It’s a little silly that a simple post about a can of soup is one of my favorites. But this is the point: no matter how you eat (vegetarian, omnivore, whatever) everyone, everyone deserves to eat better that this. Especially our children.
Don’t you agree?
Originally posted: October 7, 2010
I feel so bad when the girls are sick, and not just because I have to pick up soggy tissues that I inevitably find in totally inappropriate places. Like Gigi’s underwear drawer. Lulu’s jewelry box. My coffee cup. Good until the last drop.
I feel worse about the droopy eyes, the heavy mouth breathing and the hacking cough. And then there’s Dora.
I have a lot of problems with Dora.
She has no fashion sense. Pink shirt. Orange shorts. Yellow anklets in white orthopedic shoes. Accessorized with a purple backpack full of the most random assortment of useless items a seven year-old has no business having, including duct tape, maracas, a space suit and a ladder. That’s not normal. But Gigi thinks it is and our Philips head screwdriver, harmonica and ear muffs are currently missing.
It also unnerves me that Dora is permitted to just roam around the town, mountains, troll bridges, beach and outer space with a talking monkey. Yo, Mami and Papi? Spring for a babysitter or at least get your girl a GPS, because I pretty much want to light that map on fire every time he sings “I’m a map…I’m a map…I’m a map…I’m a map…I’m a MAP!”
And Dora needs to stop teaching my children to yell at the TV. “If you see the Wishing Wizzle’s crystal, yell ‘CRYSTAL’!” Actually don’t yell in my living room. Ever. Unless it’s on fire and it’s not due to a burning, talking map.
But Dora’s worst offense comes in a can, and then she has to go and lie about it. The girls have been 100% vegetarian for almost two years now and don’t ever ask to eat meat. But they do ask for Dora soup. And because of this, I’ve had a hard time saying no to a can of chicken noodle soup when they are sick.
It just got a whole lot easier.
I knew “mechanically separated chicken” wasn’t a good thing. But it wasn’t until Gena tweeted a link to this story that I knew how bad it really is.
That dear friends, is mechanically separated chicken.
That is the result of a machine scraping clean every ounce of chicken meat off of the bones and putting it through a high pressure sieve. Then, sources say, “because it’s crawling with bacteria, it will be washed with ammonia…because it tastes gross, it will be reflavored artificially. Then, because it is weirdly pink, it will be dyed with artificial color.”
Sorry, Dora, but you are a liar.
There’s no way that can be healthy for kids.
Luckily, I have a soup that is almost as easy as opening a can. And though there are no Dora-shaped noodles, it’s also “pink guts soft-serve”-free.
Roasted Squash and White Bean Soup
- 1 medium onion, in large chunks
- 2 c. roasted winter squash (golden nugget, kabocha, butternut, pumpkin, etc.)***
- 3 c. organic vegetable broth
- One 15 oz. can white beans (cannelini, Great Northern, etc.), drained and rinsed
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 t. curry powder
- 1/4 t. garam masala
- salt and pepper to taste
- additional spices to taste, i.e. stevia or sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, etc.
- optional soup toppings: crumbled tempeh bacon or vegetarian sausage, pumpkin seeds, dried cranberries, etc.
***If you have no time for squash roasting, you could even just sub a 15 oz. can of pumpkin and then just saute your onion in a pan on the stovetop
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Prepare onion and squash for roasting by cutting and seeding squash and peeling onion and placing it cut side down on a baking sheet sprayed with cooking spray.
This is a Golden Nugget. It is an oriental pumpkin, much like a kabocha. It is delicious. I also have no tools in my backpack that could possibly get the skin off, so I leave it on.
Roast for 40-50 minutes, until onion is starting to brown and squash is starting to caramelize.
Resist the urge to grab a fork and call that dinner. Think about the children.
Scrape the squash into a blender, along with the onion and remaining ingredients.
Blend until smooth.
Transfer soup to a large pot and heat through over medium high heat.
Adjust seasoning to taste. I added a little cinnamon and nutmeg to ours.
Served up with some homemade bread with Earth Balance? Irresistible.
A quick and easy soup for my sick hija that doesn’t have “chicken bone Laffy Taffy” in it. We did it!
“I’m Mama Pea…Mama Pea…Mama Pea…Mama Pea…MAMA PEAAAAA!”
I think I can still hear the recorder from Maui. Maybe she’ll leave it at Mimi and Poppy’s?
Originally posted: August 29, 2011
Any time I have to go somewhere and leave Pea Daddy in charge, I get scared.
I’m not scared the girls will get hurt, be underfed or even that they will walk around with mismatched clothes and unkempt hair. I’m not here, why should I care?
My main concern now is what I will return home to. It’s happened before:
A new tree. Not a bouquet of flowers in a subtle vase. An entire living, breathing tree that someone paid for with an enormous amount of money and then had to plant in an enormous hole. Good thing Pea Daddy had that shovel handy when he had to explain it to me.
A new easel. Not a drawing pad and a box of crayons. An entire four-feet tall scaffold with dry erase pens, chalk and giant rolls of butcher paper on which to make the biggest picture in the world. Daily.
A new bookshelf. Not a new book or even demure book ends. An entire set of four ominous, black iron shelves now overflowing with real books. And pineapple-shaped Tommy Bahama bookends. And an unopened Kindle.
When I left to go the conference on Saturday, Pea Daddy and the girls were headed out in a wagon to do one of the few things I’d prefer they’d do without me. (Please add, “See The Smurfs” to that list.)
They went garage sale-ing.
I can’t stand garage sales. I have enough of my own crap in my own house that I don’t want (see Tommy Bahama bookends). Why would I pay even a nominal amount of money for someone else’s crap?
Especially someone else’s crap that has had their mouth on it.
Shiver.
For some reason I will never be able to explain, Pea Daddy thought it would be a good idea to let Gigi bring home this little treasure.
And it is her new best friend. Can inanimate objects be best friends?
I know firsthand that they can be sworn enemies.
“I’ll get you, Recorder, if it’s the last thing I do!”
Gigi has been playing the blasted thing non-stop. She knows one note.
It might be “C.” Although, it’d be far more appropriate if it were “F.” Because that’s what comes to mind for me whenever she gets the recorder out.
A lack of notes doesn’t stop her, though, from playing one-note versions of “Happy Birthday,” “Row Row Row Your Boat,” and what she today claimed was “The Mommy Cooking Show Theme Song.” We may have some copyright infringement issues, though because it sounded an awful lot like “Happy Birthday” (and “Row Row Row Your Boat.”) And I do mean an awful lot.
We’ve had to institute some household rules to prevent me from piercing my own eardrops with cake pop sticks.
1. No playing the recorder before anyone else is awake. I’ve told Gigi that sometimes I sleep with my eyes open. Today I worked out, ate breakfast and baked a cake all while being sound asleep. Shhh…don’t wake me up.
2. No playing the recorder while eating. We had eleven snacks before lunch. It must be a growth spurt.
3. No playing the recorder while Mommy or Daddy is driving. I’m planning a road trip tomorrow. I hear Argentina is nice this time of year.
4. Always love each other and encourage our passions and dreams. As Gigi played “Happy Row Your Boat Theme Song” today, Lulu exclaimed, “Gigi! That was BEAUTIFUL!”
Then Gigi turned to serenade a rock, and Lulu showed me how she really felt.
So we had a snack. While sleeping. And driving to Argentina.
