image from The Messy Chef, via Flickr

I had a great idea: I’ll make my own almond butter. It’s cheaper, fresher, no mystery ingredients- nothing but positives! Upon consulting several how-tos, the general method seemed easy enough:

1) Obtain roasted almonds.
2) Put almonds into food processor.
3) Almond butter!

The missing part of the method is: a GOOD food processor.

I bought some already-roasted almonds. I tossed them into my food processor, added some cinnamon, and started it up.

It smelled great. The consistency of the almonds became like almond meal. From what I’d read, all I had to do was wait until the almonds “released their oil,” and it would be done.

Except, as I’ve found out,* my food processor is a piece of crap. The almond meal in the bottom 1/4″ of the bowl continues to spin around, while the remainder stays firmly caked along the sides.

I tried adding a little honey to break it up.
The bottom spins, the sides stay caked.

Maybe I just need to add a little canola oil.
The bottom spins, the sides stay caked.

I scraped and scraped and scraped the sides with a rubber spatula.
The bottom spins, the sides stay caked.

The almonds have now been on the best carnival ride of their short lives, but all I’ve got is a lumpy, oily, nearly-solid mass of almond meal.

Realizing the experiment was a complete failure, I did the only thing I could do:

Not exactly spreadable

Of course I shaped my lumpy, clay-like almond “butter” into a middle finger. I am a sculptor, after all.

*This is the second failed attempt to make something in this food processor. The first was “just throw frozen bananas in, and you’ll get creamy ‘healthy ice cream!’” Bullshit.

A carrot sprout in my yard

I am becoming a hippie hybrid; i.e., I’m doing my best to be environmentally sensitive, but you’ll have to pry my Internet connection from my cold, dead hands. I bake bread from scratch, I compost (damn straight I’m gonna use “compost” as a verb!), I am attempting to organically grow some of our food. This is a completely new, but not unwelcome, series of behaviors for me.

I lived in Dallas from 1999 to 2007. After meeting and marrying my husband, we became firmly ensconced in the “$30,000 Millionaire” mindset, trying like mad to “have it all,” or at least appear to. We bought a house that we couldn’t really afford, and paid a lawn service to mow the large expanses of grass surrounding it. Deeming the house “too much responsibility,” we sold it, and moved to a penthouse apartment that, ironically, tested the limits of our financial means. I replaced my car lease with a new one every two years. We ate out more often than I cooked. We had no clue what we were really eating, and it didn’t occur to us to care.

Since moving to Houston in 2007, I feel as if my entire value system has changed. Since our arrival here, I’ve experienced two large (albeit voluntary) pay reductions, a foreclosure, and being laid off for the first time in my life (two weeks before having major surgery).

Things have been violently put into perspective.

All remnants of my Dallas Self are now gone.

As a result of the foreclosure, we moved into a small rental house, about one-third the size of our previous house. It has a small front and back yard. Because a lawn service was totally out of the question, we bought a push reel mower to take care of the grass. At first, we left the clippings on the lawn. Now, I rake them into a bucket, and use them as mulch where needed. The memory of us paying someone to bag up our Dallas lawn clippings, and haul them to a landfill, makes me shake my head at the way I used to do things. I also find myself wishing I still had the huge backyard, and its great sun exposure, to plant vegetables.

Shortly after moving into the rental house, I made a compost bin from a plastic storage container. What began as a simple effort to save organic material from going to the landfill has become a fascinating mini-lab. Black Soldier Flies have colonized the bin, and have begun to devour everything I put in it. I recently used the resulting matter to amend the crappy soil in the yard, for vegetable planting. Prior to this year, if someone had told me that attracting a certain type of fly would have me thrilled, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Last week, I planted carrot and pea seed. This week, I planted quinoa and beets. I don’t even like beets!

I relish the exercise involved in working in the yard, making planting beds, rolling out bread. It feels worthy, unlike the “human hamster” feeling of being on a treadmill.

Unlike the person I was in Dallas, I am beginning to feel real.

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