Playing Hooky (sort of)

It is a Monday morning, and I am sipping mango kombucha, eating sweet potato muffins, and typing a blog post. Well, more accurately, I am now chewing the last bite of sweet potato muffin (singular), as hubby and I have eaten an entire basket full of muffins since 10:00 last night. Yeah, we're muffin people. What can I say?


But I've digressed. My original point is that this is far from my normal Monday morning routine. You see, the ol' homestead is generally pretty hectic these days. For those of you who don't know, my husband is a full-time college student. He's also a full-time husband. And a full-time hobby homesteader on our sweet little rental property. And a part-time farm hand on a local organic farm  And a part-time butcher for a major grocery store chain (I use the term lightly... "butcher" brings up visions of entire cows being herded into a tiny, bloody room with a small man and a large knife, while in actuality these days, they just present the man with a sizable portion of already processed meat, which he then cuts into smaller pieces of meat and sells. not quite as thrilling as the other, I know). Anyway, the point is: hubby is a busy man. A handsome, handsome busy man that occasionally wears overalls and melts my little Southern heart :). And since he is in school, I work full-time for a national insurance company (while we count down the days until he graduates next May, and I become a stay-at-home-wife. then babies. lots of babies.). 


In the mean-time, though, I work your typical 8:30-5:30 office job, sitting on my bum, glued to a computer screen. And he goes to a college that often involves taking far-off field trips to heritage pig farms and lumber mills (jealous? I am). This means that mornings are a wee bit crazy around here and do not normally afford me the luxury of sitting around sipping tea and blogging. But today, mercifully, I am sick. Not sick enough to be utterly miserable, but enough to be rather contagious to the other non-sick people in my office. Just sick enough to still be in my pajamas, and not feel bad about it. And since my sweet potato muffins are nourishing my tired, aching, body, I thought I would share them with you. So without further ado, I present:


                 

Sweet Potato Scrumptiousness:

There are three main components to this simple equation. But they're all super flexible, so you can make these little bits of scrumptious however you please. I made the recipe up on the spot, so my feelings won't be hurt if you tweak it at all :).


1. Flour


I used a mixture of oat flour, almond flour, and white whole wheat since I had just a little bit of each lying around. You could easily make this grain-free by using almond flour for the whole recipe. Whatever flours you choose, you'll want to mix about a cup and a half in a bowl with a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of baking powder, and a tiny pinch of salt. Some flax would not go amiss here, but I completely forgot about it in the heat of the "I need something warm and sweet and soft RIGHT NOW" moment. You have those moments, too, right?


2. Spices


I'm obsessed with ginger. You'll learn this quickly. I also used cinnamon and nutmeg in this batch. If you are less lazy than I was last night, grind up some cloves and toss them in as well. Whisk these in with the flour mixture. 


3. The Sweet


We have no white sugar in our home. My plan was to make these with real maple syrup (organic grade B dark, please & thank you), which is absolutely out of this world delicious with sweet potatoes, but we were out. So I made do with our local raw wildflower honey (also out of this world delicious, by the way!) and some good, strong molasses. But the main source of delectable sweetness is, of course, the lovely sweet tater itself. I boiled it on low for about 20 minutes, then mashed it up with a dash of honey and molasses, splashed a bit of raw milk in it (the jug was almost empty, and I wanted to use it up). Mix this into the dry ingredients bowl until you have good wet, muffin consistency. Pour into a muffin tin, or muffin cups, or eat some raw batter (there's no egg, so no worries!). Bake at 350 degrees until you can prick it with a toothpick and the toothpick comes out clean. This took me 17 minutes, which drove  hubby up the wall ("Why not 15 minutes? Or 20 minutes?"). But 17 minutes works for me, and it may vary slightly for you. 

The recipe (feel free to print, pin, link, or distribute, but link back if you could!): 

         

Scrumptious. Enjoy with your favorite cup of tea. I served rooibos tropica (basically red tea with citrusy and coconut undertones). Tell me what you drank and I'll try it next time :).

Bienvenue!

Why, good evening! Thanks for stopping by. Pull up a chair, and pour yourself a cup of hot tea (not warm. hot. that's important). If you've stumbled across this, I suppose you're probably interested in homemaking and homesteading. Or the real foods revolution. Or sustainable agriculture. Or living in the South. Or Reformed theology. Or pictures of puppies. Or babies. Actually, those are just the things I'm interested in, and I'm not entirely sure that I'll even be blogging about the last few. But if you are interested in those things, welcome. And rock on.


To introduce myself, I am Sarai. A Christian, a wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a homemaker, a poet, and a tea-drinker. Oldest of three for most of my life, raised in the suburban south, nourished on both C. S. Lewis and Star Wars. To mercifully pass over the monotonous and rebellious years, and pick up at the age of 18, I packed up and left the sultry antique town I grew up in for the halls of a (quite literally) ivy-covered university in New England, sure I'd never return. But, praise God that the best laid plans of mice and men "gang aft agley," as the poet says. The summer after my freshmen year of college, I came home and ran into a boy. A boy who once saved me from bullies on a playground at the age of 5. A strange farmer boy raised by missionaries that infuriated me with his calm assurance in his beliefs, and his uncanny ability to see through my arrogance and into my little lost soul. And so it was that this boy invited me to a home church, and I ran into Someone else. Technically, I suppose that He ran into me (if it's happened to you, then you know what I'm talking about, and it is glorious).


That's the short version. The even shorter version is this: "A man's heart plans his way; But the LORD directs his steps" (Proverbs 16:9). My heart planned a long life of academia, a brilliant career, mindless political activism, vegetarianism, independence, and the joys of being single and single-minded. My God planned something better. And that, friends, is how I've found myself in a teeny town in eastern North Carolina, learning to feed two people on a student's salary while my husband (and yes, this is the self-same farmer boy from above) gets a degree in sustainable agriculture. We rent a small house in this small town and don't have much time or money, but we try to live as simply, naturally, and humbly as we can with what we're given. 




So, why I am writing? I'm writing because my life is 180 degrees from where it was 3 years ago. I never would have believed that my life's ambition would be to be a housewife. I never would have imagined myself baking all our breads, growing yogurt in mason jars in my oven, helping my sweet hubby butcher fuzzy rabbits, and praying for the day when I'll be homeschooling 6 or 7 kids.  But God is gracious, and His design always prevails. If you are like me, and find yourself in a role you were not exactly born into, then welcome! We can learn together. I'm so blessed to have a husband who knows what a man really should be, a church that teaches who God really is, and friends that show me what a Christian life really looks like. I'm grateful for the women whose blogs are helping my on my journey, and I'm excited to share what I'm learning. It's nice to have you along for the ride. :)