Tag Archives: church

Wish you were here

Hi ladies and gents!

I’m just stopping in quickly to say that I’m so thankful for the friendship, encouragement, kind comments, and constructive criticism you all have offered me over the past few months! The blogging experience has been full of surprises for me, and the network of people that regularly read and comment and engage in conversation with me is simply amazing. If I think about it too much, my brain starts to hurt. With a good kind of pain.

Today is going to be a whirlwind of fun and frolicking: I’m cutting out of work early today, and will soon be making a massive grocery store trip with Cassia to get all the supplies for our cooking class tonight. Mr. Dominick’s, beware! A 2-woman tornado will soon be touching ground at your store! And if there happens to be a cheese-sampling station, watch out–I stalk those things. It’s my version of smoking behind the barn.

With our groceries (and skillets and knives and Dutch ovens and microplane) loaded into Cassia’s car, we’ll be heading to Traci’s house, where our mission is to cook and photograph the Roasted Red Pepper soup and Fruit Pizza components (to be assembled later) before everyone arrives at 6:30 pm.

Here’s a peak at our practice run from last Saturday–Cassia is about to put together the Fruit Pizza.

Isn’t it beautiful?

So let’s be honest–the Fruit Pizza gets a little ugly once the red syrup goes on.

But as long as it’s delicious, who cares?

The Roasted Red Pepper soup is so creamy and satisfying . . .

It’s topped with lime cilantro sour cream and broiled corn. Oh joy. And I promise to photograph it again in a non-yellow bowl. Maybe even a non-chipped non-yellow bowl–but let’s not go hog-wild here, folks.

Part of the process we’ll be teaching people tonight is how to beat up a chicken.

But this chicken was really asking for it, so it’s okay. See all those bruises? They’re an intrinsic part of the roasting process.

Just kidding! It’s an olive tapenade, rubbed under the skin. Hideous, but oh-so-good. I’ll have to find a photogenic way to present it when I officially share the recipe with all y’all. Because as it is, looking at that picture is actually subtracting from my hunger quotient.

Oooh, a new weight-loss technique! Whenever you get hungry, just look at that ugly olive chicken picture and you’ll never feel like eating again. Hunh. I stand to make millions.

Anyway, once we get to Traci’s, we should probably lay out groupings of ingredients and the implements needed for each dish in advance so that I’m not scavenging in the fridge for a sprig of rosemary at the last minute while everyone looks down at my crouched and contorted form, doing earnest battle with the crisper drawer with one hand and tugging at the back of my jeans so that they remain appropriately hitched up with the other. It’s these new cuts of jeans, people! Sometimes they don’t stay up all by themselves! Does anyone else have this problem? Bueller?

Knives and cutting boards will be laid out, snack food and drinks both available and out of the way, recipe packets ready to be handed to each lady–we are going to be ready.

I can’t wait to create this creamy polenta . . .

Okay, I’m hungry again.

Hi Cassia! Can’t wait to see you in a couple hours! And thanks for doing so many dishes at my house! Maybe you should come over more often.

Anyway, friends, I just want to add that I wouldn’t be teaching this class if it weren’t for this blog that chronicles my cooking adventures . . . and I wouldn’t be writing this blog if it weren’t for your presence, support, and kindness. So–thank you! To each and every one of you–my silent readers and my regular commenters and my sporadic commenters and that weird person who ended up on my blog after googling “wrestling mud twinks.”

To that weird person: I hope you enjoyed the pictures of my mother wrestling a pig in the mud–and I also hope you find whatever it is you’re truly looking for.

I wish you all were here in Chicago for our shindig this evening–and if you decide to magically travel through time and space, appearing on Traci’s doorstep in a whirlwind of pink and purple sparks, I promise to feed you delectable treats and roasted chickens up the wazoo.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend–and Monday the first cooking class recipe (the Shredded Brussel Sprouts) will be up and running!

An art show, the creative impulse, and why I blog

Almost exactly two weeks ago, my husband and I had the privilege of going to an art show opening at Autumn Space, a gallery on Irving Park. The artist was Makoto Fujimura.

Makoto was commissioned to illuminate the four gospels in celebration of the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible (1611-2011).

He spoke about his art, and the inspiration he gathered from the famous words “Jesus wept.”

Our church sponsors this art gallery and orchestrated the show. Musicians from our church (including yours truly) provided background music.

That bass player–wow.

I ran around snapping pictures, and a professional artist/photographer taught me a quick lesson about the zoom function on my flash.

Believe me–I needed that lesson! It’s challenging to photograph a space with such high ceilings, and such contrasts in light and shadow.

Here’s Brad talking to my husband–Brad manages the gallery and installed the pieces for this show the morning of. Way to go, man. Way to stay calm under pressure.

People mingled, snacked on cheese and salami and root beer, and gazed at the art thoughtfully.

And that brings me to this: I love that our church is so committed to the city and to the arts. We’re in the middle of a sermon series on creativity–how we are modeled after a Creator God, and meant to create. From the things we create throughout the day without even thinking–a meal, a thank you card, an email, a batch of cookies–to intentional art such as a painting or a song–it all happens because we are made in God’s image.

Creativity is at our core–not just Makoto’s core or Picasso’s core, but the essence of any and every human being.

I am so thankful for the past year and a half of my life. Since we moved from Delaware to Chicago and I made the switch from a stressful and all-consuming sales and management job to a low-key office job with absolutely no stress, I have had the energy and time to create again.

Hence, this blog.

Hence, my foray into the challenging art of photography.

Hence, making music with my friend Carrie.

Hence, songwriting with my husband.

Hence, experimenting in the kitchen.

Hence, teaching a cooking class (more about that soon).

I can’t believe how blessed I am. I have the calling–and privilege–to be a creative woman. A person who makes things, because I’m the daughter of a God who makes things.

“Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men.” (John 1: 3-4)

“For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him.” (Colossians 1:15-16)

“By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. He gathers the waters of the sea into jars; he puts the deep into storehouses. Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the people of the world revere him. For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.” (Psalm 33:6-8)

“Then God said ‘Let us create man in our own image, in our own likeness’ . . . so God created man in his own image . . . God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.” (Gen. 1:26, 27, 31)

What have you created lately? Was it a simple spaghetti sauce? A spanking clean house? A feeling of peace in your home? A fingerpainting project with your kids? A blog post? Whether what you made is large or small, take joy in your ability to create. It’s divine–literally.