dear cookbooks

My favorite cookbook right now is called Good Mood Food, by  Donal Skehan.

He is a lovely lad from a fishing village just outside of Dublin. Google him to see his adorableness.

I love his cookbook because it has what all cookbooks ought to:

PHOTOS!

For ALL his recipes!

Left side of the book is gorgeous photo.

Right side of the book is recipe. With not a butt-load of ingredients.

Apparently this is quite the strange concept, because so many cookbooks I see ARE ALL WORDS.

What the what people?

If I don't see glistening frosting or steaming stew or chilled and dewy glasses of name your favorite mixed drink, I am done, done, done. SO uninterested.

Our eyes enjoy food too. Sheesh.

 And when I get to see the end product of cooking lovely food that is lovingly made and it seems so accessible, then I am there doodles.

Now what's for din?

How about page 201, Mixed Vegetable Parmigiano. I've made this one. Scrumpsh.

He also says things like "bring to the boil" and calls food in cans, "tinned goods." So cute.

Now get with it cookbooks. Show me your stuff.

dear hope

It seems to me that you are the one thing we should strive to hold onto forever. And no wonder, for you are the expectation of a longing that can be fulfilled.

We hold hope in our hearts to keep at bay the bleak existence that may be reality.

For the war torn nations,
For the crops that failed,
Because of the eviction notice,
The grim news from the doctor,
For the elephants and all the animals on earth,
Because of apathetic, greedy business practices that serve no good,
For governments to collectively, everyone of them, come to their senses,
For the politically imprisoned and tortured,
For the health of our planet.

We hold hope in so many ways, probably not realizing her quiet strength within us.

By a kind gesture or polite manners,
A donation to a soup kitchen or an animal shelter or a library or a disaster relief fund,
By being of good cheer,
When riding out a storm of depression because people count on you to be alive,
Recycling your ass off,
Stewardship of our trees and rivers and wildflowers and air and water,
Clotheslines people! Clotheslines. There is much hope here.
Love of everyday life. This includes dishes, laundry and cleaning up the cat vom,
Feeling the breeze and listening to the birds.

These are all hopeful practices.

And just because you can't see and hear the leaves of Hope, so melodic in the wind, doesn't mean that her roots aren't still strong and intact, ever present and ever hopeful.

I love you Hope.

p.s.

Miss Dickinson was, of course, spot on accurate.