Chicken Tortilla Soup Recipe

It's been a year since I posted a recipe creation/adaptation of mine, so here you are! I made this yesterday for my parents and some long-time family friends who are missionaries with Wycliffe. It turned out better than I expected! Maybe if I get REALLY bored planning my lectures this week, I'll add some of my previous attempts at mole sauce, homemade chili truffles, black bean stew, gazpacho, and whatever else I've come up with since I've moved back to Seattle!

Chicken Tortilla Soup

3-4 large chicken breasts
3 T olive oil
4-6 cloves of garlic (minced)
2 chopped onions
cumin and chili pepper to taste (I used several teaspoons of each, it just depends how flavorful you want it)
2 cups of chunky salsa (I used 1 cup of hot and 1 cup of medium salsa)
1/2 green pepper, chopped
1/2 red pepper, chopped
1 can or half of a frozen bag of corn kernels
1 can black beans, rinsed
1/4 c lemon juice
~80 oz of chicken broth (more if you want it to be less thick)

for garnish/side:

tortilla strips (I recommend Mission brand)
Monterrey jack and cheddar
sour cream
salsa
limes

1. In a large stockpot brown chicken breasts in oil (if you're short on time, you can cut the chicken in to smaller pieces), but don't worry about cooking them through. With the heat still high, add garlic and onion and saute until they start to brown as well.

2. Add all the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 30 minutes.

3. Remove chicken breasts (or pieces) and shred them with two forks. Add shredded chicken back into the soup, turn off the heat and stir well.

4. Serve soup with cheese, sour cream, salsa and lime to garnish. Tortilla chips can be added to the soup, or you can put a handful at the bottom of the serving bowl before adding the soup on top. Either way, the corn chips will take on some of the liquid and will taste great in the soup!

Serves 8-10 for a main dish or more if it's a side. I served the soup with more chips/salsa on the table and with warmed hand made tortillas from Trader Joes. It turned out very well! Just the right amount of broth/substance ratio for my taste, and was perfectly spicy (for me who likes a little fire).

Enjoy!

Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht

Christmas in the Trenches

(an email I received from Sojourners today...I thought I would share it with you)

'It has since become our Christmas tradition, kind of our own Charlie Brown
Christmas special, if you will. With the ongoing conflicts raging during each
passing year, it remains tragically relevant.

Silent Night, by Stanley Weintraub, is the story of Christmas Eve,
1914, on the World War I battlefield in Flanders. As the German, British, and
French troops facing each other were settling in for the night, a young German
soldier began to sing "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht." Others joined in. When they
had finished, the British and French responded with other Christmas
carols.

Eventually, the men from both sides left their trenches and met in the
middle. They shook hands, exchanged gifts, and shared pictures of their
families. Informal soccer games began in what had been "no-man's-land." And a
joint service was held to bury the dead of both sides.The generals, of course,
were not pleased with these events. Men who have come to know each other's names and seen each other's families are much less likely to want to kill each other.
War seems to require a nameless, faceless enemy.

So, following that magical night the men on both sides spent a few days
simply firing aimlessly into the sky. Then the war was back in earnest and
continued for three more bloody years. Yet the story of that Christmas Eve
lingered - a night when the angels really did sing of peace on earth.

Folksinger John McCutcheon wrote a song about that night in Belgium, titled
"Christmas in the Trenches," from the viewpoint of a young British solder.
Several poignant verses are:

"The next they sang was 'Stille Nacht,' 'Tis 'Silent Night'," says I.
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky
"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one lone figure coming from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.

We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeeze box and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"

'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone for evermore."

My prayer for the new year is for a nation and world where people can come
out of their trenches and together sing their hopes for peace. We here at
Sojourners will carry on that mission, and we invite you to continue on the
journey with us.'

I hope that you are with family and friends during the holidays. Join me in praying for peace, understanding, love, acceptance and action in the coming year. A better world is possible, and to prove this, we only need look to the baby born in Bethlehem over 2000 years ago. He is the reason I celebrate.

Merry Christmas!

It was a long and dark December, from the rooftops I remember there was snow. White snow.

~Coldplay (Violet Hill)

Arctic Blast 2008. Seattle Snowpocalypse. The worst snow storm in 12 years.

Whatever you call it, it sucks to be in the Pacific Northwest right now. I remember a time when I anxiously awaited every dusting of snow in the hopes of canceled school and sledding down our insanely steep hill. In 1996, the other bad Seattle snowstorm, some idiot neighbor kids waxed a surfboard and asked for trouble. I vividly recall one of them smacking square into the back of a car parked at the bottom of the hill and sliding under it. My parents always said the same thing: "the snow is fun to look at, but such a pain to drive in!" (which is semi-funny because I think my mom has driven in snow about twice in her life)

After living through two winters in Bend with my rear-wheel drive vehicle and never having to put on my chains, I thought nothing could stop me in Seattle! I was wrong.

After a dusting of snow two Saturdays ago, followed by fairly intense ice the next morning, I hoped that was the sum-total of the Seattle "wintery weather." Ah, the pain of wishful thinking. Wednesday, all of the local schools canceled school in anticipation of a storm that didn't come until Thursday morning. Right when I needed to head to work. At 6:30am, we already had an inch at my house and my best efforts to make it up our hill failed. I called into work, went back to bed, woke up several hours later and was shocked to see over five inches on the ground and snow still falling. It went on like this for a couple days, with, of course, some wind and continual sub-30 temperatures. At this point, I haven't driven my car in five days, missed two days of work, missed seeing a camp friend from this summer get married, had to cancel a much anticipated trip to Portland, and am so sad to hear of friends and family not able to make it home for Christmas. We've probably amassed over a foot in a few days, and apparently more is on the way.

So, am I jaded just because I'm an adult? I don't remember being so stir-crazy in 1996. Part of that probably has to do with the fact that my brother isn't here with me. He's always a good source of entertainment and laughs. I should be happy. The snow is beautiful if you have nowhere to go (which I don't, really), Christmas is rapidly approaching, I'm already home (so traveling here isn't an issue) and I went snowshoeing for the first time in my life yesterday which rocked my world. So awesome.

I've had a tough time with Christmas this year. I get so sickened and frustrated with the to-do lists, the obligations and obligatory gift-giving, the busyness and the lack of focus on the true meaning. Granted, I think it is important to completely separate commercial/american christmas from Christmas, but still, I can't help but shake my head when I see TV commercials, overhear stressed-out housewives or realize that I myself have done little to embrace the advent season.

Being stuck at home is a weird thing. Some people (my mother) are excited to have an excuse to stay home (though cabin-fever is setting in and she just started to play the piano for the first time in about 10 years), while others (my father) look for anything they can do to combat idle hands. My dad has shoveled the stairs more times than I can count, taken care of every chore imaginable, has gone on a couple of walks with me, and went into work today not because he had to, but (I wager) just to get away. I'm in-between. As I've written about before, I've been slowly turning into an introvert over the last couple of years and heartily enjoy a day to lay on the couch in my fleece robe with some tea and an amazing book. However, apparently when I'm at home against my will, things get ugly. I can't tell you how many hours I've spent on the internet (I think I should give up Facebook for Lent this year), how many movies I've watched and I'm sad to report that all of these free days have resulted in exactly zero hours of work on my chemistry lectures for next quarter. Professor Klug needs to get her ass in gear. I did bust out the sewing machine to make my parents legitimate stockings and a running hat for myself to replace the one I lost at the finish line of the Seattle Half Marathon last year. Yay productivity!

Perhaps when it is not my choice to be at home, I get less done because there are no deadlines, the days sort of blur together and I quickly fall into lazy complacent-ness. Ick. Get me OUT of here. I've got two days until Christmas. It's time to forget about the weather and focus on Jesus' birth and all of the joy, thankfulness and meaning this event carries. Maybe when I do that, I'll have something worthwhile to blog about.

The upshot of all this snow is that people should complain less about the rain when it comes.

Meanwhile, check out these two sites. Disclaimer: you may wet yourself.
FAIL Blog
Overheard Everywhere

Gigantic, a big, big LOVE

~Pixies ("Gigantic")

It's 2am. I should be asleep, but I'm full of sweets and coffee since I worked late tonight. So, I figured it was time to update all of my faithful followers on the latest travels to the Central American country of Panama (though, I never did really write about Europe, which I still should do at some point).

So...on to Panama. In short, I'm really glad I went, though my first foray into traveling by myself was a bit different than I pictured. It was a trip of many mixed emotions, varied experiences (some laughable, some enjoyable, some barely tolerable), huge amounts of sweatiness and hardcore cankles (what's up with that?)! After five days of sun and high 80s, the mid-40 degree days we're having in Seattle right now was a huge shock to the system! Sadly, I took fewer pictures than I meant to, and most of them are underwhelming at best. But, I found a few that will go along nicely with some stories from the trip!

Transportation in Panama consists of an insane amount of taxis who LOVE to rip off gringos, some personal cars (often utilizing the hazard lights for no apparent or logical reason), and these lovely works of art. Diablos Rojos (red devils). Look familiar? When school buses in the US are decomissioned, they are apparently sent to Panama. Paint them insanely, write the destination on the front window, charge $0.25, and that's your public transportation. Needless to say, I was strongly advised not to ride one, though I wish I had.

Those of you who know me are aware that I have a fairly large distaste for being a "tourist." I much prefer going off of the beaten path and meeting locals. But, since my days and transportation were limited, I decided to hit a few of the high points in Panama City. This, my favorite picture from the whole trip, is part of the ruins of a church in Casco Viejo, the old French Quarter near the canal (the French actually began the construction of the canal before the US took it over). My trip to Casco Viejo was fraught with hilarity. I woke up that morning with a terrible cold, but was determined to do some solo adventuring, so I set out on foot from my hostel through some fairly seedy parts of town to arrive at my even seedier destination. I think everyone should experience (at least once) being the only white person in a crowd of thousands and being one of the tallest (this wins you double-stare points), while simultaneously being cat-called in English and Spanish, trying to figure out where exactly you're going and protecting your belongings. It was FUN. The best part of the day, bar none, was on my walk to Casco Viejo when two police officers "pulled me over" in their van and told me that I should not be walking on the street I was on because (and I quote): "the bad guys will get you on this side of the street." Hmm. Luckily, Casco Viejo (where several parts of Quantum Solace, the new Bond movie, were filmed) had some very pretty views of the Pacific Ocean. Below, you can see the end of the Causeway (three islands connected to the mainland with earth from the canal excavation) and the plethora of ships (dotting the horizon) waiting to enter the canal.

The Miraflores Locks on the Panama Canal was an interesting experience. I think the excitement came more from having to walk around the museum with all of my luggage than seeing two gargantuan cruise ships leaving the canal, but it was still pretty cool. The canal trip takes roughly 24 hours to travel 50 miles (and wait a whole lot), and involves three locks. Miraflores is the first locks for a ship entering the canal on the Pacific Ocean side. They just passed an initiative to widen the canal, so I got to see some rock-blasting in progress. Perhaps the most shocking figure is the toll. Up to $240,000 for a large freight ship. Holy crap! Doesn't that water look yummy?

My hostel deserves its own blog post. Hostel Mamallena, though not in the most convenient or safe area of the city, had a surprisingly helpful staff, nice accomodations and story-worthy folks. My first night, I got a photoshop lesson from a Scottish photographer while inhaling intense amounts of his second hand smoke (the whole pack, I might add). The second day, while minding my business and eating my morning pancakes, I met a Colombian guy who took to making very specific observations about me ("you look young," "you're a very happy person," "you're cute," "you seem innocent," and it gets better...). So, for the rest of my time at Mamallena, I took to reading and relaxing on the front porch to escape the chain-smoking club, annoying drunk Americans from the south who thought they were God's gift to foreign and economic policy, CRAZY old Canadien men, the coke-twins and the Colombian. But, he kept finding me and instead of taking the hint when I went back to reading, started laying on the "compliments" even more, which culminated in "why are you so beautiful?" At this, I had to get up and leave before I barfed. The next day, exclaiming "suerte!" (what luck!), he gave me a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye while clutching a well-wrapped package (I'm guessing it was weed) to mail to himself and offering me a joint. Luckily, Al (a radical Irish cyclist who loves Beirut) dissolved the weirdness by asking for a kiss too. Thanks, Al.
But, of course, the best part of the trip was seeing my good friend Rachel marry her now-husband Horst Martens on the beach at Coronado following an intense drive through flooded zones and washed out bridges. I met so many special folks at this wedding (Colombian, Panamenos and American) whom I will always remember. Rachel had Dengue Fever the two weeks prior to the wedding, but was a trooper and either really was almost healed on the wedding day or was amazing at faking it. It's amazing to think of how the average bride would react to contracting a disease that could threaten not only her "big day", but also her life, but this woman is far from average. I always enjoy a wedding that comes together perfectly, but is done simply, smart and sans stress.

One of my favorite memories from the trip was when Rachel was asked at her bachelorette party (somewhat in jest) what her favorite physical trait of Horst's was. Her reply: "I dunno...his face I guess?" It was very clear to me from her answer to this and other questions that Rachel doesn't give two hoots about that crap. She loves Horst for Horst. It's not infatuation with fleeting good looks, success or riches. They are companions, best friends and lovers. It is so obvious how deeply their love runs by observing their interactions. That's a big, big love!

When we went hiking in the jungle my last day in Panama, between breathing heavily and sweating through my shirt, I asked Rachel what her favorite part of marriage so far was. "I love not having to leave and night and waking up next to him in the morning," she replied. Waiter, I'll have some of what she's having.
Felicidades, mis amigos. Dios les bendiga.