When Adam and I first started dating in college, we spent hours talking.  We talked about our dream jobs, our friends from home, our favorite ice cream flavor, our families and how we grew up.  Through these conversations we found that we were pretty different.  

Adam knew what he wanted to do.  I still wasn’t completely sure.

Some of Adams friends went to college.  Some went straight to work.  Some were in the military.  I didn’t have one friend who didn’t go to college and many were on the path to grad school.

Plain old vanilla for him.  Mint chocolate chip for me.

His parents had been together since before high school and he had two older sisters and a brother less than two years younger then him.  My parents met in Business School and I was the oldest with seven years spanning between myself and my youngest sibling.

He grew up in a small town on a lot of land.  I grew up in a bunch of different towns, but spent most of my childhood in a very suburban city on a golf course.  

His family vacationed in Florida every year.  My family never went to the same place twice.  

In the summer, his family liked to go to lakes in Indiana and go boating.  My family spent summers on Lake Michigan and would park it on the beach.  

Adam’s parents were much more leangient when it came to curfews, girls, and grades.  Mine… were pretty strict.

But, one of the things we did find that we had in common was our family’s would eat dinner together almost every night of the week.  Even with multiple kids, jobs, practice, homework and more, dinner as a family at the table was important.  And, we both liked it.

It may seem simple, but this value that Adam had made him all the more attractive because it was something I valued too.

But, it turns out that eating around the table is anything but simple… for anyone.  

It’s not just impactful for Adam and I, but it actually has a huge impact on children and families around the country.

Since the election, Adam and I have read Hillbilly Elegy and Our Kids.  Both are very interesting, timely and make you think.  

Hillbilly Elegy is a quicker read.  It’s a memoir by JD Vance, who is our age and from Ohio.  His story about growing up in a tumultuous, self proclaimed “hillbilly” family is pretty captivating.  It made us sad, inspired and, at times, made us both laugh out loud.  

Our Kids is full of stories of families near poverty and families that are better off, but live in the same areas.  Or, at least nearby.  It’s a bit more analytical and is full of scissors graphs telling the story of how wide the gap has gotten between these groups over the years in terms of education, opportunities and upward mobility.

But, one thing that both of these books hit on was the importance of dinner as a family at a table.

JD tells stories of the many men that came in and out of his mother’s life and how she wasn’t the most stable parent.  But, of the times where things felt most secure- maybe it was because he lived with his grandparents, was visiting an uncle, or the guy his mom was dating was in fact, a pretty decent man- there was always a family dinner.

Our Kids spends a whole section of a chapter on the trends of family dinners over the last 40 years.  The author compares families with college educated parents vs. high school educated parents with the dining as a family gap widening significantly starting in the 1990s.  This graph is highly correlated to the social and cognitive development of children from the same kind of families.

I have always felt like there is something to say about dinner as a family that is more than just food.  I even would say that getting families around the table often can change the world.  I have written about this thought here and mentioned it in conversations.  

Now, with these graphs and stories on top of my own experience, I know both of these things to be true.  It’s not just about eating food.  When a family eats dinner together consistently there is nurturing, structure, security, and dialogue that might otherwise not happen.  When children are raised in this kind of environment, they thrive.  They learn so much and have meaningful conversations.  They gain confidence and grit.  All of this will make them able, strong and successful as adults.

When I am asked why I love food so much, I am typically quick to respond with something about my love “gathering around the table.”  

I love it when my dining room table is full.  (Which is easy to do… We are going to need a bigger table someday!)

I love being at my friend’s and family’s table.  

I work for sorority and fraternity food service and nothing makes me happier than seeing full tables in a chapter dining room.

I love that Adam and I take the time to sit at the table together every night even though it’s just the two of us after Theo has gone to bed.

And, I know that this love- combined with our values and the bit of evidence from these books on family dinners- means that gathering together around the table is something that will be a priority.  Even on the days when it feels like everything I do is getting a C, (… a real feeling somedays) there will be a strong effort to have dinner as a family.  

It may not happen everyday.  And, even with the best intentions, it likely won’t be perfect.

But, because of the positive impact on our children and the joy both Adam and I get by eating as a family, gathering around the table as a family to a meal is something we will strive to do for the rest of our lives.

Food gives us this unique platform to help shape our homes, our love, our kids and the future.  I love that about food.

 

Just to level with you all, the first sentence of this blog post makes me nervous to put out there. There is so much emotion out there that a part of me knows that this one little sentence may tick someone off. Which sucks, but it’s my blog… so here it goes:

I have felt a little confused through the recent resurgence of feminism.

I love dynamic and powerful women. I root for them. I strive to be one. But, as gender roles go, I will be the first to admit that I do lean quite female. Particularly when it comes to my interests.

I like clothes, maintaining a nice home, gardening and the occasional gossip magazine. I love a good pedicure, dinner out with the girls, low intensity exercise and being a hostess. Babies, fresh cut flowers and crisp bottles of rose make me happy. The Paper Source, Anthropologie, and little off the beaten path boutiques are my jam.

Guess what else I really like to do? Cook.

And, my favorite person to cook for? My husband.

How 1950’s of me. Right?

How anti-feminism. Right?

Cooking… for a man.

But, like it or not, it’s true.

Through all the recent press, hashtags and articles I have felt lost. I even have felt a little bad for liking these things.

This confusion has turned to sadness and then last weekend it became disappointment.

The Audi Super Bowl commercial where the narrator asks “What will I tell my daughter?” struck my heart in a way that I don’t believe the creators had intended.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLvcMj3U4gA

I am all for equality in every sense. I am definitely for equality in the workforce, particularly equal pay.

When and if I am blessed with a daughter I already know what I will tell her: I will tell her she can be and do whatever she wants. She can grow up and change the world. I hope to guide her to have a strong sense of self and to not be dependent on a man.

And, I think by being a working mom and a female farmer, I am setting a good example. I also hope that by being one of the many women redefining motherhood, careers and farming that I am also paving a way for all of our daughters.

But, I have a son.

A wonderful, super-cute nine month old son.

A little boy who has this amazing ability to make anyone happy with his smile. A son who has looked at this world with his bright blue eyes wide open since Day One. Two things I hope he never loses.

… That and his chubby feet, but I will take what I can get.

What about him?

What am I supposed to tell him?

How I am supposed to feel when the world is shouting “The Future is Female!”?

What do I tell him when he sees this?

What does this mean for my son’s future? The future for all boys?

This is so hard for me because as his mom I will tell him is exactly what I would tell a daughter: He can be and do anything he wants. He can grow up and change the world.

… But, I can’t help but wonder, will the world tell him something different?

And, just as I hope to raise independent girls, I will not be raising a helpless man.

My son will do his laundry and will be taught to read tags so he doesn’t ruin anything he owns. He will be expected to pick up after himself. He will know how to sew on a button and run a quick stitch… because 1. That’s really all I can teach him. And, 2. It’s really all you need to know in a bind. Tailors are around for a reason.

My son will also know how to cook. God willing, he will know how to cook well.

Even before kids, Adam and I talked about the importance of getting children into the kitchen. We plan on involving them in the cooking process at an early age. There are so many studies that show that this makes young kids more confident and inclined to eat healthy foods. We have also talked about instilling responsibility, skill and hopefully a little creativity in our children by making them in charge of one meal a week as teenagers.

Cooking is not just for women. It’s not just for grandmas. It’s not just for 1950s housewives.

Cooking is a life skill for everyone.

Cooking and food are great equalizers because we all have to eat. No one is exempt from this.

I am a product of the “You Go Girl” generation which was impactful, lucky and something I have totally embraced. It is also something I don’t want to go anywhere.

But, while we continue to fight for girls, let’s also take a few cues from food. 

Let’s not make people feel bad about something that they love.

And, let’s not forget about the boys.

Cooking and Food is gender ambiguous. It is for everyone. And, I love that about food.

In response to my first “Why I love food” post, which was based solely on the joy of the taste of food: Yes, I totally get that eating solely for pleasure is not the best idea.

And, some of my sentences about the joy of warm cookies, cheese and wine probably was a little cruel to even put out on the internet in January.

So, many apologies. I have been there. I have done the 21 Day this. 30 day that. Elimination diets and more. I have done the shakes and the supplements. I fed my body tons of fake food disguised as “low fat” and “diet” for years.

But, I have found myself at a place where I am very at peace with food and my body.

Maybe it’s a nearly 30 thing.

Or, maybe it’s the appreciation for my body as it has nurioushed and carried a baby. The appreciation for body that has carried me too. Through college, a thriving career, workouts, love, friendships, travel, into motherhood, and more.

Or, maybe it’s because I have just learned to love foods that are real and good for me.

I know that I am by no means the vision of absolute perfect health and I know I will probably never again be the skinny gal I was when I was at the peak of my half marathon days, but that’s okay.

Over the years, particularly the last few as I have worked hard to incorporate more whole foods into my diet, I have learned to have a relationship with food that is based on love versus limits and self hate. If it’s a special occasion or there is a cause for a celebration, I don’t bat an eye at something super decadent. I enjoy every bite like it deserves and so do I.

But, most days I choose to eat intentionally; creating balanced flavors and using a variety of healthy ingredients. I aim to be smart in my choices- gravitating towards vegetables, being mindful of the origin of my meat and dairy, and keeping sauces simple and light.

The tools for creating a healthy lifestyle like this are plentiful.

Fortunately, it’s a really great time for whole foods because there is so much awareness about the benefits of vegetables, good proteins and real foods. You don’t have to go too far to find really neat and interesting, nutrient dense ingredients. And, it’s also pretty easy to to find fun and exiting recipes.

So, to me, if you are feeling a void it might just be a matter of mindset.

I feel like I eat in a healthy way not because I “should,” but because I want to.

And, if you are struggling with this mindset, search for a little wisdom and think of your food choices as fuel for your body. For your life. Good fuel that will energize and will carry you. It will help your mind and body be strong at work and in your relationships.

This is how I have learned to think of food… And, I love this about food.

The First piece in my “What I Love About Food…” posts. To read more about my exercise in reenergizing my passion for food check out my opening post.

It may seem like a totally obvious place to start, and maybe you feel the same way, but I love food because it just tastes so good.

I once heard some one close to me say, “I wish I could just take a pill and get the nutrients my body needs and that be that.”

Wait.  WHAT?!

I was speechless.

Honestly, I couldn’t comprehend the whole idea.

My heart actually hurt.

Where is the joy in that?

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and give her a good shake.

I love eating.

I love the comfort of something warm. The crunchiness of something super fresh. The excitement of something bold. The brightness of every unique favor and spice.

There is a clip in the beginning of Pixar’s Ratatouille where Remi, the rat, is tasting different pieces of food. Different, beautiful music plays and colors swirl around him like fireworks with each bite illustrating how his every sense is engaged. Then, combining the food he creates a whole new experience with the flavors.

 

Watch Here.

I love this because I know the feeling all too well.

When a dark chocolate is paired with the perfect red wine. BAM!

A slightly sweet jam is paired with a strong stinky cheese. KA-POW!

Lemoney, pepperer basil with tangy baltsamic and creamy, fresh made mozzarella? Cue the finale.

It’s fun and exciting. My tongue does a happy dance. I too have swirly colors dance all around my head.

But, even just the most fresh, plain tomato, cucumber, or sugar snap pea straight from the garden can do the same thing to me.

And, I love that about food.

There’s something weird that happens when you surround yourself with your passion… You can get a little jaded.

There is no doubt in my mind that one of the great loves of my life is indeed food.

I studied hospitality and work in the food industry. I have this sweet little food blog and a growing organic farm. I cook often and rarely repeat a recipe. I maintain a huge backyard garden for the main purpose of providing my family with food. I get food magazines, read cookbooks, listen to food podcasts, watch cooking shows and documentaries.  I follow social media platforms showing me what chefs, restauranteurs, bloggers and food writers are up to every moment of every day.

But, I think I am so infiltrated in food culture that in recent months it all started to get a little stale.

I found myself rolling my eyes when I even just heard the word “foodie.” It’s just so overdone; It started to feel meaningless.  Everyone with a bowl of pho and an Instagram account is a #foodie.  Right?

As I read articles about 2017 food trends and things like “heirloom tomatoes,” “craft beer,” and “charcuterie” topped the list and I couldn’t help but think, “Okay.  That’s nice, but those are not really a new things…”  Right?

I also found myself holding back, even though my job as a blogger, on the farm and professionally is to make people excited about food.  

I didn’t try to ooze “food” because there was somewhere deep in my subconscious that felt like this really doesn’t make me special. Everyone likes food.  Right?

Well.  

Then, in late December, I found myself in a professional situation and a potential client told me- to my face- that they did not feel like I was as passionate about food as my competition.

… What?!

My cheeks burned.  I was a little confused.  Hurt too.

I love food.  I have so much of my life invested in food.  How did this not come across?  Part of me wanted to scream my love of food down their throats.  I wanted tell them that they had it all wrong.  They were crazy. But, part of me couldn’t help but wonder: Had I really become that cynical?  

Indifferent?

… Bored? 

I had to do some soul searching.  

During this time, a good friend of mine reached out to me for support in starting a food blog.

I chose to take the high road and not to let my jaded mind get the best of me.  I fed off of her excitement as we brainstormed titles and themes. She sent me a list of ideas for blog names that she created.  Quite a few of them left me wanting to read and know more. A great start for her.  

And, great jump start for my little black heart.

I couldn’t help but think of the similar lists I made in 2012 as I brainstormed my ideas for what would become Bloom.  Then, I was challenged in a job in all the wrong ways; but, I had this drive and creativity for something more.  At 24-25, I found myself writing ideas down all the time.

I dug out the folder in my office that I have saved from that season of my life. Random pages of notebook paper, post it notes, and sheets from four different food vendors (a sure signpost of my job at the time) poured out.

Finally, after one moment of crazy inspiration, at the mall no less, where I seriously had to have looked like a crazy person clambering to find something to write on, I bought a notebook.  (Seriously. It’s a little hazy, but I think I might of plowed through a group of middle schooler’s trying to flirt as a hauled myself towards a bookstore fearful the thought would leave my mind before I could get it on paper.)

I flipped through that notebook- that I wrote in before it was purchased- as well.

(Fun Fact: Because of that moment, to this day, I always carry a little notebook with me. You never know where inspiration will strike!)

My scribbles in different colored pens of ideas, doodles, brainstorms and reflections from such an inspired time of my life stared back at me.

I paged through my thoughts and smiled.

I didn’t know what this blog would become. I barely knew if Adam and I would be any good at gardening on a large scale. I had never canned or owned a chicken. I even teetered on the idea of it being a young person career blog.

But, then I found a page that made me stop.  At the top it read: “WHAT DO I LOVE?”  On the three pages that followed were all all sort of topics that bring me joy. 

But listed first?

FOOD.

There it was.  Number 1.  Above family, friends, my home, art, stories, learning, leading.  Above Adam.  (Sorry, Trost! I promise I love you much more than food. You are the the great love story of my life.)

But, like great loves, there are up’s and down’s.  Times of extreme passion and times that test you.   

So, I am going to take the first part of this year to reconnect with this great love of mine.  

Instead of being a constant recipe machine, I will be dissecting the “why” behind my passion for food each week explaining why and how they are so special to me.  These posts will range from thought provoking to silly.  Short and sweet to, knowing me, too wordy and long.  Deep to totally obvious and on the surface.  (Spoiler alert: the first one will be just that.)

But, my goal is to completely reignite my passion.  While this may seem a little self indulgent, another main purpose of all of this is to pass it on.

Because just like food, love is better shared.

Earlier this month I read (… listened to. If you are new here, I am in sales so I drive a lot. Books on tape and Audible keep me sane.) “Loving My Actual Life” by Alexandra Kuykendall.

It circulated around Instagram this fall and I thought it would be a nice little Advent read. Plus, the cover looked cute with the bright strand of lights and text done in doodled penmanship.

I started the book while driving Theo to school one snowy morning, so it was just a quick trip and Alex was only introducing her concept; But, I liked what she was putting down even just in the first few minutes. There’s a common thought of needing to buy this tool or getting these elements in place and then you will love your life. Then you can be happy.  Alex charged herself (and her readers) to think about how can we all love our life right now.

As I marched out of Theo’s school I thought about how I can love my life right now with the cards I had been dealt and with the things I had in that moment.

To me, it actually seemed pretty easy.

I am perpetually optimistic, as well as incredibly fortunate- something I recognize and count my blessing for everyday– so loving my life? No problem!

Sure, not every moment of every day is perfect, but this life I lead? I really can’t complain. It’s pretty good.

This quick self reflection put me in a good mood, so I treated myself with a Starbucks and hit up the grocery store on the way home.

I thought I was so clever by recognizing 1. It will make me happier to get the grocery store out of the way first thing in the morning.  The store isn’t busy and I am not carting around an increasingly heavy eight month old. And, 2. The good fortune I have to be able to work from home which permits a quick twenty minute pit stop on the way home to knock something off my to do list.

Look at me loving my life, I thought with pride as I rounded the store for the few odds and ends on my list.

Then, another thought: I love when I have dinner essentials on hand, especially when it’s cold.

I can use some preserved garden goodies or frozen meat and make all sorts of good meals without much effort so long as I have some basics like pasta, olive oil, baking goods, quinoa, lentils, wine, butter, and soy sauce in the pantry.  So, I loaded up.

I love that I have the cooking skills, the forethought to menu plan for the days I fail to menu plan, a bunch of food to work with at home from our homesteading efforts and now a pantry full of non perishables.

Intention towards a more simple and joyful life though a quick and every day task? I am rocking this loving my actual life thing.  I beamed. Life is so good!

I continued to listen to Alex on the short drive home. Her family sounded adorable and her premise reminded me a lot of “The Happiness Project” by Gretchen Rubin, a book I have read twice and enjoy.

I hopped out of my car in the garage, ready to take on my work day while loving and finding joy in whatever it may bring.

And that’s when things came crashing down.

Literally.

As I pulled my grocery sacks from the trunk, a handle broke on the plastic bag. (I know. I know. There’s my first problem; I didn’t use a reusable bag…) Gravity kicked in and the bag’s contents dropped to the cement garage floor.

&%#@!

A glass bottle of soy sauce shattered onto the ground and broke into a million little pieces.

Seriously a million little shards of glass.

All over my many cardboard boxes of pasta.

Soy sauce perfumed the air, covered the garage floor and all the other items in the bag.

The last thing that I could do was to even try to love the actual “life” in front of me.

I hated this. I had to clean this up.

I had to inspect my pasta boxes and make sure the tiny shards of glass didn’t pierce the boxes. And, even if they didn’t, I had to find a way to store the noodles as soy sauce seeped into their cardboard containers.

All of this would delay the start of my work day. The work day that I was so ready and excited for, but also really needed to get to after my grocery store stop.

I was so ticked off.

All it took was a crash and a few explicatives (just a few, I swear…) and my morning’s joy was gone.

I carried on like a grump the rest of the day. Nothing was fun. Nothing brought me joy. I can’t think of one moment that I loved.

As the sun began to set, I wrapped up a crummy work day and got in the car to get Theo. Alex’s voice picked up right where she left off and I listened.

She carried on into her first month of her experiment. Ironically, it was December for her too and they were in the midst of the holiday hustle- something that was weighing on my mind as well.

Even though Theo is so little and he wouldn’t be remembering this Christmas, I wanted to.

And, I also want to be able to provide a trove of happy memories for my children through actual moments and photos. So, at Christmas time, that means pulling out all the stops: Christmas cards, getting a tree, buying and wrapping lots gifts, making traditional cookies, travel, parties, Christmas crafts and more.

All of these tasks were already nagging me and now my intentional Advent book- picked with the hope of being a salvation from the craziness- was reiterating just how crazy this time of year is. And, after the day I had, it all was just stressing me out.

But, still I listened more.  A few days and couple car rides later, she mentioned a phrase that her friend often uses: Life is big in the little.

Her friend uses this to remind others and herself that life doesn’t have to be made of big grand gestures. In normal moments the best memories are made.

I thought and thought some more, but only could see how this was so right. And, I loved it.

Birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas can be huge and a whole lot of work. Or, you can just be present and celebrate.

There could be pressure to make sure every conversation with your child, friend or loved one leaves an impact; but, they don’t need a well thought out lecture or the most sage wisdom every time you connect. Just connect. Listen. Be.

And even my spilt bottle of soy sauce- as little as it may seem- can be big.

Big in the sense that I gave something as silly as a spilt condiment the power to ruin my day.

(I mean, really. It was soy sauce. Not a bottle of wine!*)

Or…

Big in the sense that, if I take a step back, yes- okay, shattering the bottle of soy sauce and having to pitch it as well as a couple other grocery items was a little annoying. But, it didn’t throw off a set budget. A budget that could already be stretched trying to purchase Christmas gifts.

Or worse, my careless error didn’t mean my family wouldn’t have a meal. When it comes to food, I don’t think about a budget and I can easily go buy more of the items that had to be thrown away.

This truly little thing to me, could have been huge for someone else.

Perspective and a little grace.

Both good things and just the Holiday season reminder I needed.

So, as I approach a New Year, a year that already has a lot of big packed into it, I am keeping this phase in my back pocket.

I will remind myself of it as I continue to balance life, fight off overwhelm, and remind me of what is most important as a wife, mom and career driven woman.

It will serve as an anchor as Adam and I plan to grow the farm and our purpose even more.

It will keep me from getting sucked down the rabbit hole that we call Pinterest as I host my first child’s first birthday party.

And, as I turn thirty this summer I hope- and kind of already know- that I will reflect on the past thirty, look forward to the next great decade, and be able to say with clarity that life really is big in the little.

Happy 2017!  Make the little big.

 

* So, the irony of this all is that just yesterday- well after this post was written- I dropped a bottle of red wine on the cement carrying in groceries.  But, strangely, it didn’t effect my mood at all!  Perspective and grace.

The other night we had some friends over to have dinner and play cards.

It was a really cold night, so I made potato soup with some of our homegrown potatoes and pasture raised bacon. One of the girls texted me a couple days before and asked if she could bring something like rolls to go alongside the soup.

I eagerly said “Sure!”

And, then she added, “I am going to be coming straight from work. Are store bought rolls okay?”

I kind of frowned. But, not because of the store bought rolls. Because she had to ask if that was okay.

It was, of course, okay but I felt a little bummed that she had to ask. Do I really come off so… homemade obsessed? Or worse… fancy?

If so, let me clear the air.

Sure, I love homemade bread. But, not as much as I love my home filled with friends and enjoying a meal with people who make me happy.

The food I love is far from fancy. It’s simple and tasty. Approachable, not foreign. It has dirt on it. (Washed off prior to gracing our bellies, of course.)

The recipes I love are uncomplicated and not full of forty hands on steps. But rather, they are passed down or are often created in my own mind using what I have on hand.

Not to mention, I am by no means perfect when it comes to homemade. I am totally okay with that. And, full disclosure, there are handful of staples in out house at all time that are premade.

One of those staples is frozen pizza. I love having it in the house. It’s great for nights when it’s just me or just Adam at home and we need a meal for one. It’s good for when we are together, tired and just need to get dinner done. And it’s fun, because it can act as the base for a much more dressed up pizza.

With a plain frozen pizza and a few ingredients you can create a really great meal and even bring in some freshness despite the fact it comes from a box.

A light arugula salad is one of my favorite ways to add spice and green (the color and the flavor- there is such a thing) to anything from sandwiches to quiche, but on pizza it’s really great.

We recently acquired a high tunnel and I cannot wait to have fresh, homegrown greens year round, but until it’s all set up and seeds are going I have been taking advantage of Greenerside Gardens, a small organic veggie farm down the road.

Alan, the owner and friend, currently has tons of arugula growing so last week I bought a big tub of it to make this simple pizza knowing with the holidays, travel and baking marathons we would want to just want to take it easy in the kitchen.

Just a little salt and pepper with some lemon juice brightens up the spicy arugula and it all kind of melts into the warm plain cheese pizza.

I top everything with some torn proccuitto and shaved Parmesan for a little chew and saltiness.

Okay. Okay. As frozen pizza goes, it’s a little more elaborate.

… Dare I even say “fancy.”

But, but what’s wrong with that?

It’s still totally simple, uncomplicated and delicious, yet exciting and fun.

Pair it with good wine and a table full of loved ones and it’s everything I love about food.

 

You know… I am trying to remember how or why I got into canning.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law joined me for my first stab at it in the summer of 2013, the first year Adam and I did a big garden together. That day, the three of us made pickles and I was hooked.

I have always been big on not wasting food and canning helped ensure our harvests were used and that I could enjoy them throughout the year.

After the pickles came tomatoes and I was so thankful to have that bit of canning experience under my belt. Not to mention, I was so excited! That year, I spent any free time in August or September in front of a large stock pot processing plump, red tomatoes and shiny glass jars.

The problem? I was a little too excited and a little inexperienced.

I didn’t know much or even think much about our eating habits … and I made about eighty jars of salsa.

Don’t get me wrong. I love salsa. I eat it with chips, put it on eggs, in cottage cheese and we do taco night often. But, I don’t love it THAT much.

Our occasional taco nights were not even close enough to putting a dent in our salsa stash. I knew that the next year I would have to reevaluate, but in the meantime, I had to get creative.

Because we were getting a little tired of just plain old chips and salsa out for a snack during game days throughout the winter, I decided to style it up a bit. When blended with melty cheese in a crockpot, a jar of salsa becomes a fresh and spicy queso.

So easy!

Perfect for a crowd at the holidays or when watching a game.

And, perfect to help get all that salsa off my shelf… until next August!