Thanksgiving wrap-up

Look at that spread! To think, this was only one of three Thanksgivings I was blessed enough to enjoy this year. This one was at my mom's house, and what was so outstanding about hers was the fact that all but ONE vegetable came from her garden. From the top left, clockwise:Green bean casserole (fresh green beans)Gravy, turkey, rolls, and dressingPecan pie (you guessed it, homemade with home-grown pecans)Butternut squash pie (I made this with one of mom's squash)Pickle platter (okra, cucumbers, and tomatoes from the garden; also the one non-garden veggie--olives)Roasted butternut squash and shallots...

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veggie chili

As the holidays near, time is a precious commodity. I use most of mine cooking and preparing, gluing silver findings on to glass pendants, rounding corners on cardstock, and deciding exactly which recipe to use. This week we're celebrating Thanksgiving three times, and I couldn't be happier about that. I wish I'd had the time and the wherewithall to take pictures of my cooking extravaganza yesterday (homemade stuffing, two sourdough loaves, spinach and artichoke dip, birthday cupcakes with frosting, and more!) but alas—I've found that it's hard enough just to keep up with the to-do list!In the...

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Part 2: The Reaction

Years ago—and I'm sure that my Dad won't remember saying this, and that's ok—I asked my Dad what he'd think if I became a vegetarian. "I'd disown you, honey." He said it with love, of course, but I detected absolutely no sarcasm in his voice. I laughed it off, as the possibility of me becoming vegetarian was so out there that it didn't matter anyway. But imagine my trepidation when I did in fact decide that I'd be embarking on this journey? All of a sudden, I felt like I was going to have to have The Talk with my father. That I'd have to come out to him as One Who Will Henceforward Revoke...

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Part 1: The Conversion

Before I begin, I want you to know a few things. Most importantly, I grew up on a farm. I don't just mean there was a farm behind our house; I mean, my grandparents ran a working farm as their means of living. We had cattle, sheep, and crops. In the fall, we loved going to the barn because of the trailer full of soft cottonseed. We loved giving the cows salt licks, and I had the distinction of being the oldest so I got to go up to the hay loft, cut open bails with wire cutters, and pitch down hay into the trough. I have known my whole life where beef comes from, and even though my siblings and...

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