M ~ Make it Yourself! #atozchallenge

All Aboard! "It's Very Swedish..." a train on a cultural journey through Sweden, exploring the differences big and small between American and Swedish culture.

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I feel like I'm letting you down on the whole childhood pictures thing, so I went on a quest for you today.  It was a quest through four photo-albums, with a completely different agenda than when I first wrote the title to this post back in January.

I was going to talk about scratch cooking, but we've really covered that topic quite thoroughly, so I thought I'd keep the title, but share some of the things that I've made, or helped make, or had made for me.

Some of these were made when we still lived in Sweden, but some are from after we moved to the US.  I guess my cultural comparison point is that it's the family that makes the difference, not the culture.  I have a lot of American friends whose moms made all their clothes and cooked from scratch, and some who did not.

Some of my Swedish friends had all store bought clothes, some did not.  One common thread (pats self on back for clever metaphor) is that knitting and crocheting have been a part of my life and the lives of my friends in both my countries.  That makes this a, "I guess we're a lot alike in a lot of ways, too!" post. Enjoy the pictures.  May my siblings not kill me...

This is Farmor, with about 1/8 of DataBoy, rolling out the dough for the buns from the B post, with Swissie in the background, working on something else.  We baked a lot with Farmor. She was infinitely patient.

This is me baking with Farmor, I'm guessing the summer I was either 14 or 16, because it's Farmor's kitchen, but I'm older than when we lived there. Notice we're still making buns...told you a lot of them were made.

What do you do when you're crazy about horses, but can't have one?  Make your own, out of the swing set. Notice we're riding horses NOT swinging.  Joachim is banished to the stable for some crime I no longer remember.  The Swede helped us build the stable. (Yes, I'm in the red shorts.)

I'm in the blonde braids (surprise) and that's my best friend Ann-Charlotte, 2 magical years older than me, and our neighbor across the backyard.  It's her little brother, my age, who was banished to the stable. She taught me a lot about sewing, and we're making doll clothes.  Note the hanging bibs we made.  Of course I copied hers...though you'll notice her embroidery is better.

Ann-Charlotte's mom made her those groovy overalls, and I had to have some, so The Nutritionist, who could also go by The Seamstress (she made me almost all my nightgowns and dresses and bathrobes of my childhood), made me a matching pair. (That's Swissie between us.)

Here's one of the bathrobes she made me.

Here's something *I* made.  I knit this teddy bear, with lots and lots of help from Farmor, and then she sewed it together for me, but I did the knitting.  I still have it.  Yes, I save too many things.

Not sure how old I am in this picture, but it's at least fifth grade, which is when Swissie got her cat, Pippi, as in Longstocking, by famous Swedish author Astrid Lindgren.

Did you learn crafts growing up? Who taught you?  Do you still craft?

~Tina, dying to procrastiknit, but has way too much to do...procrastination will have to wait...

©2014 All Rights Reserved

All photos taken by family members.  Probably Momarazzi...

How to Survive The Broncos Being Crushed by the Seahawks, graciously...

I'm very disappointed in the outcome of Superbowl XLVXIII. I'm a long-time Bronco fan -I switched from my Washington Redskins (growing up in that area) not long after moving to the Denver in 1983. (When they crushed The Broncos 42-10 in Superbowl XVIII I knew they needed more fans.)

The first step to survival is to be a gracious loser. I've already responded to Seattle fans I'm close to with a congratulations. I am not blaming anyone in particular on my team for the loss. I am not blaming the referees. I'm not really blaming anyone. It's football. One team is better than the other and they win the Superbowl. Congrats Seattle fans, your team played well and deserve the win. Your defense truly is amazing, and that guy (#11?) with the Despicable Me skinny legs can run really fast.

Another way to survive a loss this bad is to endure it with friends. We were all crushed, but we were together, and the food was fabulous. In fact, to console myself I'll be sharing a recipe at the end, a la my good friend (and minion!) Jo, of Jo Food, My Travels, and a Scent ofChocolate.

When you're with friends, you can be yourself. You can yell and scream and swear (sorry Mom and Dad, but it really helps me in the dealing with the loss part...) You can communicate with just a look. You can stuff yourself silly with good food and libations.

We had it all: two kinds of gourmet chips, fresh salsa, veggie tray with interesting veggies instead of the boring normal. We had Snow White tomatoes, the ones we call “poppers”! We had 7 layer dip – one of my all-time favorite dips and such a treat. Our hostess, who is a wonderful cook and gardener made an amazing pork stew.

I contributed Baked Potato Bites, the recipe Jo had shared.

Contributed by Patricia, serves 12

Comforting and filling for game day, yet elegant enough for the dressiest dinner party.

Ingredients

2 ½ pounds baby red potatoes, cut in half

1 tablespoon olive oil

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

6 slices bacon

1 cup sour cream

½ cup mayonnaise

4 small green onions, trimmed, sliced thin

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

½ cup chopped flat leaf Italian parsley

Directions

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

1. Toss potatoes in oil, salt and pepper in a bowl. Place a single layer on a baking sheet. Roast 20-30 minutes or until potatoes are tender and lightly browned. Set aside to cool.
2. Cook bacon to desired crispness; chop into small pieces. Set aside.
3. Blend sour cream, mayonnaise, half of the green onions, shallot, parsley, bacon, and cheese in a bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
4. Place roasted potato halves on a large platter. Top each potato half with with a large dollop of the sour cream mixture. Sprinkle each with chopped bacon and sliced green onion.
5. Leave remainder of sour cream mixture in a small bowl for extra toppings.

Here's the picture Jo included.

Here's how mine looked. 

 I decided to let each person top their own. I saved a little of the bacon (because I cooked a whole pound, not just 6 slices.) The huge bowl of cheese is OYT's “one cup” of shredded cheese. We served what we didn't use in the mixture...

As to serving size, there were four of us. 3 potatoes were left.

Thanks, Jo, for the recipe.  I think I'll have those three left-over ones for breakfast...just got the newspaper.  Sigh.

~Tina

Monstrous Monday Blog Hop!

Monsters. There are scary monsters, silly monsters, classic monsters, imaginary monsters. I'm going to write about the monster that stalks me daily. Let's see if you can guess who it is.

My monster has the power to alter what I see in the mirror. I get a skewed picture.

My monster makes me think about it every waking second of every day. I cannot escape. Ordinary tasks, ordinary events of the day take on epic proportion as I battle it. It's the center of my universe, and likes it there.

If I try to hide, it finds me.

It finds me in jeans that are a bit tight.

It finds me questioning every bite of food I put in my mouth.

It whispers in my ear that I can finally have back what I haven't had in so long.

Control.

It sings a siren song of solution to all my troubles.

If only I were thinner, then...

I might not have high blood pressure

I might not have asthma

He might pay more attention to me

I'd be able to get more done

I wouldn't be depressed

I wouldn't be in pain

I'd...

It's all there, all for the taking, if I just take back the control. It's really about control, and not so much about food.

Have you guessed?

Anorexia.

I was never a cook. I mean, when all you eat in a month is maybe one piece of plastic wrapped American cheese from your roommate's shelf in the fridge, why bother learning sauteing or double boilers or how to soft-boil an egg you'd never let past your lips?

I'm different now. I love to cook. I love to eat. I'm healthier, recent asthma bout not counting. This is the body that climbed the fourteener. This is the body that rode the MS 150 from Denver to Canyon City. (That's 150 miles away, just by way of explanation.) This body carried two high risk pregnancies.

So what's my problem? Anorexia is like alcoholism. You can be a behaving anorexic, or an active one. I'm behaving. But on those days when the jeans are a little tight and life is a bit out of control (those high risk pregnancies are now two teenage boys) I long for the control. The euphoria of extreme hunger and the will-power to overcome it.

I know it's hard to understand unless you've walked the road yourself. But it's an evil monster, and when you see it stalking those you love, it puts you on alert. Moms – please don't ever mention weight to your daughter no matter what. Praise her for her wonderful qualities, let her eat what she wants, and remember that one CarelessWord can start a cycle that will never end.

Ok, probably not the sort of monster you were expecting, but you can visit Tim Brannan at and get all the info. Meanwhile, it's a blog hop, so hop on over to one of the other participants you'll find on the list below.