feminist bread recipe

Feminist Bread

(adapted from a zucchini bread recipe given to me by my ‘second mom’, who is a feminist.)


– 2 eggs

– 3/4 cup sugar

– 1/3 cup oil

– 1 cup grated mixture of apple and carrot

– some grated ginger

– 1 tsp vanilla

– 1 3/4 cup flour (I mix wheat and plain)

– 1/2 tsp each: baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, mixed spice

– some nuts or mixed seeds

Mix everything together.  Bake in a greased pan for 45 mins to an hour at 350 degrees F (176 C).

Delicious and liberating!

apple carrot bread

this weekend i had parsnips for breakfast

this weekend i had parsnips for breakfast

I’m part of a veg bag scheme (called Local Greens), which runs like this: you sign up with a group and pay a weekly fee, then pick up your dirty vegetables in a white plastic bag at the local pub or wherever, then spend the rest of the week trying to fit vegetables into your life. It’s a grab bag – you can’t decide what goes in there and this makes you do weird things. Like eat parsnips for breakfast.

Includes: parsnips, red pepper, potatoes, garlic, and leeks, chopped and tossed in basil oil, a little salt & pepper. Cook in skillet until tasty-looking.

It’s not the weirdest culinary thing I’ve done, but it’s up there.

hot toddy

It’s the kind of Monday you feel in your bones.  You don’t want to work today.  Nobody else does either.  You hover around the kettle and try to be cheerful.  It doesn’t work.  There’s a perpetual lukewarm pool of milky tea in your mug that you can’t be bothered to reheat.  You’ve been staring at that screen blankly for ? minutes, ? hours.  Maybe days.  Something in your brain has stopped working.  Maybe you’ve caught that gross office cold that’s going around.

When I feel run down and grumpy or sniffly, I make this tea and feel nice again.    If you do have a cold, drink it religiously every night with a good book.

Hot Herbal Toddy

Sprig each of fresh herbs, including: mint, basil, sage, etc

Thin slice of lemon

Thin slice of ginger

A few cloves

Some cinnamon (cassia) bark

Two teaspoons of brandy or whisky

Teaspoon of honey

– Simmer the herbs, lemon, ginger and cloves with a mug and a half of water in a small pot.  Simmer for about 15 mins.

– Put the honey and brandy/whisky in a mug.

– Pour the tea into the mug (discard the herbs and stuff).

Sip and think happy thoughts.

(Adapted from a recipe in this hippie cookbook a friend bought me: Unplugged Kitchen by Viana la Place.)




I Give the Lord Credit Chilli

Appalachians are seasonal folk.  At some point right around now-ish, when the air takes on that nip in the morning and the leaves start to change, Appalachians everywhere are getting ready.  Dusting off the hiking boots, breaking out the knitting, pulling the quilts out from the closet.  No one has to tell us it’s time to break out the slow cooker and make chilli.  We just know.

My dad makes the best chilli, of course.  He lives in a holler (hollow?) in Hiwassee, Virginia.  On a day like this, with the sky so painfully blue and the breeze blowing through my clothes on the line, I long for the smell of pipe tobacco and wood burning in his old stove, and a rambling story or sermon told over a steaming bowl of something cooked nice and slow.

Below is Daddy’s recipe for chilli.  He’s a religious man, so he gives the Lord credit for pretty much everything.

‘I Give the Lord Credit’ Chilli

– 1 lb mince meat (beef, turkey or deer meat)

– some chopped onions

– flour – whole wheat

– sesame seeds (if you got ’em)

– garlic, cumin, cilantro (coriander), chilli powder (all to taste)

– pinto beans (tinned or soaked & cooked – like about a can’s worth)

– can of tomato sauce

– can of Rotel chillies (you can sub canned tomatoes and chop up some chillies)

– fresh, minced habenero chillies (to taste)

Brown minced meat and onions in a heavy saucepan (cast iron is best). Drain the grease from the meat and set aside.

Add the pintos and tomato sauce to the pan and cook for a while. Like 10 mins.

Mix the same amount of flour as the meat grease (drippings) – mix it real good.

Dump the flour/drippings paste and all the rest of the ingredients into the pan.

While cooking, give a long sermon (optional).

Cook until your house smells so good your neighbours invite themselves over.

Serve with corn bread and shredded cheese.

Don’t forget to give the Lord credit.