Sunday, September 23, 2018

Chicken Breasts with Apple and Onion Sauce

Chicken with Apple and Onion Sauce

  • 1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts
  • 1 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 sweet apples I used Honey Crisp, peeled and cubed
  • 1 medium Vidalia onion sliced
  • 1 cup chicken bone broth
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 2 gloves garlic
  • 1 Rosemary Sprig leaves chopped
  • Salt and Pepper to taste
  1. In a large skillet heat olive oil over medium high heat.
  2. Add chicken breast, brown on each size about 3-5 minutes per side.
  3. Remove chicken and keep warm.
  4. Add another tablespoon of olive oil to your skillet.
  5. Add garlic and onion cooking for 2-3 minutes until onion begins to soften.
  6. Add in diced apples and lemon juice, cook for an additional 1-2 minutes.
  7. Pour bone broth into skillet.
  8. Add chicken back into skillet.
  9. Bring to a boil.
  10. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for about 20 minutes or until chicken in cooked through. 

    Adapted from a recipe found here:

Monday, September 3, 2018

This is How You Heal

Arriving (M.A. Reilly, Over the Atlantic Years Ago)

In the year after his death, broken from its moorings, my body no longer felt like mine.  Adrift, I felt legless. Yes, I lifted an arm to take down the tea cup. I pressed an arm against the doorway. I moved in the world with a mindlessness that kept the separate, broken parts of me together.  The limbs I once knew for 56 years propelled me into the world where I least wanted to go and where I was most desperate to escape to.

Sorrow weighs and now I see it is more anchor than burden.


Three years have passed and sorrow lifts like the first rays of morning sunlight across the sea. I am home in this body again, different than I was before. But aren't we all moving to stay whole?  Isn't that the impetus in life?

Here's a truth to hold close in those early days when you most want to distance yourself from the pain of loss. Sorrow does lift and you lift it with the grace of something you could not know before.

#PoetryBreak:The Sky Over My Mother’s House/El cielo encima de la casa de mi madre

M.A. Reilly, 2016

The  Sky  Over  My  Mother’s  House

by Jaime Manrique

translated by Edith Grossman 

It is a July night
scented with gardenias.
The moon and stars shine
hiding the essence of the night.
As darkness fell
—with its deepening onyx shadows
and the golden brilliance of the stars—
my mother put the garden, her house, the kitchen, in order.
Now, as she sleeps,
I walk in her garden
immersed in the solitude of the moment.
I have forgotten the names
of many trees and flowers
and there used to be more pines
where orange trees flower now.
Tonight I think of all the skies
I have pondered and once loved.
Tonight the shadows around
the house are kind.
The sky is a camera obscura
projecting blurred images.
In my mother’s house
the twinkling stars
pierce me with nostalgia,
and each thread in the net that surrounds this world
is a wound that will not heal.


El cielo encima de la casa de mi madre

Es una noche de julio
perfumada de gardenias.
La luna y las estrellas brillan
sin revelar la esencia de la noche.
A través del anochecer
—con sus gradaciones cada vez más intensas de ónix,
y el resplandor dorado de los astros, de las sombras—
mi madre ha ido ordenando su casa, el jardín, la cocina.
Ahora, mientras ella duerme,
yo camino en su jardín,
inmerso en la soledad de esta hora.
Se me escapan los nombres
de muchos árboles y flores,
y había más pinos antes
donde los naranjos florecen ahora.
Esta noche pienso en todos los cielos
que he contemplado y que alguna vez amé.
Esta noche las sombras
alrededor de la casa son benignas.
El cielo es una cámara oscura
que proyecta imágenes borrosas.
En la casa de mi madre
los destellos de los astros
me perforan con nostalgia,
y cada hilo de la red que circunvala este universo
es una herida que no sana