Two Ingredient Pancakes (Banana And Egg)

Supposedly this recipe is all over the internet, but I don’t recall seeing it until yesterday. I was immediately intrigued. Pancakes with only two ingrediants, eh? I guess it is Paleo, though I’m not too familiar with that, so I can’t claim it. It is a simple, no-frills breakfast, allowing for protein and fruit. I’m all in.

There are different ratios, but I went with the simple 1:1.

One banana.

One egg.

I was going to just make 1 batch, but instead I used the 3 black bananas I had and tripled it. I’m glad I did. It was genius  Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I would fail a batch, and need more to work with. In retrospect, pancakes (for me), generally start with one failed ‘cake, and the rest are beautiful, so this worked.

So I took my eggs and bananas and put them in my Ninja. I was going to just use my favorite little chopper, but the more I use my Ninja, the less I use my old faithful chopper. Kind of sad. I feel like I’m cheating on it.

Most people tend to mash theirs by hand – but I thought blending it to a liquid would be better. So I did. People also talked about adding baking powder and such to it – but I wanted to keep it simple. A true Two Ingredient Pancake.This was difficult for me, because I tend to like to experiment. But without starting with the simple base, you never know if your experiments worked. Beyond that, the verdicts for additions to this simple concoction weren’t too outstanding.

I do not like how precariously that is sitting on the edge of my counter. It didn’t fall, but just looking at it makes me think it will.

I heated my skillet to 350. I didn’t even bother with my beloved iron skillets because they aren’t the best behaved for me with pancakes, with their reputation for sticking. I didn’t want a bunch of added oils, either.

A few minutes later the edges looked like they were firming up. I tried to flip, and it gave me the whole accordian pancake look, like, I’m not ready. Soon there was a smell that one can only associate with food burning, and I had to flip it.

Batch #1, failed. Thankfully, Frank likes doughy pancakes.

Batch #2 I decided to turn the skillet down to 250. I read a tip about cooking a bit longer on lower heat, and that working better. I also used some non-stick spray. (I need to find and link to that blog, because she posted some very helpful tips… here it is: secrets to a perfect two-ingredient pancake.)

One worked great. Smelled great. The other, not so much. I think I was a bit jumpy on the gun. Out came my ipod timer.

Batch #3

Set the timer for 5 minutes to force my patience. That was the PERFECT amount of time, only I forgot the dang spray -gah- and had an issue… again. But they were cooked enough, and I saved them regardless. I ate one from #3, putting it on the bottom and topping it with the pretty one from #2. Spread a little peanut butter on them.

Yum.

Verdict: Pretty good. If you don’t like bananas then skip it. If you’re not much for bananas and peanut butter (I’m not, even though I ate it happily) – try syrup, jelly – or nothing. Mine were way sweet enough from the over-ripe bananas. Syurp would have been too much for me. As I ate them, I wondered if sweet potatoes would work in this kind of recipe. Hmm.

They weren’t light and fluffy like a pancake. They were actually a bit gooey, which is how my husband likes them. Kind of crepe-y. I liked that they were warm, and something different, had no egg and no flour. I’d like to make a few and see if they will hold to nuke on mornings where I don’t feel like making anything, and want something warm.

I think I would try these again for something different. They’re less than 200 calories and a relatively quick breakfast fix. A little vanilla in them might be nice. Or not.

Gun Control… So Sexy

The other day Frank and I took Dante (more like Frank and Dante took me) to the shooting range. We wanted to do something together before Dante goes back to college in a few days. Dante wants to get into law enforcement (like most of the menfolk on Frank’s side of the family). Frank’s side of the family likes guns for sport. For hunting, but not too much hunting. For protection, but mostly for sport. Frank has the concealed and carry license. It is good to be comfortable with your gun if you hold that license.

At any rate, we went. My first time. It was enjoyable. I was clearly the rookie. I could see how it could become an enjoyable hobby, albeit expensive.

It brings me to examining what is going on in our country with the scramble to change the gun control laws in our country. Right now, I see people moving out of emotion, following the recent elementary school shooting. I find it strange that so much focus is on the gun, and so little on the mental health.

It’s sexier to focus on guns. Easier.

To focus on the emotional state of the young man, the way the system fails people over and over… is much less appealing. Much less emotionally charged. Most people have no answer regarding the mentally ill, but are able to scrounge one up – or pick a “side” at least – when it comes to guns. I’m not concerned with mentally sound adults having firearms in their homes. I am concerned about some of the violent, mentally ill people in our community – guns or no guns.

I don’t really know the answer to any of this. I just know that right now, at this time, may not be the the exact moment to make a decision. I personally would much rather  see the focus turned on the mentally ill than on the weapon of choice they use to kill themselves or other people. For every one of these mass-killings, there are many more where a person kills a wife, child, mother, father, sibling, self, or others on a smaller scale. It isn’t always with a gun. It’s with hands, household objects. Whatever they can attain. It doesn’t make headlines. Same problem, different stage, setting and weapon.

Happy New Year 2013

As you can see, I don’t keep up on posting here much. It isn’t that I’m not online. I am. On Facebook, or Twitter, or cruising around my Google Reader looking for recipes. Paying bills, checking online wrestling brackets for my kids. Going to Amazon, eBay (Carlito has become quite the ebay fanatic lately).

Being online isn’t the same as it used to be. There’s so many places to interact with people, get tips, read, ogle food pictures… the list goes on.

I miss blogging/journaling though. I do. This place, though, groovy-mom.com doesn’t quite feel like home to me anymore. So I don’t (blog). I have other domains, and have contemplated just doing some free blogging at blogger, too. We shall see. Just when I say that, I keep things the same and continue to attempt staying here. Eh. Who knows. For the two of you that read this, I’ll keep ya updated.

Life is moving forward, like it tends to do. My kids are getting so old, yo. I look at them and wonder how we got here so quick. After this year, all my kids will be in high-school or beyond. That’s… that’s something for me to ponder on. Adjust to. We went bowling last night with the boys and had a very nice time. It was fun to just DO something together on neutral ground. Not a school function, not a church function, not a sports function – just us doing something together. I wish it could be more often. The times where the boys can hang together (and with us) is slipping by. Soon they will have girlfriends, jobs, school — whatever takes them away from each other. That is the pattern of life, but it is also something you leave behind in your youth, that freedom.

Rare is it that adult siblings can get together – just them – and enjoy time. The older you get, there’s always something waiting. Or you’re tired from your obligations of the day. I hope that they can manage time together as they get older. They enjoy each other. Not all siblings do, and they are blessed that way.

So, yeah, we bowled. I don’t ever seem to hit 100 when I bowl, but maybe if I did it more than once a year. I did get 2 (or 3) strikes during the second game. Go me.

I must be getting old because I set my alarm to get up early (that would be 8am rather than crawl out of bed at 10am) so I could have a couple extra hours. For laundry, for sipping coffee in front of the computer, listening to the space ship sounds of my washer. To make cinnamon bread. To not waste so much time.

Intentional is an over-used word. I guess in the years of accessibility nearly everything is over-used. Nothing is unique anymore – and if it is, millions know about it immediately and, without knowing it, make it common by sharing/liking/instagramming/face chatting it into over-used in a matter of seconds.

Yet, intent is the resolution I would have for 2013. Spending my time with intent. Purpose.

Boys Are Noisy

Teenaged  boys can be just as noisy as girls. Maybe worse. Because when their voices start to drop deep, they carry. Far.

They talk with their mouths and their bodies, scrambling, running, kicking, shoving, wrestling, flopping, throwing, hitting.

When your bedroom is right beneath the living room, and they are sleeping (4 of them) right above you, the ground shakes when they laugh. Because they don’t just laugh. They convulse. The lightbulbs in my ceiling fan shake.

Because they watch a movie with this song in it, play it over and over for hours, then one of them (Sal) has an earworm for three days that he can’t shake.

Because you then, in turn, develop the ear worm. It’s not a good one.

Did I mention boys eat a lot?

I Miss Everybody… Even When They Are Here

Too many changes in too short of a time span. Still adjusting. Letting the dust settle.

Last year, after 20-some years of living in Madison, my parents retired and moved 4 hours away. I knew it was coming. I tried to prepare myself, but did a better job of keeping myself in denial. I mean, really. Could my parents really (really) move hours and hours away from me/us? Me? The kids? The city? Me? It didn’t seem possible.

It was. It is. They are happier than ever and remind me of how much they are enjoying themselves.

The hardest part of them being gone would be the face-to-face conversations. Phones don’t capture a conversation for me. Email.. no, but I do like getting emails from my parents. The lost art of writing. But phones (especially cellphones, which we are both using) lag, stick and delete parts of the conversation making it awkward, messy. My parents don’t know how to Facetime, and if they did it would be similar to those cellphone conversations.

I miss them. Not only were my parents close to us (you could hop on the bus three houses down from us, ride it to their part of town and get off of it three houses down from their house – no transfer), but they were close to the kid’s school. Many times I would stop in for coffee or a quick chat while I waited for the boys to be done with wrestling/soccer/whatever. I’ve driven by their house on occasion, those evenings when I would have normally pulled up and walked right in. It makes my heart ache a bit. Truly ache. That’s a real term.

Then I have my college son. That was a whole new adjustment. Still is. There are people that squeal with glee when their kids reach this age – old enough to send off to the dorms. And then there are those who go through (literally) stages of greif, sadness, depression. I… well, I wasn’t squealing. I am happy for him, I am. But I really had to be honest with myself on how I was feeling. My oldest left the house for different reasons. I went through similar feelings then. It got better. This has gotten better.

But it’s still there.

My parents came for a visit this past week. My dad had a meeting close by, and they extended their time here to hang out with family and visit friends. They stayed in a hotel one night and with us the second night. We don’t have a big house. To stay with us, they have to take over a bedroom, and boot a boy out of it. It’s fine, it works, but it might not work for a week’s stay. I wish I had a bigger house. I’ll just put that out there. At any rate, they stayed here, but I didn’t see them too terribly much. Dinner the first night, ships passing in the night the next day. Talks over coffee the morning they departed. It was good to see them. Really good.

I had just learned that my hours might be getting (probably, inevitably) cut drastically in the new year. I tell you every time things look up for us, in comes some slam from the other side that we weren’t expecting. We will never be financially solvent. Will we ever be financially solvent? We will be financially solvent someday. We will. I have to believe that. Sorry, little mid-paragraph pep talk for meself. So, yeah, I was just a little bit shellshocked  about the whole thing, and I was glad -so glad- that my parents were here. That I could tell them some of this stuff face to face and have a real conversation with them. It’s cathartic to be able to speak with someone in the flesh, not through an electronic.

I’m so very tired of speaking with the people I love through electronic devices. (Yes I am thankful for the ability to do so, it just isn’t my preferred way.)

So, we have coffee with my parents on their departure day, then Frank and I go off to run errands, stop at Costco, the library, blablabla. All’s good, right?

Mhmmm.

I get home, begin to unload the groceries, walk into the garage, hear my dog waiting for me on the other side of the garage door, open it – and there it is. Coffee. The smell of the coffee pot, lingering in the air.

That’s all. That was it. All I needed.

I crumpled. Sobbed. Needed a hug from my husband – something I probably don’t allow myself often enough. Keeping hard, keeping moving, that’s what works sometimes.

Not that day.

I missed my mom and dad. I miss a lot of things. It’s OK to miss them as long as I don’t envelope myself in it, seal it up and stay wrapped in it forever.

 

Thankful For Weekends

A lot of people are doing the “Thankful Thirty” this month, and I contemplated doing it, but frankly I don’t blog, tweet or facebook enough to manage. I suppose I could do it online in my paper journal. As I type this out, I realize I probably should simply for discipline’s sake. It is good to be thankful, to pick out the positive, and to massage the optimist within. It’s healthy.

Last weekend Frank had off. We went and watched Dante wrestle (his first ever college matches). It was an exciting, nerve-wracking experience. My heart swelled with pride, but also of longing. I miss my college-aged son. In the same breath that I “miss” each child, moments, segments of life that hang in time– I enjoy the dynamic that new life phases bring. It is exciting to watch my older two young adults take on life, figuring out who they are. A bleeding, swelling heart. Again, I am pushing and pulling each and every day of my life.

Saturday was spent in the car, driving hours away to watch the matches; Sunday we took to the outdoors and explored a local spot that we’ve visited before, but always in winter.

There is a small chapel on the land that was once a farm, now a public park. The owner agreed to donate the land as long as the chapel stayed. We’ve been there many times (almost always after dark), but have never seen the chapel. The hike up brought muscles to warm on a steady incline. On a peaceful day the chapel at the top and the view surrounding would have been the first slice of fresh air on a nice trek through some very manageable paths. But on that day it was laden with Boy Scouts who were on a treasure hunt, and weekenders on the same mission as we were. Inside the chapel, a Scout poked at one of the statue’s heart (a saint) saying, “Ewww. Ugggggggggly. Look at that heart.” He checked off something on his list and they ran screaming to the overlook. Kind of killed the moment.

The chapel is small.

The boys felt our hike should have ended there. They were wrong.

Franny created his own path down the hill while the rest of us took the same route to return to the fork in the path. Sal was overly concerned that we would have search parties to find his twin brother.

We did not.

We found a spider that was definitely not indigenous to the land.

When we came to the bottom of the hill, we took another trail that we figured would take about a half hour and bring us back to the beginning. Half-way through, we came to the warming hut where we have our winter picnics. The boys were spent and wanted to head back using the familiar route. I asked them a few questions to determine that they knew where they were going, and told them to go that way and we would meet them back there. Frank and I wanted to explore new territory.

We didn’t hurry.

After walking to the lake, we were faced with going back to the car through the prairie, or to retrace our steps back through the woods. We chose the woods. I’m not much of a prairie person; I like the hills hidden in the trees.

I posted the picture below on Facebook, too. As we trotted down the hill, I heard a noise that I thought was a branch falling. But it was this man, coming up behind us with his poles. He breathed a chipper greeting when he passed, and continued on his healthy clip right past us, generating more steam as he pushed up the hill. Inspired, I challenged Frank to run up that last hill with me. He shook his head. I started, and the dog (who Frank was leading), took off behind me, forcing him to join in.

We made it.

The kids were waiting, taking in the view, some more patient than others.

I sat with Sal on the bench, and we ate our cheese sticks. I didn’t want it to end. Time is short. Every age and stage in life is different. A Sunday hike with a 13 year old is different than one with a 15 year old, as it is different with one that is over 18, or under 8. I can’t say that any is better or preferred. They are all good. They are all something to cherish.

Hello My Pretty

Happy Halloween. I have no costume. But I have candy to hand out in my bowl, which I carry around the neighborhood with me.
Actually, wait a minute. The twins are 13. My days of walking the kids around the neighborhood might just be over. See, I am accustomed to following the boys around the neighborhood. Since I’m not at home to hand out candies to the kiddos, I’d carry my bowl of candy with me, partaking in a mobile trick-or-treat.

But, the days of that might be over.

The twins are planning on going with friends. Carlito, too.

Hmm. Lightbulb moment for me.

Ah well. So maybe I’ll stay home for a while and hand out candy. Or maybe I’ll pop over to my girlfriend’s house and hand out candy there. I’ve done that nearly every year now. That’s fun, too. Then we head over to a friends and have chili or pizza, the kids watch TV and go through their loot. It’s great fun. A tradition I don’t want to see end anytime soon.

Yesterday I made these MummyDogs:

Sorry, now that I’m married to my iPod Touch, many of my pictures are snapped with the not-so-great camera. Better than nothing. Those were incredibly easy to make. All you need is a tube of the Pillsbury breadsticks and 12 hot dogs. Open the breadsticks and cut each stick into thirds (length-wise). Wrap the hot dog from “head” to “toe” with each piece of dough, leaving a bit of room for the eyes. Place on a parchment lined sheet (or sprayed pan) and bake at 375 for about 15 minutes. Remove from oven, let cool for a few minutes and apply the mustard eyes. Go here for step-by-step directions. I blotted off my hotdogs to help the dough adhere better. If you let the dough rest about 10 minutes before handling, it will be more pliable.

The kids ate them. I don’t know that they were appreciated as much as they would have been 5 years ago, but whatever.

I also made some cookies that did NOT turn out as intended (for pictures of how they are supposed to look, visit the website linked in the recipe).

Oreo Stuffed Chocolate Chip Cookies
Ingredients
2 sticks softened butter
3/4 Cup packed light brown sugar
1 Cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 Tablespoon pure vanilla
3 1/2 Cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
10 oz bag chocolate chips
1 bag Oreo Cookies, I used the double stuff

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a stand or electric mixer cream butter and sugars until well combined. Add in eggs and vanilla until well combined.
In a separate bowl mix the flour, salt and baking soda. Slowly add to wet ingredients along with chocolate chips until just combined. Using a cookie scoop take one scoop of cookie dough and place on top of an Oreo Cookie. Take another scoop of dough and place on bottom of Oreo Cookie. Seal edges together by pressing and cupping in hand until Oreo Cookie is enclosed with dough. Place onto a parchment or silpat lined baking sheet and bake cookies 9-13 minutes or until cookies are baked to your liking. Let cool for 5 minutes before transferring to cooling rack. Serve with a tall glass of milk, enjoy!
Makes about 2 dozen VERY LARGE Cookies – {picky-palate.com}

The above I hand formed. Painstakingly. It was not a pretty process. The dough was like wet sand mixed with glue. They turned out the size of a small saucepan (see above), or pancake.

I decided to make the rest in cupcake form, using dough-cookie-dough and popping them in the oven.

They leaked butter. Have you seen a baked good leak butter? I knew I had seen this recipe all over the place and the cookies, though seemingly under baked, did not leak butter. I salvaged the tops, baking and re-baking my cookies. But I had to admit: I had done something wrong.

Re-examining the recipe, I can see what I did. I used 3 eggs and only used 3 cups of flour. If you do the same, yours will leak butter, too! Well, if you put them in the muffin tins. If you put them on a pan, they will be extremely hard to work with and will spread like gossip in a girl’s bathroom. I still plan on eating one later. I don’t care. The ones that flattened turned out fine. The cupcake ones that are extremely… chewy Frank will like.

Have a great Halloween!

Today I Made Kale Chips

Today:

I made kale chips. I used 1/2 a bag of kale, .5  oz of olive oil, cumin, cayenne, garlic, and salt. I roasted them for about 12 minutes in a 350 oven. I have no pictures. Evidenced only by the remains on the table, some slightly oily fingers and a pleasing heat sensation in my mouth.

I went to the dentist. Every time I think of a million and one ways to cancel my appointment. But I bite the bullet. They cleaned my mouthguard (I grind my teeth), scraped my teeth (they tell me they are excellent), and  got them polished with the whirly circular brush from my nightmares. “Polishing” is THE absolute worst part of the entire process for me. Polishing makes my hands go numb, intertwined in a tense deathgrip across my abdomen. Polishing makes tears come to my eyes, and sometimes spill over. Polishing makes my face dance in ways that bring the hygienist to recall, “Oh my gosh. I’m SO sorry. You hate this part.” Repeated apologies, and movements that are 5x faster than before, getting the job done within seconds.

I need sealants on two of my teeth. Hooray, yay. Oh, that’s an added cost. Naturally. An appointment yet to be scheduled.

I made some cinnamon peanut butter granola to send to Dante.

I did downward facing dog and my silly dog walks over and starts licking my forehead.

I ate blueberries. I sipped tea. I lay still on the ground for 8 minutes, clearing my mind, replenishing my soul.

I reminded myself of what I need to pack for our trip to the cabin — 4-day weekend, hooray.

I promised myself I’d get off the computer at 1pm.

I am fulfilling that promise.

 

Therapeutic Baking: Apple Spice Scones

The temperatures are falling. The leaves are falling. It is impossible for me not to be in the kitchen baking with apples, pumpkins, spices. Simmering soups, pasta sauces.

It’s  therapeutic for me.

I’m pretty well stocked in the freezers, both upstairs and down. Stocking the freezer, then using it up can be therapeutic for me, too.
I see dollar bills when I’m able to tuck something in the freezer for later.

Monday I received another vegetable offering from Gramma Marge (yes, there was more eggplant); I baked part of it (the eggplant – more on that in another post), then chopped and froze the green peppers, adding to my freezer abundance. I still need small staples here and there, like milk or eggs, but I feel like I should be able to “shop the freezer” a bit over the next few days.
I refuse to go shopping this week.

Monday was baked eggplant.
Tuesday, spaghetti leftover from the eggplant, while using up 3 chicken breasts from the freezer. Yesterday I baked.
Wednesday is still in contemplation mode.

Back to baking. I found this recipe for Delightful Apple Spiced Scones with Spiced Glaze. I had all of the ingredients on hand, save the second apple and the buttermilk. But I still had some homemade applesauce dying to get used up and a great desire to bake something that smelled like fall.

I replaced the buttermilk with soured milk (milk with lemon juice – or vinegar added to), and used only one apple (skin on). Somewhere along the line I did something wrong, though. I got to the step where you combine everything and “stir until just moist” – that’s where things looked weird. My kneading was more like playing with something the consistency of oatmeal. What really kept coming to mind was the diaper contents of a baby transitioning to solids. But anyway.

I plopped the mess on my prepared pan, unable to score the scones, but not declaring disaster… yet.

The oven worked its magic on my ploppy mess, filling the house with aromas of fall – just what I wanted the boys to come home from school to.

Looked salvageable. It was very moist. I cut it into 18 pieces, and dredged them through the delicious glaze.
It was very moist, not making for an easy task.
The twins dug in immediately.

Sal thought they were good, Franny said good – but less (or no) apple next time.
I set a piece out for myself, warmed some coffee, and sat down to savor a bite.

The flavor was good, the texture… well, I was hoping for something a bit drier and less cake-like.
Since my photos don’t quite match (in the kneading stage), I’m figuring something went wrong in my process.

Today is my day off. Wednesdays are nice that way.
I’ll be doing loads of laundry, dusting, and cleaning. Visiting the doctor (hatehatehate, but a day off is a good day to do it), making dinner – still have to figure that one out, and keeping myself busy so that I’m not tempted to shop. It isn’t that I’m a shopoholic or anything. We’re working on paying our bills down, and I want as much money as possible going to that. With a full freezer, I figure I can lean on that more and keep out of the grocery store.

We shall see.

Chili Lime Pepper Salad (One Bowl Prep)

I have no pictures of this salad. I’ll just preface with that. Sometimes I take pictures. Others I keep as a photograph in my memory (key harp solo).

My father-in-law lives in a retirement community. On certain days different stores will bring day-old bread or donate vegetables and the residents get to “shop” the goods, or they get a parcel of goods – I’m not really sure. In any case, my father-in-law (and his mother, who both live there) will relieve the guilt of not using their share (?) by passing on to me the remainder of that parcel. Generally it is delicious and appreciated. Other times it is a parcel of guilt that ends up in my garbage due to my lack of ability to either use immediately or freeze it. Sounds simple enough for a person to do, but not always. My brain is flighty.

Last time it was eggplant. Frank’s grandma had made a wonderful caponatina with as much eggplant as she could use, then handed off the rest to me. I like eggplant. I sliced it, breaded it, and fried it. It was delicious and fully consumed. Well, a few of the eggplants were consumed. There were leftovers. They went to garbage after rotting in my kitchen for well past their prime. I was done frying and couldn’t stand the thought of doing any more. Seems to me no matter what you fry it always smells ends up smelling like fried fish, and it always hangs in the air like bad news for about three days.

Well this time, Joe came over with a bag (Frank’s family has a thing with bags – you can’t visit without leaving with an old plastic grocery bag of something – even if it is an article, one piece of paper – it’s in a plastic grocery bag). So we talk in the driveway for a bit, me leaning over his car, him sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running. We talked for a bit, and then he handed me the bag like there were porcelain dolls in it. It was tied at the top. He looked in my eyes. “I think it is eggplants.” My stomach sunk a little at the thought of frying up more eggplants.

Lo and behold, I went inside the house, opened it up and found four jumbo peppers (and tomatoes, but they were immediately ignored for the peppers)! My peppers were green with hints of orangish red, so I knew they were going to turn into beautiful red peppers.

I love red peppers. I love them – have you seen how expensive they are lately? This, my friend, was a bag of delight. I put them in a basket and patiently waited for them to turn. The tomatoes… I made some spaghetti sauce.

Days later and finally my peppers were ready. Almost too ready. Remember my flighty-ness? I wanted to make a pepper salad so they could be the main character, shining in the spotlight. Usually I make an Italian-themed pepper salad, but this time I went for something different:

CHILI LIME PEPPER SALAD

(one-bowl prep)

Ingredients
2 large red peppers
1 cucumber
1/2 red onion
2 T. olive oil
1 T. sugar
1 lime
1 tsp. cumin
1/2 tsp. chili powder
salt and pepper to taste
handful of fresh cilantro (or 1/2 T. dried)

Directions
1.) Cut peppers into bite-sized strips (about the size of a pinky, a teensy smaller); place in bowl. Peel cucumbers (I slice the ends off, cut it in half then peel), de-seed, and cut into similar sized strips; place in bowl. Cut onion into same-sized strips. Toss gently in the bowl.
2.) Over your pepper/onion/cuke mix, drizzle olive oil. Cut lime and half and squeeze the juice of both halves into bowl. Toss gently. Sprinkle sugar, cumin, chili powder over; add salt and pepper to taste. Throw in chopped cilantro (I only had dried). Toss gently again. If you can, refrigerate for an hour prior to serving. If not… dig in.

I ate the leftovers with a sprinkle of feta cheese over. Yum. I like a kick, so in the future I might add some cayenne to the mix.