Things are getting out of hand here

Photo Eva Joos

It has to stop. I spend more time in my kitchen than ever. Have no idea what's gotten into me lately, but I just can't stop cook and bake. Recipes are being read and made instantly. Not just one recipe a day, I'm talking like 6 or even 7 recipes a day. Reading about this, makes me sick to my stomach. It's a good thing though, I don't eat it all. But like someone asked me this week: who eats all of that food??? I didn't know the answer to that question. It made me reflect over why this is happening.

Let's discuss today, for example. What have I been doing all day? It started out this morning, with breakfast in one hand, and the other hand on the keyboard of my laptop. Trying to figure out what I could make this very same day. Since Hubby needed an early lunch before he headed off to work, I had defrosted veal chops the night before. I hate ordinary cooking, so I googled "veal chops" and "Italian recipe".

Foto Cathy Van de Moortele

I love to cook Italian dishes and I love the herbs and simplicity in the food. It is simple and honest food, but it's not ordinary. It's not like frying up some sausages. I need more excitement, I need passion in my cooking. So Hubby ended up with a plate of saltimbocca alla Romana and stewed string beans.  By the sight of his cleared plate and the compliments, I couldn't but agree it had been tasteful.
By then I was thinking of what I could make for lunch for me and the girls. I had loads of fresh whole wheat cappellini I had made the day before. So I was thinking I could make a pasta dish with browned butter and sage sauce and.. Can you hear me rattle on? I had to pick up Lana in Eeklo, so that gave me the opportunity to run some more errands. I wanted to please her with her special ravioli she craves: with a filling of goat's cheese, ground hazelnuts, slivers of summer truffle and soft bacon bits, it's just sublime. It is my signature dish. But she said she had already eaten ravioli just the day before, while my sister-in-law was here for cooking class.. Hmhmhm... she got a point there. So maybe she wasn't interested in another match of meringue with lemon curd either? Well... desserts are always a hit around this house.

I whipped up the 6 egg whites I had kept in my fridge (meringues come out better when using egg whites that are a couple of days old) and I preheated the oven. That's when it occurred to me, that we didn't have any bread for tonight's dinner. Okay, I could've sent one of the girls to the bakery to get a fresh loaf, but since the oven was heating.. So I wanted to give that Dutch crunch bread recipe another go. The girls were giving me that look.. you know.. the rolling eyes.

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

I was thinking of that huge basket of laundry that needs to be ironed. It has been sitting upstairs for over more than 2 weeks already. But strangely, the thought of the wrinkled laundry vanished real fast. Another recipe crossed my mind! After all, I had not yet tested the new ice cream maker! How about butterscotch ice cream? Wouldn't that be great???

While the ice cream maker was running, I had the time to chop up some Werther's Original Caramelts to top the butterscotch ice cream with. Some disappeared in my mouth, while I took a peek in the oven to see how the meringues were doing. My mind was drifting off, thinking about dinner for the following day. Sunday is a working day for both Hubby and I. I need time to cook, so I wanted to think of some Sunday recipe I could make in advance. Coming home around 6:15 PM, I will only have to heat up the Coq au Vin to feed my crowd. Did I mention the asparagus soup that was sitting on the stove? The girls don't eat that much soup, but when I blend it and make sure it's silky and smooth, they don't mind having a bowl. After all, they do need their veggies right?

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

The Dutch crunch bread came out real well this time. I was proud of myself! There was some leftover whole wheat bread I had baked the day before, so we ate half of that and half of the fresh loaf.

My back is hurting. My shoulders ache and my knees could use some rest. Time to sit down and read some.. cookbooks. How about I make a deal with myself, that next week, I will do more of the household chores and less of the cooking fun? I have about half an hour to relax now. It's only 9:30 PM. I could make some more tortellini filled with 4 different kinds of meat and a luscious marinara sauce, you know. I want to bring this pasta dish to work tomorrow. I'm sure the family would love to try it.. I'll make tomorrow's oatmeal and red fruit cereal first. Can't miss breakfast, can I?

Conviviality

My sister-in-law and I, we make a good team. Her infectious laugh makes me wanna pee in my pants. Right after we finished vegetarian cooking class, we decided we wanted to go through with these cooking sessions. Plans were made to have an Italian cooking class at my place and after she picked some recipes from my food blog, we set a date.

Mikey has had the opportunity to take Italian speech classes and I envy her for having visited Italy on numerous occasions. In fact, she and her boyfriend are going to the picturesque Monforte d'Alba this summer. I googled the community and I must say: I wouldn't hesitate to join her. How familiar it sounded when she said she was already looking into where they would have dinner.. That's exactly what I would look into! We love to eat and we share the same love for food and cooking.

Today's class was about making pasta. We started out with an Italian appetizer of crispy "finocchio ciappe" crackers with a dip of peppers and walnut. The pasta machine comes in real handy if you want your ciappe real thin and crispy. Mikey had brought a bottle of Martini Royale Bianco. The counter was full of supplies and all dusted with semolina flour. Ready to start making fresh pasta!

My heart swelled with pride when I saw Mikey's enthousiasm once her first cappellini rolled out of the pasta machine. She was so thrilled and the giggles that came from her direction, were very satisfying. She wanted to show her boyfriend and family how well she could make pasta and I'm sure they will agree with her on the taste and softness of her home cooked pasta dishes.

Lana watched us make her favorite ravioli with a filling of goat's cheese, roasted hazelnuts, some slivers of summer truffle and tender bacon bits. Covered in a cream sauce with snipped chives and some extra truffle oil, these ravioli are so sublime, this signature recipe could definitely win a cooking contest. Once the ravioli were put into the freezer to set, we were ready for the more advanced class of making tortellini. It takes some skill to form these precious goodies filled with ricotta and fresh herbs. You have to make sure they come out round and evenly and you have to be aware the filling doesn't spill. I must say, my sister-in-law did real well. It took me many hours and several attempts of watching video tutorials before my first perfect tortellini hit the tray. I could feel her excitement and I'm sure she would eat her little treasures with pride and joy.

We enjoyed lunch together with the whole family, since the girls were home after their exams and hubby had the day off. There was a choice of different ravioli and sauces I had already prepared in advance. Our tummies filled with tender pasta, we headed back to the kitchen to continue our cooking class. There was some leftover poached chicken in my fridge, so we decided to make some ravissimo with smoked paprika chicken mousse. They came out real well and the freezer got stuffed with our little parcels of surprises.



Over latte macchiato and dessert (Mikey had brought some delicious home made amaretti and mascarpone mousse), she asked me when we would have our second cooking class together. I'm looking forward to that! I'm ready to try out her dessert recipe, so my family can enjoy an excellent dessert after another pasta meal.

Thank you for coming over sis. I'm sure we will do this again.. Your car was stuffed with goodies and I'm sure you boyfriend and the little guy enjoyed their Italian meal..

It's been seven hours and fifteen days..

Photo Lana Joos

Not really. It's been a whole lot more. Eleven years, to be exact. It's been E-LE-VEN ! years since I got diagnosed with D. It was a scary moment but at the same time a moment of relief and understanding. I was glad a doctor finally took me and my symptoms serious. A doctor, who - by a simple poke in my finger - could tell me the symptoms I had, were the symptoms of diabetes. She didn't have to hesitate, since the number on the screen of her glucometer was 599 mg/dl. If you know that normal sober numbers are below 100 mg/dl, it doesn't take much disbelief to realize this was actually diabetes. Did she say: DIE-a-beetus??? She sure told me about complications like kidney failure, amputation of toes and even feet, loss of eye sight, heart failure.. Grumble. Not very pretty you know. I asked her when those complications would first show their face. She told me I could expect the first signs of complications 10 years after diagnosis. Hello? I was nearly 31 when she found out. Did that mean, that by the time I was 41, I would need dialysis 3 times a week? Would I have to wear orthopedic shoes to help me walk after having my toes surgically removed? Would I ever see my kids grow up into beautiful adults?

Right there and then, I was determined I was going to do the best I could, to prevent myself from getting those nasty complications. I was put on injections 4 times a day and had to poke my fingers as many times. I was told how much insulin I had to inject for my meals and what I was supposed to eat to cover that. The dietitian told me I had to weigh a 300 gr portion of boiled potatoes (!), a fair amount of vegetables and a small part of meat or fish for my warm supper. I could no longer eat fruit or dairy products without thinking and I had to give up on sweets. I was lucky she didn't forbid me to drink diet coke..

It didn't take me long to accept the verdict. I didn't mind poking my fingers, I didn't care about the needles that punctured my skin while injecting insulin. I hated that Lantus though.. It had to be injected in my thigh and it gave me a burning sensation and pain, every time I forced myself to inject. Some years later, I had to divide that ugly Lantus into two portions: one in the morning, one at night. It didn't work well for me. I had quite a bit of high readings and my doctor wasn't very happy with the way I treated my diabetes. In fact she thought of me like I was her worst patient ever.. My hemoglobin HbA1c didn't drop below 8.5% while I was her patient and my weight kept going up. I was unhappy with how things were going and I started to dislike D. But hey! Diabetes is chronic, forever, for life!

After 4 years and numerous shots later, I decided to give the insulin pump a try and like the saying: once you go black, you never go back, it's the same with the insulin pump. I would harm you if you would try to steal or break my pump. It's what keeps me alive and it's what gives me better control.

Just this year, 7 years of pumping and poking my fingers at least 6 times a day, I decided it was time to move on. Since my Dexcom CGM entered my life, I no longer fear complications. Dexcom will help me get better control and teach me about my body and how food, exercise, stress, emotions, work, sickness have their effect on my blood sugar. I'm grateful that I got diabetes in the 21st century and the fact that we have access to the most modern treatments, is a bonus.

I'm planning on living a whole lot more years of a complication free life with D. After all, I'm more than complicated already..

I'll take it!

We were in South-Africa. My mother and I, that is. Invited by our neighbor's son, who was a missionary back then in Potchefstroom, we were enjoying the South-African sun. Roaming around on a local market, we were the attraction of the day. In those days, apartheid was still very hot. We were not racist at all. On the contrary, we wanted to mingle with the locals. They were not very happy with our decision and apparently it was very inconvenient and uncomfortable for them. They didn't trust our presence. We didn't know any better, being the naive tourists we were. When I think of it, even back then, at the age of 19, I was already interested in food. I loved to stroll on the local markets and discover new products. There was this old lady, dressed in a colorful but shabby dress. She had very little things to sell and most of it was barely noticeable, because of all the flies sitting on top of the fruit and vegetables. I was so curious to find out what that black, leather look like fruit was. We asked if we could pick it up. I tried to smell it, but couldn't identify the fruit. The lady laughed and showed the leftovers of what once was her beautiful denture. She picked three pieces of what we were pointing at and put it in a brown paper bag. We couldn't wait to cut that mysterious piece of fruit. We brought it back to the house we were staying at and asked the cook of the house what we had bought. He couldn't stop laughing, for we had bought overripe avocados... We were so stupid.. we had never seen ripe avocados before, for back in those days, nobody had ever bought avocados where we lived.. I can tell you: avocados have to be ripe, but skip the mushy ones. They are no good..

Feminine features

You said you fell in love with me for my fantastic calves. Those calves were the proof of my sporty nature. At least, that's what you thought. Either I was fond of riding my bicycle or I must go for long walks. I did neither one.. I don't know how I ended up with those nice muscular lower legs, but you were not the first to say. I have always liked my lower legs, just like you have. I still don't ride bicycles (what were you thinking) and I only walk from the front door to the car. But yes, I have convinced myself sports could be good for me. Well, I haven't convinced myself, my diabetic friends have. One of them told me I am really good at motivating others, but I don't work out myself. And he's absolutely right. I haven't been much of an example when it comes to exercising. I think I'm just too lazy for sports.

For a number of times now, I have packed my sports bag to go to the swimming pool. My first attempt was really pathetic. I didn't know how to swim right or keep my head under water. But I went and I got into the freezing cold water and yes, I complained and nagged a lot. Things have gone better over time. I even schedule my swim moment in my agenda, so I don't let anything interfere. Most of the times, hubby joins me, but if he can't or doesn't feel like it, I go by myself. I'm doing better now. Two new swimsuits, goggles and a  nose clip have been added to my back pack and that makes the swimming easier. It's good to know that Mr Baywatch is keeping an eye on me. He knows about my diabetes and he keeps an eye on my glucometer and Dexcom for me. I always bring a small can of regular coke, just in case. Whenever I stop swimming somewhere in the middle of the pool, he runs to me to check if I'm okay. I have told him now, that if I see he's worried, I will raise my thumb. If I don't, it means I'm in trouble.

Last week, I went to the pool all by myself. There weren't many school kids and I no longer fear the cold water. Now I can actually say I don't even mind the coldness. I march down the steps, right in to the water. Goggles in place, nose clip ready and there I go. I swim 10 lengths and I come out of the water to check my Dexcom. Most of the times, I need 1 small can of coke by then. I have my coke and I go back into the water. I can see people look at the transmitter on my upper arm, but I don't care. It's there to help me keep control and it makes me feel more secure in the water.

I'm proud of myself. If the swimming could turn my back into a V-shape, that would be awesome. It will probably never happen, but it can't harm to dream, can it?

Monday Monday

Never before had I heard about The Mamas & The Papas. This American vocal folk group was very popular in the sixties, I was told. The little girl I took care of at the time, had one of their tapes and she knew all the songs by heart. At first I wasn't that impressed with the music, but over the weeks I learned to appreciate it. Every morning, when I would take Natalie to school, I would put the tape in the recorder and we would start to sing along. We had to cross several bridges in downtown Portland, to drop off her parents at work, before we would continue our way to the French school Natalie was frequenting. Since we always played that same tape, it was a sport to make sure the correct song was playing nearby the correct bridge. Depending on traffic, we would make it or not. That one song I never forgot, was Monday Monday. The two of us would sing real loud. Natalie would be sitting in the back in her car seat, a smile from ear to ear. I would dress her in the morning, and I remember being goofy by giving her two different colored sneakers. She would wear a white sneaker with a pink sock and a pink sneaker with a white sock. It instantly brightened our day. I liked taking Natalie to school. I would pick her up around lunch time and then the game would start all over again. Another favorite of ours, was Dream a little dream of me. It was pretty melancholic and dramatic and you should've seen our faces while singing the lyrics. That must have been totally ridiculous for the people in the cars around us. But we could care less. Our time in the car was never boring. Thanks to The Mamas & The Papas. 

Daddy's girls

They lay down on the couch, their eyes closing every now and then, to continue their dreams of chasing cats and bunnies. It's still very quiet around the house. The sunbeams peek through the windows and I have turned down the volume of the radio, for I don't want to disturb the silence of this Sunday morning. Right above my head, I hear him stumble out of bed. Inthe has heard something too, for she's pointing one ear and her eyes are open wide. Could it be? Is it time to get up? O yes! I can hear daddy flush the toilet before he comes down the stairs. Backwards, of course, just the way his mom taught him as a child. Some of the steps are creaking but that's part of the charm of a one century old house. By the time dad is down the hallway, both dogs are waiting for him by the door. They are all excited, to be seen by the wagging of their tail. He has a hard time coming inside, because they are blocking the doorway. Daddy's here! Daddy's here! How lovely!

While I make coffee, Daddy scratches his hair and yawns away the sleep. He rubs his eyes and touches his beard, to see if he needs a shave. Both dogs are sitting beside him at the kitchen table. They are like statues, so quiet. Their gaze is focused on one person: Daddy.. He tells them he wants to have his yogurt and cereal breakfast before the walk. So they wait a bit longer. Once he gets up and puts on his clothes, Inthe becomes his very own shadow. She won't loose track of him now. Rebba is more chill about it. So she strolls back to the couch, throws out the pillows I just rearranged, scratches the cushions and then finds a better spot on the other side. Her head is pointed towards the kitchen though and her ears are turning constantly. Daddy is looking for his shoes and when he opens the door to get the leashes, Inthe is loosing her marbles. She sticks to his leg and follows him all around. As a joke, he walks around the table and she is right there, beside him.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Inthe puts her legs right on his shoulders and licks his ears and nose. Her tail is even more excited and can't stop wagging. Rebba is trying to look the most uninterested as possible. She's a bit different, you know. She needs her own special invitation. Daddy walks towards Rebba and asks her in a soft voice: "Wanna go for a walk, Rebba?". "Who? Me? Really? Are you kidding me? Of course!". That's when Rebba finally gets of the couch to put on her leash. Both dogs look at me like if they want to say: aren't you coming, mom?

The house is quiet again. The dogs are enjoying their walk. They are marking their territory as often as they can, before Daddy frees them from their leashes. They can run their lungs out at the soccer field, playing fetch and chasing each other. Daddy gets to pick up the poop and trash the purple bags somewhere along the line. The girls are so different and yet so much alike. Almost like our two daughters, I guess. The oldest dog has Daddy's last name, while Inthe is carrying my last name. Just like Lana looks after her father and Eva is mommy's girl. People may have the same features as their pets. Sometimes the children do too..

Eye to eye

I don't remember whether we had a membership to the magazine or not, but we sure got hold of it every week. "Joepie" magazine was real hot in our days. Every teen had to read it and not skip one article. There were interesting columns and youngsters could send in questions they had on most any subject. You would read answers on how to French kiss or if you could get pregnant by holding hands with your boyfriend. Really important! There was no Internet back then and if we wanted to contact the editors, we had to send them a real, handwritten letter. That was a big deal, because that letter needed a stamp so we needed money (that we didn't have). I don't think I ever sent in a question, but I did read all of the Q&A's other people sent in. Some answers were a big relief and other answers I had to read twice for I didn't understand. Being 13 in the beginning of the 80's was a bit different from being 13 nowadays. We were very naive and ignorant and certainly not informed about grown up matters.
Anyway, reading the "Joepie" was good for English class as well. Every week, the lyrics of popular songs would be written down for us to read and learn by heart. Most of the time, we would just sing along and mimic the words, for we didn't understand anything of the contents but some words. Just this very same day, we were singing along with Too Shy by Kajagoogoo, when I realized we needed the lyrics. I haven't read the "Joepie" for a very long time but there is the Internet now. You're only one click away from finding the exact words to a song. Kajagoogoo had the right words: eye to eye, while we had been singing I do I for as many years. We must have skipped that "Joepie" edition, I'm sure of it.

Looking at things from the right angle

I loved to look at you, when you were turning the handle of your little bingo machine. Very focused and extremely serious, you would write down the numbers of the tiny balls that came rolling out of the machine. You would take a second glance at the numbers on the sheet of paper and then decide whether you needed to spin the machine again or not. I don't know what made you decide the numbers were good or bad, although you tried to explain it to me a number of times. There had to be some meaning or logic in the sequence of the numbers. If you couldn't trace that logic, you were convinced they wouldn't do you any good. So you started all over again. The tiny balls were put back into the machine and you would spin the handle again. It could take quite some time for you to finish your game. Then you would ask your children what they thought was the best series of numbers. They were very serious about it too. I suspect they would not even have tried to joke about it, because they knew how important it was to you..

I remember two occasions, where your daughter pointed out a series of numbers. You didn't agree and you picked your own. The funny thing is, you would hold on to the piece of paper, scribbled with dozens of numbers, while you were watching the lottery on TV. You would be all sweaty and everybody had to leave you alone and be quiet. On two occasions, your daughter was right about all 6 numbers! That is, if you would have handed in her choice of numbers.. The sadness on your face was really moving, when the host of the show would state the amount of money one could've won. You went on for many, many years and you kept all the scribbles with numbers for as long as it took. Every now and then, you would go back to one particular note and pick the same sequence. But the bingo machine kept going and you kept writing down new combinations..

We filled out lottery tickets for a number of years. It didn't bring us more than what we had paid for, so we finally gave up. It must be awesome to win the lottery. But guess what? I have my family. No lottery ticket can compete with that. Just look at things from the right angle.. Winning a suitcase full of money must be fab, but it can bring you bad luck as well. Making your own luck is a longer journey but it's worth the try.

I'm on board

When you asked me to join you to cooking class, I didn't hesitate one moment. I love cooking classes! There are always new things to learn and when you explained this class was vegetarian, I wanted to go. The teacher has a history of knowledge on cooking macrobiotic meals and she is more than willing to share that information with us. I'm not much of a meat eater, but I'm no vegetarian either. I like my vegetables, don't get me wrong, but I'm not really familiar with the vegetarian diet. So I packed my notebook and I was very anxious to learn more about it.

My sister-in-law has been working for this company in vegetarian produce and she's a fan of the diet. I know she has a lot of knowledge to share as well. So yes, I'm happy she asked me to join her. I have eaten things I had never tasted before. Some I liked, some were a real turn off, but I'm open to tasting anything. I'm a little hesitant to bring the produce into our home, since my husband is a meat eater. He would not replace his meat by substitutes. I don't look at it that way. I don't want to replace anything. I see vegetarian food as a bonus to my dishes. It's good to bring some variation into your diet, so you get to absorb all the vitamins one could possibly need.

Looking forward to the next class. I'll see you in a bit.

Do you remember the times...

Her name was Kathy. She was my best friend in elementary school. We would sit next to each other from first grade until sixth grade and were really upset if we couldn't for some reason. Because we shared our name, our friends would refer to us as Kathy 1 and Cathy 2. She was Kathy 1, first in the alphabet by her last name. We lived on the same street and we would always walk home together. Her parents were divorced and that was not very common in those days. She was a quiet girl, but very outgoing when we were together.

On the playground, we would hold hands and play games. She would bring her elastic band and I would bring a hool-a-hoop. I have no idea if kids still play these games during recess? The elastic band game asked for 3 kids, at the least. Two kids had to step inside and hold the band around their ankles. Another child would jump over and in between the elastic band by a certain sequence. If the child had finished that sequence, the elastic band would be shifted up higher, up to the calves, then the back of the knees, thighs and waistline. Most of the time, we wouldn't be able to finish the game, for the schoolbell would disturb us. There was always another recess to continue the game. Thinking about it, brings back good memories of my friendship with Kathy 1. I hear from her every now and then. She has two kids, just like we do. Isn't it funny that her and our youngest went to summer camp together, not knowing their moms used to be best friends? We didn't find out until after camp. But that was kinda weird to know. She looks so much like her mom and Kathy 1 said the same about our daughter. L'histoire se répète, one could think. But that won't happen. The girls are no longer in elementary school. Teens don't play old-time-games any more. But I'm happy they still have best friends to talk to. I'm sure they have a lot to discuss, just like we did in our days..

I have this crazy idea

My husband says I'm not normal. To a certain extend, I can't blame him for saying so. It's probably not very common to start cooking as soon as you read a recipe. He's always amazed at how I can start to cook just out of the blue, no matter what time of day it is. It's not about the eating, it's all about the cooking or baking. If I get hold of a cookbook full of pictures, it just makes my mouth water and my fingers itch to get at it. So I think about my supplies and an instant smile appears on my face if I'm sure I have all the products in my pantry. Whether I want to cook mushroom soup with three kinds of mushrooms or bake bread rolls or a moist rhubarb pie: I can do it. In the meantime, I prepare my oatmeal and fruit breakfast for the next day or I beat batter to make pancakes for tea. Sometimes the bowl of my Kenwood has to be taken out of the dishwasher to serve for the next recipe. Am I crazy? Obsessed? Totally insane? Probably. But I love it. I love the chaos and the activity around the kitchen. TV doesn't do anything for me. Except if the Food Channel is on. Maybe I should have a TV in my kitchen, so I can watch new recipes while I'm cooking and indulge all that new cookspiration.. Can't wait to do some more grocery shopping. I'm mentally preparing myself to the menu of the week and I'm getting all hyper over it. Now let me be, okay? I have to stir that sauce and check the oven, for the house is smelling of home made bread..