creamy corn and veggie soup

In our home, soup is a year-round go-to.  I will unashamedly admit to simmering a pot of soup in the middle of July, and as soon as fall hits, my soup making really kicks into high gear. Three pots a week is not uncommon, and here's why.

Soup is the perfect way to load up on the veggies.  For the life of me,  I cannot get my three year old to like raw red peppers.  Dice 'em up, throw 'em in some soup, and she's on board.  Amen.

Most soups fall into the "chop and drop" category.  This means I can plop my children on the counter, and they're content to sample raw potatoes and gnaw on a onion (strange, but true) while I get chopping.  The measuring is minimal which means I don't have to think much.  Thank goodness.

Soup recipes are so easy to double (and even triple if only I had a pot big enough), and most recipes freeze well too.  This means an easy dinner down the road, and that makes mama happy. Win for everyone.

I pack four lunches a day, and one could argue that soup is almost always better the next day.  This means lunch packing just became super yummy and super simple.  Hallelujah.

Stephen posted this Creamy Corn and Veggie Soup last week on our Instagram account, @bakeitlikebecker (are you a follower?!?!).  There were requests for some recipes, and I'm happy to share this veggie-packed goodness. (Never fear, there's bacon and cream, too.)

Creamy Corn and Veggie Soup

• 2 TB extra virgin olive oil

• 3-4 slices of bacon, chopped

• 1 onion, chopped

• 2 cloves of garlic, minced

• 1 red pepper

• 10 ounce bag of frozen corn

• 2 small zucchinis

• About a pound of potatoes (This time I used russet, but I have used red potatoes in the past.)

• 1 bay leaf

• 1 tsp. paprika

• 1 tsp. chili powder

• Salt and pepper

• 2 TB flour

• 4 cups chicken stock

• 1 cup milk

• 1 cup cream (I admit I used half and half this time because it's all I had. Still yummy, but we all know cream would have been better.

Heat the olive oil in a medium pot over medium-high heat. 

Add the bacon and cook until it is close to crispy. 

Toss in the onion, garlic, and pepper and cook until those soften up.

Add the corn, zucchini, potatoes, bay leaf, paprika, chili powder and some S&P. Give it a good stir and let it cook for about five minutes.

Sprinkle the flour into the pot, stir, and cook for about a minute.

Slowly add the broth, milk, and cream. Let the soup simmer for about 10 minutes or until the potatoes are tender.

Happy Soup Season!

the trenches of writing workshop

Earlier this year, I co-taught in Mrs. Ary’s room and gathered 28 sixth graders onto the carpet for a mini-lesson about how authors gather ideas in order to find a story that matters.

There is this terrifying moment as a teacher when you wrap up the mini-lesson and are about to send your students off to actually try what you’ve just taught. Oh, how I wish one of them would just shout out,

“We are ready, Mrs. Becker! You’ve presented this information so clearly, and I’ve been so engaged for the past fifteen minutes, not at all distracted by the smelly classmates I’m smooshed up against on this tiny carpet. I totally understand what I am to do independently, and I can’t wait to get started!”

Instead, I get 3 smiles, 1 head nod and a handful of kids who are already standing up.

I’ll take it.

Let’s go write.

The assignment was to brainstorm a list of seven story titles that tell your life. These could be life altering days or seemingly insignificant moments that have somehow been permanently planted in your memory. What seven stories best reflect who you are today?

I had never taught this lesson before, and although my heart knew it had potential to be awesome, I’ve been teaching long enough to know that sometimes the lesson you’re most excited about has to flop two or three times before you get it right.

Unfortunately, I had to skip out halfway through independent writing time to get to a meeting, so I wasn’t able to see the final lists or hear the sharing session. When I got back to my office that afternoon, my table was filled with post-it notes. Each student had written down his or her favorite or most significant story title and left it for me to see.

I wasn’t sure if sixth graders would be able to define who they were in story titles. I didn’t know if they’d be willing to get past their day at King’s Island or a play-by-play of their tenth birthday party. I really wondered if they’d be brave enough to tell the painful stories.

I sat at my table, reading though post it notes feeling so proud of these writers who took me up on this challenging assignment. It was a glorious moment that the teacher in me will hold onto for awhile. And right in the midst of my tender-teacher moment, Mrs. Ary popped her head in my office to jolt me back to reality.

“Ok, so now what? How do we get them to actually write those stories?” she asked.

I laughed. “We enter the trenches of writing workshop.”

apple chips

We're all a bit sad when the pool closes for the summer and the flip flops get thrown to the back of the closet, but come mid-September, I think we can all agree, it is a happy day when fall officially takes over.

But you've got to grab it up because that pumpkin, apple, boots-and-scarves glory is always gone too quickly.  I for one am wasting no time jumping into the season.  The kitchen has been calling out for fall food, and I am happily obliging to its request.

Let's start simply.  This is one I can easily manage every weekend, maybe even a weeknight if I'm feeling really crazy. 

Apple chips. 

3 ingredients. 

Minimal hands on time. 

Cinnamon-apple smell filling the house.

Toddler approved. 

Total win. 

Warning: there is one minor downside to these beauties.  (Aw, rats.) You will have the greatest success if you slice the apples with a mandoline.  (Seriously?)  It's true.  This doesn't mean you cannot use a knife, but the thinner the slice, the better the crisp and crunch of the chip.

I have seen mandolines run upward of $200. Yikes.  We bought ours from HSN for $20 (and Amazon has many options for all sorts of kitchen tool budgets), and it has been totally worth it, if for nothing else than these apple chips.  We also use it for onions, potatoes, cucumbers, etc. because there is something oh-so-satisfying about perfectly uniformed slices of fruits and vegetables.  It's something to consider.

Ingredients:

• 2 apples (I've used all kinds and have never been disappointed. I lean toward tart, such as Granny Smith or Braeburn)

• 2 TB brown sugar

• 1 TB cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 225 degrees.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  And yes, you really do need the parchment paper.  Learn from my mistakes.

Slice the apples as thinly and uniformly as possible.

Mix the cinnamon and brown sugar together, and dip each apple slice into the cinnamon/sugar mixture.

Spread the apples on the parchment paper, and cook for 1 hour.

Flip the chips and cook for another hour.

Let them cool for about 15 minutes.  They will crisp up even more as they cool.

You are welcome.

saturday morning

Uptown Oxford on a Saturday morning is my favorite time of the week.

Oxford is a small town in the middle of nowhere, but it oozes with small town college charm and has created a perfect uptown for bringing the community together.

I love the bumpin’ farmers’ market that sells everything from local fruits, vegetables, and meats to breakfast sandwiches, smoothies, fresh cut flowers and our personal favorite, goat cheese lemon puffs. 

I love the certainty of seeing someone I know and the freedom to chat for as long as I’d like because even the little darlings can stay happily occupied when we’re uptown.

I love the surprise of what festival or special event we just might find on any given weekend - yoga in the park, car shows, local bands, Taste of Oxford, you just never know. 

I love all the children running through the fountains.

Prepared parents come with bathing suits, but most of the time you’ll see fully clothed toddlers screaming with glee as they're splashed in the face.

I love piling the kids into the stroller and just walking around town. Although truth be told, Charlotte is feeling a little too grown up for the stroller these days, so we are usually just pushing Andrew and the Raggedy Ann doll.

I love that we can wander uptown with no certain plans for the day and somehow plans will just evolve as we bump into friends or see yummy looking food that is begging to be grilled or mixed with sugar and baked in a pie. 

When the day comes that we no longer live in Oxford, my heart will deeply miss uptown Saturday mornings with my family.

I will also miss those goat cheese lemon puffs, so I should probably eat two today. 

landominium life

Six years ago, Stephen and I bought out first house. Correction: our first (and oh Lord, let it be our only) landominium.Yes, that is a real thing…supposedly. It differs from the more well-known condominium in that we actually own both the home and the land on which the home is built. Think single-story retirement community, not modern high-rise looking over the city. We don’t own the land around it – that belongs to the homeowners’ association – just the land on which our home is built. The only benefit we’ve concluded is that we have the freedom to install a basement should we so choose.

Start digging, Stephen.

After living the apartment life for a number of years, Stephen and I were thrilled with our new, spacious abode. I remember sitting in our living room soon after we’d moved in listing all the “amenities” I loved about this new home. Vaulted ceilings. Walk-in closets. A washer and dryer! 2 bathrooms. White kitchen. Fireplace. Walk-in pantry. Beautifully painted walls. Cars right outside our front door rather than 3 flights down and across the parking lot. Kitchen big enough for a full out Zumba class (and there have been many of those!).

At the end of my list, I foolishly declared, “This house is perfect. I could raise four kids here!” (And no, this is not a baby announcement.)

I still adore this home and all those items on my original list. It really is a lovely little place, and at this very moment, the laminate kitchen flooring is being replaced with gorgeous tile, making me love it even more. We have hosted countless parties in this tiny place, joyfully cramming 15 people around card tables. We have moved the couches into the kitchen to make room for a dozen grad students to spread out sleeping bags for a Saved By the Bell marathon sleepover. Our second bedroom housed an international student for a semester and has also welcomed many Air BnB guests for overnight stays. Three years ago that same room was turned into a nursery, preparing this home for our growing family. We are not short on precious memories in this home.

However, since baby #2 arrived last year, we have reached, no, exceeded maximum capacity, and I fear we could burst out of this place at any moment. All too often I feel the walls of this tiny home falling in on me, and I imagine myself buried under a pile of blocks, random puzzle pieces, boxes of baby clothes, cookbooks and shoes. Why do we have so many shoes? Every so often, this claustrophobic feeling will display itself in the form of an outburst. Stephen is wise enough to sense the tone of my tirade, and if I’m on the verge of hysteria, he’ll just listen, hug me, and retreat back to our bedroom to start cleaning up his piles of clothes, most likely just looking for any excuse to get away from the crazy lady on a warpath regarding where to fit all the Christmas wrapping paper. If he senses even the slightest bit of humor in my meltdown, he’ll remind me of that fateful statement.

“You still think we can raise four kids in this house?The second bedroom can definitely fit double bunk beds.”

Oh, how I rue the day.

But even in the midst of my ranting and raving, God is gently reminding me of His truth. Lord willing, there will come a day when we don’t live in this landominium. We will have a garage for storing Christmas decorations, a yard for enjoying summer nights, and perhaps even a basement for stashing baby items so my parents can stop driving Jump-a-roos and baby swings baby and forth from Chicago.

But I have a feeling that when that day comes, I will look around that house, exhausted by all the rooms to clean and longing for the simple days of landominum life. I will miss the extra sleep I got on snowy mornings because someone shoveled my walkway, and I’ll wish I could still plug my vacuum cleaner into one outlet and clean the entire house.

Reality check.

As I type this, my children are still sleeping, the house is quiet, and a beautiful sunrise is creeping up out my window while I drink hot coffee from a cute green mug.

In this moment, it is easy to laugh about the fact that my son’s pack ‘n play was set up in the bathroom for the first 9 months of his life or that visting family has to stay in a hotel because we have no room to host them.

In this moment, I am amused by the fact that we have boxes of babies clothes stored in a friend’s basement while bikes and a baby pool are in another friend’s garage.

In this moment, I can make jokes about how Stephen is addicted to Amazon Subscribe and Save which has resulted in no less than 28 rolls of paper towels stashed in every nook of the house.

In this moment, I can easily be thankful God has given me a good sense of humor about it all.

But there are many days I am a hot mess. I see no humor in the situation, only chaos. My frustration is real, my complaining is ugly, and I am in desperate need of a good dose of God’s truth.

The truth is that none of this is mine anyways. My inner toddler wants to scream mine, mine, mine, and cry out for more, more, more. God is so patient with me. Gently reminding me that I cannot insist on ownership when it comes to stuff, but I can freely claim mine, all mine, when it comes to my Jesus.

He is all mine, and he loves me enough to discourage a death grip on what can never satisfy. I know this, but many days I forget and let the scrunched up chaos get the best of me.

It might just be one of those lessons I have to keep learning over and over.