
I just took that picture. As I write I can smell the aroma in my house and I can have a facial in the steam, if I feel like it. I know it’s going to be a good day because I’m going to eat my absolute favorite food. I have several food allergies, so what I can eat is limited and most of my once favorites are now forbidden. But not Minestrone, thank God~! When I’m cooking Minestrone I won’t skip one step and call it Minestrone because I can tell the difference. I will be bothered by the extra work and trouble because it makes a difference and for my favorite, I will accept nothing less than the best. It’s so good I’ve had people plead and beg for my recipe but I’ve hesitated to give it because it takes true love to get it right and I’m not sure I can trust anyone else to stir in the heart that it requires. But because I feel generous today and I’m thankful that you come to me and read my quirky stories… I’m going to share it. And forgive me because I’m not big on measurements. I just look at it and decide if it looks right to me. You’ll have to try and make do with the “eyeball” measurements.
First~ the day before you want to make the soup: Make some home made chicken stock. Take a whole chicken, or buy one cut up and put it in a stock pot, add water, a few bay leaves, chopped up onion, carrot, celery, garlic, a few peppercorns, salt to taste. I cover it and simmer it for a few hours. Strain it and save the liquid. Put it in the fridge and let it chill so the fat rises to the top, which I skim off when I use it to make the soup. It should have a deep golden color and smell great. The meat can be reserved for another recipe or frozen, it won’t be used for this soup. (My kids will make chicken quesadillas themselves with it.) Stock also freezes well.
Soup Day:
Put the skimmed stock into the soup pot. Add rustic chopped vegetables. I like a good chunk of carrot on my spoon and in my mouth. But I don’t want long green beans. I also don’t prefer floppy big onions, I like those small too. Here’s what I put in: again, the quantities are up to you. I don’t think it matters. It’s according to how you like your soup.
green beans, garlic, carrot, onion, yellow squash, zucchini, a can of diced tomatoes, a can of drained canellini beans, a can of drained garbanzo beans, salt and pepper, some fresh thyme twigs, a couple bay leaves and a small can of tomato paste. (before serving pull out the bay leaves and the barren thyme twigs)
Now my biggest most important and best secret: A big chunky rind from the authentic Parmesano Reggiano wedge of cheese. It’s got to be from Italy and well aged. No substitute will work. And if you don’t use it you can’t call it my Minestrone. I toss it in and let it flavor the soup as it cooks. It gets soft and gummy. When it’s done cooking I throw it out. (Craig is laughing because now you all know what a twirp I can be.)
Now I simmer that mixture for a couple hours. Separately I cook some elbow macaroni noodles. I reserve some of the cooking water and use it to keep the noodles from sticking. I keep them in a bowl separately. I never ever add them to the soup because it makes them into mush. That’s a big no no. Always keep noodles separate from soup that you wish to use as leftovers. (and this soup tastes better as leftovers so make a big pot)
For this pot of soup I have a good harvest of basil in my vegetable garden so i’m going to make some homemade pesto. I don’t always do that. I use a good quality pesto from costco.
Assembling the bowl of soup is an art I learned from waitressing at a fine dining Italian restaurant while I went to the University of Michigan. I can’t think of a better way so here’s what needs to happen:
In your bowl put a scoop of macaroni noodles. And a big dollop of pesto. Then ladle the soup over it. Stir it up. Top with a few shaving of parmesan with a microplane so the cheese just melts right in. Lately, I have an affinity for truffle salt. If you can find that a little sprinkle on top is irresistible. Manga! Bon Appetito! Salud! Dig in!
Remember it always tastes best on a day that is just a little gloomy and chilly one that makes you want to curl up on the couch with a good book. For life in the south, any day that goes into the seventies will do. It looks a little like how Lucy felt this morning:

I found her this way. One of the kids wrapped her in her blanket and she liked it so she never moved. Funny. Sadly for her she won’t be eating my soup, but I do notice her nose up in the air around the stove. Even she knows it will be divine.






The list is long. Being on the beach with Craig is my personal favorite joy, but that’s not a daily option for me. I’m sure every person has a good long list of favorite ways to have an “instant fix”. When I feel a little overwhelmed, blue, confused, lonely, distraught with a problem, tired, bored– there’s something in me that rings a little bell and announces, “Hey you can fix this right now go do it.” It is quite difficult for me to sit on those negative feelings and just let them reside. I don’t want to feel those things, not at all. It makes me squirmy.

In Europe kids are managed. In Asia, they are indulged. In South America they are coddled. In Africa they are overwhelmed with children. No matter what parents love their kids with the best they have in them. A parent’s love of their child is a universal language. It’s just that having kids to raise is not a univeral experience. Of course, I report this from my own limited experience with the people I meet, the observations from the street, and the books that I read. Us parents, we don’t usually have much of a clue what to do with these kids as they develop and move out of childhood (just when we’re getting a hang of it) and they move into adolescence striving for their own independent adulthood. We panic as parents. We are fearful, we don’t want to give them the relaxed leash they need, we aren’t ready to let go… blah blah blah. Some parents just step out of the parenting role and hope the adolescent kid can figure it out. It’s usually our issue, and not theirs. Our kids are usually doing what they need to do. Their hormones and social development hurl them forward into the next phase they need to confront, whether they are ready or not. We parents think we’d like to be in control so we either try to halt it, or thwart it or surrender to it helplessly. Isn’t it just remarkable that kids turn out ok?











This is George Akena. He has been a long time friend of our Pastor Omar. When the two of them reunited this trip it was touching. Pastor pulled him to himself and they had a long conversation of reuniting. It was so easy to see a fatherly approach he took with George. He likes to tease him and either call him George Bush, or Eddie Murphy. He does have a smile that resembles Eddie, but he’s not sure what that means because he hasn’t seen one of his movies. This young man is a solid Christian and at one point he took the counsel of Pastor to determine if he ought to go become a Pastor or study the law and become a lawyer. Pastor urged him to study law because the country needs good solid Christian men in leadership roles. Pastor believes this intelligent young man of great integrity and humility will some day be an influential leader in his country. I pray it will be so. George works in the prison during the day and he goes to law school at night. On the Sunday we were there he spent the day with us going to church where Pastor preached, and the afternoon at the guest house with all of us. It was the only afternoon where we were free to relax and enjoy the company of everyone without having to be some where or work. George accompanied some to the store, and to the internet cafe. He played with the missionaries kids at the house and with their german shephard. During the church service I saw several children climb into his lap and he worshipped with a child in his arms. He’s a nice man.















The unborn are extinguished casually with quick abortions at clinics or in the bush by witch doctors. Life in the womb, to many, is not considered valuable but a burden to remove. (This boy holds the twelve week old model of an unborn baby. The average size of an abortion. They were seeing for the first time it is a baby with hands, feet, eyes and organs.)

