Marguerita's "Feel the Love" Chilli

MARGUERITA’S “FEEL THE LOVE” CHILLI RECIPE

Ingredients

*1 pound ground beef, turkey, sausage or pork (optional) - recipe can be made

  with a combination of these meats or be made meat free

*2 onions

*3-4 fresh peppers (I like to use yellow, orange, red and green for color and
  flavor).
*3-4 garlic cloves
*2 (29 oz.) cans of tomato puree
*One can corn drained
*Two cans of black beans rinsed and drained
*Two cans of small red kidney beans rinsed and drained
*One can of pink beans rinsed and drained
*One 8 ounce jar of medium tomato salsa
*Spices to taste: salt, pepper, oregano, chili powder, cumin & basil & hot
  pepper flakes.
*Cheese freshly grated for topping if so desired

I sauté` the garlic and onions in a pan – then I add the ground meat – cooking until brown – I then drain off the fat.

In another pot (large pot) – I add all of the ingredients above. Stir together and cook over a low heat – or all ingredients can be put into a crock-pot to “slow cook” throughout the day left unattended.

This dish is served well with freshly grated cheese, salad and Italian bread. I sometimes like to serve brown rice on the side.

This recipe can be made ahead of time – and freezes well if you were to freeze leftovers for future meals.

Prepare it for your family - don’t forget to stir with love and bless your food – when you serve it – while sitting at the table enjoying this colorful meal with its many textures, colors and flavors – for certain I am sure you (and those you are dining with) will “feel the love.” Buona cena a tutti!!!

Who's Heart are you wearing on your sleeve this Valentine's Day?

                         Whose heart are you wearing on your sleeve this Valentine’s Day?                   

Valentine’s Day, originally a Christian Holiday which replaced a Pagan celebration is based on a Roman Priest named Valentine. According to legend Emperor Claudius ll needed soldiers - since the allure of fighting barbarians in exchange for the incredible payment of a few ounces of salt each week - men did not want to leave their families - So Claudius ll decreed that all marriages and engagements would be banned from this time until future notice.

Valentine was one of the few priests who defied the ban and performed secret wedding ceremonies. Valentine was arrested and sentenced to death. Lots of sympathizers sent flowers, gifts and letters. One of the jailers had a daughter who spent a lot of time with Valentine while he was incarcerated. He sent the young woman a thank you card and signed it, "Love, from your Valentine."

On February 14, 269 AD Valentine was executed coincidentally falling on the Pagan holiday which celebrated the Goddess Juno who presided over the reign of women and marriage.

In the year 496, the Pope declared Valentine a Saint and February 14th was to be his feast day.

During the Middle Ages the Lupercalia custom made a comeback where a celebrant would draw a name from a bowl and literally wear the name of their temporary lover (boyfriend/girlfriend) on their sleeve. Hence, the saying “.... is wearing their heart on their sleeve" is derived from.

Centuries later it became popular to send flowers, cards and candy. Neither modern nor old cards depict the Priest Valentine who was a martyred saint; instead you find illustrations of Cupid with his bow and arrow, who happens to be, by the way, the son of Venus - the Goddess of Love.

As it turns out the Pagan holiday, turned Christian by the Church still carries with it the Pagan spirit.

Who will wear my name on their sleeve this Valentine’s day?

Happy Valentine's Day!! With Love xooxox

Marguerita aka Queen Daisy From Belgium

Joseph Performs Surgery on Freezer - Cures Freezer of it's Mystery Puddles

All of life has a need to breathe – that includes my freezer as well. Yes we can all endure for a short time without food, water or rest – but we will not last for long if we cannot breathe. For air is the giver of life and without it we will perish quickly.

As I constantly jammed the freezer – (the top half of the refrigerator) with extra loaves of bread and vegetables - and after many attempts that Joseph tried to warn me of how the freezer needs to “breathe” – (I did not understand this – so I ignored it – and thought that if I ignored him – he would go away and leave me and my overstuffed freezer alone) the water line to the freezer froze – which caused a jam – which then led to an ongoing leak of water at the bottom of the refrigerator – eventually trickling onto the floor.

I thought of the mess that appeared on the floor every few days as the “mystery puddle”. Joseph pointed out that it was coming from the bottom of the fridge’s floor. Only my husband would “know” exactly what the problem was. It was as if he has CAT scan or x-ray eyes for diagnosing appliance disorders. Until today – after I removed all the frozen food from the freezer – unplugged the appliance – and witnessed Joseph using his magical special screwdriver (the fasteners that had to be removed were not your normal nuts and bolts) – did I have the opportunity to see the “innards” of the freezer.

Joseph like a surgeon, all tools ready to operate, slowly removed each piece and carefully put aside each layer until the secret workings of the freezer’s entrails were exposed. The heart and lungs of the freezer was a little fan like organ and nearby there were coils that looked like intestines which had electrical wires all attached in rows supported on a frame. Running down the center of the back wall was a spine and at the bottom where it met the floor of the freezer was a thick layer of solid ice – blocking the throat like hole (where the condensation would have drained the water away had it not been clogged and frozen over). I would not have known what I was looking at beyond describing it - if it weren’t for Joseph’s explanation to me as to what it was I was looking at!

Sure enough – you could see a “hole” where the water is “supposed to go into” – all blocked because the water was “frozen” – why? Because I had stuffed the freezer with too many items and the freezer could not breathe!!

As I sat off to the side trying to be useful and not get in the way – trying to act as an “assistant” – watching him thaw out a water line inside the interior of the freezer – with pots of hot water – watching him soak up the extra melted ice turned to water with rags – (it’s a very messy job) – I could not have been more proud of him than if he had just diagnosed a clogged artery and was performing heart surgery.

Interrupting my deep reverie, Joseph asked me, “How much do you think it would have cost to have a mechanic come out here and fix this?”

I said, “It would have probably cost more than a new refrigerator, anyone else we know would have probably just kept cleaning up the mystery puddle mess at the bottom. Or perhaps our refrigerator in anyone else’s home would have had the plug pulled on it and found itself landed on the curb out on the street – naked -without its doors. For sure in another home a new refrigerator would have been purchased – most likely with a credit card – or an appliance plan where for only $7.00 a month the fridge would finally be paid for in about twenty years or so”.

But in our home, because Joseph is so brilliant and good with his hands, he knew right away what the trouble was. And although I don’t relish in appliance ailments or breaking things (which happens occasionally with ignorance, wear and tear) or creating evils that take a lot of time for Joseph to fix and clean – I have to say I took delight in watching him repair the freezer. I am grateful that he not only fixed the freezer – and even though I could have thought of some better things I would have rather been doing – I didn’t mind spending time with him in my kitchen – working together side by side - while listening to Beatle’s music – singing……. listening to Joseph’s whistling.

I secretly believe he felt the satisfaction as well of using both his mind and hands in mending our refrigerator. There is a true contentment in being resourceful and finding a solution when placed with a problem.

With gratitude I say, “Thank you Honey”, for solving the puzzle of the mystery puddle. And I apologize for not listening to you all along - and for you having to work so hard. You were right.

What to cook for dinner tonight? I don’t know? Perhaps it’s thawing – in the meantime – I will just take this moment to breathe.

Until later,
Marguerita Nanfara
aka Queen Daisy from Belgium

Book Review: A Boardwalk Story Written by J. Louis Yampolsky

January 30, 2011

A Boardwalk Story by J. Louis Yampolsky

I’ve just finished reading a book called “The Boardwalk Story” – written by J. Louis Yampolsky. The Author supposedly is a retired financial advisor (worked with stock and trade) – and started writing the book by helping out his granddaughter with a history project.

 It was quite a surprise to see it in our local library – I came upon it by accident and as a landlocked mermaid myself being born and raised in Atlantic City, New Jersey – I was interested in reading the book.

The book is a coming of age novel of a young man in Atlantic City, New Jersey during 1939. The young man, (Jack) is confronted with neighborhood bullies, entering high school, having a crush on a young girl his age that appears to be more mature with than he is – and sometimes does not give him the time of day.


During the Summer of 1939 – The United States was still in the Great Depression, on the brink of entering World War II – and a few of the characters in the book were veterans of World War I. Jack’s best friends have to go out of town to work in different family businesses. One on a family farm in Ohio and the other in a family owned diner in North Jersey. Jack acquires a job working on the boardwalk – behind the scenes of a pitchman’s stand which sells kitchen gadgets. He meets an arrangement of characters such as an Artist, a waitress, a charismatic and worldly Pitchman who is also a womanizer, a Fortune teller, and a loner who supports himself with real estate deals and the stock market.


Circumstances bring Jack accidentally in the path of a Crime Boss. Jack spends his time leading a precarious double life – one in which he attends school, works a part time job – and another where he runs errands for a crime boss – and getting some grown up lessons along the way. Friendships are forged in the most unlikely places – a group of misfits become bonded together – the glue being secrets, business deals - organized crime – murder – redemption – genius – and most important love and loyalty.


Mr. J. Louis Yampolsky not only tells a story of pre World War II Atlantic City (the World’s finest playground) – but tells a story laced historically describing the clothes, homes and furnishings of the area – he writes about the finances of the character Jack’s father in the book – he writes about how much the average person made then – and how much things cost. Yampolsky writes about the Atlantic City Boardwalk, the piers, the High School and the neighborhood in intimate detail as if he were a family member telling you “how it was in the old days”. He writes about how the inhabitants of Atlantic City both love and need the tourists – and yet tire of them when the summer season is over. This is because the tourists during the summer are the area’s lifeblood. The book is written as an older man talking about what had happened to him when he was young. He writes with the wisdom of an older person – but tells the story with excitement and danger looming at the end of every page – forcing you to continue turning the page – to “find out what happens next”. (I read the book in two nights – and found myself crying and wanting more).


I personally loved the book because the story takes place in the area where I grew up in. I knew the neighborhood and its people personally. I recognized the characters in the book so well – And although I did not arrive in the world until 24 years later – in my own personal experience coming of age in pre casino Atlantic City – (the people being the same with different names) not much had changed save a few different stores the make and models of cars and fashion.


I thought this book was well written. If you liked “Boardwalk Empire” – you would love this. I think it would make a wonderful movie. I myself would like to play the part of the Tarot Card Reader. (Just putting this out there)!!

With this I leave you to enjoy the book if you get the chance.

Marguerita Nanfara
AKA - Queen Daisy from Belgium


P.S. The Artwork on the cover on the front and back of the book was created by an artist who lives in Margate – (A town south of Atlantic City). My apologies to the Artist that I don’t have his name on hand to post it.   I would like to tell you that the artwork is beautiful.

What I love about Halloween and our Traditions

                     

                                        

                                                                          



The days leading up to Halloween are an adjustment of both schedules and seasonal changes. We change our plans from going to the beach to attending school functions. Any course of study, hobby or workout regime whether personal or scholastic that has been put aside or ignored is now put back on the calendar. The hazy thick humid air turns clear and cool as the leaves on the trees turn from various shades of green to bold versions of orange, reds and gold shades. It’s as if all the trees are putting on a fashion show vying for your attention to be looked at just once more before they let loose their leaves and hold bare through the winter. And as if I was not paying attention enough – I start to notice the shortening of the days – a minute here – a minute there until it hits me when I feel tired that no it’s not ten o’clock at night – it’s only five fifteen!

If you don’t have to deal with going to school or getting your children back to school – you still cannot help but notice  the shift in the atmosphere as all the kids disappear – from the stores, libraries, streets and parks. It’s a temporary hush. In the early fall – it’s almost eerie. Until late in the afternoon caravans of school busses unload the younger population back into the world.

Appetites change as well too. By the time mid September rolls around – for myself – I am sick of hotdogs, hamburgers, chicken or anything for that matter that is cooked on the grill. Whereas in the beginning of the summer – I always felt a little carcinogen on an over burnt piece of chicken was not only good for me but delicious. By September – seeing all the grilled foods at Labor Day picnics - I just turn my head away. It is no wonder that for nearly a week before October is about to begin – I always feel like I want to go on a diet – a healthy one – one that is good for me – one that I can actually live with and stick to. The reality is not that I am sick of food it’s the kind of food.

I start to hunger for soups, stews and anything roasted. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and carrots – I start to get a hunger for the taste of onions that are caramelized with the vegetables they are keeping company with on the baking pan in the oven. Autumn is the season to turn off the grills and light the oven.

Out of my closet comes the crock pot and in my head I get ideas of cooking and making mouthwatering meals – my creative juices start flowing and I start to get excited. I start to have fantasies of my family members sitting around the table saying, “yumm, ooohhhmmmm, this is goooooood”. One can dream.

Why do I get excited? I’ve asked myself this. I get excited because I can only cook one or two versions of about three things. By the time a new season is about to roll around I am out of ideas. And even if no one outwardly complains about having grilled chicken for the fourth time in the previous week – I can’t bring myself to make it. Inertia sets in when I prepare the same food over and over again day after day. I start to feel as if I am living in the movie “Groundhog Day”.

There are 365 days a year – six days a week in my family it is my job to have dinner of some kind planned or prepared. That’s 312 meals. Divide that by three and if you live in our home you will eat the same food approximately 104 times within a given twelve month period. We do eat together at the dinner table five nights a week. (I don’t do dinners anymore on Saturday nights unless I’m having a moment of temporary insanity which happens sometimes when my hormones shift and my maternal and wifely needs to fulfill my family is stronger than the desire to have the night off from cooking dinner). However – whether I cook the meal – bring home Chinese or let Mrs. Stouffer cook her lasagna for us – it is my job to plan, buy, prepare, and cook the meal.

Did I mention that I can only cook three things? If I’m lucky I have a fourth item up my sleeve that I can sometimes cook that I pull out once in a while – in case of emergency or just sheer luck that with the right ingredients, barometric pressure, phase of moon and the stars being aligned just right. But I don’t count it.

So as I finally get adjusted to our fall work and play schedule, adjust our menus which shift my chores around the house. I look forward to celebrating Halloween.

I absolutely love the Holiday Halloween. When I was a child and we went trick or treating - in our neighborhood the holiday was a level playing field. Unlike the disappointment and letdown of Christmas it did not matter which house was yours – everyone went knocking on the same doors and we basically received the same candy. Halloween was fun and it was something to look forward too. Our neighbors although not rich and mostly always struggling financially were very generous – and in most cases the only time I ever saw a lot of our neighbors was on Halloween night. In the old days Halloween was not just about knocking on doors and walking away with a piece of candy – in our neighborhood – many people invited you inside and actually offered treats. It was not uncommon say for someone to offer hot chocolate or a piece of cake. After so many years of trick or treating – you might not know exactly the name of the woman who lived in a house you were approaching but hoped she was giving out candy apples like she did in previous years. We had good memories and remembered the houses according to the treats. We remembered who gave away homemade cookies and who offered drinks such as apple cider. We received rolls of pennies, apples, nuts and my favorite – “almond joy”.

I dreaded the thought of ever being too old to go trick or treating. And as luck would have it – just when I was about the age of 12 when it was no longer cool to go out – It was me who took my baby sister trick or treating. And as she got older and started to get too cool to go out we were given young cousins to go trick or treating with.

With a few exceptions like having to work (which felt sacrilegious) – the only time I did not go trick-or-treating was when my son Michele was celebrating his first Halloween. He was only three months old – I sat him in his baby seat wearing an outfit that looked like a football uniform. I put a helmet on his head and eye shadow under his eyes and stuffed his shoulders with tissues to look like shoulder pads. I had a large bowl filled with my favorite candies (so I could sample the treats I wanted to give away). We waited anxiously for kiddies to come up to the door yelling “trick or treat”!!!

Sadly – at the time the area that we live was very rural – and the street out front was dark and the cars sped by too fast and there are no sidewalks. No amount of pumpkins, homemade scarecrow sitting on our front porch, lights, candles, or witches hanging in our trees could attract children. It would have been a very lonely and sad Halloween if it were not for my mom, and Aunt Gertie visiting with my then very young cousins (tweens) Allison and Artie. Yeah!!!! If not for family what would some of us do?

As far as family, when most of the year my family does not even talk to me – Halloween is the one holiday when my family puts our dysfunction aside. Who would know that on Halloween pasts while laughing and eating homemade soup – exchanging candy and drinking hot chocolate that certain members of that particular gathering were so mad at each other they would not have spit on each other if they were both on fire? Instead eating delicious soup – gathering of our kids and off to trick or treat we would go. Not just the kids – aunts, cousins, brother in laws. The whole clan who could make it would be there. It is always fun and something to look forward to.

I love Halloween. It’s the one time of year you can dress up and play pretend and its okay to dress up and play pretend. People go through all kinds of artistic endeavors to create their Halloween persona – it’s a time to be who you want to be or even face your fears.

Drag Queens love Halloween – they get to legitimately come out and dress in their finest without fear of anyone thinking anything is wrong. Have a fear of clowns? Dress up like one for Halloween. The old world pagan traditions used Halloween (the Eve of All Souls Day) – to dress up in the very things they were afraid of – ghosts, monsters etc….

And of course the best thing about being a parent of a cute little baby is how much power I had over decorating my sweet little babies – oh what fun I had creating costumes that were made from various pieces of material that were cut, sewn, or glued. I dressed my babies in costumes such as a rabbit, a lobster and even a chocolate chip cookie with a bite taken out. The fun was being as creative as I could, spend as little as possible and the reward and joy I would get would be when people would make such a fuss over how cute my kids were.

This period of time is short lived. Soon I had to surrender to the pull of the cheaply made store bought version of whatever costume my children would want to wear. Once my children started developing an opinion muscle – I had to eventually give in and let them dress up for Halloween the way they wanted. With the exception of the time my then six year old son wanted to be an “Alien Rapper” – I dressed him in jeans with a chain hanging, he wore an Alien mask and a black hooded sweat shirt which I ironed on the words “Alien Rapper” across the back. To my horror – during an indoor Halloween celebration for the kids at my church – a woman pulled me aside and pointed out to my son’s sweatshirt and said, “Look what that kid’s shirt says”!!! I looked and read to my disbelief the words “Alien Raper”.

Now the days of the Halloween season are bittersweet. The cool nights are a comfort after the hot summer. The holiday brings memories of the past and is a constant reminder of myself as I was young, my children when they were young and now – I am reminded of how lucky we are to have the life we live. This year is the first year our son was not with us for Halloween. And it’s because he was away at college. He is now a young adult and will choose how he celebrates. I look forward to full circle when he again joins the fold with perhaps his girlfriend, wife and someday his child as we eat hot soup and trick or treat together again. I know our days are numbered with the Halloweens left to trick or treat with our daughter who is now in high school.

But for now I relish in the current memory of making hot soup and going with my family to my husband’s brother’s house to eat a shared dinner of soup, salad and dessert. Followed by trick or treating in their neighborhood. The smell of wood burning, the crisp air, bright stars in the sky – the crunch of leaves on the ground as we walked from house to decorated house – having a wonderful conversation with my sister in law while we followed along watching and listening to our girls run with a crowd – of ghosts, cats, nurses, various monsters and kings amid other characters screaming and squealing. A fun and memorable night indeed to add to my memories of Halloweens that have passed.

Until later,
Marguerita Nanfara
aka Queen Daisy from Belgium

I should have left Husband Home

We took our firstborn, Michele to Rugters Collage today.  It was emotional enough.  It was enough to do the  driving - and put up with insults from husband - whether real or imagined - my driving mistakes - let alone what lane I was in blah blah blah.  If Joseph is not good at anything - he is a Master of being a back seat driver.   It was enough to take Michele to his Dorm with all his belongings - and use his toilet and say goodby.  What was not enough was getting chance to see where my son will be going to school, spending his days and nights and seeing where he gets his meals.

After we left the Michele's dorm, Husband would not let me walk around to see where things are.  Where is the bookstore?  Where does he get his food?  Where will Michele do his laundry?  What does the rest of the Dorm building look like?  Does it have a sitting area?  Where will Michele have a chance to study or stretch his legs?

Although I may not have been able to find all this out in our short visit.  However is a half an hour to much of a sacrafice for Joseph to allow me even if to ease my anxiety and to perhaps give me some sort of piece of mind?  What was the purpose of going other than driving one way (Joseph agreed to drive home) if I was not going to be allowed to see where my son is going to be living? - And I could have driven home if a half an hour would have exhausted Joseph to the point of rendering him unable to drive.

Joseph has been to collage - and he is familiar with the campus.  I myself have never been there.  Except for the 20 minutes it took to get Michele in his dorm.  I highly doubt my husband's brother did not allow his wife to see where her son is going to school.  I'm most certain that when I speak with various friends throughout the next several weeks - I won't be hearing another mother say that her husband would not even allow her a half an hour to see where their child will be living.

Would one stinkin half hour made a difference?  Why did my husband not allow me to walk around to see where our son is living? 

So please do not ask me how far is the cafeteria (is that what it's even called)?  Don't ask me what the names of the houses he lives next to - please don't ask me how many floors there are in his building - or where the library is.  Please do not ask me about where he will do his laundry or buy any supplies he will need including his books.  Because I do not know.  I was not allowed to look around and find out.

One half an hour was to much for my husband Joseph to allow me to look around the campus to find these things out.

Birthing Our Firstborn to the World

After trying so hard for the pregnancy test after pregnancy test to become positive – I felt both shock and joy. I could not believe the wonderful gift God had given me to become a mother. I longed for it – I pined for it – I imagined it and could taste it.

Unlike most pregnant mothers I know – either during their pregnancies or when they talk about them. I enjoyed being pregnant. I loved making a baby. It was however at some point in my pregnancy that I had to come to the realization that the baby would have to actually come out of my body.

Fear took hold – I needed more pregnancy time. Nine months, (ten lunar) – 40 weeks – 280 days was not enough to hold onto a baby within my belly. I liked the idea of elephants having the opportunity to be pregnant for several years!!

Giving birth was a stage – then raising your children is another stage. The part about giving birth to my son that I never really comprehended in a real sense was that some day he would be a man and would actually leave. On the day you give birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy – you know somewhere in the far distant future – he will have to go and make his own way in the world. What is hard to wrap my brain around is how fast that far distant future has come upon us.

My husband Joseph seems to be handling things well. I for one am falling apart. This past year has been a year of big changes – growth – and of course pruning. We had in one year our Son Michele’s High school senior prom, graduation, learning to drive (which has aged me fifteen years in only six months) celebrating his 18th birthday and now he is leaving for college the day after tomorrow. Our daughter at the same time has graduated junior high, celebrated her holy confirmation and is now entering high school.

Like my pregnancy with Michele, this year has all the emotions of him being birthed to the world – albeit the vagina this time is the front door of our house - the same emotions of birthing him to the world still apply. One minute I’m excited and happy and proud of his new growths and accomplishments – and another moment I’m aggravated and irritated because my opinions don’t hold water and because of late I have become somewhat “stupid” and I “don’t know what I am talking about”.

One of the hardest things I’ve had to do during this past year is to “not do for Michele what he can do for himself.” I’ve had to watch him lose opportunities and painfully watch him suffer consequences good and bad for his actions. In these past weeks I have been a constant hammer of questions like - “what do you need? Are you taking that? Did you make the call? Where’s your list? Do they have a microwave?” etc… flying out of my mouth nailing Michele’s ears nearly every encounter that we see each other. While Michele has been packing to move away to college – I’ve had to step back. Every time I’ve tried to help – has turned into an argument because after all I was not actually helping him but in reality I was telling him what I think he should and should not pack and what I think he should and should not leave behind. It’s been hard to step back and let him decide and allow him to make these choices.

I tell myself its okay if he makes a mistake – how else will he learn? – And who is to say I’m right anyway? I tell myself that it’s probably good for him to forget something – that way he will perhaps come home and visit. Yet I want to pack him with all the comforts of food, bedding, toys, clothing and treats as if he is ten years old going on a camping trip. 

If only we could bear to be near each other enough to get through this painful time - time which is precious and slipping away. As I am having a difficult time parting with Michele – I’m sure he is scared and nervous as well. (Although he did not tell me - I'm just guessing).  He wants his freedom immediately yet he still yanks on my shirt tail - and I am in his way – I need to step aside and let him do what he needs to do. It all comes down to this: FEAR – of the unfamiliar – of making mistakes and of the possible pain we both may experience – and most of all the fear of separation. (I am the one with separation anxiety).

I am both scared and excited about sending Michele into the world. I think despite having me for a mom – he has turned out pretty well. One moment I can’t wait for it to be over with and another – I feel as if “I need more time”. It is what it is. It is all good stuff. And Nature does not wait for me or anybody to be ready.

So this Saturday we will be driving Michele off to his college dorm. My birthing pangs will probably be felt for days and possibly for months – and I will put my trust in God and all the angels to watch over and protect him.

It is time to let Michele test his wings and fly from the nest.