Morning, Bacon

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

Bread pudding, a cup of coffee and bacon for breakfast, on this chilly November morning. Now I like bacon crispy and with the least amount of grease possible, so I nuke it on a paper towel lined plate. There were two brands of bacon in the frig: Carolina Pride and Bryan.

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One brand came out looking like bacon and the other, well, didn’t.
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A few minutes in the microwave and two pieces tried to crawl off the plate.
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Bacon stripes or bacon crumbles?

Can you tell which bacon is which brand, by these pictures?

Yeah, I’m griping about bacon. The packages are smaller and the price is higher. You have to really read the package, otherwise you’ll get whimpy slices that all but refuse to come out of the packaging and then shrink up to nothing! Who’s got time to research the bacon aisle after a long day at work?

Excuse me- I watched all the over indulged millennials protesting in the streets and I felt left out…

Back to the comparison : the strips of bacon are Carolina Pride, the crumbles are Bryan. Not telling you what to buy, but I know which I’ll look for.

Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen .

5:30 p.m.

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

Tilly (my Daddy’s old tractor) got a workout today. A path was cut around the big barn. Plans for future livestock were made. Not only the house, but also the barn is having new life breathed into it.

 

I am learning to float sheet rock. It’s not unlike spreading a crumb coat on a cake. There, that’s my food reference for this week. Mudding corners is tricky. This new skill may come in handy on my next mission trip. We will go to Montana. I’ve never been that far West and North.  20161112_132626

November twilight gathered in and the moon snuck into the night sky.

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I have missed the night sky, as I have said before. I couldn’t resist snapping a few photos of the November twilight this evening around 5:30.

Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.

It Started With A Happy Little Cloud

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

This week was so much fun; a happy little cloud in a crisscross sky started my week out with a smile.

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That fluffy little smudge, kinda in the middle of the picture, got me thinking about the Joy of Painting with Bob Ross.  He had a gentle way of speaking and a huge ‘fro of hair. He would use a 2″ brush to paint trees, clouds, water, whatever. When I saw the cloud, it made me think of the famous Bob Ross phrase: “It’s your world. You want a cloud in it? Well, go ahead, put it wherever you want.”

I made up a Facebook  contest: a box of Cajun Pralines to the person who could identify the one who said the above mentioned phrase.

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Players needed a hint and this was it. Sadly, some players guessed Richard Simmons!
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I posted this when I announced the winner.
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A trip to the craft store for paper supplies = dressed up box of pralines

Wednesday at choir practice, the winner was excited when she received  her prize and she shared with the ladies around her. I’ll have another contest in late  November- something with a Christmas theme.

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Thursday brought an early Christmas to my youngest son. Nobel prize winner Bob Dylan played at Thalia Mara Hall in Jackson. It was a great concert. Lots of aged hippies, but some of us younger people too. Only at a Dylan concert would I be considered younger.

Before the concert, we ate supper at the Iron Horse Grill. Tillman was our server. Hot Tamales, Shrimp Fahitas, Shrimp and Grits. I love Shrimp and Grits. If you want really good Southern food, you must try the Iron Horse  Grill. Check out their menu on-line.

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George, waiting to get into the hall, perused the program.

Friday we went to the big home improvement store for a palm sander and a set of attic stairs. We also came home with this.

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George named him Jimmy

Saturday I spent the day at my farm house. Leaving that evening, the stars were magnificent .  I haven’t seen the stars like that in over two years. Living in town (with its glaring street lights) obscures the night sky.

Before the sun went down, I walked my property and snapped a few pictures. Swept steps, baseball bats, purple petunias, old out house, stunning sycamore.

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Take the time to enjoy  life: nature’s beauty, good food, great music, friends and family, simple things.

Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen..

I Got On the Pumpkin Bandwagon

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

I resisted as long as I could, but gave in this morning before leaving to go work on my farm house. What did I give in to? The pumpkin craze that happens this time of year caught up to me. There was that can of pumpkin in the pantry and pie isn’t what I felt like making- oh, by the way. Did you hear that your favorite canned pumpkin is really yellow squash? Yep. There was an article about it a couple of weeks ago. I wonder if I offer anyone a piece of squash pie this Thanksgiving if I’ll have any takers.

Instead of making pie this morning, I made pumpkin bread.  As always, this bread is not too sweet and great with a cup of coffee.

Here’s the recipe and what to do:

In the bowl of your mixer, combine one 15 ounce can of pumpkin (not pie filling), 2/3 cup white sugar, 3 eggs, 2/3 cup olive oil and 2 teaspoons vanilla. Mix till combined.

In another bowl, whisk together 3 cups all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup chopped pecans, 1 teaspoon salt, 2 teaspoons baking soda, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon cloves, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder. Once completely combined, pour into the pumpkin mixture and slowly turn on your mixer. The batter will be very stiff. When mixed, divide dough equally into 2 bread pans, that have been sprayed with Pam.  Place in 350° oven and bake for about 80 minutes. Test with a wooden skewer stabbed in the middle. If it comes out clean, your bread is done. Cool before cutting.20161022_081637

Out at my farm house, the weather was perfect. Couldn’t ask for a prettier day than today. Cool temps, clear blue skies. No butterflies this morning, but the honey bees were busy in the pink sasanqua.

I worked today in what use to be the original kitchen. It has been gutted and will be my son’s bedroom and en suite. Its amazing what a couple if coats of primer will do to brighten a  dark fire place mantel. Again, slow progress is still progress.

My old barn is ancient, with quiet stalls lining both sides and a set of stairs to the second story. No floor on the third story, yet, but one day.

Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.

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Jesus, I Love You

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

Since writing this post two years ago, I have sung Jesus, I love You one time during church service. And I cried through the last few lines. The song is on the schedule for this Sunday. I’m asking for prayer. Whether God is glorified through my singing straight through it technically correct or glorified through my tears may He indeed be glorified. 

Blessings for reading again.

It was after our choir had done the musical Somebody’s Praying You Through that our music minister told me he had picked out a new song for me to learn. It was called Jesus, I Love You: written by Norman Hutchins and performed by the Brooklyn Tabernacle  Choir.

I learned the song, concentrating on the notes and I, of course, learned the lyrics. The first time I sang it during worship I had no problem with it. But in choir practice a few weeks later, as we went over the song again, the words really got to me. I couldn’t sing it for sobbing. And when we would present the song for worship, I couldn’t get through it. I would get to a  certain point and then couldn’t finish it.

Joy of my salvation

Peace in my storm

Loving arms protect me

Shelter from harm

My strong tower

My dearest and best friend

I had no problem with these descriptions of Jesus. My hang up was with the line that proclaimed Jesus as my everything. People would ask me, “Amanda, what is it about the song that makes you cry?” I would tell them, “If I were to sit down and write a love letter to Jesus, it’s exactly what I would say.” But now, just being as real and honest as I can be, I knew deep down that wasn’t the truth. And God knew it, too.

You see,  there were parts of my life that I welcomed Jesus in willingly, invitingly. But then there were other areas in my life that I would wave Jesus away and say, “That’s okay. I don’t want to bother You. I can handle it.”

Until September of 2013, then I realized that I didn’t have it by myself and that I did need Jesus present and powerful in every part of my life.  During these last three years, He has been

there when I was lonely,

there in all my pain,

guiding my footsteps,

shelter from the rain.

And it was Him, He has made my life complete. 

He is to me my everything and that is why I sing. 

During the vamp of the song, the lyrics talk about not being ashamed to tell the world. Now that sounds a lot like evangelism. Evangelism, I thought up until this past year, was for other people. Well, in 2016 I have gone on two mission trips: one to Nashville, TN and the other to New Milton, England.

Was way out of my comfort zone, let me tell you. Half way over the Atlantic, the pilot throttled back on the engines. I punched the GPS on in the back of the headrest of the seat in front of me to see how much longer we had to fly. Oh, gee, only about another four hours. Um, Mr. Pilot, are we gonna make it to England? Hhhmmm? Please. Closer to God up in a plane, I guess. Prayers were flying around up there, I can assure you.

On English ground, I met many lovely people, all with hearts focused on God. I found myself opening up and telling my story, from my beginning salvation to my present walk. They responded with warmth, thanked me for my testimony,  and wished me the best. I’ll  always treasure my visit there.

Another adlib in the song praises Jesus with

How You set me free!

Isn’t that the truth?! I am free! As much as I loved my earlier life, I would not want to go back there. The only one I need to please is Him. Which if each of us would make that our priority, this dark world would be a whole lot brighter. Will I cry the next time I sing it? Well, we’ll all find out together. So,

Jesus, I love You. I couldn’t imagine if you were not there.

Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.

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Slow Progress

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

Surprises have popped up at my farmhouse. Choices and decisions, ideas and plans have to be changed. Yet, slow progress is still progress.

Some friends stopped by today. I gave them the tour, told them our plans. In the living room, my friend tried the keys of the old Werlein piano. Doesn’t sound that badly, considering it hasn’t been played or tuned in decades.

They had nothing negative to say, even though I sensed they were making a list of everything that still needs doing.

“I know there’s so much work to do,” I said.

“Yes, but it’s going to be great when it’s finished. You’re going to enjoy living out here.”

I appreciated their being positive. Some have not been.

“A big ol’ smile appears on my face when I turn off the highway and head down this road,” I explained. “The sky is bluer, the clouds whiter. Butterflies flutter ahead of my car, leading the way to the house.”

“You’ll enjoy that porch in summertime.  You can sit out there at night and listen to the whippoorwills and hoot owls.”

My friends left and I climbed back up the ladder. I ripped out old ceiling tiles today and at least a million staples. Decided where my antique pie safe will go and that the light fixture from the parlor will be spruced up and moved to illuminate future family dinners.

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Dining room:  I tore out the ceiling and Mama swept up

Slow progress is still progress.

Blessing s from the Exile’s Kitchen.

Wishing For Cooler Weather

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

August drags on. My next statement is a given: it’s hot! Where I am not wishing for winter weather, cooler temps would be nice. Inside is where I’ll be found today. In the kitchen, baki…

Source: Wishing For Cooler Weather

Wishing For Cooler Weather

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

August drags on. My next statement is a given: it’s hot! Where I am not wishing for winter weather, cooler temps would be nice.

Inside is where I’ll be found today. In the kitchen, baking an apple cake. Digging around in the gadget drawer for something else the other day, I found the apple corer my former mother-in-law gave me a few years back. Seeing the  Pampered Chef gadget made me want apple cake. So, I’m spending Sunday afternoon in the kitchen.

The apple corer is a handy little thing to have: makes preparing apples for recipes a whole lot easier.

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Put the sharp tool on the blossom end of the apple and push straight down. A plunger inside the gadget makes dispensing the core easy. Simple, simple.

Cake’s in the oven and I think I better check it.  I wrote Miss Hudy’s Apple Cake last year. That’s the recipe I am using today. But I didn’t peel the apples like Mrs. Hudy says to do. No reason, really. I just didn’t feel like peeling apples today.

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Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.

My Grandmother’s Scarf

Posted on by theexileskitchen by Amanda Ellison Anglin

Randomness

Last week it rained. The week before that it rained.  And the week before that. It’s soggy. None of my family in the Baton Rouge area were personally affected, but they are helping with the clean up and tearing out. Brings back childhood memories- sad, scary ones. This flooding in Louisiana is worse than what we experienced in 1983. My heart goes out to my native city. Our church collected needed items last Monday. I gave what I could.

My youngest went back to school Saturday afternoon. All day he kept asking if I was going to miss him.

“I already do and you’re not even gone yet,” was my answer.

He threw open his big arms and said like he did when he was little: “Hug?”

I hugged. He packed. Getting into his truck, he hesitated, jingled the keys.

“You know, if you need anything, just call me.”

“I know I can,” was my answer. “Now get on up to school. Be careful on Spring Ridge Rd. Wear your seatbelt. Message me when you get there, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” One last, “Be careful.”

 

I drove to my 1902 farmhouse.

Primer, paint rollers, brushes and a radio were unloaded from the trunk of the car.  A box fan was positioned to blow into the parlor, windows raised. Big windows, wavy glass symmetrically placed in ten foot high walls.

I listened to the news. They gave reports about the flooding in Louisiana. Interviews of Baton Rouge residents, their distress and plight clear in their tired voices, had me teary eyed. Bad memories.

I rolled primer over antique green paint. The walls are tall, but as the green disappeared a brightness rose. A message from George meep-meeped from my phone. He had arrived at school and was lugging his stuff up to his dorm. As I text him back, movement in the front yard caught my attention. A doe and her spotted fawn cautiously picked their way through the overgrown front yard. Beautiful.

 

I changed the radio station and found a rebroadcast of the Prairie Home Companion. I laughed and primed.  When there was no more primer in the two gallon bucket, I washed out my roller and brush. The new well has water that comes out cold and sweet.

 

Sunday morning: prayers for Georgie at 7 a.m. Dressed for church, I rummaged through a drawer for something to tie back my unruly head of hair. I found one of my grandmother’s scarves. The red was a little darker than the pants I wore (reds are hard to match perfectly), but wearing it today brought back good memories of Grandma. Strong lady. Maker of chicken pie. Eyes the color of dark blue marbles and a bright intelligent smile.

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Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.