This pregnancy has been one marked more frequently by fatigue, cramping, and spotting. Yesterday night I felt exhausted and crampy and sure enough by the end of the day I was spotting again. Not a lot, but it stresses me out for obvious reasons. Every time it happens I worry--even just a tiny bit--that this is the moment when the beautiful pregnancy is signaling that it's almost over. That said, it helps that this is my fourth or fifth time spotting with this pregnancy, and I can still feel the baby kicking.
I decided to make it an easy day, as low-key as possible. Cora and I ended up sipping chamomile tea after breakfast, painting at her easel in the kitchen, playing with her dollhouse (which today mainly meant walking the paper dollhouse dog on a long leash around the house) and catching a break of sun and springlike weather in the backyard. We ate a leisurely lunch of burritos stuffed with chicken, kale, corn, olives, and cheese (she claimed she didn't like the kale but she ate it anyway) and then sat back on the couch under a blanket and read 10 stories.
She's battling sleep right now. Even though I'm tired, I'm downstairs doing this instead of trying to nap in the next-door room. Vegetable broth is cooking on the stove and lentils are soaking for tonight's soup. We'll bake a new GF sandwich bread this afternoon when she's done napping.
My sister sent me home the other day with several books, and I'm well into The People of the Book, by Geraldine Brooks, which is proving to be the perfect combination of mystery, adventure, and culture for cozy January nights.
These mild, Northwest mid-winter sunbreaks confuse our plants. I noticed today that, along with a million weeds, we have bluebells pushing through the ground. Bluebells in January? The earth is soft and everything smells rich. Cora and I talked about our apple and pear trees and the site for our garden (I'm so excited to start growing food!), and wandered around studying birds and rocks and moss.
I think all my pregnancy hormones have catapulted me into a relative state of domestic bliss. This is nothing like the wanderlust I felt last year. I've never felt so much contentment from cooking and quiet afternoons of writing.
Now if only the little lady would fall asleep and I could write a few paragraphs of my story.
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tortilla Heaven
Plato was right; necessity is the mother of invention. Not that I invented these tortillas, but I've never really considered making them until this week when we ran out of our gluten-free rice tortillas. True, I've never been a huge fan of the store-bought rice ones, anyway. They're relatively flat as paper, difficult to fold even when warm, and they get hard as soon as they cool--a frustrating scenario for a slow-eating toddler. Still, I was feeling rather sad about our lack of already-prepared food inventory--one more thing we didn't have to make lunch prep less of a scenario. I couldn't help feeling a bit ho de ho de hum about this whole budgeting and food thing.
However.
These tortillas are sooooooooo good. So good that I am having difficulty writing this rather than running upstairs to eat another one.
Okay. So just imagine you haven't been able to eat flour tortillas in a long time. Like, pretty much since you were 12 except for a gluten phase in college when all the same symptoms showed up but you tried to ignore them and eat pizza and drink beer instead. And then imagine it had been 12 years since you ate a flour tortilla, and instead you were relegated to the joy of discovering flat-as-paper brown rice tortillas in the refrigerated section of the health food store, and you diligently chewed through them with the usual ability to balance the benefits and flaws.
And then imagine you spend 5 minutes mixing up some flour and water and flipping a few tortillas on the stove while your kid zooms around the kitchen with her frog, asking you to please help her undress it even though the frog is meant to be dressed, the vest doesn't come off, that's the way it's made.
And then zip. You are suddenly transported to this heavenly place where a soft, puffy, warm tortilla is on your plate, rolled with melted cheddar cheese and chicken and covered with salsa. You would be speechless, too.
Cora loved them. It was seriously a joy to see her eating a quesadilla without having to tug and tear at the tortilla.
Even if you're not gluten-free, I think you'll like these. And if you can eat regular ol' flour tortillas, I say get theeself to another page on the interwebs and find thee a good recipe and start cooking. It's heaven. Tortilla heaven. Save yourself from the monotony of dry, packaged goods and make them yourself, even just once.
Mary Frances Pickett's Gluten-Free Flour Tortilla Recipe
This recipe was inspired by Bette Hagman and adapted by Mary Frances Pickett. I followed it almost exactly except:
*I used her suggestion to substitute garbanzo bean flour for the soy flour.
*I sprinkled the counter with a mix of rice flour and garbanzo bean flour when flattening/rolling the dough.
*I didn't roll them as flat as possible. I left them a little bit thicker than the average tortilla, going for the more "handmade" tortilla thickness, if you've ever stumbled upon one of those delectable disks at a restaurant or grocery store.
*Lastly, I used a copper skillet and didn't use any shortening. An ungreased pan on medium-high heat worked great.
However.
These tortillas are sooooooooo good. So good that I am having difficulty writing this rather than running upstairs to eat another one.
Okay. So just imagine you haven't been able to eat flour tortillas in a long time. Like, pretty much since you were 12 except for a gluten phase in college when all the same symptoms showed up but you tried to ignore them and eat pizza and drink beer instead. And then imagine it had been 12 years since you ate a flour tortilla, and instead you were relegated to the joy of discovering flat-as-paper brown rice tortillas in the refrigerated section of the health food store, and you diligently chewed through them with the usual ability to balance the benefits and flaws.
And then imagine you spend 5 minutes mixing up some flour and water and flipping a few tortillas on the stove while your kid zooms around the kitchen with her frog, asking you to please help her undress it even though the frog is meant to be dressed, the vest doesn't come off, that's the way it's made.
And then zip. You are suddenly transported to this heavenly place where a soft, puffy, warm tortilla is on your plate, rolled with melted cheddar cheese and chicken and covered with salsa. You would be speechless, too.
Cora loved them. It was seriously a joy to see her eating a quesadilla without having to tug and tear at the tortilla.
Even if you're not gluten-free, I think you'll like these. And if you can eat regular ol' flour tortillas, I say get theeself to another page on the interwebs and find thee a good recipe and start cooking. It's heaven. Tortilla heaven. Save yourself from the monotony of dry, packaged goods and make them yourself, even just once.
Mary Frances Pickett's Gluten-Free Flour Tortilla Recipe
This recipe was inspired by Bette Hagman and adapted by Mary Frances Pickett. I followed it almost exactly except:
*I used her suggestion to substitute garbanzo bean flour for the soy flour.
*I sprinkled the counter with a mix of rice flour and garbanzo bean flour when flattening/rolling the dough.
*I didn't roll them as flat as possible. I left them a little bit thicker than the average tortilla, going for the more "handmade" tortilla thickness, if you've ever stumbled upon one of those delectable disks at a restaurant or grocery store.
*Lastly, I used a copper skillet and didn't use any shortening. An ungreased pan on medium-high heat worked great.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Food and sleep
We've had three glorious days of sunshine and enjoyed our first walk around the lake in over a week. While the sun certainly makes the world feel like a more welcoming place than the snow and blustery wind did, the things that have dominated our lives these days seem centered on two things: food and sleep. With our family recovering from yet another encounter with the stupid flu season, we've found ourselves in the throes of an incredibly fine balance that is easily disturbed by lack of sleep, and is made more comfortable by good food.
On the sleep front, both B and Cora developed bad coughs that kept all of us up for about a week. B's finally getting better and, along with a few night's on the couch (me), our family finally doesn't quite feel like a bunch of walking zombies. The main thing that happened with Cora is that she became very dependent on nursing, which makes perfect sense for a sick child who can't find much interest in food. But one of the problems I encountered was that she started getting back into the habit of nursing herself to sleep at nap time. That might not sound like a big deal lest you consider the past four months of efforts to get her to sleep with music, a bit of rocking, or in her bed while I pat her back. So, this week I decided to quit nursing her at nap time and encountered the total chaos of a crying, adamant baby all over again, which was so unnaceptably awful that I continued nursing her to sleep (and back to sleep when she wakes after 40 minutes) like she was a drunken sailor unfit for the world without her daily dose. I know it probably sounds ridiculously funny to anyone with more pressing things to worry about, but I have to admit that I had all kinds of anxiety about trying to go back to our old ways, so much so that I chatted about it with B and several friends, practically wringing my hands over the issue. It's just that Cora was so upset about it this week that she was a blubbery, crying, coughing, dramatically sad little mess wringing herself about in my arms like the world was coming to an end. I don't like either of us to feel that way, and yet I also don't like sitting in the rocking chair for upwards of an hour while she nurses and nurses and demands to nurse some more, then doesn't sleep very well because she wants to wake up and nurse.
Enter this afternoon, stage left. I fed her a big lunch and gave her a cookie. When the last crumb had been dusted off of her chin, I held out her sippy cup of rice milk.
"We need to have a little discussion," I said, sitting forward earnestly. She chugged back a few gulps of her rice milk and looked at me with twinkling eyes.
"Cora," I said, "We aren't going to have any more milk today when you go to sleep. No milk. We're going to read books and listen to music before you go to sleep, but we're not going to nurse. It doesn't help you sleep well, and I want you to have a good sleep. No milk. Do you understand?"
"No?" She looked at me. She made the milk sign and held her sippy cup up for my inspection.
"You can have the rice milk, no problem, but no milk. No mom's milk," I said, pointing to my chest for extra clarification.
"No milk," she said, taking another swig from her sippy cup.
"Do you understand?" I asked again. "I just wanted us to talk about this so you won't be upset later. We can't have any milk when it's nap time. We are going to go into your room and read stories, and change your diapers and put on comfy pants, and then listen to music. I will rock you and sing to you before you go to sleep, if you want, but no milk," I started imagining years ahead of family meetings and discussions, outlining rules and issues while we passed around a discussion totem like a Koosh ball or a shaman's stick, all of us very intentioned and focused while we discussed things like what's for dinner and where the kids can walk when they go outside alone, or what our stance is on watching TV. It felt totally comical and yet very important, communicating like this with my daughter.
"No milk," she repeated. And she put her head on her shoulder (the sign for sleep) and smiled, then handed me the sippy cup. We went into her room and went through all the steps I had described to her. I asked her if she wanted me to sing her a song and she said yes, and I held my breath when I picked her up, waiting for her to turn into a writhing serpent in my arms, all mouth, demanding MILK. But she looked at our rocking chair and then stared straight ahead, her little brain working away. When I was singing to her, she looked at me a couple of times and said "No milk?" and when I confirmed this, she put her head on my shoulder.
Lo and behold, the little lass slipped to sleep in her crib while I rubbed her back for a bit. She awoke like clockwork 40 minutes later and went back to sleep after a few minutes of gentle rocking. I love that she understands so much, I love that she listens and is such a careful little person. I love how loving she is when she kisses my cheek or my shoulder and looks at the wolf on her wall and howls, then snuggles into my chest and tries to go to sleep. I love my daughter, I just do. I am feeling very proud of her right now. And she's been asleep now for TWO HOURS. Ok, dude, wow. I suppose it makes perfect sense that having a conversation with your toddler can be quite a successful act, but I'm just not used to it. I feel like we live in such a culture of trickery when it comes to our kids, of parental power that supercedes our children's desires, and it is refreshing to be at a point when Cora's comprehension translates into logical outcomes. I am not anticipating that it will always be this easy (no), but I am learning more about parenting every day.
I had thought I would write more about food on this forum than I have, since it is a focus that dominates quite a bit of my time and thought these days. To summarize our general focus, it's to eat whole foods prepared at home, something which takes me back to my roots as a child raised in a macrobiotic, whole-foods focused family. I feel like apologizing here, in some ways, because I know how pompous it can sound to discuss food in these ways, especially because I do have the time to think about these things and to go grocery shopping to several places, and to put thought into a grocery list and into creating balanced meals. Also, I think these discussions can border on totally annoying because they can sound so particular, so political and health-focused to the point of seeming as if they exist on a higher plane ("here's an easy recipe--what, you don't have time to cook? it's important to support local farmers; just take your Thursday afternoon to visit local farmer's market because it's important--what, you work Thursday afternoon? Oh dear, no, that's not how I want these discussions to be perceived). Yet, there have been enough blockbuster books and media focus on the power of local living and the health benefits of not eating so many processed foods, which somehow have freed someone like me to feel a bit less as if I am preaching about anything you don't already know.
Last year we tried to get nearly all our fruits and vegetables through weekly deliveries from Full Circle Farm, a local farm that participates in community supported agriculture (CSA). The spring and summer turned out truly delicious fruit, including pears, strawberries, and rich purple plums (some of our favorites), and a plethora of vibrant organic vegetables--broccoli, mixed greens, freshly dug potatoes, green beans, radishes, cucumbers, and ripe, red tomatoes. In the winter we feasted on hearty squashes and winter greens. We discontinued the deliveries when I quit my job, mainly because I wanted to go out an forage for my own things once I had more time to do so, but I am considering starting up the deliveries again. But first I plan to visit our local farmers markets to see what we can find.
Thanks to the gift of one of my very dear friends, I am enjoying reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and it is inspiring me once again to take these choices more seriously. Ever since we moved in, I have been wanting to build raised beds in our backyard for an organic garden, but am a bit daunted by the process. I need to do some research, but mainly I keep thinking I need B's help to go out and buy the wood and cut it down to size, then fill the boxes with organic soil. Somehow we never have time for that on the weekends, but I know that's just because we haven't made a priority of it. Of course, this is a project Cora and I could embark on together some morning or afternoon, so perhaps that will be one of our big projects together. I would love to have her help planting seeds and watering our garden.
So, while part of our plan is to begin eating almost strictly with the seasons and to do our best to buy locally-grown ingredients, right now I am enjoying feasting on everything I find. :) A few foods I've really enjoyed lately are sunflower seeds (raw and roasted), raisins, organic arugula, sweet juicing carrots (raw and in salad), and a variety of cooked vegetables, including one of Cora's favorite combos: cauliflower, carrots, and broccoli sauteed in olive oil and sea salt and steamed in a dash of chicken broth. I've been enjoying making rice in more creative ways, including pressure cooking short grain brown rice (it takes about 25 mins and turns out golden and chewy), and making a variety of pilafs. I just discovered baked rice, of which I've included a few recipes below in case you're interested.
Also, I made a tasty treat for Cora awhile back that B and I decided would also make a great hiking snack. Aside from the fact that it tastes good, I like it because it contains three ingredients. The simplicity of that appeals to me, especially if you've ever gotten lost reading the ingredient list of even the most natural cookie recipe. Here's how I made it, if you want to give it a try:
RAISIN SUNFLOWER SEED COOKIES
Prep time: 5-10 mins
About 1/2 cup organic sunflower seeds, equal parts raw and roasted and salted (you can just use raw; I like the added nutty quality of the roasted seeds, and the salt does a nice job of balancing out the sweetness of the raisins)
About 1/2 cup organic Thompson seedless raisins
1/4 - 1/2 cup of organic brown rice crisps (I used Barbara's)
Place sunflower seeds in a food processor and alternate between the chop and grind settings until the seeds become the consistency of a nut butter, with small chunks. Add raisins and alternate between chop and grind settings until the two ingredients are thoroughly incorporated. Remove from food processor and add rice crisps, a little at a time. Using your hands, mix the ingredients until you have an easily maneuverable "dough," which should be a bit oily from the seeds, and not overly sticky because of the addition of the rice crisps. Form the mixture into a log, wrap in saran wrap (I think waxed paper or foil would also work, but I haven't tried it), and put it in the refrigerator to set. About an hour later you can cut the mixture into small cookie-shaped discs.
Before I sign off, I thought I'd add a few of our recent meals to this post, in case, like me, you're looking for some easy inspiration. I bake a lot of our foods in the winter, and appreciate how hands-off this cooking style is. Most of 'em are straight from or adapted from Joy of Cooking. I made a dinner of the baked white rice and the mushroom chicken, and added a big romaine salad with fresh veggies and Goddess Dressing.
BAKED WHITE RICE
4 servings (according to the book, this foolproof recipe is easily doubled, which I can attest to).
Preheat the oven to 350. Heat in a 2-quart flameproof casserole over medium heat (or use a pan and transfer to a covered baking dish later):
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
Add, and cook, stirring, until softened, 3-5 mins:
1/2 cup chopped onion
I also like to add 1-2 cloves garlic
Add and stir until well coated:
1 cup long-grain white rice (I used pearled rice and the results were delicious)
Add:
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/4 teaspoon salt
(I also added a few healthy turns of the pepper grinder.)
Bring to a boil. Cover, put in the oven, and bake until rice is tender and the stock has been absorbed, 20-25 minutes. Let stand, covered, for 5 mins before serving.
BAKED BROWN RICE WITH MUSHROOMS
4-6 servings
Pearl barley can be substituted for the brown rice; increase the stock to 3 cups.
Preheat the oven to 350. Heat in a 2-quart flameproof casserole or saute pan over medium-high heat:
3 tablespoons butter or olive oil
Add and cook, stirring, until the mushrooms are lightly browned, about 8 mins:
1-1/2 cups coarsely chopped mushrooms
1/2 cup chopped onions
1-2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Add and stir until coated:
1 cup long-grain brown rice
Add:
2-1/4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
Bring to a boil. Cover, transfer to the oven, and bake until the liquid is absorbed and rice is tender, about 45 mins. Let stand, covered, for 10 mins before serving.
CHICKEN BREASTS BAKED ON A BED OF MUSHROOMS
4-6 servings
Position a rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 400. Trim any excess fat from:
6 bone-in or boneless chicken breast halves (with skin). I wanted dark meat so used free-range chicken thighs, enough to cover the mushrooms completely.
Season with:
1 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and black pepper to taste
Lightly oil a baking pan or shallow baking dish just large enough to hold the chicken in a single layer. Remove the stems from:
6 portobello mushrooms or 12-18 large shiitake or button mushrooms
Or cut into 1/4" slices:
Enough smaller mushrooms to cover the bottom of the pan
Arrange the mushrooms in the pan and distribute over all:
2 cups dry white wine, or as needed
1 tablespoon minced garlic
Salt and black pepper to taste
Lay the chicken skin side up (if appropriate) on top of the mushrooms. Brush lightly with:
Olive oil
Bake, uncovered, until the chicken skin turns golden brown or the thigh meat is cooked, about 20 mins. Add more wine if necessary. Baste the chicken with the pan juices and turn it over. Bake until the chicken registers 165 on a thermometer, 10-20 mins more. (To be honest, I didn't do any of this with the chicken thigh meat; I just stuck it in there and checked it when it looked done.)
APPLE CRISP (this is an adaptation of a lot of recipes and open to experimentation. I also like adding berries to the filling.)
Serves 6-8
Preheat oven to 400.
Filling:
8 small apples or equivalent
Cinnamon to taste
1-2 teaspoons vanilla, depending on preference
1 tablespoon butter, cut into small cubes
Topping:
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup butter
1/4 - 1/3 cup brown sugar, depending on your taste
Wash apples and leave skin on. Cut coarsely, about 1/4" thick. Mix in a bowl with a liberal dose of cinnamon. Add vanilla. Place in a 8" baking dish or casserole pan, layering the apples with a few of the butter cubes. You'll want the apples to reach the top of the casserole dish, so add more if necessary.
Lightly melt butter and mix thoroughly with sugar and oats, making sure oats are thoroughly coated. Cover apples with topping and bake until apple mixture is soft and topping is a golden brown, about 40 minutes.
On the sleep front, both B and Cora developed bad coughs that kept all of us up for about a week. B's finally getting better and, along with a few night's on the couch (me), our family finally doesn't quite feel like a bunch of walking zombies. The main thing that happened with Cora is that she became very dependent on nursing, which makes perfect sense for a sick child who can't find much interest in food. But one of the problems I encountered was that she started getting back into the habit of nursing herself to sleep at nap time. That might not sound like a big deal lest you consider the past four months of efforts to get her to sleep with music, a bit of rocking, or in her bed while I pat her back. So, this week I decided to quit nursing her at nap time and encountered the total chaos of a crying, adamant baby all over again, which was so unnaceptably awful that I continued nursing her to sleep (and back to sleep when she wakes after 40 minutes) like she was a drunken sailor unfit for the world without her daily dose. I know it probably sounds ridiculously funny to anyone with more pressing things to worry about, but I have to admit that I had all kinds of anxiety about trying to go back to our old ways, so much so that I chatted about it with B and several friends, practically wringing my hands over the issue. It's just that Cora was so upset about it this week that she was a blubbery, crying, coughing, dramatically sad little mess wringing herself about in my arms like the world was coming to an end. I don't like either of us to feel that way, and yet I also don't like sitting in the rocking chair for upwards of an hour while she nurses and nurses and demands to nurse some more, then doesn't sleep very well because she wants to wake up and nurse.
Enter this afternoon, stage left. I fed her a big lunch and gave her a cookie. When the last crumb had been dusted off of her chin, I held out her sippy cup of rice milk.
"We need to have a little discussion," I said, sitting forward earnestly. She chugged back a few gulps of her rice milk and looked at me with twinkling eyes.
"Cora," I said, "We aren't going to have any more milk today when you go to sleep. No milk. We're going to read books and listen to music before you go to sleep, but we're not going to nurse. It doesn't help you sleep well, and I want you to have a good sleep. No milk. Do you understand?"
"No?" She looked at me. She made the milk sign and held her sippy cup up for my inspection.
"You can have the rice milk, no problem, but no milk. No mom's milk," I said, pointing to my chest for extra clarification.
"No milk," she said, taking another swig from her sippy cup.
"Do you understand?" I asked again. "I just wanted us to talk about this so you won't be upset later. We can't have any milk when it's nap time. We are going to go into your room and read stories, and change your diapers and put on comfy pants, and then listen to music. I will rock you and sing to you before you go to sleep, if you want, but no milk," I started imagining years ahead of family meetings and discussions, outlining rules and issues while we passed around a discussion totem like a Koosh ball or a shaman's stick, all of us very intentioned and focused while we discussed things like what's for dinner and where the kids can walk when they go outside alone, or what our stance is on watching TV. It felt totally comical and yet very important, communicating like this with my daughter.
"No milk," she repeated. And she put her head on her shoulder (the sign for sleep) and smiled, then handed me the sippy cup. We went into her room and went through all the steps I had described to her. I asked her if she wanted me to sing her a song and she said yes, and I held my breath when I picked her up, waiting for her to turn into a writhing serpent in my arms, all mouth, demanding MILK. But she looked at our rocking chair and then stared straight ahead, her little brain working away. When I was singing to her, she looked at me a couple of times and said "No milk?" and when I confirmed this, she put her head on my shoulder.
Lo and behold, the little lass slipped to sleep in her crib while I rubbed her back for a bit. She awoke like clockwork 40 minutes later and went back to sleep after a few minutes of gentle rocking. I love that she understands so much, I love that she listens and is such a careful little person. I love how loving she is when she kisses my cheek or my shoulder and looks at the wolf on her wall and howls, then snuggles into my chest and tries to go to sleep. I love my daughter, I just do. I am feeling very proud of her right now. And she's been asleep now for TWO HOURS. Ok, dude, wow. I suppose it makes perfect sense that having a conversation with your toddler can be quite a successful act, but I'm just not used to it. I feel like we live in such a culture of trickery when it comes to our kids, of parental power that supercedes our children's desires, and it is refreshing to be at a point when Cora's comprehension translates into logical outcomes. I am not anticipating that it will always be this easy (no), but I am learning more about parenting every day.
I had thought I would write more about food on this forum than I have, since it is a focus that dominates quite a bit of my time and thought these days. To summarize our general focus, it's to eat whole foods prepared at home, something which takes me back to my roots as a child raised in a macrobiotic, whole-foods focused family. I feel like apologizing here, in some ways, because I know how pompous it can sound to discuss food in these ways, especially because I do have the time to think about these things and to go grocery shopping to several places, and to put thought into a grocery list and into creating balanced meals. Also, I think these discussions can border on totally annoying because they can sound so particular, so political and health-focused to the point of seeming as if they exist on a higher plane ("here's an easy recipe--what, you don't have time to cook? it's important to support local farmers; just take your Thursday afternoon to visit local farmer's market because it's important--what, you work Thursday afternoon? Oh dear, no, that's not how I want these discussions to be perceived). Yet, there have been enough blockbuster books and media focus on the power of local living and the health benefits of not eating so many processed foods, which somehow have freed someone like me to feel a bit less as if I am preaching about anything you don't already know.
Last year we tried to get nearly all our fruits and vegetables through weekly deliveries from Full Circle Farm, a local farm that participates in community supported agriculture (CSA). The spring and summer turned out truly delicious fruit, including pears, strawberries, and rich purple plums (some of our favorites), and a plethora of vibrant organic vegetables--broccoli, mixed greens, freshly dug potatoes, green beans, radishes, cucumbers, and ripe, red tomatoes. In the winter we feasted on hearty squashes and winter greens. We discontinued the deliveries when I quit my job, mainly because I wanted to go out an forage for my own things once I had more time to do so, but I am considering starting up the deliveries again. But first I plan to visit our local farmers markets to see what we can find.
Thanks to the gift of one of my very dear friends, I am enjoying reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and it is inspiring me once again to take these choices more seriously. Ever since we moved in, I have been wanting to build raised beds in our backyard for an organic garden, but am a bit daunted by the process. I need to do some research, but mainly I keep thinking I need B's help to go out and buy the wood and cut it down to size, then fill the boxes with organic soil. Somehow we never have time for that on the weekends, but I know that's just because we haven't made a priority of it. Of course, this is a project Cora and I could embark on together some morning or afternoon, so perhaps that will be one of our big projects together. I would love to have her help planting seeds and watering our garden.
So, while part of our plan is to begin eating almost strictly with the seasons and to do our best to buy locally-grown ingredients, right now I am enjoying feasting on everything I find. :) A few foods I've really enjoyed lately are sunflower seeds (raw and roasted), raisins, organic arugula, sweet juicing carrots (raw and in salad), and a variety of cooked vegetables, including one of Cora's favorite combos: cauliflower, carrots, and broccoli sauteed in olive oil and sea salt and steamed in a dash of chicken broth. I've been enjoying making rice in more creative ways, including pressure cooking short grain brown rice (it takes about 25 mins and turns out golden and chewy), and making a variety of pilafs. I just discovered baked rice, of which I've included a few recipes below in case you're interested.
Also, I made a tasty treat for Cora awhile back that B and I decided would also make a great hiking snack. Aside from the fact that it tastes good, I like it because it contains three ingredients. The simplicity of that appeals to me, especially if you've ever gotten lost reading the ingredient list of even the most natural cookie recipe. Here's how I made it, if you want to give it a try:
RAISIN SUNFLOWER SEED COOKIES
Prep time: 5-10 mins
About 1/2 cup organic sunflower seeds, equal parts raw and roasted and salted (you can just use raw; I like the added nutty quality of the roasted seeds, and the salt does a nice job of balancing out the sweetness of the raisins)
About 1/2 cup organic Thompson seedless raisins
1/4 - 1/2 cup of organic brown rice crisps (I used Barbara's)
Place sunflower seeds in a food processor and alternate between the chop and grind settings until the seeds become the consistency of a nut butter, with small chunks. Add raisins and alternate between chop and grind settings until the two ingredients are thoroughly incorporated. Remove from food processor and add rice crisps, a little at a time. Using your hands, mix the ingredients until you have an easily maneuverable "dough," which should be a bit oily from the seeds, and not overly sticky because of the addition of the rice crisps. Form the mixture into a log, wrap in saran wrap (I think waxed paper or foil would also work, but I haven't tried it), and put it in the refrigerator to set. About an hour later you can cut the mixture into small cookie-shaped discs.
Before I sign off, I thought I'd add a few of our recent meals to this post, in case, like me, you're looking for some easy inspiration. I bake a lot of our foods in the winter, and appreciate how hands-off this cooking style is. Most of 'em are straight from or adapted from Joy of Cooking. I made a dinner of the baked white rice and the mushroom chicken, and added a big romaine salad with fresh veggies and Goddess Dressing.
BAKED WHITE RICE
4 servings (according to the book, this foolproof recipe is easily doubled, which I can attest to).
Preheat the oven to 350. Heat in a 2-quart flameproof casserole over medium heat (or use a pan and transfer to a covered baking dish later):
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
Add, and cook, stirring, until softened, 3-5 mins:
1/2 cup chopped onion
I also like to add 1-2 cloves garlic
Add and stir until well coated:
1 cup long-grain white rice (I used pearled rice and the results were delicious)
Add:
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/4 teaspoon salt
(I also added a few healthy turns of the pepper grinder.)
Bring to a boil. Cover, put in the oven, and bake until rice is tender and the stock has been absorbed, 20-25 minutes. Let stand, covered, for 5 mins before serving.
BAKED BROWN RICE WITH MUSHROOMS
4-6 servings
Pearl barley can be substituted for the brown rice; increase the stock to 3 cups.
Preheat the oven to 350. Heat in a 2-quart flameproof casserole or saute pan over medium-high heat:
3 tablespoons butter or olive oil
Add and cook, stirring, until the mushrooms are lightly browned, about 8 mins:
1-1/2 cups coarsely chopped mushrooms
1/2 cup chopped onions
1-2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Add and stir until coated:
1 cup long-grain brown rice
Add:
2-1/4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
Bring to a boil. Cover, transfer to the oven, and bake until the liquid is absorbed and rice is tender, about 45 mins. Let stand, covered, for 10 mins before serving.
CHICKEN BREASTS BAKED ON A BED OF MUSHROOMS
4-6 servings
Position a rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 400. Trim any excess fat from:
6 bone-in or boneless chicken breast halves (with skin). I wanted dark meat so used free-range chicken thighs, enough to cover the mushrooms completely.
Season with:
1 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and black pepper to taste
Lightly oil a baking pan or shallow baking dish just large enough to hold the chicken in a single layer. Remove the stems from:
6 portobello mushrooms or 12-18 large shiitake or button mushrooms
Or cut into 1/4" slices:
Enough smaller mushrooms to cover the bottom of the pan
Arrange the mushrooms in the pan and distribute over all:
2 cups dry white wine, or as needed
1 tablespoon minced garlic
Salt and black pepper to taste
Lay the chicken skin side up (if appropriate) on top of the mushrooms. Brush lightly with:
Olive oil
Bake, uncovered, until the chicken skin turns golden brown or the thigh meat is cooked, about 20 mins. Add more wine if necessary. Baste the chicken with the pan juices and turn it over. Bake until the chicken registers 165 on a thermometer, 10-20 mins more. (To be honest, I didn't do any of this with the chicken thigh meat; I just stuck it in there and checked it when it looked done.)
APPLE CRISP (this is an adaptation of a lot of recipes and open to experimentation. I also like adding berries to the filling.)
Serves 6-8
Preheat oven to 400.
Filling:
8 small apples or equivalent
Cinnamon to taste
1-2 teaspoons vanilla, depending on preference
1 tablespoon butter, cut into small cubes
Topping:
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup butter
1/4 - 1/3 cup brown sugar, depending on your taste
Wash apples and leave skin on. Cut coarsely, about 1/4" thick. Mix in a bowl with a liberal dose of cinnamon. Add vanilla. Place in a 8" baking dish or casserole pan, layering the apples with a few of the butter cubes. You'll want the apples to reach the top of the casserole dish, so add more if necessary.
Lightly melt butter and mix thoroughly with sugar and oats, making sure oats are thoroughly coated. Cover apples with topping and bake until apple mixture is soft and topping is a golden brown, about 40 minutes.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Books and cooks and stuff
This is going to be a comically short post, I'm sure. Cora has been sleeping now for 40 minutes, which means she's about to wake up. I'll be in the middle of a sentence and will just publish with whatever I've got. It'll probably be peppered with spelling errors and randomness.
So, I'm writing a short story that I started over the weekend, and I am enjoying it so much. My mom came over today morning to watch Cora for awhile, and I headed up to the neighborhood coffee shop and had a cookie and a hot cup of blackberry tea, then got lost in my little tale. I think I'm about midway through. It is really odd how therapeutic it is to write, especially something other than a journal entry. Either my brain benefits from the work and concentration, or my psyche benefits from the escape...or maybe a little of both. I left the shop feeling happy, and my head felt clear.
Also, I am searching for a really, really, really good book to read, the kind that is so fabulous you can hardly wait to pick it up, and you're totally disappointed when you're too tired at night to read anymore, so you turn out the light and close your eyes, but end up creeping out to your living room couch for just a few more quiet pages, until suddenly you realize it's like 3 a.m. and you're completely wasted. I have been struggling with The Far Pavilions for about a year and a half now, and have read several books in between. I picked it up awhile ago hoping it would go back to being the incredible saga it was for the first 600 pages, but it's not. It's just a yawningly long-winded story that needs to wrap up eventually. At least that's how I feel right now, maybe I'll be convinced otherwise when I'm through. Still, it's the kind of experience right now where I look at the 300+ pages still to go, and I just kind of set it down reticently, wishing I had the gumption to keep ploughing through so it would just be over already.
I was at the bookstore the other day and saw a bunch of new, contemporary fiction, and it occurred to me that maybe I've become one of those readers that just really likes contemporary stories. I like the way the books look so clean and blue (have you noticed there's so much blue in the covers these days?) and filled with references to water. I tend to like novels that are told from a whole bunch of perspectives, little linked tales that weave together into a final, satisfying story. Hmm. I also loved Shadows of the Wind, which I read a bit ago. So maybe I need a contemporary novel. But no, that's not really true, either...I read Pride and Prejudice the other weekend and enjoyed that, too (even though I used to claim I hated Jane Austen, which was a silly thing to say), and I think Jane Eyre might still be one of my favorite books. I also just finished Possession, which I've read many times and still totally love. I'm craving a bit of a mystery, with some good romance mixed in, something crisp and clean but with satisfying soggy places, too. Anyway, if you're reading this and you would care to suggest one to me, even an old classic that I should reacquaint myself with, I would be grateful.
I am always surprised by how short the days are in a northwest December. It's only 4 o'clock and it's getting dark. It's hibernation time. I need a good book, a good blanket, a pot of tea, and a pair of slippers. I'm already thinking about dinner, which feels odd--the day slips by and we have to get out during the three beautiful hours in the afternoon, otherwise we've missed it, the window has closed.
Good grief, I'm still writing, which means the wee one is still sleeping. Good for her. Maybe I'll ramble for a second longer. I've been enjoying cooking, and it's because I like cooking winter food. I like baking squash and potatoes and chicken, making big pots of soup with all sorts of random stuff in it, baking a quick batch of cookies or muffins. I've decided I need more recipes. My sister gave me the recently updated Joy of Cooking, and it has a million ideas, of course (including a really good mushroom barley soup and a shepherd's pie), but not necessarily a lot of recipes with kind of a different twist on things, like spicy quinoa or a healthy creamed soup without a ton of cream. I'd like to find a recipe book that was into "pinches" and "pats" rather than asking me to pull out my little fan of measuring spoons all the time. That's why I don't follow very many recipes, I get impatient.
There's a cat lurking outside my window, stealthily searching for some little rodent to tumble around with, and it reminds me of how much fun it's going to be to have a toddler in the spring and summertime. I am going to plant a small garden for us to tend, and we'll be able to play tag on our lawn, and I'll even be able to dress little C up in a swimsuit and set up the sprinkler. Right now, there are all these mushrooms dotting the grass, and clumps of dog poop from my mom's dog (grr), and I am having a tough time letting her go out there and wobble around. I know parents need to achieve that fine balance between curiosity and safety, allowing their children to properly explore their world. And I'm totally OK with that, I'm just not cool with my wobbly little kid eating random fungus and moldy canine contributions. So, we've obviously got some work to do on our yard before it becomes the outdoor extravaganza that I hope she'll come to enjoy.
You know, my ridiculous little baby is actually sleeping the afternoon away. I am very proud of her. I'm going to go back to my story and see how far I can get with the next scene.
So, I'm writing a short story that I started over the weekend, and I am enjoying it so much. My mom came over today morning to watch Cora for awhile, and I headed up to the neighborhood coffee shop and had a cookie and a hot cup of blackberry tea, then got lost in my little tale. I think I'm about midway through. It is really odd how therapeutic it is to write, especially something other than a journal entry. Either my brain benefits from the work and concentration, or my psyche benefits from the escape...or maybe a little of both. I left the shop feeling happy, and my head felt clear.
Also, I am searching for a really, really, really good book to read, the kind that is so fabulous you can hardly wait to pick it up, and you're totally disappointed when you're too tired at night to read anymore, so you turn out the light and close your eyes, but end up creeping out to your living room couch for just a few more quiet pages, until suddenly you realize it's like 3 a.m. and you're completely wasted. I have been struggling with The Far Pavilions for about a year and a half now, and have read several books in between. I picked it up awhile ago hoping it would go back to being the incredible saga it was for the first 600 pages, but it's not. It's just a yawningly long-winded story that needs to wrap up eventually. At least that's how I feel right now, maybe I'll be convinced otherwise when I'm through. Still, it's the kind of experience right now where I look at the 300+ pages still to go, and I just kind of set it down reticently, wishing I had the gumption to keep ploughing through so it would just be over already.
I was at the bookstore the other day and saw a bunch of new, contemporary fiction, and it occurred to me that maybe I've become one of those readers that just really likes contemporary stories. I like the way the books look so clean and blue (have you noticed there's so much blue in the covers these days?) and filled with references to water. I tend to like novels that are told from a whole bunch of perspectives, little linked tales that weave together into a final, satisfying story. Hmm. I also loved Shadows of the Wind, which I read a bit ago. So maybe I need a contemporary novel. But no, that's not really true, either...I read Pride and Prejudice the other weekend and enjoyed that, too (even though I used to claim I hated Jane Austen, which was a silly thing to say), and I think Jane Eyre might still be one of my favorite books. I also just finished Possession, which I've read many times and still totally love. I'm craving a bit of a mystery, with some good romance mixed in, something crisp and clean but with satisfying soggy places, too. Anyway, if you're reading this and you would care to suggest one to me, even an old classic that I should reacquaint myself with, I would be grateful.
I am always surprised by how short the days are in a northwest December. It's only 4 o'clock and it's getting dark. It's hibernation time. I need a good book, a good blanket, a pot of tea, and a pair of slippers. I'm already thinking about dinner, which feels odd--the day slips by and we have to get out during the three beautiful hours in the afternoon, otherwise we've missed it, the window has closed.
Good grief, I'm still writing, which means the wee one is still sleeping. Good for her. Maybe I'll ramble for a second longer. I've been enjoying cooking, and it's because I like cooking winter food. I like baking squash and potatoes and chicken, making big pots of soup with all sorts of random stuff in it, baking a quick batch of cookies or muffins. I've decided I need more recipes. My sister gave me the recently updated Joy of Cooking, and it has a million ideas, of course (including a really good mushroom barley soup and a shepherd's pie), but not necessarily a lot of recipes with kind of a different twist on things, like spicy quinoa or a healthy creamed soup without a ton of cream. I'd like to find a recipe book that was into "pinches" and "pats" rather than asking me to pull out my little fan of measuring spoons all the time. That's why I don't follow very many recipes, I get impatient.
There's a cat lurking outside my window, stealthily searching for some little rodent to tumble around with, and it reminds me of how much fun it's going to be to have a toddler in the spring and summertime. I am going to plant a small garden for us to tend, and we'll be able to play tag on our lawn, and I'll even be able to dress little C up in a swimsuit and set up the sprinkler. Right now, there are all these mushrooms dotting the grass, and clumps of dog poop from my mom's dog (grr), and I am having a tough time letting her go out there and wobble around. I know parents need to achieve that fine balance between curiosity and safety, allowing their children to properly explore their world. And I'm totally OK with that, I'm just not cool with my wobbly little kid eating random fungus and moldy canine contributions. So, we've obviously got some work to do on our yard before it becomes the outdoor extravaganza that I hope she'll come to enjoy.
You know, my ridiculous little baby is actually sleeping the afternoon away. I am very proud of her. I'm going to go back to my story and see how far I can get with the next scene.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
All sorts of small changes
Before I decided to quit my job, I had accepted a promotion that would have involved more hours. In order to make it all work out in my head, I had decided that we needed support. At the risk of sounding like I think pampering is just a way of life, I still feel like I need to outline the extent of what this change would have involved. We were going to have a full-time nanny. I was also thinking it would be awesome if the nanny would be willing to prepare dinner once in awhile, and clean up after Cora. Now, of course, the goal of having a nanny was not to have additional household help, it was that Cora would get undivided attention. That said, it started to sound pretty tempting to have someone organize our disastrous cupboards and vacuum once in awhile, even do dishes and laundry. So I realized that in order to save our relationship with said nanny, we would need to hire housecleaning help. And, because our yard is in total disarray--leaves everywhere, weeds overtaking all beds--I thought, well, we should hire someone to help with that, too. In my mind, it was the only way to keep sanity alive in a household of two working parents, both of whom would need to work late probably more often than we cared to admit. Suddenly, however, when I listed it out in my head, it started to feel like I was going to farm out all the everyday work tasks of life so that I could sit at a computer and make money. (I know there is a lot more virtue to working full-time than making money, such as building a career, keeping my resume alive, bringing in my own share of the income--but that is for another post on another day). It also began to feel like we should live in an estate, rather than our humble little house.
So, one of the new daily parts of our lives is for me to do all the things I was thinking I would pay someone to do.
I went grocery shopping a couple of days ago and started really trying to find ways to save money. Things are obviously a lot tighter without my income, and I've figured out exactly what we can afford each week. And I know perhaps this might sound odd to some people, but one of my favorite things to do is to go grocery shopping. I love filling my cart with a whole bunch of yumminess, picking out a new sauce or chocolate or wine or microbrew. We go to Trader Joe's at least once a week. When I was shopping at TJ's this last time, I realized that I often gravitate toward more prepared foods than I used to--like frozen cooked chicken and jars of simmer sauce, granola bars and hummus and roast turkey and ice cream. And the cart would literally be filled to the gills with goodness, but I wouldn't know quite what to fix when I got home and it was all unpacked and sitting untidily in our kitchen. Aside from the obvious health benefits of cooking more of our food from scratch, I have been feeling more and more aghast at the final bill and now, of course, is an important time to reign things in.
I grew up in a family that put a huge focus on whole foods, to a neurotic extent. At one point my family's diet/lifestyle was defined as organic, sugar-free, vegan macrobiotic, which, as you might imagine, narrowed things down considerably. I didn't eat meat until I was 22. When we used to go grocery shopping, the really expensive stuff we sprung for were things like imported seaweed, organic aduki beans, almond butter, yeast-free organic bread. And then when I was in college, I lived on a college budget and was literally able to leave the grocery store with enough food for a week for around $25. I actually loved to buy frozen veggies (boring ones, like cut carrots and peas and corn and lima beans) and heat them in the microwave and put salt and pepper on them. Then I started living with my now-husband and discovered how tasteless and limiting my grocery list was, so I started buying a lot more interesting foods and eating out more--and growing to love it. There were weeks when we lived in Pasadena when I'm not sure we cooked at all. Now, I'd like to go back to the source. I want to buy bulk foods and soak and cook beans from scratch, make whole meals out of dry ingredients and marinate poultry for a day before cooking it rather than defrosting it in the microwave before hurriedly serving it up. I want to bake bread and make cookies. Things that take time. This morning I baked a big kabocha squash, a ton of yams, and apples and pears. I made Cora a pot of creamy squash soup and I might try making her some yam and apple cookies.
I am just having layered realizations about how much I have missed out on because of habit or a lack of time or connection to my own life. I like working with food in its original form. I like cooking, I like the way food nourishes beyond nutrition. I like thinking about food in a different way, having the time to do it justice. I close my eyes and can imagine that organic garden behind my dream home on the island. I imagine finishing my work on a new chapter, walking downstairs and putting on my dirty gardening shoes, going outside and loosening the soil around carrots and green beans, trimming tomato plants and picking lettuce, filling a basket with food that I have helped grow and harvest. And I can picture my family eating soup and laughing while they tell silly stories and soak bread in their bowls.
Writing here is like opening a lid slowly on something that has been lying dormant, growing old and stale. Just typing makes me aware of the alchemy of the act, of charged elements mixing around me and starting to shift everything. Small changes feel so big right now.
Yesterday evening we went for a walk around Green Lake. It gets so dark, so early at this time of year--by 4:30 it felt like it was already 8 o'clock. I watched the sky darken and a true twilight set in, the kind I haven't witnessed in forever. Light streaked across the sky and turned violet. Ducks skimmed across the water. All the trees around the lake were ablaze with autumn, reflecting themselves on the shoreline. Cora was asleep on my chest. Her small snores would periodically interrupt the sound of people running by or chatting about their day. I walked past two high school kids singing something about marshmallow pie. Even though Cora was so heavy on my chest, a sleepy 24-pound weight, I felt layers of myself rising up and feeling so light and free. I felt grateful to my core.
So, one of the new daily parts of our lives is for me to do all the things I was thinking I would pay someone to do.
I went grocery shopping a couple of days ago and started really trying to find ways to save money. Things are obviously a lot tighter without my income, and I've figured out exactly what we can afford each week. And I know perhaps this might sound odd to some people, but one of my favorite things to do is to go grocery shopping. I love filling my cart with a whole bunch of yumminess, picking out a new sauce or chocolate or wine or microbrew. We go to Trader Joe's at least once a week. When I was shopping at TJ's this last time, I realized that I often gravitate toward more prepared foods than I used to--like frozen cooked chicken and jars of simmer sauce, granola bars and hummus and roast turkey and ice cream. And the cart would literally be filled to the gills with goodness, but I wouldn't know quite what to fix when I got home and it was all unpacked and sitting untidily in our kitchen. Aside from the obvious health benefits of cooking more of our food from scratch, I have been feeling more and more aghast at the final bill and now, of course, is an important time to reign things in.
I grew up in a family that put a huge focus on whole foods, to a neurotic extent. At one point my family's diet/lifestyle was defined as organic, sugar-free, vegan macrobiotic, which, as you might imagine, narrowed things down considerably. I didn't eat meat until I was 22. When we used to go grocery shopping, the really expensive stuff we sprung for were things like imported seaweed, organic aduki beans, almond butter, yeast-free organic bread. And then when I was in college, I lived on a college budget and was literally able to leave the grocery store with enough food for a week for around $25. I actually loved to buy frozen veggies (boring ones, like cut carrots and peas and corn and lima beans) and heat them in the microwave and put salt and pepper on them. Then I started living with my now-husband and discovered how tasteless and limiting my grocery list was, so I started buying a lot more interesting foods and eating out more--and growing to love it. There were weeks when we lived in Pasadena when I'm not sure we cooked at all. Now, I'd like to go back to the source. I want to buy bulk foods and soak and cook beans from scratch, make whole meals out of dry ingredients and marinate poultry for a day before cooking it rather than defrosting it in the microwave before hurriedly serving it up. I want to bake bread and make cookies. Things that take time. This morning I baked a big kabocha squash, a ton of yams, and apples and pears. I made Cora a pot of creamy squash soup and I might try making her some yam and apple cookies.
I am just having layered realizations about how much I have missed out on because of habit or a lack of time or connection to my own life. I like working with food in its original form. I like cooking, I like the way food nourishes beyond nutrition. I like thinking about food in a different way, having the time to do it justice. I close my eyes and can imagine that organic garden behind my dream home on the island. I imagine finishing my work on a new chapter, walking downstairs and putting on my dirty gardening shoes, going outside and loosening the soil around carrots and green beans, trimming tomato plants and picking lettuce, filling a basket with food that I have helped grow and harvest. And I can picture my family eating soup and laughing while they tell silly stories and soak bread in their bowls.
Writing here is like opening a lid slowly on something that has been lying dormant, growing old and stale. Just typing makes me aware of the alchemy of the act, of charged elements mixing around me and starting to shift everything. Small changes feel so big right now.
Yesterday evening we went for a walk around Green Lake. It gets so dark, so early at this time of year--by 4:30 it felt like it was already 8 o'clock. I watched the sky darken and a true twilight set in, the kind I haven't witnessed in forever. Light streaked across the sky and turned violet. Ducks skimmed across the water. All the trees around the lake were ablaze with autumn, reflecting themselves on the shoreline. Cora was asleep on my chest. Her small snores would periodically interrupt the sound of people running by or chatting about their day. I walked past two high school kids singing something about marshmallow pie. Even though Cora was so heavy on my chest, a sleepy 24-pound weight, I felt layers of myself rising up and feeling so light and free. I felt grateful to my core.
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