It's the Bakers

 

  

It's the bakers.

 

I already knew it, had known it for quite some time. 

 

There was a school shooting in Texas a week ago. Correction: yet another school shooting, this one in Texas. More than 20 children, ending their school year, had their lives ended instead.

And it's the fault of the bakers.

I, like all human beings, was heartbroken by not just this latest school shooting, but that we'd done nothing, as a country, since the last one. And the one before that. And the one before that.

I turned on the news to hear Kellyanne Conway saying that people are in mourning, it isn't the time to talk about change. Ted Cruz skirted the issue with deflection, Greg Abbott used the tragedy as a media opportunity, and Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton wants to arm teachers.

All of this at a time when the Republican stacked supreme court indicated it will overturn women's right to choose, protected by Roe v. Wade. And Republican politicians everywhere are responding with their personal religious convictions, that they are pro-life, that they have a responsibility to protect the unborn, even at the cost of the life of the mother.

Pro-life? What about all of these children who have died in public schools? Continue to die in public schools? Screw the personal religious beliefs, the hell with the political posturing. If you're pro-life, save lives.

I'd had enough, and I posted this on social media:

 

There was a discussion started on my FB page. Most all of the comments were in line with my personal beliefs. But one was not. One woman, apparently from Texas, had something different to say.

 

I'm not going to quote her completely as I don't have her permission, but I'm going to characterize what she said. You can go to the Baking In A Tornado FB page and read the thread for the exact content. 

She stated that she knew her opinion would be unpopular, but asked me to just think about what she has to say. She started off with two over used arguments, that it is wrong to think that guns kill people, they don't, and that if the government tries to take peoples' guns away, criminals would certainly not surrender theirs, leaving only criminals with guns.

She went on to say that her governor (Abbott, of Texas) has a genius idea, to arm teachers. A teacher with a gun at least has the opportunity to try to protect herself and her students. She acknowledged that teachers don't want to kill a child (the Robb elementary school shooter was 18), but would either successfully defend her students or die a hero, in Texas or any other red state, anyway.

In conclusion, she said that she has pit bulls, and a .45. If someone breaks into her home, ignoring the dogs, she "will not ask them to sit down for coffee and cake until the police arrive," she'll shoot to kill. So arming teachers is a genius idea, and if you disagree, we should take guns away from presidential security details, jewelry stores, courtrooms.

There's a lot to unpack here. So much made me angry, mostly the disinformation. But a lot here gave me hope too. This woman was making her points. She was not angry, she was not insulting or disrespectful in any way, she had something to say and she took the time to say it.

My response: 

Thank you for your comments and for sharing your perspective.

 

First, your entire premise is just completely false. No one is talking about taking away all guns from law abiding citizens who have purchased them legally, that is not what those of us who want limitations, licensing, and background checks are saying.

 

Second, I think we ask enough of our teachers. What Texas is recommending is an unfair burden on them, they are not trained police officers and they didn't go into teaching to be both teachers an police officers. I think many talented teachers would leave the field they love.

 

Third, at the recent supermarket shooting in NY, a trained retired police officer was there, he shot the perpetrator more than once, but the guy was wearing Kevlar, so he did not die and killed the officer. The shooter yesterday was wearing a bullet prof vest too.

 

I firmly believe that NOT taking guns away from law abiding citizens, but reforming our laws and closing loopholes allowing weapons to be purchased other than in gun stores, in order to be as responsible as possible about who can have guns, and what guns, and Kevlar as well, is the only answer. Children's lives have to matter more than how we deal with gun ownership, under our current system (or lack thereof), they don't.

Her: 

"This absolutely makes sense," but she went on to say that she still believes teachers should be equipped with guns, or there should be security outside every school.

Me:
Although we have different viewpoints, I think we (you and I) are proof that there can be rational conversation and common sense solutions. If our politicians were willing and able to talk, just talk like we are, without misrepresenting what the other perspective is, if they were willing to admit that neither "side" will win or lose, but a common sense compromise can be reached and will actually protect our children, we'd all be better off.

Her:
"100%. It's all about the babies. All about the voiceless."

Some of the most important information she imparted was where she started: first, that she believes that we don't understand the concept that guns don't kill people, people do. Second, that we want the government to take all guns away from all people.

You cannot compromise, nor even negotiate, if there cannot first be clear understanding of both viewpoints. If we're going to bake together, we need to know, cookies or cake?

 

I know that it's a daunting task to rid each other of our misconceptions, and I know that has to happen, but not initially. Gun control, gun reform, initially starts on capitol hill. And everyone there already knows what the truth is, what each side of the issue does and doesn't believe.

And we'll never get anything accomplished, even if we agree on cake, if we each come to the table with a cake. We need to come with ingredients, because, (and I know I don't need to explain negotiating to you), we're not going to end up with my cake, or with yours.

 

But we can end up with cake.

Summer Citrus Cake

 

If two strangers on FB, with completely different frames of reference, viewpoints, and stances, can have a civil, respectful conversation, agree as to what the outcome needs to be, make concessions in some places and solidify our stance in others, politicians, supposedly professional negotiators, must be willing to come to the table.

Especially politicians who claim to be pro-life. If you're pro-life, get your ass to the table, discuss common sense gun control laws, and save lives.

It has been 23 years since 13 died at Columbine High School. 

 

Ten years since the 28 deaths at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

 

Four years since 17 died at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland.

There have been 27 school shootings this year. It's only May.

And you know what? A majority of Americans (over 80%), even Republicans, support expanded background checks, over 60% of Americans endorse an assault weapon ban.

 

Cake? Someone get me the tea and a ticket back to my home in Boston, because what's going on in our government is taxation without representation.

 

Politicians need to see the light. Ideally, politicians need to be the light. For now, I could live with them just taking a step towards the light. 

 

Because in the darkness, there are dead children. 

  

I remain convinced of this: 

 

When it comes to gun reform and the safety of our children, it's not the cake. It's not the recipe, it's not the ingredients. It's the bakers.

 

Summer Citrus Cake        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 box lemon cake mix

1 (.1 oz) packet limeade drink mix powder

1 box (3 oz) orange jello

4 eggs

1 cup water

1/2 cup oil

1/4 cup lime yogurt

1/2 tsp lemon zest

1/2 tsp lime zest

1/2 tsp orange zest

2/3 cup powdered sugar

2 TBSP orange juice, lime juice, or lemon juice

Directions:
*Grease and flour a bundt pan. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*In a large mixing bowl, mix together the cake mix, limeade powder, and jello powder. Add the eggs, water, oil, orange zest, lime yogurt, lime zest, and lemon zest, and beat for 2 minutes.

*Pour evenly into the bundt pan. Bake until the center springs back to the touch, 35 to 40 minutes. 

*Cool cake on the counter for 10 minutes, run a knife around the edges, remove from the pan, and cool completely.

*Whisk together the powdered sugar and citrus juice of your choice. Drizzle over the cooled cake.

Luckiest: Secret Subject Swap

 

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. Read through mine and at the bottom you’ll find links to all of today’s other Secret Subject participants.

 

 

My subject is: What is the luckiest thing that has ever happened to you?
It was submitted by: Rena of The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver.

Well, it is the month of St. Patrick's Day, isn't it? A month where we look for 4 leaf clovers and chase down that pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. My pot of gold looks a lot different from most, though.

 

I once won a trip for two to Hawaii. It's a bit of a convoluted story, but in the end, I won it. It was a raffle at a work Christmas party. My boss had actually won but you have to be there to get the prize and he had left, they picked again. When he found out, he was not happy. I did not care. I took my sister, and we went to Hawaii. Actually, the trip was to Honolulu, but after spending the free time there, we extended the trip on our own and went on to Maui. That was the luckiest thing that happened to me.

 

Until . . .

 

Hubs and I had moved to the Midwest shortly after getting married. We'd wanted children but it wasn't happening, so I went to a local doctor. He told us that we couldn't have children should go home and accept it. I called my Boston gynecologist, who told me to get to a teaching hospital, there are avenues to explore and possible options. Turns out the doctor who had been recommended to me here was affiliated with a Christian hospital and instead of responding to me medically, he had been practicing his religion on me. 

 

I went to the local medical school hospital. Just about this time they were bringing in a reproductive endocrinologist from another city to start a reproductive department there. This doctor performed all the right tests, got the information she needed, and outlined the options. We were shocked to find out my tubes were fused shut. She tried to open them surgically, but failed, she could only get one partially open. The only biological option was IVF, the place where Hubs and I had drawn the line.

Funny thing about lines, they blur when you've got your toes up against them. But IVF 20 plus years ago was different from now. It was over $10,000 per try and not covered by insurance. The success rate was a terrifying 15%. We went for it. First try had to be stopped due to growths on my ovaries, there was a waiting period before I was cleared to try again. I got pregnant on the next try. And miscarried. 

 

Emotionally fragile, and physically uncomfortable (I was allergic to one of my multiple daily shots) we decided to give it one more try. I did get pregnant, but was understandably nervous that this would end in disaster too. And I was both sick and having sharp pains. The doctor watched me closely, but one night at about the 3 month mark, in the middle of the night, I started to see blood. My panic was exacerbated by the fact that Hubs was out of town, and the local tornado sirens were blaring. I sat straight up in bed until morning and drove myself to the hospital, knowing I was having another miscarriage.

My doctor's partner did an ultrasound and sent me right to the surgical unit. Maud, my doctor, came out, told me that the viable pregnancy had an ectopic twin ironically growing in the end of the tube we'd opened. That tube, supposed to be the size of a hair, was the size of a sausage and had to come out now. Had it ruptured, I probably would have died. I looked at her and, with tears in my eyes, said (of the fetus still in my womb), "please, just save my baby." Maud turned to the patient who happened to be sitting next to me and explained that her egg retrieval would have to be put off for a few hours. The woman looked at me, then looked at Maud and, with tears in her eyes, said "please, just save her baby."

 

 

I was hospitalized and on narcotics when my husband's plane landed. The surgery had been rough and we didn't know if the trauma would result in a miscarriage of the other fetus, only time would tell. I wasn't just in pain, I was terrified about one and actively mourning the other. The next morning, a Sunday, Maud came into my hospital room holding her young daughter. "I know you're mourning," she told me as she turned her daughter towards me, "but I wanted to stop by on my way to church to remind you of what you still have."

Seven months later I brought my son home. It was the luckiest thing to ever happen to me.

Until . . .

I had frozen embryos we'd decided to take. Yet again, everything had to be abruptly stopped when the embryos weren't viable at transfer time. We made the difficult decision to try another cycle. One more. It ended in a pregnancy.

I was 10 weeks along when I'd gone back home for a visit. Hubs was back in the Midwest working, but I wanted my young son to spend some time with my family, swimming in the family pool and going to the beach. It was there where I woke up one morning cramping, in a pool of blood.

Maud called my Boston gynecologist who ordered an ultrasound. It felt like a death sentence, waiting for confirmation that I'd miscarried. Again. My sister, sitting by my side, asked the ultrasound tech what she was seeing. Techs aren't allowed to disseminate medical information, they can only report findings to a doctor. I'd been down this road before though, I knew what I was seeing and started to cry. "That flashing light," I told my sister, "is a heartbeat."

I was put on bed rest. I was bleeding out a blood clot and, once again, playing a waiting game to see if the fetus in my womb would stay or go.

Eight months later, my family was complete. And it was the luckiest thing to ever happen to me.

In this month of leprechauns and four leaf clovers, the pot at the end of the rainbow did not hold money for me. Luck was in the form of something way more valuable.

 

Mint Cheesecake Cups

 

I wish you leprechauns, and 4 leaf clovers, (and Mint Cheesecake Cups), and a rainbow, at the end of which you find whatever it is that makes you feel the luckiest.

 

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

Climaxed 

Part-time Working Hockey Mom

Mint Cheesecake Cups

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1/3 cup mint M&Ms

12 mint Oreo cookies

12 oz cream cheese, softened

2 TBSP sour cream

1/3 cup brown sugar

1/2 tsp mint extract

2 eggs

2 TBSP mullticolored nonpareils

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Place cupcake liners into the wells of a 12 well cupcake pan.

*Chop the mint M&Ms. Set aside.

*Gently run a knife around the inside edges of one of the Oreo wafers and separate so you have 2 chocolate cookie wafers, one plain and one with the mint filling. Place the halves without the filling into the bottom of the cupcake liners, flat side facing up. Set the other halves aside.

*Beat the cream cheese, sour cream, brown sugar, and mint extract until smooth, then beat in the eggs, one at a time. Mix in the chopped M&Ms.

*Spoon the cheesecake filling into the liners, about 2 TBSP in each. Top with the reserved cookie halves, cream side up. Sprinkle with the nonpareils.

*Bake for 20 - 25 minutes, until the cheesecake is set. Cool completely and refrigerate.

 

Gaining Ps and Losing Qs

 

 

 

 

I remember, I bet you do too, singing the alphabet when I was young. The innocent days of learning to spell, to read, to write.

OK, maybe not so innocent. 

 

I also remember the alphabet song joke. Bet you remember this one too:

 

abcdedfghijklmno qrstuvwxyz

 

 

At which point our not-so-innocent co-conspirator asks, giggling."But where's the P?"

 

"Running down my leg," young you answers, laughing so hard you can barely get your assigned words out (despite having both heard and told this joke about a thousand times).

Ah, bathroom humor. The stuff of childhood. That and fart jokes. Although for the most part we no longer tend to sing the alphabet, on those rare occasions that we do (OK, I'll admit it, I do when alphabetizing a new recipe on this blog's Recipe Box page), all letters have returned to their rightful place.

Or not.

 

While P now stands for good things, like poems, pubs, and pasta . . .

 

 

 Pasta Salad Bites

. . . there's another letter that's in alphabet jeopardy. And it's no joke. It's the Q.

 

Long after my alphabet song joke years, I was probably in high school when I started learning about propositional logic. I loved the study of logic, took a number of college logic courses too. Being left brain dominant, I find comfort in the rational, so the absolutes of logic was my thing. You know what I'm talking about. If P = Q, then whenever P is true, Q is true as well (yes, I'm way oversimplifying). 

Now I know that all of that logic is . . . illogical. Based on a false premise, actually. Because I've learned in the past few years that although P can be a joke, Q is a disease.

Forever more known as the dreaded Q, not funny at all, QAnon (aka Q) is the stuff of lies, mind washing, hateful, harmful, and hurtful conspiracy theories.

 

 

We've all heard them, depraved lies, repeated ad nauseam, advanced with the deliberate goal of causing distress, harm, confusion, even violence. Absurd fabrications, like that Bill Gates is inserting microchips into us all via the covid vaccine. Or that mass shootings didn't happen, are just a hoax. Or that Hillary Clinton ran a child sex ring out of a DC pizza restaurant.

 

Seriously? These theories are so absurd they'd be funny if a significant number of Americans didn't actually believe them. I can't imagine a better example of a complete lack of logic.  

With maturity, we all (most of us, anyway) learn to mind our Ps and Qs (so to speak), when it comes to the bathroom jokes. So welcome back, P. I vow to never again make you the butt of a joke. 

 

But Q? Sorry, you're out.  

 

Pasta Salad Bites      

                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

1 pint grape tomatoes

1/2 of a cucumber

1 can (about 2.25 oz) sliced black olives

1/3 cup + 2 TBSP light raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing, divided

12 - 14 jumbo pasta shells (about 1/2 of a 12 oz box)

1 cup fresh spinach 

1/4 cup bacon bits

 

Directions:

*NOTE: for a larger crowd you can double the recipe and use the entire 12 oz box of shells.
*Quarter the tomatoes. Peel, slice, and chop the cucumber. Tear the spinach. Drain the black olives.

*Mix the tomatoes, cucumber, and black olives in a bowl with 1/3 cup of the salad dressing. Cover and refrigerate.

*Boil the shells to al dente (about 8 - 10 minutes). Drain and rinse 2 - 3 times with cold water to stop the cooking process. Gently toss with the remaining 2 TBSP of the salad dressing.

*Remove the marinated vegetables from the refrigerator. Mix in the spinach and bacon bits, then gently fill the shells with the vegetables.

 

An Acquired Taste

I think I had the pickiest eaters of all of the kids in the world. I know, much like my kids do, you’re sitting there rolling your eyes at me. Yeah, yeah, your kids went through a stage too. But we’re not talking stage here. We’re talking all the way through pretty much now.

When my boys were little they ate very few things and they still don’t. The doctor would tell me to put 3 things on their plate: one they would definitely eat, one they might possibly eat and one they more than likely won’t eat. The idea was that eventually they’d get used to more foods. HA! You poor naive man. My older son lost so much weight we ended up adding supplements to his milk and started calling Carrot Cake a vegetable.

Younger son has a hyperactive gag reflex. No, I won’t go there but suffice it to say that he was and still is a kid who you do not force to try a food that doesn’t appeal to him. Unless you want to wear it.

So what would they eat? Burgers? No. Pasta? No. Hot dogs? No. Pretty much it was chicken nuggets, pizza and lobster. They might have come by the latter taste in-utero. Their mom IS a Bostonian after all.

It appears that my cooking is an acquired taste.

Fast forward a few days  weeks  months  years decades.

My older son, College Boy, is going to be a sophomore in college and still comes to the table and complains when he looks at what’s on his plate whether he’s tried it before or not. If it isn’t a burger or homemade spaghetti sauce, he’ll eat a little to appease me and then go make himself a peanut butter sandwich. He’s able to eat a more diverse diet at this point but mostly doesn’t care to.

My younger son, PurDude, is actually, slowly developing a more varied palate. FINALLY. He does care more about health and is motivated to make dietary changes. A to the MEN.

It figures that when he’s finally appreciating my cooking, PurDude is 2 weeks from leaving home for college.

If you’re keeping score, that leaves an awful lot of catching up to do in a very short time. So I’m trying to develop new recipes with him in mind.

I made Crockpot Barbecue Pork Sandwiches and he really liked them. I had leftovers and rather than just serve them again, I decided to give the barbecued pork new life. I shredded it and made it into a pizza of sorts, right in a skillet on the stovetop. It took minutes to make and he loved it.

Winning!

Stovetop BBQ Pork and Apple Pizza

 

Stovetop BBQ Pork and Apple Pizza

                                                                           ©www.BakingInATornado.com
 
Printable Recipe
 
NOTE: You can use your favorite pulled pork or make my Crockpot Barbecue Pork Sandwiches and shred the leftovers for this recipe.
 
Ingredients (makes one):
1 TBSP butter
1 10 inch tortilla
3 slices sharp cheddar cheese
½ cup cooked barbecued pork, shredded and warmed
½ scallion, chopped
½ of a Granny Smith apple, cored and sliced thin
1/4 cup shredded lettuce
 
Directions:
*In a fry pan that the tortilla will fit into, melt the butter over medium heat. Once it’s hot, swirl the butter so it coats the whole bottom of the pan.
*Put the tortilla into the pan. Cook for about 2 minutes just until it’s hot, then flip the tortilla over. If there are bubbles in the top of the tortilla, gently pop them with a fork.
*Immediately place the cheese slices on the tortilla. Top with the barbecued pork, then the chopped scallions and apple slices. Lower heat a notch. Cook 2 to 3 minutes until cheese is melted and all the ingredients are hot. Remove, garnish with shredded lettuce, slice and serve.

Treasure Box

When I was growing up, whenever I went into my grandmother’s (Alava Shalom) kitchen, there on the window sill was a pushke. It was just a tin box with a picture on the front and a slot in the top.

A pushke is a collection box. Coins were put in and when full the money would be donated to a worthy cause and the collection would start again.

Although I think pushkes were a Jewish thing, giving in some form or another is part of most peoples’ lives and certainly not specific to any religion. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t try to teach their kids about compassion and charity. I think, though, that the times that we give are sometimes specific to us and the way we were raised. Sometimes adding coins to the tin box felt like a superstitious ritual. In times of good luck, Nana would be sure to drop a coin into the pushke. In retrospect I think this served a moral purpose as well; to ground us and add perspective to good times. A “there but for the grace of G-d” type thing.

Although not through a tin box, giving was always tied to memorable occasions as well. When there’s a bar mitzvah, wedding, birth, even funeral, it’s traditional to give to a favorite charity in the name of the person you’re honoring.

I don’t know when the pushke became extinct but as far as I know it is. I haven’t seen one in many years. The value of giving, of course, lives on, but mostly in check form these days. And we also give our time and energy, even our blood and platelets. Tzedakah, the act of giving is seen as an obligation in Judaism and in many other faiths as well. And now, in place of the pushke, I do sometimes see tzedakah boxes.

I believe that the values we want our children to incorporate into their lives; honesty, sharing, healthy eating, giving, they all have the capacity to become a habit if introduced early enough. But how do you explain some of these concepts to young ones?

Fudgy Pie

When the boys were almost 3 and 4, I took them to one of those pottery places where you purchase the pottery, paint it there (ha, genius, leave your mess for someone else) and they glaze and fire it for you. We bought tzedakah boxes, lots of them. There would be one for each of the boys, one for my husband and I, and holiday gifts for all the grandparents and even for my Nana, their great-grandmother.

The boys sat down with a line of pottery and paints and paint brushes and went at it. I made sure each “box” was worked on by both of the boys. I then painted the word Tzedakah on the front and put their names and the date on the bottom. They came out exactly as you’d expect them to, having been painted by two toddlers I don’t need to tell you that I loved them.

Holiday time came and the boys got to give a gift representative of the philosophy of giving.

our tzedakah boxes

If you know my boys at all, it won’t surprise you to learn that one of them has his box full to the brim and will most likely get around to emptying it when I tell him to. The other’s box is somewhere in his room under all the debris, I’m sure.

And mine, I know exactly where mine is. Because this box is not just a means to giving and it’s not just a reminder that tzedakah should start early, but it is a valued piece of art; a true treasure box in every sense of the word.

                                                                             

Fudgy Pie

                                  ©www.BakingInATornado.com

 
Printable Recipe
 
Ingredients, Crust (can be replaced with any graham cracker or chocolate pie crust:
1 stick butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup pecan pieces
1/4 cup matzo meal
2 TBSP matzo cake meal
1 tsp instant coffee granules
 
Ingredients, Pie:
3/4 cup chocolate chips
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup sugar 
2 eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup matzo cake meal (can be replaced with 3/4 cup flour)

 
Directions:
*In a food processor, pulse all crust ingredients until it starts to form a ball. Place into a 10 inch pie plate and evenly pat into the bottom and up the sides. Refrigerate while making pie.
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
*Melt the chocolate chips and stir until completely smooth.
*Beat the butter, sugar and eggs until smooth. Beat in the melted chocolate chips. Mix in the matzo cake meal (or flour if using).
*Pour into the pie crust and even the filling out. Bake for 45 minutes. Top will crack and inside will be fudgy.
*Cool completely. Store in the refrigerator. Bring to room temperature for serving.