Foodies- Recipe for Healthy French Toast

I am a big breakfast person.  Mom always raised me with the old adage, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day", and I took it to heart.  After waking up from a night's sleep, it is crucial that we replenish the body's fuel and give it the energy it requires for the long day ahead.  Its easy to get stuck in a rut as far as early morning menus go- the old standby of cereal and toast can get boring fast.  Another concern for many is calorie counting- although I am a believer in firing up the metabolism early in the day regardless of how caloric the meal is.  When I was pregnant with my son, my eating habits underwent some strange changes, fueled by hormones and the usual pregnant-lady cravings.  What I ended up eating, every single morning for 9 months and even to this day, is French toast.  The ingredient list is short but each item is healthy, and recently I've added bananas to the mix to provide flavor and protein.  I believe that eating healthy should not be a chore or something to dread- I feel that it can and should be delicious.  So, this is my recipe for the Breakfast of Champs- Banana French Toast. 

Ingredients:

(1) Whole wheat sliced bread (1-3 slices)
(2) 1 egg (check for organic, free-range, hormone-free)
(3) 1/3 banana, smashed to a pulp
(4) 1/2 tsp wheat germ
(5) 1/4 c. almond coconut milk
(6) 1 tsp cinnamon
(7) 1/2 tsp vanilla
(8) 1 tsp powdered sugar

Directions:

(1) In a bowl, beat the egg. Blend in all ingredients except bread. 

(2) Set frying pan on high heat for 2 minutes, then lower to medium, and spray pan with cooking spray.

(3) Dredge a slice of bread through the batter on both sides, then place in frying pan.  Flip the bread frequently.  Evenly brown on both sides.

(4) Dredge the next slice of bread through batter mix, and fry in the pan.  Remember to flip frequently to avoid the bread becoming overly-browned.   

(4) Serve sprinkled with a dusting of powdered sugar and garnish with raspberries.  Tastes even better with a mug of hot tea. 

8/29/05- The Wake of the Storm

Mom checking out the damage
 

Our next door neighbor's backyard

One of the many trees that landed- this is our neighbor's roof

New meaning to the word "treehouse"

Welcome to the Jungle- me & Marius

 

 

 

Yes, its that anniversary again.  That day when the glass globe of our world was flipped viciously backwards, and the bedrock of our lives shaken to the core, all the fragments whirling around us like snowflakes in that globe of glass we felt was shatterproof.  Katrina devastated us 9 years ago.  Its the question that locals ask- "Where were you when the storm hit?"

 

Everyone goes through at least one life-changing event at least once in their life, and if they are lucky and blessed, once is the only time they have go through the painful process of having their world turned upside-down.  It is the way we experience one of the biggest losses of all- the loss of faith.  The feeling that we felt we knew our world and its boundaries and felt a sense of being invincible, protected, safe from the unknown- like the proverbial fact that kids don't understand the concept of their own mortality.  Then a storm hits, and destroys our world and our security, and everything is obliterated, flattened to the ground, the fatal blow. 

 

My own personal story from the storm- Covington, LA.  Nightmares a few days before, a portent.  Uneasy flashes of instinct.  Strange weather patterns, and a purple sky the night before.  Just us girls- me, Mom and Marius.  The power blinked out at 4:45 a.m. The next 7 hours were the enactment of a horror story.  Towering pines on both sides of the house falling silently like matchsticks.  The howling wind and the pelting water.  Huddled in the living room, too scared to retreat to the bathtub because it was as dark and claustrophobia-inducing as a crypt.  Time was suspended as we waited and waited.  And waited.  Towards the end of the longest day ever, the house shook as though hit by a giant, and that God-awful "freight train" sound gathered and struck.  It was one of the giants, a pine tree that was knocked down and landed on the house.  Thank God it only took out the corner of the house and not the middle.  My bedroom bore the brunt of the strike.  We walked down a quiet hall and were surrounded by a fresh pine smell.  One look into my room showed us the evidence- no ceiling left, branches and pine needles occupying the small space, the light blown out and in shards on the floor.  But- thank God- that was all.  Compared to so many, MANY others out there, one room out of the entire house was a small loss to suffer. 

 

The next two and a half weeks were grueling.  No electricity.  No generator.  Dead heat of a Deep South summer.  The street completely blocked by fallen limbs, giants that stretched from one end of the road to the houses and beyond, tangled in electric wires.  An unnatural quiet hovering, but thankfully a neighbor threw out an old bbq grill and we claimed it and were able to cook on it.  The morning cups of tea and coffee Mom brewed on that old grill never tasted as good before or since.  We had running water- another amen moment- and were able to take baths, so we didn't make a complete break from civilized life.  The Guard arrived, and we went with gratitude to wait in the line and get our car loaded with MREs.  Insane lines for gas, and prices yanked sky-high for yet another staple that we took for granted in the world "before".  Dead heat of the nights, no a/c, feeling smothered by the total darkness beyond our doors, and the incredible heat sitting like a weight on our skin.  The rhythmic panting of Marius was the only sound in that complete and scary silence.  Mom had a handheld little paper fan that she waved over me and our dog, to help us sleep.  She was the angel in that nightmare- her optimism in the face of all the ugliness was a force to be reckoned with. 

 

This new world without cell phones, computers and t.v.s was overwhelming indeed.  We were frantic to know how friends and family were doing, but the texting capability was slow going.  It was a vast relief when the texts slowly trickled in and everyone checked in when they could.  Other than those slow messages from the void, no communication with the outside world- but again, a blessing in the form of radio.  We followed that radio's broadcasts the way the folks back in WWII days followed it- the one and only source of information.  A voice in the lonely and frightening darkness, a beacon back home in a world that had lost all sanity.  A kind neighbor stopped by with Popeyes chicken, and fear-inducing stories of looters and villains crossing the lake- by foot- determined to rob everyone blind and kill us all in our (fitful) sleep.  We accepted the meal with boundless gratitude, and rejected the stories, praying he was wrong or misinformed.  You see, our faith was gone, so in this new and strange world, anything was possible. 

 

Life took its slow, painstakingly slow, turn back to normalcy.  But it was a long and difficult battle.  Everything had to be rebuilt, from the ground-up in some cases. 

 

We survived the storm, and everything slowly and gradually returned to a normal that we could understand and feel some return of security with.  Although "normal" will never be the same again- it has been redefined across the board.  And this day- August 29- will forever be "the anniversary".  Like the end of a relationship- the one we have with our faith.  But God smiled on us, in so many ways, and saved us from the storm.  He kept us in the palm of his hand, and when the towering trees were splintered and shredded like mere toothpicks, all around us, our God kept us from the eye of the storm.  We lived through it.  We were here to rebuild.  God willing, our faith will never falter again, and God will continue to keep us safe and sound through the storms of this fragile glass globe of life.  And while we say our prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving, we pray from the bottom of our hearts for those who did not survive; who lost family and friends, and beloved pets; who suffered such loss that they had to rebuild from the foundation of their lives on up; for those who fled the path of this vicious storm, and returned thinking they would have a home to come back to, but were struck with the "new reality".  We all share this tragedy together, and your pain belongs to us because we are family.  New Orleans- and Covington, and all the surrounding area- is home.  During these horrific times, we bond together, reluctant siblings that understand we share this pain and this world, soldiers in the same war.  That makes us family.   

 

 

Herakut, and the art of Magic Realism

Herakut, as defined according to Wikipedia:

 

Herakut is the name of a two-person team of German street artists specializing in murals. Jasmin Siddiqui, or "Hera," and Falk Lehman, "Akut," call themselves graffiti artists, most of their work is commissioned; smaller Herakut works have also been exhibited more formally in galleries. They have also released two books: The Perfect Merge and After the Laughter, which are retrospectives covering 2004-2009 and 2009-2011, respectively.

 

 

 

 

 I don't hold any special claims of being an art critic of any kind.  I took the requisite art history classes in college, and have always had an appreciation for "good" (read: talented) art.  I have always been of the school "All art is unique, and if someone puts forth the effort to do something the rest of us didn't think of, or were incapable of doing, that is art."  I've always had the deepest respect for art from all walks of life: the classic, the surreal, those artists who graduated from art school, and those who (incredibly) are self-taught and making a living from what they are doing.  One thing I can bring to the table- because its not artistic talent- is an appreciation for the art that others are capable of creating.  What I feel qualifies me to critique art is the knowledge of what makes my heart skip a beat and what awakens my soul.  This insanely talented couple named "Herakut", does both. 

 

Herakut could teach the rest of the art world a lesson in humble beginnings, dedication, and remaining true to your heart's messages.  They are self-professed "graffiti artists" but that simplistic and self-deprecating handle seems completely unfitting to the gorgeous power of their detailed, incredible work.  I don't know the entire story behind their art, or what fuels their inspiration, but their messages are truly universal.  It is at times dark and sinister; at others, whimsical and childlike; and always thought-provoking.  It lives and breathes on the walls and canvases.  It is a reminder of hope in this dark mad world.  You can practically envision a silver lining on each and every art piece. 

 

 

 

 

I have always gravitated towards the movement of art known as "magic realism"- the technique that combines mystical, magical themes in the everyday world.  Herakut seems to ascribe to this particular art, with its themes of winged creatures, monsters, angels and demons, innocence and street smarts. 

 

 

 

The best art makes you question the world around you, connects you to the universe and establishes an emotional response in the viewer.  I would have to say that Herakut succeeds in all of the above.  The eyes gazing out of their murals, the tenderness of the mother embracing her baby in the shot below, and the vivid brushstrokes in each and every piece, all convey a message that is truly universal to one and all.  They are people living in a parallel world, a reflection of ours somehow.  They make their audience dream a little brighter and bigger. 

Summer List

One of the ways I keep track of my everyday life as a busy mom and blogger- is to handwrite a to-do list.  This summer has been a super-busy one, and its not over yet!  Here is a transcription of what I plan to accomplish in my corner of the world as we approach the end of the long hot Dog Days of Summer...

(1)  Schedule an appointment for a haircut for myself at the end of August- this will be the chance to try a different style before the holidays arrive.  It will also allow the chance for it to grow out before Christmas!

(2)  Find a pair of Converse high-tops for Nate.

(3)  Plan a trip to the beach- Nate's very first Gulfcoast adventure.

(4)  Plan a return trip to Longue Vue Gardens- they have a summer program for the little folks called "Kinder Garden" and its a great opportunity to make new friends and get back in touch with nature.

(5)  Pick up our family portraits from Penney's; share with family & friends.

(6)  Plan an autumn garden- marigolds, autumn herbs.

(7)  Go to Storyland and ride the carousel horses.

(8)  Plan a photo shoot of everyday scenes during the summer- bare feet, wanderings, Beau drinking from the hose, the sunset after a storm. 

(9)  Visit the dogs during the next animal rescue event. 

(10) Indulge in shallow novels- make this summer's reading list a travesty in the lighthearted.

(11) Plan a camping trip.  For now, while on a time and money budget, practice camping in our own backyard- put up old sheet tents and listen to the crickets and frogs calling to one another. 

(12) Fill the kiddie pool up and lay out with a magazine and a cold glass of ice tea.

(13) Teach Nate how to run through the sprinkler.  Giggles guaranteed.

Summertime is a difficult time of year here in the south, due to the high humidity (steam room, anyone?), the soaring temps, and the short tempers that result from both.  Part of me longs to be outdoors enjoying this season and embracing that "fun in the sun" mentality; and the other part wants to run back indoors into the heavenly cool of the a/c, before the weather affects my hair AND attitude! The thing I try to keep in mind during these summer months is that they are fleeting, just like the rest of our lives, and as long as you don't mind getting your feet dirty, your hair frizzy and your mind open to adventures, it can be a lot of fun (albeit sweaty fun!).  Sometimes its good to get on eye-level with a child and open the door to the way things used to be before we grew up and the world handed us its expectations of perfection and politeness.  The biggest worry should be deciding what color to paint our nails since our bare toes will be making a 24/7 appearance.  Summer demands that we use our senses- the taste of snowballs and ice cream, the feel of mud beneath our bare feet, the way a storm breaks out and the smell of cool rain on hot pavement.  Maybe we need to suspend our own self-imposed demands long enough to be young and carefree, like the young children that still reside in our hearts.  We should visit that adventurous place in our minds, and focus on living from one moment, one day to the next.  Maybe its time to unplug from technology and get back to the days that didn't involve being "checked in" 24/7" with Facebook and Twitter and all the rest.  Mindfulness begins when you live in the Here and Now.  What better time to begin than these long hot summer months? 

 

Here's hoping that each of you takes the time to channel your Inner Child and throw stress and adult obligations to the wind, even for a brief time.  Happy Summer!

xoxo,
Zen Photographer