New Old Stuff

Everything old really is new again. As a child of the late 70's/early 80's, I spent an inordinate amout of time listening to records. There are times when I wonder why my mother keeps so much old stuff. But this time, when she presented the Little Bear and I with a box full of my old albums, I was tickled. Peter and the Wolf, Urban Chipmunk, Peter Pan, On Top of Spaghetti, The Magic Garden, Puff the Magic Dragon, Free to Be You and Me. The list goes on and on. The Little Bear has been having a great time singing, dancing and partying hard to all the kids classics I knew and loved.

Of course, the kids classics aren't the only hits he loves. In fact, his taste in music is just as ecelctic as his mom and dad's. Topping the list are:

We Will Rock You, Queen

Thriller, Michael Jackson

Low, Flo Rider

Bad Romance, Lady Gaga

You Spin Me Round, Dead or Alive

Hey Soul Sister, Train

Magic Dance, David Bowie

Thank God I'm a Country Boy, John Denver

Ghostbusters, Ray Parker

Firework, Katy Perry

anything by Harry Belafonte

He actually asked if he could be Harry Belafonte for Halloween this year. I'm not quite sure how we'll pull that one off without having him wear a sign, or carry a bunch of bananas, but we'll see what we can do. Of course, as soon as I located a number of adorable calypso-type button up shirts online (apparently called a gauyabera shirt), he told me he wanted to be Peter Pan. So I'm thinking we'll wait until at least September before I go any buy anything for Halloween.

The Mama Bear also landed a number of lovely new-old things (much to the Papa Bear's chagrin). An enchanting unicorn mug one of our librarians had since college (she's a few years removed from college now!)...

Two silver butter spats with incredible detail. This one has the welcoming pineapple...

And two new kitchen chairs. These are used primarily for standing upon either when I need to reach something on an upper cabinet or when the Little Bear helps me cook, bake or do dishes--something he's been asking to take part in recently. Our former chairs, though high-quality and antique were just not up to the job and I feared for our safety. These oldies are much sturdier...

Speaking of baking...we whipped up a few loaves of Irish soda bread earlier this month for St. Paddy's Day and I must admit I've found myself day-dreaming of them almost every day this past week. Time to make a few more loaves to celebrate winters end me thinks. If you'd like to join me in a warm slice slathered with sweet cream butter and accompanied by a mug of strong black tea, here is the recipe I always use.

Irish American Soda Bread (adapted from the Joy of Cooking)

Apparently, "real" Irish soda bread contains neither raisins nor egg, sugar nor butter. Sites that promote traditional soda bread suggest our version should be called a cake, but I don't think "cake" really captures this barely sweet quick bread either. Whatever you call it, this raisin studded loaf is best served warm or, better yet, toasted.

1-2/3 cups flour

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup raisins

1 large egg

2/3 cup buttermilk

4 tablespoons warm melted unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 375-degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Whisk together in a large bowl the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Stir in the raisins. In another bowl whisk together the egg, buttermilk and butter. Add the liquids to the dry and stir just until the ingredients are moistened. The batter will be thick but sticky. Form into a round mound and place on the baking sheet. Slash the top with a large "x" about 1/2 inch deep and bake until golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean (for about 25 to 30 minutes). Let cook on rack before slicing. Scarf!

p.s. I don't know what is up with the crazy formatting, but I will attempt to fix it as soon as Blogger lets me!

Honey house

I believe we've seen the very last substantial snow storm of the season. And, luckily, it was snowman snow. All winter we've been awaiting the snowman snow. We've had loads of ice-snow and plenty of cotton snow, but I feared spring would come before we were able to build that man of snow. The corn-cob pipe has been waiting since fall. Finally....

He only lasted about three days.

From snow to spring. And this spring, we're leaping head first into beekeeping. Papa Bear is the action sort, and Mama Bear is the planning sort. So, betwixt the two of us, (and with a healthy dose of bickering) we manage to get things done and done well. Lets hope this holds true for welcoming bees into our backyard. While I lectured on getting books, signing up for workshops and finding a mentor, the husband was online ordering two packages of bees and printing out plans for building a top bar hive.

We also took the Little Bear to a bee workshop for kiddos. He LOVED it.

To celebrate our impending adventure, and to quiet the daydreams of mass quanitites of golden honey, we indulged in a sweet treat straight from the expert: Winnie-the-Pooh. We considered the recipe for Marmalade on a Honeycomb, but settled on Apricot Honey Muffins instead. They're not overly sweet and are an incredible breakfast or afternoon tea.

Apricot Honey Muffins (adapted from The Winnie-the-Pooh Cookbook)

1 stick (1/2 cup) butter at room temperature
1/4 cup dark honey
2/3 cup canned apricots, mashed
1 large egg
1 tablespoon apricot juice
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2-1/2 teaspoon baking powder
coarse turbino sugar

Preheat oven to 375-degrees-F. Grease muffin pan or line with paper liners. Cream the butter with the honey and add the mashed apricot pulp. Beat in the egg and the apricot juice. In another bowl, combine the flour, salt and baking powder. Fold into the web mixture. Fill the muffin pan, top with a sprinkling of coarse turbino sugar and bake 30-35 minutes. Serve warm with sweet cream butter and drizzed with honey.

Zen Tacky

So I've been trying to keep up with an increase in hours at my part-time job and additional freelance projects coming down the pike. While also making time for valuable play with the little bear. (No, no, cleaning has not been on the feasible "to do" list for a while now.) All this means I've been neglecting my lovely blog. I promise a substantial post or two in the coming weeks. Until then, I leave you with a few Zen shots. (Wish I felt as calm and collected as these photos!)

Oh, and I've fallen madly in love: Taza stoneground Mexicano chocolate. It is sweet, bitter and just a little gritty. Kind of like the texture of icing when you don't cream the butter and sugar enough. I know it is a huge no-no, but I adore a good gritty icing now and again. There is something satisfying about feeling the sugar crystals exploding between your teeth. Does that make my tacky?

Winter Harvest

Question: What lives in winter, dies in summer and grows with it's roots up?

Summer and autumn are the king and queen of the harvest--it seems everything rounds and ripens, eventually birthing delights as far as the eye can see. Even in spring we await with bated breath and sharp, glinting knife the first bitter dandelion greens, sour rhubarb stalks, dinosaur-like fiddlehead fronds, or tender asparagus shoots. But Mother Winter is not nearly as baren as we often imagine. She graces us with her own unique beauty.

Harvesting ice . . .

Star projects . . .

Wicked winter gardens . . .

And though we're still tucked under a thick, white blanket, the sap will be rising soon. Probably the most scrumpteous of wild Winter's gifts. And it couldn't come soon enough. We poured the final drops of last year's smoky amber liquid onto a big bowl of snow and it disappeared quicker than Frosty in July.

Answer: Icicles

Fortifying

for*ti*fy ~ verb
1. to furnish with a means of resisting force or standing strain or wear
2. to make strong; impart strength or vigor to

A very good friend of mine (and her husband) introduced me to the lovely art of "fortifying." It usually involves lots of pillows, blankets, soft clothes (often pajamas), comfort foods, and gently doing something that quiets the mind, energizes the soul, and lulls the hum around you. Sometimes, it involves outdoor fun, too. But of a very particular sort. We've been doing a lot of fortifying around here lately--leaning into the hush that comes with the thick quilt of snow tucking us into our home.

Quite play...

Tea and cookies by candlelight...

Astronomy ice...

Sharp blades...

A cup of cacoa comfort...

How do you fortify?

Harbinger of spring? Already?

We celebrate gratitude and thankfulness during these winter holidays and there really is so much for which to be thankful. But have you ever felt that strange rustling scurry in your stomach? A fullness in your chest that speaks of something not yet fulfilled. Something waiting to be done. An insistent whisper in your ear that your whole self requires, actually needs something. The feeling is akin to the craving for cheeseburgers I felt when I was heavy with child, but on a larger, more diluted scale.

I've yet to figure out exactly what my body is telling me I need to do, but there are certain things that sing to the demands. Things that seem to harmonize with the whisper and turn it into a pleasant, aching hum. I recently interviewed an incredible woman--Kristin Kimball. Her and her husband run Essex Farm near Lake Champlain in New York state, and she recently released her first book, The Dirty Life. Hers is a story of transformation from city girl to farmer (a title she has certainly earned and would never wear lightly), and it has been trial by mud, horse, plow and blood. Kristin is a writer by trade and by nature so her prose is beautifully detailed, and she delves just as deeply and intimately into the hardships as well as the joys of becoming a farmer. Her words made my belly flutter with equal parts yearning and terror.

I don't know what it is about the work of growing food for at lest self-sufficiency, and at most, for others, that I envy.

But I can barely keep up with my 50 square feet of garden in my postage stamp backyard! I break out in stress sweats just anticipating paying our household bills (all of which we're usually able to make without an issue). And this fall past I managed to let an entire bushel basket of gorgeous peppers rot on my kitchen floor. Hardly farmer material.

Maybe it is the dead of winter coming on that has kindled the urgent need to dig, to struggle, to throw myself into a physically exhausting enterprise.

Maybe I've been doing just a little too much sitting what with the writing and editing work. Whatever it is, it is driving me. Now if only it will last through this year's gardening season, we'll be in good shape!

November triangle

One year we had a little slip of paper in our photo album between the shots of Halloween costumes and Christmas trees that read, "What happened to November?" Yes, we had managed to lose all the pictures we had taken for an entire month (and we had digital cameras, too). Looks like November is still our very own Bermuda triangle. But we're still here. And we've had a lovely month!

Building rocket ships...

Hanging around with good friends...

Being thankful (with our Tree of Gratitude)...

...and getting ready to battle the holiday crowds...

How about you?