Thanks to ConAgra Foods for sponsoring this post!
Cheesy Tex-Mex Cornbread Stuffed Peppers
I love football and all the giddiness of game watching, but you lose me at tailgating. I don’t mind standing around with friends and eating, but to be the one who has to lug a whole bunch of equipment somewhere and deal with the weather and a bunch of drunk fans? Not my scene.
Enter homegating: inviting people you actually like to tailgate in your home, where God-willing there are sofas, a built-in oven, and central air. It’s what glamping is to camping. Here are some tips to improve your homegating game:
Fully Loaded Baked Falafel Pita
Welcome to the second post in my series about anti-racism for white people: Identifying and Dealing With White Fragility. Thank you to all of you made a commitment to read at least the first two posts! (Here’s the first one if you missed it.) At the end of this installment, you'll find the dinner recipe that Mike and I are currently crazy about, which happens to be a great way to use the quick-pickled radishes I posted last week: an (incidentally vegan) Fully Loaded Baked Falafel Pita! You’ll also have a chance to share your experiences and resources in the comments. Let’s begin in a rather unlikely place: the skating rink.
When I was 8, I broke my arm at the skating rink. I’ve told you the story before, but I want to focus in on one aspect of it. I was rude to the concession stand cashier when he wouldn’t give me ice to put on my injury, and my friend encouraged me to apologize to him. I want to focus in on the feelings I went through in that moment, which consisted of discomfort, pride, indignation, anger, humiliation, defensiveness, and guilt.
Discomfort because I was in a pickle and I had to either back down or continue fighting; the former felt embarrassing while the latter felt stupid and scary. Pride and indignation because I had just sassed this dude to stand up for myself and now I didn’t want to back down. Anger because I felt like he should’ve given me the ice, which would’ve prevented all of this discomfort in the first place. Humiliation because deep down, I knew I was going to have to admit I had been rude. Defensiveness because part of me was still insisting that I hadn’t been rude: HE had been rude and I had just defended myself! I knew because my feelings were hurt and why would they be hurt if he hadn’t hurt me? Guilt because underneath all of my swirling feelings was the understanding that I had done something wrong.
All of these feelings were valid. Feelings aren’t right or wrong, but they require some analysis to interpret. And it wasn’t the concession guy’s job to sort through them and arrive at a place where I could make an effective decision about what to do — it was mine. What does this have to do with racism?
Check out Radish Revolution! Everyday Ways to Use that Peppery Veggie
by Julie Ruble at Mode
Thanks so much, Mode Media for sponsoring this post!
You guys, I'm seriously amazed and grateful at your response to my last post, which kicked off a series that seeks to start a conversation about race for my fellow white folks (with people of color welcome to join in as they wish). You guys were so open, enthusiastic, and supportive! Look for the second post in the series coming later this week.
In the meantime, I'm here today to drop in a quick little recipe that will come in handy for that post! No, you don't need pickled radishes to talk about racism — but you do need them for the recipe I'll be sharing at the end of that post. Sorry to tease and keep it a secret, but it's worth the wait.
Quick-Pickled Radishes Recipe