at all but instead just help you floss your buttcrack.
A little further in, when you get to the actual bras, you have more choices to make: bras with wires, bras with molded cups, bras that won't show under t-shirts, bras with chutzpah, minimizer bras, maximizer bras, bras with weird little pockets of fluid in them, bras made of lace, bras that cover everything, bras that don't cover anything, strapless bras that glue themselves to your skin, bras that make your boobs look like torpedoes, bras with something called "nipple protection," the list goes on and on. And all I wanted was a new bra. Something comfortable that I can wear under anything. That, and something with my two uncompromising rules for a new bra: nothing with hardware, and no chutzpah.
All these options and barely anything fits my two little requirements. See, I have an ideological problem with underwires. It's not so much that they're uncomfortable, as apparently that's another one of the tell-tale signs that you're not wearing the right size (sure, let's blame the women for picking out the wrong size and not the company that uses child-labor to make a defective product). It's not even so much that you can't put them in the dryer. The problem I have with underwires is what they tell us about our breasts. They're metal for crying out loud! It's almost like they're saying, "Your boobies are so out of control it takes hardware to hold them upright and keep them still." Which is completely false, as I've had many bras that do their job without anything but stretchy fabric and a good design. But they're not easy to find, as I'm a D cup. You can usually find a nice, underwire-free style in the AA, the A, the B, sometimes even the C, but once you get to that D cup, BAM! Your tig ol' bitties need some metal.
Then there's the chutzpah, by which I mean the padding that sits at the bottom of the cup. Once my no-hardware rule has significantly narrowed down my options, the chutzpah seals my fate. See, for some reason, the only way bra designers think you can go without hardware is by adding the under-padding. It's like one replaces the other. Sure, you can go without that uncomfortable metal, but you're gonna need that extra LIFT so we can all see your pretty, perky, lifted boobies. Um, no. My boobies don't need chutzpah, especially not with these D cups. That shit's a health hazard... any extra and I'm liable to put someone's eye out. There's nothing wrong with women wanting that extra lift, but when did chutzpah become the norm in bra design?
So went my shopping venture today: walking around the "intimates" section (I hate that word), squeezing the bottoms of each bra, feeling for hidden hardware or chutzpah, and not being surprised when it was present. I did finally find what I wanted, but not without some digging.
When people characterize feminists as "bra burners," the only reason I scoff is because I know the origin of that stereotype and its negative connotations. I don't take offense, however, to the notion that a feminist (or any woman) would want to burn a bra, hers or someone else's. I want to burn half the bras on the store's racks, too... they're horrible reflections of women's self-hatred and are highly indicative of the way consumer culture breeds these issues.
The decision to go braless is a personal one, though not one I can comfortably make for my curvy self, nor can I bring myself to don a padded piece of hardware. Underwire and padded bras are obviously preferences that are comfortable for many women, and my disdain does not lie in their decision to go that route. I just can't get over the normalcy of those features, features that tell us there are things about our bodies that need to be "fixed," not for our personal comfort but for the way it looks to others. And like so many "fixes," the problems are usually fabricated so a solution can be marketed. Far from the feminist language they co-opt, women's undies comprise yet another industry that feeds off our constant need for improvement, not for personal comfort, but for that age-old impossible standard of beauty.
Once upon a time, I had a friend whose girlfriend had landed a job at one those Oprah-endorsed specialty bra shops. He said to me something like, "You'd probably like this store. Turns out most women are wearing the wrong bra size, and they help you find the right one." Never one to hide my convictions, I remember launching directly into a rant about how the "wrong bra size" statistic is just another attempt at capitalizing on women's insecurities while turning the focus away from real women's issues such as poverty, abuse, pay inequities, etc. I mean really!
Though I can't say I blamed my friend for assuming this was, in fact, a legitimate women's issue. He wasn't exactly well-versed in feminist ideology, and from the outside, many of these specialty stores and brands model themselves to look like champions of women's advancement. Indeed, to take the plunge into any department store undies section is to be inundated with co-opted feminist language: "Empower yourself with the new styles," "Comfort without sacrificing beauty," "Right on, Sister!", etc. It's the garment equivalent of the old Virginia Slims ad, "You've come a long way, baby."
Yes, there's nothing quite like bra shopping to reaffirm your hatred for the the fashion industry. Like big pharma, the people who decide what we put on our bodies are wizards at creating problems they subsequently manufacture products to fix, products that are neither easily replicated nor cheap. They have underwear that encases your thighs and buttocks like sausages with tags that promise to "stop unsightly jiggling." They have tanks that squeeze in your tummy while simultaneously pushing your boobies up towards your chin. There's undies that pad your butt in the "right" area while squishing in the "extra" in another, then there's undies that don't hold much of anything at all but instead just help you floss your buttcrack.
A little further in, when you get to the actual bras, you have more choices to make: bras with wires, bras with molded cups, bras that won't show under t-shirts, bras with chutzpah, minimizer bras, maximizer bras, bras with weird little pockets of fluid in them, bras made of lace, bras that cover everything, bras that don't cover anything, strapless bras that glue themselves to your skin, bras that make your boobs look like torpedoes, bras with something called "nipple protection," the list goes on and on. And all I wanted was a new bra. Something comfortable that I can wear under anything. That, and something with my two uncompromising rules for a new bra: nothing with hardware, and no chutzpah. All these options and barely anything fits my two little requirements. See, I have an ideological problem with underwires. It's not so much that they're uncomfortable, as apparently that's another one of the tell-tale signs that you're not wearing the right size (sure, let's blame the women for picking out the wrong size and not the company that uses child-labor to make a defective product). It's not even so much that you can't put them in the dryer. The problem I have with underwires is what they tell us about our breasts. They're metal for crying out loud! It's almost like they're saying, "Your boobies are so out of control it takes hardware to hold them upright and keep them still." Which is completely false, as I've had many bras that do their job without anything but stretchy fabric and a good design. But they're not easy to find, as I'm a D cup. You can usually find a nice, underwire-free style in the AA, the A, the B, sometimes even the C, but once you get to that D cup, BAM! Your tig ol' bitties need some metal.
Then there's the chutzpah, by which I mean the padding that sits at the bottom of the cup. Once my no-hardware rule has significantly narrowed down my options, the chutzpah seals my fate. See, for some reason, the only way bra designers think you can go without hardware is by adding the under-padding. It's like one replaces the other. Sure, you can go without that uncomfortable metal, but you're gonna need that extra LIFT so we can all see your pretty, perky, lifted boobies. Um, no. My boobies don't need chutzpah, especially not with these D cups. That shit's a health hazard... any extra and I'm liable to put someone's eye out. There's nothing wrong with women wanting that extra lift, but when did chutzpah become the norm in bra design?So went my shopping venture today: walking around the "intimates" section (I hate that word), squeezing the bottoms of each bra, feeling for hidden hardware or chutzpah, and not being surprised when it was present. I did finally find what I wanted, but not without some digging.
When people characterize feminists as "bra burners," the only reason I scoff is because I know the origin of that stereotype and its negative connotations. I don't take offense, however, to the notion that a feminist (or any woman) would want to burn a bra, hers or someone else's. I want to burn half the bras on the store's racks, too... they're horrible reflections of women's self-hatred and are highly indicative of the way consumer culture breeds these issues.
The decision to go braless is a personal one, though not one I can comfortably make for my curvy self, nor can I bring myself to don a padded piece of hardware. Underwire and padded bras are obviously preferences that are comfortable for many women, and my disdain does not lie in their decision to go that route. I just can't get over the normalcy of those features, features that tell us there are things about our bodies that need to be "fixed," not for our personal comfort but for the way it looks to others. And like so many "fixes," the problems are usually fabricated so a solution can be marketed. Far from the feminist language they co-opt, women's undies comprise yet another industry that feeds off our constant need for improvement, not for personal comfort, but for that age-old impossible standard of beauty.
Friday, December 3, 2010
All I Want For Xmas...
On the first day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me....
A funny anti-Palin tee!
On the second day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the third day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Eight moms a-milking,
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Nine girls advancing,
Eight moms a-milking,
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Ten hours of sleeping,
Nine girls advancing,
Eight moms a-milking,
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Eleven bloggers typing,
Ten hours of sleeping,
Nine girls advancing,
Eight moms a-milking,
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true friends gave to me...
Twelve Alan Cummings! (Oh yes, that's right.)
Eleven bloggers typing,
Ten hours of sleeping,
Nine girls advancing,
Eight moms a-milking,
Seven ladies sinning,
Six systems fraying,
FIIIIIIVE GOOOOOLLLLD RIIIIIINNNNGS!!!!!!
Four-lettered words,
Three great friends,
Two kids in love,
And a funny anti-Palin tee!
And a Funny, anti-Palin TEEEEE!!!!!
[fin.]
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Last Night's Nums: Curried fall veggies with quinoa
My grandmother always says that if you had to choose one food to eat forever, you should choose sweet potatoes because of their superior nutritional value. Personally, if there was one food I had to eat forever, it would be a grain, not because of its nutritional value, but just because I love grains! Breads, rice, pasta, cous-cous... there's not a lot of grains I won't eat (except for grits... yes, I'm a pathetic southerner).
Last night's meal contained both grains and sweet potatoes. I'd been wanting to try quinoa, a grain native to South America that's rich in iron and protein, two things my diet could really use more of. So I did a Google search for good quinoa recipes, and came across a true gem that uses both in-season and frozen veggies: quinoa with curried vegetables.
This recipe is pretty easy and can be prepared over a short period of time. Plus, depending on your family size, it will provide a slew of leftovers that reheat well. As an added bonus, the combination of ginger, garlic, and fenugreek can provide a nice supply boost to all you lactating mothers out there!
Those who know my cooking habits know I rarely follow recipes verbatum. Here's the recipe with my personal touches--
Ingredients:
Note that I upped the portion of most spices, except for the fenugreek. Fenugreek is an extremely potent spice when bought fresh-ground, and if you use too much your entire dish will be overwhelmed by a distinct maple syrup taste. If you don't have all of the spices listed above and don't want to buy them (let's face it... quality spices can be pricy), you can just purchase a good quality curry powder. For this recipe, use 2 tbsp of pre-mixed curry powder. Me, I love mixing my own!
I also used a Stokes Purple sweet potato. Stokes Purples are native to the northwestern Piedmont area (mostly in Stokes County, hence the name), an area with unique soil components that makes this particular strain grow a lovely purple. Not only are they local to my area, but they're also higher in anthocyanin (helps promote cardiovascular health) and rich in antioxidants that actually get more potent when cooked. Plus, they're pretty. (Exhibit A.)
I'm sure this recipe would be good with other grains such as white or brown rice, cous-cous, maybe even in noodles, but the quinoa's flavor really seemed to complement the kale. And the increased amount of cayenne pepper was of course wonderful next to the sweet potatoes and coconut milk. Add more if you want an even bigger kick.
Enjoy!!
Last night's meal contained both grains and sweet potatoes. I'd been wanting to try quinoa, a grain native to South America that's rich in iron and protein, two things my diet could really use more of. So I did a Google search for good quinoa recipes, and came across a true gem that uses both in-season and frozen veggies: quinoa with curried vegetables.
This recipe is pretty easy and can be prepared over a short period of time. Plus, depending on your family size, it will provide a slew of leftovers that reheat well. As an added bonus, the combination of ginger, garlic, and fenugreek can provide a nice supply boost to all you lactating mothers out there!
Those who know my cooking habits know I rarely follow recipes verbatum. Here's the recipe with my personal touches--
Ingredients:
- 1 cup quinoa, prepared according to package directions
- 2 Tbsp olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic, pressed
- 1 tbsp minced or grated ginger
- 1 large yam or sweet potato
- 1 lb kale, washed thoroughly, drained well, stems removed and chopped coarsely
- 1 cup frozen green beans
- 2 tsp ground cumin
- 1 tsp ground coriander
- 1/2 tsp ground fenugreek
- 1 tsp ground turmeric
- 1 tsp paprika
- 1 tsp cayanne pepper
- 1 tsp red curry paste
- 1 tsp salt
- 1/2 can coconut milk + 1/2 cup water OR 1 can light coconut milk
Directions:
- Heat the oil on low in the 8 quart pan
- Prep the veggies
- Turn the heat up to medium, fry the garlic and ginger in the oil until the garlic starts to brown
- Turn the heat up to medium-high, add the sweet potato. Sauté 5 minutes until the veggies are heated through.
- Add the cumin, coriander, turmeric, and cayenne if using, and stir 2 more minutes, until well mixed with the veggies. *NOTE: Our cookware is not non-stick, so I added another 1 1/2 tbsp of oil with the spices.
- Add the chopped kale and stir until the kale is wilted
- Add the frozen green beans and stir until blended
- Turn the heat down to medium, cover and cook for 5 minutes, or until the veggies reach the desired doneness. Add a sprinkle of water if the veggies are sticking
- Add the coconut milk and red curry paste if using. Stir well, and cook another 5 minutes
- Stir in cooked quinoa, enjoy!
Note that I upped the portion of most spices, except for the fenugreek. Fenugreek is an extremely potent spice when bought fresh-ground, and if you use too much your entire dish will be overwhelmed by a distinct maple syrup taste. If you don't have all of the spices listed above and don't want to buy them (let's face it... quality spices can be pricy), you can just purchase a good quality curry powder. For this recipe, use 2 tbsp of pre-mixed curry powder. Me, I love mixing my own!
I'm sure this recipe would be good with other grains such as white or brown rice, cous-cous, maybe even in noodles, but the quinoa's flavor really seemed to complement the kale. And the increased amount of cayenne pepper was of course wonderful next to the sweet potatoes and coconut milk. Add more if you want an even bigger kick.
Enjoy!!
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