You know that old saying you heard from your parents growing up, “One day when you have children of your own, you will understand.”  Well, they were right.

Sunday was my second Mother’s Day.  I have to say as far as this whole parenting thing goes, I have been blessed.  I was given the gift of a happy, healthy little boy, with ten fingers and ten ticklish little toes, whispy blonde hair that really needs to be trimmed but I just can’t seem to get him to sit still long enough, and a pot belly that he likes to point at proudly and announce, “Belly!”  He has an infectious little giggle, eyelashes I would kill for, dimples in both cheeks, and loads of personality.  The best part of my day is picking him up from daycare and having him run across the classroom like he’s never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

However, the aspects of parenthood that make me appreciate my mom the most are the days when I’m dog tired and I come from work to a house that hasn’t been cleaned in two weeks because I either haven’t had the time or the energy to do it.  Those days when Little Tot is cranky or tired or cutting another tooth and nothing I do will stop his whining.  The days when I really don’t feel like worrying about what we are going to have for dinner, whether or not I have something ironed to wear to work, or whether he has a clean sippy cup for the next morning.

Sunday was my mom’s 31^st Mother’s Day.  My mother went back to school to become a nurse when I was about Little Tot’s age.  I remember her locking herself in our back bedroom to study.  I remember seeing the light of the desk lamp shining under the door.  When she graduated she worked the night shift until sometime when I was in grade school.  I remember her working 12-hour shifts and me having to play quietly during the day so she could sleep.

 

 

But I also remember her rocking me to sleep at night.  I remember her reading me bedtime stories.  She had me in church every Sunday and dinner was always on the table by the time my Dad came home from work.  I remember watching Saturday morning cartoons while she cleaned the house.  And I don’t remember this – but I am told once I pitched a huge hissy fit in front of a department store because I swore we left my pretend friend inside and he couldn’t get out.  I cried until my mother went back to the store and opened the swinging glass door to the front entrance for some invisible person.

Looking back now, I realize there were days when she felt just as dog-tired as I do now.  And she probably missed those days when it was someone else’s responsibility to take care of everything.   And I feel bad for those times I stole a pair of her earrings, wore them to school, and then lost them.  Or the time I tried to iron my hair and accidentally burned the ottoman in the living room.  And all those times I smarted off to her as a teenager because I thought she and my dad never let me do anything fun.

My mom is a tiny little whisp of a thing.  She’s shy and would much rather blend in to the background than be the center of attention.  However, she has worked as a kick ass labor and delivery nurse for almost 30 years.  She has delivered probably ¾ of the population in my hometown and all her patients just love her.  She’s shy, but she thinks nothing of standing in front of a group of expecting parents to teach a childbirth class.  She’s listened to me cry over every boy that broke my heart, sat next to my Dad as he underwent chemotherapy, and told me to push when it was time for me to give birth.  I don’t think she has any idea how strong of a person she really is.

So I’m going to stop now because I’m crying and if my mom is reading this then she is probably crying too.  That’s another thing about my mom – the woman will cry at the drop of a hat.

 

 

This past weekend my parents came down to visit.  They say they are coming to see us, but it didn’t take The Husband and me long to figure out that once LittleTot arrived, they are really coming to see him.  I am reminded of a phone conversation I had with my mother shortly after Little Tot was born, that I have yet to let her forget.

Mom: “How is my baby doing?”

Me, after a short pause: “Well, I’m doing fine but I gather you aren’t talking about me, even though technically I am your baby.”

Since I have still been able to buy fresh local strawberries (thank God for a mild winter), I thought strawberry shortcakes with baking powder biscuits would be a nice treat.  Only these biscuits have a different spin – it took my regular biscuit recipe and swirled them with cinnamon and sugar.  The cinnamon and strawberries pair really well together.  Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

During the week, The Husband and I try to maintain a pretty healthy diet and get to the gym regularly.  When you run a food blog and like to eat as much as we do, you kinda have to.  But come Friday night, all bets are off.  We’re usually craving something fried or something sweet.

Around our house, chocolate is king and cookies or brownies take top honors.  I have noticed when it comes to brownies, there are two schools of thought – cakey or chewy. I am a chewy girl all the way. When a brownie has that glossy, crackly top, I just can’t resist.

I made these recently have since dubbed it my official go-to recipe.  It’s full of chocolate flavor with just the right amount of chewiness.  And oh my gosh, just look at that crackly top . . .

 

 

 

 

Ever wonder why Americans celebrate Cinco de Mayo?

Contrary to popular belief, Cinco de Mayo does not mark the Mexican Day of Independence.  The real Mexican Independence Day actually falls in mid-September.  No, Cinco de Mayo commemorates the 1862 battle in Puebla when a small, outnumbered Mexican army defeated the French, a turning point in Mexico’s struggle for independence.  To most Mexicans actually living in Mexico, Cinco de Mayo is just another day.

Basically, it would be like Mexicans throwing this huge celebration on October 7.  Do you even know what happened on October 7?  It was the day the Americans won the Battle of Saratoga in 1777, considered to be by many the turning point of the Revolutionary War (my history buff Dad will be so proud of that little history lesson I just gave).  While winning that battle was important to our independence, how many of you break out the Bud, throw some burgers on the grill and throw down on that day?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.  So again, why do we celebrate Cinco de Mayo?

One theory is that Mexican immigrants adopted the holiday in the 1960s as a way to promote ethnic pride.  However, most believe it’s just a holiday to sell Mexican beer to Americans looking for an excuse to party.

Well, that’s good enough for me.

This recipe doubles your pleasure by combining two of America’s most beloved Mexican beverages – Corona and tequila.  It tastes just like a margarita.  Combine this with some fresh salsa, homemade guacamole, or in our case we’ll be making fish tacos, and you have a righteous way to celebrate the Mexican version of the Battle of Saratoga.

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

The act of canning and preserving food in jars – or “putting up” as I have heard some people call it – has become a lost art. I’ve heard stories from both my own grandmother and The Husband’s grandmother about putting up homegrown fruits and vegetables from their gardens. All the women would gather at someone’s house and get to work peeling, dicing, stewing, washing jars, and processing the finished products. They turned it into a social event.

Back then people had to preserve their own food. There was no 24-hour big box store selling canned green beans for $.88. There was no frozen foods section at the local general store. You either found a way to preserve the bounty of your harvest or do without come winter.

Preserving your own food has become a dying art because there is no need for it anymore. I can walk into my grocery store and buy a ripe tomato flown in from Florida in December (although it won’t taste nearly as good as a tomato from Smith County, MS, in June). Until recently, I would have never considered canning my own food for that exact reason. I have two major grocery stores within 1.5 miles of my house. The aisles of both stores are lined with rows and rows of food in metal cans decorated with colorful paper wrappers.

After the “pink slime” story broke a few months ago, I became a lot more curious about commercial-grade preservatives and what exactly is in my food. After a little research, I’ve concluded that just about EVERYTHING bought from a store has been treated with something to extend its shelf life. I know the FDA says its fine, but is it really?

Some store-bought jams and jellys contain subpar fruit, artificial dyes, fillers (Like turnips! Yes, turnips!), and artificial preservatives. Buying organic is one route. But have you priced organic lately? I’m a mama that buys store brand whenever she can and a toddler that has recently discovered the goodness that is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I cannot afford a $10 jar of spreadable fruit.

 

 This is what’s in my jar of raspberry preserves.  

And yes, that is a blob of peanut butter and jelly on the label.

 

One advantage is the quality and freshness of the fruit. I used Mississippi strawberries for my jam. They were grown 45 minutes away and picked the day before I purchased them. The only way they could have gotten any fresher is if I had grown them in my backyard and picked them myself.

Finally, I knew exactly what went into my jam – strawberries, sugar, lemon juice, and pectin. Pectin is a soluble fiber used as a thickening agent. It occurs naturally in fruits and vegetables, but some produce contains more pectin that others. Strawberries do not contain a lot of pectin, which is why many recipes will call for the addition of a commercial version – either liquid or powder. There are some recipes out there that do not use the pectin, but I’ll be honest. The jam you see here is not my first batch. I tried a few other recipes without pectin and did not have much luck. I’ll be spooning the non-pectin jars over my ice cream this summer.

 

 

This is my first successful batch of homemade jam. It was not hard and I did not need any expensive special equipment. I purchased this utensil kit for $7 in addition to a case of 12 oz. jars with lids for $12.

 

 

As long as you are processing foods with high acid –such as jams & jellies, tomatoes, and pickles – you can process your jars in a large stockpot. Known as water bath canning, the acid combined with the high temperature of the boiling water, is enough to kill any bacteria in the sealed jar. Everything else – vegetables, meat, and yes even homemade salsa – requires a pressure cooker. Low acid foods must be cooked at a higher temperature – higher than what can be achieved over a stove – to kill the bacteria.

The recipe below is for a small batch, meaning it only made two 12 oz. jars. Now that I have a basic recipe nailed down, I’m looking forward to making several other flavor combinations – strawberry rhubarb, strawberry basil, strawberry-balsamic. The strawberry season in Mississippi is coming to a close, so I purchased an entire flat at the farmers’ market and froze what I wasn’t going to use for later.

Believe me when I tell you, when you pop open a jar and take that first taste of real homemade jam made with fresh strawberries, the flavor is like nothing you can buy in a store.

Want more information on canning your own food? Check out my Pinterest board on canning and preserving for some great tutorials I found. Since I’m a novice, any experts out there please feel free to leave comments below.