butternut squash soup

I know you're all going as fall crazy as I am, so it is with great pleasure that I add to your fall frenzy by bringing this pot of goodness into your lives. Our home will see a giant pot of this soup three to four times every fall. And when I say three to four, I really mean six to seven. I've already made it twice.

It makes my list of top-three-most-requested-recipes from all the happy people I feed it to. I make it for casual weeknight gatherings, bumping fall festivals, Thanksgiving dinner, and if you have a baby or a bad day anywhere between September and December, I will bring you this soup.

Unlike most butternut squash soups, this one stays chunky - no pureeing. In the end, your bowl doesn't look fancy or quite as photo friendly, but I have watched children and grown men plow through three bowls of this goodness.

You have to try it.

It's a recipe worthy memorizing, and with only six ingredients (plus salt) it can be a go-to for nights you are standing in the grocery store desperately coming up with a dinner plan. However, for the sake of complete honesty here, I will warn you in advance of this recipe's one and only downside. It needs to simmer for about an hour. You can get away with 45 minutes but really no less. So just be sure when you're standing in that grocery store, it is 4:00 pm and not 5:45 pm.

Feel free to do all your chopping the night before to cut down on the prep time.

The original recipes calls for 6 tablespoons of butter. I have never used that much. I have no problem dropping sticks of butter into my biscuits, pie crusts, and sugar cookies, but I just can't do it to my soup. Your call.

This recipe serves 4, but you'll probably want to double it.

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

• 4 cups butternut squash, diced into small squares (You can easily get 4 cups from one large squash, probably more. Adding more is perfectly acceptable.)

• 2 medium carrots, peeled and diced

• 1 medium onion, diced

• 1 large celery stalk, diced

• 6 cups vegetable broth (or chicken)

• Salt

Melt the butter in a soup pot.

Add the squash, carrots, onions, and celery. Stir them all up to help coat the veggies with butter.

Cook over medium-high heat, stirring often, for 8-10 minutes.

Add the broth and season with salt.

Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer, uncovered, for one hour.

I stay pretty simple with this soup, but I suppose some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano would make a nice finishing touch. Or better yet, grab a crusty loaf of bread before leaving that grocery store.

Happy fall!

And just in case you're in need of a yummy pile of fall for breakfast, here is the recipe for our favorite pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes!

doing our mom thing: tapas and sangria style

It's been over a year since Stephen started talking about the collaborative work he was doing with a university in Mallorca, a small island floating off the coast of Spain in the Mediterranean Sea. 

"Maybe they'll invite me to come, and we can all go to Spain," he casually mentioned.

I probably nodded, only half listening, with no expectations of such an outlandish thought coming to fruition. Stephen tends to casually mention vacations on a semi-regular basis, most of which are to destinations requiring four layovers and a six time zone adjustment. I've learned to smile, nod, and wait for the plan to collapse on its own.

I guess I figured if this university did invite him, I wouldn't have the guts to drag two toddlers along and would end up staying home. I never thought I'd actually go to Spain. Truthfully, I don't even remember agreeing to go. I think Stephen swept in during a frantic mama moment when I was just saying "Yeah, sure," to anything.

Even after the tickets were purchased, my enthusiasm remained minimal.

I didn't look at one travel book. I read nothing online. I didn't even get a pedicure. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with the hours I would be held captive in an airplane, forced to restrain a one-year-old boy whom the airline deemed a "lap child."

I suppose "thrashing, wailing, running down the aisle child" wouldn't fit on the ticket.

I'll spare you the details of the meltdowns and tears, mostly from me, and just say I wouldn't wish eleven hours on three flights with a one-year-old on my worst enemy. But indeed, we're here. We made it, and whenever I remember I have to do it again in less than a week, I drink another glass of sangria and consider the likelihood of a local school needing an English-speaking literacy coach. Might be worth investigating.

*****

Whenever I am fortunate enough to find myself on the other side of the world, I am smacked in the face by my own smallness. Our first week in Mallorca was spent just blocks from the beach, our toes washed over by the Mediterranean Sea seven days in a row. The power of salt water far as my eyes can see reminds me that my life is such a speck on this great earth.

I need to feel like a grain of sand every so often.

Somehow the day in and day out of routine life leaves me drowning in myself - my town, my neighborhood, my home, my head, my comfort. I start thinking I'm it.  But watching a small, unfamiliar part of the world carry on its life brings me down to size.

On this trip, my eyes have been drawn to moms. There is something so grounding about seeing moms on the other side of the world doing their mom thing, especially because it looks so much like my mom thing.

We spent the morning walking around a small town filled with narrow streets, cute stores, and cafés galore. I spotted a mom walking the perimeter of a café, bouncing her fussy baby and pointing out each passing car. 

How many mothers have missed meals because we were entertaining a child who had no interest in sitting down for a leisurely lunch?

The other night we piled our two darlings into car seats that followed us nearly 5,000 miles across the Atlantic and into the backseat of a Mercedes Benz. This is what happens when the hubby is in charge of booking the rental car. We ventured into Palma, the capital city with just the right mix of urban flare, European charm, and historical beauty, including a massive 13th century Gothic cathedral overlooking the harbor. 

With the help of Google Maps, we wound our way through busy city streets and narrow cobblestone alleys to find a tapas restaurant. There was an outdoor seating area right in the midst of a busy square - two requirements when traveling with children. The meal was fantastic. Round one - quiche, meatballs, and a meaty, cheesy hot baguette. Round two - another meaty, cheesy hot baguette, bacon wrapped dates, mushrooms, and chorizo.

Our children's restaurant etiquette maxed out about the same time they devoured the last two bacon wrapped dates. Stephen hung back to pay the check, and I swept the darlings out before Andrew crawled under the table next to us, again. There was another family with three young children running circles in the plaza. Charlotte and Andrew quickly  joined, and I exchanged smiles with their mom as she sat on a bench, undoubtedly just as relieved as me for a few moments of easy entertainment - children squealing with delight, chasing one another with no hope of actually catching someone. 

It was precious. Too precious to last more than a moment. One of the girls fell, crying out in pain loud enough to catch the attention of nearby diners. She ran to her mom who responded with compassion and pulled a Band-Aid from her purse. But I could read her mom sigh. "Calm yourself. It's only a small scratch, and you're interrupting dinner for all of these people." 

How many mothers have pulled Band-Aids from our purses, comforting a screaming child while really thinking, "Oh good grief. Toughen up and quiet down."

We ended our night at a park right in the middle of the city. It was nearing 9:00, but you'd never know by the masses of children still running wild. I stood next to our stroller watching Charlotte climb and Andrew spin a steering wheel. On the bench next to me was a young mom, cradling her newborn who was swaddled tightly and still wrinkly.  The mom was pretty, wearing a black dress with small white polka dots and cinched around the waist. Her shoulder length hair was strawberry blond, and her bright red lipstick told me she surely needed a night out of the house. I couldn't help but wonder if earlier today she was losing her mind.  Did she pass the child off to dad, announce that tonight they were getting out of the house, and go take her first shower in days, perhaps weeks? I bet she actually dried her hair before pulling out that favorite lipstick with no care for where they actually went tonight.

And here she was, on a park bench, struggling to get her little one to nurse. She spoke softly in a language I didn't understand, perhaps German. I decided it couldn't be her first child; new moms aren't confident enough to nurse a newborn in a park (well, maybe in Europe they are). Sure enough, moments later, a toddler came running to her leg, followed by dad, who slipped his arm around mom, peeking down at the baby.

How many mothers have thrown on a cute dress and sassy lipstick just to sit on a park bench simply because we had to get out of that house?

I love moms. 

We're all just doing our mom thing, even here, on this tiny island I'd never heard of until a year ago. In the midst of unfamiliar, surrounded by street signs I can't read, outlets I can't use, and people eating ham and cheese sandwiches at ten in the morning, I can still see the familiarity of motherhood.

I don't understand a word you're saying to your child, but I know your purse is filled with snacks and Band-Aides.

I can't begin to guess what you make your child for lunch each day, but I know you'd love to sit in a restaurant and enjoy your entire meal without a child to entertain.

I don't know what television shows play on repeat in your house, but I know you find yourself humming cartoon theme songs while washing dishes.

I don't know the books you read each night, but I know you sneak in to watch your child sleep even when you're exhausted. 

I don't know when your child will start preschool in this country, but I know you want your child to grow to be gracious, thankful, and kind, but you're also worried what an unkind world might throw their way.

I know there are days you love doing your mom thing and days you feel like a monkey could be doing a better job than you. 

I know because I feel it - in my town, my neighborhood, my house on the other side of the world. I'm just doing my mom thing, too. But maybe I need more tapas and sangria to get me through the day.

present over perfect birthday giveaway

44 & Oxford is celebrating its first birthday this week!  What a perfect time for our first giveaway! 

Last week, this much-anticipated book arrived in my mailbox; I've been gobbling it up. Good thing I ordered two copies - one for me and one for you. I have a massive girl crush on the author, Shauna Niequist, and when asked the "who would you have dinner with, dead or alive" question, Jesus, John Lennon, and Shauna Niequist top the list. Check out all things Present Over Perfect right here.

Today through Thursday, August 18, you can enter below to win the following prize package.

• Hardback copy of Present Over Perfect

• Present Over Perfect Devotional Journal Download

• eBook copies of Cold Tangerines, Bittersweet, Bread & Wine, Savor

Connect with 44 & Oxford through any of the outlets below.  Click on the arrows for more information on how to enter.

I will announce the winner this Friday, August 19!

***This giveaway is now over.***

Rafflecopter Giveaway

Happy Birthday 44 & Oxford!  

the best berry crisp and a birthday giveaway

At this very moment last year I was scrambling to upload pictures on image hosting sites, embed links into codes, and live chatting with GoDaddy Help Center nearly every night. I kept saying words like widget and favicon like I knew what I was talking about. The techy components of creating 44 & Oxford were killing me; my pout face was in high gear, and I quit no less than a dozen times. All I really wanted was a pretty place to write; I didn't realize I was signing my life away to HTML codes and Java Script gadgets. (For the record, I still don't know what I'm talking about.)

All glory to God, each glitch was worked through, I found my pretty place to write, and 44 & Oxford is celebrating its 1st birthday this month! I said in my manifesto that it is my goal to encourage, amuse, and challenge readers. I hope I have succeeded. I am grateful for the dear people who have read, commented, and contacted me. How I wish I could have you all over for dinner and drinks to celebrate. Or brunch. I love brunch.

But instead we'll celebrate world-wide-web style with a good recipe and a birthday giveaway. But you know I can't get to the recipe without a story. Every good recipe has a story.

*****

For years people kept talking to me about this book, Bread & Wine. I had three different friends, from three different circles, contact me to say they kept thinking of me while reading this book. When it finally ended up in my hands, Christmas 2014, I understood why. I was reading my life, thoughts I had never put into words but connected with so deeply.

he author, Shauna Niequist, loves food and loves writing. Wait. I love food and writing. She believes the best moments of life happen around a table. Wait. I believe the best moments of life happen around a table. She feels God's presence when she opens her table, taking time to slow down and be with others. You can imagine how I feel about that.

This book affirmed passions I'd considered secondary. I'm not a chef, and I'm certainly not a Pinterest worthy party thrower; I haven't dedicated my life to the art of entertaining, and you will never see my tablescape on the front of a magazine. How ridiculous to be passionate about having friends over for dinner, yet I've always been keenly aware of how the junk of life filters out and the goodness of God fills my soul when good food, good wine, and good people gather at our table. I guess I didn't know other people felt the same.

Am I being overly dramatic when I say this book redirected my life, challenging me to grab onto my love for food and just run with it? To embrace my love of fancy dinners, casuals brunches, pizzas in the family room, too many cooks in the kitchen, crowded dining room tables, second bottles of wine, and guests that stay too long? 

Days after I finished Bread & Wine, I declared my intent to cook through all 29 recipes in 2015. I got started right away and made this berry crisp, the first recipe in the book, for our New Year's Day breakfast. Since then, I have made it for reunions, a slumber party, a retirement brunch, casual Tuesday morning pancake dates, beach vacations, and just last weekend I brought it to a new mama.

I could eat this every day.

Berry crisp is often considered dessert, and I would never say no to warm berries with vanilla ice cream oozing down and around every nook and cranny. But if you replace that ice cream with a scoop of plain Greek yogurt, you can feel virtuous about eating this for breakfast, every day.

Don't let the almond flour intimidate you; it adds such great flour that all-purpose flour lacks. The olive oil instead of butter is genius, and the maple syrup gives the perfect subtle sweetness.  Fresh or frozen berries work equally well, so swap in any berries (or apples) and eat this twelve months a year.

The Best Berry Crisp from Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist

• 4 cups berries of your choice

 Crisp Topping:

• 1 cup old-fashioned oats

• 1/2 cup raw, unsalted pecans, halved of chopped

• 1/2 cup almond meal

• 1/4 cup maple syrup

• 1/4 cup olive oil

• 1/2 tsp. salt

Preheat over to 350° F.

Mix the ingredients for the crisp topping.

Pour the berries in an 8x8 pan (or something similar in volume), and layer the crisp topping over it.

Bake 35-40 minutes, maybe a bit longer if you're using frozen berries.

Serves 4-6 (Less if I'm eating it.)

And now...

What a lovely coincidence that Shauna's new book, Present Over Perfect was released just yesterday, perfect timing for 44 & Oxford's first giveaway! She probably timed it that way.

Starting next Monday, August 15-Thursday, August 18, you can enter to win the following prize package:

• Hardback copy of Present Over Perfect

• Present Over Perfect Devotional Journal Download

• eBook copies of Cold Tangerines, Bittersweet, Bread & Wine, Savor

More details about how to enter will be rolled out Monday!

don't look down

Just keep walking.  Just keep walking.  Baby steps.  Slowly.  Keep moving.  And whatever you do, don't look down

As is evident in a few recent posts, I am in a rather emotional and transitional season of life.

I have this vision of myself walking, one slow, shaky step at a time, along a narrow, windy, cliffside path - mountains towering on my left and a two thousand foot drop to my immediate right.  Holding my breath and forcing my eyes to look ahead, I carefully lower my body weight into each step before committing to the next forward movement.

No need to pity me. 

This is a cliff I've chosen, one I've expected and have even been looking forward to. No one has forced me here or dared me into an act of stupidity.  This isn't an example of uncontrollable life circumstances that have suddenly flipped my world upside down.  I am a willing participant. 

So far this journey has been alright.  I'm still pretty motivated and energized, but I can feel reality starting to creep in.  I have suddenly become very aware of the fact that this cliff could go on longer than expected and my composure is wearing thin.

This is life right now.

For months - maybe years - I've been eagerly awaiting the thrill of change, and oh boy, it has arrived. The well traveled, clearly marked trails have disappeared, the path has narrowed, and it is just me, the rocks, and a long way down.  

I have wanted to take a pause from a twelve-year career to stay home full time with my young children.  Check.

I have wanted to live in an actual house, not a landominium (and yes, that is a real word despite that red, squiggly line Microsoft Word insists upon) but an actual house with a yard, a garage, and enough rooms that my son's Pack-n-Play won't need to be set up in the bathroom. Check.

I have wanted Stephen home by five rather than commuting an hour plus each night. Check.

And it's happening. It's all happening - like right now, at the same time. And as thrilling as these changes are, this path is dangerously narrow, and I am very aware of the potential to plummet to an untimely insane asylum. In less poetic terms, I am very aware of the potential to freak out, scream the f-word, and start throwing everything we own into the trash. I could so easily be overwhelmed and scared, and rightly so. I've got a lot on my plate.

In my moments of greatest clarity (AKA - when the children are sleeping and the dishes are done),  I would also describe this terrifying, narrow edge as a sweet spot. There is a rush in knowing I cannot do this on my own. I know I will never make it past this cliff to the other side of this transition with even a shred of grace and dignity left if not for my Jesus. Oh, and I mean it. If left on my own, I would literally be a heap on the floor crying over every detail that turns into a unexpected bump.

Moving truck not in Oxford the day I scheduled it to be? Me. Floor. Tears.

Hot water heater not working? Me. Floor. Tears.

20-month-old not napping? Me. Floor. Tears.

Screen door on the new house breaks during move in day? Me. Floor. Tears.

You get the idea.

Oh, thank you Jesus for being a God of details. I believe you can move mountains, but so often I don't need mountains moved, I need details to fall into place. I need the moving truck in the right city. I need friends available on moving day. I need a babysitter on closing day. I need the screen door fixed so I can get some natural light into this new house. I need to find the damn peanut butter aisle in a new grocery store that was clearly designed by someone who has never shopped with children. I need energy to be productive in the evening. I need creativity to engage my children. I need a friend. I need a nap.

It's terrifying. It's exciting. It's exhausting. It's challenging. It's refining. It's revealing.

But I am determined to not look down, to not focus on the potential for failure. I'll keep moving along this sweet spot, even on the days it doesn't seem so sweet.

I want to love it. I want to be a woman who thrives on the adventure, the unknown, the possibilities that come with change. But today, I look forward to the other side, to a bit more breathing room to stop and take in the view.

Until I get there, I just can't look down.