Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 55

Foodie Friday: Sweet potato and black bean chili

A perfect easy meal for a cold Friday night in Lent. This is not only vegetarian but vegan.

Ingredients

1 Tbs plus 2 tsp EVOO

1 medium-large sweet potato, peeled and diced

1 large onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 Tbs chili powder

4 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp ground chipotle chili

1/4 tsp salt

2 1/2 cups water

2 15-ounce cans black beans, rinsed

1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes

4 tsp fresh lime juice

1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Directions

Heat oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add sweet potato and onion; cook, stirring often, until the onion begins to soften (about four minutes). Add garlic, chili powder, cumin, chipotle and salt; stir constantly for 30 seconds. Add water and bring to a simmer. Cover, reduce heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook until the sweet potato is tender, about 10 to 12 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes, and lime juice; increase heat to high and return to simmer until slightly reduced, about five minutes. (I lowered the heat at this point and left it on  a low simmer for a little bit longer so the flavors could marry.) Remove from heat and stir in cilantro. Serves four.

Cook’s note: I didn’t have chipotle powder the day I made this. I just threw in a few dashes of hot sauce and it was fine. Also, I like to top this with a dollop of sour cream or plain Greek yogurt and a little diced avocado. Another option is to serve it over yellow rice, which is a favorite at our house. Click HERE for a yellow rice recipe by Mark Bittman. His calls for saffron threads. I didn’t have any, so I substituted turmeric (and made a few other personalizations) and it came out great.

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Have you hugged your colon today?

We interrupt our wall-to-wall Pope Francis coverage for my annual post in honor of National Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, which is celebrated in March. Every year at this time, I parade out a photo of my fine-looking colon to get your attention. (Yes, that is my actual colon, as it appeared during my most recent colonoscopy, which was done just over a year ago.)

Why am I so passionate about something that many people (wrongly) feel ashamed to talk about? Because I would rather talk about this disease and pay attention to this disease than die of it, which my mother did just about 25 years ago at the ripe old age of only 47 after a lifetime of very clean living.

If caught early, colon cancer is a curable disease. If not caught early, it will kill you. Sometimes very quickly. My mother had months not years, and not very good months considering what they did to try to save her. So, for your health, for your family, for anyone who cares about you, go get a colonoscopy as soon as you can if you are over 50 and have never had one, or if you are under 50 but have a family history of colon cancer or any diseases of the colon. (For obvious reasons, I’m a proponent of moving that age requirement down to 40 because way too many people die of colon cancer long before they see their 50th birthday.)

The test is not as bad as you would imagine. Really. I’ve had three so far and the advances they’ve made in the prep work that needs to be done is remarkable. The last two experiences compared to my first were like night and day, and I can honestly say that I do not fear the next test, which will come up again in a year or two. (I’m on a two-to-three year cycle of tests now. Thanks, mom.)

In addition to getting a test to makes sure you don’t already have colon cancer or the polyps that can lead to cancer, you can also take some steps to try to prevent colon cancer. Increase fiber, decrease meat. Yes, that’s right. Cut down on meat. Do you think that’s just some vegetarian propaganda? Think again. Red meat is no friend to the colon. Cut it out or at least cut it down. High fat diets aren’t so great either.

If you want more information on the signs and symptoms of colon cancer, testing, prevention and more, go to the American Cancer Society by clicking HERE. Now, go call your doctor and make an appointment before I put up photos of someone’s unhealthy colon just to scare you.

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Don’t make me sing ’70′s folk songs. Because I will.

Do you want to know how bad it’s getting? Yesterday, while in the shower, I found myself singing — out of the clear blue sky — “Come on, people now, smile on your brother. Everybody get together. Try to love one another right now.” I haven’t sung that song since I was in my parish folk group in high school, but this is what it’s come to, people. This is what I’ve been driven to by those who seem to want to find misery where they should be looking for joy, by those who want to tsk-tsk rather than open their hearts and their arms and embrace the possibility of, well, everything.

The initial folk singing was really sparked by the people on both sides of the Catholic spectrum (as well as those who’ve opted to leave the spectrum completely) who have been complaining to me via email, Facebook, and Twitter about my obvious joy over Pope Francis. They simply can’t stand it. How can I be so hopeful when this or that or the other thing could be looming out there? He’s liked by a liberal. He’s liked by a conservative. Run for your lives. Everyone take a deep breath and get a grip. How about we let things unfold a bit, at least a week. Let’s start with that. The man hasn’t even been installed yet, for goodness sake.

But the misery-mongering isn’t just about all things papal. It seems people want to find things to complain about on all fronts, and it’s really bringing out the 1970′s folkie in me. Hence, the singing in the shower. Don’t make be break out the Beatitudes set to Blowin’ in the Wind, or, the ultimate A-bomb of folk music, Kumbaya. I’ll do it. I’m just that twisted. I have a guitar. It’s not that hard to make a video, you know. I’ll flesh all the misery-mongers out like you’re Noriega in Panama.

I want joy, people. Let me see some joy! And just in case you don’t remember that first song I mentioned, here you go. Do you know how many times I sang this at Mass? I can’t wait to hear from all the liturgists!

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Rock star pope with a pastor’s touch

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The importance of a “we” moment

Yesterday Chiara came into our bedroom early in the morning, and as she snuggled up next to me I said, “We have to go sell Girl Scout cookies today.” Here’s how the rest of that conversation went:

Chiara: “I like ‘we.’”

Me: “Huh? Why do you like ‘we’?”

Chiara: “What does ‘we’ mean?”

Me: “It means me and you.”

Chiara (nodding happily): “Mmm-hmmmph.”

Sometimes I need to remember that it’s the really simple stuff that makes a difference. I don’t have to come up with fabulous activities to wow my kids. I just have to be present. Me and you — that’s often what they want more than anything else. Go makes some “we” moments today!

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Irene’s Irish Soda Bread

Every year I run this post because so many people want my mother’s Irish Soda Bread recipe. Here it is again, in time for tomorrow’s breakfast in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. (Sorry if you celebrated it today, according to the Church feast this year. Make it for dessert.)

Keep in mind that this bread must be slathered in butter. Not butter substitute, but real, artery-clogging butter. Enjoy!

4 cups flour

3 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1 cup seedless raisins

1 Tbs. caraway seeds (optional)

1 1/3 cups buttermilk (more if it feels too dry)

1/4 cup Crisco (I’ve experimented with other shortening but came back to this)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sift flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda into bowl.

Stir in raisins and caraway seeds, if using.

Add buttermilk and Crisco. Mix. Knead just enough to moisten dry ingredients. Shape into two mounds and place on a greased cookie sheet. Cut an X into the top of each loaf. Makes two loaves.

Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes. Cool on a wire rack. Cut into wedges or slices to serve.

Hint: Do not try “adapting” this recipe to make it healthier or lighter. I have tried bread flour. I have tried whole wheat flour. Nothing comes close to the real deal.

Note: Yes, I realize the Irish Soda Bread diehards would scoff at this with its raisins and all. This is how we do it/did it in my house.

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My pope crush: He had me at ‘Hola.’

I’ll admit it: It was love at first sight. I have got a crazy pope crush – in an agape sort of way. He had me at “Hola.” Actually, he had me at “Francis.” And so far I’ve still got stars in my eyes. This is new territory for me. Don’t get me wrong. I loved John Paul II, the pope of my youth, and I loved Benedict XVI, the pope of my middle age, but I’m head over heels for Pope Francis. It’s verging on ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.

I know something’s eventually going to happen to snap me out of my papal delirium, but I’m kind of hoping it’ll be more along the lines of a minor annoyance I can live with rather than a habit so offensive I’ll have no choice but to break up.

Some of my non-Catholic friends have joked about my Pope Francis obsession, but I think even they can sense that there’s something really special here, something outside the papal norm. From the minute he stood on that balcony shyly waving and then bowed and asked for the people to bless him, I was hooked. He didn’t even need to buy me dinner, or celebrate a Mass.

And then came one thing after another — the lack of the usual red cape, the impromptu stop at the hotel to pick up his bags and pay his bills, the photos of him riding the subway in Argentina, the phone call to the stunned guy at the front desk of Jesuit motherhouse in Rome, the unusual blessing for non-Catholics and non-believers at his meeting with journalists. With every new thing, I found myself thinking, “This is too good to be true.” I was afraid to hope too much, to fall too hard, but then today, as I sat at my kitchen table drinking coffee, reading the news, and saying over and over, “I love this pope,” I knew I was a goner, regardless of whatever may come down the road. When the bottom falls out of this relationship, it’s going to be bad. Very bad.

I’ve already been on the receiving end of comments and questions and outright criticisms over my apparent blind love when there are issues others don’t like or want questioned right here and now, but I’m inclined to wait, to hear what the man has to say, to watch what he does, who he appoints, how he lives. I think good things are ahead, and I’m too happy and too hopeful to let anyone convince me otherwise right now. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

Of all the churches in all the towns in all the world, he walked into mine. Be still my heart, and sing my soul.

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‘What kind of blessing was that?’ The best kind.

I have to run out and sell some Girl Scout cookies this morning, so I can’t write the pope post I’d like to write just yet. I’ll be back later or tomorrow with that. So for now I’d just like to leave you to ponder this one quote from Pope Francis’ meeting with the media this morning. Read the whole story over at  (photo from CNS):

After personally greeting dozens of journalists and representatives of the Vatican press office, the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, the Vatican newspaper and Vatican Radio, the pope came back to the microphone.

“I know that many of you are not Catholic or are not believers, so I impart my heartfelt blessing to each of you silently, respecting your consciences, but knowing that each of you is a child of God. May God bless you,” he said.

Wow. Thank you, Pope Francis, even if, as John Thavis reported, some folks in the audience complained: “What kind of a blessing was that?”

The best kind. My pope crush continues…More later…

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My blog, my choice. My blog, my choice.

So yesterday I wrote a deeply personal post about my recent spiritual struggles and my feelings of hope upon seeing Pope Francis step onto the balcony. I felt very vulnerable, especially since I spoke about not even being able to pray this Lent. I believe that’s what’s called “putting myself out there.”

Anyway, I put a link to the post up on my Facebook page and was immediately met by a commenter who wanted to draw me into a conversation or controversy on the new pope. That wasn’t the point of my post, and it certainly was not where my head or my heart were at that moment. So I basically said, “No comment.” But the commenter persisted with yet another link. And again I said, “Not going to engage.”

And then this was the best part, the commenter wrote, “May I suggest you not post blog posts that invite engagement?”

Wait. Did someone just tell me I am not free to write whatever I want on my own blog? Did someone — someone who complains about the restrictions the Church puts on various people and actions — actually tell me I need to restrict my writing to suit their needs? Do I no longer have free speech? I was speechless. And, even today, I’m still a little incredulous that the bastions of “tolerance” are so freaking intolerant. Funny how that’s such a one-sided thing these days. I’ve got more tolerance in my little finger than many of these people will ever see or own in a lifetime.

But I digress. I consider myself a spiritual writer these  days. It’s one of the reasons I left OSV Daily Take. I didn’t really want to post about the news of the day in a journalistic or political or controversial way, which is kind of what is required of the big-hit bloggers on Catholic sites. I wanted to blog about the spiritual journey, about prayer, about light and dark, confusion and hope, doubt and faith.

That is where I am. That is who I am. And no one has a right to tell me that I must write a certain way or respond in a certain way for any reason whatsoever. I don’t have an obligation or a duty to answer whatever argument or debate or comment comes my way. As in meditation, when those monkey mind thoughts or comments start jumping around, I choose to watch them float by on the stream of my mind and disappear over the horizon.

This blog is as much for me as it is for any of my readers — and I am so grateful to those of you who return here day after day. But, truth be told, if I didn’t have NSS, I’d be writing these same things in my spiral-bound spiritual journal. This is where I hash out my spiritual life, and if I can share something that helps you along the way or inspires you or makes you smile, all the better.

My blog, my choice. And I choose not to engage. I choose to build a community of love.

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Pope Francis, rebuild our Church. Please.

The weeks between Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI resigning and Pope Francis stepping out onto that balcony happened to coincide with particularly dark spiritual days for me, a long stretch of feeling adrift and wondering where I’d eventually land. There were even days, I will admit, when I railed against the Church (if only in the privacy of my own home). All I kept hearing in my head were Jesus’ own words: “Blind guides…hypocrites.”  Even the run-up to the conclave held no appeal for me. I was detached, unfeeling, unsure.

But yesterday afternoon, when that white smoke billowed out of the chimney, I felt a twinge of excitement — and hope — at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, this would not just be business as usual. When I heard the name Pope Francis, my heart leapt. When I realized that man was the one I’d heard had shunned a private car and a fancy house, I smiled. When Pope Francis stood there and bowed before the crowd, asking the people to bless him before he blessed them, the darkness that had been enveloping me began to lift.

I started searching for things Pope Francis had said or written, and this was the first thing I found:

“We have to avoid the spiritual sickness of a self-referential church.

“It’s true that when you get out into the street, as happens to every man and woman, there can be accidents. However, if the church remains closed in on itself, self-referential, it gets old.

“Between a church that suffers accidents in the street, and a church that’s sick because it’s self-referential, I have no doubts about preferring the former.”

And the light grew. Then I found this:

“We seek to make contact with families that are not involved in the parish. Instead of just being a Church that welcomes and receives, we try to be a Church that comes out of itself and goes to the men and women who do not participate in parish life, do not know much about it and are indifferent towards it. We organise missions in public squares where many people usually gather: we pray, we celebrate mass, we offer baptism which we administer after a brief preparation. This is the style of the parishes and the diocese itself. Other than this, we also try to reach out to people who are far away, via digital means, the web and brief messaging.”

And the tears formed, and for the first time in weeks I no longer felt adrift. Every quote and every photo I found over the course of last night gave me more and more hope. When I went to bed,I picked up the “little black book” I had been using for Lent, the one still opened to the first week of Lent because I had been unable to pray, and turned to March 13 and prayed.

I don’t usually put so much stock in one person, especially a high-ranking churchman, but this man gives me hope in new ways. Being a Jesuit but choosing the name Francis speaks volumes, and I am so excited to see what happens next for our Church, where this humble man who has chosen simplicity and the poor over comfort and the curia will take us.

God told Francis: “Rebuild my church.” Please, Pope Francis, do the same for us. Rebuild our Church from the inside out and remind us what stands at the heart of our faith under all the worldly trappings.

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