Delicious Without Eggs

My most recent trip to the grocery store caused me to question whether or not I should continue to purchase eggs. At almost four dollars a dozen I’m thinking maybe I need to cook and bake without them.

Hunting through my old recipes, I came up with several desserts that do not use eggs. As my way of being helpful to budget-wise cooks out there, though not helpful at all to egg farmers, I will be sharing some of these recipes with my readers.

We are heading to Michigan (one of my favorite places) this week for a two-week vacation. While we are gone, no-egg dessert recipes will appear on this blog. These are recipes our family has enjoyed for many years.

The recipe below for applesauce cake is exhibit one in defense of deliciousness without eggs. It is always a crowd pleaser.

Applesauce Cake

From the kitchen of Verla Powers

    2 c. brown sugar                          

    1 c. butter                             

    2 c. applesauce                                                            

    1 c. raisins                                                       

    1 c. nuts  

    2 1/2 c. flour  

    1 tsp. each: baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg 

    1/4 tsp. salt                                                      

Cream butter and sugar together. Add applesauce, raisins, and nuts. Sift flour, baking soda, salt, and spices together. Add to mixture. Gradually beat after each addition. Pour into a greased and floured 9" x 13" pan. Bake at 375° for 30 minutes.

~Image from cakechooser

Left Behind

The hole in my heart has always been there. It was there when I silently screamed for the approval of my parents. It was there when I scorned teachers who believed in my abilities. It was there when I reached out for friendship while hiding behind a wall of isolation. It was there when I lay by a little gray stone and cried, “Why not me?” And it was there the day my dream of making a difference, being significant, was torn to shreds. That was the day my bloodied body was lifted by strong arms, placed on broad shoulders, and carried through a steaming South-East Asia jungle. I heard the “wop, wop, wop” of helicopter blades and then everything turned black.

Trained to do battle; trained to leave no man behind. I am a Marine and I am the man who should have been left behind. The pain of recovery pales in light of the emptiness caused by the hole in my heart. A military decoration does nothing to fill the void.

My family attempted to embrace me but I rejected them for the streets, another battlefield. Loneliness, cold, and fear are now dulled by drink, but the hole in my heart remains.

Last night our encampment was raided. A police officer took my possessions and chased me from my home under the bridge. His eyes looked sad. He said he was sorry. “Orders,” he said. I understand. I’m a Marine.

Now I sit in a park where hundreds pass but no one sees. My makeshift tent is gone. My birth certificate is gone. My brother's picture is gone. My discharge papers are gone. My purple heart is gone. My warm coat and gloves are gone. Shadows of towering buildings remind me of the darkness of a city that has turned its back. This country, my country that I pledged to serve and defend, seems blind to my existence. Am I a son? Am I a brother? Am I a Marine? Am I the one left behind?

~ Artwork by Big Bro who blogs over at String Too Short to Tie.

(The inspiration for this story came from pictures my brother drew and sent to me. His challenge for me was to write a story to go with them.)

Rule Breaker

Generally, I’ve been known as one who stresses over and keeps rules. However, I’m guessing that my neighbors now characterize me as a rule breaker.

I’ve posted previously about the scarcity of beauty in our area and a condominium rule that forbids planting anything in the ground. Until Mother's Day I had been quite content with three large pots of beautiful flowers, but this was the day I decided to ignore the rule. So I dug a big hole in the ground and planted a beautiful hibiscus plant (a Mother’s Day gift from son, Dale, and his wife, Kayce.)

Am I repentant? Not yet. But I may become very annoyed if our landscapers notice the infraction and pull it up. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying its beauty.

This plant has three colors of blooms: pink, orange and yellow. The yellow was not blooming when I took the picture this week. (The plant is located by our front steps and hidden somewhat from the street behind the association’s rosebush. Quite clever - no?)