“That was a wonderful supper. They sat by the camp fire and ate the tender, savory, flavory meat till they could eat no more. When at last Laura set down her plate, she sighed with contentment. She didn’t want anything more in the world.”

This past week I started reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s classic series to Benson (and Kiah by adjacency). How fun to share their joy on reaching Kansas, and what a sweet sentiment for the family’s first night on the little settlement that would become their Little House on the Prairie. Even more than enjoying the relatable prairie vibes – “all around them, to the very edge of the world, there was nothing but grasses waving in the wind” – I appreciated how that chapter brought to life for my five-year-old the idea of finding deep contentment with what we have.

Laura’s peaceful comfort came not from much exterior comfort, certainly not in comparison to our cozy nest together on the cushiony couch in our temperature-controlled house. Rather, even at her young age, she felt the value of a good enough meal in a good enough place. Ma had cooked Pa’s fresh-shot rabbit and prairie-hen, and they ate under that Kansas sky as the shadows deepened and the stars came out to shine. Not exactly food fit for a king (how long since they had any form of fruit or vegetables?) nor a luxurious palace in which to eat it (out in the evening air because there was no house), yet what more could she ask for?

Not only did I find this a very applicable illustration for two siblings who immediately want what the other one has, no matter how happy they were four seconds before, but I personally happily reminisced with a variant of the setting as well. The Ingalls had it way harder than I have ever had, but I too have eaten meager dinners cooked simply and served long after a “proper” time, eaten out under the glistening stars because there was nowhere else to eat it … and I too have found immense contentment there. There were many evenings living in Kenya, especially in my first six-month interval, spent like that. My team was hungry, tired, and dirty from walking in the sand and sun all day, and here we were finally eating a bowl of maize and beans, still out in the open air because our tiny grass huts were stifling hot – and in its own way, it was truly glorious. I was just glad it wasn’t ugali and greasy cabbage again, and that the scorching sun had given way to the clearest, brightest constellations you’ve ever seen (albeit “upside down” since we were in the Southern Hemisphere). Could I really want anything more in the world?

Laura’s prairie Independence, Kansas, was my desert Lodwar, Kenya, but we can build our campfire of contentment anywhere.

In our standard day-to-day, there are so many things that ironically can crowd out contentment. “Other people” will always have a nicer home, a tastier meal plan, a more well-behaved child, a healthier lifestyle; better this, better that. But at the end of the day, contentment could be ours with simple recognition of a good enough meal and a roof over our heads.

Or even, no roof; just the stars to help remind us where contentment can be found.

Good Enough Githeri

Desert Kenyan food was honestly never our favorite … but I always liked to see this hearty meal dished up at our various places. And if there was a little hot sauce available, life was made! Imagine my delight when Kiah immediately declared with her voice and plate choices that she liked githeri too. Often this would be made in a giant pot over a charcoal fire, cooked for who knows how many hours, until the beans and field corn softened into a thick, starchy dish of chewy nourishment.

Prep tips: I always prefer to brine my dry beans overnight, then pressure cook, before using in a recipe – they just have such better texture and flavor than canned.

• a good drizzle of olive oil
• 1 yellow or white onion, diced
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• ½ green pepper, diced
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1 teaspoon curry powder or garam masala
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 cup diced tomatoes, fresh or canned
• optional: 1 bouillon cube
• 3 cups well-cooked kidney beans
• 1 [25-oz] can hominy

Heat oil in a large saucepan. Fry onions until golden; add garlic and green pepper, cooking for a minute or two, then stir in the spices and tomato paste. Add remaining ingredients, and simmer for about half an hour.

Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and two small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas to hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.