Yesterday Kathleen and I had a belly dance photoshoot done by one of her coworkers. It was fun, relaxed and I think she got a lot of excellent shots.

As I was doing my hair and makeup, it was just like riding a bike. I used to get ready a few times a month; we haven’t had a gig since 2019. Everything came together very quickly and was effortless.

I was happy with the way my hair and makeup came out. I had everything organized and packed; I just had to put on my costuming and jewelry when I got to the dance studio.

Corrina took some photos of us putting on the finishing touches in the big studio mirrors. She looked around where she wanted us to dance, looking for the perfect light. The studio is in an old warehouse with brick walls and large paned windows.

I threw on some music, and we started dancing; Corrina started snapping photos. Since we do improv dance, it didn’t matter what I put on; we can dance to anything. I can’t tell you how special it felt to dance with Kathleen finally; I mean really dancing.

Our dance style uses a lot of cues and transitions, but eye contact is also key. I haven’t stared into her eyes for a performance in a year and a half. When we dance improv, you get into each other’s energy and lock eyes when we face each other; sometimes, she will give a wink, which makes me laugh out loud every time she does. The audience doesn’t know why I am laughing, but they know we are having a good time.

Corrina took photos in the studio for an hour, then we went outside and took a few pictures with our silk veils. It was hot and humid, but my makeup held up well. The setting mist that I bought right before the pandemic really worked!

After we were done with the photoshoot, we said goodbye to Corrina and thanked her. Then we headed off to Kathleen’s house to hang out until it was time for our other class. We’ve been doing this every week; even if I run errands in between classes, we still have at least an hour to catch up. I’ve missed my dance sister time a lot.

Kathleen and I, plus all the other Sahidi Sisters that no longer dance with us, used to spend a lot of time together. We used to dance on Monday nights for about two and a half hours, plus a couple of hours at our regular classes later in the week. We also spent a lot of time driving to gigs together and hung out at whatever gigs we were at. We also did things socially…we have a lot of great memories and stories.

We kept most of our costuming on for class; it was great dancing dressed up in real dancewear, not practice gear like we usually wear to teach in. It’s very different dancing in a skirt as opposed to legging. Our large 35-yard skirts are gigantic, and when we spin, they take a few seconds to catch up. It’s not something I can describe, but if Corrina got a few good shots of us spinning, that might explain it a little better.

When I was driving home at 8 pm, the sun was still out; it felt like I really danced like I used to. As I was driving, I really felt like I got my groove back on with my sunglasses on and my skirts barely fitting in the driver’s seat with me.

As soon as Corrina does some editing and emails us some photos, I’ll share them with you guys.

Last week I watched a YouTube video from the movie The Greatest Showman. It’s one of my favorite movies, but this video was different. It was a performance before the movie was made. It was like an audition for a bunch of big wigs and producers…trying to get them to pony up and want to back the movie.

The singer Keala Settle was there to sing one of the songs from the show with The Greatest Showman ensemble. She wasn’t auditioning for the movie or the role, even though she ended up with it.

I teared up when I watched the video, which isn’t a surprise because I am a crier when I see emotional movies or commercials. The song and the lyrics ran through my head for a few days. I read the lyrics and listened to the song again. The song is called, “This is me!”

Partial lyrics to “This is me.”

I am not a stranger to the dark
Hideaway, they say
‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts
I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Runaway, they say
No one’ll love you as you are but I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious when the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ’em out
I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me

The song made me realize that I needed to accept myself for how I look right now. I was the one in the song tormenting, cutting down, and bruising myself emotionally.

This blog post has taken a while for me to write; it’s about acceptance. I won’t waste my time or yours making up excuses; I’ll get right to the point. I quit working out plain and simple.

Ok, I’ve publicly admitted it; after all my blog is about my life…being honest and authentic. Surely I am not the only 55-year-old woman who feels like I did.

I talked with Kathleen, my dance partner, after I stopped working out a few weeks ago; it felt good to admit to someone close to me that I failed. I told her that I finally let myself off the hook, I gave it my all, but I am done. As I talked with her, I started to accept that this is me right now, like it or not. 

Before I started working out, I used the old crutch why I couldn’t lose weight or get my girlish figure back because of my post-menopausal age. I didn’t want to diet like crazy because it’s not sustainable for me. I didn’t want to risk my GI health with all my intestinal problems by using diet shakes, drinks, teas, coffees, or gummy bears. Again, not sustainable for me.

When I decided to work out in October, I made that decision out of anger and for something to do because I couldn’t belly dance anymore because of covid.

After working out for a couple of weeks, I watched everything that went into my mouth. I tripled my water consumption. I watched how many carbs I consumed and tried to stick with healthy proteins. My portion sizes were small, and I stopped eating the second I felt full, even if it was delicious. 

I worked out 6 days a week weight lifting for 4 days along with cardio and did just cardio for the 2 days I didn’t lift. I pushed myself harder than I ever did when I was younger. In the end, I proved to myself I haven’t lost my strength or my stamina…just my figure.

After 6 months of giving it my all, I didn’t lose one fucking ounce. I didn’t look any different. My clothes didn’t fit any better. I was stressing myself out about it, worrying when I would fit a workout into my now hectic busy days. What would I have to sacrifice to make that time available? 

Finding the time for the gym was easy over the winter and during the pandemic, but after my life, work and activities went back to normal, I was beating myself up for being a quitter. I am not a quitter. 

That brings me to today; I went shopping for new clothes. We were in Saratoga making a delivery when I surprised myself by telling Marty I wanted to go to Old Navy and get myself some new things. I always have luck there, and their clothing runs true to size. He was thrilled because I never want to shop, let alone buy myself new clothes.

As I walked through the store, I looked at everything once, then looped back and chose a few dresses to try on. I told Marty I didn’t want anything black I have a whole closet full of black clothes; I wanted color and patterns. For real! 

When I was still working out, I told myself I would treat myself to new clothes, and I’d buy something other than black. I’ve always liked and worn black clothes, but for the last 7 years, I’ve been hiding behind them to hide the shape that I hated.

I decided today, right in the Wilton Mall parking lot, that this is it, this is how I look. This is me! The song popped into my head, and I asked myself if I would keep hiding or finally accept what I look like right now. Life is too short, dammit; buy some fun, colorful, cute dresses, Julz, and rock the hell out of them. 

Each one I tried on, I said to myself, “Wow, this looks cute, or nice or whatever.” Marty was outside the dressing room, and when I showed him each dress, he said what I said in my head. So guess what? I didn’t think twice, I bought all 5 of them. 

I have so much confidence in everything that I do that it was killing me inside by not accepting what I look like. I realized that getting old is a privilege, and I am aging well; I am in pretty good shape and strong. I stay active between work and dance. I haven’t quit or given up; it’s not “it is what it is.” It’s about acceptance and moving on to focus on more important things in my life.

Look out summer here I come…this is me!

Kathleen and I have a belly dance photoshoot on Wednesday before our evening dance classes. We haven’t had a real photoshoot in years. The last one was done by one of our dance sisters, Bethany, who moved to North Carolina four years ago.

Kathleen’s friend at work is also a photographer and would like to take photos of us in our belly dance costumes. She and I will meet at our regular time from 3-4 pm and spend that time putting the finishing touches on our make-up and put on the rest of our costumes.

We dance classic American Tribal Style belly dance, and the costuming is not exactly what you would think of when you think of belly dance. Most people think of skimpy sequined tops and skirts with slits up the legs or the crack of your ass. The typical hair is long, worn down to be able to flip around during a choreographed piece. Not all belly dance is choreographed, but most are. Make-up is heavier than day wear, but not like ours, which includes tribal markings on our faces.

The motto of our dance style when it comes to costuming is “more is more,” which is funny because none of us are like that in our real lives. I have untold amounts of skirts, pantaloons, choli tops, head wrap scarves, hip shawls, coin bras and belts, stage make-up, jewelry, and different kinds and colored flowers for my hair.

We used to have a lot of gigs every month. I got really good at picking out what costuming I was going to wear, and the rest of it all fell into place. In a hurry, I could push it and get ready in an hour for a more casual performance; but if it was a paid gig, on stage at a big show, or a professional photoshoot, it could take up to three hours to get ready.

When people hire us for a private party, never anything like a bachelor party, everyone would think that the price was just for the 15, 30 minute, or hour performance time. They never took into account that it took three hours to get ready, plus the drive to and from the gig. Because we love to perform, it’s worth it, even if the math didn’t always make sense. That’s why we did so many fundraising and charity shows…to perform!

When Kathleen asked me a couple of weeks ago if I wanted to do a photoshoot, I was like, “Fuck yeah!” The ham in me always wants to come out, plus I could use a new headshot for our website.

We confirmed with Kathleen’s photographer friend what she wanted, bright colors, black and white. Indoors or outdoors. She definitely wanted color, and we would choose the location based on the weather. We do improv dance, so we are adaptable anywhere.

Next, Kathleen and I decided to wear two 35 yard cotton skirts, one on top of the other and a color theme; then the rest is up to us individually. We decided on purple as a common color, which is great because purple is my favorite color, other than black, of course.

Today, I went through the totes in my closet that I neatly organized at the end of March and was so glad I did. I was able to find things that I wanted to wear easily. I chose purple and marigold 35-year skirts, a pansy flower cotton choli top, and light cotton sage green pantaloons.

I am also bringing both of my coin bras to decide what one to wear, along with a few different hip shawls and tassel belts. I also packed two different colored silk veils which we use to cover ourselves up when we aren’t dancing or posing. My mood has everything to do with what I chose the day of a gig.

I will do my hair and makeup at home; I always choke when I try to get ready somewhere else. This way, I can fuck up a dozen times, and no one has to hear me bitch. My hair and makeup will be elaborate and will take some time since I am out of practice. I won’t know what I will do until I actually get ready. I’ve dressed up hundreds of times, and no costume, hair, or make-up was ever replicated; it all goes by what I am feeling.

The jewelry that we wear is like a middle easter dowry, a collection of jewelry accumulated over the years. I have purchased, traded, and have been gifted the collection I have. I only purchased a few items, everything else I have gotten from other people. I went through my collection and got out my most authentic tribal pieces. Again, I am not sure what I’ll end up wearing until I am putting it on.

Hopefully, the weather will cooperate, and we can get some nice outdoor photos. Our studio space is also in an old warehouse, so we may be able to get a few cool shots there, too—the elaborate against the industrial kind of thing.

I have everything put aside; I still have to iron a bunch of costume pieces that have been crammed in the back of a closet or a tote for almost two years. I am super excited to get back into costume, especially after a year of not even being able to dance. Yip!

Yesterday was a gorgeous summertime day. It was warmer at 5 am than the whole day last Saturday at our farmers market in Troy, NY.

The week before, I wore layers, including a fleece, down jacket, and raincoat. I also wore winter socks and boots and froze to death. Yesterday, I wore a simple sundress. Yay! Finally. 

After we set up, we walked the 30 yards to the Hudson River; the market is located at Riverfront Park and is right on the Hudson. We sat in the sunshine for a bit, and I snapped a selfie of us. I call those an us-ie. 

Next, we headed up to Monument Square to see if much changed during the week of filming the HBO series The Gilded Age. 

This week all the carriages I saw in the tent the week before were placed through the “city” along with lots of props. There were two ginormous green screens like the weather people use behind them. The bucket trucks had cameras attached, and there was lots of security and people everywhere. 

We were still able to walk around freely and take photos. I knew last week when I was the only one there; it wouldn’t last. Glad I jumped on the chance in the terrible weather the week before. 

Groups of people took photos of themselves on the sets, and one woman offered to take ours. After Marty took my picture, a woman said, “Do you want me to take one of you guys together?” I replied quickly, “Nah, not really,” and immediately got a reaction from her and Marty. “Sure, I’m kidding.” 😂

We headed back to our booth, and our market neighbor Joanne said, “Oh my God, you guys are so cute I thought you were your tourists.” 

We went back over to the concrete wall near the Hudson River and watched the other vendors set up their booths. We like to be done early and relax before the market starts. 

A milk vendor said to us while we were sitting on the wall, What are you guys doing sunbathing?” “You betcha!” 

Halfway through the market, Marty wanted to see if the splash pad park was open. Last summer, since he was alone, he had to wait until the market was over to cool off before heading home. He started wearing these fast-drying shorts so the van seats would be soaked. 

Marty came back about ten minutes later, wet. He smiled like a kid with his big dimples and said, “The splash pad park is open!” He’s so cute! I took a walk over to see the splash pads in action. I saw a group of kids having the time of their lives. Not a care in the world except what pad was going to shoot water up like a geyser next.

As each pad would shoot up water, the kids would scream and giggle, then run to the next pad. What a great way for the kids to stay cool and have fun. I love it. Great job to the city of Troy!

Living on the journey or in the moment allows all of these kinds of moments to happen….just like those kids at the splash pad park. Living in the destination would be waiting until we got home to enjoy the nice weather and sunshine, or a day off to be tourists. Those moments are there; you just have to grab on to them.

Since I had the smoker grill all clean and still in barbecue mode I decided to try again. This time I would be smoking wings with a sweet and spicy glaze.

We knew our cooking time was way off and possibly the smoker’s temperature when we ruined our brisket. 

I brined some chicken wings for a couple of hours and lit the hard lump charcoal in the smoker. While the fire was getting hot, I patted the wings dry and sprinkled on a rub that I made.

When the charcoal started to turn white, I added pecan wood. I watched a YouTube video of a guy doing wings on the same kind of grill/smoker we have. He used a fruitwood too. I don’t remember him saying how much to put in, but he did say to spread it around the outside of the charcoal, which I did.

After the pecan wood started smoking, I put the wings on the grill and shut the lid. I literally sat by the smoker to watch the temperature. I thought things went wrong when I saw the smoker was way below 100 degrees. I opened the lid, and it was smoking like hell and hot. The wings looked done after only one hour. What? The Youtube guy’s wings took two hours.

Shit, shit, shit! I ran inside and got a digital meat thermometer and sure enough, the wings were at 180 degrees and dark in color like the YouTube guys.

I closed up all the openings on the grill to shut the fire down and took the wings inside. I was happy with how they looked, and I know they weren’t overcooked. 

I made a glaze and brushed it all over the wings. The plan was to reheat the wings later on for dinner; I popped them in the refrigerator until then. 

As I reheated them in the oven, I brushed more sweet and spicy glaze on the wings. I just took the chill off; I didn’t want to dry them out. 

I plated up the wings because I wanted to take a photo for a blog post. Marty and I both tried a wing at the same time. They were moist and came off the bone easily. 

I know the glaze was delicious on its own since I tasted it as I made it, but on the wings, you couldn’t taste it at all because I over smoked the damn wings! 🤦🏻‍♀️

The wings were way too smoky for us, even though everything else was perfect. Fuck!  I thought I hit a home run this time. As it turned out, I only made it between first and second base. 

I didn’t eat anymore, and I didn’t keep the wings for Klaus since he’s off poultry on his limited ingredient allergy diet.

Ok…I used too much pecan wood. Poultry takes on smoke easily, which I now know. Probably one piece of pecan wood would have been enough, but I used several. 

As far as waste, at least the wings came out of our freezer after being in there for at least a year when I remembered we had them. Some were freezer burned anyway, so they were perfect for another try. 

Wednesday, I picked up a big package of chicken thighs for 99 cents a pound; I’m going to try again on Sunday. I’ll use the same brine, rub and glaze as before.

It took me seven years to develop our spätzle recipe, which happens to be the only gluten-free, fresh—no-boil spätzle in the world. As I was trying to develop the recipe, I used ingredient after ingredient only for the spätzle to fall apart as soon as the batter hit the water. Very, very frustrating. The more I tried, the madder I got. I made so many attempts I lost track, so I just started counting the years. 

I knew I was getting close to success three attempts before I nailed the spätzle recipe. I feel the same way; close to getting the smoked barbecue chicken right. 

Clearly the thermostat on the smoker isn’t worth shit, so I have to get one that works.

On the bright side, the brining was right. The rub was right. The glaze was right. The doneness of the chicken was right. The amount of wood was wrong, an easy fix…add less.

After the brisket catastrophe, I decided to practice barbecuing using chicken first since it’s less expensive than beef or pork if I mess up again. After I get the chicken right, I can move on to pork shoulders and ribs; then try beef brisket again. Brisket is the hardest meat to smoke even for people who know how to smoke meats; why the hell we chose it, I’ll never know.

Barbecue champions didn’t make award-winning barbecue their first or second time. It could have taken hundreds of times to account for each kind of meat, sauce, rub, barbequing method, and time.

Barbecue guru Aaron Franklin of the famous Franklin BBQ in Austin, TX said it took him seven years to get his brisket right; then, he opened a food truck with his wife. It took him seven years to perfect his brisket, just like it took me seven years to perfect my spätzle! 

When it comes to learning how to barbecue, Aaron Franklin’s advice is only to change one thing at a time and keep track, which I am doing just like I did with my spätzle recipe.

I fixed the cook time on Tuesday when I did the wings, now I have to fix the amount of wood for smoking and watch the temperature closer.

I am not nearly as disappointed as I was with the brisket; I learned more about barbequing smoking the wings. These were actually edible for people who like a super smoky bbq taste which is more than I can say for the burnt brisket. 

The score reads as follows: Barbecue 2 Julz 0. I’ll get it, just you wait.

I don’t get to write on Wednesdays. We get up early, guzzle coffee and gobble down a banana, then head straight into the production kitchen. Afterward, I eat lunch, shower, and get ready to dance with Kathleen for an hour at 3:00 pm, grocery shop, then teach dance classes from 5:45-7:45 pm. By the time we clean and sanitize the training room and I drive home, it’s almost 8:30 pm. 

I have something pre-made for dinner so Marty just has to heat it up while I am driving home. After chugging down some wine, eating and STILL washing my dishes by hand (those bastards) it’s 9:30 pm. I’m done. ✔️ 

Yesterday morning when I was making coffee, I looked outside, and the sunshine was beautiful. Our house faces the East, and we get some beautiful sunrises. I re-arranged my side of the porch the day before and wanted to sit out there and have a cup of coffee and enjoy the sun. 20 minutes wouldn’t make or break the day. 

Now my side of the porch is like a cozy little nook. When the couch was facing out to the street I always had to crane my neck to talk to anyone on the other side of the porch. Now I can look across the porch, or if I want to face the street, I sit sideways with my feet up on the couch. 

Why did it take me so long to figure out this seating arrangement? Or better yet, why did it take me years to live in the moment and enjoy a little morning coffee and sunshine? The good news is that I figured these things out at the beginning of June and not at the end of the summer. 

As I was finishing writing this post, Noah stopped over. It was really nice having the four of us hanging out on the front porch together. I was sitting in my little nook while Marty, Sam, and Noah were sitting on the other side of the porch.

The light rain falling and the sounds of the crickets and peepers reminded me of the days when we used to go camping with our little pop-up camper when the boys were little. Those camping memories are awesome to have, and now we are making new ones right here on the front porch.

Yesterday, our son Sam who graduated from nursing school a couple of weeks ago, passed his nursing boards, making him officially an RN. A pretty impressive accomplishment for a 20-year-old; he turns 21 at the end of August. 

Last summer, Sam worked in the hospital as an ER tech during the pandemic; he starts in July as an ER nurse in the same hospital. He will continue to run on rescue squad calls as well; he runs on adrenaline.

It’s hard to believe how fast our boys grew up; they say don’t blink, or you will miss it. When they were small, I realize now that I worried too much about small stuff like trying to be the perfect mother, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, housekeeper, and cook. I was so focused on trying to do everything perfectly; I lost myself along the way. I didn’t enjoy those years as much as I could have or should have.

I still want to be a great mom, wife, and business owner but not to the point of being so stressed out sweating the small stuff anymore. For the year that I’ve been living my life on the journey and not the destination, these types of things are crystal clear to me now. Being on the journey has changed my life, now I can finally enjoy my family and have fun with them.

Congratulations Sam! Hard work pays off and we are very proud of him. ☺️

Yesterday we made a quick trip to New Paltz, NY. We were meeting my sister Jennifer there; it’s a good in-between spot to meet with people coming from Jersey. There is a free commuter parking lot literally right off the NY Thruway and a perfect place to meet and leave a vehicle behind so we could ride together into town.

For us it’s a two-hour trip, we travel so much making deliveries, we are used to it. We used to meet our Pennsylvania distributor, The Alpine House in New Paltz, to drop off spätzle, another halfway point from Honesdale, PA. Luckily for us, their drivers deliver their wursts and sausages to Shop-Rite locations in Niskayuna and East Greenbush, NY, only an hour trip for us now.

We met Jen at 10 and walked around the small village of New Paltz. It was good to see people out and about; small coffee shops were booming. We wandered in and out of antique shops and boutiques until we were all starving.

We decided on the Mexican Kitchen, located on Front Street, a cute side street off the main road. The weather turned out to be better than forecasted, so we ate outside, the only seating option at the restaurant.

On our way to the Mexican Kitchen, we spotted a pile of items with a big free sign in front of them. One item was a framed print that I loved. It actually is a well-known piece of art with a Parisian theme. Paris is my favorite place in the world; after everything is truly back to normal, Marty and I plan to go.

We had a knowledgeable, attentive, and friendly server. He took care of the tables effortlessly. We weren’t rushed and could really catch up since we haven’t seen each other in person since last July in NJ.

Jennifer is my biological sister on the parental side of my family. She found me two years ago through Ancestry. com. We felt connected immediately and realized we had so much in common. She literally told her daughter Sofia the day before that she always wished she had a sister and found me the next day.

I guess it was the right time for us to find each other; I also have two brothers on that side of my family, aunts, and lots of cousins. It’s super exciting that combined; I have 4 nieces and 1 nephew as well. They are all under 14 years old, so I get to know them while growing up; I love being Aunt Julz.

I’ll write more about Jennifer when she visits us in July, but for now, I wanted to introduce her to you guys. I always wished for siblings when I blew out my birthday candles growing up; those wishes just took 45 years to come to fruition.

Our lunch at Mexican Kitchen was fresh and delicious. Everything, except for their burritos, was gluten-free, including their homemade tortilla chips! We can never eat homemade tortilla chips because they usually are fried in the same fryer as wheat and gluten-based foods. Yay!

The only bummer of the day was someone hit Marty’s side mirror on his truck, his baby, his big green tank. The main road is tight and always bumper to bumper with visitor traffic, but that’s not an excuse to drive like an asshole. Now he has to order two side mirrors, so they match. The truck is a vintage diesel Excursion, so the parts are harder to come by.

The traffic is so bad going through town that they have pedestrian flags to cross the street. Marty thought this was great fun and loved waving the flag at the non-stop traffic so we could cross safely. None of us ever saw or heard of such a thing before. 😂

We said our goodbyes back at the commuter parking lot. Of course, we brought a couple of bags of spätzle for her and her two kids; she said that the kids would be happy. It still makes us smile every time someones tells us our spätzle makes them happy; when it’s my niece and nephew, even better.

Our trip home on the NY Thruway was smooth sailing with very little traffic. Southbound on the Thruway was pretty much bumper-to-bumper slow-moving traffic heading back to New Jersey and downstate NY. Campers, boats, and family-packed vehicles filled the other side of the road. I’m glad we were headed in the opposite direction. Hopefully, they had a good holiday weekend despite the rain up in our neck of the woods, we really need the economy from travelers and visitors, but I’m also glad when they go back home too.

Klaus went on strike and didn’t want to eat his expensive, limited ingredient diet dry kibble anymore. His skin, ears, face, and feet are healed and look fantastic after a long struggle of figuring out what he can eat that won’t set off his allergies again. 

We’ve been avoiding poultry and sticking to red meat. Poultry gives some bulldogs issues, so removed it with great results. 

After days of turning his nose up to his food and Sam hand feeding him, I decided to try making a super healthy beef stew to mix with the kibble and a pumpkin natural peanut butter mixture to mix in for breakfast.

Last week I bought beef ribs that I braised, making stock at the same time. I repeatedly skimmed all the fat off the top. Then I added carrots, sweet potatoes, green beans, peas, celery, and red kidney beans. I thickened the stew with a potato starch slurry that worked brilliantly. He likes it and gobbles up his kibble again along with his allergy pills hidden in the carrots. 😉

I used some pet-approved herbs like rosemary, basil, and oregano to further flavor the stew. Salt is a no-no, so when I tasted it, I had to remember its dog food. With salt, it would be delicious human food.

I froze a couple of containers of the stew, but he went through what I had in the fridge in less than a week. I have to make bigger pots of stew as this will get old quickly, especially when we are so busy. 

Today I made…Burnt Brisket Stew. When I added the sliced brisket to water, it softened up and gave the water a beefy smokey taste. I cut up more of the same veggies as last week and have it simmering on the stove. I added the potato starch slurry and, bam, dinner for Klausie-boy!

Let me tell you that our house smells freakin fantastic. I tasted it, again bland without salt and human spices but very good. I am waiting for Sam to come busting through the back door and ask what’s for dinner when he smells the aroma from the stew. 

I feel less wasteful now, and Klaus will reap the harvest of yesterday’s brisket disaster and have some tasty grub. 

So when life hands you lemons, you make limoncello, and when life hands you burnt brisket, you make stew!