ah yes, the getting together of relatives to break bread and carry on. this year was a gathering at my uncle's in alameda.
my uncle lives with his girlfriend and three grandsons (the 3Ds) all under the age of 6, the children of his oldest daughter, my cousin. several years ago she ran off to arkansas after her baby's daddy; leaving with one child and returning with 3. she just had her fourth, a lovely baby girl, this last summer.
my uncle took custody of the 3 D's since my cousin has been through hard times and multiple challenges caring for the boys properly. i have to give it up to my uncle, a man of 60 and taking on 3 small children. his girlfriend is a very cool + down to earth woman, always on the move between the boys and her own extended large family (i never meet the same person twice). she and her sister punky usually do the cooking when folks get together. this year they made baked and fried turkey, prime rib, ham, cornbread stuffing, salad greens, mac + cheese, yams, collard greens, banana pudding, golden cake, and pumpkin pie.
serious business. after a single plate of what i eat, i felt the ITIS swoon. my cousin yinka and i took a walk with 2 of the D's after dinner; playing games like hoist the toddler and find the color blah blah and what would spider man do? as we circled the block.
at one point, punky was holed up in the back patio with my cousin, another young woman and her man, all ragingly tore up on the biggest bottle of vodka i've ever seen, as well as 0E8, and tall buds. the conversation between them got louder and more incomprehensible as i sat there listening.
'i smoked crack for ten years, nigga!'
'i showed dat fool how to smoke crack nigga!'
'ya'll talkin bullshit, i'm talkin real shit.'
at this point i think nigga will eventually morph into a verb. i was offered some of the nuclear vodka hooch and politely declined, 'nah, i'm cool,' is my standard refrain for you're trippin i am not drinking that.
the young woman had ruddy gang tats and a sinister gaze in her eyes. she was a roughneck. she looked at me with contempt a few times. it's not personal; it's just that street-ness of who u think u is biotch? challenge yet lacking understanding as to who i think i may be and too arrogant and insecure to open up. so roughnecks force it and fake it when confronted with a situation or person that makes them uncomfortable. when someone doesn't get you, they mean mug you, they talk shit. it's like ghetto mental judo. just look them dead in the eye. i know what's up with you, mama and you don't scare me. i just keep it cool like rasta shaolin. the ghetto mind is no match for the conscious mind. the nicest thing she said between us as she was hollerin into her cell phone at someone was, 'everyone is rockin dreads!'
'happy and nappy!' i said with a smile, but she just scowled at me and turned away. closed. hmm. and i thought no good holiday-naturedness shall pass between us hence.
back inside the apartment while we ate, punky came through from the back, 'what you mothafuckin niggas...', the room went quiet. she stopped herself, looked down and walked passed me. 'keep it cool, mama,' i whispered. 'just keep it cool.'
it was like walking into the boondocks episode, invasion of the katrinians. all that was missing was kool-aid (unless i simply overlooked that).
i much prefer punky when she's straight. she gets down too hard with the drink and that vibe can get hectic very fast with others acting foolish on the same level. my uncle takes it in stride; as long as the carrying on is done out in the back, and '...come sundown they need to get they asses on home.'
'girl, i'm just heck-a drunk,' punky said to me before we left. 'next time i'll be better.'
connie, yinka, and i came to support my uncle as his folks. we all need that; to feel we have our own on our side. oh yes, the battlefield of life, which at times may include the holidays with other people's relatives.
eat a vegan!
i've never been a fan of cornmeal stuffing (cornbread, yes! the stuffing, not so much). i wanted to make my own this year, but you know, with a different vibe on it other than stove top. so i did some research and found this little some some to work with, which includes quinoa. it's quite good, but doesn't have the flavor of old school chicken stock at the base.
my uncle lives with his girlfriend and three grandsons (the 3Ds) all under the age of 6, the children of his oldest daughter, my cousin. several years ago she ran off to arkansas after her baby's daddy; leaving with one child and returning with 3. she just had her fourth, a lovely baby girl, this last summer.
my uncle took custody of the 3 D's since my cousin has been through hard times and multiple challenges caring for the boys properly. i have to give it up to my uncle, a man of 60 and taking on 3 small children. his girlfriend is a very cool + down to earth woman, always on the move between the boys and her own extended large family (i never meet the same person twice). she and her sister punky usually do the cooking when folks get together. this year they made baked and fried turkey, prime rib, ham, cornbread stuffing, salad greens, mac + cheese, yams, collard greens, banana pudding, golden cake, and pumpkin pie.
serious business. after a single plate of what i eat, i felt the ITIS swoon. my cousin yinka and i took a walk with 2 of the D's after dinner; playing games like hoist the toddler and find the color blah blah and what would spider man do? as we circled the block.
at one point, punky was holed up in the back patio with my cousin, another young woman and her man, all ragingly tore up on the biggest bottle of vodka i've ever seen, as well as 0E8, and tall buds. the conversation between them got louder and more incomprehensible as i sat there listening.
'i smoked crack for ten years, nigga!'
'i showed dat fool how to smoke crack nigga!'
'ya'll talkin bullshit, i'm talkin real shit.'
at this point i think nigga will eventually morph into a verb. i was offered some of the nuclear vodka hooch and politely declined, 'nah, i'm cool,' is my standard refrain for you're trippin i am not drinking that.
the young woman had ruddy gang tats and a sinister gaze in her eyes. she was a roughneck. she looked at me with contempt a few times. it's not personal; it's just that street-ness of who u think u is biotch? challenge yet lacking understanding as to who i think i may be and too arrogant and insecure to open up. so roughnecks force it and fake it when confronted with a situation or person that makes them uncomfortable. when someone doesn't get you, they mean mug you, they talk shit. it's like ghetto mental judo. just look them dead in the eye. i know what's up with you, mama and you don't scare me. i just keep it cool like rasta shaolin. the ghetto mind is no match for the conscious mind. the nicest thing she said between us as she was hollerin into her cell phone at someone was, 'everyone is rockin dreads!'
'happy and nappy!' i said with a smile, but she just scowled at me and turned away. closed. hmm. and i thought no good holiday-naturedness shall pass between us hence.
back inside the apartment while we ate, punky came through from the back, 'what you mothafuckin niggas...', the room went quiet. she stopped herself, looked down and walked passed me. 'keep it cool, mama,' i whispered. 'just keep it cool.'
it was like walking into the boondocks episode, invasion of the katrinians. all that was missing was kool-aid (unless i simply overlooked that).
i much prefer punky when she's straight. she gets down too hard with the drink and that vibe can get hectic very fast with others acting foolish on the same level. my uncle takes it in stride; as long as the carrying on is done out in the back, and '...come sundown they need to get they asses on home.'
'girl, i'm just heck-a drunk,' punky said to me before we left. 'next time i'll be better.'
connie, yinka, and i came to support my uncle as his folks. we all need that; to feel we have our own on our side. oh yes, the battlefield of life, which at times may include the holidays with other people's relatives.
eat a vegan!
i've never been a fan of cornmeal stuffing (cornbread, yes! the stuffing, not so much). i wanted to make my own this year, but you know, with a different vibe on it other than stove top. so i did some research and found this little some some to work with, which includes quinoa. it's quite good, but doesn't have the flavor of old school chicken stock at the base.
herbed stuffing
- 5 cups stale bread cubes
- 1-2 cup cooked rice (or other grain such as quinoa)
- 1 cup onion, minced
- 2 cups celery, finely chopped
- 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme, chopped
- 1 teaspoon fresh sage, chopped
- 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped
- 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- 1 cup vegetable broth
- salt (depending on salt content of broth or to taste depending on salt content broth)
tip! :
if you want a drier stuffing, use the 1c broth. if you want it more moist, try 2 - 6c
as is your preference.
experiment! i added some crushed bay leaf to the herbs, garlic to the celery + onion mix.
directions
1. preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
2. in a large bowl, combine bread and cooked grains.
3. sauté onions in a little water for about 5 minutes, then add celery and cook until soft.
4. mix oil and vegetable broth, then pour over stuffing mixture.
5. add salt to taste.
6. cook, covered, for about 25 minutes, then uncovered until top is slightly browned and crispy.
you can also simmer on a stove top as well (use a big pasta pot!)
props to: recipe zaar
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