No pasta, no bread, no sugar. A low-carb life rededicated.

I've resisted NY resolutions, but they keep coming at me. All online and print venues scream with January weight-loss plans and exercise programs. Have I ever resolved to lose weight and exercise? Of course! Only for about 40 years. Maybe more. I'm always nibbling away at poundage and at the pledge to get strong, flexible, and balanced. This year I thought, I'm not going there. I already know how to eat, how to keep fit.

Typical low-carb dinner: Soup with onions, garlic, kale, a few  beans, chicken and chicken broth, roasted green chilies, chipotle peppers, topped with avocado and a dollop of sour cream. Low-carb doesn't mean low-fat. The quesadilla on the side is a bit of a splurge as most small corn tortillas have 12-15 carbs.

But somehow, after an especially tempting and delectable holiday baking season, I have rededicated to a low-carb regime that began a decade ago, and that has kept me at a reasonable weight and good health without too much suffering or deprivation.

Unless, of course, I count the suffering and deprivation during my near-death experience in October 2002 and the subsequent circumstances that set me on this dietary lifestyle. As I wrote in 2005:

In October 2002, I accidentally lost 15 pounds. It was easy, and I didn’t have to do a thing except nearly die. This is not a weight-loss method I recommend, but it ultimately changed my life and the way I look at food. So I guess that like a lot of bad things that happen to good people, my illness can be viewed as a blessing and perhaps the world’s strangest route to low-carbohydrate nutrition. 

 I had just returned from three weeks in Nepal, a spectacular but terrifying third world country with its feet in putrid refuse and its eyes on the shining mountaintops. I carried back with me an evil hitchhiker, a virulent bacteria that multiplied exponentially and dumped toxins into my blood by the bucket load. 

After a few days of beating back a 104 fever with OTC remedies,  I ended up in the ER, weak and miserable beyond description. After misdiagnosis (and treatment) for malaria ensued, an ER doctor declared in a voice that I later realized was a bit peppy for the occasion, You're septic!

I had no idea what septic meant, which was good, although I was too sick to be scared. I was admitted to the hospital and lost consciousness almost immediately. 

The first, and, fortunately, the only, organ to fail was my kidneys. My loved ones offer sobering accounts of watching me puff up like a blowfish. My primary care doctor then, Dan Moline, M.D., pulled in infectious disease specialists and knocked himself out to find an antibiotic that would work, but nothing did. Fluids continued to seep out of capillaries and into tissues contributing to the blowfish effect. 

Dr. Moline prepared my family for the worst, but he refused to give up on me. He later told me that he stayed with me until 2:30 a.m. on the night he expected I would die, and then remembered a simple now out-of- favor treatment for kidney disease or failure: albumin infusion. The next morning he expected to see an empty bed, but there I was, sitting up in bed staring at my hideous arms, which looked like clown balloons and were too heavy to lift.

My kidneys had kicked back in, my capillaries were beginning to behave, and the fluids that had been pumped into my tissues for days began to drain. I had gained 70 pounds of fluid in less than a week.

Relocated from the ICU to a regular hospital room, I used my strange heavy arms to lift food to my mouth for the first time in a week. Hospital food! Bleah! Right off the bat, I was offered Ensure, a thick, sweet, nauseating concoction that coats the tongue like milk of magnesia. The first two Ensure ingredients are water and sugar. One cup of Ensure has 50 grams — approximately 12.5 teaspoons of sugar. I wasn’t paying attention to sugar grams back then, but knew that Ensure and some of the other “meals” that appeared on my bed tray were not doing me any good. (This later led to an early ah ha! moment: Most hospital dietitians and too many doctors are stuck in the dark ages about alternative approaches to nutrition.) 

Note: As I update this post in May 2016, I concede that Ensure has benefits. It helped keep my mother alive until her demise at 98, and a friend's mom, approaching 103, is on an Ensure diet.

With the catheter out, my main exercise was shuffling back and forth to the latrine as the stored fluids made their way through my restored  kidneys. Back home, I remained a frequent flyer to the bathroom. Each morning for a couple weeks I was rewarded at the scale with a one-to-three-pound overnight weight loss. Fun! 

I'd wanted to lose 15 or 20 pounds for years, but not badly enough to suffer deprivation.  I’d had it with yo-yo dieting, always regaining the five to 20 pounds I managed to lose. 

I'd shoved aside the fact that I weighed almost as much as I had when I was nine months pregnant with my first child (170 pounds), and told myself that wearing big tops over elastic- waist pants wasn’t such a bad fashion statement for a woman in her fifties. My body mass index, which, I knew nothing about at the time, was 26.5, putting me solidly into the overweight category. Nobody, especially me, was describing me as obese, but more like “she could stand to lose a few pounds.” Boy, was I in denial.

When the weight loss (and multiple nocturnal bathroom visits) finally stopped, I settled at 155 pounds, down 15  from my pre-Nepal weight. Yahoo! I thought. Now if I can just manage to keep it off.

Keeping weight under control wasn't quite as easy as I thought. After my medical crisis passed, I was back to preparing family meals as usual: lots of veggies, brown rice, baked potatoes, salads, and low-fat meats. Bacon was banned, and so was butter. But not Junior Mints, which were fat free. What could possibly go wrong?

Plenty. Just ask all the people who gained weight and kept it on during decades of the low-fat nutrition craze, which still holds sway. Me? I'm a low-carb believer now, and have been known to proselytize.

All I need to do during the resolution time of year is to talk to myself about making a correction here and there.: Cut the bread, sugar, pasta, processed foods, cakes, cookies, and no sodas, ever.

So far, so good.

The low-carb burger. No bun, baby. Use a fork and a napkin. 

Winter Squash and Chili Peppers Bisque

I cooked Christmas dinner for six this year. On the menu: mustard-seed-crusted prime rib roast with roasted balsamic onions and horseradish/mustard/creme fraiche sauce—terrific!. Thanks, Epicurious; steamed broccoli with lemon and butter; baked yellow potatoes, and, in my opinion, the star of the show, this squash/pepper soup.

Loads of roasted green and red chilies, chipotles and  jalapenos combined with butternut squash make a savory bisque topped with a dollop of sour cream, roasted conquistador peppers, and a drizzle of reduced balsamic.

I searched the Web for a recipe, and found several that combined winter squash and peppers. But alas, they were all wimpy. Not enough peppers. Not enough heat or flavor. I had to have a roasted-pepper-heavy dish on the menu because one of our guests recently bestowed upon us a pepper roaster, a hand-cranked unit that blasts the rotating peppers with gas flame. We wanted to demonstrate our gratitude by including a dish dripping with flavor and loaded loaded with roasted peppers. 

PK is roasting Big Jim — New Mexico-type peppers. If only you could smell the pepper perfume!

So I improvised on a squash bisque I've made several times (including for our fundraising farm dinner in September). Before I get to the recipe, I must mention a couple other items on the holiday table: chipotle sauce and PK's ground pepper flakes—our ever-present condiments.  

From left to right: serrano, cayenne, anza, jalapeno, and up top, Italian hot.
PK grinds  his dried peppers  separately then blends them.
We garden together, but the peppers? HIS. His alone.

This is a block of frozen mostly green roasted chilies weighing about 10 ounces.
I added  it, partially thawed,  early in the soup prep. 

Other soup ingredients. Those little black things in the front are chipotles.
Conquistador peppers are in the bag, serrano sauce in the pint jar, jalapenos in the bowl. 

Winter Squash and Chili Peppers Bisque

1 whole butternut or other winter squash - about 3 pounds

1 medium to large onion, minced

2-4 cloves garlic, minced

2 stalks celery, minced

2-4 jalapeno peppers, seeded, minced

3 T butter

32-48 ounces of chicken or vegetable broth or stock

1 1/2 cups half and half or heavy cream (go for the heavy cream!)

1/4 - 1/2 cup serrano sauce (more about this later)

8-12 ounces of roasted green and/or red chili peppers

6-8 ounces of roasted red chili peppers (may substitute sweet), sliced 

2-3 dried chipotle peppers

2 tsp sea or kosher salt

1 tsp ground black pepper

1-2 tsp. ground cumin

1 T honey (optional)

Bake the squash whole in advance at 350 for 60-80 minutes, or until a knife inserts easily into the most dense part. Poke with a knife a couple times before baking to prevent a squash-festooned oven. After the squash cools, it's easy to scoop out the seeds, peel it, and break into large pieces. You can refrigerate the cooked squash for a few days before using, or freeze it. 

Early stage of soup prep. Veggies have been sauteed, squash, broth, seasonings and chipotles added,
but the immersion blender has not been summoned.

In a stockpot over medium heat, saute minced onion, garlic, celery, and jalapeno in butter until golden. Use a food processor to do the heavy mincing. Add the roasted squash to the pot along with the whole dried chipotle peppers, the serrano (or Tabasco) sauce and the veggie or chicken broth. Reserve some broth to adjust thickness later. Cook for about 15 minutes til the chipotles begin to soften. Add salt, pepper, cumin and honey, if desired. If your squash is super sweet, you can skip the honey. But if you use serrano sauce, it's good to add a bit of sweetness to balance the vinegar in the sauce.

Now you have a big decision: to remove the softened chipotles or not? I removed them, but next time I won't.  Cooking the chipotle early in the soup prep and removing it before blending adds a whiff of chipotle flavor. Blending chipotles with the other ingredients would pack a more flavorful wallop. I like those wallops. Make sure your chipotles are stemless. It's OK if they have seeds. Need more info about chipotles? (Link includes a recipe for chipotle sauce.)

Now that everything is cooked, grab your immersion blender or a heavy-duty food processor. Immersion blenders are inexpensive and SO much more convenient in this circumstance. Blend ingredients right in the pot and add seasoning to taste. (serrano sauce, salt, etc.) 

When you're about ready to serve, stir in the cream, either half and half or heavy cream. You could even add sour cream. Once the cream is added, no more boiling. Place generous amounts of slivered roasted red peppers on top, along with a dollop of sour cream or chipotle sauce, if desired.

This soup is good for a few days refrigerated, and it freezes well for several months. 

I'm so fortunate to have all these peppers in my pantry or freezer—and for a couple months, in the garden. If you're not partners with a pepper maniac, you have other options:

OK. So you don't have him.

Some options if you lack listed ingredients:

• Roasted whole green chilies: Readily available in most groceries. For this recipe, you'll need 2 or 3  cans, minimum. 
• Serrano sauce: If you have access to fresh serrano peppers, consider making your own, or you could use a good quality hot salsa. We live in the sticks, so the concept of purchasing serrano sauce locally is remote. It's likely available in urban areas, and may definitely be purchased online. You may also substitute tabasco-type sauces, but in quiet careful amounts.



Canning serrano sauce. Pungent and delicious aromas and months
of tangy summer-tasting goodness.


• Chiptole peppers: These dried and smoked jalapenos are available at stores that have well-stocked Mexican food departments. 
• Jalapenos: I seed and slice jalapenos to freeze as we have multitudes in the garden. I wish we had more! Grocery store jalapenos are green and available year round. They're ok, but red are way better. Remove the seeds, unless you're after big heat. They're usually not very hot sans seeds, but even then, they add deep peppery flavor.

This is a terrific soup, which with quesadillas or another Mexican-themed side dish and a green salad, could easily make a company-worthy vegetarian meal. Go for it!

Time is .... too short.

My mother, LaVone Strube, in late 1916.

In response to Facebook birthday greetings on the occasion of my 67th freaking birthday,  I posted something like "another year down the drain" in addition to acknowledging that I had an outstanding year. Well wishers shot back au contraire comments such as:

• Down the Drain?? I prefer to look at it as "Another EPIC year filled with amazing times with family and friends, music and art, great food and wine, in the most beautiful part of the world.
• Not down the drain; in the treasure chest of memories!
• We only have now. Live, love, and grow.

I can't argue with any of these sentiments. It WAS an epic year. I DO have a treasure chest of memories. I AM acutely aware that we only have NOW and not to waste a moment—to live, love, and grow.

But I'm not retracting the "down the drain" comment. Where does time go? Well, it doesn't go anywhere. The present just IS, and the past just ISN'T. It hurts my head and my heart to think about Time—with a capital T, which is something I've been doing since I turned 17 and saw my sweet 16th year vanish like the stupid tears I cried over my lost youth.

I continue to work through this issue, which is to be present in every moment, to enjoy the gift of life. I can't believe I've waded into this subject and keep getting dragged further into my own doubts, fears, internal conflicts, and cosmic questions. It's pathetic, really, to continue to grapple with the mystery of time. What's the point? The truth is I can't help myself.

Here's what I know. When I'm living in the present, time doesn't exist. I think that's true for most people. When I'm writing, gardening, dancing, doing yoga, and am engaged in life, the hours evaporate. Where have those seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, centuries gone? I get the sense that they converge into a whirlpool that circles somewhere in the universe and evaporate without ceremony. One thing I believe is true: the universe is cold and uncaring about us poor little people clinging to our moments.

My parents, Floyd and LaVone Strube, when they were young and beautiful newlyweds in 1936. He died at age 93. 

This morning I was with my mother, LaVone, who was 96 on January 1st. I followed her with a wheelchair as she used her walker to navigate the hallways at her assisted living home. She can shuffle along for 50 steps or so before she has to rest in her chair. Then we talk as she gathers strength for the next 50 steps. She shook her head and said with a wry smile, "I am still your perky mother, but I can't  believe I'm so old. I can't believe I'm in a wheelchair." She pointed to her ears, which have failed her, and her eyes, which are going fast. "I never thought I'd be like this," she tells me.

But she doesn't complain. LaVone and I don't discuss time in any way other than personal linear measurements. Her life, my life, the lives of our loved ones. We're born, move forward in time, then we die. In the scope of the universe, and with all those colliding protons driving physicists to distraction, our individual lives mean little or nothing .
As we grow older, we realize, gut level, that life won't last forever, but we cling to it anyway, grasping at seconds.


My toddler grandson has no concept of Time, and is the perfect model for Be Here Now. The Moment is all he knows, and all he needs to know. Too bad he'll forget it before he rediscovers, like my mother, that the present is all we have.  

LaVone and great-grandson Noah in late 2011. She's almost 96. He'll be two in June. 

I did a little research into time. Turns out that, surprise!, it's been a hot topic  throughout the ages, debated and dissected by religious practitioners, philosophers, scientists, and everyday people. Basically, it boils down to the linear view or the circular view. Christians, Jews, and Muslims tend toward the linear. (Can you believe we all seem to agree on something!?) Time has a beginning and an end. Eastern religions tend toward the circular. Time repeats.


Whatever. I'll go with the It's a Beautiful Day lyrics to their great song, Time Is, which starts like this:

Time is too slow for those who wait
And time is too swift for those who fear
Time is too long for those who grieve
And time is too short for those that laugh.

I have so many memories about that song. But the dominant one is the last: My father died in November 2006, and in March 2007, I took my mother on a Princess cruise, a first for us both. I loved being on a ship that was plunging through deep troughs. One sunny but windy afternoon I plugged into my iPod and walked/trotted around the deck. Time Is came on and I began to run and leap with ocean spray in my face and the ship bucking and diving. Time is too short for those that laugh.
Keep on laughing, and don't think too much about those fleeting but precious moments between when you exist and when you don't.

Southwest Turkey Stew

Southwest turkey stew topped with a drizzle of serrano sauce and a chiptole pepper on the side. 

I'm not sure the difference between soup and stew. I think because this dish requires boiling a turkey carcass with onions, garlic, and celery, it qualifies as "stew." Also, it is more substantial than I think of soup as being. Whatever. It is fabulous. As always in my menu suggestions, improvise with what you have on hand. Let's start with a turkey carcass,


Making turkey stock—the base for any great turkey soup, stew, or gravy.
Plunk that carcass and leftover drumsticks, wings, or whatever into a large stock pot. Do NOT cover with water, but add about 3 or 4 inches of water, one large cut-into-eights onion, several stocks of rinsed and quartered celery, four large cloves of quartered garlic. (If you're making a turkey soup NOT leaning toward the southwest, add rosemary and thyme to the stock pot.)
Cover the pot and boil. Turn the bones a few times. After about an hour, turn off the heat and remove the solids to a colander over a pan to catch the drippings. When the carcass is cool enough to handle, strip the meat from the bones and discard stuff you wouldn't want to eat: gristle, fat, bones, slime, etc. Drain all the juices back into the stock pot. Set the meat aside. Discard the large chunks of celery and onion. Mash the garlic cloves.

SW turkey soup ingredients - serves four to six
One to one-half carton chicken broth
2-3 cans diced green chilies (I have the luxury of chilies (frozen) from the garden. )
1 can kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can corn, drained
1 can green enchilada sauce (larger size)
1 cup brown basmati rice, added about 45 minutes before you want to eat (or other rice)
1 qt. pkg. frozen green beans, cut into 1/2 inch lengths (great way to use your frozen produce)
1 can (about 8 ounces) El Pato salsa de chili fresco. (Or use leftover prepared salsa or pepper sauce)
3-4 whole dried chipotle peppers (available at markets catering to Hispanic palates, or upscale markets in cities, or maybe you're lucky enough to have your own.)
serrano (or other moderate pepper sauce) to taste
smoked salt to taste

Cook until rice is done and beans are tender. Add turkey to heat through. Taste and add smoked salt if needed. Serve with chipotle sauce or sour cream mixed with salsa or serrano sauce on the side. The chipotles cooked with this dish are meant as flavoring. They lend a great smoky peppery taste, not necessarily hot. But eating one is another story. Consume at your own risk!

The BEST quesadillas
One tortilla per person:
1 hand-made style corn tortilla from La Tortilla Factory
grated cheddar or other cheese
cut-up jalapeno or sweet pepper
cut-up sweet onion
good quality salsa or pepper sauce
cilantro for garnish

Pre heat oven to 350
Use a pizza pan, one with holes, if possible. Smear tortillas with salsa or pepper sauce. Sprinkle tortillas with cut up onions, peppers, and cheese.
Heat in oven for 10-12 minutes or until cheese is melted and onions are fragrant.
Top with cilantro, if using.
Cut into quarters. Don't fight over them!

Thanksgiving—Can We Make the Moment Last?

We're a ridiculously festive group at Thanksgiving.  But could we have this much fun every week or two? 
Steve Lambros photo.

Just before turkey day, I met a Columbian woman at an upscale women's consignment shop.  Somebody wished me a happy Thanksgiving, and I responded enthusiastically. The Columbian overheard my gushing and wanted more info. I told her that my family and friends were planning three days, three nights at a remote rented ranch in Southern Oregon, where we would endlessly feast, play games, and party. This got her attention.

Fine-feathered Ferron presents his fabulous fowl.
Steve Lambros photo.

This is what we do in Columbia! she exclaimed. Except we do this every week, not just for special occasions! Upon questioning, it came pouring out that Colombians, at least in her family, live differently than we do. They start work between 8 and 9 a.m., retreat for several hours in the afternoon, return to work around 5 or 6 p.m. and stay til 9 p.m., then they go out for dinner! Families congregate to feast and party most every weekend. The culture, she told me, is geared to the notion that life revolves around family and friends, not around work. Kids are included, and so are old people.

Spirited game of pole bangin' ensues while another group plays baci ball during Thanksgiving weekend.
Steve Lambros photo.

We work to LIVE! Not live to WORK like you Americans!
She said that numerous family members migrated to the USA to attend top-flight universities, but returned with advanced degrees to gratefully live and work in Columbia to be near their families and resume their "work to live" family-centered lifestyles.
You people are crazy! she said. Way too much work without enough enjoyment. She also related, after my questioning, that old people are cared for within the family. Old people don't live alone, and we don't have those retirement homes! she sputtered.
So. I have just returned from that three-day Thanksgiving celebration, which was as wonderful as anticipated. As one of the "family" wrote:

I am always in awe of the unscripted synergy and harmony of this group of diverse, single-minded, creative, intelligent, philosophically quizzical, spiritually hungry and purposeful livers of life. . . .From the bounty of the barnyard, gardens, river and culinary inspiration of the chefs, the endless varietals (homegrown especially) and brews to be enjoyed, the innumerable dance moves (and lack thereof...) to the seamless prep and unscripted cleanup teams, this annual gathering is AMAZING!!!!!!

Ok. There's no question that Thanksgiving is fabulous in general and especially for this group. But could we celebrate in like fashion every week or so?
Yes. We could.
But does the fact that we can't due to geographic distance and obligations mean that our priorities are screwed up and we are living to work not working to live?
No.
I believe that we, and another 20 or so friends and family who were not present, are tuned in to the way of life described by the Columbian. Not that a lot isn't screwed up in the USA. 

We who are retired, or close to it, live a different reality than our kids. We're at least financially stable. We have health insurance. We have pensions and promise that we won't be destitute in our dotage. We have worked hard for decades, but don't feel it's been in vain. 

Our youthful family and friends have no such assurances in a hyper-competitive work culture where job benefits disappear as jobs migrate out of the country. However! They're better off than many of us were at their age. Our two sons certainly are way farther ahead of the game than PK and I were around age 30. The young people we know are fortunate, for sure.

 Mother and son dance action in an accidental triple exposure. Party down!

I'm sure the Columbian idealizes her culture. But I'm also sure she doesn't realize that many of us in the crass and work-crazed USA  have forged friendships and families to ensure that Thanksgiving isn't an oasis as much as a model for multiple gatherings throughout the year. Not every week, perhaps, but we're already planning for the next great time. Our young people can't join us as often as we'd like, because they do have to work and raise their kids and so on—and they live too far away—but I'm confident that we're setting a great example for how to proceed once roots are established and a foundation is set.

Acting goofy on a hike in the hills around Whisper Canyon Ranch, Thanksgiving 2011..

 All I can say is that when I gave thanks at Thanksgiving, I really meant it. And on and on it goes.