Keep It Coming, Please

I know I've mentioned it a time or ten, but I don't actually understand how this Christmas Crazy thing works. I mean, I know how it WORKS, behind-the-scenes anyway, but after I do all sorts of work and post a few links, THAT is when I get confused. I think y'all click the links? And do stuff? But, like, there are way more of you than I expect every single year.

Also, some of you are SO incredibly generous. I mean, wow.

It should be stated that I don't keep attendance. I read every single gift receipt and message sent my way, but I don't check off my list to make sure people show up year-after-year. But I know some of you do. I know for a fact that some of you have never once missed a year and basically, if I were a hugger. I would hug you. Twice.

ANYWAY, we're over $2000 into this adventure. That leaves us about $8000 to go. Frankly, I am simultaneously blown away and worried about that we won't get there. That might not make sense, but trust me when I say it does in my head.

Here's the thing. For the past six or so years, I've managed to wind Christmas Crazy through my day job. As in, there's a second Amazon Wishlist especially for a special group of people who have to deal with me face-to-face on a daily basis. The place I worked up until December 2020 was extra good at this little project. While strangers on the internet still did most of the heavy lifting, those co-workers definitely rounded things out. But I left that place (... there's a whole story there yet to be told). I reached out to some of those former co-workers to see if that place would play along again this year even though I wasn't there, and hahahahahalolz. It turns out that when you've managed to bring over four people to your new place of employment, senior leadership doesn't like you or your projects so much anymore. Maybe the Director of Sales was a step too far?

I don't know. Maybe they could suck less. That would probably deter people from leaving.

ANYWAY. Not having that guaranteed participation from people who I can beg in meetings every day is making me nervous. I've already got about a few new game pieces on the board and am working on getting them to go the right direction, but MAKE ME LESS NERVOUS, INTERNET.

Help.

Please.

Shop from the Amazon Wishlist and I will make sure every last toy and gift makes it to a kid receiving services from Center for Victims. Or, throw a few dollars towards PayPal. I'll turn those dollars into toys and get them to Center for Victims' kids as well.

Thanks. :-)

Caldo Galego

I basically just re-post recipes at this point because pandemic. It may not seem like a straight line between those two things, but it totally is. Promise.

ANYWAY, I was thinking about the year I spent Christmas in Spain and Imma gonna need this soup sometime soon. It's time.

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I can't remember her name, but I do remember her tiny, gallery-style kitchen. It was a warm and cozy nook in the corner of a tiny apartment that was very obviously filled with love.

And with homesickness.

Much like everyone who lived in Alicante, the girl I befriended while spending my senior year of high school in Spain wasn't from Alicante. She had very recently moved there from Galicia and she very obviously missed everything about it. Alicante is much like Las Vegas in that it's a tourist town devoid of its own personality. It begs and borrows and steals the best from other cities, but it doesn't have anything that is its own.

Galicia does, though. Days and nights were spent learning about Galicia. My 18-year old teacher was all too happy to teach me all about her part of Spain. She spun tales about sunsets and scenery, festivals and fun, and food.

There was a lot of talk about food.

Along the way, the girl's mother joined in on one of those conversations about the rich cuisine of their home province. A little of this led to a little of that and before I knew it, I was eating Caldo Galego.

No lie ... that night I spent dining on Caldo Galego and chatting with friends who were also far from home was a highlight of the time I spent in Spain. The friends were great and the food was a perfect accompaniment. It was amazing.

I haven't been able to exactly recreate Caldo Galego just yet, mostly because I only recently figured out what "grelo" is in English (rapini, in case you were wondering). I haven't come across it at a grocery store, but when I do, expect some magic to happen. And it will happen.

In the meantime, I spent some weeks figuring out a reasonable way of impersonating Caldo Galego. I think I've got it down. Finally. It's not exactly what I remember, but it's really, really, really good.

Caldo Galego

1 15-oz can white beans (these are the closest thing I could find to what I had in Spain)
1 32-ounce box of vegetable broth (I used this kind)
1 small onion, chopped
1/2 cup chopped carrots
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 small turnips, chopped
2 small white potatoes, chopped
Half of a small head green cabbage, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and pepper to taste
1 teaspoon olive oil

1. Toss the beans and broth into the biggest pot you own. Heat them to a boil.

2. Reduce the heat to medium.

3. Throw all of the rest of the stuff in there except for the olive oil. You're going to drizzle that over top at the very end because it's what Spaniards do.

4. Allow to simmer until the vegetables are soft. It took mine about 25-30 minutes to be perfect and happy and all of that. Note: If it seems that you need more liquid, you can add water or more broth. I promise it won't hurt anything.

5. Drizzle the olive oil over top.

6. Serve with crusty bread. It's the right thing to do.

Lighting Up My Night