Oh. Lamb Salad.

lamb salad

Without letting this post turn into a rant against lab-synthesized “natural” progesterone cream, I want to explain why this ought to be the first of many lamb recipes you’ll see around here in the weeks to come.  The other day (which other day?) I was complaining to my dad, who raised me in a let-your-food-be-your-medicine kind of way,  about how the above-mentioned hormone was making me sick. ((I flatly refused my midwife’s suggestions to take this “natural” cream until after my second pregnancy loss (and a blood test showing my blood levels at about 1/5th what they should be at lowest).  It’s not that I gave up on my body’s ability to heal itself and find its own balance, I just didn’t believe that I could go through it a third time without losing some essential part of my health or sanity.))

My dad got really serious and said, “Please don’t take that s—.  Listen to me.  Here’s what you do.  You have a gas grill?”

I told him it was broken.  “So go get another one.  And you get some lamb fillet– it’s expensive, but it’s worth it.  You marinate it in lime, yogurt, salt, and pepper; you know how to do it.  And you grill it and eat it.  75 grams a day, every day.  Or at least 4 times a week.   Did you hear me?  Did you understand?”

It would be easy to laugh at my crazy dad’s suggestion; in fact, my husband, his mother, and I did just that when I related the story to them.

But still, I’m going to do it.  Because I believe in the placebo effect.  And I believe that treating myself to some prime cuts of lamb every day for a month will make a difference, for whatever reason.  And I’m sure of what it won’t do, too.  It won’t give me headaches, extreme thirst, restless sleep, acne, cloudy thoughts, crazy mood swings or any of the other side effects that came with “natural” progesterone use.

It’s not a very good picture, but the salad is Roasted Cauliflower ((tossed in ghee and put onto the top rack of a 400Ëš oven until it browned)), Roasted Walla Walla Spring Onions ((ditto)), Roasted Marinated Lamb ((no, I haven’t gotten another grill, yet)), Garbanzo Beans, Cucumber, Tomato, Bulgarian Feta, and a dried, rubbed Mint (grown at my dad’s house; harvested, dried, and rubbed by my grandmother’s beautiful hands) and Apple Cider Vinaigrette.

Molto bene, as my dad would say.

Healing Salve and Flower Balm


There you see my once-lopped-off thumb (it happened the same week as the Gulf oil spill, which means that in this photo the wound is almost three months healed) with the next batch of my Flower Balm (not the salve that saved the thumb, but close).

St John’s Wort from a neglected yard down the street, Mullein from my favorite alley (a word that doesn’t do my walking path to 30th and Killingsworth justice; it acts and looks more like an old world country lane), Plantain from my front lawn, and Lavender, Red Roses, Rose Geranium, Rosemary, and Thyme Flowers from my garden, all chopped, blended, loosely packed into mason jars, and covered in organic olive oil, grapeseed oil, or both (fill it all the way to the top! Let it spill over!).

Six weeks later, I’ll strain the infused oils, melt some beeswax into them, add shea butter, almond oil, and vitamin e to the Flower Balm (which my niece’s diapered bottom is fond of), and package them into pints and 4 oz jars for sharing and selling.


Edited to add a photo of the chopped off thumb one month into healing, for dramatic effect.  Have I mentioned that it still hurts if I bump it directly and that it has not regained full function?