The Truth about Ratatouille

Hello Freunde,

I’ve been absent from the blog now for quite some time.

But, can I get an amen that May seems like last weekend?

This hiatus, I admit—it was on purpose.

Not to be overly dramatic, but I’ve had a hard time returning to blog about my trite ramblings and my quasi-eccentric renderings of recipes.

Everyone should be mindful, though, that birds can be dangerous creatures.

To put it quite bluntly, we found out early this summer that my mum’s ovarian cancer has returned.

In case you don’t know, this is my mum, Jane. She loves hedgehogs.

My mum was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer in early 2010 when I was studying abroad in Vienna, Austria.

As you can imagine, I was scared out of my mind because:
1) Cancer is scary AF.
2) Cancer had never struck so close to home before.
3) I was 4,467 miles away from my mum.
4) I was an emotional 21-year-old, who had never left her hometown before—not even for college.

Quite simply, I didn’t take it very well. I cried whenever I was alone in my dorm room and Skype-called my mum every chance I could.

I was hysterically fearful that I wouldn’t be able to see her before she went in for surgery and that the surgery would go wrong.

During that time, my study abroad friends were absolutely stellar and displayed how great human beings can truly be. Everyone was incredibly supportive and was always there to listen or to distract me from morbid thoughts. To this day, I consider a number of these people lifelong friends.

For the rest of my study abroad crew: I may not be in as close of contact with you as I’d like to be, but I will forever be grateful for your kindness and will always think the absolute highest of you. You’re forever welcome in my home.

We were very fortunate that my mum was taken care of by an excellent oncologist, and her body responded positively to chemo therapy. I was also incredibly lucky that my parents were able to fly me home during my spring break so that I could see my mum before her surgery.

I’ll try and cut to the chase, as we all know my proclivity to rambling—seriously, as a second grader, it took me 3 months of weekly journal entries to get up to departing the aircraft on my assignment, “What I Did This Summer”—my mum kicked cancer’s ass. She came out of the other side of surgery with flying colors and got through the rest of her chemo therapy like a champ.

Mum and my grandma’s dog Kate laughing at what a chump Cancer is.

In retrospect, my mum’s cancer was a huge impetus in my growing up—especially when I returned home from study abroad. Something internally shifts when you need to help care for your parent—in my case, it was driving and being with my mum during her treatment sessions, helping out more in terms of cooking and cleaning, and simple tasks like opening doors for her.

I had been a child for 21 years, and it was now my turn to step up and be a partner during my mum’s post-op recovery and ongoing treatment.

My mum, me, and me Fajaahhh prior to boarding our flight to England this past Christmas.

Everything since then—AmeriCorps, living on my own, debt, paying my own bills, finding employment, moving to DC—well, it just didn’t quite come up to snuff in comparison to my mum beating cancer.

In November 2014, my mum started having shoulder pain which slowly encompassed her entire left arm. Having been told by her doctor that it was common nerve pain, my mum dealt with chronic pain for 6 months. She then, on her own, sought help  from a physical therapist, who immediately noticed something wasn’t quite right. He referred her to a thoracic surgeon who ordered an MRI of my mum’s shoulder.

Wine tasting on Long Island because we’re fancy.

They found a mass.

In June, the lab results came back and confirmed it was malignant.

Mum looking lovely at Kat’s wedding.

Again, I didn’t handle it well.

Common thoughts I had were:

• Five years.
• Five years of relief and sighing, “It’s gone. Mum did it. Cancer is no more.”
• Did we commit hubris?
• Does our family have bad luck?
• Why my mum?
• Why our family?
• Haven’t we been through enough?
• Fuck cancer.

You can go away now, Cancer.

As you saw, I stopped blogging. I spent a lot of time on my own.

Diet? What diet? Red wine = my new best friend.

I cancelled on multiple group friend events. I internalized quite a lot and didn’t want to speak to anyone really, not even Boyfriend.

Funny story (in a dark humor way, I suppose), Boyfriend came home after an intramural soccer game and found me wrapped up in my plush leopard-print Snuggie, half bottle of red wine gone, head phones on, and tears streaming down my face. When he asked what was wrong and urged me to talk to him, I hissed at him, “Leave me be, I’m making a playlist for my mum.”

Boyfriend’s reaction.

Side note, I haven’t sent the playlist to my mum yet, but Emo Lizzie did a decent job.

Now that we’re past the initial shock and emotions, my mum is doing okay—as is the rest of the immediate Dorman-Bissett-Schoener clan. We have an action plan and now know what we’re up against.

The full crew.

In terms of treatment, my mum has gone through 10 sessions of radiation and just completed her first 3 rounds of chemo therapy. She is no longer in chronic pain, which is fantastic. She is able to move her left arm and shoulder again and is working on regaining full mobility in her left hand.

We don’t have a full progress report yet, but my mum has been getting regular cancer antigen 125 (CA 125) tests done.

CA 125 is a protein that is a so-called tumor marker or biomarker, which is a substance that is found in greater concentration in tumor cells than in other cells of the body. CA 125 is present in greater concentration in ovarian cancer cells than in other cells, and levels from 0-37 are considered healthy.

LaLa and Mum.

Currently, my mum’s level is down to 13.

Yeah, Cancer. Up yours.

How is she doing? Well, I was very fortunate to be able to take time off of work to be with my mum during her third chemo session last week. It was good for me to see that she was doing alright and to see her treatment facility. She’s in very high spirits because she and my dad will be celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary by taking a trip to Eastern Europe. They leave on Labor Day.

Mum and Fajaaah being adorable.

Now, time for the cooking.

You know what the Internet wasn’t totally helpful on? Recommended recipes to make when someone is going through chemo. I know, I know—there are prescribed grocery lists and some recipes available. You know what, though? The recipes didn’t look especially appetizing.

So if I have anything to say about it, talk to your loved one who is going through chemo and ask what they’re in the mood for. There. Easy peasy.

Here is what Mum picked:

Ratatouille

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 probably used 5 cloves of garlic, minced pressed
• 2 teaspoons dried parsley
• 1 teaspoon thyme
• 1 eggplant, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese **I probably used 2-3 cups. Whoops.
• 2 1 zucchini
• 1 yellow squash
• 1 large onion, sliced into rings **Hmm, didn’t read the rings part. C’est la vie!
• 2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
• 1 green bell pepper
• 2 large tomatoes, chopped

Mountain o’ vegetables.

Directions

• Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
• Coat bottom and sides of a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with 1 tablespoon olive oil. **I totally forgot to do this and blessedly the ratatouille was not glued to the bottom of the pot. You should do this.
• Heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat.
• Cook and stir garlic until lightly browned. Mix in parsley, and eggplant, and onion. Cook and stir until eggplant is soft, about 10 minutes. Season with thyme and salt and pepper to taste.
• Spread eggplant and onion mixture evenly across bottom of prepared casserole dish.
• Sprinkle with a few tablespoons of Parmesan cheese.
• Spread zucchini in an even layer over top. Lightly salt and sprinkle with a little more cheese.

• Continue layering in this fashion, with onion, yellow squash, mushrooms, bell pepper, and tomatoes, covering each layer with a sprinkling of salt and cheese.
• Dump all the remaining Parmesan cheese on top of all the layers for a delightful top melty coat.
• Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes.

I also made a French-ish marinade for chicken breasts to accompany the ratatouille.

Provençal Herb Marinade

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 3 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 2 teaspoons Dijon or stone-ground mustard
• 1 teaspoon minced fresh oregano or 1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves or 1 pinch dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon dried Herbes de Provence 
• 3 chicken breasts

Directions

• To marinate, place the chicken, seasoned with salt and pepper, in a zip-top bag. Whisk all the ingredients together in a bowl, then pour over the chicken. Seal the bag tightly, pressing the bag gently to remove as much excess air as possible. **So…I mixed the marinade in the bag and then just plopped the chicken breasts inside and shook everything around.

• Marinate for at least 24 hours **I only allowed for like 3 hours. Whoops.
• Set oven to 375–400 degree F **The chicken breasts were ‘roided out monsters, so I had to increase the heat.
• Bake for about 20 to 30 minutes — until the thickest part of the chicken registers 165 degrees F on a meat thermometer.

Sie Lizzie D Thoughts:

1. I should have let the chicken marinate longer.
2. I would be interested in pan searing and/or grilling the chicken.
3. ERMERGERD RATATOUILLE.
4. I would consider sauteing the zucchini and yellow squash before letting it bake. It was a little too crunchy for my liking.
5. ERMERGERD EGGPLANT AND MUSHROOMS NOMZZZZZZ.

More importantly, my mum finished her chicken breast and portion of ratatouille that evening. And my parents literally have 3 pounds of ratatouille in the freezer. All in a day’s work, my friends.

Whew. Well, I feel like I lifted a load off of my chest. It’s hard when you want to be private but at the same time want to be honest and candid. Especially when you attempt to blog honestly and candidly.

For this post, I intentionally added many photos of my mum and my family. Why? I want to remind everyone that though my mum and my family are going through a difficult time—we’re still family, still normal people.

We’re doing okay. Sure, we have our bad days and have a cry. But more often, we try and find a reason to laugh. Because hey, why cry when you can laugh?

My mum getting in touch with her Viking roots.

You may ask: “What do you need?”

1. Good vibes, thoughts, and prayers are all very welcome.
2. We’re good on food/moneys/carpooling, but thank you for asking.
3. My mum loves notes. If you would like to send her a note, private message her on Facebook or send her an email. Or, you can private message me and I can forward it along. If you want to send a card, please private message me.
4. If you’d like to join me in telling cancer to very rudely GTFO, please consider making a donation to the American Cancer Society which funds very smart scientists who will one day find a way to eradicate this disease.

I want to conclude that I’ve always thought of my mum as Super Woman. She had a full-time job, raised 3 daughters, and obtained her masters degree, summa cum laude. Throughout her diagnosis, she has been brave and strong. She is my mum, a designation higher than a hero.

Mum, I love you very much.

Last but not least, Mum sees butterflies as her symbol because of the quotation that my dad gave to her during her first diagnosis.

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” -Maya Angelou

So, if you would care to join me, here’s a butterfly for Susan Jane Jordan Dorman, the most beautiful woman I know.

Photo credit: Veronica Varos Photography

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D