Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Asparagus dreams

Why is it, whenever I set a goal I manage to get worse at completing a task? As soon as I made a goal to write every week....well....a month goes by and nary a post! Rebelious nature? Ha, that's funny! Maybe the pressure creates a vaccum of ideas. Kind of like when someone tells you not to think of a pink elephant. Saw him, didn't you? Oh, who knows. Whatever the reason, I've decided to refrain from goals related to blog-land and have re-entered the fray with a new approach. Instead of a goal to diligantly write every week, I'm giving myself permission to dream freely at least once a week. If it leads to a blog post, yay. If not, yay. Yeah, I'm one of those people who set the bedroom alarm clock ten minutes faster than "real" time so I'm less likely to be late for things.

In other news, March as been a strange and wonderful creature this year. From snow and the first bulbs just pushing their heads through the soil...

...to all-out 70-degree-F temperatures and the wanton explosion of bud, flower and tendril (definitely need to take more pictures of this). And back to snow, sleet and hurricane-like winds again. We're riding the waves of this strange spring. Outside from sun-up to sun-down when we can...

...and finding good rainy-day activities when all we want to do it run outside and drink in the sun again.


And, as much as I'm feeling the urge to eat obscene amounts of asparagus, we are still too early for the local varieties here in the northeast. Even the grocery store is still carrying the Mexican-grown stalks, although I have a hard time believing there aren't farmers somewhere in the United States of American harvesting asparagus right this very second.

Instead, we're enjoying some lighter fare withough the customary spring staples. Mounds of asparagus and rhubarb recipes will follow when the time is right. Until then...

Citrus-scented Peanut Noodles

So I started out intending to make the Aromatic Noodles with Lime-Peanut Sauce in Ellie Krieger's The Food You Crave. But, I didn't have limes and I didn't have broccoli and I didn't have snow or sugar snap peas. Um...so, basically, I really made this one up as I went along. But, the key element is the sauce. Hell, you could pour the stuff on an old shoe and I'd probably devour it!

12 oz (1 box) soba or lo mein noodles (or whatever pasta you have around)
2 cups frozen edamame (soybeans)--make sure they are already shelled
2 large carrots, julienned
1/2 cup creamy natural peanut butter
1/4 cup soy sauce (I use tamari--doesn't seem as "salty")
1/4 cup water (I just used the pasta water from cooking the noodles)
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon fresh orange juice
3/4-inch piece of ginger, finely grated
2 tablespoons firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 teaspoons black sesame seeds
1 teaspoon white sesame seeds

Cook the pasta according to package directions. Drain and rinse under cold running water. While the pasta is cooking, steam the edamames and julienne carrots. Just 1-1/2 to 2 minutes in a covered dish in the microwave (with a little water) cooks both the edamames and the carrots just right. Make the sauce by whisking the peanut butter, soy sauce, vinegar, lemon and orange juices, ginger, brown sugar and red pepper flakes in a small bowl until smooth. (Ellie recommends making the sauce in a food processor or blender, but since we don't own a food processor and our blender is broken, good old elbow grease worked just fine.) Pour the noodles into a large serving bowl, top with the veggies and pour over the sauce. Toss to coat and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Consume with much gusto!

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Ordinary Chaos

Life is messy, mucky, full of juice and sticky sweetness, dog hair and mud. If you're living it right, that is. For someone with a tendency toward cleanliness, order, and the illusive "perfection," the dichotomy can be unsettling and confusing at times, to say the least.

My loving mother recently gave me a book meant to help one clearing one's clutter with Feng Shui. I flew through the book and immediately dove into shoveling out our bedroom which had been buried under I don't know how many feet of boxes and bags and piles. (We had been using it as the "place where visitors don't go" and dumping the random bits and bobs we swept up during cleaning storms behind the closed door.) I proudly dropped six trash bags full of clothing, shoes, bags and other assorted items at the Salvation Army. Then I got to the chapter on poop. Yes, poop. (Some rant about intestinal clutter, etc., etc.) It was then I realized (with incredibly centering laughter) that we (meaning I) take ourselves too seriously and, man, do we (meaning I) over analyze too much.

Don't get me wrong, I adore my refreshingly clean bedroom and still believe there is nothing as satisfying as a newly clean bathroom (or intestinal track, I suppose), but I know I need to keep perspective or else drive myself mad. So, there are crumbs on my kitchen floor (a lot of them), dog hair on my bedspread, toys on the dining room table, and a pile of laundry on the living room chair (clean at least).

To prevent a quick descent into total chaos I hold myself to the same rule we've imposed on the little bear...Put away what you're done with before getting something else out. Though it has not affect on the dust, it does keep the hounds at bay. What? You don't have mysterious dogs that accompany your clutter?

Well, nevermind that...hounds or no hounds, I think I've found some sort of balance between the sparkling and bejeweled cleaning lady in my head (think a combination of Kim Woodburn from How Clean is Your House and Vanessa Branch the Orbit gum girl) and the habit for all our human constructs to continually strive to return their natural state. Realizing the clutter and dust is just the earth's way of reclaiming her materials gives me just the right amount of perspective regarding the whole neat and clean "thing." As for why the cleaning lady in my head is a bleach-blond Brit...I'm going to leave that one to the professional over analyzers of the world.

In the meantime, here is some sticky, messy goodness in which to drown the cleaning lady in your head...

Overnight Cinnamon Rolls
(based on a recipe by Alton Brown)

You may think (like I did) why bother with all this effort, but these are so worth it. The soft-fluffy dough is like a still-sleepwarm pillow on a cold winter morning. Just be sure you have a large mug of strong coffee or a tall glass of ice-cold milk nearby to keep your taste buds from fainting outright.

Dough:
4 large egg yolks
1 large whole egg
1/4 cup white sugar
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
6 ounces buttermilk (or 6 oz whole milk with splash of vinegar)
4 to 5 cups flour, plus additional for dusting
1 package instant quick-rise dry yeast (I like Hodgeson Mill)
1-1/4 teaspoons fine sea salt
Vegetable oil

Filling:
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
Pinch sea salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Icing:
2-1/2 ounces cream cheese, softened
3 tablespoons milk
2 cups powdered sugar

In a small bowl whisk approximately 2 cups of the flour along with the yeast and salt. In a large mixing bowl whisk the egg yolks, whole egg, sugar, butter, and buttermilk. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and whisk until moistened and combined. Add another 2 cups of the flour and mix with stiff wooden spoon until combined. Dump onto a floured board and knead for approximate 8-10 minutes adding additional flour as needed to prevent sticking to the board or your hands. The dough should feel soft and moist but not sticky and should be smooth and elastic to the touch. Lightly oil a large bowl, transfer the dough to the bowl, and lightly oil the top of the dough. Cover and let double in volume, 1-1/2 to 2 hours.

While your dough is rising, combine the brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a medium bowl. Mix until well incorporated. Set aside until ready to use.

Butter a 9 by 13-inch glass baking dish. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and gently shape it into an 18- x 12-inch rectangle with your hands with the long side nearest you. Brush the dough with the 2 tablespoons of melted butter, leaving 1/2-inch border along the one of the long edges. Sprinkle the filling mixture over the dough, leaving a 3/4-inch border along the same long edge, and gently press the filling into the dough. Beginning with the filling-covered long-edge, roll the dough into a tight cylinder. Firmly pinch the seam to seal and roll the cylinder seam side down. Very gently squeeze the cylinder to create even thickness. Using a serrated knife, slice the cylinder into 2-inch rolls (giving you approximately 12 rolls). Arrange rolls cut side down in the baking dish, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and store in the refrigerator overnight or up to 16 hours.

Remove the rolls from the refrigerator and place in a cold oven. Fill a shallow pan 2/3-full of boiling water and set on the rack below the rolls. Close the oven door and let the rolls rise until they look slightly puffy which should take approximately 30 minutes. Remove the rolls and the shallow pan of water from the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F.

When the oven is ready, place the rolls on the middle rack and bake until golden brown, approximately 30 - 40 minutes.

When the rolls are baked, let them cool while you start the icing. Whisk the cream cheese in a bowl creamy and add the milk. Whisk until combined. Sift in the powdered sugar, and whisk until smooth. Spread over the rolls and serve immediately.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I heart snow (sometimes)

Winter is not my favorite season. It always seems like it takes so much work to get outside. And before you know it, everyone is ready to come in again. Just the thought makes me want to crawl back under the wool blanket and take a nap. Or at least grab a hot cocoa and a good book and snuggle in for a couple of hours.

Yep. That's about how I feel when I think about the process of "getting ready."

The problem is, I actually enjoy being out in the biting winter air--especially on one of those particularly sharp, sunny days. So I try to side with my heart most days and rouse my grouchy, hibernating brain into action. I don't know if its the rosey cheeks, tingling skin or shot of vitamin D that does it, but all the grumbling pays off with sparkling eyes, laughter that bubbles easily to the surface, and an extra boost of energy.

Here are some of the ways we've been enjoying our snow days....How about you?

***

Winter Wild Thing...

Maple snow...

Old Time Ice House...

Old timers harvesting ice...

Calm (and cold) waters...

Skating, fishing, cocoa-ing...

At day's end...

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Music for the soul

My mother always told me I'd regret not learning an instrument when I grew up. But I found more joy listening than practicing when I was young, and live music wasn't something that was really a part of our family. What I mean is no one in my family played.

There is something about "everyday" music that seeps through the skin and into the soul. It bypasses all boundaries and assumptions.

Crooked Still at the Mauck Chunk Opera House

I might not play either, but I intend to make sure the little bear experiences the closest thing to everyday music. So we go to concerts, open mic nights, music in the park. And he soaks it all in. Maybe he'll play one day, maybe he won't. But, I hope he'll always carry music in his soul.

There is something a friend sent to me the other day I know I'll carry in my soul...


Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Holly and the Oak

The winter winds find me distracted and turning ever inward. And as the holidays snuck up from behind, I realized I was in desperate need of connecting. Not as in Facebook or holiday cards, but as in honest-to-goodness, face-to-face, heart-to-heart connecting.

Luckily, our solstice and Christmas holidays were filled with the warmth and light of family and friends. We gave less of our pockets this year, but more of ourselves. And as the sun rose again after the longest night, my thoughts started turning to the rewards of living with less. How out of necessity, stumbling in the dark, we manage to stub our toes on treasures we never knew were there.

Treasures are not only often hard to see but, unfortunately, fleeting. Ardie Rodale, matriach of the Rodale family, Rodale, Inc. and the Rodale Institute passed away just days before the solstice. As the dark overcame the light, she made her journey into the great unknown. She touched so many people in her lifetime, her firey spirit continues to glow within the heart of each of those souls.

It is easy to saint in our memories those who have passed. I'm sure Ardie was at times falable, grumpy, petty, scared, and otherwise just as human as I. And, though I spent a scant amount of time with her, Ardath Rodale managed to speak to my heart with her unguarded thoughts on life. Her simple, uncensored and incredibly positive words always felt real--bare and so honest as though they came from someone both naive and wise. May we all be so lucky to hold naivety and wisdom in equal parts.

The papa bear is terribly talented at finding trees with old bird nests nestled within their branches. This year will make the third nest that has graced our Yule tree in the eight years we've been married. May this home within our home bring us good luck for the year to come. And may the ceaseless turning of the wheel bring inspiration to us all. My new year's resolution: Keep my soul open to the path that feels right--whatever that may be.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A Gratitude Tree

After reading the lovely Erin's post on making a Gratitude Tree with her little one, we just had to join in and create our very own version.

Rowan's short of patience when it comes to coloring, so he called out things or people for which he was thankful and mama wrote them on the leaves.

Here's the list as created by my little man (in rough chronological order):

Thanksgiving lunch (he's a total foodie)
Elvis (our dog)
Jasper (our cat)
My baby
My Meme blanket
Woolie (a lambskin he's had since birth)
Family
Bumblebee helmut (Transformers)
Woody hat (cowboy hat)
Good friends
Guns (um, yes, he said guns!)
Leaf jumping

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Share some gratitude with the ones you love (and even the ones you don't).

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Light and shadow

For some reason I thought all children were scared of the dark on some level. So you an imagine it has caught me off guard that Rowan is so comfortable in the darkness. Every evening around 7:30pm or so, he asked to go outside. We howl at the moon (if she's out), play "movie theater", row our boogie board "boat" through the ocean of leaves with our baseball bat "oars", crazy walk, sprint around the garden, look for clues to a mystery, and any number of other ridiculous and fantastical activities. Rowan always leads the play session.

In honor of the lengthening nights and my little bear's energetic enthusiasm for outdoor twilight play, I read The Night is Like an Animal by Candace Whitman and Darkness Slipped In by Ella Burfoot to the preschoolers for storytime at the library. The stories are always followed by a craft and I wracked by brain to think of something three- to five-year-olds could make that would be more than just a one-off coloring project.

And then I remembered going to the theater when I was a young girl and seeing a shadow puppet rendition of traditional fairytales. They thrilled me like no other theater had. Something about the shadows and the movements and the necessity of our own imaginations to translate the dialog into expressions entranced me. The fairytales were originals--unedited, uncensored and violent. I loved them. Thinking back, I almost wonder if that's not where my love for fairytales really began. Not by reading them (gasp!), but by experiencing them in that strange shadow world.

So, we made shadow puppets. There were simple cuts outs for the children, and a more complicated version I made the night before of Three Billy Goats Gruff complete with a cereal box set on which the kids could try their own puppets.

They were entranced. Especially my darkling child. He can light up the whole house with his smile, but beware a storm brewing behind those blue eyes. I wouldn't have him any other way.

"Where there is much light, the shadow is deep."
~ Goethe

Click here for the Three Billy Goats Gruff template we used.