Today’s post might get a little heavy, it does delve into some really deeply personal parts of my life that I don’t usually talk about much. To balance it out, later I’ve got a light, fluffy popover recipe to go with it.
Balance is key in life, right?
So today I thought I’d write about…writing. When I was in school I hated writing. I guess I hated it because it took so much time and it took so much of me. I couldn’t talk to everyone sitting around me while I was supposed to be doing it. Yes, I was one of those kids who it didn’t matter where I sat, I talked all through class to everyone. I hated the dent my pencil left in my middle finger. Even by college it still wasn’t something I enjoyed. My husband and I met in college English. I tried really, really hard, and my husband didn’t try at all. He actually climbed under the table and took naps during class. Guess which one of us got the best grades?
It infuriated me.
I didn’t fully discover the power of my own written words until 2006.
I was pregnant with my 4th child and for some reason I had the most overwhelming desire to start a journal. I still don’t know why, because I’d never really kept a diary before. But I started journaling everything about what I was feeling, my dreams, my hopes, and, yes, even what I’d been eating. Our baby Hugo was born with very severe and unanticipated heart defects. I spent the next two months by his bedside with my journal, chronicling the details of his life and our life together in the hospital. Those two months were the first time I’d ever been apart from my husband and my other children. It was the first time I’d ever been by myself as an adult. It was a crazy time of being completely alone and yet constantly surrounded by tons of people.
Our son passed away after his third open heart surgery, he was just shy of two months old. I can’t even begin to tell you what a blessing that journal is now. It is the closest thing I have to a window to that life I lived with him for those 2 months. To read it now gives me this crystal clear view to who I was then and my life with him. And not to just the boy that he was after surgery, hooked up to machines and tubes, with 14 different IV pumps. But the baby he was when he was carefree in my belly and kicking in my ribs.
It is such a gift.
So was he.
Have you ever kept a journal? If you haven’t I’d challenge you to try it for a month and see what you think.
I had different pregnancy cravings with each of my 5 babies, but there was one that I had every single time I was pregnant–blue cheese! Today I’ve got a recipe for blue cheese popovers for you. Popovers are a much overlooked option to serve in place of hot rolls, bread, and biscuits.
I don’t know why they get so little love. They’re easy to make. They don’t take much time. They are close cousins to one of my personal favorites, Yorkshire Pudding. In my life, I’ve found that blue cheese is a great divider. Most people love it or they absolutely hate it. These blue cheese popovers are a gateway drug to blue cheese love. Light, airy, and bursting with flavor. They make a great accompaniment to soups or stews, and the flavors of these popovers positively sing when paired with red meat and red wine. Try these and come over to the dark side.
Blue Cheese Popovers
- 1 Tablespoon Butter
- 2 large eggs
- 3/4 cup milk
- 1/4 cup blue cheese dressing
- 1 cup all purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 pinch cayenne pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon dill weed
- 1 Tablespoon blue cheese crumbles (optional)
Grease a 12 cup muffin pan with butter.
Whisk together the eggs, milk, and blue cheese dressing until well combined. Add in the flour, salt, cayenne pepper, and dill, whisking again until smooth and any lumps are gone.
Pour the batter into the muffin pan, filling each cup about 2/3 full. Sprinkle the tops with blue cheese if desired.
Place the muffin pan into a cold oven. Turn the oven to 450 degrees and bake until puffy and browned, about 25-30 minutes.