New Year Resolutions and Mango Coconut Cod

I've never been one to make new year resolutions. I like to think that through the year I adapt, change and grow as needed. (I like to kid myself like that)


But this year I have made a few promises to myself. I'll just mention one here. In 2012 I want to live a healthier, happier life. I think the two go hand in hand. By healthier I mean I want to find a way out of sadness and into happiness. I'm not sure exactly how to do this but I do know that happy is better than sad and sad is not healthy. I found this quote (on where else, the internet) and I have taped it to my bathroom mirror so that I can read it everyday:

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” -C.S. Lewis


This year I am going to try to let go of the sadness and embrace the wonderful, happy memories of the past and the promise of the future. 


How about you? Any New Year's Resolutions?


I was in the mood yesterday to create something. Something healthy. Something delicious. My local fish monger had some beautiful looking cod on display yesterday. He told me it just came in so I had him wrap up a half pound.


I stopped by my local supermarket on the way home to pick up some staples and noticed some perfectly ripe mangoes in the produce aisle. In the cart they went. 


Sometimes the universe supplies us with just what we need to create something wonderful... fresh cod, ripe mangoes. This is what I came up with.




Pan Seared Mango-Coconut Cod (serves 2)


1/2 pound fresh cod fillet
1 ripe mango, peeled and sliced
1 tablespoon grated sweetened coconut
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
salt and pepper to taste


Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.


Wash and pat dry the cod. Remove any small bones using a needle nose plier (yes, I keep a clean needle nose plier in my kitchen drawer just for this purpose, deboning fish)


Sprinkle cod with salt and pepper.


Melt butter with oil in a large oven proof skillet.


When butter is melted and sizzling hot add a few slices of the mango and gently saute. Add the cod pieces top side down. Saute on medium high for 2 to 3 minutes or until the fish is halfway cooked. 


Flip the fish and spoon the softened mango over the top. Sprinkle with one tablespoon coconut and place in the oven to finish cooking (about 5 minutes).


I served the cod with steamed carrots glazed with honey, the rest of the fresh mango slices and tri-colored couscous. All of which made me very happy.

Mangoes are ripe when they yield to gentle pressure. Store them on your counter or windowsill, not the fridge.

Aren't mangoes beautiful? 

Pan searing the cod with the mango slices. The mangoes will soften and make their own sauce.

Finishing the cod in the oven will ensure a moist, perfectly cooked fish. 

The mango and coconut would also taste great on chicken or shrimp.




Bon Appetite and Happy New Year everyone. 

A Deep Sadness, Sharing and Southern Fried Chicken

At six and half months into a journey that I would never wish upon my worst enemy I have settled into a deep sadness.

Gone (I hope) are the gut wrenching tear fests, the vomiting, the shaking and the fear.
A gentle, deep sadness has replaced the anxiety and bone crushing grief.

My tears now come in gentle streams. Memories come and go. A song, a thought, a colorful cardinal at my backyard feeder, all bring on a gentle remembrance of a life once lived. A life once shared. Dreams. Hope and promise. A life ended in its prime; cut short by circumstances beyond the control of mere mortals.

I have found that the answer to my grief is giving. Of myself. Of the one talent that I can share. I can cook.

My neighbor, just 36 years young has recently been diagnosed with Lymphoma. She has three young children and is in the fight of her life.

So I cook.

Comfort food.
Nourishing food.
Happy food.
Frivolous Food.
Once a week (sometimes twice) I make the trudge through the snow and slush to deliver something hot.
Something fun.
Something nourishing.
Soup. Bread. Cookies.
Casseroles that can be reheated after a day of chemotherapy. Sweets that can be dispensed to hungry littles.
Soup that soothes a nauseous stomach.
Sweet cornbread.
Roasted Chicken.
A light salad.
Anything that keeps my hands busy and my heart full.

Lest you think I am good. Or a saint; I have found that the answer to my pain is to give. In giving I receive. In giving and contributing to the hope of healing I see life prolonged - life healed.

Life enjoyed and life celebrated. Life at its best - around a table of good food, being shared by people who are in love. In love with life. In love with healing. In love with hope.

I hope you enjoy this recipe. It is designed to put some "south in your mouth" and a smile in your belly. But most of all it is meant to be shared.

Southern Fried Chicken: serves 4 plus neighbors

One whole chicken, quartered into legs, thigh, wing and breast portion. Rinsed and patted dry.
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons white vinegar
1 tablespoon Louisiana Hot Sauce (or Tabasco)
1/2 cup flour
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups plain bread crumbs
Canola Oil for frying (don't worry about calories or cholesterol - this recipe is all about comfort)

In a deep bowl combine the milk, hot sauce and vinegar, let sit for 10 minutes. Add the chicken. Make sure the milk mixture completely covers the chicken pieces. Refrigerate two hours or overnight (up to 24 hours)

Place the flour in a large ziploc bag, add salt and shake to combine.
Place eggs in a shallow pie plate and beat slightly with a fork.
Place bread crumbs in a second pie plate and set alongside the eggs.

Remove chicken pieces one at a time and shake in flour. Dip in egg, then coat with bread crumbs. Arrange coated chicken pieces on a rimmed cookie sheet. Repeat until all chicken pieces are coated.

Pour and pat any remaining bread crumbs over coated chicken pieces. Refrigerate 1 hour or up to 24 hours.

Heat oil to 265 degrees* in a shallow skillet (if you have an electric frying pan - wonderful!)

Gently add the coated chicken pieces to the hot oil and fry - about 8 minutes per side - turning until golden brown on all sides. Remove to a brown paper bag covered cookie sheet to drain the oil and keep crisp**

Serve with sweetened corn bread, mashed potatoes, steamed green beans and love. Remember to share with someone.

A Cook's Notes: *Cooking the chicken at 265 degrees will insure that it is crisp on the outside and perfectly done on the inside. Any higher and the chicken will crisp too early leaving it raw on the inside.

** Paper towels tend to get soggy with fried foods and will make the underside of you finished product soft and mushy. Use recycled brown paper bags from your grocery store. They absorb the grease and pull it away from the food, leaving it crispy and brown - the way you intended it to be.

The Face of Grief

I looked in the mirror this morning and saw a woman ten years older than myself.

I was surprised, but not shocked.

I can now recognize the face of grief.

I have met many people (mostly women) over the last few weeks who have shared with me their grief story. I recognized that they had one before they ever told me.

The local florist who has now been to my home at least a dozen times lost her husband seventeen years ago. She held my hand and cried with me and told me to call her, anytime. Then she called me, to remind me to call her, anytime.

My neighbor's mother, whose husband passed this February. She slipped a piece of paper into my hand with her phone number on it. And whispered, "blessings". I saw the same look in her eyes that is now in mine.

A client of my husband's told me that he still has a voice message on his phone from his sister. It is five years old and is the last time he heard her voice before she was killed in a car accident. I recognized our friend grief in his voice as soon as I picked up the phone.

My sisters voices when we speak. I know they are grieving. I hear it in their voices and see it in their faces.

My children who are no longer littles, middles or kidadults. They are adults now. Living in a grown up world of sorrow.

My parents, who have aged more over the last few weeks than in the past few years.

My in-laws, my husband's family. All of them with a new sound, a heavy heart.

To know grief is a terrible, sorrowful thing.

Some of you may remember that during Christmas last year I was grocery shopping and a woman and her college age son were behind me at the checkout. She was sobbing quietly and the young man was gently rubbing her shoulder and telling her "it will be alright". At the time I thought they were having financial difficulties, you know, making ends meet during the holidays.

I now know that what I saw was the face of grief. They were suffering a terrible loss. At the time I did not recognize that face. Now, I will never forget it.