My grandparents on my dad's side moved to Arizona not long after I was born and, while they came to see us in the Chicago suburbs every summer, it was only a few times that our family was able to make the long trip west to visit them. Rummikub, tater tot casserole, fresh oranges and grapefruit from the tree in the back yard, swimming in the community center pool--these things prominently punctuate all of my memories of those trips. But the one tradition I replicate most often now in my own home is making big batches of Six-Week Bran Muffins.

I don't know how often my grandparents hosted such crowds in their home as our family of six, but every time we came out, my grandma would mix up her famous bran muffins. With a batter that can be stored in the refrigerator, the recipe resulted in hot muffins every morning to accompany freshly-picked citrus fruit. And it's a recipe equally suited to feeding a household of just one or two, since the batter will keep for up to six weeks.

It's a testament to my grandma's coming of age in the processed food era that the main ingredient in her version was a box of Raisin Bran. My tweaked version substitutes plain old wheat or oat bran and raisins for the cereal. But I do honor her thrifty ways by making this whenever I have a substantive quantity of sour milk in the refrigerator, which happens quite regularly since we participate in a local herd share program and get a half gallon of milk every week, whether we need it or not (though I have recently begun making homemade yogurt as well, which will cut down on the sour milk supply).

Here's my version of the recipe, with some alternate suggestions at the end. It's quite flexible and, now that fall is on its way, I'm sure I'll be mixing up batches even more often. I've enjoyed customizing muffins on the fly according to guests' preferences (no raisins? extra walnuts?) and making huge batches to fortify groups on work days at the Imagining Space project. And every batch is a good opportunity to remember my grandparents' legacy and how I'm attempting to carve out my own life of generosity and abundance in their footsteps.

Six-Week Bran Muffins

2 ¼ c. oat or wheat bran
1 c. raisins
Add extra raisins if you like
1 tsp. salt
3 c. sugar or 1 c. molasses and 1 c. brown sugar
5 tsp. baking soda
5 c. flour
1 qt. buttermilk or sour milk
4 eggs beaten
1 c. oil

Mix all ingredients together and store in the refrigerator. Make muffins as needed. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

More options:

• Leave out the raisins when you make the mix so that you can add whatever you're in the mood for (and have on hand) when you make the muffins--raisins, cranberries, walnuts, cherries, blueberries, almonds...


• Sprinkle flax seeds on top before baking.


• Substitute a cup of orange juice for a cup of the milk and include the grated zest of two oranges. You could also put a glaze on top--powdered sugar mixed with a little bit of o.j. and cinnamon.

Rob and I have a herd share with a local farming family, which means we get a half gallon of fresh-from-the-cow milk each week. Not wanting to wasted any of the precious stuff but also not always able to keep up with consuming it fresh, I've been experimenting with a lot of sour milk recipes. I actually got to the point a couple of weeks ago that I was sad to be out of sour milk when we were off work and using more fresh milk.

Here's one of my favorite ways to use up sour milk, adapted from a random pre-printed recipe card I picked up somewhere. These are a very light biscuit texture, with an interesting twist of cardamom.

Sweet Cinnamon Biscuits

1 c. white unbleached flour
1 c. whole wheat flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 c. oil
3/4 sour milk or buttermilk
4 Tbsp. butter, softened
1/3 c. brown sugar
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. cardamom

Combine flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda in a medium bowl and mix well. Stir in vegetable oil and milk. Stir until just blended.

Knead the dough briefly on a lightly floured surface. Roll the dough into a 15" x 8" rectangle.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly grease a 9" round baking pan.

Spread butter over the dough. Combine sugar, cinnamon and cardamom in a small bowl and mix well. Sprinkle over butter. Roll up rectangle, starting from one long side. Pinch seam to seal.

Cut the roll into 1 1/2" slices. Arrange the slices in prepared baking pan. Bake until lightly browned, about 15-20 minutes. Remove from oven and serve warm!

There's a virtual discussion going on right now at the High Calling blog about a book that I have an essay in called The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Fasting and Feasting Toward God. It's a very neat collection that I'm still working my way through, like a bar of good dark chocolate!

I was super crunched for time when they requested a recipe to go with my essay and I tried to submit one for tomato soup, but they already had a similar one, so I ended up going with the uber-simple option of Grilled Zucchini. If I'd had more time to think and experiment, here's the one that I wish I could have submitted. I cooked this one up in the first week of January when my creativity was being refreshed by a much-needed vacation.

Grown-Up Tuna Noodle Casserole

I grew up loving the old standby that was simply a combination of a bag of egg noodles, two cans of tuna and two cans of cream of mushroom soup. I would guess it's second only to green bean casserole in the Campbell's condensed soup recipe empire. Our family always had buttered bread and apple sauce on the side, with vanilla or butterscotch pudding for dessert (one of only two meals ever followed by dessert in our house--the other was chili and chocolate pudding).

This recipe may seem like it has a lot of steps, but you're basically preparing four different elements to combine and bake into creamy, comfort food goodness: noodles, garlic cream sauce, crumb topping and a combination of sautéed ingredients. It's well worth the effort! And unlike some other comfort food reproductions, it really does scratch the nostalgic itch of four cans and a bag of noodles, but with much higher quality ingredients and an herby, lemony twist. Enjoy!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Then, in a large pot of boiling, salted water, cook until tender:

• 8 oz. thick egg noodles (I like Amish-style noodles myself)

Meanwhile, in a large frying pan, sauté:

• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 16 oz. mushrooms, chopped
• 1 lg. clove of garlic, crushed
• ½ tsp. salt
• plenty of freshly ground pepper

When mushrooms are nearly cooked through, add and briefly sauté just until heated:

• 1 c. peas (fresh or frozen)
• 12 oz. white albacore tuna*

Transfer mixture to large casserole dish and wipe out frying pan to use for next step: bread crumbs. In the frying pan, combine and heat:

• ¼ c. olive oil
• ½ tsp. dried dill (or more if you really like dill)
• ¾ tsp salt
• 2 tsp. lemon juice
• 1 ½ c. bread crumbs**

Saute and stir frequently until bread crumbs are crisp and beginning to brown. Remove from heat and set aside. Next, you'll tackle the cream sauce. In a medium saucepan, melt:

• 3 Tbsp. butter

Then, whisk in until it forms a paste:

• 3 Tbsp. white unbleached flour

Be careful not to let the mixture brown. Add all at once and whisk into flour mixture:

• 1 ¾ c. warm milk

Bring to a boil. Add:

• 1 lg. clove of garlic, crushed
• Salt and pepper to taste

Lower the heat and stir while cooking 2-3 minutes more as mixture thickens, then set aside. Last step before combining everything to bake--prepare:

• 1 c. sharp cheddar, shredded

Now that you have all of your ingredients prepped, stir the cream sauce and noodles into the casserole dish with the tuna mixture. Top casserole with shredded cheese and then bread crumbs. Bake at 350 degrees until bubbly and cheese is melted.

* I used canned tuna in water, but you could also substitute other varieties of fish--even leftover salmon.

** I throw bread ends, pitas, rolls, etc. into the freezer any time we have extra and then I use an immersion blender to turn them into crumbs whenever I need bread crumbs.

For a loooong time, I've been wanting to figure out an alternative way to store the bulk coffee we brew at World Fare. However, with such tight margins all the time, we haven't been able to afford one way valve containers and I didn't want to use disposable vacuum seal methods. We've been re-using and re-using one pound bags that one of our volunteers brought in, but the zip-lock seals have been coming apart, which sort of defeats the purpose of the one-way valve bag. They've started to look pretty crummy, especially when they're held closed with paper clips.

But...TODAY I finally found a solution that I could make with items we have on hand. (Rob says he came up with it before, but I just wasn't in the right brain space to hear it then.) I took jars that we'd purchased some time ago from Global Infusion and, after cleaning them thoroughly, drilled small holes in the lids. I then cut out the one-way valves from the coffee bags we've been using and taped them inside the lids. Voila!

Thanks to this web page for the idea! (And also Rob. :)

My dad's mom passed away this week in Arizona and I won't be able to make it out to the funeral, but my thoughts, of course, have been there with my family all week. Here are some memories of my grandma that I sent over to my dad.

Rob and I have moved around quite a bit in the almost-ten years we've been married. Most of our possessions have found their way to us through thrift stores, garage sales, hand-me-downs, curb sides and dumpsters, so when we box up our lives, there are very few objects I'm overly concerned about packing well. Among those very few is a teapot Grandma Marge made for me in her ceramics studio.

Maybe it came from spending her formative years around so many men--her father, brothers, husband, sons--or maybe it came from having parents with deep roots in the sometimes dour world of Dutch Calvinism, but Grandma wasn't overly sentimental. And yet, her affections for her long-distance grandchildren found ways of coming through. I still remember the excitement of greeting her and Grandpa in the terminal in the days when such a thing was still possible. She'd be wearing white sandals with hose, an Arizona tan and all pastels. During her visits, she'd play with our hair and give an occasional hard squeeze or pinch on the cheek with her characteristic inside out laugh.

As Grandma and Grandpa grew older, so did I, and soon I was the one showing up on their doorstep with my overnight bag, ready to pick citrus fruit and play Rummikub, ready to enjoy tater tot casserole and bran muffins. On one visit, I admired the glaze on a set of ceramic coasters she'd made--a foggy blue gray misting over a brown background. Then, not too long after I returned home, I was browsing a thrift store when a set of four Chinese teacups caught my eye. They were lovely, but wanting for a teapot. I don't remember exactly how the conversation with Grandma went, but within a couple of months, a package quietly arrived containing a set of blue-gray ceramic coasters and a teapot to match.

This past spring, I unpacked my teapot to find its place in what will hopefully be our home for a long time: a second floor apartment above an 1865 storefront in Three Rivers, Michigan. The last time I talked with Grandma on the phone, she said she didn't think she'd be able to make it up the stairs to see our new place when she came to visit next. I doubted that was true, and told her so. I guess neither of us knew how very true it would be.

Over and over again, we humans prove true that even while we mark the deaths of our loved ones, they continue to live on in memory, in objects, in ways of being that make their ways through generations in both nature and nurture. In that sense, Grandma's here in our home every day; neither a cross country flight nor a flight and a half of stairs can get in her way. She and Grandpa watch over me from one of their wedding photos as I write at my desk; the massive flower bouquets and the ocean of a train on her dress are almost as big as their smiles. And of course, among the less tangible traits she's passed down to me through my dad, there's always the teapot, waiting to offer a hot beverage as a symbol of hospitality to our guests as they come in from the cold of a Michigan winter. And maybe some day, a cup of tea will be one of the concrete ways I demonstrate my love to my own grandchildren, along with laugh and a squeeze and a pinch on the cheek.

I'm consistently fascinated by acts of human culture that embody our deepest values in very practical, visible ways--not fascinated as an outside observer, detached in her analysis, but as a practitioner myself. Coming off a weekend conference about teaching Christian practices, my radar is especially tuned to such manifestations, which is in part why this quote from the magazine Dwell caught my attention. It's a very finely written tidbit from a small book review of Heavenly Vaults: From Romanesque to Gothic in European Architecture:

These buildings, some nearly a millennium old, are charged with the grandeur of God, as though their architects, suddenly doubting that it could be read in nature, decided to codify it in stone. The skyward vaults suggest their faith's holy order, the majestic possibilities of men working to glorify their creator, the intimation, the endurance of infinity.

One of the things we try to do each year with our students is help them see that, whether people claim to be religious or not, the things that hold deepest meaning for them (individually and as communities) come out in the ways they eat, the houses they build, the choices they make about their children, and so on. Architecture is the example we go to time and time again because it's such a powerful example in terms of its actual buildings, as well as its function as a metaphor. Add Heavenly Vaults to the reading list...

We have finally managed to move in to our apartment in Three Rivers! While much finishing work remains (trim, hanging doors, finishing windows, kitchen storage, etc.), we were able to move essential things into the space and begin staying overnight. How exciting!

A few weeks ago, we finished the floors--including painting the floor in the kitchen. As with so many steps along the way, it felt really good to have such a big piece of things finished. And it was fun to see how different elements we've been working on were finally clicking into place:

The furnace and ductwork were completed in the two weeks after the floor was finished; then our plumbing fixtures were installed. Last weekend we were able to turn our water on for the first time (with a pleasant whoosh!).

Moving our things in (and cooking!) started making the place feel like home:

As always, there are more photos available on Flickr.

Unfortunately, we recently had a number of things stolen from the basement of our building--which, of course, doesn't contribute to the sense of security home is supposed to have. Thankfully, the wonderful volunteers and board of World Fare have been very supportive as we deal with the consequences of the robbery.

On a happier note, it is wonderful to finally hang out in the place we hope to call home for a very long time. It's great to spend time in the space in non-work clothes, doing non-renovation activities; we felt we'd arrived the first time we walked on the floors in bare feet.

With the help of amazing friends and family, we moved out of our home of three years in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Thank you to everyone who helped (Kim, Chris, Kara, Ken, Gail, Michael, Alyssa, Dave, Julie, Cyndy, Duke and Beverly)!

Though the last several months at our house haven't been particularly enjoyable (given the circumstances), it was still difficult to leave. We figured out that this house was the longest place we've lived since we've been married. We'd done work in the yard--creating a stone border for flower beds; planting a rose of sharon twig and caring for it until it finally grew leaves and bloomed this summer--and lived life in the house, trying to be hospitable to friends, students and family. It's strange to still work in Grand Rapids and not be able to go to the house we called home since we moved here.

We are, though, looking forward to moving into our apartment in Three Rivers and calling it home for a long time. Unfortunately, it isn't quite ready yet, so we'll be relying even more on family and friends for shelter over the next several weeks. If all goes well, we should be able to move in to our new apartment in three weeks or so. More on the apartment progress soon ...

It's been a crazy summer for us here in Grand Rapids. Our housing situation went from stable to unstable to non-existent when the house we rent in GR recently sold before we were able to sign a lease through next summer. We have until August 21 to move.

We had already been planning to move back to Three Rivers next June (into the apartment we've slowly been renovating), so it didn't make much sense to us to find another place to rent in Grand Rapids for less than a year; the thought of finding a new apartment/house and then moving twice in 10 months was not a good option given our already-too-full lives. So we've decided to dramatically increase the pace of our renovation in an effort to finish our apartment in the next 3 weeks--a time frame which includes a week in Ontario for camping is not optional and a few Food Tour stops. Yikes.

I'll try to keep updating the blog with photos and descriptions of our renovation, but it's proving difficult to keep on top of everything going on right now. Your thoughts and prayers are needed and welcomed. Thank you to all of the folks who came out last weekend (including friends from TR, GR and my whole family from Chicagoland!) to help move things along ... you're all amazing and we're glad to have such a wonderful group of folks alongside us for this strange leg of our journey.

So lots of folks who are usually suspicious of big government conspiracy panics are perking up their ears lately and taking action regarding an impending bill that's currently in committee: H.R. 875, The Food Safety Modernization Act of 2009. The bill threatens, in the name of "food safety," to subject small farms and even garden hobbyists to the same rules as large agribusinesses, making organic and heirloom methods extremely difficult, if not illegal. Farmer advocate Alex Tiller (yep, that's his real name) has a good explanation of why this bill is significant, with links to LeaveMyFoodAlone.org, a web site set up specifically to explain the bill's dangers and help mediate our response to government officials through a petition. You can also read the full text of the bill and vote "yea" or "nay" at OpenCongress.org. Whether you do or don't support the bill after doing some of your own research, this is an issue worth looking into as individuals and as communities.