in the Kitchen

I used to teach Chemistry and Physics... now I make dinner. I used to wipe down lab tables... now I use baking soda to clean my bathrooms and kitchen counters. I used to edit and test lab demonstrations... now I fiddle with spices and make recipe changes.

So really, not a whole lot has changed.

Well, now an explosion/fire is NOT the desired result, but other than that, not a whole lot has changed.

I first learned to cook in my mom and grandmother's kitchens. I remember making my first apple pie when I was four... Mom would save the little pie holders from the Little Debbie single serve pecan pie snacks (when they still made those) and she would let me make a small apple pie when she made big ones. (When she taught us the alphabet, P stood for Pie, and being the great teacher that she is, she made us do "lab work" to really cement the concept... so we baked pies. Is it any wonder why I became a Chemistry teacher?) The apple pie recipe was never written down, but was simply passed down from grandmother to mother to me. To me, that apple pie recipe is such a part of my family history that we even had a few at our wedding reception!

Mom taught me the basics... how to boil water, the difference between making rice and making spaghetti, how to fry/scramble eggs, the fine art of cookie baking, how to make Chicken Cacciatore and, most importantly, how to follow a recipe. (We won't mention the time I accidentally used 1 cup of baking soda instead of 1 tsp. of baking soda in some bran muffins... oh wait, I mentioned it... oh, well.)

My first year of teaching, I had a housemate who was still in college. I would get home at 4:30, and she wouldn't get home until about 6. It was my job to make dinner so she would leave 4 ingredients on the counter and I would have to make a meal out of them. (Well, if one of the ingredients was chicken she wouldn't leave it on the counter... that would just be gross.) From these experiments, I learned a few things... mainly that with the right combination of spices, anything can taste good! (Well, not spoiled chicken... once again, gross.)

I've had a number of friends say to me that they could never be that brave in the kitchen so I thought on these "in the Kitchen" posts,  I would write about some of my favorite ideas/recipes that are easy to experiment with. (hmm... also realizing that I should probably start taking pictures of some of these things... this one might be boring for today.)

Eggplant Melts

3 basic steps to this recipe... Bread, Eggplant, Grilling.


Bread: 
I use the Honey Oat Beer Bread recipe found here. (I double the sugar and honey since we use strong tasting beer.) But really, any kind of bread would work. Got leftover Garlic Bread? Awesome. Sesame Seed Rolls? Great. Homemade Focaccia? Mmmm... focaccia...


Eggplant: 

• Slice a ripe eggplant into 1/4" - 1/2"thick rounds. (An eggplant is ripe if it is still firm but gives a little bit... the plant part at the top should be mostly green. If it is too mushy, it is starting to go real bad, real quick.)

• Dip into a well-mixed egg. (1 egg = 3 pieces of eggplant)

• Dip into breading mixture. (We like panko + basil + oregano. Store bought Italian Bread Crumbs? Why not. Beer batter mixture? Sure! Uncle Sal's secret recipe from the old country? I guess... if you have an Uncle Sal.) 

• Place eggplant on a slightly oiled cookie sheet and BAKE (yes, I said bake!) at 375F for 15 min. Flip and bake an additional 10 more min. (At this point, you can refrigerate these and use later.) (You can also pan fry your eggplant, but I find they get mushy if you try to refrigerate the slices later.)

Grilling: 
The grilling part is really just a fancy grilled cheese. Butter one side of two slices of bread and put cheese between them. But this time, also put a piece of eggplant in the middle! (To make the sandwich stick together, you will need a piece of cheese both on top and on bottom of the eggplant.) The following is our favorite combination:

• Colby cheese

• Eggplant

• Grated Parmesan

• Eggplant

• Colby Cheese

You can use any type of cheese you like. Then, we like to dip ours in a mayonnaise + pesto mixture. Seriously, yum. Other combinations? Marinara sauce. Spicy Mustard + Mayonnaise/Sour Cream/Yogurt. Indian Hummus. 

Don't like eggplant*? How about zucchini*? or squash? or broccoli?

*Helpful Translations for my British friends as well as those who are having a Dr. Who themed dinner... Eggplant = Aubergine. Zucchini = Courgette. 

Happy Experimenting!!

on Weeding

A lot has changed in my life... I'm no longer single, I no longer live in Africa or Cincinnati, I'm not legally a Connell anymore. But some things have stayed the same... I still like to play in the garden and a few "oak tree" friends have followed me into the marriage. 

Every Tuesday I visit with such a friend who owns a farm. (And by visit I mean we talk non-stop as we irrigate fields, build tomato cages and pull weeds.) She thanks me by filling a bucket full of veggies (which I have used to make cucumber relish, salsa verde, fried green tomatoes and bruschetta) but really, I do it to hang out with her. I only pretend to "do it for the veggies." 

Last Tuesday, we pulled weeds... lots and lots of weeds. (I've also pulled lots and lots of weeds from my new yard, but those are special weeds which will be blogged about in the future.) As we were pulling a tractor full of weeds (seriously, if you feel like you need more weeds in your life, become a farmer) I was learning things, a usual occurrence when I am working in the garden. Things about God, about myself and about where I'm supposed to be now. 

Here's the thing about weeds... they're actually plants. (I know, shocking!) Plants that have flowers, plants that reproduce in the usual plant like manner, plants that use chlorophyll to process sunlight. What makes a daffodil different than a daisy? Or a thistle different than a rose? ("This-tle!" she screams as she raises her fist in the air in memory of the battles fought and the victories both won and yet to be won.) Or crab grass different than ornamental grass?

"Plants give us fruit and vegetables!" you may shout, attempting to make your case for the superiority of plants over weeds. But I ask you this... if a volunteer tomato plant springs up in a row of watermelon, is it still a plant or has it become a weed? It is stealing nutrients from the watermelon plants, it is stealing water from the "purposely planted" plant, it is growing taller than the watermelon vine and shielding it from much needed sunlight... has the volunteer plant now become a weed? 

I say yes. 

It seems to me that the thing that makes a weed a weed is the fact that it's planted where it's not supposed to be planted. Sometimes this is fine... that day of weeding on the farm we came across a number of tomatillo plants that had "volunteered" in a row of zucchini that didn't survive the drought. We let those live since nothing else was trying to grow there. But the ornamental grass that was shading the cabbage and growing into the snap pea screen, we pulled up and I brought home and planted in a pot on my front porch. (Yes, I now have a "weed" growing in a pot on my front porch.)

So the insight that I offer today, as I am considering it on a daily basis, is where in my life am I planted and where am I just "being a weed?"

Schlatt's all Folks!

Yep, that's what it says. Yes, I'm claiming that. :)

I laughed out loud this morning... I logged onto my blog site to see if maybe I should start updating again and laughed at the fact that the title of my last blog before leaving Tanzania was "To be Known."  I wrote that post over a year ago as a single woman. I'm writing this new post sitting in an Ohio living room in the house I share with my new husband, more known than I have ever been in my entire life! (no, not like that... well, not just like that. I'm talking spiritually and emotionally, too here people. ;-)

So I think, yes... I will start blogging again. For many reasons... including the fact that I have a lot of things to think about as I do dishes, weed the garden and fold laundry. Yes, the blog will also be getting a facelift... and a new title. (Specifically because I'm not in Tanzania anymore.) New possible posts will include:

Ramblings
Poems
Recipes
Musings on Gardening
Spiritual thoughts
Gushings about my great husband
Frustrations
Fears
Euphemisms and Innuendoes

So here's to new paths to walk, new thoughts to think, and new blog posts to write. I'm not in Tanzania anymore, but I'm still trying to follow a big God who has lots of adventures planned. I'm not a single woman anymore, but I'm now a "we," an "us, " a "them."

Kate Connell has given way to Katie Schlatt.  It's time to see what she has to say.

To be Known

Throughout the course of this sickness, I've started to feel like I've lost myself somehow. At church, I was known as that girl who leads the praise team. At school, I was the loud teacher who likes to blow things up. And in public, I was that person at the movies who laughs out loud at scenes that nobody else thinks are funny. But I haven't sung a song since the first week of February, my students are taking most of their notes on their own out of a textbook, and I haven't laughed out loud without coughing since leaving the States over two months ago. Somewhere along the line, I became the quiet person who gives people a "2 Thumbs up" sign and smiles sweetly at things that are funny. People who are meeting me for the first time have never heard me sing and watch me nod or shake my head in order to be an "active" part of any conversation. When my principal asked for "last words" of encouragement to the other members of the teaching staff, I had to ask them all to lean in and listen closely.

Now, people aren't talking about my laugh or my voice or my "musical abilities." In my "Get Well Soon" and "Going Away" cards, they were saying things like, dedication to my students, great trust in the Lord and faith in God's promises. Not that they wouldn't have said these things before, but it probably wouldn't have been the first thing that came to mind. (At least it's never been mentioned as much as it was this time. :)

I think, in some ways, I have lost myself. I'm no longer the "loud, laughing, praise team leader." Now, I'm simply known as a Child of God.


But I think that's better.

Musings on Going "Home"

Muse, muse, muse... I'm only a few weeks away from leaving Dar for, what could be, a long time. And I am still trying to process it. As I organize filing cabinets, re-write curriculum maps and photocopy assembly music, I am listening to people say, "Kate, go home NOW. You can't breathe!" While that is true, I am also watching the faces of my 10th graders drop when I say, "Your exam is in a month, but I am leaving in 2 weeks," or listen to my 9th graders who so sweetly ask, "But will next year's teacher be as good as you?" To the people who want me to stay, I have to say, "I'm sorry but it will be better if I leave" and to the people who say "Leave now!" I have to say, "I'm sorry but it's better that I stay for a little while." To both I say, "Please pray that I can endure."

I am studying Hebrews with a group of women every other Monday night. Last week, we started a brief outline of the "Hall of Faith" Chapter... Hebrews 11. One of the things we talked about were the "rewards" for the faith of all of these people mentioned, and how they died without ever receiving the "promises." But yet, they endured. Our study concluded with the first few verses from Chapter 12... "Consider Jesus... who, for the joy set before Him, endured..." We talked about the point that the author was trying to make for the Hebrews who had and were enduring heavy persecution for their faith... the encouragement this message of promised rewards must have been. An encouragement to endure... because of the Home that awaited them.

My last few weeks in Dar have been and are a slow walk of endurance. (I say walk because there is no running for me right now.) Every day it is hard to breath. Every lecture I have to speak softly and pray the students in the back won't be too loud. Every moment I hope that the power stays on so that I can sit in the dry, air-conditioned air. But I will endure for two more weeks. Because there is still a job for me to do, students to teach, curriculums to map. Acts of service that were designed for me and that God is giving me the ability to complete. But I can endure for two more weeks... because I know that at the end of this is a plane ride, Dad-hugs, Mom-cooked meals, cuddles and movies on the couch with my sisters, and help. At the end of this is Home.

If there's a harder way...

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both, but being one traveler long I stood. And looked down one as far as I could... and I, I took the one less traveled by... and that has made all the difference."

-Robert Frost

Weekly dinner tonight with good friends. One, I hadn't told yet about leaving Tanzania early. She was shocked, as I was last week when I made the decision. But things aren't getting better... sometimes it feels like they're getting worse. Sometimes it feels like all I do is complain about my health. And sometimes, it feels like I am losing my mind because of the medication. It's been almost 6 months of injuries and sickness... 6 months of being envious of the PE classes as I watch them run by my office... 6 months of people praying for my health and healing.

And I'm still sick.

In a country where the Prosperity Gospel is prevalent and practiced, to tell people who have been praying for your healing that you are STILL sick can be embarrassing and confusing. And the response is always the same, "I'll keep praying, You just claim your healing." But at this point, I have started telling people to stop praying for my healing! If God wanted me healed, I would be healed. At this point, it seems like He has something else in mind. So people who want to pray for me, I've asked them to pray that I would be open and yielded to God... regardless of what He has planned. And people look at me funny.

It's not that I don't want to be healed, it's not that I don't believe God wants to heal me, it's not that I don't believe He's capable of it... but if He has something else planned, THAT'S what I want. Even as a small child, when I was talking to my parents about accepting Jesus, my Mom said, "Katie, you are safe. We can keep you safe." and I responded, "No, Mom. I don't want to be safe. I want to be SAVED." (As a 5 year old, I had no idea the weight those words would carry in my life.) And the night before I loaded my suitcases into the car, just barely over a month ago, still feeling weak and worn but needing to get back to my students, my mother remarked, "If there's a harder way, you're always going to take that one instead."

And maybe she's right... maybe I do look for the harder way. Maybe the reason I'm still sick is because God knows I need a break. Or maybe He's given me this personality because the harder way has always been what He had planned for me. Regardless, there are two things I now know for certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt... 1. God is in control, even when things go "wrong" and "sorrows like sea billows roll" and 2. I don't want to be Happy and Safe. I want to be Holy and Saved.

NOT this Little Light of Mine

There are 2 things I have learned tonight... 3 for which I am grateful.

1. No matter how many you live through, power outages never get easier.

2. It is extremely difficult to check for chicken pox/shingles using only a flashlight and a mirror.

3. A bedroom has significantly more light when a candle is placed in front of a mirror.

I don't know why I've never thought of it before... placing a candle in front of a mirror. Maybe it's because after leaving the classroom, I try to forget that I know things like Laws of Plane Mirror Reflection and the principles of refraction which cause candle glow. Maybe it's because I have only recently brought back the lovely, Ikea taper candle holders which my sister-in-law encouraged me to buy (Thank you, Erin, they really come in handy!) Or maybe its because my mirror is on the other side of my bedroom and when I'm reading by candlelight, I tend to put the candles on my bedside table. Regardless of the reason, tonight, during one of our many scheduled power outages, I placed a taper candle in front of my dressing table mirror and marveled at the many things I was suddenly able to see.

and then the song "This Little Light of Mine" suddenly started to bother me. Yes, Jesus is the Light of the World. Yes, we are His hands and feet. But I can't help wondering if the church would be better off if we all spent less time worrying about how we are going to shine our own lights and spent more time trying to reflect His.

So perhaps instead of "taking the light to this darkened world" we should be thinking, "You know, Jesus is the Light. Let's all go be mirrors!"