Monday, February 11, 2013
Homemade Vegemite and Marmite Recipes
For all you vegemite and marmite lovers out there, here is a homemade recipe for you.
(In case you wonder why these wonderful products are not sold in the US, it is because some higher-up in our government has decided that they should be a controlled vitamin supplement substance. And therefore can no longer be imported. Go figure......
I discovered the demise of these wonderful cooking products in the US when I tried to bring Vegemite in to the States after visiting Australia three years ago.
Also a military friend tried to slip it past customs in Hawaii when returning from Australia.
Both times, the product was confiscated.
One day soon, I shall have a discussion on the importation and exportation of food products between the US and our world. Please join in!
I discovered the recipe in one of those serendipity moments when I wasn't even looking for it.
It comes from an old Seventh Day Adventist vegetarian recipe book called Nature's Harvest, printed by the Walla Walla General Hospital Auxiliary.
On a side note, SDA vegetarianism needs to evolve to include the wonderful world of spices and herbs. (But that is just my opinion.)
There is an untapped incredible amount of healing properties in herbs and spices, as I have been discovering for the last 20 years!
-----VEGEX - page 44 in the yellow section of Dressings & Spreads & Vegetables----
-----And here is my own recipe that evolved from the VEGEX recipe:
(In general, I seldom write down the amount of the ingredients when I tweek a recipe, but add and mix until I like the taste. So, this is your moment to create your own!
Ingredients:
*Nutritional yeast - Bragg is the best I have used; Red Star produces a good yeast but it may not be organic. Haven't checked since I am able to use Bragg.
*Instant Postum, Pero, etc. (Postum is no longer produced in the States. Sad, sad.)
*Sea salt
*Amino Acids - Bragg brand is the best I have used.
*celery seed, ground - I have a little coffee grinder only used for herbs and spices
*butter
*onion powder
If you are going to attempt to make this, it is assumed that you are familiar with the consistency and taste of vegemite and/or marmite, and therefore will be able to create a palatable substance.
Enjoy!
Have a wonderful and magical day!
Friday, February 8, 2013
Black squirrel, black squirrel, how will it be
Today the fog was frosted on the tips of the hairs of the little black
female squirrel who has taken up residence in our yard and trees and
shed.
She sits now, on a branch of the mountain ash, protesting some irritation for her, although unseen by me. Sometimes, she just grumbles. Oh, she is gone now.
She will have babies soon, and more on that later.
She came to us last fall, from whereabouts unknown, skinny looking, vibrant, young, and must have just left her mother. She had to come from a distance because there were never any black squirrels close to our neighborhood.
It was a joy again to watch her cavorting in the trees and along the ground, skipping, whirling, chasing shadows, and dancing and jumping from tree trunk to ground and back again, again and again. The exuberance of youth.
I think she was heaven sent.
For only last February, we lost our beloved companion, Nacho. More on her later.
And that same summer, the Mother red squirrel who had appeared several times a day on our balcony for almost seven years, and two of those years our little grand-daughter was able to share in the precious wonder of viewing a wild creature so close up, disappeared from my life. But I knew my tiny friend's time was near for squirrels do not have long lives.
This mother squirrel and I, we had an agreement. She would allow me to offer her peanuts in a shell, from my fingertips, as long as I did not touch her. Not even the tip of the tip of her tail hair.
I agreed, although it was hard for me, because at times, I could not hold back, and did touch the tip of the tip of her hair tails. And she would immediately twist her body around to be able to watch the tip of her tail, and eye me with one warning eye, reminding me of our agreement. All I ever really wanted to do was stroke her and hold her against my heart and promise to protect her.
But, what nonsense. Squirrels do not need me to protect them. Although, I did say silent prayers for her to avoid our neighbors three dogs.
This red squirrel also came to us in the fall of the year. I suppose when young squirrels leave the nest, they begin looking for someplace to safely spend the upcoming winter.
And our small backyard has always been a safe haven for all kinds of wild animals. More on that later.
So time passed. She became older and wiser, as I became older and wiser those seven years. She became slower and more determined as I became slower and more determined.
For six springs, my little friend brought her litters of three or four gangly, rowdy young ones to our balcony feeder. Some years, she would have two litters. By late summer, her now half-grown children would start leaving the safety of our yard.
The females stayed longer than the rude males. I was not sorry to see them go. Several daughters actually stayed on for a year or two, and shared the same midden, trees, and territory. I read this is normal. But eventually, they too, would move away to start their own family.
I believe that squirrels are the matriarchs of their species. At least, my little red squirrel was one. She was the boss of all squirrels in her territory.
She was a good Mother. Taught her children well, then sent them out on their own, except perhaps her favorites, who stayed close, for a while. Then as nature exhorts all of God's creatures, even we five fingered ones, we must leave the nest and find our own way.
****
Her seventh spring was a bad one. It was ill-omened from the start.
She began to visit the feeder less and less.
One of her daughters, appeared at the feeder with a dislocated or broken hip. I made an appointment for her at the vet, but before I could gather all the necessary protective gear to capture her and transport her, she disappeared from the balcony. I saw her twice after that. Her mother close by.
At breeding season, my little Mother was harassed mercilessly by males to the point that I felt I needed to intervene. One rainy afternoon, following a noisy and rough mating session of several males relentlessly chasing her and a daughter, I found her by following her weak chittering protest, soaked to the skin, panting, and almost listless among one of our heavy flowering vines.
Above her were several males, stacked branch above branch, like lions, twitching their tales, taut little sinewy bodies complaining loudly, my interference.
As I moved away the vines, intent on offering her some respite from the males by taking her to a safer place, she gathered strength, and turned her face full upon me: she reminded me of our agreement.
For a brief moment, my own mothering instincts kicked in to ignore her and save her.
And then, Spirit reminded me that this episode was Life. Spiraling slowly. Relentlessly, And that all my machinations would not prevent the end results.
And so, I assented to her desire, spread the vines back over her, and backed away, scowling furiously at the males, as if they were the cause of her discomfort. They were not. This was nature taking its course.
I went indoors to continue sewing on the dress I was making for my granddaughter.
The next day, I found little Mother lying unmoving on a low branch of one of our cottonwood trees. She was in the same spot, same position all day. By that time, I was planning on getting the ladder and going up the tree to see if she was alive. And if not, I would leave her for the scavenger birds.
But by nightfall she was gone.
The next day, I looked for signs that perhaps our resident Hawk or Owl had made a meal of her. But there were no signs.
She did not come to the feeder for several days.
I knew that if she survived, she would have her litter in about six weeks.
She did not come again to the litter for almost a week. The blue jays ate her peanuts and grapes. Purple grapes were her favorite.
And then she appeared. Rather bedraggled, seemed to have lost some hair, plumper than before (but is that not the way of it as we age), and slower than before. I told myself it was because she carried babies.
Through the course of her pregnancy, her appearances were spotty. The blue jays began to come on a regular basis. More on that later.
She brought several of her children to the feeder, but none of them stayed in the safety of the yard.
By late summer, Mother squirrel came no longer to the balcony.
I knew her time with me was over. And I wept over her loss.
***
And so now half of winter has passed.
Our house is too silent. I no longer needed to take care of Nacho.
I no longer needed to put out fruit and nuts for the Mother. But I did: cutting the grapes into small pieces and crushing the peanuts and mixing them with breadcrumbs, then sprinkling them along the railing and over the ground for the cardinals, and sparrows, and finches, and the winter juncos.
I figured tiny pieces are too small for the jays to sweep in and steal.
Our yard has been visited from time to time by noisy males, who stay a while, then move on.
I did not put out nuts and fruit for them as I did not want them to stay.
**
And then, last fall, a passel of youngsters (squirrels) showed up in our yard and the neighbors yards. Here was uncontested territory!
And the little Black squirrel was the winner.
I think not by strength, nor guile, but by whatever force drives this small
Sister.
She is here to stay, I think. She has been here through the winter. Was part of the noisy and rough breeding season, and comes regularly to the balcony.
She is growing plump with babies, and I will start putting out different grapes to see which one she prefers.
**
She visited the balcony this morning, and no longer runs away when I move the window curtain to watch her better, or move about the room as I work on my crafts. She will learn I won't hurt her.
Perhaps she will soon take peanuts from my finger after we make the unspoken agreement.
Tears come to my eyes in remembrance of all that I have lost.
But, there is the future. And Spirit knows what I will gain.
I look forward to what this little Mother will teach me.
**
Life is spiraling again.
She sits now, on a branch of the mountain ash, protesting some irritation for her, although unseen by me. Sometimes, she just grumbles. Oh, she is gone now.
She will have babies soon, and more on that later.
She came to us last fall, from whereabouts unknown, skinny looking, vibrant, young, and must have just left her mother. She had to come from a distance because there were never any black squirrels close to our neighborhood.
It was a joy again to watch her cavorting in the trees and along the ground, skipping, whirling, chasing shadows, and dancing and jumping from tree trunk to ground and back again, again and again. The exuberance of youth.
I think she was heaven sent.
For only last February, we lost our beloved companion, Nacho. More on her later.
And that same summer, the Mother red squirrel who had appeared several times a day on our balcony for almost seven years, and two of those years our little grand-daughter was able to share in the precious wonder of viewing a wild creature so close up, disappeared from my life. But I knew my tiny friend's time was near for squirrels do not have long lives.
This mother squirrel and I, we had an agreement. She would allow me to offer her peanuts in a shell, from my fingertips, as long as I did not touch her. Not even the tip of the tip of her tail hair.
I agreed, although it was hard for me, because at times, I could not hold back, and did touch the tip of the tip of her hair tails. And she would immediately twist her body around to be able to watch the tip of her tail, and eye me with one warning eye, reminding me of our agreement. All I ever really wanted to do was stroke her and hold her against my heart and promise to protect her.
But, what nonsense. Squirrels do not need me to protect them. Although, I did say silent prayers for her to avoid our neighbors three dogs.
This red squirrel also came to us in the fall of the year. I suppose when young squirrels leave the nest, they begin looking for someplace to safely spend the upcoming winter.
And our small backyard has always been a safe haven for all kinds of wild animals. More on that later.
So time passed. She became older and wiser, as I became older and wiser those seven years. She became slower and more determined as I became slower and more determined.
For six springs, my little friend brought her litters of three or four gangly, rowdy young ones to our balcony feeder. Some years, she would have two litters. By late summer, her now half-grown children would start leaving the safety of our yard.
The females stayed longer than the rude males. I was not sorry to see them go. Several daughters actually stayed on for a year or two, and shared the same midden, trees, and territory. I read this is normal. But eventually, they too, would move away to start their own family.
I believe that squirrels are the matriarchs of their species. At least, my little red squirrel was one. She was the boss of all squirrels in her territory.
She was a good Mother. Taught her children well, then sent them out on their own, except perhaps her favorites, who stayed close, for a while. Then as nature exhorts all of God's creatures, even we five fingered ones, we must leave the nest and find our own way.
****
Her seventh spring was a bad one. It was ill-omened from the start.
She began to visit the feeder less and less.
One of her daughters, appeared at the feeder with a dislocated or broken hip. I made an appointment for her at the vet, but before I could gather all the necessary protective gear to capture her and transport her, she disappeared from the balcony. I saw her twice after that. Her mother close by.
At breeding season, my little Mother was harassed mercilessly by males to the point that I felt I needed to intervene. One rainy afternoon, following a noisy and rough mating session of several males relentlessly chasing her and a daughter, I found her by following her weak chittering protest, soaked to the skin, panting, and almost listless among one of our heavy flowering vines.
Above her were several males, stacked branch above branch, like lions, twitching their tales, taut little sinewy bodies complaining loudly, my interference.
As I moved away the vines, intent on offering her some respite from the males by taking her to a safer place, she gathered strength, and turned her face full upon me: she reminded me of our agreement.
For a brief moment, my own mothering instincts kicked in to ignore her and save her.
And then, Spirit reminded me that this episode was Life. Spiraling slowly. Relentlessly, And that all my machinations would not prevent the end results.
And so, I assented to her desire, spread the vines back over her, and backed away, scowling furiously at the males, as if they were the cause of her discomfort. They were not. This was nature taking its course.
I went indoors to continue sewing on the dress I was making for my granddaughter.
The next day, I found little Mother lying unmoving on a low branch of one of our cottonwood trees. She was in the same spot, same position all day. By that time, I was planning on getting the ladder and going up the tree to see if she was alive. And if not, I would leave her for the scavenger birds.
But by nightfall she was gone.
The next day, I looked for signs that perhaps our resident Hawk or Owl had made a meal of her. But there were no signs.
She did not come to the feeder for several days.
I knew that if she survived, she would have her litter in about six weeks.
She did not come again to the litter for almost a week. The blue jays ate her peanuts and grapes. Purple grapes were her favorite.
And then she appeared. Rather bedraggled, seemed to have lost some hair, plumper than before (but is that not the way of it as we age), and slower than before. I told myself it was because she carried babies.
Through the course of her pregnancy, her appearances were spotty. The blue jays began to come on a regular basis. More on that later.
She brought several of her children to the feeder, but none of them stayed in the safety of the yard.
By late summer, Mother squirrel came no longer to the balcony.
I knew her time with me was over. And I wept over her loss.
***
And so now half of winter has passed.
Our house is too silent. I no longer needed to take care of Nacho.
I no longer needed to put out fruit and nuts for the Mother. But I did: cutting the grapes into small pieces and crushing the peanuts and mixing them with breadcrumbs, then sprinkling them along the railing and over the ground for the cardinals, and sparrows, and finches, and the winter juncos.
I figured tiny pieces are too small for the jays to sweep in and steal.
Our yard has been visited from time to time by noisy males, who stay a while, then move on.
I did not put out nuts and fruit for them as I did not want them to stay.
**
And then, last fall, a passel of youngsters (squirrels) showed up in our yard and the neighbors yards. Here was uncontested territory!
And the little Black squirrel was the winner.
I think not by strength, nor guile, but by whatever force drives this small
Sister.
She is here to stay, I think. She has been here through the winter. Was part of the noisy and rough breeding season, and comes regularly to the balcony.
She is growing plump with babies, and I will start putting out different grapes to see which one she prefers.
**
She visited the balcony this morning, and no longer runs away when I move the window curtain to watch her better, or move about the room as I work on my crafts. She will learn I won't hurt her.
Perhaps she will soon take peanuts from my finger after we make the unspoken agreement.
Tears come to my eyes in remembrance of all that I have lost.
But, there is the future. And Spirit knows what I will gain.
I look forward to what this little Mother will teach me.
**
Life is spiraling again.
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