Crusts and Crumbs: Beggar's Chowder

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Beggar's Chowder

So this past Saturday my sister and I had a garage sale. Since things were so busy getting ready Friday night, I just tossed some chicken in the crockpot and used one of my recipes from my Crockpot Cookbook. It was called Beggar's Chowder. Basically you season up some chicken legs, cook them in broth for a while, then add some veggies and cream and shred up the chicken and there you have it! The first night we ate it as a soup, but with the leftovers we had it over rice. All very yummy!

PS- the notable increase in photo quality is due to the fact that I discovered that my husband has Photoshop! So, now I can edit my photos.

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Change.

Understand, I don’t intend to stop posting recipes completely. I still love cooking, and sharing that love with others. But I’ve also always enjoyed writing, and have recently rediscovered that dusty love. I feel like digging it out of the attic, and giving it a bit of a polish. I’ve been inspired by other bloggers, by their
daily grit and grind that they share with the world. By their faith and tenacity as they plod through life. I feel like taking advantage of the flexibility of a blog, and writing what I feel like, when I feel like it. The crusts and the crumbs of my life. A recipe today, a remodel post tomorrow, a reflection on parenting next week. I face a wide open space, waiting to be
filled with whatever I desire. And I like that challenge.

Me.

Much of my writing will never even see the light. It will never make it past the parchment of my mind, where it is scribbled in invisible ink for me alone. But some of it does. That bit is what is written here. Humbly posted for the world to see, if it cares, or to ignore if it doesn’t.
I’m not a spotlight kind of girl. I’m shy, and quiet, and a bit reserved. Oh, I like a good razzing between friends, and a spirited board game with the best of them. I love hosting friends and family and cherishing moments together.
But at my soul, in my heart of hearts, I’m a quiet evening with my man, fire blazing, hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea kind of girl. That’s when I’m most blissful.
So, I don’t write for a spotlight, imagined or otherwise. I don’t write for others. I write for me. If not a single person (besides my soul mate-we’re bonded as one, so he counts as me) reads this blog, I’d be just as satisfied in writing it as if a thousand had read it.Which is good, because a thousand people definitely
won’t be reading this. No, I write because there is an itch in my soul. An urge, somewhere deep inside of my being, to craft my thoughts into words and inscribe them, preserve them, and make meaning from them. It brings me peace to take the whirling dervish in my mind and put him to rest.