mud pies to medicine: Nom Nom

Friday, January 27, 2012

Nom Nom

I've been cooking a bit this week, with recipes. As in, I've actually been measuring stuff out. I made a tasty mushroom soup that I found via Pinterest which you can check out here.

I also made some butternut squash. My mom tells me I loved squash as a baby. Then I graduated from baby food and hated vegetables. I am recently discovering how much I really like butternut squash. I came across this recipe at a cookoff which is really simple.

#27 Butternut Squash

And since I'm heading up to Vermont today without internet access and enough cell reception to send text messages only I'll also leave you with

#28 Out at Sea. This shot was taken from Ross University Medical School on one of their picturesque study spots. Why did I got to medical school in New Jersey? As much as I love the Canadian Geese infestation (not) this would be a slightly better view. The ship I think is actually from Portugal or something like that. The people living on it are helping to clean up the harbor full of broken down ships (see photo #3). Also worth mentioning, this is the island that a lot of Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed on.

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The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.