chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut

Five days from now, at least the now in which I am writing, I will be one day into yoga teacher training with Ana Forrest. !!! I’ve been planning this for more than a year, saving vacation and practicing yoga and trying to learn how to be as comfortable with myself as I can be. Yet now that it’s here I somehow feel surprised. Sort’ve. Another part of me knows that I’m ready. I am ready. Especially now that I finished making these.chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut Which taste much, much better than they look. And are here, in my freezer, ready to go without any need to plan or prepare or purchase. Healthy, homemade vegetarian food (we aren’t allowed to bring non-vegetarian food into the studio. Oh, and we aren’t allowed to eat garlic or onions. Or drink coffee. Lots of rules.) that will be fine spending a few hours in my bag and will be nourishing and strengthening without being heavy. Or so I hope. Because there’s no way to know now about what life will be like then. Sigh. Hopefully the training will help me get a bit more comfortable with this truth. Which applies to everything, always. Sometimes I like to pretend otherwise. But I know.

Perhaps that is why I so love to cook. Because it is a way to have control in this wold of constant change. Hmmm. Or maybe it’s just that I love food? Probably a combination. I used to love cooking more for other people to eat, as a way to express love. Lately, as I’ve spent most of my time alone, I’m learning that I like cooking for myself too. It feels good to take care of myself. But, again, perhaps it comes down to control. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it later. For now, here is the recipe for these homemade protein bars, which I first learned of from a friend at yoga, then finally made by adapting a recipe I found here.

Chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut
–3 cups cooked chickpeas, rinsed and with as much skin removed as possible
–2 cups dried figs, soaked in water for one hour then drained
–1/2 cup nut butter (I used a mix of almond and sunflower seed, both to finish off a jar and to up the calcium)
–1 snack-sized container of applesauce–about 1/3 cup? (I know. This is not very environmentally responsible. But the full jars kept molding.)
–1 tablespoon high-quality vanilla extract
–pinch of sea salt
–1/4 cup coconut flour
–1/4 cup almond flour
–1/4 cup sesame seeds
–1/2 cup unsweetened coconut flakes

Preheat the oven to 350. Combine the first six ingredients in the bowl of a food processor. Mix until thoroughly combined. Add the flours. Mix again, scraping down the sides as necessary. The batter will become very thick–you will probably have to scrape a lot. Add the sesame seeds and coconut. Mix again. You may have to finish by hand with a wooden spoon.

Grease a 13 x 9 baking dish (smaller is also okay) with coconut or olive oil. Press the dough into the pan. Bake for about 20 minutes. Let cool then cut into squares. I  laid the squares out in a rectangular container and stacked, separating the layers with wax paper, then put the container in the freezer. Allegedly they’ll keep in the freezer for two months. I don’t think I’ll have them that long. I will let you know. One day. Because I know that I seem to stay away from my blog longer and longer. But I always come back. Thank you for reading.

Also, here are a few photos from a walk I took this morning along the Chicago River. Note the bee. And doesn’t this tree resemble a person doing a standing split? Sort’ve? Except way more beautiful than the most beautiful person could ever be. Or maybe just different. Still. Quiet. Exactly as it is without needing to be anything else.

Maybe in yoga teacher training I will learn how to be more like a tree. Probably not. But maybe.

bee on flowerfavorite tree

mushrooms on treeyellow flowers

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buckwheat zucchini muffins

This recipe is adapted from Erin Scott’s Yummy Supper, a gluten-free cookbook I checked out of the library last week. I haven’t tried any of her other recipes, but this one is great–the muffins are what you want in the morning, sweet but not too sweet, dense and filling but unobtrusively so, leaving you satiated but not full. And, oddly, buckwheat zucchini muffinsthese benefited greatly from being made ahead and frozen. I made them the other day and thought they were just okay. Yet, as I told a friend, while I didn’t think the muffin was the best tasting thing I’d ever eaten, I couldn’t stop eating it. And afterward I felt terrific, happy and full of energy. Nourished with zero crash. But the thawed version I ate yesterday morning, after yoga and before a visit to the Kettle Moraine State Forest in Wisconsin (!!), Kettle Moraine, Nordic Trailwas delicious. The flavors somehow deepened and softened, becoming one. I highly recommend. And you will note that this recipe contains no beans. I’ve been thinking about rewriting the “about” section of this blog. Because, really, I might post a lot more often if it wasn’t mostly about beans. Stay tuned for more on that. For now, though, here’s this recipe.

Buckwheat Zucchini Muffins (makes 12)

2/3 cups buckwheat flour
1/2 cup millet flour
3/4 teaspoon coarse seat salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 eggs, at room temperature (use the best eggs you can find and afford — it makes a difference)
1/3 cup honey (again, use good honey, ideally local. Good ingredients make good food.)
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup coconut oil, melted (sub olive oil if you dislike coconut)
1-2 Tablespoons molasses (optional–I used about a teaspoon because it was all I had)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (again, use high-quality vanilla extract. It’s easy to make your own!)
1-1/4 cups packed grated zucchini, squeezed dry in a towel, paper or kitchen
1/2 cup cacao nibs (original recipe called for walnuts, but I was out)

Preheat oven to 350. Grease a muffin tin with coconut or olive oil. You could also use butter. Whisk first six ingredients together. Whisk eggs either in a separate bowl or with the paddle attachment in f a standing mixer. Add honey, maple syrup, oil, molasses if using, and vanilla, until blended. Slowly add the dry ingredients and mix until blended. Add the zucchini and cacao (or walnuts), and stir to combine. Pour the batter into the muffin tin and bake 20-25 minutes. Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

Thistlep.s. This is the flower of a thistle. It made me think about Mark Bittman’s recent op-ed about foraging, and wish I’d taken notes. Or brought a guide. Because I bet there were a lot of edibles out there. Next time. This time, though, while we didn’t forage for wild food, we did stumble upon a remarkably great farm to table restaurant. The Black Sheep in Whitewater, Wisconsin. It was so good! Nourishing and delicious and creative. And every ingredient is Black Sheeplocally sourced, even the flour they use for their gravies and sauces, not to mention desserts. My friend and I split the cherry cobbler. It was delicious. But full of gluten. Yet I did not get sick. Food for thought.

Boston Baked Beans

Once again, it’s been a very long time since my last post. Dreamsofmyfava is languishing. Yet I am thriving. Living. Slowly learning how to be in the world more fully as I am. Which maybe isn’t the same as being the person I wish I was or could be. It’s all very interesting. At least to me. I’ve also been very busy with big projects at work. Indeed, I think maybe all my energy for writing has been directed there. So that I’m now writing this blog post only because on Friday I finally finished the reply brief in a really big case I’ve spent huge amounts of time and energy on in the past year and won’t start work on a new case until Monday. Mental space is crucial.

view from the gazebo at Pete and Anna's cabinBut this post is meant to be about Boston Baked Beans, which I made yesterday. I was inspired by my recent trip to New England. I was there last weekend to visit a dear friend and her husband, who live in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We spent a little time in Cambridge, but mostly we were in their family’s cabin in New Hampshire.

The cabin has no electricity or running water. Which maybe sounds terrible. But instead it was lovely. I’d been there once before, for their wedding several years ago. This time was different, though, because it was just the three of us and their dog, surrounded by and immersed in nature. And probably because I am so different now from how I was then.

My friend’s parents built the cabin thirty years ago, and have gradually added a million thoughtful details. Like this handletree handle on the screen door to the gazebo. Or the handwashing station next to the outhouse, which I didn’t photograph. So you’ll have to trust my words to convince you that it somehow managed to be more luxurious than any bathroom I’ve ever visited. An outhouse that smelled of wood and air.

I guess it smells of wood and air because there are trees everywhere and not much else. Except a few large stones, because the area was formed by glaciers.

As for the man-made aspects, another standout, which I again failed to document, was the garden, where one could easily get lost in meditation while ostensibly choosing and picking herbs and leaves for sandwiches, salads, eggs.

The cabin itself seems to have arisen organically, as if it was grown rather than built. Because there are so many considerate touches. Like the candleholders that are placed here and there and everywhere, so that they’re just where you want them, including one with a handle, and others that have been mounted to the wall in the back bedroom where I slept. That bedroom also held a basin so I was able to wash up a little inside just before bed and in the morning.

More extensive wash ups come with swimming outside in “The Pond,” which is apparently the New England word for “lake.” Whatever you called it, this pure body of water is deep and cold and still. Diving in you feel completely alive. And somehow extra clean.

Pone in the morningI think it was the lack of electricity that rendered the world of the cabin so special, so healing. My breath was deeper, like the way it is after yoga before I emerge into the clamor of city during days here in my normal life. Such a contrast from the cabin, where I felt like I could hear everything inside and out, uninterrupted by the noise I’ve become so accustomed to in Chicago. It was amazing. At one point, I even imagined I heard the trees speaking, not in words but with unmistakable meaning. Clear, direct communication.

During this moment when I believed I heard the trees speaking to me, my friend and I were in the gazebo. It had just rained, was raining, with alternating bouts of gusty wind and soft, barely audible patters. I was attuning her to Reiki, level one. (Because I’m a Reiki master now. Which is pretty cool.) I felt a deep sense of connectedness, with the trees and the stones and the rain and the gazebo and also with my friend, her husband, their dog, everything as one. And suddenly the trees were sending this message about how much they cared about my friend’s well being, recognizing her goodness, her beauty, the feeling they had of her belonging there, with the family, in that place. The trees were expressing their support for what we were doing. Which is cool. Because the trees are such a big part of everything there. It view from gazebofelt good to know or at least believe that we had their support and what felt like their love.

Now, writing this, I fear that maybe I sound a little crazy. Or, at best, eccentric. Whimsical. Like my imagination has gone overboard. Which very well may be true. But what I realize now too is that it doesn’t matter. What matters is that feeling. Because the feeling, whether objectively true or not, creates an opening. And with that open heart I allow the world to come in. Then, in that opening, I’m able to come out of myself with a deep faith that things are ultimately good.

Which brings me to the recipe. Finally.

Boston Baked BeansFor a long time baked beans were the only kind of beans that I liked, especially the kind that came in a can with heavy, syrupy sweet good sauce and awful chunks of fatty salt pork that I would fish out and cast to the side. As a kid growing up in the South I would doctor cans of Campbells beans by adding dijon mustard, brown sugar, and a little ketchup, then I’d bake them until the sauce was thick and bubbling. I liked to scoop them up with potato chips as a side for burgers.

When I was married my then-husband and I graduated to Bush’s baked beans, which tasted without doctoring similar to those beans of my childhood. I ate them the same way, scooped up with chips. Although he preferred plain Lays to my beloved Ruffles. The consequence of his strong personality and definitive taste combined with my insecurities was that I, too, learned to prefer plain Lays. (Now that I’m divorced I like both. Chips, which are gluten-free, may be my worst vice.)

Nowadays, when I’m trying to avoid anything with refined sugar, I eat almost no processed food. (Except chips. Damn chips.) This means I no longer buy any kind of canned baked beans. But I still love them. So, when we stopped at Calef’s County Store on the way home from the cabin, I was super excited to see these beans.Calef's Beans Then, last Sunday, lying in the guest bed in quiet, quiet Cambridge, I searched my friend’s extensive cookbook collection for baked bean recipes. And I decided on this one, an adaption from Slow Cooker Revolution. It took a really long time and wound up having to finish in the oven. But the flavor is perfect. I recommend.

Boston Baked Beans

2 oz. diced bacon
1 onion, minced
4-1/2 cups water
1 pound (2-1/2 cups) dried navy beans, soaked overnight
1/4 cup molasses (I used blackstrap but recipe calls for mild)
1/4 cup maple syrup (subbed for brown sugar)
2 bay leaves
1 tsp dried mustard
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 Tb cider vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

If using the oven, preheat to 350. Drain and rinse the beans. Transfer them to the slow cooker insert or a dutch oven. Cook the bacon in a skillet over medium heat for 5-7 minutes, until the fat has rendered. Add the onion and cook another five minutes or so, adding the mustard and cloves for the last minute. Add the onion mixture, molasses, maple syrup, and bay leaves to the beans. If using the slow cooker, cook on low for ten hours, or on high for seven hours. If using the oven, cover and cook for a couple of hours. Check occasionally and add water to cover if necessary. When the beans are soft, add a teaspoon or so of coarse sea or kosher salt. Stir and continue cooking until the sauce is thick and bubbling, and the beans are tender but not mushy. I wound up using the oven to finish because the sauce didn’t thicken in the slow cooker. But I will try again. If you try this out, please let me know how it goes. And good luck!

chocolate cupcakes with black beans (and no gluten)

I kind’ve can’t believe this recipe worked. But it did. black bean cupcakesThese pretty little things actually taste as good as they look: like rich, chocolatey, totally sinful cupcakes. Except without icing. Because while I seem to have no problem convincing myself that it’s okay to cook cupcakes just for myself, destination-free icing feels like it would be crossing the line into something deserving of diagnosis. Or at least several therapy sessions entirely devoted to my eating disorder.

As is, I’m feeling pretty good about my recent food intake. Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve written. But I’ve been cooking–and eating–plenty, including beans. I just haven’t felt inspired to write about anything. Until now.

This recipe is adapted slightly from Nancy Cain’s gluten-free cookbook, Against the Grain.

1/3 cup coconut oil
2 cups cooked black beans, drained
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
4 large eggs
1 cup coconut sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Line 12 cups of a standard muffin tin with paper lines or grease with coconut oil. (I did the former this time then found myself a little angry about all the delicious cake that the paper liner stole. Next time I’ll grease.)

black bean cupcake batter2. Combine the beans and coconut oil in the bowl of a food processor. Blend until smooth. Add the cocoa powder, scrape the sides, and blend again. The batter will be very stiff.

3. Add the eggs and sugar, and blend until the sugar has dissolved, scraping the sides as necessary. Then add the baking soda and continue blending until it’s mixed in.

4. Divide the batter equally between the muffin cups. Bake for 30 minutes. Cool on a rack. black bean cupcake2Devour with ice cream, if desired. Lately I’ve been into a plain vanilla version of this one. Which is from a paleo website. Obviously I’m not into the whole paleo thing. They prohibit beans. I love beans. We are incompatible. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see the good.

Speaking of beans, note that Cain’s original cupcake recipe calls for a can of black beans. You can definitely do that. But I prefer to use beans that I’ve cooked myself from dried. First, this ensures maximum nutritional value. Second, it’s more economical and, to my mind, has a smaller environmental impact.

For this recipe I cooked a pound of dried beans. Although I usually add kombu, I decided against it for this recipe. So I just rinsed the beans, soaked them overnight, then rinsed, transferred to a pot, and added cold water to cover by about an inch. I then brought the beans to a boil, reduced the heat, and cooked until tender. It took a couple of hours. At the end I added about a teaspoon of salt and let them cool on the stove. In addition to what I needed for this recipe, it made enough to eat for breakfast with eggs and tortillas with about a cup extra, which I put in the freezer for later.

 

 

 

Volunteer Opportunity: Books to Youth in Prison

This is not about beans. But it is very cool. So I’m sharing. If so inspired, please do the same. The more people who knows about these kinds of initiatives, the better.

NIA DISPATCHES

In the next few weeks, we plan to launch a pilot program similar to Chicago Books to Women in Prison.

Chicago Books to Youth in Prison will be a volunteer-led project that collects and distributes books to children in three Illinois Youth Prisons. The project will also invite donors to write letters to incarcerated youth.

by Peter Yahnke by Peter Yahnke

Details of this project are still to be determined. For now, we are seeking potential volunteers who might want to become leadership team members to develop and execute the project.

Come to our initial meeting on February 3 at 6 pm at Civil Lab 114 N. Aberdeen for a preliminary discussion, to learn more and to contribute your ideas.

Please RSVP to confirm attendance by Saturday January 31st to niapoetry@gmail.com.

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Chickpea soup w/ garlic and bitter greens

Gosh. It’s been a long time since my last post. I would apologize. Except, as I started to do so, I realized that this might be my new norm. I enjoy blogging. But it’s no longer a priority. And I’m not sure I still want to write a cookbook about beans.

Not that I don’t still love beans. I do. I’ve just begun to recognize my limitations, especially when it comes to nutrition. There’s so much conflicting information that I don’t have time to sort through. Especially when it comes to beans.

Historically, at least in my world, it was well settled that beans are good for you, that they’re full of protein and fiber and all kinds of good things. But of course it can’t be that simple.

Before I dive into the great bean controversy, I want to give you the recipe, which I adapted from the Chickpea and Kale Soup in Franny’s: Simple Seasonal Italian Cookbook. Speaking of which, within a day of checking this book out from the library, which is what I do with cookbooks, I’d ordered a copy. Because it’s gorgeous and well written and wonderful enough to own. Plus the recipes are terrific. Here’s another review if you’re considering. Also, for what it’s worth, I made the original version of their soup a few weeks ago. And it’s delicious. But I changed things up to maximize the calcium content. See more on that below. Now, the recipe.

Chickpea soup w/ garlic and bitter greens

2 cups dried chickpeas
1 carrot, peeled and cut into 3 or 4 chunks
1 stalk of celery, cut into 3 or 4 chunks
1 small onion, unpeeled and halved
11 garlic cloves, peeled
5 strips of lemon peel, no white pith
1 rosemary sprig
1″ piece of kombu
large square of cheesecloth
2 tsp. coarse sea salt
3-1/2 quarts water
1/2 cup olive oil
1 Tb olive or grapeseed oil
1/2 tsp chili flakes
2 bunches of bitter greens (I used turnip and dandelion–the original recipe calls for Lacinato kale)
freshly ground black pepper

1. Soak the chickpeas for several hours in warm water. There’s more information on that below as well as here. I started mine in the morning then cooked the soup overnight.

2. Rinse the beans and transfer them to the slow cooker insert, if using, or a dutch oven. Combine the carrot, celery, onion, 3 cloves of garlic, lemon peel, rosemary, and kombu in the cheesecloth. Tie up the corners to make a little packet like this one. cheesecloth bundleAdd the bundle to the beans and submerge into the water with a wooden spoon. Add the olive oil. If using the slow cooker, cook on low for 10 hours. If using a dutch oven, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the chickpeas are tender. The timing will depend upon the age of your chickpeas, but check after 45 minutes. Add the salt when the chickpeas are tender and remove from the heat.

bitter greens3. Wash and trim the greens, then steam for about three minutes. Chop the garlic. Heat a tablespoon of grapeseed oil (unless you aren’t concerned about heating olive oil) and saute the garlic and chili flakes for a minute or so, just until fragrant.

4. Transfer the greens and garlic mixture to the bowl of a food processer. Add two cups of cooked chickpeas and one cup of cooking liquid. Process until smooth, then return the puree to thechickpea soup with garlic and bitter greens soup. Stir, taste, and season to taste. Ladle the soup into bowls. If desired, finish with a squeeze of lemon and some Parmesan cheese. I skipped the Parmesan but enjoyed with a slice of cheese toast. Delicious!

Now. Nutrition.

I first learned about the great bean controversy from my friend Jessica, who commented on this post in which I considered whether to soak or not to soak dried beans. Basically, she explained that soaking is necessary to make the nutrients more available. Which is correct. But, because I am extremely stubborn, I couldn’t just take Jess’s word for it.

For most of the past couple of years I’ve accepted that there is a controversy and that I don’t know what’s what. However, I also figured that as long as I continued to feel well, my digestive system was able to handle any potential problems with the beans. But then I was diagnosed with osteoporosis.

Yup. That’s right. It’s a shocker, right? Because while I’m not exactly young, I’m hardly old enough to have osteoporosis. Except that I do.

The upside is that because I’m relatively young and basically healthy, the condition is expected to be totally reversible. I just have to change my eating habits and increase resistance exercise.

Regarding the latter, that’s been pretty easy: I signed up for a weight-lifting class at the hospital. The class is at the hospital instead of the gym because right now my spine is very fragile, so I have to be super careful. As an aside, this has also affected my yoga practice, which I’ve had to modify pretty significantly. Honestly, so far, that’s been the worst part of this whole thing. I’m not supposed to do forward folds, side bends, or twists. Apparently my spine is like a stack of thin fragile plates that could be very easily chipped. Ugh. It kinda sucks. But I’m trying to take it as a spiritual lesson. Which is sort’ve working. I recognize that the experience is good for surrendering ego. Yet it’s still really bad for the expansion of my physical practice. Sigh.

Regarding the former, it’s been a little more complicated. In fact, I’ve had to make a complete overhaul. Because unless you eat 4 cups of yogurt each day, it’s really hard to consume 1500 mg of calcium each day from food. Which is what I’m supposed to be doing. So. Starting with this information from my awesome MD, I began researching calcium-rich foods. And, among other things I’m supposed to avoid (like oxalates and sugar and salt) I found out that Jessica is right–in order for your body to access the calcium in beans, you gotta get rid of the phytic acid by soaking the beans. I’m not sure when my next bone density test will be, so don’t know how long it will be until I find out if my changed eating habits are working. But I’m hoping for the best.

Vegetable stock from ends and trimmings

Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. So long that I’m not sure what to say. Except — hello! And I’m sorry for the lengthy silence. I think all of my creative energy has been absorbed into researching and writing an opening brief for the crazy case I’ve been working on since July. Which still isn’t quite finished. But almost.

So. Here I am. Without anything nearly as elaborate as my last post. But perhaps something much more useful: Vegetable stock made almost entirely from the scraps leftover from making other food. Which is something I’ve thought about a million times. But I never seriously considered it until I read Peter Servold’s Paleo By Season. Which is not to say that I’ve suddenly signed onto the paleo diet. I have not. The paleo diet is, in fact, almost antithetical to my preferred way of eating because it prohibits beans and grains, both of which I very much enjoy. But even though I don’t subscribe to the plan, I like to read paleo cookbooks because everything is gluten-free. I always get great ideas.

Like this veggie stock, which, as Servold  notes, is a perfect way to make use of scraps instead of throwing them away. He gave me a blueprint and confidence that I can make something delicious out of scraps. So I finally decided to give it a try.  Because winter is coming. My garden is closed. I won’t be able to use the compost pile for a while. Plus, like I said, I’ve always wanted to try making stock out of ends and trimmings.

Servold’s version (which he includes not as a standalone entry but in a side-bar with a recipe for Marinara sauce), consists of peelings from 5 carrots, some yellow onion, parsley, and water. The version I made today used almost all of the leftoveer bits from the vegetables I used in my most recent variation of lentil stew with cabbage and root vegetables, which I put together one morning last week before work. In addition to 3 carrots and 2 parsnips, I added a couple of turnips and used a shallot instead of garlic. (Although this post isn’t supposed to be about the lentil stew, I feel compelled to note that my latest batch turned out really well, perhaps the best ever, with the turnips adding a slightly bitter note to cut the sweetness of the carrots and parsnips.)

Because I was thinking about making vegetable stock when I made the stew,  I put everything except the cabbage , which I didn’t think would be good for a stock, into a container in the fridge, thinking I would make stock later. Then of course I forgot. Because all week I’ve been completely absorbed in my work. Which has been good. I forgot how much I like that feeling of complete engagement with a big piece of writing. At times it is overwhelming. But then you get to the end. And there is this wonderful sense of emptiness combined with satisfaction. Ahhhhh. Mental space and a feeling of accomplishment. One day, if I ever manage to make meditation a regular part of my life, perhaps that sense of spaciousness will be commonplace. And perhaps I won’t need an external sense of accomplishment. For now, though, both are something to celebrate.

Especially now. It is Sunday and I have no big case to think about, no oral argument to prepare for, really nothing much going on . A day off.scrap stock Which of course I knew would include cooking. But what? After coffee, I looked in the fridge. Noticed the container of scraps from the lentil stew. Remembered my plan to make stock. Checked to make sure everything was still fresh, then threw it into a pot with half a small onion, a sprig of parsley, and 8 cups of fresh water. I brought it just to boil, then covered part way and simmered for about an veggie stockhour. Then I strained and let it cool. The end result is exactly one quart of fairly light, fragrant, not overly sweet veggie stock. Which is not only delicious but also environmentally responsible and practically free. If you decide to try it, I’d encourage you to use whatever you have with an eye to some balance between sweet and savory and probably steering clear of cruciferous vegetables such as cabbage, cauliflower, and brussels sprouts. The ratio I used was about 4 cups of vegetables (3 cups ends and trimmings plus parsley and half an onion) to 8 cups of water. If you try it, please let me know how it turns out and what you do with it! I think I’m going to make some soup. First, though, I’m going to take a walk. Say hi to some trees. Breathe some air. Enjoy mental space. Have a great day!