Chivo guisado and arroz con coco for The Boy’s Birthday

I spent last Sunday afternoon cooking with The Boy. We made chivo guisado (goat stew), arroz con coco and guandules (coconut rice with pigeon peas), and potato salad. He ate until he nearly burst. I was pleased. Few things make me happier than watching those I love enjoy my food.
1-cooking-goat

2-stewed-goat

3-coconut-rice

4-potato-salad

For dessert, we had pineapple and carrot spiced cake. Then, the next morning, I warmed up a piece of cake, crumbled it, and had it with passion fruit tea. My mind can still taste all the spicy fruity yum.
5-cake-and-tea

It was a great Sunday—love, food, laughter…—the best. What have you been up to, my Wicked Luvs?

P.S. When it comes to cooking, I use the eyeball method. So here are links for similar Dominican recipes, from Simple, by Clara: Chivo Guisado Picante (Spicy Goat Meat Stew), Moro de Guandules con Coco (Rice, Pigeon Peas and Coconut), and Ensalada Rusa (“Russian” Potato Salad).

Sentient Woe in My Heart

“Life is a masquerade”, Sanaa said. “You never know who might be hiding behind a mask or façade.” I think she is quite correct. So, of course, I had to write a wee poem for her prompt… and in response to Kerry’s Micro Poetry at The Cross- Roads, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

“Sentient Woe in My Heart”

Lying is death to the spirit,
and he is all lies.

He is sentient woe
in my heart,
and I want him gone.

Loved by many,
he is… sad, sad truth;
and I wonder, how long
until façades collapse
and kindness is betrayed?

.
The blacked-out Poem Bits that inspired this piece:
1-lying
2-woe
3-betrayed

Chances Waiting to Be Taken

I find myself dreading the news… and many Facebook posts… But I refuse to close my eyes… even when life looks horrible. We can’t fight (or hope to make sense of) what we can’t analyze and digest. We can’t grab chances gently by the throat, if our heads are in the sand. So I will watch… and art my rage… in order not to bleed it like a stain.

“Chances Waiting to Be Taken”

Eyes full of ashes,
Tomorrow stumbles on ice
and empires weep Blues.

Horror is coming
to die. I hear the wailing
and echo the chant
of chances waiting
to be
taken.

I will turn my heart
towards the brightest and dark
bits of the dwarfed dawn.

.
– Linked to Open Link Night 184, over at dVerse.

ashes